#all because my brother didn’t want to take the car that a) has valid tags b) wasn’t blocked in in the garage c)

[oranberrie]

Sometimes, I’m like “man, I think I might have been looking too deep, I’m not sure if I’m autistic.” And then I nearly have a meltdown but then instead shut down after The Plan For Today that only I know goes awry and therefore messes up The Plan For Next Week, when had things been done The Right Way nothing would have gone wrong.

[benefits1986]

Studies show that brick and mortar retail stores up the ante of conversion through immersive experience. Cinnabon plants itself in “weird” spots to rise from the cluttered food space. Starbucks Music, ages ago aims to capture a “third place” where you spend time in between work and the home. Nike, inspired by the winged goddess curates stories that make you feel that you just friggin’ do it. Lush lovingly pounces on scents and the tactile game in the hopes of selling a whole line of their goodies alongside the “handmakers” who brought every soap, body scrub, lotion and fragrances to life. All roads lead back to Kotler and marketing is talaga as my mentor-second dad puts it back in college. LOL. Sineryoso po talaga natin i-connect ang dots na parang walan connect for choodaze vidyow.  Sidenote: Dami na Grammarly hits nito, pero ganun talaga. Nagsusulat ako. The bots can edit my thoughts farts later. CHE. Hassle talaga dyslexia, noh? :D  Still numb but hopefully putting my thoughts here will enable me to feel. So, let me enumerate the snippets of the last weekend, my lola’s last Sunday on earth. Maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to welcome grief because Deft Gravity is still my soundtrack for close to a week. Wicked, I know, but, baka naman, this time around, I’d be to choose to be kinder to myself as people around me are all so supportive about this really life-altering, death-defining chapter. EMS.  MY BROTHER’S A KEEPER (LOL)  My grand plan was to arrive fashionably late Sunday morning style. I wanted to color my hair in a random shade, paint my nails bright red, get a facial and a soothing massage, plus a possible curated white outfit to prep myself for my lola’s final game. Not because I want to look good, but, I was trying to escape troubleshooting again. You see, wakes take so much effort to pull together. Even when you get a decent or above average “burial package,” this “circle of life” chapter goes beyond any A-line casket and ridiculously pricey burial ground. However, my brother egged me that his boss granted him a leave from Thursday to Monday. Sabi ko, sana all. But, in reality, since I shared the news to my boss, I was asked to take whatever time I need. LOL. Ako lang talaga ‘yung walking red flag. Takas po tayo sa emotions, opo. Work po tayo, opo. Of course, since my brother and I are literally the exact opposites, he lambasted me and didn’t stop until I agreed that we are going to Laguna on a Friday. He knew that I am once again deflecting his very valid, heartfelt plea; but, this time, kulang na lang bitbitin niya ako sa car para sumama. I knew he meant well, but, I still tried to be busy. Sabi niya na gusto niya maka-bonding si ina one last time because he has been looking after his panganay and his pregnant wife. Medyo ad hominem ‘yung line of thought niya so, push back pa ako; but syempre, spolied siya so, gesi. I said fine, fine, fine. I grumpily packed my work and personal laptop before packing my stuff. And he stared at me with distate. I shot a series of side-eye emojis IRL back at him. He said, tigilan mo ‘yan ate. 37 ka na. HAHAHAHAHA. I said, wala siyang pake kasi ‘di naman siya nag-effort nung andyan pa si ina. Ako tumangke. He said, e syempre, forte ko ‘yun. Natural. FUCK. He reassured me na he won’t mind na mag-work ako kahit sa SLEX o sa kung saan basta sumama na ako pauwi. Since I wasn’t able to eat and sleep the past days and nights, ginawa na naman niya akong Tamagochi. Sabi baka raw pumayat ako and he patiently dropped by 3 gas stations kaso narealize namin ‘yung Cinnabon pala nasa first station. Honestly, I know where Cinnabon is sa SLEX pa-Tags since matic stopover ko ‘yun pati ng pantog ko. Hahahahaha. When we arrived at Calamba, he parked in Starbucks and said he wanted libre na ham sandwich. I see you, little shit. I see you, clearly. He even said, baka may nakalimutan ako buy sa Watsons, which is right beside Starbucks Calamba going to Pansol. I discovered Amber branch na same building ng Starbs and Watsons. May BDO pa, baka raw gusto ko mag-withdraw. Damngurlll. :D Naisahan ako ng kapatid ko since alam niyang consumerist ako. I forgot my PIN code pa of all days, kaya sabi niya, chill lang. Siya na lang daw muna pero pay ko siya with transaction fee, toll and other stuff. Daig pa 5-6 nito e. I scrambled and almost locked my ATM. He said, tama na raw drama ko. Ending: he got his food coma spread + transaction fee na gas, toll, car wash + interior deep clean (spoiled talaga ‘tong bunsong ‘to. Car ko nga, ‘di ko ginaganito e.) + choco drink with PBJ sandwich and my leftovers because I can barely eat pa rin. He also adjusted the AC many, many times because I forgot my jacket. Lamigin at madali akong mainitan. Nastress din ako kasi adjust siya ng adjust ng AC. Sabi tumigil daw ako. Feeling ko raw. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Pinagsabihan na naman ako na 2 laptops ko tapos akala mo digital nomad starter pack dala pero walang jacket. CHE. We had unli relx stopovers as well and even sa car, sige, relx like there’s no tomorrow. We even passed by his suking vape shop so I could get 10 boxes of Dark Sparkle, pero syempre, ‘di niya libre, like always. LELS.  During the roadtrip to Laguna, confession time siya. He said that he missed me kahit alam niya ‘di ko siya miss. And that he hopes that the day will come na maging proud ako sa kanya. Syempre, una, sabi ko, I don’t have any expectation naman na sa kanya. Suko na ako. LOL. That’s what gets for warshocking my well-built fortress. Pero nung butthurt durog levels na ego niya, syempre bwelo tayo. Told him that he should not be jealous of my “adopted” baby brother and I’s bond. ‘Di sila match. And that, he has been through the shit hole na ‘di naman niya na-create and that he is on his way to being Team Payaman which is not measured lang by monetary gains, but more importantly, how he works his ass off sa pag-make ng well-lived life not only for him, but his growing family. Our 3-year hiatus has been lifted. Gago ko raw na hindi ako nangangamusta. Sabi ko naman, buti pa nga siya naka SUV na, ako wala pang pick up na may bike and Vespa. Sabi niya, gago ko raw. LOLOLLOLL. I truly love my trusty rusty Ecosport talaga kasi pero syempre, in time, ‘pag oks na, dun tayo sa kahit punggok ako at may bangkito mag-drive saka bumaba ng car, cutie pa rin ‘yung car kasi ako hindi. HUHUHUHU. Puro lang seen and typing tapos wala namang replies na matino. LOL. Next time ko na siguro kwento ‘to na deep dive para mas prod levels.  I CAN BUY MYSELF FLOWERS +++ So ayun nga... my grand plan to work while the world is crying itself to sleep failed big time. Managed to swing one very specific task na ako lang kasi may access talaga. LOL. Nag-sorry pa super mga team mates na involved with so much compassion pero syempre. defy gravity po tayo. :D Our Team Panganay GC exploded... we are tasked to do stuff to get my ina’s send off party a memorable one na ayon sa gusto niya. PAK. SHET. KAYO. AKO. TAYONG LAHAT. Since I organize and fine-tune our life events the past years, syempre, mhie, maxxed out po tayo. I have so many things na ‘di ako nasunod kasi nga, late na ako dumating, but andami pang tasks na naiwan. UGH.  One of the very graphic things I handled was the offerings sa church. Syempre, medyo rusty memory na ako since I rarely go to a traditional church lalo sa Laguna, because I vehemently abhor mga rebulto. As in. I wanted all anak, apo and apo sa tuhod plus the mga asawa na magkaroon ng part because, we take shit seriously. First time daw na ang haba ng pila sa offertory pero wala akong paki kasi we are a big family talaga and gusto ko, lahat may part sa kwentong ito ng ina ko. That said, since ginusto ko ito, I had to buy flowers plus a whole lot of things pa to make this happen. The design is very Batang Quiapo kasi sa palengke lang merong isang flower shop since my ina’s town is a relatively sleep one. OCD na naman kasi ang available lang is 2 magkaiba na colors. I even sheepishly with impit asked if the florist could replace the “damaged” leaves. She smiled at me and said, fishtail leaves daw ‘yun. I said, kaya pala I tried choosing one na walang damaged leaves pero I found none. Walking back to the car, I felt the weight of the flowers na as though 30 KG backpack ko nung nag Vietnam ako. :D LOL. Bakit po ganun? Bakit?  Buti na lang I HATE FLOWERS talaga so I have another reason to hate them all the more.  Hassle sa big family is you’ll have a sweet and shitty time sa pag-exhaust ng participation in events na may time constraint. I joked mga sunset na namin malilibing ina ko at the rate we’re going even when we start on time. But, syempre, hindi tayo papayag ng ganun. After an exhausting last hurrah, we’re ready to give my ina the grand send off she dasurvs.  