#SAME AS THOSE PEOPLE WHO BUY GRAND PIANOS TO PUT THEM IN THEIR LIVING ROOM AS DECORATION WTF IS WRONG WITH THOSE PEOPLE

[lisztig]

how are there so many people buying easels just to use them as decoration??? like what are you trying to achieve? are you trying to fool people into thinking you're artsy????? PUT YOUR ACTUAL HOBBIES ON DISPLAY?

[irishmacguirefucker]

More of the gangs hobbies after settlin down? Maybe for Tilly, Sean and Javier?

I hope these are alright, it was a little hard to think of one for Javier because i feel like I don't know his character very well, but i feel like he’s one of those people that can just pick up any instrument and learn it with a few pointers and some practice. my sister is the same way lmao. Tilly was inspired by the idea of her having this beautiful plant covered bedroom which I thought suited her. Sean was the easiest because he already has a hobby, and honestly he doesn't seem like the hobby type of guy so at least I had a jumping off point. 

Ranch AU masterlist

Tilly:

When they got to the house, the study and most of the rooms all had bookcases filled with every kind of book from encyclopedias to romance novels to medical texts, anything you could think of. So when they all got there, those of the gang who could read and enjoy doing so were in absolute heaven. Any free time was immediately spent on one of the plush armchairs cracking open a dusty book. Tilly was certainly part of this, and in her reading, she gained a huge interest in plant husbandry.

She insists it’s a hobby because her favorite focus is on rare plants that often have no practical use, but she ends up with extensive knowledge of most herbs and plants. She is a big help in the herb garden, especially when they were figuring out which herbs they could grow where and what they could be used for. Her pride and joy however are the plants she grows in her room. All the upstairs bedrooms have large windows, and over time her bedroom has become full of plants. 

Her room is covered in live plants, rare plants that the others found and brought back, rare plants that she went hunting for, ivy and flowers, everything. She has hundreds of pressed and dried flowers in books and decorating her walls, and she is even learning to make teas, inks, paints and makeup with them. (homemade cosmetic recipes used to be placed in women’s magazines in the 1800s as cosmetics were a staple but not everyone could afford to buy them.)

Sean:

As we know, the man enjoys whittling. Before the ranch, he didn’t take it far beyond some sharp sticks, a few arrowheads and some crude figures, but at the ranch he found himself encouraged to take up this hobby to its fullest. It wasn’t his idea really, Lenny encouraged him. For all his fumbling, he really wasn’t bad with that knife of his and Lenny found a couple of books on whittling. It became both an encouraging way to teach Sean to read and a way to learn more about the trade.

Over time he was following the books himself and carving little animal figures and toy soldiers. He got really good at it, and for his birthday, Hosea and Lenny got him a real wood carving kit with curved knives and instructions on how to make a chess set. Hosea said he promised to teach them all how to play chess if Sean could carve them a whole set, and with that encouragement he got to work. Overall the man isn’t the ‘sit down for extended periods of time’ type guy, but it’s great as a more passive hobby when he feels like resting.

It’s especially great for instances where he has to chill out. For example, he actually managed to dislocate his ankle on the way down the stairs and was down for 6 weeks. When staying still got too hard and Grimshaw wouldn’t let him put weight on the foot, the whittling helped. It gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the feeling of being useless or the energy thrumming through all his muscles.

Javier:

At the ranch, there is a beautiful grand piano in one of the sitting rooms. Benefits of inheriting a rich family estate and all that. For a while, nobody really touched it because nobody knows how to use it. Javier had always been musically inclined, he can hold a tune and play the guitar effortlessly. When he was a teenager he picked it up mostly on his own, he just had a knack for music. The piano, however, can be a daunting instrument. It was a while before he touched it. In fact, it wasn’t until an early morning when half the house was outside and the other half was passed out drunk before he did. 

The only reason he wasn’t out working himself was that he was sick with some sort of stomach bug and technically wasn’t supposed to even be out of his bedroom. He didn’t really play anything that first day. He tested the keys, played them all just to know what sound they made. Before he had really gotten to know the instrument, Ms. Grimshaw burst into the room and he was busted for breaking his quarantine. 

It was a woman at the local bar that taught him how to play it a bit more. She was passing through town for a few days with a group of people and playing music each night for a little extra cash. He found himself flirting with her as she took breaks from playing for the bar, and they enjoyed the fleeting company. She showed him a few basics and he took to it like a fish to water. Like anything, it took time and practice but it was a rapid increase in skill, and eventually, he was playing for them all in the sitting room just like he does with his guitar.

[captain-josslett]

Broken Melody - Part Three

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven,

Summary: Grammy Award winning Emma Danvers is the first to say she has a pretty good life. But what happens when it implodes around her and it looks like things will never be the same again?

Words: 4.2k+

Warnings: Feels! I definitely got feels writing this!

Pairings: Emma Danvers x Lena Luthor (Eventual), Alex Danvers x Kelly OlsenIn 

This Part: It’s the Christmas concert!

As always B!D is named.

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated.

Taglist: @thewitchandtheassassin , @natasha-danvers , @life-is-hella-unfair , @finleyfray​, @supergirl-writingz​

Emma Danvers paces back and forth backstage. Her blonde, wavy hair was down with loads of volume. Her long, glittery, white gold dress swishing against the floor as she paced. Emma was slightly worried about the very deep plunging neckline but her stylist managed to find material that matched her skin tone to accomplish the allusion. They understood why Emma didn’t want to show lots of skin, especially as kids were watching. But they believe that if you’ve got it, flaunt it. And Emma definitely had it.

Emma takes a deep breath as she can hear the audience beginning to enter the huge theatre and her nerves start shooting all over the place. The rehearsals have gone the best they could with only five days to practice. But, Emma still worries she could have done more.

“There you are!” Emma turns around and smiles at Karen, the choir leader and director. A grey haired, black woman, who was ready to put Emma in her place if she became a diva. But to her surprise, Emma Danvers is anything but. “Everyone is in the rehearsal room. Do you want to warm up with us?”

“I’d love to!” Emma says eagerly and follows Karen, placing a hand on her shoulder. “How is everyone feeling?”

“Nervous, excited, scared, joyful, wanting to throw up every minute!” Karen laughs loudly and Emma smiles as she hears the choir’s nervous chatter inside the rehearsal room.

“Basically how I’m feeling all in one!” Emma jokes as they stand outside the door.

“Ready?” Karen asks.

“You bet.” Emma nods and Karen opens the door to thunderous applause. Emma goes in after her and joins the cheering and foot stamping. After a few minutes of getting everyone pumped Karen holds up her hands and instantly everyone quietens down. They do fifteen of vocal and physical warm ups and Emma can’t help but feel a bit sad at knowing after the concert she won’t be working with the choir again. Not until her new album at least. Having already planned some songs she could do with the choir.

“Fifteen minutes everyone!” The stage manager calls from the door.

Nerves instantly flood Emma again and she bites the inside of her lip. She watches Karen hold up her hands and the excited chatter dies down.

‘She holds such power and authority!’ Emma thinks admiringly.

“I’m not going to say much. Just that I am very proud of each and every one of you. Your commitment over the past few days has been phenomenal-”

Emma nods and claps her hands lightly around the group. Many make eye contact with her and smile brightly.

“- and all I ask is that you enjoy yourselves out there tonight. Sing your hearts out and let’s show the world what Kingdom Choir can do!”

Everyone applauds and Karen looks to Emma, tilting her head asking if she wants to say something. Emma smiles and nods. Karen lifts her hands again and everyone stands to attention.

“I just wanted to say a huge, big, thank you to all of you. When I was told that the previous act had pulled out, you guys instantly came to my mind and I’m so glad Karen said yes!” Emma reaches out and places a hand on Karen’s shoulder. Who covers Emma’s hand with her own.

“Now, I know some of y’all were a bit sceptical when y’all heard y’all’d be singing with me.” Emma puts on an over the top country twang, causing a few giggles and agreements. She switches back to her normal voice. “But thank you for giving me the chance to show you what I can do. This has truly been a wonderful experience and I’m going to really treasure it as I move into the next part of this journey.” Emma smiles around at the group before continuing.

“The profits from the seats and those paying to view this online have gone way past the expectation. Meaning even more money towards the equipment needed for the children’s hospital and really that is the main reason we are here. To help those in need, to show compassion and to hold out a hand. So, as Karen has said, just sing your hearts out.” The group applaud loudly and stomp their feet, ready to go out onto the stage and give the performance of their lives.

Emma turns and leads the group out. She plays with her hands as she mentally prepares herself to become Emma the singer.

“Here you are!” A sound technician hands Emma her microphone. The curtain was still down and would be raised as the show begins.

“Thanks.” Emma waits by the wings and lets Karen and the choir go past her. She holds out her right hand and everyone high fives her as they get onto the stage.

The announcement comes over the speakers that the show is about to begin. The crowd cheers and Emma takes a deep breath as she steps onto the stage. She looks at the amazing decorations, a huge, decorated Christmas tree stands at the other end of the stage. Fairy lights are everywhere giving the huge stage a cosy and warm feel. She looks at the orchestra and the choir, giving them encouraging smiles. The countdown begins and the crowd joins in. Finally it reaches zero and the curtain slowly rises up.

‘Here we go!’ Emma thinks as ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ starts playing.

-- -- --

Kara can’t help but bounce up and down in excitement as the Superfriends wait for the concert to start. The atmosphere in the theatre is electric and buzzing. They are sitting near the front in the middle of the huge theatre.

“Kara!” Alex whispers to her sister. “Can you please stop bouncing?!”

Kara immediately stops and looks apologetically at the redhead. “Sorry Alex! I’m just so excited!”

“So am I! But you don’t see me bouncing up and down like a jack in the box!” Alex laughs and shakes her head.

“Kara?” Eliza says next to Lena, who is sitting next to Kara. Lena had offered to swap with Eliza so she could sit next to Kara, but Eliza refused. Stating she was happy where she is. Kara whips her head round to her adopted mother. “Have you remembered to put the dampers on?” Eliza says quietly, not wanting to be overhead. Kara nods and shows the light on the frame of her glasses. When it became clear Emma was going to be in a loud band, Eliza and Alex had worked on equipment for Kara to drown out a lot of the noise that would overwhelm her. That’s if Kara remembered to turn them on. At many gigs Alex would have to engage the device when she saw Kara flinching from over exposure.

Eliza smiles at her daughter and goes back to reading the programme. “I still can’t believe Emma managed to sort this out in so little time!” Eliza says to no one in particular. She wasn’t meant to be in National City for another few days but due to Emma performing she decided to change her plans and come a few days early.

Lena looks down at her own programme, the choice of songs showing a wide variety of hymns and modern songs. “Knowing Emma though, she can do anything she puts her mind to.”

“That is true.” Eliza smiles at the CEO. “Thank you for giving Emma this opportunity. She was so excited when she called about it.”

“I’m the one that should be thanking her!” Lena smiles brightly. “I still can’t believe the amount of people outside trying to buy tickets off us!”

“Yea!” Sam agrees next to Ruby, who is sat next to Eliza. “I had one guy offer me $10,000 for Ruby and my ticket!”

“$10,000?” Kara yells with wide eyes.

“Yea! Mom almost took it too!” Ruby grins as Sam playfully nudges her daughter. But before Sam can comment she’s interrupted by a voice over the speakers.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! The concert is about to start-” Kara cheers loudly along with most of the theatre. Lena claps and beams with her.

The twenty second countdown begins and all the Superfriends join in. Lena can practically feel herself vibrating with anticipation. As zero is displayed the curtain slowly ascends and Emma appears. Lena’s breath is immediately stolen as she takes her in. Her eyes roaming over the shiny, white gold ball gown.

“She looks so beautiful!” Kara whispers in Lena’s ear, who nods in agreement.

The song starts and Emma lifts the microphone to her lips.

I don’t want a lot for Christmas.

Whoops and cheers sound from the crowd as Emma’s strong, velvet voice sings out.

Pride fills the Superfriends immediately and Alex can’t help but tear up. Kara reaches down and takes a hold of her hand. They smile at each other and focus on their sister.

As the tempo picks up Emma and the choir start dancing. Everyone in the audience gets onto their feet clapping and dancing along.

Lena is blown away by Emma’s performance. How she seems to include everyone in the audience, from those right at the front to those in the balcony seats looking down.

Cause baby all I want for Christmas is You!

The crowd cheers when Emma hits the high note and continues to improvise with the choir.

-- -- --

All I want for Christmas.

As Emma finishes the last notes of the song the audience roars in applause. Emma bows her head for a moment in acknowledgement. Raising her head she puts the microphone to her lips.

“Thank you!” She says gratefully and the audience still cheers. “Thank you!” Emma can’t help but feel overwhelmed by the love she is receiving. She looks all around the theatre and to those in the ‘god seats’ high above her. “Thank you so much! Please take your seats.”

She walks to the grand piano and takes a sip of her water hidden from view. “Well, that went well.” Emma says into the microphone, causing the audience to laugh. “I must say you are all in fine voice tonight!” A few cheers call out. Emma swears she hears her sisters among them. “But, before we do any more songs, please put your hands together for Kingdom Choir and the wonderful National City orchestra!”

Emma turns to them and applauds. Careful not to whack her microphone. Not wanting to annoy the sound technician.

“Seriously these guys are superheroes. As you know, we haven’t had long to prepare this and the level of commitment and energy these guys have… It’s just been amazing.” Taking another sip of her water she places it back in its hiding spot and walks back to the centre of the stage.

“So, ready for another song?”

“YES!” The audience cheer loudly.

Emma nods at the conductor and the first notes of ‘O Holy Night’ start playing.

-- -- --

Lena is sure she is going to have goosebumps permanently on her skin for the rest of her life. The level of passion and power in Emma’s voice is breathtaking. Throughout the song it feels like a warmth Lena can’t describe fills the theatre. As if heaven had entered and the angels were singing along. Lena’s vision blurs and she blinks in surprise. Tears fall down her cheeks and she wipes them away with her finger. She sees Kara look over at her and they smile softly at each other. Kara wraps an arm around her best friend and they continue watching Emma.

As the song closes the applause is again deafening. Lena stands to her feet immediately, still wiping tears from her face.

“Thank you.” Emma’s voice is barely heard over the roar of the crowd. After a few minutes she motions with her hands for the audience to sit. Finally they do and Emma’s eyes lock with Lena’s for a moment and Lena gives her a tearful smile. Emma returns it, also focusing on her Mom, sisters and friends before looking around the theatre. “How about another fast one?”

-- -- --

The next few songs has everyone dancing on their feet and Emma dances along with them. Not wanting tonight to end.

“Wooo! Now that… That was fun!” Emma breathes out, trying to catch her breath. She laughs as the choir calls out in agreement. “Can you believe we are over halfway in our evening together?!”

“Noooo!!!” Emma laughs as she hears Kara yell loudly.

“But, if I may-” Emma takes another quick sip before putting the water down. “We all know why we are here tonight.” She walks slowly back to the centre of the stage. You could hear a pin drop. The theatre is so quiet as they watch her. “To support the utterly commendable work done at The Luthor Children’s Hospital. Now even though most of us haven’t used the service, and God forbid if you even need to. But, we all know the importance of our health and for our hospitals to have the best equipment and staff to continue serving our city.”

“I’ve gone to the hospital many times to visit the kids. Especially those who used their Make A Wish to meet me.” Emma smiles sadly, always remembering the little faces of joy as she’d enter the room. “And in the hospital, they have a wall, a special, in memoriam wall.” Taking a deep breath Emma swallows the emotion threatening to spill out. The amount of pictures she saw as she took the time to look over them. Such young children, taken far too soon.

“I’m reminded of the cold hard truth, that we don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring. That we lose those we love along the way.” Emma takes another deep breath and looks up at the ceiling above her. Remembering her Dad. The one she remembers before he was taken and changed. The one she grieves. “And yes, Christmas is a joyous time, to celebrate and remember. But, if I may, I’d like to pay tribute to those no longer with us.”

Softly the piano starts playing and Emma pulls herself together to sing the song. On the screen behind her photos of the departed, sent in by the public, is shown.

The fire is burning, the room's all aglow  Outside the December wind blows Away in the distance The carollers sing in the snow.

The audience stays quiet as Emma gently sings.

She can’t help but remember the last Christmas with her Dad. How they played in the snow with her sisters and sat around a roaring fire once they changed out of their wet clothes. The feeling of sitting on her Dad’s lap and have him wrap his big arms around her.

Everybody's laughing The world is celebrating And everyone's so happy Except for me tonight.

Emma uses more of her support to increase the volume in her voice for the chorus. She tries to keep her eyes off the monitors showing the pictures of peoples loved ones.

Because I miss you most at Christmas time And I can't get you, get you off my mind Every other season comes along and I'm all right But then I miss you, most at Christmas time.

She makes it through the next few verses and chorus but feels she’s starting to break near the bridge. Knowing the next set of photos are of Jeremiah and her family. She had asked her Mom and sisters if it would be okay and they readily agreed. But, now Emma isn’t sure if it was the best idea.

In the springtime those memories start to fade with the April rain

A picture of a child Emma on top of Jeremiah’s shoulders is shown when they went on a long hike. A young Alex and Kara are standing either side of Jeremiah, they are all smiling brightly at the camera.

Through the summer days till autumn's leaves are gone

Another photo comes on showing Emma and Jeremiah asleep on the sofa. Emma is resting against her Dad’s chest and he has his arms around her.

I get by without you till the snow begins to fall.

The last picture of Emma and Jeremiah flash up, showing the family's last Christmas together. One where they are all sat around the table having their Christmas meal.

Emma closes her eyes for a moment, remembering that last Christmas so clearly. How she always struggled with Christmases after that. They were never the same.

When she opens her eyes to sing the last chorus tears stream down her face. Her voice cracks but she pushes through.

And then I miss you most at Christmas time And I can't get you, no, no, no, get you off my mind Every other season comes along and I'm all right

Emotion overtake Emma and a sob escapes her lips. She lowers the microphone slightly and drops her head. The orchestra pauses. A few people in the crowd cheer in support of Emma. Who takes a shuddering breath and lifts her head and microphone. Eyes full of tears.

But then I miss you, most at Christmas time.

When the piano finishes the last chords, Karen and a few other choir members race up to Emma and hold her in a group hug. The audience raises the roof in their cheers and there isn’t a dry eye to be seen.

Alex, Kara, Lena and Eliza also get into a group hug. Lena tries not to feel awkward in how she’s imposing on this family moment. But she had no choice when both blonde’s beside her pulled her into it. She keeps her eyes on Emma who is trying to compose herself. She watches as Karen places Emma’s face in her hands and gently wipes the tears away. Obviously saying something encouraging to the blonde who nods and smiles sadly.

Soon Karen and the choir members get back into position and Emma takes a deep breath. “Who's ready for some more dancing?”

The audience cheers and gets to their feet as ‘Underneath The Tree’ begins.

-- -- --

When the final note of the upbeat version of ‘Joy To The World’ finishes Emma curtsies low at the applauding crowd. She can’t quite believe the concert is over as it all feels like a blur now. Confetti shoots into the air and the audience whoop. Emma rises and holds her hand out to the orchestra who keeps playing the upbeat melody. The audience cheers and the conductor bows. Emma next holds her hand out to the light and sound technicians at the back. Finally she holds her hand out to the choir behind her and the rush towards her. Gathering round her and dancing to the beat. They all wave when the curtain starts to descend, cheering and clapping with all their might.

When the curtain stops moving, separating the audience from the stage, Emma takes a deep breath.

“Well done Emma.” Karen pulls her into a tight hug. “That went better then we rehearsed!”

“Always the way!” Emma laughs and Karen nods in agreement. They pull apart but Karen keeps her face near Emma’s ear to talk to her. The choir still cheering and clapping with the orchestra.

“What are your plans? We are thinking of going to a local bar.”

“Ah I have plans with my sisters and friends.”

“No worries, it was a last minute thing anyway.” Karen smiles at her before turning to her group and dances with them.

Emma watches them for a moment before heading to her dressing room. Her whole body is buzzing with adrenaline, which she knows won’t last forever. And when she crashes she wants to be sat on a sofa with a pizza on her lap.

But it takes her a while to get to said dressing room as many people backstage congratulate her. She thanks them and breathes a sigh of relief when she can close the door behind her.

She grabs her phone and smiles at the many messages from the Superfriends. Mainly from Kara who sends a load of different emojis to express how she’s feeling. She sees the message from her Mom saying she will see her tomorrow as she’s heading back to the hotel to rest. Emma sends her a quick response of understanding before opening the Superfriend’s group chat.

Emma: Thanks everyone! I’ll see you at Kara’s soon! Please order the pizza as I’m starving!

Alex: Do you want us to wait for you?

Emma: No you go on ahead. I won’t be long.

Emma quickly changes into her skinny jeans, tank top and red leather jacket, not bothering to take her makeup off yet. She packs her bags and zips the beautiful dress in its cover. Emma places it on the clothes rail outside her dressing room. She passes the rehearsal room and pokes her head in saying bye to Karen and the choir.

Exiting through the stage door into the garage Emma is surprised to see someone stood by the bug. She quickly approaches and smiles when she sees who it is. “Lena?”

The raven haired beauty looks up from her phone and the smile she gives Emma makes the blonde go weak at the knees.

“Hi.” Lena says softly before pulling Emma into a hug. “You… Em… I don’t have any words for how amazing you were tonight.”

“Thanks Lee.” Emma says gently. She pulls back and places a kiss on Lena’s forehead. “Ready to go?” Emma asks as she unlocks the bug. Lena nods and makes her way over to the passenger side.

The drive to Kara’s was quick as most of the traffic from the theatre had already gone. A few fans were still hanging out on the street and cheered as Emma drove past. She waved at them and smiled while still paying attention to the road.

As they enter Kara’s building Emma can feel the adrenaline starting to wear off. “Why does Kara not have an elevator again?” Emma complains to herself as her movements noticeably slows.

Lena pokes her head around the corner having gone on ahead and heard Emma grumble. “Are you okay?”

“Yea, just starting to feel it.” Emma grabs onto either side of the railings and hurls her body up the stairs. Loud footsteps coming from above make her look up. Suddenly Kara and Alex are standing at the top of the flight of stairs. Lena smiles at them and continues past them, walking up to Kara’s floor.

“Need a hand?” Alex smiles down at her sister.

“No. I can-” Emma takes a step but falters. “Please.” Emma sighs out.

Both sisters race down to her and take an arm each.

“If you ever move can you please get a place with an elevator?” Emma breathes out as they walk together up the stairs.

“No promises little one!” Kara sings out and laughs as Emma huffs.

“Anyway, you are young, fit and healthy!” Alex teases, poking Emma in the side, causing the blonde to squeal and slap Alex’s hand away.

“Normally yes, but when you perform for almost two hours sometimes your body decides to do other things.” Emma grumbles.

Eventually they reach the top of the stairs, Alex lets go and heads to the apartment door.

Emma rests her head on Kara’s shoulder as they walk the short distance towards their eldest sister. Alex smiles at them and pushes the door open.

Applause greets Emma as she steps through and she feels her cheeks heating up in a blush. She smiles shyly and accepts the hugs from the Superfriends.

Finally Emma sits down on the sofa next to Lena and Sam. Pizza is laid out on the coffee table and Emma is given the honours of choosing first.

When everyone has chosen and has settled, Kara clears her throat. “As with tradition after one of Emma’s gigs.” Kara starts speaking and Emma stops chewing, frowning at what her sister is about to do. “Alex and I always talk about our favourite parts.” She smiles brightly at her sisters. “So, I will go first. My favourite bit was during ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’ and you added in the ‘Gloria’ part and the organ came in. Literally the hairs on my arms, well, all over my body, stood on end!” All the Superfriends nod. “Oh and when you had members of the choir throw chocolate and candy into the audience during ‘Joy To The World’.”

“Of course you would choose that Kara.” Alex says sat on the floor, rolling her eyes.

“Well, what's yours?” Kara laughs.

Sighing heavily Alex looks down at her pizza.

“Alex?” Emma tilts her head. Knowing what Alex must be thinking.

“My favourite bit was… when you sang for Dad.” Alex swallows and bites her lip. “It hurt but... it was such a wonderful tribute.” Tears fill Alex’s eyes and she looks away embarrassed.

Emma places her plate on the table and quickly makes her way over to her eldest sister. She kneels on the floor and engulfs Alex in a hug. The redhead sighs happily and buries her head into Emma’s neck.

When they pull apart Emma stays sitting beside Alex. She reaches out for her plate and rests her head on Alex’s shoulder as she continues to eat.

“That was one of my favourite moments too.” Sam speaks out. “The way you sang it was next level. I can’t explain it. Like you poured your very soul into it.”

“Thanks Sam.” Emma smiles at the brunette and continues to listen to the Superfriends feedback. Soon they move onto sharing their past Christmas memories. But Emma's eyes start to get more and more heavy and she can’t help but close them as she still leans against her older sister.

Feeling happy and content with how well the concert went she drifts off into a peaceful nap.

(Part Four)

[the-moon-prince]

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter II

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

I offer you the second chapter of my story! This time I made sure to be more careful with the edition!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story. (Third coming soon!) (Chapter I)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 655

TW: None!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Kurapika''- then they looked up to him-"I know I'm putting my life on the line. Yet, what I'm about to do is an act of desperation wholly motivated by my concluding. Are you... are you somehow related to the scarlet eyes?" their eyes still avoiding his, with a serious and plain expression on their face. It was sure they weren't joking. Kurapika immediately tensed up and put himself on guard. "I'm sheepish to inquire like this in your private life. But I have my reasons to suppose you are, if you say yes to me, I will believe you. If not, please let me know and we can pretend this dialogue never happened." Kurapika was naturally full of inquiries about this whole story. But continuing with this conversation could lead him to information. Even solve his doubts about (Y/n), that character who puzzled him so greatly. "I am," he answered after some seconds of reflection. (Y/n) nodded in agreement to him and kept stuttering "I have a... I have an offer for a pair of scarlet eyes."- the tone of their voice was worried, and still (Y/n) remained serious. At that moment, they were convinced of being on the right path.-"Please, don't misunderstand me. I am not a flesh collector. I am convinced that these kinds of people are the most repugnant vermin. And I despise them"- These last two sentences were said with particular disgust on (Y/n)'s voice-"I'm certain you're questioning yourself <<Why are they communicating this to me? How do they have this sort of knowledge?>> I-I beg you... let me explain myself. Even if I'm not a flesh collector, I'm after precise body parts and I seek to reclaim them. As a Doctor, It's quite easy to persuade dealers about my supposed appreciation for that kind of item. Furthermore, I'm telling you this because I want to be... believe the scarlet eyes are going to be in a better place with... with you than on a display rack. Seeing body parts being treated like mere dirty material articles... just objects someone can just appropriate... just possess gives rise to my sadness and fury.- as they spoke, (Y/n)'s voice trembled and stuttered and their hands tightened into fists. Even if their face stayed stoic, their voice and hands reflected all the anguish felt. Letting out a heavy suspire- If you're angry and distrust me, I concede. These are delicate subjects and I apologize for my sudden harshness, but I was obligated to clear my uncertainties. It was a part that, for my integrity and morals, I could not ignore. I am deeply grateful to you for letting me telling you this." (Y/n) finally finished and looked down their feet again. Waiting for some kind of response, and feeling ready to endure any kind of repercussion their early action could lead them to. Kurapika knew the person in front of him had not just nothing to win doing this, but they could also get murdered. Not solely by him. Plus, he recognized the sense of anger towards the flesh collectors. Only getting his suspicions bigger. "Your explanation seems coherent. I will believe you. Further, the information highly interests me. I'll collaborate with you."  The voice tone in Kurapika was not an angry one, despite what (Y/n) had anticipated. Rather a gentle feel flooded Kurapika's soul, feeling less alone in the cause he devoted his life. 

In return (Y/n) offered Kurapika their usual tender smile and looked up at him again. With the difference that in their eyes they had a look of closeness and muttered a "Thank you" to follow the conversation- "I have the details of the transaction, but I would prefer to deliver them to you in a more secure area. I invite you for tea if you accept." 

~

A proposition to which Kurapika agreed. To anew prove their reliability, (Y/n) offered to drive Kurapika to their address, a delicate move as that sort of information was notably frail and placed (Y/n) in a state of vulnerability. (Y/n)'s residence was just a small home with limited decoration. On their salon, beside the basic furniture thus consisted of a canapé, two individual loveseats, a carpet and a coffee counter in the center; the only remarkable things in all the place were a fairly small grand piano -second hand probably- and an exhibit shelf with tiny animal figurines in different situations: like two wolves and a cat drinking tea, or a crowd of distinct critters dancing. "A quite childish set to exhibit" was the thought Kurapika had. (Y/n) brew some tea and placed some biscuits on the coffee table. "To gain the scarlet eyes, the merchant convoked me this Thursday at 9:15 p.m. on a private store in the edge of the town. I have to present personally with my hunter license to confirm my identity, also the granted price for the pair of scarlet eyes would be 2 million Jennys. I'm more than willing to pay the fee." (Y/n) affirmed while taking a sip of tea. "As I suppose, you're familiar with the security protocol to access black market stores. What kind of strategy have you in mind if something turns out wrong? Those buying are always dangerous."-Kurapika questioned inclining in front, resting his elbows on his knees. Logically, (Y/n) had a plan conceived for these circumstances. -"In these situations, I take an offensive position. Regarding my nen, I'm a specialist. I'm able to conjure two ribbons, each one with different properties. The first one "Misericordiae'' has enhancement effects and is meant to protect. It concentrates great quantities of aura and grants the band high strength and healing skills. The other ribbon "Divina Poena '' has transmutation traits, it obtains the ability and sharpness of a metallic blade and is aimed to punish. Although, to obtain my I made vows and have several limitations. I can't kill with "Misericordiae", and exclusively use "Divina Poena" against people who have committed atrocities. Plus on my actual form, I can't use both simultaneously. My plan consists of physically containing the opponent with "Misericordiae '' and knock them down, to subsequently use it to shield us and escape. In extreme cases, it could kill them, although I fancy avoiding it."- (Y/n) rigorously explained. It was obvious they previously initiated contact with flesh sellers, and their cleverness was confirmed once more by Kurapika. 

"The plan is plausible and efficient. With that already determined, I will accompany you in the transaction and present myself as your bodyguard."- with that proclamation the project was complete and ready to be performed. (Y/n) provided Kurapika with a folder full of documents informing about the seller and the location. The seller ended up being a notable collector and dealer of singular and luxurious objects in the underworld. They both accorded to meet outside a coffee shop Thursday at 8:30 p.m., and (Y/n) will transport them to the establishment.

~

The said day finally arrived. the plan was thus executed. (Y/n) was very punctual when picking up Kurapika, dressed in their usual good taste, always with some variety of embroidery herbaceous detail. It was not difficult to believe that he was a wealthy fan of human members. Kurapika sat next to (Y/n) in the passenger seat. For most of the trip, no word was said. They were both troubled. Just one exception; before getting out of the car, (Y/n) smiled at Kurapika and said as an encouragement "We are going to procure the scarlet eyes!". Even if their expression seemed the same, the contrast was subtle, and Kurapika recognizes the support in their action. Once through security, they both reached a vast room full of cristal showcases. These exhibiting an enormous amount of costly merchandise. The salesman was waiting for them, and they politely presented each other and engaged in a little courtesy prattle.

 Once (Y / n) confirmed their identity with their hunter license, the man led them to a private room, which he locked, to present the product. The man showed them the scarlet eyes, which were real, proving that it was not a scam. Kurapika and (Y/n) did their best to maintain the facade they came with. To conclude with that all (Y/n) pulled the money cash out of their bag and presented it to the seller. 

"Oh, no no no, child, 2 million Jennys was the first offer I gave you. But now you seem so firm to buy the scarlet eyes I raise the price to 4 million Jennys. They are very precious and rare, you know?"-the man took on a condescending tone, clearly taking advantage of the situation to play dirty. Kurapika couldn't help but feel his blood boil like lava. He was so tired of treating scumbags who treated the Kurta clan like lower living beings. He wasn't alone in this anger. "Misericordiae!" was the thing both men heard before (Y/n) conjured their nen. A white ribbon enveloped the hunter's left hand like jewelry. The ribbon gripped the seller's limbs, torso, and head, lifting him using the roof rafters as pulleys. The ribbons were tightening their grip as the man's face turned into a scared expression, and (Y/n) stopped smiling to return to a solemn expression. At the same time, Kurapika took an attacking position, ready to battle if required. "Do not try to fool us. We tried to do everything pacifically, and yet your actions are unfair. I have more than sufficient reasons to end someone who obtains a profit with human misery. So, you're going to give us the eyes, and we will calmly leave, without anyone getting injured." (Y/n) calmly replied, despite their irritation. 

"Fine, I'll accept the two million! Let me down now." the disgusting man tried to persuade, but (Y/n) wasn't satisfied with the answer "No. You broke the arrangement. You can't go backward now." (Y/n) firmly declared to directly give the pair of scarlet eyes to Kurapika and head to the door, finally realizing the man before getting out of the room. They proceeded to quickly exit the establishment. Already out, (Y/n) dissipated their nen, cleaned the tiny flow of blood that came out of their mouth, and both got inside the car.

~

After the obnoxious experience and once in the car (Y/n) angrily grunted, not leaving their annoyed plain appearance and driven to return into Yorknew. The car stayed silent for a moment, giving each of the passengers' space and calm to dissipate their tension. In the end, despite the trick the man wanted to impose on them, Kurapika retrieved the eyes. Both feeling a bit better (Y/n) mumbled, still bitter "How awful. I despise these kinds of personages, just hideous rubbish. They're as stupid as a broomstick!"- Kurapika couldn't help but let out a tiny chuckle in front of the original expression. (Y/n) turned to see Kurapika, making a small squeak of surprise- "Why are you laughing?" 

The uncommissioned of the person next to him only caused Kurapika more amusement. "Your expression is quite unique!" the blonde man replied. (Y/n) in what appears to be a sudden blow of consciousness also laughed. To playfully add with their smile back "I might have mistranslated my expression. "Why is a broomstick stupid tho? What's the reasoning?" -Kurapika joked again.

"Well, consider it. A broomstick is useless without the brush. It doesn't do anything relevant. Plus the brush doesn't need a stick; the small hand brooms are the evidence. No one needs the broomstick!"

"I suppose you're right."-Kurapika smiled at the silly (Y/n) gave him.

"May I propose you some tea?" (Y/n) continued, to which Kurapika gladly agreed. He was in a nice mood after all. A nice mood in a long time.

~

That was the second time, of many, Kurapika went to (Y/n)'s home. The tea was served along with some sweets on the coffee table in the sitting room. Each one sat in front of the other. At some point, Kurapika interrogated "How did you know I held some connection to the scarlet eyes?".

(Y/n) Slowly shrugged and looked away. "I saw you during Neon's discourse about her collection."- they answered with their tiny smile - "I recognize that expression and feeling of frustration and sorrow. The sentiment is familiar to... to me as well...".

At that moment, Kurapika decided to execute a move that would dissipate his suspicions about (Y/n). "Thank you for your service. You proved yourself as someone reliably, (Y/n). I consider you deserving of an account and promise the scarlet eyes are in good hands."-(Y/n) swiftly looked up to him-  "I'm a survivor of the massacre of the Kurta. The eyes belong to the members of my clan. My people's eyes turn red whenever we feel intense emotions. My confreres were slaughtered and had their eyes stolen."-anger and pain were present in each of his words-"  I seek to retrieve the scarlet eyes from the sickening scum who rob them and carry out my revenge on the ones who brutally destroyed my clan. They were innocent... they didn't deserve to be annihilated."-Kurapika's voice quivered as his companion stayed quiet, hearing carefully.-"The Spiders killed... unjustly my people. I pretend to make them pay. Additionally, I discerned, despite your vigilance, you are highly protective of your eyes." Kurapika finally voiced. (Y/n) slowly got up and sat next to him. "Kurapika... Although, indeed, my eyes are also capable to change; I am not a Kurta. I'm profoundly remorseful if I gave you that hypothesis."-their tone was sad -"Yet I'm also really alike; my people got killed as well for a part of their body. I am an Unilium, or vulgarly known as beast people... please do, do not misunderstand me, I can change my appearance... Even if I can change it, my current form is the real, it's part of me. They killed us for our fur. I survived only because I lived elsewhere than the rest. And I.. I'm also the last one..."

It would be a lie if I'd said Kurapika's hopes of having another Kurta alive didn't crush. He felt foolish, similar to if he wanted to cry. "Kurapika, let me join you." was a response he didn't expect.

"I believe in your cause. What the spiders did will not stay unpunished." -(Y/n) gently spoke to him, as he looked at them. For the first time, they looked Kurapika directly in the eyes. Their (eye color) catlike eyes were wet. And his words were full of support and determination to help. - "How many are there, similar to us? How many have suffered because of them? And how many more will there not be? We begged for help, but no one protected us. Let's protect those who are similar to us. We don't deserve to suffer, none of us did. We will not be giving them the pleasure of giving up. We will not be giving them the pleasure of leaving unpunished.

May evil pay for its crimes." Kurapika felt held for the first time in a very long time. Probably since the Yorknew incident. How much suffering was released at that instant? So much so that he gave up and hugged the person next to him who was caring for him. (Y/n) flinched at the contact. Just before he could cut the embrace, Kurapika felt a pair of trembling and timid arms enveloping him. It reminded him of the hugs that Pairo used to give him.

"I'll be frank, I don't believe in fate. But, random happenings in life culminated in the survival of both of us. We are the last ones. Let's make it worthwhile. The Spiders will pay."

[ardentprose]

Chapter 4 - Eggnog

I can’t decide if this counts as a legitimate chapter or a filler, but it exists so here it is. 

He clicks the screen of his phone off and lets his hand fall to his side. A sigh escapes him as Yoongi musters the courage to rejoin the party downstairs. He can hear laughter and the occasional shout through the walls. 

Glancing around your childhood bedroom once more, Yoongi shakes his head at the amount of memorabilia you have of k-pop stars. The last person he expected to be a fan of that type of music was you, but at the same time, he wasn’t put off by it. If anything, he was glad such a kind and respectful girl took interest in his pop culture. Not that he did much himself but the point remained-

Alright, alright. Quit stalling and take your ass downstairs. They’re just people. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Rather than walking towards the door as he berates himself however, Yoongi finds himself shuffling towards one of your windows, eyes taking in the serenity of falling snow and white whirlwinds drifting over the hills of what was already built up. 

“I like her. I like Y/N.” The words echo around his head sending pulses to his heart. Your smile, your scent, your gentle touch and affection. It all silently compounded upon itself, slowly chipping away at his heart until all at once the evidence was before him and overwhelming in your favor. 

These newly admitted feelings had him giddy and terrified. 

And slightly sick. 

Where did she say the bathroom was? 

The only one he knew was downstairs and he didn't want to go snooping around your private quarters of your home. 

Which meant downstairs was his destiny. 

With one last glance, Yoongi shuts the door of your bedroom and heads for the staircase. 

Each step down, he repeats to himself. They’re just people. 

They’re just people. 

They’re.

Just.

People. 

I like Y/N. 

Unheeded warmth flashes through him again. His cheeks are aflame as he rounds the corner and comes to the edge of the living room where most have gathered. There you sit surrounded by a halo of beaming faces watching you sing. Your eyes are closed as you sway in your seat, your fingers dancing lightly over piano keys. Yoongi waits at the edge, feeling like a renaissance picture had come to life and all its beauty lie in the brush strokes of your hair grazing your cheek. 

I like you. He thinks to himself a smile crossing his features. It wasn’t so much that you were different from any of the other girls. Rather he gave you a chance and you had proved him wrong. You were unrelentingly kind when he was rude. You took his cold stares and curt words patiently, knowing there was more to him than the walls he had built up. 

It took your smile and your touch to make Yoongi reflect on himself for the first time in America. He had come with his guard up and despite having a few ignorant people treat him poorly, he wanted to belong, he wanted to fit in. He wanted a place here to call his and now, with those pretty eyes of yours winking at him and familiar hands waving him over, he knew that place was right beside you. 

“Yoongi! Come on, we’re going to play Monopoly!” You say as the family disperses from the piano. Yoongi shuffles to the piano bench and offers his hand for you to take as you stand. 

Your palm slips over his and his breath hitches in his throat. Everything felt new and yet the same. Now that he had this truth brewing in his chest, now that he had admitted to his harbored crush, every interaction took on a new meaning. His heart had raced before whenever you grabbed his hand, but instead of excitement there were nerves. Was he too forward? Was he too stand-offish all this time? Having you like him back wasn’t even on his mind yet, but wanting to impress you - or at the very least be a good friend - was all Yoongi could focus on. 

“How do you feel?” You whisper, your breath tickling the curve of his ear. 

He offers you a tight-lipped smile. “I’m okay.” He whispers before clearing his throat. 

“Wh-What’s next?” He asks, hoping your proximity will grow so he can think straight. 

“Monopoly! D’you know how to play?” You ask, tugging him along to the dining room where the game was being set up. Half your family had opted out in order to catch up on sofas or watch the football game on television. 

“Kinda…” Yoongi did know how to play. But it was an entirely different ballgame when you added English to it. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.” You hum. You guide him to an empty seat beside you and hand him a piece. Yoongi takes the small thimble in hand before nodding and placing it at the start.

Turns out English wasn’t an issue at all. Half an hour later, two of your cousins are arguing with you about nearly a thousand dollars missing between properties being dealt poorly. Boldly defending your honesty you fire back accusations on where the money had truly gone. 

Meanwhile Yoongi sits with a Cheshire’s grin, knowing the missing grand was in the two little red houses he had placed on his property. Between feigning ignorance and their assumptions Yoongi had no idea what was going on, he had managed to embezzle the money right under everyone’s noses. But no one would suspect the innocent exchange student. 

“I swear if you’re lying to me I won’t buy you Christmas presents this year!” You threaten your cousins who are just as perturbed. 

“Yeah, well we won’t get you anything either you thief!” 

“Alright, game’s over. Clear the table. It’s dinner time!” Your mother walks in with a heavy tray of turkey in her hands. Yoongi moves first to clear the game board, swiping the tiny houses into his palms and dumping them into the box. 

“Someone’s excited to eat.” Your older cousin remarks. 

Or to get away with the perfect crime. Yoongi places all the money back in its rightful place and your other cousin takes the game to be put away. 

In its place a beautiful golden turkey is laid before you. Glaze drips over the expanse of the bird and settles at the bottom of the glass plate. The sweet and earthy aroma is tantalizing and draws even the furthest family members into the dining room. 

More dishes are carried in and each finds its place on the red tablecloth as guests shuffle past one another to find a seat. You remain by Yoongi’s side, having slipped your hand into his under the table. 

Yoongi feels you squeeze his hand and he squeezes back, the action erupting heartbeats a mile a minute. He hopes the steam from the marshmallow yams is enough to account for the flush of his face. 

“And the salad! Yoongi did all the work, chopping up the vegetables for us.” Your mother announces sending eyes his way. Yoongi flushes deeper, instinctively squeezing your hand on his thigh at the new attention. 

“So he can cook too! Nice.” One of your male cousins winks as he slides into his seat. 

“Yeah he’s actually useful.” You don’t hesitate to quip back at him. Another short round of insults ensues until your father claps his hands settling everyone down to eat. 

Dinner goes by with multiple conversations echoing around Yoongi. Having already been through the routine questions, most of your family left him alone, which he was thankful for. 

Scooping mashed potatoes into his mouth a small satisfied hum leaves his throat. Licking his lips, he cuts off a piece of turkey and has to suppress a groan at the way it melts in his mouth. He would have to thank Hoseok for convincing him to go. American food was rich and sweet, not lacking in any flavor department. Although he missed the familiar seafood aroma of homemade dinners, Yoongi felt like a king at a feast with the amount of food laid before him. 

The salad was pretty damn good too.

After dinner the party separates, some peer through the curtains at the brewing storm and call it an early night. Cousins are rounded up and hugs are exchanged. Yoongi stays with the party that’s decided to stay for another round of drinks, choosing to brave the storm at a later hour. He cleans the table of plates and discarded silverware, handing them off to your mother who smiles generously at him. 

“Here you are, hon.” Taking the last handful of spoons from Yoongi, your mother hands him a glass of thick white substance with the consistency of a milkshake. 

“Thanks.” He nods respectfully, too deep into his food coma to gather the English words to ask what it is. Thankfully your mother reads his expression. 

“It’s eggnog.” 

“Egg?” Yoongi quirks a brow, swirling the cup in his hand. 

“Spiked too, so don’t get too carried away with it. I would stick to two glasses under my roof, alright? Go on ahead in the living room. Y/N should be finishing up her goodbyes by now.” 

Yoongi nods and follows her instructions. He rounds the hall having become familiar with the layout to your house over the course of the night. 

You are just hugging the last cousin and waving them off as Yoongi approaches. 

You close the door after another round of promises to talk soon with a resound click. Slumping against the door, you peek over your shoulder at Yoongi and offer him a small smile. 

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” You laugh lightly but the exhaustion is evident in your voice. Yoongi stretches out his arm and offers the glass in his hand. 

“Eggnog?” 

“Oh, yes please.” You take a sip and hum at the creamy taste reminiscent of holidays past. 

“Hey, you need to try some of this.” You grab Yoongi’s arm and escort him to the kitchen. There, you quickly pour him a glass and watch excitedly for his reaction. 

The taste is unique - creamy - and surprisingly doesn’t taste of egg at all. The rum sends a warmth through Yoongi’s body that is welcome and pleasant. He takes another sip, yet another, and then finds himself downing the glass. 

You’re on your second - which you set aside to get him another. 

“Did you have fun tonight? I hope it was not... overwhelming.” It’s a relief to hear you switch to his native tongue after a long day of English. You top off his glass and he takes it back with grateful hands. 

“No, it was fun. Your cousins are entertaining to watch.” He says over the rim of his glass.

“Oh my word, they get so...so competitive over monopoly.”

“It’s a shame you never found the missing money.” 

Another sip.

“Wait…”you never found”...?” 

Amused, Yoongi watches realization shift over your face. 

“Holy shit, you douche! You’re such a jerk. Leaving me alone to defend my honor when you had it the entire time! I should have known.” You laugh and smack his arm. The touch is innocent but nevertheless, Yoongi winces as if it had actually hurt him. 

“Here, let’s take this up to my room.” You snatch the bottle of rum and tilt your head toward the stairway.

“Goodnight dad...mom!” You call as Yoongi follows you up the stairs. 

“Where’s Yoongi sleeping?” Your mother comes to the bottom of the steps, but not before you tuck the bottle behind your back. 

“I’ll set up the couch for him!” You smile. Yoongi sneaks a glance at your child-like smile in wonder. Had you ever lied to his face so smoothly like that? He quickly pushes the thought from his mind, not in the mood to spoil his night. 

“Alright. Goodnight.” Your mom nods, returning to whatever task she had been in the middle of.

You close the door behind Yoongi as you enter the bedroom, making sure it locks with a click. Then, you settle down on the carpet, gesturing for Yoongi to sit across from you. Idle conversation passes between the two of you, recalling the night’s highlights which lead to recalling funnier moments from college and complaining about the load of work due to be expected after the break. 

An hour passes and half the bottle is gone, most of it consumed by you and although both your faces are flushed, your cheeks are a deeper red through your complexion. 

“You know….” You smirk which leads to a short fit of giggles. Leaning forward you reach over to tap Yoongi’s knee but the momentum sends you cascading over into his lap. 

Yoongi balks, clearing his throat and lifting his hands as if touching you would set him on fire. Despite the fact your head is cradled in his crossed legs and you’re still mumbling as if nothing changed. 

“You’re nothing like her…” 

“W-who?” Yoongi slowly lowers his arms, blinking rapidly and trying to believe you’re actually cuddling his stomach right now. 

You puff your cheeks out and close your eyes. Humming you shake your head slowly. “You’re nothing like Bon-Hwa. Not at all.”

“Is she your friend?”

“She was. In...in high school.” 

“Oh.” Yoongi swallows, at a loss since you fell into his lap. He looks down at you to find you’ve turned onto your back and are gazing up at him with a soft smile. 

Silence falls between you and Yoongi doesn’t know whether to press the issue when you’re clearly not sober or just say something to at least cover the sound of his beating heart. 

You take his hand without warning.  Your fingers curling around his wrist. 

“W-Wh-What are you doing?”

“My hair.” You whine. “Please.” 

You set his hand on your forehead and close your eyes. Yoongi shifts beneath your weight, ignoring the feeling of his legs beginning to go numb. With the softest of touches, trembling fingers settle in your hair. Slowly, afraid you’ll come to your senses and smack him, Yoongi runs his hand over your head, repeating the motion and gaining a steadier pace as you hum in contentment. 

“She was my friend in high school.” You continue after a few minutes. 

“Korean student?” 

“Yeah. An ex- ess- she came to America for school. I was so nice to her.” 

You whine the last part and Yoongi suppresses a laugh. You were the last one to ever give yourself compliments so it was endearing to see you do so now. 

“But…” You inhale. Exhale. “She was a bitch.”

“Oh.” Yoongi nodded as if he knew who this Bon-Hwa girl was and let you slowly ramble your way through the story. 

“I talked to her first...before anyone else did. We became the best of friends. But-but then she started talking behind my back to other girls. She always acted so- so innocent and like she needed help. I bought her lunch and...and I gave her...gave her my clothes. She slept right there.” 

You point to the corner of the room where Yoongi assumed the space for an air mattress would lie. 

“But she told everyone I was a r-rude American. She even took my Suga poster.” You pause and it takes Yoongi a second to figure out you’re genuinely upset by the stolen merchandise and waiting for a response. 

“I’m sorry. That’s awful.” 

“It’s gone forever.” 

“I’ll get you a new one.” Yoongi promises without knowing when or how but as long as you stop quivering your lip he’ll do anything. 

“Okay…” You mumble. 

“Should we go to bed now?” Yoongi suggests while grabbing ahold of your shoulders and sitting you up. 

“Yeah, we can.” You lift your eyes to look at him and his breath catches. Are you going to kiss him? Can he kiss you? You’re not drunk but you’re not sober, definitely buzzed-

“Do you wanna sleep in here?” You whisper, as if your parents will appear out of thin air to drag Yoongi out the room. 

“I shouldn’t.” 

“You can. They’re asleep. Besides, my bed is cozier than the couch. And it’s cold. Look at the snow.” You point to the window and Yoongi’s gaze widens. You stand up and he does with you, walking over to peer outside. 

Despite the sun having set hours ago, the blanket of snow reflects enough moonlight to cast a blue haze over your backyard giving just enough light to realize there’s a good foot of snow outside. 

“Wow.” Yoongi breathes.

“C’mere.” Turning away from the window, Yoongi finds you’ve changed and are holding up the covers for him. He looks at his jeans and then back at you, causing you to roll your eyes and turn your head so he can shimmy out of them, leaving him in modest boxer shorts. 

You slide in first, growing impatient with his hesitancy but scoot over to the far end of the bed tucked against the wall and wave him over. 

Gingerly, Yoongi slides in next to you. 

“Wait.” 

Yoongi’s heart leaps into his throat. Did you change your mind? Are you going to kick him out? Accuse him of coming on to you?

“I forgot to turn out the light. Can you get it?” 

Releasing his breath, Yoongi nods. Quickly, he slides out of bed and flicks off the light, coming back over and sliding beneath the covers to escape the cold nipping at his legs. 

“Night, Yoongi.” 

“Goodnight.” 

[fxkthatdairy]

Pretty Woman- Ethan Dolan Series (Part One:Wild One)

Overview: Ethan Dolan is the CEO of the most notorious reconstruction company in New York City. On one of his business trips to the city of Los Angeles, he meets an intriguing street woman by the name of (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Ethan hires (Y/N) to be his company for his week in Los Angeles, but what happens when the two very different individuals slowly begin to fall for each other. Will they be able to set aside their differences and work out or will they both end up more hurt than when they started? Heavily based on the film Pretty Woman but with a few twists that I have up my sleeve.

Warnings: mentions of prostitution, slight mentions of abuse, (not a lot in this part)

Ethan Dolan,one half of the chief executive officers of the most notorious reconstruction company; Dolan’s Reconstruction Corporation. The company was based out of New York but had spread globally throughout the years. Ethan Dolan was a true businessman, his whole life revolved around business. He had lost his first wife; Addison Thompson, because she said that he was never home and never paid attention to her or even loved on her. The cold honest truth about his marriage to Addison was to please his mother who was worried about her son growing up alone. He never loved Addison and she never loved him, it was just an attraction that caused them to get married. Once he divorced, he became a sort of playboy, almost every two weeks he had replaced another model with another. Which led to his current conversation with his most recent fling, April Reed, well known Victoria Secrets model.

“I swear Ethan, you are never home, you only ever talk to me if you want sex. Hell, I talk to your assistant more than I ever talk with you. So we are over, by the time you get back, all my stuff will be moved out of your condo,” April furiously yelled through the phone, angry about the CEO’s most recent business trip to the city of Los Angeles, where he was working on buying and reconstructing a well known expensive neighborhood

“Whatever you say April, leave your key at the front desk when you leave,” Ethan said, leaving a bewildered and frustrated model on the other end of the phone as he hung up the phone. It didn’t bother Ethan when the girls got frustrated and left because he never gets attached.

“Another one gone,” questioned Ethan’s business partner, other CEO, and own twin brother, Grayson Dolan.

“Yeah, doesn’t matter, all that matters now is getting that deal made with Mr.Rogers on the neighborhood near Rodeo Drive,” Ethan said as he adjusted his tie. The two brothers were currently heading to a realtors party to try and persuade Eugene Rogers, the current owner of the Villa Grande neighborhood, a very run-down neighborhood near one of the most popular places in Los Angeles, into selling the neighborhood to them so they could renovate it and bring in wealthy families into the neighborhood.

“You know mom is right, you focus so much on business, that you don’t spend any time on your own personal life,” Grayson said as he pulled into the parking garage of the building where the party was being held.

“Well, I don’t see you in any kind of relationship so yeah,” Ethan said as he got out of the car. It was true that Grayson Dolan was happily single and he wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship. Grayson was waiting for the right woman to walk into his life and until then he was content with himself. Unlike Ethan though, Grayson knew how to separate himself from work. He had a hobby in playing the piano and building projects (the irony of owning a Reconstruction company).

“Ethan, I know when to separate myself from work and you don't and that’s just the truth,” Grayson said as he got out of the car as well, locking it before putting the keys in his blazer pocket.

“I know how to separate myself from work,” Ethan said with a scoff but deep down he knew he truly didn’t.

The two brothers walked into the party together. The party was held in a very elegant ballroom and a bunch of rich snobs filled the entire room. Immediately businesses began walking up to the notorious Dolan Twins trying to sell off their properties or even trying to score a partnership where they would renovate the building and on any other day the brothers would have probably be more inclined to talk but today was different, they had a mission on their mind and they were not going to stop until the bought Villa Grande from Eugene Rogers, who was currently by the bar surrounded by other reconstruction owners.

Across town from the party on Melrose Avenue, sat a popular bar called “The Tipsy Cow”. Next to the bar, a rundown, low income, apartment building housed most of the “employees” of the Tipsy Cow. In reality, these employees were prostitutes that frequently picked up men at the Tipsy Cow. The best-known prostitute was (Y/N) (Y/L/N) who often went by her alias of Bunny. (Y/N)’s apartment was at the top of the three-story building and had one studio styled room. (Y/N) was currently standing in front of her bathroom mirror fixing her long black wig and a skimpy top that she currently had on. It was a Saturday night, which brought in a lot of desperate men that would pay her high dollar to have sex with them.

Out of the twelve girls that were common around “The Tipsy Cow”, (Y/N) was the most asked for because not only was she the youngest but she was the wildest one there. She had become a fan favorite last year when she moved from a small town in Georgia and has been ever since. (Y/N)’s father was never in her life and she was raised by her clueless mother and abusive stepfather so when she finally got tired of living in the same small town she moved to Los Angeles. She was only 21 when she moved to Los Angeles and her mother offered her no financial support so all (Y/N) had was the 5,000 dollars that she saved up in Georgia, which looked like a lot but in Los Angeles, it wasn’t enough. She used the money to rent the current apartment that she was in for 1,000 a month and then she walked right into the Tipsy Cow for a job and she met Peach, whose real name was Andrea, and since then she’s worked as a prostitute. It wasn’t her dream job if anything she wanted to go to college and study to get her degree in Psychology and become a counselor but she never had enough money for that so she settled for what she could get. The money she got from “work”, she used to buy her essential items and rent and then saved the rest in hopes one day she could go to college.

(Y/N) grabbed her purse which mainly contained her array of condoms, lubes, and even a few viagra pills. She also carried dental floss, toothpaste, and sample-sized bottles of body wash. She was a very clean woman, was on birth control, and made sure to get tested every month to make sure she was clean of STDs. (Y/N) locked her apartment door behind her before heading down the stairs that violated safety precautions but everyone was just extra careful using them. At the end of the stairs, she bent down to fix her knee-high heeled boots, which caused her mini skirt to rise up and caused a lot of stares which she was used to by now. She walked out of the apartment building and straight over to “The Tipsy Cow”, where she was immediately let in.

“Good Evening Bunny, looks like there is gonna be a decent-sized crowd tonight,” Said James, the bartender, and owner of ‘The Tipsy Cow”. He didn’t hire the girls that would pick up men from his bar but he did help them out as much as he could. They brought more business to his bar since they had been there.

“Sure is James, I feel like tonight someone big is gonna come in!” (Y/N) said in excitement. She spoke truthfully because ever since she started getting ready she had a feeling she was gonna meet someone big.

As the crowds started flowing in, (Y/N) did what she knew best, she started making small talk, asking people to dance with her, and she even would run and go buy the men their drinks for them. This time she walked up to the bar to get an older man a beer and she forgot all about it when she saw a man dressed in a suit and tie sitting at the bar stools which was strange because normally guys would be wearing jeans and an old tee shirt. The man spiked (Y/N)’s interest and she forgot all about the man's beer and walked up to the man who looked out of place.

Back at the party, Grayson and Ethan had finally gotten Eugene Rogers to themselves. They were on the balcony of the ballroom that the party was held in and it wasn’t long now until the Twin’s would sucker Mr.Rogers into selling them the property.

“Mr.Rogers, we would like to offer you 15 million dollars for the entire Villa Grande neighborhood,” Ethan had brought up the deal as he sipped on his glass of champagne.

“I’m sorry Mr.Ethan but I’m not really interested in selling the property,” Mr.Rogers said as he sat down in one of the chairs on the balcony.

“Mr.Rogers, this is an unbeatable deal, we would renovate each one of the houses, and offer you a portion of all the money that we make for reselling the renovated houses,” Grayson spoke trying to persuade Mr.Rogers on his opinion.

“You see that’s the thing, there are already people living there, what happens to those people,” Mr.Rogers questioned.

“We would make sure they were taken care of and compensate them,” Ethan said walking across the floor. This wasn’t how Ethan had pictured this meeting going and it put him in a very awkward situation which caused his nervous habit of pacing to start to show.

“How about this, Wednesday I take you two and possibly your dates out to dinner with my son and I and we can talk more on this, I would like his opinion on the situation,” Mr Rogers said standing up and straightening up his jacket.

“That’s a deal Mr.Rogers,” Grayson said and shook Mr.Rogers hand and Ethan followed suit.

“Thank you both, I’ll have my assistant send you two the information later tonight, Enjoy the party.” Mr Rogers said before walking away leaving the twins standing on the balcony.

“Well that didn’t go as planned,” Ethan sighed and downed the rest of his bottle of champagne before wandering off to the bar area they had. Grayson ran his fingers through his hair knowing his brother was holding his emotions inside because he couldn’t separate from work. He knew that he was probably gonna have to get an Uber because his brother was going to go to the “bar” they had at this party, find out they don’t have hard liquor, and leave to go find some bar and come back home drunk.

“Excuse me Ma’am do you have any bourbon?,” Ethan asked the bartender as he leaned against the bartop.

“No sir we do not, all we have that is an alcoholic beverage is champagne,” The bartender said politely.

“Okay, thank you,” Ethan said and walked away from the bar and walked out of the ballroom. He texted Grayson real quick to get an uber because he was going to take the rental car out somewhere. That somewhere was not known by Ethan at the time. Ethan got in the car and pulled out the parking garage and headed down the streets. He kept looking around until he found The Tipsy Cow which sparked his interest so he parked the rental car in the parking lot. He got out and grabbed his wallet and walked into the bar. He definitely stood out among everyone in the bar but he just ignored the strange looks and walked over and sat down on one of the bar stools.

‘What can I get you sir?” James, the bartender, asked as he saw Ethan sit down on the bar stool.

“Bourbon, please” Ethan said, sliding his suit jacket off and laying it across the seat beside him. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button up and waited for his drink.

“You seem out of place, mister,” (Y/N) said sliding into the unused seat right next to Ethan.

Ethan glanced up and was greeted with the two most vibrant (e/c) eyes he had seen, he didn’t notice the skimpy clothes, or obviously fake hair. He was intrigued to say so so he decided he was going to follow up in a conversation.

“Yeah, Needed a drink and they didn’t have it at the party I was at, so I ended up here,” Ethan said as he took a sip of his glass.

“Well I’m glad you ended up here…” (Y/N) trailed on hoping for him to mention his name.

“Ethan, and what’s yours?” Ethan said.

“Nice to meet you Ethan, I’m Bunny,” (Y/N) said using her alias name.

Ethan wasn’t dumb, he knew what her job was, and he knew that her real name was not bunny, and he knew she was baiting him to have sex with her for money but Ethan didn’t necessarily wanted sex right now, he wanted someone to talk with, and she was who he wanted to get to know. For some reason, he felt the urge to get to know who she was, behind the fake name and wig.

“You know if you want, we can go to your place and I can make you feel good,” (Y/N) said twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

“How much?” Ethan asked knowing that it was here intent of luring him. Normally, he wouldn’t do this kind of thing but he wasn’t paying her for what she thinks he is going to do.

“For you, $300 for the whole night,” (Y/N) said as she grabbed her bag.

“That sounds like a deal to me,” Ethan said, shaking her hand and downing the last bit of bourbon from his glass and slipping a 20 on the bar. He threw his jacket back over and grabbed his car keys. (Y/N) followed him to his car which was a nice black 2013 Chevy Corvette. Back in her hometown, she bonded with her stepbrothers over cars.

“Nice car, Ethan,” (Y/N) said as she slid into the open door that Ethan had opened for her like a gentleman.

“Thanks, it’s a rental, I’m just in town visiting for a business trip” Ethan said as he got in on the drivers side,

“Where are you from?” (Y/N) asked out of curiosity as she adjusted her mini skirt.

“I’ll tell you when you tell me what your real name is because I know it’s not bunny,” Ethan said as he followed the route back to the hotel penthouse that he was currently staying in. He knew that he didn’t have to worry about Grayson because they got separate penthouses.

“Fine, my name’s (Y/N), now where are you from, Ethan?” (Y/N) said in a sigh of defeat. She had never given her real name to anyone but there was something about Ethan that made her want to give it to him.

“That’s a pretty name, and I was born in New Jersey but I live and work from New York,” Ethan said.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) said under her breath as she adjusted her skirt again out of nervous habit. She had never been nervous with a guy before.

“Looks like we are here, here wear this, people can be judgmental,” Ethan said as he handed her his suit jacket.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said as she wrapped the jacket around her. It fit like a dress on her and Ethan took her hand and led her into the lobby where he rushed them into the elevator. (Y/N) felt all the stares on her but she was used to them. In this industry you had to have thick skin. Ethan hit the button that took them to the penthouse level and she bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet. The elevator opened and they walked down the hallway and Ethan unlocked the door. The room blew (Y/N)’s mind when he opened the door. It was larger than her whole apartment and was in mint condition.

“Make yourself at home,” Ethan said as he walked to the kitchen and grabbed two wine glasses.

(Y/N) walked in and looked around the room, it was truly beautiful. She then took Ethan’s suit jacket off and laid it over the dining room chair. She opened her bag and pulled out her small cosmetics bag full of condoms and pulled it out. She joined Ethan in the kitchen and slid the bag over to Ethan.

“What’s this?” Ethan said and picked the bag up and looked inside. His eyes kinda filled with shock at the amount of condoms and the different types of condoms in there, “Oh that’s what this is,”

“You choose, and yeah, I’m a safety girl,” (Y/N) said with a smirk and twirled her hair around her finger.

“I’m flattered but I’m not in the mood right now, I honestly just wanted some company,” Ethan said, pouring two glasses of red wine.

“Oh,” (Y/N) said as she grabbed the bag and put it back up.

“Here you go,” Ethan said and handed her the glass of wine.

“Thank you,” (Y/n) said and grabbed the wine glass, “Since you’ve got me for the night, can i get something a little more comfortable please,”

“Of course, give me a minute, let me go grab something for you real quick,” Ethan said and walked back into his room to grab her some clothes.

(Y/N) walked around the penthouse and admired every single piece of furniture. The walls were a beautiful grey color and the sofas were white and the furniture pieces were stained a dark color. The TV screen in the living room was absolutely huge. The kitchen was open and it was gorgeous. The marble countertops, gas stove, stainless steel appliances, and island with bar stools. It was every inner girl's dream to have this kitchen.

“Here you go, they might be a little big on you but they should work,” Ethan said walking over to (Y/N) and handing her a pair of clothes, “You can go in the bathroom to change,”

“Thank you,” She said and ventured off into his master bedroom that was connected to the master bathroom. She was in awe at the bedroom. The bed was a king sized bed with an elegant black comforter and multiple pillows. The walls were the same toned grey from the living room and were adorned by very sophisticated pieces of Artwork. A large flat screen hung from the wall and underneath was a dark stained dresser. This man truly had a lot of money, she noted to ask him later what he does for a living. She walked into the bathroom and changed into the grey sweatpants and oversized black t-shirt that Ethan had given her. The clothes were very comfortable and smelled of over expensive cologne. She walked out of the bathroom and found Ethan cutting up some strawberries and putting them in a bowl.

“Thank you for the clothes, they are very comfortable,” (Y/N) said as she stuffed the clothes into the bag she brought with her.

“No problem, I hope you like strawberries, thought you might want a small snack,” Ethan said as he slid the bowl of strawberries across the table to her.

“They are my favorite, thank you,” (Y/N) said with a blush and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“(Y/N), I have a proposition for you and I’ll even pay you big but don’t feel pressured to say yes,” Ethan said seriously as he sipped on his glass of wine.

“I’m all ears, Ethan,” (Y/N) said, curious to what the proposition could be.

“Stay with me for a week and attend a few dinners with me, like I said don’t feel pressured to say yes, but if you do say yes I’ll pay you.” Ethan said hoping she would say yes but wanting her not to feel pressured.

“How much?” (Y/N) said taking in everything, she already knew her answer but she just wanted to see.

“50,000,” Ethan said, shooting high, he didn’t know why but he felt like having her with him for this week was meant to happen.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr.Dolan, consider me yours for the week,” (Y/N) said with a smile as she grabbed the bowl of strawberries and sat down on the couch.

——————————————————————

I’m sorry that I’ve been absent on tumblr here lately but I promise I’m working on trying to update a write more! As always I hope you guys enjoy and if you would like to be on the tag list let me know and I hope you all have a wonderful day/night. If you have any requests or concepts or even questions send them in 😊 love you all 💜

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[xhudgenssistersconfessions]

My Zanessa ff

I tried my best to traslate it my Zanessa ff in a good english. Forgive me, I tried to do my best between having a life and a full time job. You can still find it on wattpad written in italian. Maybe I will publish it on english too if someone is interested. https://www.wattpad.com/user/FrancyF94

- Fran 

Chapter 1: I set out on a narrow way many years ago

  “I set out on a narrow way many years ago

Hoping I would find true love along the broken road

But I got lost a time or two

Wiped my brow and kept pushing through

I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you "

- “God Bless the Broken Road” Rascal Flatts         

  Arroyo Grande, California - September 2014

Zac Efron gave a sad look at his childhood home: it always seemed the same house that his father had built when he was just one year old. The grass in the driveway and back garden was yellow and dry from the drought that had hit the state of California during the summer, but the flowers in the flowerbeds her mother tended with great care were in bloom. The old car Mustang of his grandfather Harold was always parked in the driveway and the basketball hoop that his father had set up for him and Dylan when they were little was rusty, but always present . The light beige walls of the house had been repainted by Zac himself a few years earlier. It all looked the same, but now he couldn't stare at that house for more than ten seconds. 

Zac was sure that on entering the front door, past the entrance hall, he would find his old grand piano, his father's electronic engineering books stacked in neat rows in the large cedar bookcase , and the whole house wrapped in the scent of his mother's famous blueberry waffles. The he would go upstairs in his old room, and her mother would have lecture him because despite having reached the threshold of twenty-seven years old, Zac’s old room still remained inaccessible because of the piles of clothes strewn on the floor, along with scores music and torn sheets of some script.

The young man closed his eyes, like wanted to hold those memories and fossilize them in his mind, but then the voice of his younger brother Dylan brought him back to reality.

- I can't believe they want to sell the house-.

The 22-year-old made a disgusted face and takes a long sip of beer, wiping his lips with his hands.

-Why didn't you buy it? - he snorted , with an obvious note of reproach.

Zac rolled his eyes and ignored him: his brother's disappoint was not the last thing you had to occupy.

-Dyl, I've already explained why. There is no point in buying it. What was I supposed to do with it?-

-Leave it like this! Fuck, it's like we're selling our whole life! All of our memories are in here! - Dylan kicked a frustrated kick at the " Sold" sign that towered undisturbed on the lawn, and immediately regretted it, cursing at the pain that he had caused to himself.

-Dylan , I already have two houses. I don't need a third one-

-But it is our home!-

-I know it. Do you think I agree with this whole situation? -

-I believe that you are proving too accommodating. It’s so easy, this is not the time to behave like this! They look like two in their twenties! They have no right! They don't have the right to take and throw away a life together! - the boy's voice cracked. - They don't have the right - he muttered, kicking a pebble and hiding the face of his older brother.

Zac was sure Dylan was holding back from bursting into tears. What did he think he was doing? Their parents certainly didn't need to ask their permission to do certain things. And then he too was shuddering, but with confusion. He wanted answers. He hadn't felt so lost in years, or maybe it was only years that he pretended to be fine and that his life was going great. He was so accustomed to goodbyes and change identities and roles in his work, who really did not understand all the rage of his younger brother. But a small part of him hates Dylan. Even in that situation it was up to him to take care of Dylan. Zac have to play the part of the good big brother, tell Dylan that everything would be okay in the end.  Zac himself wasn't sure about it , but he knew he had to do it because he would never, ever abandon his family in a moment like that .

-Hey guys! We did not call you to chasing butterflies! - the voice of their father David called both brothers to work - I need a hand here ! - said the man dragging two old bikes along the driveway. Zac tried to make himself feel good. Those were their old bikes. What the hell was his dad doing? Did he want to throw them away? They were old, but certainly not scrap. Why did he have all this sudden urge to get rid of their old stuff?

- Come on, let's go. The sooner we finish packing everything, the sooner we can leave little brother- Zac held out a hand to him and Dylan helped him get up.

-I go inside to mom and you stay with dad , ok? -.

Dylan nodded and walked reluctantly into the garage while Zac entered in the house. Just a few weeks early the hall’s walls were full with family photos: little Zac and Dylan with their female cousins during their childhood, family holidays in Hawaii and Colorado, David’s photos of his work trips. Now it was all gone.

Zac saw his mother in the kitchen area. She was setting up pot and pans in some sad brown boxes.

-Hey mom, do you need a hand here? -

-Oh yes, thanks honey. You can start bringing these in the car. I don't think your father wants to keep them , they're just old dishes from grandma's good service. They'll have a better spot in my new house-.

Beside Starla were four full boxes with the word "Kitchen" on it. Zac took a breath while Dreamer, the old family dog, was bouncing around, sniffing Zac’s snew brand jeans.

-Hey dude- he scratched his head affectionately -you'll change house soon-.

For nearly ten years that old dog had lived in Arroyo Grande and now… and now he will live in Oregon. If Zac stopped to think about it it was absurd. Even more absurd was to think that even him would never set foot in that house again.

-I will cry every night without him- his mother finally turned to look at him. Starla, despite her sixty-five years, was still an extremely attractive woman : blonde, without even a white hair , with sweet features and two large hazel eyes. Zac, however, could not help but notice that his mother was extremely tense and had two deep dark circles that furrowed her eyes, as if she hadn't slept well for months.

-Mom I'd take it , you know. I already have Puppy and Simon gets along well with dogs, but Dad insisted so much on having him-.

-No honey, it’s okay. Your father wants to do his own thing this time too ... where’s your brother? -

Zac tried to ignore his mother's unhappy comment.

-Dylan is in the garage helping dad, he is a little lost, but he'll soon get over it-

Stare was silence for a moment, she was pale. Then she approached the eldest son and hugged him tightly.

-Thank you honey for coming today. And thanks for dragging Dylan here. I know he's angry , you probably are angry too-.

Probably he was angry. His mother was probably right. Probably Zac should have been angry too. But the reality was that he was not angry, he was in a blind confusion. How was it was even possible that his parents, after two children and thirty years of marriage, had decided to put an end to their marriage? How was it possible that two people who had been madly in love for years now decided to divorce? And without even some drama. Zac had noticed that something was wrong between his parents during the Easter holidays, the last April, but had not given too much attention on it. He was so busy with his new movie and then what couple didn't have some bumps on the road  after so many years together? Besides, he and his brother had  left home at a young age and her mother had recently lost his father. Perhaps Starla and David were just going through a transition phase. But when the two young Efron brothers showed up home for the Fourth of July holiday , their parents sat them down in the living room, announcing their impending divorce. “ We don't get along anymore” his father had sadly sentenced, visibly embarrassed when his parents, Hal and Dot, both in their eighties, had asked for an explanation cause they were worried. Zac hadn't believed a single word because everything his father had said to justify himself : it just didn't make sense in his head. It just didn't make sense. Because two adults with common sense as her parents had always been don't wake up one morning and decide that they don't love each other anymore, that they feel so indifferent towards each other that they ask for a divorce. They were not an inexperienced young couple with small children, they were two mature people with children already away from home. Starla and David should have enjoyed the serenity that reigned in the Efron house…. and instead they had come to hate each other .

- Mom, can I ask you something? – Zac said.

-Anything you want honey-Starla looked into his son’s eyes..

-Dad was cheating on you? -. he knew he was crossing a fine line between respect for his parents and irreverence, but he wanted honesty from both of his parents.

Starla started to hear those words coming from one of her children. He looked to Zac straight in the eyes.

-Zachary ...-

-I am serious mom. I know it's not a question ... it's not a simple question to answer-

-It is not a question a child should ask to his mother-

-Mom, please. You 've been talking to me about sex and love since I was ten and you and dad have been fucking open with me and Dylan. I just have to understand-

-Love changes Zac. It changes and in some cases it ends - .

The young man gave her a doubtful look: it couldn't be like that, it wasn't enough for him. Love ends for a reason.

- I don't think that's enough. Not after thirty years. Until last year everything was fine, you and dad loved each other. You and dad were fine-

- Your father and I had been in trouble for a long time. We had been in that way for a long time, but we gritted our teeth and always told ourselves that it was worth trying to fix things, but then we reached the breaking point-.

-How much time? -

- A long time - now Starla was slightly annoyed - please Zachary, these are ... these are decisions ... this decision that your father and I made was terribly difficult for both of us . But I want him to be happy and he wants the same thing for me. I know that and you and Dylan do not understand our choice, but I ask only to respect it-.

Zac took a step back. Perhaps he had exaggerated, perhaps he should have given her space.

.Ok- he replied, shrugging - I'm going to put these in your car and I'll be back-.

A moment later Starla found herself squeezed in the arms of her eldest son. Zac's arms encircled her from behind and the boy deposited a light kiss on her head. He had already got rid of the box.

-Sorry mom. Sorry- he whispered - I shouldn't have asked you those things-.

-It's okay- the woman turned to look him in the face and reassure him - I don't expect you and Dylan to approve this… this thing-.

The woman lightly touched the blue coin that peeled from her son's breast : it had been a year since Zac hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. He had done it for his health, but mostly for his family.

-Dad and I know that for you, the last year has been difficult , indeed the last few years  . But we are so proud of you honey-.

-Mom ... - the boy blushed. If there was one thing he hated it was receiving compliments when he knew he didn't deserve it. His mother was right, it was a difficult year for him.

- After all, you have been sober for more than a year, not that you were an alcoholic before ... -

-Mom, stop it-

-What's ?-

-Stop! I don't deserve it! -

-What? You started drinking too much, you noticed it in time and went through rehab. You're a good boy and you always take care of your brother. Zac, you deserve these compliments. You are my baby-

-I am not your baby anymore, for many years now- Zac kissed her on the cheek. He was incredibly grateful to her. He was incredibly grateful to both of his parents. -Dyl and I wanted to leave immediately, but I think that we’ll sleeping here and we'll have breakfast together-.

-Do you wanna sleep here? Zac the furniture in your room has already been taken away-

-We will use the sleeping bags in the garage - Zac looked around , full of affection for his childhood home – I wanna sleep here one last time. The kitchen stove still works - his eyes twinkled.

-I will make the waffles that you like so much- said Starla-but you have to share the news you’re your father-

-Mom! -

-Zachary ! -

-You guys have been married  for thirty years, and made eachother happy and now you can not share even a breakfast together? -

The woman bit her lower lip. She was thinking.

-If it's fine for your father , then it's ok- she finally said.

The young man hugged her again to thank her. He was sure she knew when that house meant to all of them and wanted to give her a fitting goodbye.

- Are you sure you didn't have anything else to do? You were supposed to go to Ashley's wedding this weekend-

-Ash will understand- zac said firmly - I'm going to tell dad and Dylan that we are stay here tonight-.

  Vanessa sighed into the darkness of the room and read over and over again the message that Ashley Tisdale, her best friend, had sent her.

“Nessa, I 'm sorry . Kiss Austin for me. Call me for anything. "

That was Ashley. Vanessa adored her: even days before from her marriage to Chris, her best friend had think to herself for a second.

The girl didn't type a return answer, it wouldn't make sense. It was already three in the morning and she would call Ashley tomorrow so she could talk to her calmly. Austin's soft snore indicated that he had finally fallen asleep. Vanessa touched her boyfriend's blond hair - he looked so peaceful while he was sleeping. Austin seemed to be able to finally rest only when he slept: his mother Lori's condition had worsened further and she had been rushed to hospital. When doctors had informed them that she probably would not past the night, Austin had ended in a selective mutism. He had watched her mother suffer through months of cancer and now he was not saying that all the treatments, the money spent and the hours spent at her side were useless? That all the prayers they had addressed to God had not been heard?

Vanessa was his rock. From the exact moment she arrived the diagnosis she had done the impossible to stay close to her fiance. It had calmed him, comforted him. And so she had done that evening too, cradling him in her arms to make him fall asleep.

She wasn't ready to lose Lori either: she had grown a bond with the woman during those three years she had spent with Austin, she wasn't ready to give up on her. Not when the rest of the world kept spinning, when the rest of the people continued to live as if nothing had happened. Vanessa had always believed that if she behaved well, if she proved to God that she was a good person , then nothing bad could ever happen to her in life. Or at least nothing catastrophic. Thinking back it was a purely childish thought, but until then no event had affected that worldview. Yet in the last year she had had to change her mind. She had discovered that perhaps God did not listen to the prayers of everybody , perhaps God did not exist at all or perhaps he was just an old sadist who played to move his pieces at will on a large chessboard. There was no other possible explanation. God had blessed her with talent, fame and a peaceful family life. Maybe he had given her too much. Sometimes the girl thought she was the cause of Austin's suffering. He was too perfect for her. The Butler family was perfect and now Lori was paying the price for all that God had given to Vanessa. If Austin had known what she really thought he probably would have thought that she was crazy, but there was nothing that Vanessa could do about it.

Promise me  that you'll take care of him.

Those were the last words Lori had said to her three days ago . She hadn't said them with the knowledge that they would be the last words she would ever say to her future daughter in law but they were. And now Vanessa feel that she is responsible for Austin's happiness. Lori had been her son's chosen one for years and now she was gone forever. It was up to Vanessa, therefore, to try to make her boyfriend's life as normal as possible.

The girl sighed heavily as she retraced the events of the previous days. It was all still confused. Lori's funeral had only taken place that same afternoon. The memory, however, was blurred in the girl's mind and seemed to belong to centuries ago. Lori had wanted to die in the hospital in Los Angeles, where she had spent the last few weeks of her life. The funeral ceremony therefore took place in Los Angeles, where the woman's body was cremated. If she closed her eyes, Vanessa could clearly see the broken face of Austin's father and sister, she could feel her boyfriend's tight grip during the eulogy. She hadn't cried at the funeral, she hadn't had the strength. She heard Austin move and mutter something in his sleep and so Vanessa’s gaze fall on the alarm clock: three in the morning. She might as well try to sleep for at least a couple of hours. In the morning, Austin's family would take Lori's ashes home to their family home in Anaheim . Austin needs her. He would need all the affection he could get. The girl switch off the cell, laid her head on the pillow and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

[asbcblog]

TOP SONGS OF 2020 WRITE UP!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6WDeuRMOV8neAhU2zd193d?si=lZ9gDIp0TsCCEOeCS7_QGw

1. I remember everything - John Prine

I was going to write an incredibly earnest and long review of this song that outlined just how much John Prine meant to me. I can’t really do it and I think this song probably says enough alone. With only a few chords he always manages to express all the little things that make love what it is, all different kinds of love. Long lasting, short moments, love with places, sounds, going places and staying home, endless family ties, and the often fragile but in the end tenable love between all human beings in the face of catastrophe. The pandemic stole a lot of things from a lot of people this year, including John Prine, but he will remain one of the greatest songwriters of all time and his songs will live on forever.

2. Dream Palette - Yves Tumor

I can’t drive but let’s pretend I’m driving, I’m in LA and it’s night time or something, my elbow’s out the window, don’t know why I’m wearing sunglasses, this song comes on the radio, I’m the coolest person alive.

3. Boylife in EU- Yung Lean

Not to repeat my review of Garden but when the chorus comes I feel like I’m on top of a really big hill and its pouring it down with rain and im screaming but this time its because of a no-deal Brexit.

4. Garden- Joseph Futak

My review was already used as part of Joe’s promo campaign and it said: “feel like im on top of a really big hill and its pouring it down with rain and I’m screaming when the drums come in x x”

5. Circle the Drain- Soccer Mommy

I like this song because I too, am often alone in my room, and I have also become obsessed with subtle breakbeats to an extent where people around me have become very bored of the subject.

6. The Brothers William Said- The Innocence Mission

I listened to this song over and over when I was travelling round London in January just after my birthday, it felt like I’d been listening to it for years, like it was in a movie I’d forgotten. It felt at the time like I was saying a lot of goodbyes, recognising that things weren’t really like they used to be.

7. On the Floor- Perfume Genius

Say it with me ladies: I CROSS OUT HIS NAME ON THE PAGE!!!!

8. Shameika- Fiona Apple

She may not believe it but I bet Fiona Apple looked tough with a riding crop.

9. Song for Our Daughter- Laura Marling

Everything about this is fantastic, mellow and bright at the same time. Every part is brought forward individually and no part of this song gets left behind. A stunning vocal from Laura Marling and purposeful lyrics set to a cinematically emotive instrumental. Pure magic as always.

10. Building site outside- Piglet

Not going to lie, I was in a very vulnerable emotional state when I listened to this song for the first time, but I think that makes it no less powerful and just, sad. The lyric ‘she smiled at me so much last time’ is just so simple and devastating that you forget this would’ve been on every indie film soundtrack from 2000-2008 if Piglet was an industry plant.  

11. I wonder- Shamir

One word: EPIC

12. Crimson Tide- Destroyer

Listened to this every time I came on my period this year.

13. In the Dining Room - Joe Pera talks with you

Adam showed me Joe Pera when I really felt incredibly sad at the very beginning of this year. It’s a show that’s made me feel good, no matter the circumstances. This moment in the show made me smile, and I love hearing Gene come in a bit too early.

14. Stupid Love- Lady Gaga

Shakin my little booty in the kitchen to this x

15. Might bang, might not- Little Simz

Livid we didn’t all get to go to End of the Road and see all the hot dad’s loving Little Simz.

16. Fire- Waxahatchee

A truly insane vocal. I listened to this song on my way to work almost every day from September to December and fantasised singing back up at some kind of outdoor gig in the summer and it made everything significantly less bleak.

17. Hannah Sun- Lomelda

This song is too nice and genuine for me to say anything other than, “really lovely song :)”.

18. Scroll of Sorrow- Machine Girl, guayaba

Listened to this a lot this year while sitting on my kitchen floor staring into an empty oven, wondering if I was ever going to go to a party again.

19. Build a nest- Jeff and Ruby Parker

Have put this on in the flat because the guitar solo reminds me of everything my dad listens to at home. A really great piece of music that kicks off a really exciting album.

20. Kiss me thru the phone- That Kid

Ned said yesterday that he thought it was funny how much the original of this song is so foundational to hyper pop and I agree. Also I’ve started saying ‘Bitch’ like That Kid does every time I stub my toe.

21. Cuckoo- Sam Amidon

I am punting down a creek, looking in the branches that hang over the water for the bird that shall lead me to my next clue.

22. Places/ Plans- Skullcrusher

Used this song to comfort myself in moments where I also just don’t understand why I’m not famous.

23. Sweetjoy- Jam City

Finally….. HAIM for dudes.

24. Clean Living- Slow Weather

I saw someone listening to this on the side of my Spotify so I decided to give it a go and it was a fantastic decision. It’s mental that half of this song is an outro.

25. Summer All Over- Blake Mills

Along with the music video visuals and the dampened piano tone, this wins the competition for least summer-y song with the actual word summer in the title.

26. Ready Cheeky Pretty- CHAI

All of my joy this year has been brought to me by CHAI. I have nothing negative to say about CHAI. If you have anything negative to say about CHAI you’re gonna have to go through me.

27. Diaphanous- Land of Talk

This band was recommended to me by a guy I was trying to flirt with at rough trade east but everything closed before I could impress him by saying ‘I think they’re really cool’.

28. Anything - Adrianne Lenker

Anyone who has ever attempted to write a song with me knows how much I simply love rhyming. Seriously though, every thing rhymes, brilliant stuff. (It’s also such a brilliantly full and constant song that still manages to move and remain exciting from start to finish. I imagine this is partially due to Adrianne Lenker’s almost nursery rhyme- esque structure and also due to her beautifully colloquial approach to family dynamics.)

29. Blow- Dj Gigola, Kev Koko

This song makes me wish I was Jason Bourne- just wanna jump really far while something explodes behind me.

30. Money Can’t Buy- Yaeji, Nappy Nina 

‘Well I’ll buy some Yaeji tickets, they’re for NOVEMBER, there’s NO WAY they’re gonna get cancelled’.

31. Only the Truth- Johanna Warren

When I first listened to this song I felt like I was floating in the ocean looking up at the stars as the drums came in on ‘what more can I do’. An incredibly beautiful and careful song.

32. Gasoline- Haim

2020 could probably be summarised with the phrase ‘WHY AM I NO LONGER IN CALIFORNIA? WHY DID I LEAVE CALIFORNIA?’ And this song is the 3 minutes 13 seconds seconds of escapism I needed to not topple into a full spiral.

33. Mapuu - Ic3peak

No one can convince me that Ic3peak are real people. They are a collective made up of child ghosts.

34. Don’t Worry- Bladee

Whenever I have an anxiety attack in the night I wake up and see Bladee’s ghost of the future over my bed, he says ‘Don’t worry’ and mumbles for a bit as I fall back into a peaceful sleep.

35. The biggest tits in history- The magnetic fields

The most relatable magnetic fields song imo.  

36. Sand Castle- nijuu

Yujin is a genius and my answer is yes, I do want to just walk for a while.

37. Curl Up- Darren Hayman

Ned reminded me how much I used to love Darren Hayman, and both of them have been a pretty big part of my year.

38. When Will Death Come- Sarah Mary Chadwick

‘Wow, mental voice’ - Ned, while doing the washing up.

39. Dear Dad - Sylvie Wiley

‘But I didn’t cry, you’d be proud’ Sylvie, I’m weeping forever.

40. 34+35- Ariana Grande

Hehehehehehehehehe

41. Garden Song- Phoebe Bridgers

Phoebe Bridgers is a pretty unparalleled lyricist and this song feels like a disconnected series of thoughts that somehow all make sense together and come to create something that doesn’t build, but all just kind of sits? What I’m trying to say is that I don’t really know what she’s talking about but like, I get it.

42. Ringtone (remix) - 100 gecs, Charli xcx, Kero Kero Bonito, Rico Nasty, 

I love the way it sounds like everyone got just one take and had to improvise all the lyrics but it still bangs.

43. Changer- Andy Shauf

Thank you lord for another album about a smaller than average man overthinking all of his social interactions with lots of lovely clarinet parts.

44. What’s your pleasure - Jessie Ware

My pleasure jessie? Probably just sitting by the fire with a tough crossword and a glass of merlot x

45. Slime- Shygirl

Shygirl’s series of singles this year made me even more livid that I had to take out my eyebrow piercing for my new job this year.

46. Sears Tower- Salem

Perfect halloween release.

47. Title track- happyness

Ned turned to me and said: ‘so is their new thing that they sound like Elliot Smith’ and I said: ‘and that’s a bad thing?’

48. Cross-sound ferry (walk on ticket) - Hamilton Leithauser

Have found unbelievable joy in chopping veg and shouting GREEEEEEEN PORT, NEEEEEEWWWW YOOORK alone in my kitchen.

49. Lowswimmer- Hailaker

I’ve loved hearing Jemima’s voice when I haven’t got to see her much this year. I normally take the piss out of the Hambledon line but I haven’t seen that this year really either. I guess we find sentimentality in strange places.

50. XS - Rina Sawayama

This song made me feel very decadent on those days where I didn’t wash.

51. Emily- Clem Snide

Let’s be more kind and brave in the face of it all.

52. Building a fire- Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy

P.O.V you’re doing bushcraft in the garden with your husband Bonnie Prince Billy and he’s here to protect you.

53. Asexual Wellbeing- Okay Kaya

This song absolutely bangs but I am truly bewildered by the way they singled out the line ‘if they could put a pulse into a spinach leaf, can they turn the two of us into a tree?’ in the production as if that was a true piece of genius. As I say great tune tho.

54. Anthems- Charli xcx

The soundtrack to couch to 5k

55. Never Better- Kitty Fitz

A SE London queen bringing us huge pop tunes in 2020. So so excited to see what 2021 brings us from Kitty, she’s gonna be a real force!

56. Deep in Love- Bonny Light Horsemen

This is such a delightful song which (mainly due to the time I actually got around to listening to the whole record) for me really rang in the spring. A beautifully recorded testament to the feeling of love getting stronger meaning you have a lot more to lose.

57. Malibu- Kim Petras

My song of the summer, made me feel like I was at the beach when really I was in Lewisham.

58. Like I’m Winning it- Girlpool

I’m so delighted that the turn girlpool have made this year is towards dramatic goth music with breakbeats. Their voices both sound amazing and they look simply incredible.

59. Azad- Frazey Ford

I have no idea what she’s saying as always but I love it.

60. Helio- Charlotte Dos Santos

I’m literally so excited for what Charlotte Dos Santos is gonna put out next. The production is fantastic and her aesthetics are flawless.

61. Lost in the Country- Trace Mountains

‘I checked my email twice as I cried’. Safe to say we’ve all been there this year amirite girlies x

62. Unfold You- Rostam

I hated this at first, I thought, what’s this lo-fi beats to study to shit, but it’s now my classic ‘I’m just gonna pop to the shops, anyone want anything? x’ song. Huge.

63. Oh Yeah- A.G cook

One of 2020s realisations is that me and A.G Cook kind of look like we could be cousins.

64. Can’t cool me down- Car Seat Headrest

I would like to personally thank will Toledo for giving me a tune that got me off my ass when I was too warm to do exercise this summer.

65. Take back the radio- Katy J Paerson

In love with Katy J Pearson’s voice and the way this song builds. Just pretty flawless and feel good in my opinion. I think she’s such an exciting new artist who’s gonna be around for a very very long time.

66. Good Woman- The Staves

‘I’m a good woman’… speak for yourselves.

67. A Little Love- Jack Francis

Feel like I’ve been singing this song for about 5 years! It’s amazing and I’m so excited about what Jack’s going to bring out in 2021, he’s a genius and also the nicest man on the planet.

68. Lullaby No.4 - Snailbeach

This song makes me feel like I’m being hypnotised on a haunted carousel in a very relaxing way.

69. Boyfriend in every city- Roma Radz

Sucks that she can’t see any of her boyfriends cos of covid :(

70. Jaja ding dong- Will Ferrell

Get back in there and play Jaja Ding Dong !!!!

71. Highway- Jonatan leandoer96

Man, would be pretty sick to have 20 boys outside the club but alas the clubs are dead and I’ve only regularly texted about 4 people this year.

72. De nadie- Kali Uchis

Felt v sexy listening to this for the first time in a Morley’s in Honor Oak.

73. Weird Fishes- Lianne La Havas

This album was a pretty triumphant return for Lianna La Havas and me teenage self simply couldn’t be happier.

74. Micro Creature- Aya Gloomy

Love that despite everything about this song telling me otherwise, that the artwork for this single looks like Aya Gloomy is just chilling in the fields by my family home in Hampshire.

75. Si Ella Sale- Bad Bunny

Better get on the duolingo now if I’m gonna know what this guy’s saying at Porto next year.

76. Through my sails- Mountain Man

Truly gentle reimagining of an already incredibly beautiful song, mountain man make every word seem new!

77.Christmas Day (get me outta this funk) - Baggio and Blue 5 Years- Bath days

In joint 77th place are two banging Christmas songs that have soundtracked a pretty bleak Christmas period and have made me feel pretty joyous in their ways, despite one literally being called Blue Five Years.

[zankivich]

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 5

Hiya! This is the chapter when we get to figure out a little more of why Shawn is the way that he is. I’m not interested in villains for villains sake; I’m interested in complex characters in need of healing and kindness and also to maybe fight for themselves a little bit. I think this is gonna get very interesting if the thoughts in my head are anything to go off of. Also I try not to bug y’all too often but I am very very poor at the moment so if you did want to buy me a Kofi right here. That would be life changing. Ya girl got bills. K bye. 

WARNINGS: sex without a condom (gotta wrap it up folks), a mini panic attack w/o much description, and just some general softness. 

*Shawn’s point of view*

He’s in the studio. It’s his happy place. He remembered being eight years old, just barely big enough to climb into the seat, but finding something magical about the sound board. His nanny used to pick him up from school and he would beg her to take him to where his dad was working. They only started letting him go once they realized he’d stop throwing temper tantrums. He thrived there. He listened quietly and he learned about how to track vocals, how to create rhythms and what actual sound waves could look like for a vocal. And then he was thirteen, and his dad brought this guy in.

He was in baggy jeans and a green sweatshirt. His guitar had a plus sign on it, and there were scratches against the body where he’d strummed too hard. The sound guy told him his name was Ed Sheeran. He was there to sing for his dad. That day changed his life forever.

He went from playing soccer every day after school, to playing guitar and creating covers. His dad happily put him in the guitar lessons and the piano lessons and the vocal lessons. It was the outlet he never knew he needed, but couldn’t live without. Shawn was always thoroughly convinced he hadn’t been destined for much. Was never smart in school, never particularly passionate about anything either. And since the day he was born, all he knew was that his dad was powerful and his dad had money, and that meant one day he would have the same. Not because of who he was or what he accomplished, but because of who his dad was. Music changed that for him.

“Hey, pull back on the reverb?” He suggested to the producer. “It’s clouding the vocal. Trust me.”

There’s a guy in the booth. His dad’s new golden star. Niall Horan. His first album had done twice the numbers they anticipated, and so after a North American tour to test the waters he quickly pulled him in to try and do it again. That’s why Shawn was there of course. To oversee the creative vision, and “provide feedback”. What it really meant was, his dad knew he could determine what was good and what was bad, so why waste his time when he could have Shawn do it. As far as his dad was concerned, he should feel lucky that he was even allowed to be a part of the process.

“Aye, this is just isn’t feeling right. I’m coming out.” Niall said from the booth in his thick irish accent.

There’s a room of writers, but it’s actually pretty organic in comparison to some of the other artists under his dad’s belt. Two of them are friends of Horan’s from home, who had followed him along for the ride. He plops down on one of the couches and reaches for a guitar. His fingers pluck absently at the strings and Shawn can’t help but glance over there instead of filling out whatever dumbass report his dad was asking him to fill out. There’s a redheaded woman on the couch who started playing alongside him. Another guy uses his lap as drums, and they just start jamming with each other.

It’s electric. It’s that thing that made his stomach lurch like he was at the top of a rollercoaster. It’s what left him more at home in his own skin than anything else ever could. The energy in the room actually shifts. He swears he can feel the music. Like actually feel every strum in his fingertips as if its his hands on the guitar. It’s authentic and real and they’re just playing for fun.

But, somewhere in there he remembers that this is all he’ll ever get. Just watching from the sidelines while everyone else gets to play. It breaks his heart. It makes him sick to his stomach. So sick that he leaves abruptly in the middle of the session crashing outside and choking desperately for air. This is what he got. A noose that always felt too tight, with the hope every day that he just might get the chance to breathe. This was it for him.

***

*Y/n’s point of view*

Shawn: I need you.

y/n: That’s gonna be a little difficult. I’m in Miami, remember? First show of the tour for Grande.

Shawn: Well when are you coming back?

y/n: I’m staying through the first week of shows to make sure all the kinks get worked out. No pun intended.

Shawn: I don’t think I can wait that long.

You were walking past the merch booth getting set up and stopped to chat with some of the people working it. You had a lot of respect for merch booth people, depending on the show--and the pop shows were always the worst--shit could get hectic and fast. They deserved tons more respect than they got, and you were happy to show them some.

You peered down at your phone and read Shawn’s text over again. It felt a little off, even for him. You had gone stretches of time without hooking up before. There were times where he needed to be in LA while you stayed behind in New York, times where you had one show in one city, while he had one in another. It hadn’t been a problem before. You always just found time when the two of you available, and went from there. Shawn hadn’t ever pushed it further than that before.

y/n: everything alright?

Shawn: my dad is satan

y/n: well retweet sis! We been knew that.

y/n: Sorry. I wish I could be there to relieve the stress. If you wanna hop on a flight and meet me in Miami feel free lol

You head for the sound check, checking in to make sure that that stage was being set up, so that  meet and greet could go off without a hitch later. You nearly trip over one of Ariana’s dogs and die, but other than that it’s fine. There’s hours and hours of labor that have to go into a show before the doors ever open, before those kids every step inside to see their idol get up on the stage. It’s your job, along with a host of other incredibly talented and hard working people, to make sure that those hours seamingly don’t even exist. You don’t mind it. Back in the early days you used to go on whole tours to make sure your artists were taken care of. It wasn’t until you turned thirty that you realized slowing down a little bit was in everyone’s best interest.

When you’re not needed you set up in an office space to answer emails and check in with the office. The afternoon passes quickly, and before you know doors are opening up, and the kids begin to pile in. You’re backstage making sure the band and Ariana are good to go, when the tour manager comes up to you looking panicked and confused the way he always did.

“Hey, y/n! Sorry to bother you, but can I borrow you for a second?”

You clap hands with Ariana wishing her luck she won’t need before heading off with Mike.

“What’s up, Mike? Everything okay?”

He nodded. “Yea! It’s just that I got a call from the head of security at the back of the venue, and there’s a guest for you who doesn’t have a pass.”

“A guest for me? I don’t have any guests tonight. Did they catch a name?”

“It’s uh...It’s Manny Mendes’ kid? Shawn?”

“What?!”

Mike winced. “He uh, he told them you personally invited him. Guy must be charming, or they probably would’ve turned him away.”

Charming, your black ass. He was a nuisance is what he was.

“I didn’t personally invite him anywhere! Take me to this dumbass, please.” You groaned in frustration.

The whole walk there you’re just trying to figure out how the hell he managed to get here that fast! Who takes a back handed joke, and then actually follows through it? Shawn fucking Mendes. This man was going to be a thorn in your side for the foreseeable future. God, was he lucky his dick was big.

Sure enough, at the back of the venue at one of the stage doors, Shawn is sitting there with a couple of security guards. His hands rest easily in his pockets, and he’s telling them a fucking joke that has them laughing their asses off. Where was the justice?!

“Hey. Took you long enough.” He chuckled reaching for a duffle bag at his feet.

What was he moving in?

“Shawn what in the hell are you doing here?”

He stared at you incredulously. “You told me to come!”

“I was kidding! How in the hell did you get here that fast anyway?”

“Honey, we have a private jet. Surely that’s not surprising to you. What are you gonna turn me away at the door right now?”

Mike is still staring at you with nothing but confusion on his face. He probably had no idea you even knew Shawn Mendes, let alone enough to accidentally invite him to Miami. This was bad. This was bad, bad, bad.

Your gritted your teeth. “He is very unfortunately with me. Mike give him a pass.”

“Are you sure th--”

“Mike just given him the damn pass.” You sighed turning on your heel to disappear back inside.

Shawn keeps up with you easily with his obnoxiously long legs. Mike power walks behind the two of you ear piece and ipad still blaring.

“Mike you can run along before curtain call. I’ve got things here.”

It’s not an option. It’s a directive, and he quickly follows it leaving you alone with your headache of the day.

“You really call the shots around here, aye?”

“Little bit. Follow me.”

You lead him to the little office space you have in one of the green rooms, and quickly close the door before more people find out that the two of you are together. He takes a seat on one of the couches like he belongs. You want to pull your hair out.

“What in the hell Shawn?” You groaned. “We have rules. Very specific rules.”

“I know. Look, I know! But you offered, okay? And I couldn’t...I wasn’t gonna wait a week. I need this. I need you.”

That certainly was a little more honest than the two of you typically got with each other.

You paused to take a better look at him, and it isn’t the prettiest sight. The smile and witty laughter from outside was a thin facade to the bags beneath his eyes and the frown that’s evident now. He looks a little pale, like paler than usual, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he hadn’t been sleeping well. You did know better. In fact you were starting to realize that maybe you knew him a little better than you gave yourself credit for.

You took a seat on the table in front of him, your legs knocking together in the small amount of space between you.

“What’s going on? And don’t say it’s just cause you’re stressed.”

He peered up at you, his fingers tapping anxiously against his thighs.

“Since when do you care? That’s not exactly within the parameters of our relationship now is it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not all of us go through life only living based off of what we can take from others. I know it’s a wild concept to you, but some of us? Some of us can actually be decent human beings.”

“Great so I’m a piece of shit and you’re a saint, is that it?”

“Why are you trying to fight with me? Don’t be a child; stop deflecting. Just tell me what the hell is wrong, and maybe we can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it, y/n. I’m stuck. I’m always going to be stuck okay? There is no fixing me.”

He looked exhausted. And it wasn’t the hard day at work exhausted either. This looked bone deep in him. You couldn’t tell if this was something you’d just never noticed, or if he was letting down a wall for you to see behind for the first time. Whatever it was, you didn’t like it. There wasn’t time to work through why that was, or what it meant for you to care enough to want to fix it. You just knew that you didn’t like it. That’s all that mattered.

You reached forward, your fingers pushing at his knees to make more room for you to straddle his lap. His hands immediately came up to rest on your ass, and you slid your hand over his heart. It was beating like crazy. He just needed to slow down. He needed you to help him slow down. When you kissed, his fingers dug a little more deeply into the flesh of your ass. He groaned softly against your mouth and pulled you closer. It wasn’t necessarily that you didn’t kiss at all in the time that you spent together. Shawn had no problem dominating your mouth. It just so happened that in a relationship built on dominating your body there were a lot of other things you could be doing than kissing.

His lips were still heavenly though. He knew how to tug at your jaw, how to pull you in closer and run his tongue perfectly along the roof of your mouth. It was as intoxicating as all the other things he seemed to be able to do with his body. Only instead of quickly moving to the next phase the way that he usually would, he kept you there a while longer. His lips moved against yours and your arms wrapped tight around him. You could feel his shoulders release beneath your touch, could feel his hands relax against your ass. By the time he flips you to lay your body down against the couch, fingers already tugging to get his jeans down his thighs, your lips are buzzing, and you feel kind of lightheaded. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Tell me what you need.” You whispered against his lips. “Tell me how to please you.”

“Need to be in you. Right now.” He muttered reaching beneath your skirt.

His fingers found their way between the fabric of your underwear, gently nudging between your folds where you were already wet. He tugged the thing band down off of your legs and tucked them into his jean pocket.

He groaned softly plunging his middle finger inside. “You’re always wet for me. Know exactly how to be good for me.”

He curved up and to the right, rubbing quickly against your walls to get you where you needed to go. This wasn’t about foreplay. This wasn’t a scene. There was no plan here. It was frantic and a little messy. But you liked it. You liked it more than you knew what to do with.

“Are you my good girl?” He panted jerking his finger up and down to touch the thing inside of you that made you thrash.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Please, Shawn. Please?”

“The faster you cum, the faster I can get inside this pussy.”

His bicep tensed and his breath came out in harsh pants against the side of your neck. His fingers won’t stop, won’t let up, and your body gives him exactly the reaction he wants every single time. It’s like magnets. Like he knows exactly how to touch you to make you scream. And you do. Always.

His thumb rubs circles on your clit and your body practically melts. Your back arches and your moans get higher as your orgasm hits. Not one to ever be outdone unless it’s by himself, Shawn withdrew his fingers and immediately pushed his way inside of you. The stretch alone in conjunction with the weight of him pressing you down into the couch was enough to heighten your orgasm to a place it’d never been before.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit y/n.”

“I can’t fucking breathe--Shit! it’s so good!”

The arm of the couch provides a kind of leverage you couldn’t get if you prayed for it, and Shawn’s taking full advantage. There’s something different in the way that he handles you. He’s a little more desperate than you’re used to. His hips are less skilled precision and more broken lunges. But you love it just the same. Push your hips up against him chasing something similar, chasing a high that will take you both straight off that cliff together.

“I love being inside you.” He whimpered against your chest. “Nothing feels like you. Wanna give it to you so good.”

“You do. You fucking do.”

His teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder and it drives you up a fucking wall. You dig desperately into the couch with your heels and cry out for him. It’s fast and dirty and not at all like what you’re used to. It’s just him, just him in all your senses. And you just wanted to give that back to him tenfold.

“Want you to cum for me again. Want you to come while I shoot my load in your pussy.”

“O--Okay. Okay I’ll cum, just please keep fucking me just like that. Please, just like that”

He pushes himself up onto his knees and moves your thigh up so that your knee is pressed against the arm of the couch. His dick doesn’t even make sense at this point. It’s like amnesia. Dick amnesia. But, he does this thing where he twists his hips every time he pushes his way back into you, and it makes you cum like a waterfall. And the second you’re cumming, his thrusts deteriorate into quick, rugged slaps against your sex. When he peaks, it’s euphoria for you both. Absolute Euphoria.

For a while neither of you move except for the pounding of your hearts in unison with one another. You can’t feel your toes, and it’s so sensitive to feel him inside you in this way. It’s not just good sex it’s a feeling that he gives you in wide abundance. You feel complete with him on top of you. Sated and fulfilled and taken care of.

“Wow.” He chuckled leaning down to kiss you roughly. “That was incredible.”

You giggled. “Yea. We’re good at that. Real good.”

He slides off your body and disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes. He comes back with some damp paper towels and cleans tenderly between your legs.

“It’s not my egytpian cotton, but it gets the job done.” He chuckled.

He already looks entirely different. There’s color in his cheeks and his eyes have that obnoxious sparkle shit that they do. You like him a lot better when he looks this way. And there’s a part of you that feels a sense of pride at being able to bring that out of him.

“Thank you, kind of.” You snorted softly.

You fix your skirt while he pulls his jeans back up. You can’t help but notice you managed to yank the neck of his t-shirt horribly out of place somewhere in the midst of your climax. The least you can do is grab him one of the merch shirts. It hits him in the face when you toss it, but that’s at least a few more seconds you have to calm the hell down.

“What’s this?”

“Figured we didn’t want people asking questions. Put it on, I’m sure there’s still some more of Ari’s set left.”

His eyes widened a little and he stared back at the t-shirt before looking back up at you.

“You want me to stay?”

It’s your turn for your eyes to widen and for the ground to become more interesting.

“You don’t have to obviously. You got what you came for. Ari, just puts on a really good show.” You mumbled.

“No I--I’d love to see the show. Haven’t seen her since Coachella.”

He changed quickly out of his t-shirt, sliding on a God Is A Woman shirt instead. The outfit change is a good one in your estimation.

“Great now give me my underwear back.” You murmured resituating your lanyard that got you in everywhere around your neck.

“Oh. Yea, no.”

You looked up at him and there he was leaning against the same part of the couch that he’d rammed you again not ten minutes ago. His long legs crossed in a similar fashion to his arms across his chest. That confidence was just obviously roaring in his system all over again. He was back, just like that.

“Excuse me?” You asked, eyebrow raised and pointed.

“I’m gonna keep them. Kinda want you to think about the fact that you won’t have any panties on all night, and I’ll be the only one who knows. Every time you have to yell at someone to do their job right, every time someone from the crowd bumps into you, it’ll just be you and I who know that you’re my good little girl. So I’m gonna keep them until I’m ready to give them back to you.”

And just what in the fuck does someone do with a speech like that?

“Yea….okay.”

You leave the greenroom behind in the hopes that no one will be able to tell what was done in there that night. Instinctively you reach for his hand and tug him along behind you to get the pits. It’s a sold out show, so there’s definitely a hell of a lot of people there, but you make it work nonetheless. With only the first half of the show missed anyway there’s still plenty of talent left for him to see.

At first you thought that you needed him to see what you were capable of. Ariana was all talent, all vocals, and iconicism, and magic. But, it was you that brought it all together, you who coordinated every little piece to make sure it all ran together without problem. Before you met Shawn, before ever deciding to do the little arrangement he schemed for the both of you, there had been a need to prove yourself. It came with the territory as a woman, let alone as a Black woman in a white male dominated industry.

Something happens in the middle of the show though, when the moon hangs from the ceiling, and her voice is belting out through the whole arena. You peer up at him watching the show, and there’s no ego to be had. It’s not like when other music execs come to visit shows, and they're just looking for a way to upstage you. He’s just there. Enjoying every note and letting the vibe of the crowd fill him in that way that you loved and cherished about live shows. It’s the first time outside of the bedroom that he eases the tension for you, that he gives you a sort of metaphorical pat on the back to say, “you don’t need to stand tall. Put that away for right now.”

You take a deep breath and let your head rest against his shoulder before there’s even room to think about it. Before you lose the moment, before the tension finds a way to ease back into your body, he wraps his arms around your waist from behind. Ariana keeps singing. The crowd keeps screaming. And he doesn’t let up until the lights come back on.

***

“Where are you staying tonight?” You asked, trying to pay attention to the break down of the venue happening around you.

“Wherever you’re staying I guess.”

You peered over at the way that he was leaning against one of the barricades, still dressed in his God Is A Woman shirt, with a smirk upon his lips.

“So fucking cocky, all the time.” You snorted. “I’ve got a lot of work left to do here. I’m always the last to leave from a show.”

“That’s fine. You want me to head up to the hotel, or should I wait behind for you?”

“You’re really staying huh?”

“Told my dad I’m doing research. I think he’s found a new intern to screw, so he’s not really checking in at the moment. I could use a little vacation.” He hummed. “You want me to go?”

You bit your lip and ran your fingers over your waist where his hands had touched. It was dangerous letting him in like this. You knew it. You had to know it.

“No I don’t want you to go.”

He smiled softly. “Guess I’m not going, then.”

“Guess not.”

“Besides if I left?” He murmured stepping forward to cup your hip intimately. “When would you ever get your thong back?”

Bastard.

It’s well past one in the morning before you get to leave. Your feet hurt and you really need a shower and the hotel can’t come fast enough. There’s a car around back waiting for you, and Shawn trails right along side you with his louis vuitton duffle bag that again just reeks of unnecessary indulgence, but you let him have it this time. The soft leather seats of the BMW and the gentle shake of the car is enough to lull you towards sleep. You were the queen of sleeping on cars. Touring life was perfect for you. What you weren’t used to was having someone beside you too as you made yourself comfortable.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” Shawn chuckled.

“I’m just resting my eyes.” you mumbled heading leaning back against the headrest, eyes closed. “Don’t worry, I’ll be plenty well rested for sex later.”

“Yea...Okay.”

*thirty minutes later*

“Honey, wake up.”

“Mmmm...No.”

“No?”

“No. I’m comfy, Ti. Leave me alone.” You whined snuggling deeper into her shoulder.

“As much as I have a feeling Tianna could kick my ass, I don’t think our biceps quite look alike. I am definitely not Ti.”

Your eyes popped open in shock alerting you to the fact that you wrapped your whole fucking body around this man’s arm and he had done nothing to stop you. The gal! The injustice!

“What are you doing? Why did you let me do that?” You gasped detangling yourself from his grasp.

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t ‘let’ you do anything. Your body tends to have a mind of its own. Apparently even in slumber. We’re here though, princess.”

Sure enough the hotel is there staring back at you from the window. You had really fallen asleep. And he had let you.

“Shit. Okay. Let’s go.”

The hotel room is neat and pristine. You won’t be there nearly long enough to do any damage to it. Shawn places his duffle next to yours and starts his routine that he always does at night. His watch comes off. The bracelet. The rings. And it is insane the effect that it has on your body. Your spine straightens. And he turns to look at you over his shoulder, curls extra fluffy without any product in it, and it just runs through your body like a fucking current.

He makes his way over to you and his fingers skim your chin like it’s fine. Like he’s not shirtless in front of you with a six pack and perfect wisps of chest hair. You kind of wanna ask him if the women he sleeps with ever don’t want to get undressed in front of him, but then a yawn leaves your lips and that thought gets left far behind, along with the moment.

He smiled at you softly and tapped your cheek.

“Look you’re exhausted. Why don’t we just wait for the morning. It’s no big deal.”

You wrapped your hand around his wrist to keep him with you.

“It’s fine. I swear.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s really not. Let’s go to bed.”

“Shawn--”

“I said consent at all times didn’t I?” He interrupted. “You’re too tired to consent. We’re not doing it.”

Too tired to consent. That was certainly a new one.

But the way that he settled himself into his side of the bed told you negotiation wasn’t an option. And you were fucking exhausted. So, you crawled beneath the blankets and let your body relax for only the second time that night. How odd for it to be that both of those times were because of Shawn? And what the hell did that mean?

His scent was in your sheets. It was on your skin and in your nose. He was there. This all consuming force that just seemed to fill the space around him infinitely. To the point where you barely felt like you fit in the bed beside him. And yet he sometimes looked so small that you wondered how he could ever fill any space at all. You couldn’t ignore the look on his face in the green room. The exhaustion. The smallness. What was up with that? And why were you thinking of him so damn much anyway?

“You’ve gotta shut your mind down to actually fall asleep.” Shawn mumbled from somewhere in the dark.

You rolled your eyes. “Thank you for mansplaining sleep to me.”

“I’m not--just...Look, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing. What makes you think there’s something on my mind?” You asked defensively.

“I just can hear you fucking thinking from all the other way over here. Why do you have to be so stubborn all the time?”

“I’m not stubborn!”

You had one of those out of body experiences where you actually hear yourself speak, and it subsequently proved his point. Rude.

“It’s genetic.” You murmured softly. “Sorry. I guess I uh I’m just not used to having someone else sleep in bed with me.”

“Well thank you. We fall asleep after fucking most times though?”

“Yes well there’s a difference between being fucked into a coma and just lying beside the person.”

He took a deep breath. “Do you want me to leave? I can just go get another room.”

“No it’s fine! It’s fine. I swear. I’m just...adjusting.”

“Fine. You...adjust, then. I’ll try not to breathe too much and disturb you.”

It was a long night.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

The sun fills the room and it’s a complete and utter nuisance to him. Too early. Too bright. Too not cuddly. So he snuggles his face back into the warmth and ignores it for a little while longer. It’s the most well rested he’s felt in months. So well rested that he doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to be without this warmth that he’s never felt before. And why would he? Why would he ever want to leave this?

He opens his eyes and all that he sees in brown. Cocoa brown with deep red undertones that light up beneath the sunrays. It’s the first time he’s ever woken up before her, her mental clock seeming to always pull her out of bed before his dick is even awake let alone his mind. The fact that she’s asleep is a miracle within itself. The fact that he gets to look at her while she does it feels like maybe a little extra miracle on the side.

There’s a freckle on the divet in the small of her back that he’s never noticed before. Her bonnet to cover her hair is the same color as her nails and there’s a part of him that needs to know if it was a conscious decision or not. Knowing y/n, it could go either way. The covers had slid down her back and he’d wrapped himself around her at some point in the night. And it was somehow the best night sleep he’d had in so long. No sex. No ropes. No lube. Just sleep.

He wasn’t dumb. Something was different. Something had been different from the very beginning. His hooks up didn’t sleep over. He didn’t fly to anyone, ever. Hell, he didn’t even drive to anyone. Uber was practically part of his foreplay in life.  How the fuck did he end up in miami grabing her waist while Ariana Grande scerenaded them by fucking moonlight? He didn’t do this. He didn’t grab hips if he wasn’t fucking. He didn’t tell a woman he’d rather sleep then have sex with them. He needed to end this. And fast.

However . . . she was still asleep. And the sun was still just coming up. So what was really the harm in lying there a little longer? He pressed his arm back over her waist, thumb rubbing smoothly into the skin of her tummy. He’d get up in just a minute, would end it in just a minute. For sure.

*three days later*

“I will be back in less than a week.” She says.

“It will be over in no time.” She says.

“Stop fucking biting my thighs while I’m answering work emails!” She says.

After a break full of rushing her off to different rooms with locks on them in the venues so he could get his head between her thighs, it was finally over. His dad had finally called to ask why the hell his new Director of Talent Management was nowhere to be fucking found. It was time for him to leave, which meant days before he would see her again. Which was fine. Totally fine.

“So hear me out,” He argued as they drove to the final venue, he’d get to see her out. “I just think maybe Tianna should be taking me into account when she’s making your schedule. That’s all.”

She snorted. “I am not going to ask that woman to schedule dick appointments for you.”

“They’re not for just me! I’m thinking of you here too. Had I not taken off from my busy schedule to come to Miami, you might have actually combusted.”

“Women can go longer than twelve hours without sex Shawn. It’s yall who act like the world will explode if somebody doesn’t touch your dick for two seconds.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “I’m just saying it might be nice to know that you’re gonna be gone for weeks on end, ya know?”

She peered over at him from her phone where she’d been working away. She seemed to work harder and longer than anyone he’d ever met. Even more than his dad, which is explained why he couldn’t stand her.

“You could always...hook up with someone else while I’m away.” She said.

Her eyes are curious, watchful. There’s something behind the question that she’s asking, but he doesn’t know that on account of him being stupid. All he knew was that women didn’t just offer up the opportunity to sleep with other people. Even his past hook ups grew easily attached. It was his main reason for never repeating. Who was this woman?

“What makes you think I’m not, already?” He asked trying to match her eye contact.

She bit her lip. “The fact that you’re here right now.”

“Are you...hooking up with other people?”

“What if I was?”

He broke his gaze, not having it in him to keep staring at her. She was definitely stronger than him there.

“Whatever. Wouldn’t matter. ‘Snot like we’re together.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“Yea, exactly.”

The rest of the ride is silent. She was getting dropped off at her venue to continue on with Ariana through the rest of the week. He was heading back for NYC to get back to work. It would be a few more days before she flew back home. But, that was alright. He could wholeheartedly find other things to fill out his day. He didn’t need her at all.

The car pulls up to the arena and she pauses before she exits the car. She looks back at him like she’s waiting for something, like she expects him to say anything else. He doesn’t know what to say, just completely goes blank under her stare. She smiles at him.

“Goodbye, Shawn.”

“Bye, y/n.”

***

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[strawberry-skies-xx]

those blessed days

C H A P T E R     1

summary: Jaskier sits beside him. The soda can echoes as it cracks open. “So what next?”

Geralt looks over at Jaskier - at his dark hair, highlighted by the gold light, at the same light pooling in the dips and curves of his skin like honey. The ache in his chest starts, painful with its intensity. “Don’t know,” he says roughly.

Jaskier frowns. “We have to do something. We’ll run out of money eventually, and we can’t keep living on quick jobs and my parents’ credit card.”

Geralt hums. He doesn’t actually know what they’ll do, but he wants to continue this simple existence with Jaskier. Driving anywhere they want, spending a week in town and working, coming back to the hotel after their shifts and falling into the same bed together. Waking up with Jaskier’s warmth against him.

words: 8344

tags: major character death, geralt / jaskier, implied/referenced sex, implied/referenced self-harm, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, modern AU, implied/referenced child abuse, terminal illnesses

author’s note: lyrics in this story are from So It Goes by Robert Hallow and the Holy Men. 

main masterlist | story on ao3 | next chapter >>

34 days after

“Maybe we could go see the band playing a few states over,” Jaskier says, the idle notes of his guitar ringing through the room. He leans against the headboard of the hotel’s cheap bed, chipped wooden guitar resting on his lap.

Geralt watches him. He’s gotten better at relaxing, but Geralt still sees the line of tension in his shoulders, the subconscious way Jaskier’s eyes dart towards him occasionally. Old habits die hard, especially ones like Jaskier has made, in bruises and harsh words thrown at him by the two people who were supposed to have his back for the first years of his life.

Geralt still remembers it - his phone beeped the ringtone for a call at three in the morning. Jaskier’s frantic, panicked voice came from the other end - Geralt, I’m at the South Street bus station and they’re texting me, I don’t know what to do, they can’t find me, please don’t let them take me back - and Geralt’s headlights illuminated the too-skinny form of Jaskier standing alone in a dark bus stop half an hour later, one backpack hanging from his back and his eyes wide in the dark. The rest of the night was driving - driving away from Jaskier’s parents, away from their town, away from everything they’d ever known and didn’t want to know, while Jaskier stared at his phone screen as new messages came in and waited through the ringing of phone calls, trembling.

That was the first night they slept in the same bed, in a cheap hotel where Geralt’s strong arms wrapped around a shaking Jaskier as he broke down, tears staining the sheets and Geralt’s shirt. And in the morning, they didn’t talk about it, but they continued driving, and if Geralt occasionally woke up to find Jaskier shaking through a nightmare, and if he happened to hold him curled up against his body through the rest of the night, well. No one needed to know.

Geralt had lost count of how many cheap hotels and dirty motels they stayed at, lost count of how many times they stayed for a few weeks at a job and then left, nameless and friendless. They lived as ghosts in society, invisible and barely surviving, and it was only a matter of time before they were forced to rebuild themselves and create their new life from the shattered pieces of the old.

For now, Geralt was content to continue this existence with Jaskier.

“Should be a singer,” Geralt says. Jaskier’s eyes dart to him too fast, scan down his body too quickly. Geralt makes himself smaller, less threatening, like he’s been doing since he was sixteen and met Jaskier after the high school talent show.

“Are you admitting you pay attention to my music?” he asks, and Geralt can hear the smile in his voice, even if he isn’t looking at him.

He hums noncommittally and leans back in the cheap wooden chair, hearing it creak dangerously beneath his weight, studiously not meeting Jaskier’s eyes. Jaskier’s smile widens and he sits up, one arm bracing his guitar against his lap while the other points at Geralt.

“You do pay attention! I knew it!” Jaskier says brightly, triumphantly. Geralt looks up and meets his blue eyes that are alight with joy, feels his own warmth well up in his chest. Jaskier leans back again, glances down at his guitar and plucks a few notes, a smug, confident air about him at this revelation. Geralt looks down at his hands again where they sit in his lap.

“Kinda hard not to,” he says quietly. Watches Jaskier’s smile fade for just a moment before it quirks up again and Jaskier looks up to meet Geralt’s golden eyes.

“Still knew you paid attention.”

Geralt’s quick glance down hides his small smile.

2834 days before

“Where are you from?”

Geralt rolls over on his side of the bed to face Jaskier, whose blue eyes are lit by the moonlight and looking at Geralt curiously. He glances down, studies the pattern on the sheets. Sighs, puts his explanation together, and answers.

“I was adopted,” he rumbles. Jaskier shifts and keeps his attention focused raptly on Geralt. “Me and two other boys were adopted. Different times, but we’re brothers now. Or as close to it.”

Jaskier‘s voice is quiet in the dark. “You’re lucky. Having family that cares about you.”

Geralt thinks about wrestling with Eskel and Lambert in the old house. Thinks about Vesemir’s deep voice breaking up the fights. Compares it to the luxury of Jaskier’s family mansion, the soaring ceilings and grand staircases. The harsh words bouncing off of gilded walls and the sting of blows on bruised skin.

He hums softly and Jaskier’s eyes fall closed.

37 days after

Geralt looks over at Jaskier beside him, whose pale skin has silver moonlight dripping from the dips and curves like liquid, face peaceful and soft brown hair fanned out across the pillow. He wants to touch, desperately. Wants to run his calloused fingers over smooth, creamy skin, watch it indent beneath his hands and blood rush to the spot where he presses.

Geralt makes a soft noise and turns away, rolling over. It’s colder here, staring at the dull gray wall, with the warmth of Jaskier behind him, and he picks up his phone from the nightstand. He doesn’t think about how the surface of his phone case is rough, not smooth, and the bright glow of his phone screen is harsh compared to the soft pool of silver moonlight on skin.

There’s no new messages, and Geralt sighs, flipping the phone over and setting it on the nightstand as quietly as possible. He rolls to his back, doesn’t think about how in the morning, the ache in his chest will start again, and the world will try to shove them apart. He shouldn’t think of touching his best friend in the way that makes him pant beneath him, shouldn’t think of tasting his best friend in the way that leaves him breathless and flushed. It’s wrong, he tells himself.

Geralt doesn’t think about it, shouldn’t think about it, and he spends the night staring at the smooth gray paint on the ceiling.

2826 days before

“My family is the Pankratz, but we own the Lettenhove estate,” Jaskier explains, fingers toying with the pencil in his hand. Geralt hums. “It’s a really old house, but of course we had to buy it and restore it, because we absolutely needed a mansion with fifteen more rooms than we actually use.”

There’s a sarcastic bite to his voice. He falls silent, spins the pencil. Geralt’s golden eyes track the movement.

“My house used to be a boarding school. Kaer Morhen. Sold in 1953,” he says. Jaskier looks up at him, the pencil stilling in his fingers. Geralt doesn’t look at him, but there’s something playful teasing at his voice when he speaks next. “For the record, we have twenty more rooms than we actually use.”

Jaskier grins and laughs, bright and clear, and Geralt thinks he wants to bottle the sound and carry it with him.

46 days after

They drive two states over to see the band - Geralt can’t remember the name, but Jaskier spends the drive singing and playing their songs on his guitar in the front passenger seat. They spend their money on gas, on cheap hotels, on fast food, and sit in the back of Geralt’s truck, eating and talking before starting out on the road again.

“What a surprise, my siren’s sleeping in, and all joy and drunken rituals, without a wink to horror or to sin,” Jaskier sings, voice filling the quiet car and fingers plucking at guitar strings - somehow, Jaskier had adapted the band’s song, played on piano, for guitar. Geralt leans back against the seat, feels tension bleed from his shoulders, lets Jaskier’s voice wash over him like it did the first time he sang, on a stage with light shining over him in an old high school.

“Nice music,” he says. Jaskier stops and looks over at him.

“Is this a new thing, you complimenting my singing?” he asks, almost accusatory. “Because if so, you could’ve done it a long time ago, Geralt.” He points a finger at him, which, yeah, that’s definitely accusatory. “No more telling me to shut up. You’ve confessed that you like my singing, now I don’t have to listen to you when you say be quiet.”

Geralt’s lips quirk up. “You never listen to me anyway.”

Jaskier focuses back on his guitar strings, starting up the tune of the band’s song again. “That’s not the point.”

1034 days before

Vesemir didn’t allow for visitors usually, but his eyes scan over Jaskier, catching on the yellow-green fading from his skin, and he doesn’t say anything. Geralt nods at Vesemir in thanks as he passes, tries not to focus on the way Jaskier is tense and quiet beside him. It’s unsettling, the silence.

Eskel and Lambert are in their rooms; Geralt told them that Jaskier was coming by this afternoon and, in no uncertain terms, told them that they were not to scare him. Jaskier liked to pretend he was strong - and he was, really, but Geralt could see that he was still hurting. He’d been worn down by the years, until even his strength wasn’t enough to stop the flinches from movements that were too fast, and the way he curled in on himself until he melted into the shadows better than either Geralt or his brothers could.

There was a bright side to Jaskier, though, a side that was colorful and loud and unafraid. It didn’t come out often, but when it did, Jaskier positively glowed with the joy, looking more comfortable in his own skin than he ever did usually. Geralt loved it when that side came out, did his best to make Jaskier relaxed enough to let it out.

“Where are your brothers?” Jaskier asks, blue eyes darting around, assessing every threat. His arms wrap around himself. Geralt doesn’t like how small Jaskier looks like this, how quiet and unassuming.

“They’re in here,” Geralt replies, turns to lead them through to Eskel’s room first.

54 days after

They keep driving. Jaskier looks up directions to the venue the band is playing at, and Geralt follows them to a small parking lot outside a club. The sun is setting, bathing everything in gold and lighting the sky with reds and pinks as they get out of the car.

“Do you think they’d let me play with them?” Jaskier asks.

“Wouldn’t make any money,” Geralt replies, deadpan, listens to Jaskier’s dramatically offended gasp, feels the sting as he smacks his arm. His lips curl up the smallest bit.

“You’re terrible, Geralt! Honestly. I’m so unappreciated.”

Geralt hides his discomfort at that statement, because it may be said in jest, but it serves as a harsh reminder to him of what Jaskier suffered through at the hands - and voices - of his parents. He doesn’t ruin the moment, though, and stays silent, swings the door to the venue open and allows Jaskier through first.

The band is on stage already, setting up; the place is moderately filled with people sitting at tables, lounging at the bar, talking and slamming drinks down. Geralt braces himself against the noise, follows Jaskier as he finds a booth and slides in across from Geralt.

They go through their routine that they’ve had since Geralt was eighteen and had a panic attack because it was too loud. Jaskier’s foot catches against his ankle, pulls it across the floor beneath the table, all while his eyes stay focused on the menu. Geralt taps once against his ankle - I can manage - and Jaskier taps three times - let me know if it’s too much - before retreating.

Geralt picks up his menu.

962 days before

“Geralt!”

Golden eyes look up from his book to see Jaskier running towards him, phone held in his hand and earbuds held in another. He slides smoothly into a sitting position next to Geralt, offering one of the earbuds. “Come on, take this.”

“Why?” Geralt asks, skeptical. Last time he accepted an earbud from Jaskier, the damned man played heavy metal in his ears at full volume. He’s not willing to repeat that mistake again.

“I promise you, it’s not heavy metal. I found a new band I absolutely love, I want you to listen to them.”

Something about the excited sincerity in Jaskier’s wide blue eyes prompts Geralt to get over his suspicion and accept the earbud, fitting it into his ear and waiting for the resulting burst of noise.

Except, it rises gradually, and the singing isn’t at all overwhelming - more soothing.

“ Lay me down my friend for so it goes, see the waning of a grace I’ve never known, ” sings the man, in a smooth, soothing voice, and it takes Geralt a full verse for him to realize Jaskier is singing along with it.

The song suddenly stops; Geralt opens his eyes, not realizing they were closed, and looks at Jaskier. His blue eyes are questioning.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” he says roughly, pulled suddenly from the entranced state the music had put him in. “It’s good. Keep going.”

Jaskier grins. “Someday I’ll tell you about all the layers, after I pick it apart in my music program of course. But the lyrics, Geralt, they’re amazing! The things I could write about their lyrics…” He trails off, presses play on the music and sings along when it starts.

Geralt closes his book (it was for an assignment anyway, wasn’t all that interesting either), leans back against the tree, lets his eyes slip closed and the man’s voice and the band’s music wash over him.

“ Know that you will always find a home in me, so no sorrow, no. I cannot wait to see you... ”

54 days after

Three hours later, and the band is finishing their last song, Jaskier his fourth glass of wine. Geralt watches him flirt with a blonde sitting at the bar, trading tipsy smiles and probably making a fool of himself more than actually scoring a night.

Jaskier sways over to their booth, throwing a last flirtatious wink over his shoulder that isn’t returned, before he turns back and slides ungracefully into the booth. Geralt finds himself with a lapful of drunk musician, long fingers curling around his thigh, the scent of cedar and lemongrass assaulting his senses, and pale, smooth skin close enough to touch.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says, too slowly. Geralt slides his arm around his waist, pulls Jaskier forward before his head hits back against the wood wall, and patiently waits for him to continue.

“Did you like the band?” Jaskier asks finally, looking as if he needed to think of how to put those words together before actually saying them out loud.

Geralt hums noncommittally and receives a slap on the shoulder in return. “Don’t be so - so you!” Jaskier says, almost too loudly. “You should… talk every once in a while. That would help you. Make for better communication anyway,” he adds, lower.

“My communication is fine,” Geralt protests, tightening his grip on Jaskier’s waist when he tilts dangerously forward. He doesn’t think about how close he is, doesn’t think about Jaskier at all.

Jaskier laughs. “Your communication is absolute shit,” he says, grinning. “You refused to call me your friend for years because you thought I was only tolerating you. And failed to ever mention that small fact, despite the many times I asked.”

Geralt frowns. “You only asked twice.”

Jaskier’s brow furrows in thought for all of a second before he waves his hand vaguely and leans against Geralt, head resting against his shoulder and face nearly buried in the crook of his neck. “Doesn’t matter anyway,” he says, warm breath fanning over Geralt’s skin.

The ache in Geralt’s chest starts again.

“You’re my best friend now,” Jaskier says, nearly a whisper, and then, a breath that smells like wine, “but wish you were more.”

His heartbeat and breathing even out and he sags against Geralt.

Geralt hears the breathed words, picks up Jaskier, picks up his expectations, leaves some money and his hopes on the table, and exits the bar.

473 days before

“I’m writing a story,” Jaskier says. Geralt sits on the ground next to him, leans against the tree. “Takes place on somewhere called the Continent.”

Geralt hums. “Couldn’t think of a name?”

Jaskier shrugs. “No, but it sounds cool, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t reply, doesn’t need to. Jaskier continues anyway.

“There are monsters, and they’re hunted by Witchers. They’re mutated men, made at a castle called Kaer Morhen, like the school your house used to be. I wasn’t sure if I should’ve named them different, but I decided to just name them after you and your family. You’d make a good Witcher.”

Geralt closes his eyes, lets the sun shine on him and Jaskier’s voice wash over him as he listens to his story.

55 days after

Jaskier wakes up somewhere between one state and the next. He groans, hands going to his head. Geralt picks up the bottle of aspirin and hands it to him wordlessly, tries not to think about the electricity shocking through him at the curl of Jaskier’s fingers around his as he takes the bottle, picks up his water, and downs the painkiller.

“Better?” Geralt asks once Jaskier screws the bottle shut and slides it back in the glovebox.

“Not sure. May still throw up.”

Geralt grunts and frowns. “Not in here.”

Jaskier groans again and presses the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Can’t be sure about that. Could happen anytime.” He sends a teasing grin at Geralt. “Besides, this car could use some color anyway.”

“Not green.”

Jaskier tilts his head, and Geralt nearly sighs when he can practically sense the mischief light in his blue eyes. “Now there’s an idea. I can paint the entire car lime green! We’d be practically glowing in the night.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “I can paint your guitar lime green,” he says dryly. “It would be practically glowing in dark clubs.”

Jaskier gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart, hangover momentarily forgotten. “You wouldn’t dare!”

Geralt’s lips quirk up. “You wouldn’t dare paint my car.”

Jaskier grumbles and faces forward again, reluctantly conceding defeat to this argument. “Terrible man. I can’t win against you.”

Geralt tilts his head to Jaskier, amusement coloring his voice. “It’s entertaining when you try.”

“You’re an evil man, Geralt.”

432 days before

“Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier’s footsteps crunch on the dead autumn leaves coating the ground as he walks up to Geralt sitting, leaning against their tree and takes his place next to him. He puts a piece of lined notebook paper on top of Geralt’s book, scrawled with familiar black pen.

“What are these?” Jaskier asks, voice holding a strange note, fingers pointing to Geralt’s small, idle doodles in the margin of the page.

He flushes slightly red - he does pay attention in class, he does, but sometimes (most of the time) the curriculum was boring and Geralt found himself drawing to pass the time, taking notes still but decorating the page with his doodles. He hid them from everyone, but… he gave this page to Jaskier fast and without looking, it was the only time Jaskier had ever asked him for notes and he didn’t want to deny him.

And apparently he had drawn on the damn thing.

“Doodles,” he says, clipped.

Jaskier is silent for a long pause. Geralt looks over at him, slightly concerned -

And finds he’s smiling, blue eyes alight with something soft, almost like he’s… endeared by Geralt?

No, that can’t be true. Geralt never should’ve given him the notes in the first place - everyone looked for the first possible flaw in him and he shouldn’t have thought Jaskier would be any different.

He pulls the paper away from his book, away from Jaskier, and tugs his bag roughly over to him. “Don’t mock me.”

Jaskier laughs and Geralt resists a low growl. “Geralt, I’m not mocking you. That’s- fuck, that’s adorable. What are the doodles of? They look like monsters.”

Geralt grits his teeth, tells himself he won’t respond. “For your Witcher stories.”

Jaskier gasps, grin growing impossibly wider and the expression in his eyes impossibly softer.

“You’re doodling monsters for my stories on your algebra notes?” Jaskier says, incredulous, yet strangely not judgmental. No, he’s still grinning, blue eyes still soft and- Geralt doesn’t want to think about that.

“Tell me about them,” he asks, pleads when Geralt sighs. “Come on, you want them to be for my stories right? Can’t use them if I don’t know about them.”

Another long sigh, a look that is absolutely not fond at all, and Geralt pulls the paper back out.

“The first is a kikimora…”

59 days after

They drive for three more days, crossing the next state line into Kentucky. Jaskier writes a song in that time, something about a bard and a Witcher. Geralt remembers that story, remembers the weeks spent after that first afternoon listening to Jaskier talk about it, reading the short stories he wrote. He wasn’t sure if he’d want to be a Witcher in that story, but Jaskier said most of the boys didn’t get a choice, and the Geralt of Rivia in his stories didn’t dream of being anything else.

Geralt found himself particularly endeared to the bard Jaskier in his stories too. He certainly got the constant talking part spot-on - Geralt wondered if the fictional version of him was as comfortable with the constant chatter as the real life version of him was.

“When a humble bard-“

Geralt scoffs. “That’s not accurate.”

“What’s not accurate?” Jaskier asks.

“Humble.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes, finger pointing accusingly at him. “First off, Geralt, it doesn’t have to be accurate, and second off, I am very much humble!”

Geralt lets himself give a small, dry smirk. “If you say so. You’re the storyteller.”

“Yeah, I am the storyteller,” Jaskier says defensively, then, gives his own private smile when Geralt glances over, voice teasing, “but you’re right, I am not and never will be humble.”

Jaskier’s smile widens to a bright grin as Geralt gives a low, rumbling laugh and returns his gaze to the road, Jaskier’s strumming and singing starting up and filling the car again.

322 days before

Jaskier’s blue eyes are dark, filled with sadness as he focuses down on his lap. “They started fighting again,” he says quietly. “I was in the way, and my mother came over to me. Said the usual - I wouldn’t get anywhere in life, I’m a disgrace to the family, I’m a shit musician. Which, I’m not,” he adds, but he’s not into it and he sounds more like he’s convincing himself. “I think it’ll bruise.”

Geralt shreds the leaf in his hand with his fingers, letting the dead, brown pieces fall to the grass. “You’ll get somewhere in life,” he says, voice nearly a whisper. “You’ll be something great.”

Jaskier looks up at him. Geralt doesn’t meet his eyes. “You will, too,” he says earnestly. “Wherever you go, I will go. Whether I give up being something great or not. I’m not leaving you.”

Geralt thinks of the way the other students look at him. He’s smart, sure, but he’s callous, too quiet, too abrasive. They don’t want him there, don’t want his bulk taking up space when they can get someone friendlier, someone smaller and prettier and better.

“I don’t know.”

68 days after

Jaskier leans back against the seat, fingers tapping a rhythm against the wood of his guitar. He looks out the window at the sun, close to setting on the horizon, and the empty, grassy fields passing by them.

“We should stop,” he says.

Geralt raises an eyebrow, a thread of concern climbing up into his chest. “Why?”

“To see the sunset.”

Geralt frowns, but he supposes they don’t have anything else to do. They’re not in a rush - they’re four states away from Jaskier’s parents. Jaskier is a poet, too, so Geralt thinks that if he wants inspiration from the sunset for his next song, or poem, then he can’t really deny him.

“Okay,” he says simply.

Jaskier looks over at him, blue eyes widening in surprise. “Did you just- agree with me? Just like that? You never stop to watch the sunset with me.” He narrows his eyes. “Are you sick? A robot? Imposter?”

Geralt sighs, swings his truck off the road and into the field. “I’m not sick, not a robot, and not an imposter. And I did stop to watch the sunset with you once,” he says, cutting the engine. “Come on.”

Jaskier still looks suspicious, but he follows Geralt out of the car and around to the back. Geralt opens the truck bed and pulls the cooler over to him, handing Jaskier a can of soda and taking one for himself before sliding the cooler back against the car. He jumps up onto the truck bed, pushing himself back so he can lean against the back of the car.

Jaskier sits beside him. The soda can echoes as it cracks open. “So what next?”

Geralt looks over at Jaskier - at his dark hair, highlighted by the gold light, at the same light pooling in the dips and curves of his skin like honey. The ache in his chest starts, painful with its intensity. “Don’t know,” he says roughly.

Jaskier frowns. “We have to do something. We’ll run out of money eventually, and we can’t keep living on quick jobs and my parents’ credit card.”

Geralt hums. He doesn’t actually know what they’ll do, but he wants to continue this simple existence with Jaskier. Driving anywhere they want, spending a week in town and working, coming back to the hotel after their shifts and falling into the same bed together. Waking up with Jaskier’s warmth against him.

“We could head to the coast,” Jaskier says quietly, a few moments later. “Rebuild our lives. Become something.”

Geralt doesn’t respond. He keeps his eyes on the burning reds and golds of the sunset, quickly fading into dark, midnight blue as the moon rises. Jaskier doesn’t continue, and they sit in a comfortable silence as the stars slowly blink into existence against the dark velvet of the night sky.

Geralt doesn’t notice Jaskier has fallen asleep until his head lands on his shoulder, eyes closed and chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He slides his arm behind Jaskier and around his waist, pulls him closer and listens to the soft noise Jaskier gives as he shifts and curls into Geralt, warm breath blowing over Geralt’s neck.

Geralt’s chest aches. He carries Jaskier into the back of the car and lays with him on the seat, sinks into sleep with him curled up in his arms, face buried in Geralt’s black hoodie.

217 days before

“You like to watch the sunset?” Geralt asks, walking up behind Jaskier and taking the place next to him in the grass.

“It’s poetic, isn’t it?” Jaskier replies. “Sunsets are beautiful - all the fiery reds and golds and pinks. It’s the death of light and the birth of night.” His voice is soft, thoughtful. “The sun doesn’t go without a fight, though. It makes sure to set the whole sky on fire and dip the world in gold honey first.”

Geralt hums. “Or, Earth is rotating and we simply don’t see the sun’s light anymore,” he says bluntly.

Jaskier makes a doubtful sound and tilts his head. “I like my version better, thank you very much.”

Geralt isn’t looking at the sunset, though; he looks at Jaskier. He thinks Jaskier doesn’t need the setting sun for him to be alight with fire, or be dipped in gold.

next chapter >>

[fluorescentpipedream]

Been learning some things about Dayton the last few days 

It’s a little long so I don’t want to clog up anyone’s feeds

Details:

Age: 43

Family: 

Parents - Abigail and Ethan Foster. Sibling: Charlotte,Lottie (25)

His parents are still alive though they don’t really acknowledge him much.

His little sister, Lottie, comes to visit him sometimes. She makes jewelry out of recycled materials and gave her brother an earring she made of a broken beer bottle, repurposed as a diamond. He wears it on the right side, though when asked why he only has one, he says “she knows I’ll lose the other one, so this way it’s more special” 

He has said he’s a little jealous of his younger sister because “she gets to be normal, and our parents hate that there’s nothing of hers that can capitalize on. Her jewelry business is a fun thing to put her through college, they can’t steal her fortunes and lie to her that it’s in her best interest. I’m envious of her because of her normalcy. How stupid is that?”

Relationships:

Dayton was married when he had his seizure, his husband divorced him shortly after the incident, not being willing to take care of him. 

He’s had a few girlfriends but he seems to prefer the company of men

About:

Dayton is highly dependent on drugs and/or alcohol to get by on the outside world because he just can’t seem to function without them when he’s trying to live on his own. He’s lived at the Center in the French Quarter off and on for 4 years, before that taking a stint in jail for public urination and intoxication. He also spit on the arresting officer. Writing about the incident later by saying “he finds it odd that Mardi Gras is legal public drunkenness for the amusement of all but only a few days after, in the stench of Bourbon Street’s parties where trickles of human depravity are being washed from the street, suddenly it’s deplorable and must be cleansed from sight. Though they might have gone easier on me if I hadn’t spit in the cop’s face. Oh well.”

Dayton’s initial slip into this strange state was after a seizure caused by his excessive drinking. The world was easier to handle if he was drunk or high all the time, he didn’t feel like he had to be as smart as he is, when he was riding a drug high. He collapsed at a Mensa event when he was 32, and during the grand mal seizure caused brain damage and for his IQ to slip from the 200s and down into a more average number. He still seems to be very intelligent, though he doesn’t really draw attention to it anymore. After his husband left him, he had apparently only shrugged, taking his ring off and handed it to his little sister, telling her “unconditional love is a joke”

The relationship with his parents finally came to light as well, and he outright told the first social worker when they had suggested he could recover in his parent’s care that they wouldn’t actually care for him anymore. Their free ride now had strings attached and he doubted that they could stand to care for him, since he was pushed to always provide for himself, since he was “smart enough”

He has the potential to live on his own, he just doesn’t have much of a drive to do so. When he’s left on his own he gets distracted and forgets to do even the most basic tasks. He means he forgets to eat, sleep, etc. At the Center, “I’m safe from myself”

Personality:

Self-loathing and tends to put himself down a lot

Suicidal although Lottie seems to be the only reason he won’t go through with killing himself, he loves her too much to leave her with that stigma of “genius brother takes his own life following years of drug and alcohol abuse

A very dark and, at times, unsettling sense of humor. It makes people uncomfortable and his general disinterest in people’s reactions make it worse

“Former” sex addict...he puts it in quotes. As long as he’s not drinking or using drugs he tends to abstain from dangerous sexual liaisons but once he’s under the influence it’s whatever, with whoever and however they choose. “I’m surprised I’m not infected yet”

He’s been with both men and woman and has no preference towards either. “It would be nice to have someone love me...I’m not in a position where I could be the one providing care to another, sadly dealing with me may be a full time job and not one most people are equipped for. I won’t “get better” over time, and crave companionship sometimes even over the obsessive desire to fade from this world”

Interests:

Serial killers. He absently makes profiles for those he reads about or watches reports on TV. He frequents websites that have details on true crime and likes to try to figure out cold cases, for fun. He’s actually figured out several, calling in anonymous tips to hotlines.

-Seriously- considering typing up his profile for the serial killer in San Francisco (Paul) and sending it to Theo deWinter, the agent on the case. He’d learned about the case online and after reading what he could find about the murders and the way the bodies are discovered, he really does want to help. He is concerned they wouldn’t take much consideration in the profile though because of his current mental state. It might hurt his credibility. Still, he says “better not eat anything you buy from Rascal Butcher shop on Main” 

Piano, originally it was something he was forced into learning but now that he’s older he enjoys it quite a bit more. He sometimes sits in the grand entrance of the Center and plays on nice days

Writing. Kind of like a cross between Dean Koontz and Stephen King with some Lovecraft like monsters in there. He posts some of his shorter pieces on his blog

Has a tumblr blog called A Damaged Beautiful Mind. Most of the time he answers questions but a few years ago he wrote a rather long post about the inability for criminals, drug addicts and generally anyone who has been arrested to vote in national elections explains a lot about how the entire system is set up so only the elite are allowed to partake (excerpt at the end)

He loves watching psychological thrillers, horror movies and true crime documentaries

He used to want to be a federal profiler and even has degrees in forensic psychology and criminal law

Connections:

Arthur Powell sometimes invites him over for dinner in his room at the center.

He told Arthur he really liked his sister, Frankie once, promising it was “nothing creepy” he just thought she had a beautiful soul and her amazing talent was going to take her places. Arthur has her make him a mirror glaze birthday cake this year that was too beautiful to eat (he did though, only when Lottie came to spend the day with him and she cut into it after taking a picture of it with his phone.)

One of the orderlies brings him coffee and beignets on Saturdays and they talk. Dayton generally believes they’re just checking up on him to make sure he’s had a shower or eaten something recently.

Doctor Snow is his therapist, though lately he feels like he has to search for things to discuss with her. She’s expecting her first child, so the visits are brief and involves how he’s feeling, if he’s still having suicidal thoughts...etc.

He used to be a bit of a lech, being Mike Tomlin’s first foray into gay sex, pinning him to a wall at the Mensa event, the same night as his seizure.

Excerpt from his latest blog entry about election and voting rights, or rather the lack thereof

Any system which segregates the unmentionables and undesirables from the view of the rest only perpetuates the degeneration we’ve been seeing as a whole in this nation. It’s “progress” that the United States lived in a seemingly “Golden Age” under Barack Obama, but if one were to pull back the veil they need only skim the surface to realize, that was a moment of lapse, before the true waves of deceit, corruption and greed rushed back in again.

The years that Obama served in the White House only appear now as the receding of water before the inevitable tsunami. As a nation, we will always boil back down to the nagging truth of George Orwell in Animal Farm; “all animals are created equal, but some are more equal than others” Those that are detestable, or deemed unworthy by social standards, like any number of the “criminals” locked away for crimes enumeration, have been stripped of their ability to stand up for their beliefs.

Their voices are silenced, because by daring to stand against the societal norm, to lash out at the Thomas Moore, Utopian falsehood of America, they proclaimed loudly that the world is not only unfair, but stacked against us from the moment we take our first breaths. Were the US to return rights to the seemingly uneducated, drains on society, they would see real change. But that, in the essence of the truly corrupt leading the imbecilic masses, will never be the case. These commanding forces, like Nero the pig, would rather lead the masses into decisions that have been made for them all the while claiming that it is the people who lead themselves to this. And he can fix it all.

[nerdygaymormon]

Maybe you've answered this before, but why don't you just leave your church? Doesn't it bother you being part of something that rejects you? Don't you want love? I don't understand why gay people ever stay in that church.

I get these questions from time to time. Never sure what to make of them. I get that it’s unusual for a gay guy my age to still be part of church. I hope part of this is they like me and want me to be happier. But it also feels like they are looking down on me, idk.

I don’t have a short, simple answer, so strap in, it’s going to be a long ride.

1)   I was a teenager in the 1980’s. It is hard to be gay now, but it was so bad back then. Being gay was shameful. The 80′s was the AIDS crisis, so mostly what I heard about being gay was death. There were no legal protections, society was against us. Actively hostile, bigoted statements were common. My own dad told homophobic jokes to big laughs. Coming out looked like I’d be condemning myself to a terrible life and strip all the good things from me.

Also, with no role models, I was having to work through what it means to be gay. I also did manage to get ahold of a gay porn magazine (this is long before internet was a thing). I was crazy to think I could hide it. I shared a room with three brothers so no privacy. Despite my denials, my parents knew this was mine and they were so upset. My dad now tells me he wishes he sent me to conversion therapy once he learned I had this magazine. Can you imagine?

2)   I grew up believing in this church, which included the terrible things taught about me as a gay person. At age 19 when my bishop challenged me to pray about going on a mission, I instead prayed to know if God could possibly love me (which is really sad that a kid could grow up in church and not know that). I felt love radiate across my body as a voice in my ear said “You are not broken.” That experience sustained me for a long time

3)   I went on a mission in the 1990’s. If you haven’t been on a mission, it’s probably a surprise that it can be a relief. There’s no pressure to date. I could form close bonds with other men, and even though these are non-romantic relationships, they are intensely close.

4)   I was still in the closet when I went to the church schools in Rexburg & Provo. At the end of my first semester, my roommate came on to me and let me feel him up and stuff. I went to sleep thinking maybe the two of us could leave the church, transfer to a different school, say goodbye to my family and we could have a life together. It would be a huge sacrifice for both of us and I thought he felt the same, but the next morning he turned me in to our bishop. I thought I was going to get kicked out of school, be sent home in disgrace, maybe disciplined out of the church, but instead I was put on probation and had to stay the summer in Rexburg. I was heartbroken and swore off love and focused on school. At the end of the summer, to my surprise the bishop made me the elders quorum president.  

That first roommate, we were best friends. He is Bi and decided a life with a woman would be easier, and considering it was the 1990′s, he was correct. He left school a few days later, met a woman and got married. I hate how he ended things, but I don’t blame him for the future he chose for his life.

5)   BYU in Provo was my backup school, and reluctantly it’s where I transferred to. It turned out that I genuinely liked BYU with 2 exceptions, the severe restrictions the Honor Code placed on LGBT students (which was the same as at the Rexburg campus), and the fierceness with which the Honor Code Office sought to enforce those restrictions. Occasionally I’d hear rumors of sting operations they had done to catch gay students. There was this low-level fear always of getting caught whilst a student in Provo. My roommates also expressed their dislike of anything remotely gay. Even though I kept the rules, I didn’t dare tell anyone that I’m gay because the potential cost was high.

While at BYU I had a major faith crisis. I no longer believed a lot of the truth claims of the church, but I wasn’t about to lose all that tuition money. I stuck it out. So not only was I pretending to be straight, I also had to act as though nothing about church bothered me.

6)   The same voice that told me I am not broken would occasionally tell me that it’s okay to pursue relationships. It gave me great hope. I still get that message. Being a good Mormon, I thought this meant that somehow God was going to change the church. In the temple I’d hear that it’s not good for man to be alone and the law of chastity was presented in a way that could include me if I was married to a husband (the temple says no sex except “with your husband or wife to whom you’re legally and lawfully wedded”).

7)   After BYU, I should have come out and gotten on with life, but I didn’t. My first job was working for a Mormon boss. A landlord who is LDS gave me a deal on rent. Coming out seemed like it would disrupt my life in really negative ways. Plus YSA Wards were a source of friends and support network.

8)   In my 30’s I was no longer in YSA wards, and the world was getting better for gay people. The fight for gay marriage was in full swing, and so many of the people in my life were very opposed to it. It bothered me that the church was so opposed and fought gay marriage because in my head, it was a way for me to follow God’s promptings and pursue a relationship.

Being a Mormon is very much an identity. It’s hard to peel off. It’s my social network, it’s what much of family life revolves around, It’s a belief system and way of viewing the world. it’s a map of what one’s goals in life should be, and so on. Staying in the closet kept the rest of my world intact.

I know you’re thinking wtf, you’re a grown man, own your life!!! I grew up in an unstable family situation (we had many financial troubles and moved frequently), so I crave stability. Remaining in the closet and in the church were keys to maintaining that stability.

9)   Squashing all my romantic and sexual feelings also shuts down most other feelings. I spent most of my 20’s & 30’s feeling numb, like I was watching life but not a part of it. I spent those years wishing I was dead, that a bus would hit me or a major disease would strike. Those kinds of deaths would end my misery and also be okay for my family because they wouldn’t have to know I’m gay. I recognize now how messed up that is.

10)   The great source of happiness in those years was being an uncle. I’m the oldest of 7 children, my siblings had lots of babies born in those years. The joys of being an uncle only increased the pressure to stay in the closet and in the church because if I didn’t, my only source of happiness might be taken away.

11)   I finally reached the point where I was tired of going through the motions of having a life. I was ready to come out. Rather than make some grand announcement, I decided to be honest with anyone who asked about my life. When someone tried to set me up with their friend, I would ask if she had a brother. As these sorts of situations came up, I was coming out to people one by one.

I didn’t exactly “come out” to my family. I figured since my parents had found the gay porn mag when I was a teen, and then gay porn malware on the computer when I was college student, they probably already knew (and they did, but were in denial). Also, I thought coming out would be saying I’m not trustworthy and an awful person for having pretended to be something I wasn’t for so long (not true, but that’s how I thought of it).

12)   I’m such a late bloomer that I sometimes am embarrassed about it, especially now that so many people come out in their 20′s and even as teenagers. At the first Pride parade I attended, someone told me that we all come out when it’s right for us, and this was my time. I think that’s true.

13)   Most of my adult life in church was being pianist in Primary. Shortly after I started telling people I’m gay is when I was called to be in the stake young men presidency. My stake president says he looked over at me playing piano one day and thought, “that man has much more to offer.” I wonder if it’s because I was more confident, my identities were less in conflict than they’d been in the past, I wasn’t afraid and hiding.

As stake young men president, I made sure I knew by name and something about every youth in the stake. I wanted them to know they were seen, they were heard, they were loved. Teens go through such hard things and I wanted to be a kind, supportive person in their life. Most youth don’t know who the stake youth leaders are, but they all knew me. Several told me about hard things in their life and some even came out to me. Parents of gay teens would come speak to me and I’d let them know life in church is hard and unfair, ways they could help support their teen, and prepared them that their child’s likely path would be out of the church. I felt like I bloomed in this calling and made a difference.

14)   In 2015 marriage became legal for same-sex couples across the USA due to a Supreme Court ruling. I thought that finally the church would have to come to terms with it and accept it. But then came the November policy banning the children of gay couples from being members. It felt like a punch in the gut and I nearly walked away. I was still stake young men president and weighed whether the difference I made in this calling was worth putting up with how church clearly didn’t want me. 

15)   To help my parents buy a house, I had a bunch of their debt put into my name and I lived in the house with them. At the time it seemed a good way to avoid the loneliness of being on my own. But living with them also made walking away from the church tricky.

16)   A month later I hit the 3-year mark of serving in the stake young men’s program, I was released from that and called to be stake executive secretary. My stake president told me that anyone can make appointments, but he wanted my unique viewpoint in all the highest councils of the stake. In this calling I occasionally meet general authorities and I speak with them about being gay in the church. My stake President recently joked that he has twice been a counselor in a stake presidency and now is a stake president, and in those years he’s met many general authorities, yet I have way more impact on them than he ever has.

17)   Shortly after getting this new calling, in 2016 I started my tumblr blog. Eventually I used the blog as a way to examine, explore and record what it’s like to be gay in the LDS church. In some ways this blog is one giant pep talk to myself.

18)   In 2017 my blog exploded, one of my posts went viral. It’s almost like God got tired of waiting on me, now I was out to everyone who knows me, and many more.

All of a sudden I had so many hurting Mormon LGBT people contacting me, most were teens and twenty-something’s. I’ve tried to help them, to affirm them. In many ways it feels like the years as stake young men president working with teens, the years I spent developing a spiritual independence, the studying & thinking about how being gay can work with the gospel, the fears & worries that are part of being in the closet, all of that prepared me for this.

19)   Later in 2017 my mental health dived. I became suicidal. I started therapy. I finally had to face how harmed I’ve been by my time in church. I also had to admit I will never be enough in this church, I can never reach the goals & purpose of life as laid out by the church,. My therapist helped me see that I need another framework for what a successful life looks like and what would make for a joyful life.

In 2018 I was still in therapy and was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder, which partly explains why coming out and leaving the church were so difficult. The major driving motivation of this disorder is wanting to not disappoint people.

20)   My therapist says I feel things more deeply than most people, but because I’d pushed down my feelings so long, it’s actually a bit scary to feel so much. I also started dating and trying to get gay friends. These sorts of big changes were hard for me. The psychologist said, in an amused tone, that I fully examine a path before I’m willing to take a step down it, meaning I’m cautious and slow to get going, but am certain when I begin of where I’m going.

21)   Some of my family openly embraces me as gay and loves me no matter what. Some make their love and access to their children conditional on my being in church.

22)   I thought 2018 would be the year I leave the church. There’s a personal reason I haven’t; I feel there’s one more thing to do, a friend whom I can help. That I came ahead to pave the way for this friend.

I know this all sounds crazy, talking about a voice telling me it’s okay to have gay relationships or that I have some missions in life to accomplish. That’s part of faith, I guess.

23)   It’s unfair to say I’m still attending church for my friend. First, I don’t want him to feel any pressure. Second, it’s my decision, not his. I also am working on paying off debt so I can more easily live on my own, I’ve joined Affirmation and met a lot of LGBT Mormons/post-Mormons and feel like there’s something of a potential support group/friendships there. I’m thinking of changing jobs, even moving to a different university. In other words, I’m laying the groundwork to make any shift more smooth. Whether I take a breather from church or not, these are good things to do.

24)   I’m in my 40′s and can see that in some important ways I’ve lived a stunted life. But I’m also able to use my voice to speak up for LGBT individuals inside the church, to try to make this little corner of church kinder and more receptive.

25)   I can’t even imagine what you’re thinking of me. A hypocrite, someone who stays with an organization that contributed to my own mental health crisis. Someone too afraid to live. I can’t undo my past and all that lost time. I’ve made a lot of progress and am moving forward. I also believe and hope that things I share on this blog and things I say in my local church help LGBT members.

Maybe you can understand, maybe you can’t, why my life went so differently from yours. I’m certain you won’t agree with a number of decisions I made, but they were mine to make and they explain where I’m at now.

[purplesurveys]

507

Name everyone you know who... is Jewish: I don’t think I know anyone who is. Do people I don’t know personally count? ‘Cause the first Jewish person I thought about was Colt Cabana lmfao. is Christian: 92% of this entire country. is Atheist: Me. JM is also atheist I think. is of another religion: I had a classmate in high school who I heard quietly converted to Buddhism, but I was never close with her so I don’t know if that is true, and if she still is. I haven’t seen her since we graduated. has brown eyes: My sister probably has the brownest eyes out of all of us, but it’s still quite a dark shade.

has blue eyes: I doubt there’s anyone in my circle with this eye color. has green eyes: CM Punk? LMAO has another colored eyes: Almost everyone I know has black eyes. is between the ages of zero and five: My youngest cousin is turning 6 in December, but until then, he is 5. is between the ages of six and ten: My cousin Sam is definitely in that age range, I’m just not so sure what the exact age is. is between the ages of eleven and fifteen: Gabie’s sister is 14, turning 15 this November. is between the ages of sixteen and twenty: My sister (18, turning 19), Gabie’s other sister (16), my old busmates Yanna (18) and Lex (17). is between the ages of twenty-one and thirty: Me and almost all of my friends. A bunch of us were born in 1998, making us 21 years old; a handful are 1-3 years older, like JM (22), Jum and Aya (23). is older than thirty: Other than my parents, my internship supervisor. Not sure how old she is but she’s definitely between 30-40. is a morning person: My mom. It drives me crazy when she wants to get soooo much stuff done within the day since I’m more of a night owl and like it’s just not my schedule lol. is a night person: Me, and just about everyone in UP. is employed: One of the more senior members in my org, Toby, has a job. is unemployed: Everyone else I go to college with. works at the same place as you: I don’t work yet. is single: Laurice. Although we’re counting on her to get a boyfriend before she graduates, so she still has around two years to go. :)) is in a relationship: Jo, who is seeing Aya. is engaged: I have a high school classmate who posted a status about her boyfriend proposing to her many months ago. She hasn’t said anything about it since then so I dunno if they broke it off or nah.

is married: Uh...my parents. is widowed/divorced: The mom of one of my childhood friends is widowed. Her husband died from cancer a few years ago when their daughter and I were in high school, if I remember right. is pregnant: My class adviser from senior year in high school. I know she’s in her 40s, so it was a really pleasant surprise when she announced her pregnancy. has kids: My dog, hahaha. has no kids: My friends in college. has brown hair: Agatha dyed her hair brown a while back.  has blonde hair: Gabie had blonde tips until just recently. She had them cut off last week, so now she’s back to having black hair. has natural red hair: No one I know. has black hair: Aya. has their hair dyed an unnatural color: Everyone I know who has unnaturally-colored hair had it dyed, because Filipinos only have black hair unless they’re half-something. is good at singing: Hannah is a born superstar tbh. I know Ed and Laurice sing too. is good at dancing: Dianne. She’s a high school batchmate who was always the best dancer from our class. She’s a member of the Streetdance Club in my uni now. is good at drawing: Aya! She’s our go-to editorial cartoonist in the org. Angela too, and my sister. is good at painting: Gabie and her youngest sister. My sister’s really good too. She also has a classmate I follow on Twitter, and she’ll post her paintings from time to time, all of which are amazing. is good at acting: Gabie. She was president of the theatre club in high school. is good at writing: Me? Hahahaha gotta flex my own talent too :(( is good at guitar: Gabie’s younger sister. I swear those siblings have the most amazing set of talents. is good at piano: My cousin Luke has been playing the piano for as long as I can remember. His grandma (my great-aunt) also knows how to play and they have a grand piano in their house, so he must have picked it up from her. is good at drums: Denise, a classmate from high school. She was the drummer for my batch’s band. is good in another instrument: JM plays the violin. He’s still a rusty here and there, but can play a tune nonetheless. is athletic/sporty: Hans, Angela’s boyfriend. He plays basketball with his friends all the time. is into fitness and going to the gym: Gabie has a gym membership, but she’s not super obsessed with fitness. smokes cigarettes: Mik, an orgmate of mine. He has always extremely smelled like cigarettes the few times I’ve seen him and I honestly have to step away from him every time :/ smokes weed: I know Danika has had weed brownies. does shrooms: Not anyone I know in real life...I think. does other drugs: Can’t name anyone I know, buddy. drinks often: JM will have moods where he will buy a whole bottle of gin or whatever alcohol he’s feeling at the moment for himself and drink it all in his room, but he’s not an alcoholic hahahaha. doesn't drink: My eldest cousin from my mom’s side. His dad is a horrible alcoholic, so it’s understandable why he avoids it at all costs. doesn't do drugs [not even weed]: Me. is emo/goth/scene/alternative: I uhh...don’t know anyone who identifies as this since probably 2011 at the latest... is preppy/popular: KATE without a shadow of a damn doubt. doesn't fall in either of those stereotypes: Aya. has cats: My tita has multiple cats. It’s her business, but she also loves those cats to death and pampers them. has dogs: Gabie’s family has four dogs, but I only get to see Harley since the other three aren’t behaved all that well. JM has two dogs, Mika and Alley. has other animals: Michelle has a bird named Moonmoon, but I don’t know what kind of bird it is. A girl I used to be friends with in high school (she was from a different school) had a pet snake. has no pets: Jo. is vegan: @badsurveyshit​! is vegetarian: Not sure if I know someone. Filipinos are obsessed with their meat. is on some other diet: The same tita with a bunch of cats is on a keto diet. has no diet/dietary restrictions: ME is lactose intolerant: Also me. But I still have milk and other dairy stuff because yum haha. has/had cancer: My great-aunt died from cancer. My old Filipino teacher had thyroid cancer, but she beat it. is bipolar: Edi, a friend of mine. is depressed: Me, I guess. plays videogames: My sister, my dad, my kuya, Gabie. loves to read: LAURICE. It’d be such a shame if I went with someone other than Laurice. got a GED: We don’t use that here. never graduated highschool: One of my friends’ mom. graduated college/got a degree: Both my parents, and all of my friends who graduated before me, e.g. Kate, Aya, Luisa, Jane. is or has been enrolled in beauty school: I don’t know anyone. makes YouTube videos: Ricel, my sister’s classmate from high school. She seems like such a sweet and nice person so when she started her channel a few weeks ago, I was more than happy to support her. is white: My uncle from New Zealand (unrelated; he married my mom’s cousin / my aunt). is black: I have a mutual friend from high school who’s half-black, half-brown. His dad, if I remember correctly, is from Nigeria. is Asian: Literally everyone I know!!!!!!!!!! is Hispanic: I don’t know anyone in real life but one of my favorite wrestlers, AJ, is Puerto Rican. is of another race: Everyone I follow on this Tumblr :)) is into photography: Reiven. likes rock: Rick, I think? The few times his earphones were blaring his music too loud it was always hard rock. likes metal: I dunno if I still know any metal fans nowadays. likes pop: Hannah. likes hiphop/rap/R&B: Hans. And all the other kids in uni who think they’re white. likes KPop: JM and Jum. likes country music: No one I know. likes jazz: Gabie and me. likes classical music: Sofie. When I was driving us to Batangas a few weeks ago for a beach getaway, she was in control of the car music and she briefly played stuff from her classical music playlist :(((( I was shookt at first but I liked the music anyway, so I didn’t tell her to change it. is a male: My dad. is a female: Me. is non-binary: Gabie’s editor from this website she’s a part of. is trans: Mac, from high school. He was formerly Maica, but he started going by Mac once he graduated. is straight: Laurice. is gay: Gabie. is bi: Patrice. lives on the eastern half of the USA: My Tito Rocky, who lives in New York. My Tito Raffy is also from New York.  lives on the western half of the USA: Aubrey, Rielle, Norielle, Margeauxe. All originally from elementary/high school, but eventually migrated. lives in a different country: My Tita Pia and her husband, who is the one I listed under the “is white” portion of this survey. They live in Vietnam, but they used to live in New Zealand. is blind/visually impaired: I had a classmate from my History of Southeast Asia class who is legally blind. He has this device he puts on his eye to be able to read our professor’s slides. is deaf/hearing impaired: I don’t know anyone IRL. is in a wheelchair or disabled: One of my orgmates’ mom is in a wheelchair. is austitic/retarded/has learning disbilities: My Tita Bianca. is very thin: Aya. is overweight: Gabie is a few pounds overweight.

[assbuttyourlife]

When We Were Young - Chapter Twenty-Six

Pairing : Misha/OFC

Warnings : Language, Fire, trauma, PTSD, family members death (including child), therapy, flashbacks (not in every chapter), injuries, cheating. Sexual content. Violence. Non Con/Threats of rape. Long fic. Angst, fluff, Smut. Mention of suicide.

Words : 5376

Summary : After her grandmother’s funeral, Lily must return to the place she lived in when she was young and has to confront the ghosts of her past. She will run into an old friend that she thought was lost forever.

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Tags : @jhudawnareeves

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CHAPTER 26 - Complications

“You WHAT?” Lily almost screamed, the panic obvious in her high pitched voice.

“It's just a couple of days, we have to wrap this scenes, you won't even notice I was gone.”

“Of course I will notice! You can't leave your kids with me just like that, I'm not... I'm not good at that, I'm not ready for this!”

Sure she had spent a lot of time with West and Maison, they all spent a lot of weekends together, Misha even transformed Lily's practice room into a kid's bedroom, but she never had to watch them both at the same time without Misha or Vicki around, and she was scared to death to mess this up.

“What are you so afraid of? You know them, they know you and they like you a lot, what's the worse that could happen?”

“Where do I start? What if they keep crying because they miss you or Vicki too much? What if they feel abandoned? What if one of them is sick? Or worse: both of them! What if someone fall down the stairs, you know how dangerous those fucking stairs are! What if my apartment catch on fire?”

Misha chuckled. “Stop it, drama queen. It's only two days and it will be absolutely fine. If you need anything you can call me or Vicki, she will be here if you need her.”

Lily sighed deeply.

“You can do this.” he hugged her and kissed the top of her head.

“No...” she whined and Misha chuckled again.

“You definitely can do this. I trust you.”

“You shouldn't.”

They were interrupted by two little arms circling Misha's legs. He looked down to meet Maison's pleading eyes.

“Daddy I wanna hug too.”

Lily pointed a the girl “See? She's already jealous, she will hate me...”

Misha took his daughter in his arms and she instantly hugged him.

“Daddy has to go now, will you be good with Lily?”

“Yes!” Maison smiled looking at Lily who almost melted from the cuteness of this little girl.

“Good.” Misha kissed her. “Where's your brother?”

That's when they heard an awful high pitched scratchy sound coming from Lily's bedroom.

“He's playing the violin!” Maison ran toward the deafening sound.

Lily's terrified eyes widened while Misha ran behind his daughter.

“West... we've talked about this, stop touching what's not yours!”

“I just wanted to try...”

“Well don't. Now I really have to go, if I come back and Lily says you were bad, you'll both be in trouble. Okay?”

“Okay...” West pouted.

“Good. Now out of this room.”

Misha led them out of the bedroom and met a very not serene Lily in the living room, leaning against the dining table.

He cupped her face to kiss her.

“It will be okay, don't worry.”

“Yeah...” she replied not convinced.

“I love you.” he kissed her forehead and let go, grabbing his suitcase.

“I love you tooooo!” West and Maison screamed back at the same time, knowing it was Lily's next line.

Misha smiled widely and Lily chuckled “I love you too.”

The kids giggled loudly and ran to their room.

Misha walked out of the apartment and closed the door behind him.

“I'm not gonna survive this...” Lily whispered to herself.

***

“Stop moving! You're soaking the whole bathroom!”

Lily wiped her sweaty forehead, trying desperately to wash Maison's sticky hair. Misha was gone for two hours, and she already tried to style her hair with maple syrup...

“It hurts!” the little girl cried.

To be honest, at that same exact moment, Lily wanted to cry too.

“Your eyes sting because you won't stay still when I'm trying to wash your hair, you have shampoo in your eyes, just... just... please stay still.”

“But I hate water in my eyes!”

“The water won't come in your eyes if you close them and stay... Still!”

Maison cried even more but finally closed her eyes, allowing Lily to rinse her hair. She then dried her face with a towel.

“You can open them now...”

Please... no stinging... please...

Maison slowly opened her eyes and looked at Lily with her huge reddened orbs. She didn't scream, she didn't cry... she smiled and Lily's heart melted a little more at this cute sight.

“See? You're fine. Can we go out of the bath and go make dinner with West?”

“Yes!” she jumped in Lily's arms to go out of the bathtub.

Lily dried her and put her pajamas on before getting out of the bathroom with Maison in her arms, meeting West and Katie in the kitchen, busy preparing pizzas for dinner.

“I'm exhausted.” Lily plopped down on a chair next to her friend.

“It's only been two hours...”

“I know! Told you I'm not gonna survive this.”

“Eh... this little chipmunk is kinda cute.” Katie nodded at West.

Dinner happened without major accident, and while Katie went to read a story to Maison before going to bed, West wanted to watch his favorite cartoon on TV.

“You know I don't have a TV...” Lily reminded him, and West looked at her like she was an alien again.

It wasn't new for him since it was not the first time the kids spent the weekend at her place, but everytime West had to ask her the same question.

“Why don't you have a TV? Everybody has a TV...”

“I told you a million times, I just don't watch TV. Why would I buy a TV if I don't watch it?”

“Are you poor?” West asked bluntly.

“What? What kind of question is that? You don't ask that to people, it's rude!”

“Daddy was poor.”

Ouch...

Lily tried to find a way to avoid that conversation, it was not her place to talk about Misha's childhood with his son, and it made her very uncomfortable. Who knew what Misha told his kids?

She looked at West who was still holding her gaze expectantly.

“Did he tell you that?” she asked not sure where it would lead.

“Yes. He told me he was living in your house with uncle Sasha and Bumble Bee because they were poor. And he said you had a TV in your house...”

Smartass...

“My parents had a TV, yes. But I don't. End of the conversation. Do you want a story too?”

“Will you bring us to your old house?”

“Why would I do that? It's broken and dangerous because of the fire.”

“Daddy said it was his favorite place in the world, I want to see it.”

She really needed to have a conversation with Misha to know what he said to his children about his childhood...

“Oh... he said that? What else did he say?”

West looked up and put his index fingers on his chin to think about it.

“Mmh... He said he met you when you were kids just like me. And now you're old but you’re still friends. ”

Lily chuckled. “We were a little older actually. We were nine. And we’re not old, we’re mature. Big difference.” she corrected almost vexed even if she knew Misha said that to his kids only to joke.

“He says it’s important to find good friends like you and uncle Darius because we always need our friends.”

“And he’s totally right.” Lily smiled tenderly.

She stood up and walked toward the kid's room.

“Alright, come on, it’s time for bed now. Sorry for the TV.”

West followed silently and Lily was surprised when he climbed in his bed without protesting.

“Do you want a story?” Lily offered.

“Yes.” West and Maison answered at the same time.

Katie crossed her arms pouting. “I just told you a story!”

“It's for West now.” Maison replied innocently, making both women chuckle.

“Alright...” Lily walked toward the book case. “What book do I read tonight?”

“I want the story of when you met daddy.” West replied remembering their previous conversation.

Lily stopped in her track to look at him.

“Didn't he tell you that story already?”

“No. He says I have to ask you because you tell it better.”

Lily chuckled and looked at Katie who was sitting on Maison's bed. She stepped forward and sat on West's bed.

“I'm not convinced it's the truth but um... okay... I'll try.”

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

Litchfield CT, Spring 1983.

Lily's small fingers were dancing along the grand piano in her grandparents' house. After five years of practicing, she was getting pretty good at it.

She loved spending her free time in Litchfield with her grandparents. They were always taking the time to make lots of things with her and it was refreshing to spend some time away from the farm. Her grandmother was cooking a lot with her, and she was teaching her how to take care of the garden, while her grandfather taught her pretty much everything else, his favorite activity being crafting cute animals in wood pieces, and going for long walks to study the nature. She could listen to her grandpa talking about flowers and insects for hours without being bored a second.

“Papa?” she looked up at her grandfather sitting next to her on the piano bench without even stopping to play “Do you think I can play another instrument and be good at both?”

He leaned down a little to kiss the top of her hair.

“You can do anything Babygirl. Are you bored of the piano?”

“No... but I'm fascinated by people who plays the violin and I really want to do it more. It's beautiful. I don’t know if I can be good at both though. Violin is much harder.”

Simon smiled at his granddaughter and rubbed her back.

“You should definitely persist and practice more then.”

“Pie in ten minutes!” Lily heard her grandma calling from the kitchen. She looked at her grandpa again with a wide smile, so proud for baking a whole apple pie by herself for the first time without any help from an adult.

“Can't wait to taste that delicious gourmet dessert!” he winked at her. “but first, you need to finish that sonata because it's beautiful.”

That's when they heard the doorbell ringing, interrupting their practice session.

“I got it!” Simon screamed to his wife.

“Keep playing, honey, I'll be back soon.” he said while leaving the room.

Lily focused on the music sheet in front of her and resumed playing the Moonlight Sonata. A few minutes later, she saw the familiar shape of her grandfather's silhouette coming back in from the corner of her eyes, noticing he wasn't alone.

She stopped playing to look at the boy standing next to him. She had no clue who he was and what he was doing here.

“You should keep playing honey, he liked it a lot.” the old man winked at her with a smile.

She stared at her grandfather with an amused look, being so used to him bringing strangers home.

“Does he have a name?” she asked playfully.

“Misha. He brings the papers to us everyday and I’ve never thanked him properly, it’s a shame isn’t it? Misha, this is Lily, my granddaughter who will make the honor to finish that sonata for you.”

“Hi...” the boy greeted shyly making her chuckle.

“Hi Misha!” she replied with a smile.

She cleared her throat and straightened on her seat, placed her fingers back on the keys and started playing again. She was so absorbed by the music that she didn't even notice her grandpa approaching her and placing Misha right next to her on the bench, where he had been a few minutes ago.

She opened her eyes after the final note resonated in the living room and saw him staring alternately between her fingers and her face.

She turned her head to smile at him.

“How was it?” she asked content.

Misha kept staring at her with awe.

“Beautiful.” he almost whispered and Lily's smile widened.

“Beethoven will do that to you.”

“I wish I could play like that.” he admitted weakly.

“You can! You just have to practice! Would you want me to teach you a piece?” she offered sincerely, making her grandfather laugh.

“Sure... but I don't have a piano to practice.”

“You can practice here!”

“Pie is ready Babygirl, your grandmother is giving me the look, we better hurry...” Simon interrupted the kids.

Lily jumped from her seat and took Misha's hand to lead him toward the kitchen.

“You have to taste it! I baked it myself! We can have icecream too!” She was obviously very excited about it and Misha's mouth watered just thinking about icecream.

They both sat at the kitchen table, waiting for their plate.

“Oh we have a guest! I'll need another plate then.” Bethany noticed happily.

“It's Misha the paperboy! I'm sure Papa forgot to pay again... didn't he?” Lily laughed.

“Guilty!” Simon admitted while sitting next to her. “he'll have apple pie with icecream, that's good enough to forgive me, right?”

They all took their first bite at the same time and Lily's face fell a little.

“It's... not as good as yours Nana... But I followed your recipe...”

Bethany glanced at her husband with an amused look.

“Honey... I think you forgot to put sugar in it...”

Lily frowned and pouted, but when she looked at Misha's empty plate and content expression, her face lightened.

“You liked it?” she asked him hopeful.

“A lot.” Misha almost burped. He ate really fast...

Simon and his wife shared a suspicious look.

“Where do you live, Misha? I've never seen you around before.” Simon asked first.

“Bantam, not far from the lake. We've not been here for a very long time.”

“We?”

The old man couldn't help it... he sensed something was strange with that boy and being the caring man he's always been with kids in this town, he wanted to know more about Misha and his family.

Bethany looked at her husband with a meaningful look. Lily could almost hear their silent conversation.

“My mom, my brother and me.” he sipped on his orange juice.

“Oh... where's your dad?”

Bethany flashed her wide open eyes to Lily's grandfather. He couldn't do that again, he was retired!

“He doesn't live with us.” was all Misha replied and he looked down to play with his fingers.

“I think Misha needs another piece of pie!” Lily offered playfully.

Her grandparents shared an amused look and Bethany stood up to serve the kids again.

“I think I'll pass...” Simon answered when she offered another piece for him too and Lily's grandmother had trouble keeping a serious face.

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

“That's how we met... I almost poisoned your dad with unsweetened apple pie.”

West and Maison giggled in their beds.

“Alright, time to sleep now.” Lily stood up to join Katie who was leaning against the door-frame.

“Another story!!” Maison screamed.

“No Maison, I said one. You sleep now.”

“Kiss!” the girl extended her arms.

Lily sighed but walked toward the beds and leaned down to kiss Maison on her forehead. She wrapped her little arms around Lily's neck to keep her from walking away.

“Goodnight Maison.”

“Goodnight Nessy.” she kissed her cheek.

God that little girl is just sweetness on legs.

Wait... what???

“What did you call me?”

“Nessy! Daddy said he calls you Nessy because you stink.”

Katie snorted and hid her mouth behind her hand.

“That's a lie. Your dad sucks at telling stories so he’s jealous and he’s a brat. Don’t listen to him.” Lily crossed her arms.

“You smell good!” West protested and extended his arms to welcome Lily's goodnight hug. “But daddy’s good at telling stories he makes funny voices.”

“Yeah whatever. I’ll practice and I’ll do it too. Goodnight Westy.” she kissed his forehead and walked out the bedroom with Katie.

The two women plopped down on Lily's couch with a glass of white wine.

“We earned it.” Lily breathed out.

“They're cute.”

“When they sleep...”

They both laughed.

“Did you and Misha become friends right away?” Katie asked all of a sudden, still thinking about Lily's meetcute story.

“Not really... I mean we got along right away and he was coming often to hang out with grandpa and I was just following but I can't say he was my friend right away. I was so used to it, grandpa always brought new people in our lives, it wasn't new for me to just be nice with a new neighbor he decided to help.” Lily explained sipping on her wine.

“What was different with him then?”

She thought about it a moment and Katie saw a small smile slowly curving her lips.

“I don't know... there was a strange... passion mixed with a hint of sadness in his eyes, but he was still goofy and fun to be around, I was curious about him just like my grandfather was, and the more I've learned to know him, the stronger our relationship became I guess. You know how hard it is for me to consider someone as a true friend... Misha proved he was mine several times, I understood that clearly especially when my dad died.”

Katie looked at her best friend “Your dad died when you were ten... you met Misha when you were nine. It took you a whole year to figure it out?”

“Like I said, I couldn't call all my grandfather's lost boys my friends. I knew they were just passing by and they would go. I always try to not get too attached to people who just pass by. But Misha kept coming back in my life.”

“What happened when your dad died that was so strong for you that you finally qualified him as your friend?”

“Oh that's a story for another night. I can't talk about that without tearing up so... not now, I'm way too tired.”

“Okay grandma! I'm gonna go home then.”

“What? You're not leaving me alone with the kids! I have a free spot in my bed if you wanna crash.”

“Oooh I'm gonna sleep in Misha's spot with his smell all over the sheets... hello wet dreams!”

Lily playfully slapped her. “You pig, David will be damn happy to know about that!”

“Oh he knows... he knows.” Katie winked at her friends before walking in the bathroom to get ready for bed.

***

“MOMMYYYYY!”

Lily's eyes popped open when she heard Ryan's voice calling.

“MOMMYYYY!!!”

Katie whined and looked at the alarm clock. “What the fuck?”

When Lily realized where she was and that it was actually West's voice, now followed by Maison's sobs, she got out of bed to go check on them.

Of course they would scream through the night... she was that lucky.

“West, what's going on? It's 3am you need to sleep.” she sat on his bed and her chest clenched when she saw the tears in his eyes. Katie walked to Maison's bed sleepily and sat too.

“I saw something... I want Mommy.” the boy confessed shakily.

Oh no...

“Your mom's not here baby... can I do something?” she glanced at Katie who saw the panic in her eyes.

“No I want mommyyyy!” he sobbed.

Lily started to panic a little seeing him crying like that.

“I’m sorry sweetheart but that’s not possible right now. Mommy’s too far to come in the middle of the night.”

“I hate it!” he yelled.

“Hate what?” Lily frowned.

“Being here without mommy! I don’t want you I want mommy and our house! I HATE IT!”

Lily swallowed the heavy lump that suddenly appeared in her throat and tried to hold her tears back.

So this is how it feels to face one of your biggest fear… She knew it could eventually happen when she agreed to settle with Misha, but watching West crying huge tears and admitting he wasn’t okay with this situation was unbelievably painful, and the guilt that raised in her chest at that moment almost chocked her.

She turned to look at Katie who was holding Maison, also crying because she probably was scared now, and her heart broke into a million pieces.

She was helpless and didn’t know what to say or do to calm them down, and she started to regret all of this, hating herself for ruining Misha’s kids life in the process. They were innocent, and then here they were, hurting because of her selfish choice.

“How about we all get up to drink some hot chocolate and chill out a little?” Katie offered, feeling her best friend was losing control and was visibly overwhelmed.

“Yay chocolate!” Maison jumped.

Lily sighed and threw a grateful glance at her friend with relief. She definitely owed her one.

West followed them in the kitchen still pouting, but eventually he stopped crying and sat still on the sofa to sip on his hot chocolate.

Lily didn’t speak that much, she was too shaken for making conversation. Katie took care of everything and after they finished drinking, she went back in the kids bedroom with Maison to put her back to bed.

“It’s very late West, you need to get back to bed now.” Lily ventured when they were left alone in the living room.

“Can I sleep with you?” he asked hopeful.

Katie snorted from the bedroom “Like father like son!” she teased and Lily's eyes rolled.

“Alright...” Lily sighed and got up holding him.

“Hey! Where am I gonna sleep if he takes my spot?” Katie protested. “Plus I'm afraid I can't sleep without Misha's delicious smell on my sheets anymore...”

“Katie! Kids!”

“Alright, alright... I'll take West's bed then...” she crossed her arms and pouted.

“YAY!” Maison exclaimed, happy to welcome her in her room for the rest of the night.

Lily put West in her bed and walked around it to lie in her spot. The boy slid next to her and wrapped his arms around her waist for comfort.

“What did you see?” Lily whispered to West when they were finally lying in her bed.

“A ghost.”

“Ghosts don't exist.” she tried to reassure him.

West moved up a little bit to look at her “A monster then?”

“Nope. Don't exist either.” she booped his nose trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes they do! Daddy says he fight monsters at work.”

Maybe she needed to tell Misha kids don't understand sarcasm...

“No... Castiel fight monsters, and Daddy pretends to be Castiel. Monsters don't exist, Castiel doesn't exist either. He surely explained that to you, right?”

“Maybe... I don't remember.”

“Sleep.” she gently ordered and West became quiet. She thought she won that round until...

“Can we go to the place you grew up with Daddy tomorrow?”

*Sigh*...

“No. It's too far.”

“How far?”

“Very. Sleep.”

“When can we go?”

“One day. Sleep!”

“What day?”

“The day you'll be quiet. Sleep!”

It surprisingly worked and Lily finally heard West deep breathing after a few minutes.

She sighed in relief but thought about what he'd asked.

She wasn’t very fond of the idea to come back in Northfield.

She tried to fall asleep again in vain, haunted by West’s painful words and his huge tears.

I’m definitely responsible for this…

***

As soon as Lily pushed the door of Misha’s house that afternoon, West and Maison spotted their dad and ran into his arms screaming, happy to see him after two days.

“Hey my two little monsters! I missed you!” he kissed both of them. “How was it? Did you have fun with Lily?”

“Yes!” Maison answered right away. “We went to the zoo and we made pie!” her little blue eyes were sparkling with joy.

“Oh? With or without sugar in it?” he teased putting his daughter down and walking toward Lily to kiss her too.

Lily welcomed his embrace and kissed him back quickly. “Ha ha very funny. FYI it was delicious and we didn’t left any for you because you’re mean.”

“Who’s mean now?” he winked. “So… you obviously survived and everybody is in one piece. Told you it would be fine.”

“Yeah…”

She pulled away from his arms and went to grab her bag, ready to go upstairs settling her stuff in their room for the weekend.

Of course Misha noticed her distant behavior and he knew he would have to talk to her later, but right now he just wanted to spend some time with his family.

“How about we play all together before dinner?” he offered turning to West who was already heading towards the TV.

“Yes I wanna build a fort!” Maison jumped on the sofa.

“Fort it is then… we need our tools.”

He stood at the bottom of the stairs to call for Lily. “Lily can you bring the box of crap I keep in the spare room down please? We’re waiting for you to build a fort.” Misha winked at Maison.

“Yep, coming!”

After a quick check in the bathroom, Lily went to the spare room, which was actually Misha and Vicki’s old bedroom, and opened the cabinet to search for the box. Problem was… There were too many boxes and she had no idea which one she needed.

She rummaged in the cabinet for a while, and her eyes suddenly fell on a smaller box, rusty and dirty. She frowned and took it, noticing it was a metal box that probably were damaged and blackened by fire, and it picked her curiosity because it was definitely not their time capsule.

It used to have a lock but it was broken. When Lily opened the box, she was surprised to find a lot of letters, all coming from mister Adams, the guy who owned the farm next to hers in Northfield, and they were all addressed to her mother.

“What the…” she frowned and her heart jumped in her chest when she heard footsteps coming from the stairs.

She put the box back in the cabinet and faked searching for the tool box when Misha entered the room.

“Did you find it? Kids are kind of hyper right now we better hurry before they start moving furniture.” he joked.

“Umm, no it’s a mess in here I can’t find it.” she cleared her throat. She wanted to read those letters before asking Misha why he was hiding that box.

He knelt next to her and looked for a few seconds before spotting the kid’s tool box.

“Got it.”

Lily smiled innocently and walked toward the door, but Misha ran before her and closed it behind him before grabbing her wrist.

“Everything okay?”

“Sure. Why do you ask?” she started to feel a little nervous, she was so not used to hide things from him!

“I don't know… You seem a little upset.”

“I uhh… something actually happened with West but we’ll talk about that later. It’s no big deal I guess, don’t worry it can wait.”

Misha’s eyes wrinkled “With West? Was he bad with you or something? He can be a little tough sometimes.”

Lily smiled weakly and shook her head. “Later. They’re waiting. Don’t worry we’re all fine.”

“Okay…” he replied suspiciously ans stared into her deep green eyes.

When she just stared back at him and didn’t move, Misha closed the distance between them, gently pushing her against the door, and crashed his lips on hers. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss and soon found his way to her neck.

“I miss you” he moaned between kisses.

“I’m right here…” she whispered, closing her eyes at the delightful sensation of his mouth exploring her neck.

“You know what I mean.” he declared, not stopping in his task.

He finally looked up when he felt her hands pushing on his shoulders.

“The kids are waiting. We’d better hurry.”

She looked down, took the tool box back and got out of the room followed by a very suspicious Misha.

*****

“When can we see mommy?” West asked his dad after he finished reading him to sleep.

“In two days, why? Do you miss her?”

“Yes.” the boy looked down sadly.

Misha sighed and stroked his son’s forehead tenderly.

“I can drive you back tomorrow if you want to see her so bad you know?”

“Okay.” he simply replied and closed his eyes to sleep.

Misha didn’t answer, stood up and walked out of the bedroom carefully closing the door being him before going downstairs to join Lily.

She was busy writing a partition for one of her student tomorrow, seated outside on the patio table.

“West wants to go back to Vicki’s tomorrow.”

Lily looked up from her sheet while he sat next to her.

“Oh… actually I can’t say I’m very surprised. ” she confessed.

“What happened?”Misha asked softly, careful not to sound too harsh. Last thing he wanted was Lily to feel like he was accusing her of something.

She sighed, put her pen down and leaned back in her seat.

“He woke up screaming the first night. When I went to check on him he told me he saw something and he wanted his mom. Of course I said it was not possible to call her in the middle of the night. He cried so hard… I thought he would never stop.”

“I see…” Misha calmly replied.

“No you don’t… He told me he hated being at my place. And he meant it.” her voice started to shake.

“He woke up from a nightmare of course he cried and he was lost, and it's normal for him to ask for his mother first.”

“Yeah first maybe... but he still wants to go home now.” she looked down at her fingers.

“I'll talk to him and see what's wrong. Whatever it is I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with you, don't take it personally. We knew they would have to adjust and it could take some time. Is that okay?”

Misha gently took her hand in his and caressed her knuckles with his thumb. She smiled weakly.

“Sure.”

Misha chuckled “Wow you could be a little more convincing.”

“You'll tell me? I mean... if something is really wrong.”

“Of course I will, what kind of question is that? Since when do you think I could hide something from you?”

Since I found a box full of letters addressed to my mom in your closet...

She sank into his pleading gaze. “Right... Sorry. It's probably nothing.”

He gave her a warm smile. “Exactly. And you know what we need right now?” he stood up. “Ice cream! I'll be right back with your order miss Hagen.” he took her hand and bowed to kiss it before disappearing inside.

Lily stared at her music sheet absentmindedly, and all she could think about was that box waiting in the second floor. She would have to wait for Misha to leave for work and she would take the box with her before going back home.

Tomorrow, she would read those letters, and she would know why the person she loved and trusted the most in her life decided it was clever to hide it from her.

[scannain]

The New Music is a new Irish feature film currently in post-production. The film aims to shine a light on Young Onset Parkinson’s Disease, a rare and little known condition which affects people under fifty.

Young Parkinson’s Ireland, which was set up in 2016, suspect that there may be at least 500 undiagnosed sufferers of Young Onset Parkinson’s in the country. Sufferers who may be reluctant to come forward due to a self or socially imposed stigma as Parkinson’s Disease has been traditionally seen as a “old person’s” disease.

The film, which is written and directed by Italian native Chiara Viale, follows the struggles of Adrian, a young gifted musician , who leaves home and heads to Dublin in an attempt to deal with the news of his diagnosis. Despite this debilitating condition, Adrian (played by Dublin-born actor Cilléin McEvoy) joins a punk band as a keyboard player and rediscovers his life through music and friendship.

Filming was completed at the end of 2017 and the production team have launched a crowd-funding campaign to reach out to the public to help them fund the post-production expenses of the film – editing, sound, music, marketing and festival entries. 20% of all funds raised will go directly to Young Parkinson’s Ireland in addition to all future income from the film.

Scannain caught up with Viale to talk about about her background in film and her motivations for making The New Music

Chiara Viale- Writer/Director of The New Music

How did you originally get involved in Filmmaking? I started writing when I was very young and I have always been passionate about cinema. After finishing my BA in English in foreign language and literature I moved to Ireland and joined the Dublin Filmmakers Collective where I developed my first scripts and had my first on-set experiences. At the same time, I started developing my own independent projects: in 2016 I produced, wrote and directed my first short film Be Frank which was nominated for the Rising Star award at the Underground Cinema Awards in 2017. Also in 2017 I produced, wrote and directed the short Clown and produced the short Clear The Air  which are currently in post production.

And what brought you to Ireland? I’ve been in love with Ireland since I first visited as a teenager. After secondary school I spent a year in Dublin working as an au-pair to improve my English. I had always entertained the thought of coming back to Ireland and I finally moved to Dublin in 2015. I am in love with the creative atmosphere that can breath in this country and the extraordinary people I met along the way. I don’t believe my dreams and aspirations could find a better place than Ireland to become a reality.

Where did the core idea for The New Music originate? My approach to writing is strongly related to feelings and emotions and more often than not the concepts of my stories are born through an image, which conveys a certain feeling. The New Music is no exception: I imagined a character who is lying to himself and the people he cares about and although he knows that these lies can ruin everything he has and loves, he can’t stop. Telling the truth is simply too hard for him to handle, because it would force him to face his own fear.

I envisioned a character with an incurable illness which he hides from everyone and that is eating away at him from the inside. Then I created a starting environment for him that would completely clash with the situation he finds himself in and I imagined something to cure his fear and give him a new prospective on life. This is a film about friendship and it shows that help can often come from people who are not necessarily trying to understand, but who show a way out of suffering by simply being a good, reliable influence.

I wanted to create a story with believable characters dealing with issues that everyone experiences sooner or later in life. I wanted to paint a picture of Dublin exactly as it is right now, and how it is to live in a shared house where everyone forgets to buy toilet paper or to get lost using the Dublin map. I wanted to tell the story of all the people who are trying to make art and music here while coping with our money-controlled society.

What is your connection to Young Parkinson’s , why did you choose this particular condition? Adrian is a pianist and his talent is expressed through the use of his hands. I wanted his illness to target his ability to play and after a short research, I discovered Young Onset Parkinson’s, a rare form of Parkinson’s that affects people under the age of 50. Parkinson’s is widely considered a disease that affects the elderly, and I was surprised to learn that lots of young people all over the word are suffering from it.

At this early stage I decided that The New Music had to be about this illness and it could contribute to raise awareness and shine a light on this condition.

Together with Philip Kidd (Producer, Director of Photography, Editor) we decided to contact the Parkinson’s Association of Ireland, who put us in touch with Young Parkinson’s Ireland, with whom we’ve been working with ever since. Representatives of Young Parkinson’s Ireland read and approved the script at pre-production stage and we are currently developing the film in association and close contact with them. At the end of 2017 we started a crowdfunding campaign to cover the post-production expenses of The New Music, 20% of which is being donated to Young Parkinson’s Ireland. Furthermore, we will donate any future income of the film to this association and use the film for charity purposes.

I also have a very close personal experience with rare diseases as my father passed away in 2013 after having MSA (Multiple System Atrophy) a rare neurological disease for which, like Parkinson’s, there is no ultimate cure. In this script I dealt with feelings that my family and I experienced first hand. I also attempted to give my interpretation of what someone afflicted by an incurable disease might feel, and how the ensuing feelings and behaviours impact everyone around them. I hope that The New Music will have the power to bring people together and create a space where these issues can be discussed, as well encourage a conversation around both living and dealing with rare diseases.

Munky- Irish Punk Band

So obviously music plays a huge part in the film, can you tell me more about that? The second constitutive element of my writing has always been music. I consider it a huge source of inspiration and The New Music is fulfilling my dream of writing a story that revolves around music from beginning to end.

In the last few years I’ve been influenced a lot by punk music as a genre but mostly in terms of lifestyle and attitude. The film itself was produced with a strong DIY mindset and the narrative arc of the main character freely represents my own discovery of punk music as a form of liberation and a way to fully express myself artistically. During the writing process I’ve been influenced by bands such as Bomb The Music Industry! , The Smith Street Band, Fugazi, Black Flag, Bad Brains, The Menzingers and Bangers.

Music is the passion shared by all the main characters of the story and it permeates every scene. It firstly represents the desperation felt by Adrian, then it slowly becomes what carries him through the darkness towards the light and a new version of himself. The film shows two types of music that are usually considered opposites: classical and punk. Both play a huge roles in the film and find a way to merge together as the two diametrically different spheres of Adrian’s life find a meeting point. Grand pianos, dusty rehearsal rooms, microphones and wires, music shops and gigs; everything in this film is about music and the love that each character has for it in their own way.

The film features two original songs composed by Zachary Stephenson of Munky and we are currently putting together a soundtrack made of both classical and punk music, featuring mostly unsigned independent artists such as Bangers, Müg (UK) , Antillectual( Netherlands) and Checkpoint, Forgotten Soldier and Declan Byrne who are all from Ireland. Shit Present ( UK) and Irish act Givamanakick are in talks about coming on board.

What are your cinematic influences? I’d imagine Italian cinema plays a big part? I grew up without a TV because my parents were against having one in the house, but we used to have a VHS player attached to a monitor, strictly used to watch films together. Both my parents loved cinema, and I remember watching italian classics of directors such as De Sica, Rossellini, Scola and Tornatore. I also watched cinema classics with my grandparents. I became an avid reader at a young age and soon I started writing my own stories for my friends to read. I took inspiration from books, comics, Japanese cartoons that I would watch with my friends and music. One of my first dream jobs was to write for music videos.

It took a few more years for me to develop a proper taste for cinema, but to this day the vital element of a film to me is still storytelling. I love those films that tell a story the same way as I wish I did, that put an accent on the psychological development of characters and can capture me emotionally. Directors such as Krzysztof Kieślowski, Anton Corbijn, Gus Van Sant, Nicolas Winding Refn, Tony Richardson, Jeff Nichols and Ben Wheatley have been a major influence on me both narratively and aesthetically.

Are there any Irish filmmakers at the moment that you are interested in? I love Jim Sheridan’s films and Martin McDonagh as a filmmaker (and playwright). I also really enjoyed the productions made by Cartoon Saloon. There are a good number of Irish films that I watched through the years and that really stuck with me, such as: Inside I’m Dancing, I Went Down, The Commitments, The Wind That Shakes The Barley, Breakfast On Pluto and Once. I am looking forward to Mark O’Rowe’s The Delinquent Season.

Look out for the trailer for The New Music which is out in the coming weeks. You can follow the cast and crew on their social media channels below and most importantly if you want to donate to the cause just click here.

Follow the film’s progress on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and YouTube.

Cilléin McEvoy – lead

Chiara Viale- director

    The New Music- Upcoming Irish Feature shines a light on Young Onset Parkinson's Disease The New Music is a new Irish feature film currently in post-production. The film aims to shine a light on Young Onset Parkinson's Disease, a rare and little known condition which affects people under fifty.

[nighttimelights-prompted]

Is it possible to request Reapertale Sans (if you do him) with an immortal human s/o/friend where they constantly meet up on earth as they never age but their memory is long since degraded after living so long so he's their one real thing they really know by this point (im bad at explaining). If you don't do reapertale then could you have the immortal human who was friends with Toriel, Asgore and/or grillby before the war and they are finally reunited after years apart thinking the other died.

(i’ve never written reapertale sans before, so i took a little bit of time to try and find out more outside of what i knew of him already - i’m not sure if i can do him justice without taking more time on him yet, so for this one i decided to go with the grillby and reader reuniting after years apart.  

(And here’s the right music for setting this scene, if you’re so inclined.)

Your fingers danced at ease over the keys of the grand piano positioned on the unobtrusive corner stage. A melancholy sweet jazz tune hummed from the strings under the open lid, filling the bar you owned with a warm and welcoming atmosphere.

The stools of the bar were tucked neatly under the hanging lip of the dark stone of its counter, and the chairs of the open tables rested neatly upside-down on top of the tables they belonged to. The dark wood of the booth tables gleamed under the low light coming from only the stage you played on and the warm back lighting of the bar itself. The lights there were never out, you saw to that. They hadn’t been extinguished since that night nearly 200 years ago now…

The night that the monsters had been driven from their last bastion at the base of the mountain your town called its home.

The echo of the hoarse voice you had ended the night with slid through your throat, and you closed your eyes as your soul hitched deep within your chest. The night had been spent slipping through the underbrush, rescuing human allies that had nearly been burnt alive by the mages’ forces, heading off what soldiers you could with false directions and traps, trying to buy as much time as you could for your nonhuman friends - for those that had become your family over so many years.

At that point, it had truly only been a matter of buying them time, after the ongoing slaughter that had only worsened over time… and bound to this mountain as you were, having tied your soul to it through love of the area and passionate intent to protect those who cared for it and made it their home as you did, you had nothing but time.

If only you had been able to give it all to them.

Your closest human friends had long since passed on, and you had little hope that your monster friends had survived. The mages had sealed them deep within the mountain, but you knew the kindness and compassion of their souls were infinitely fragile in the face of that kind of despair.

Your fingers faltered for a moment.

Another child had gone missing a month ago. They never returned… you did what you could for the humans who remained by this mountain, providing shelter, upholding the knowledge and memory of the monsters for those who cared to hear it, tending your bar as a haven, as a rallying point for community and strength in soul.

But by the stars, did you miss the firey man you had first built this bar with.

You missed the way his flames would crackle in that certain way when he laughed; the way the rich, deep tone of his voice always able to hush a room when he cared to make his stories heard; the way his deft hands would flip shakers and bottles and catch them just as smoothly; the way the quirk of his brow could tell you all you needed to know about a patron.

The lights behind the bar, lit by his own flame, had gone out the same night those mages had sealed them all within the mountain.

Your eyes opened and you looked towards the exposed beams of the ceiling, letting the music pour out of you. To this day, you had only time, and it was a few hours after your closing time… barely an hour from dawn, as such.

Sleep wasn’t coming for you this morning, you knew. The tension hadn’t left the curve of your spine since the afternoon; your access to magic was limited, only stronger when dealing with people and souls and reading their intentions, stronger when handling matters of music and expression and the sharing of good times. Even still, both magic and baser instinct deep within you felt that something was different today. Never mind the normal patrons not having heard of any disturbances, or the news not having come up with something else…

A sigh slipped past your lips. You hadn’t stopped playing, the music from the piano soothing your soul as the faces of your old friends slipped through your memory.

The white fur of the monarchs themselves, crushing you happily in their customary hugs when you visited them in the early afternoon with a meal to brighten the growing weariness. The stark bone of the head scientist, catching the light of the bar in an ethereal and dark way that matched the wicked grin that would split across his face whenever an elaborately outlaid teasing wordplay hit the target of his words - often you, you recalled with a huff and a soft grin. The bright glow of the radiant flickers of flame that sparked from that flaming bartender’s arms as he pushed his sleeves up his biceps to haul a barrel of liquor up from the basement.

Stars, you couldn’t get him out of your mind tonight. Your soul was growing tighter and tighter - you may not have been able to see it since the monsters were sealed away, but that was probably for the best. It had taken everything you had to not fall apart at the loss of them - at the loss of him…

“Grillby,” you sighed.

There was a knock on the door.

A tentative stutter, and then a sharper, firm rap.

Your fingers came to a short stop.

Your chest still felt tight, and your brow furrowed slightly. The town knew you as a safe haven that no one dared to outright cross, and knew you’d help those who truly needed it, whatever the hour may be… perhaps your gut had been right, and there was something off about tonight.

“Coming,” you called out as you stepped from the worn leather bench. The lights you left low as they were, not feeling up to blinding yourself or your visitor for the sake of clarity.

Quick work was made of the latches, and you began speaking before you had fully opened the door.

“What seems to be the matter-”

Your voice died in the light you were greeted with.

Filling the doorway as he always had, dressed a nearly-modern bartending outfit, frozen with one hand up from his knocking, was your dearest friend, the bar’s once co-owner, the monster you had fallen in love with without ever having been able to act upon it.

Your name fell from his mouth in a hoarse whisper at the same you spoke his.

Neither of you moved for a moment longer.

Then, as one, you grabbed him in a desperate embrace as he swept his arms around you.

“How are you- no, surely - it - I thought-” you stammered into his chest as you tightened your arms around him, not fully believing the broad chest you were flush against, even with his impossibly gentle heat quickly seeping through to the very core of you.

“You’re alive, how, how can it be,” he murmured at the same time. His voice was the same rough baritone you remembered, but it put every dear memory you had to shame. He crackled as he held you closer, dipping his head down to rest his head atop yours.

You felt the tears welling in your eyes as the heat built painfully in your cheeks, not from his fire but from every cracking, needle-sharp emotion that was shooting through you. You pulled your head away, catching his gaze immediately, trying to find the words.

“I’m… Grillby, how are you here? I’d say I was dreaming, but I would have fallen asleep at the piano and the groan of the keys would surely have woken me up by now,” you laughed, a little helplessly, a little lost, and a little utterly overwhelmed.

His hand brushed against the base of your neck. “The barrier… it broke,” he said, disbelief even in his own voice.

You weren’t quite sure if it was disbelief in the barrier being gone, or in being here with you.

“Oh, stars - Grillby, please, please come in-” you pulled back with a start, realizing the chill night air was still brushing over and around you both standing in the threshold. Pride rose in you at how steady your steps were as you moved back and grasped his hand, pulling him gently in so you could bump the door shut. You made your way to the bar with him in easy tow, insisting he sit down on a stool.

He did so, disbelief still clear in his flames as his hands gently met the stone of the bartop, almost reverent in the way they skimmed over its polished surface.

“It hasn’t changed,” he murmured. Your soul thrummed and ached all at once at the pained joy in his rough voice.

You were already behind the bar, your hands pulling out a glass, a dark chilled stone, and a deeply amber bottle of a special whiskey from the shelf highest along the wall. The glass of the bottle shone, despite it being one you hadn’t opened in nearly a century.

“I never wanted it to,” you replied softly. Then, despite yourself, you grinned as you opened the bottle. “Well, though, I’ll admit - modern electricity and plumbing certainly made a few things easier in the back.”

He laughed at that, the sound startled out of him and spreading the grin on your face with the warmth of it, with the warmth of him, a warmth you hadn’t felt all these years.

His laughter quieted as you set the glass in front of him, swirling enticingly with the amber liquid you had poured for him. His hand plucked the glass up in a motion so natural, it matched the easy way you leaned forward on your side of the bar.

He lifted it to eye level. The deep golden lights that served as his eyes studied it for only a moment before widening and flickering to you. “Surely, this isn’t…?”

Your smile turned wistful, and you nodded. “The last batch of whiskey we ever prepared,” you confirmed.

He was frozen in place, the term almost not fitting for the gentle way his flames danced low and close to him. At last, eyes seeming to close, he took a sip. The line in his shoulders relaxed, and he sighed the tiniest, lowest breath. The glass hung in front of him, held just firmly enough in his easy grip as the moment hung on.

The next moment, he opened his eyes, and he leaned forward. You stayed still as his fingers brushed your cheek, slowing as his thumb wiped at the corner of your eyes.

The smallest hiss could be heard as he dried the streak of tears that had fallen down the curve of your face.

Your hand lifted and rested over his still cupping your cheek. Your throat was tight, almost too tight too speak.

“Welcome home, Grillby.”

He leaned over the bar, his face so terribly close to yours as he pressed his forehead against yours. His voice was nearly too rough to understand as he whispered a reply.

“... I’m home.”