EXTENSION CORDS AND CARE TEAM  Every town has its own tradition in burying their dead. Even when I abhor traditions, syempre, my ina is traditional, kaya tabi ako. The family didn’t have a lot of time to weep and gather kasi here, guests come by as though may BTS event. Hahahaha. Free-flowing food, drinks atbp. but no sugal, inuman and videoke because that’s not my ina’s vibe kahit tradition ‘yan Big 3 na ‘yan. Parang fiesta but a sedated one ‘yung design if I put it bluntly. No bashing. Ganun talaga e. Adjust tayong mga taga-Manila, okay? We were asked to wait outside the house for her. Tears started trickling everywhere but natawa ako talaga since nakakaiyak pala makakita ng extension cords na bitbit ng Burial Team kasi inisa-isang ilipat ‘yung mga stuff around ina’s casket. I whispered this shit to my ka-Team Pangangays and natawa din sila. Nandamay pa ako sa very, very dark humor ko, opo.  But, when I saw Monic, my ina’s first and best in performance caregivers, naiyak ako. Naiyak din siya. We hugged and no words were said. Sabi ko, usap kami later and even ‘pag balik ko sa Manila. Monic is our family and ina’s precious lifeline. She lovingly looked after ina. We even joked na since her hips don’t lie as well, she will be part of our family tree na. You see? Strangers can be family. And Monic is one family we didn’t see coming. Grabe pa nga iyak niya kesa sa amin to be honest. Hiyang-hiya ako e pati emotions kong well-guarded.  LINE UP KAGULO AND PAK BOOMS  Aim is to lessen the blow of ina’s 6 kids who are under maint and pa-senior years na. Even 40-ish tita na menopausal baby ni ina is obviously super down the drain.  Gah. Aging parents are tougher to manage. Attendance checks mean a good time to check if they took their meds, monitored their BP, blood sugar and other aching body parts. Good thing dad’s maint are super basic naman so no further questions, your honor. Tigas lang talaga ng ulo. As in.  The 6 kids lined up and because there’s a procession for ina’s body pa, busy bees sila sa church. Though, my basher dad said na bakit nauna pa sila sa church instead of hatid ina ko with the fam. Sabi ko shut up. Go. :D LOL. Pero tinapik ko muna sa balikat then umiyak. ‘Wag ko raw siyang hawakan. Very Aries x Cancer kagulo but no escalation naman. They walked to the church. AWWW.  THE FINAL BATTLE OFFENSE & DEFENSE  -All male apo and hubs ng pinsans = bitbit casket  -All 6 kids ni ina because pasaway, formation na sa church para wala ng kagulo like a prep student  -All the female pinsans ikot-ikot lungs as logistics + offerers -All wives/hubs of 6 anaks, on standby with water, fan, pang BP. wheelchair, etc. (LOL)  -All the apo and apo sa tuhod = stand by; distract the parents/grandparents + no tantrums for the offertory   -Me: nominated to do the reading (FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.)  -Final words: Tito who is the eldest because in this town, eulogies are not common. 1 lang talaga spokesperson for the mass  The boys in the yard who held ina’s casket shared na pabigat ng pabigat ‘yung weight as they near the burial spot. Wild but sure. True naman na when emotions run high, your rationality is overridden.  Syempre, ako naman na ‘di prepared magbasa, I forgot to take three deep breaths before starting the reading in friggin’ Tagalog so mas graphic. Nagmukha tuloy spokenword sa Sev’s Cafe. HAHAHAHAHA. I did well naman in general kasi naiyak din sila but pigil talaga. Actually, procession pa lang, the bunsong anak who was holding the big cross na lagot talaga tayong lahat kay Papa Jesus ‘yung vibe, ngalngal without a sound na. Kaya na-hit ako. :D LELS. The most heart-wrenching cries are the soundless ones kasi for me. Kakanood ng Eiga Sai. Bwiset.  This bit in the reading hit so hard. I cannot defy gravity for a few seconds. FML. ‘Di ubra rehearsed combo ko ng offense and defense. SHET.  Roma 8:11  Nguni't kung ang Espiritu niyaong bumuhay na maguli kay Jesus ay tumira sa inyo, ang bumuhay na maguli kay Cristo Hesus sa mga patay ay magbibigay buhay naman sa inyong mga katawang may kamatayan, sa pamamagitan ng kaniyang Espiritu na tumitira sa inyo. Bakit kasi Tagalog? Bakit walang practice? Pero trained po tayong mag-read kahit may dyslexia po tayo in front of a big ass crowd kaya, push. All for ina. AHOO. AHOO. AHOO.  Then, the much awaited offertory.  Syempre, we have soooo many kids and tiwala na lang na matawid ‘yung walk nila to the altar ng walang tantrums. I watched them matang-lawin style from afar and checked if complete attendance. Okay naman. Good. Natawid. And seeing an almost complete family sa front ng altar in front of Nazareno is again, very Batang Quiapo. LOLLOLL. While I may not be traditional, I have a soft spot for symbols that go beyond the tradition. A very soft spot to be exact. Seeing the family together with their heads bowed down right beside my ina is just too poetic... it’s graphic and fantastic. Dama mo sa kaibuturan ‘yung blessing na we will HEAL TOGETHER if we stay together. EMS. Clingy? Not me since taga-troubleshoot pa rin ako until she is six feet under the ground.  FAULTY TIMELINE, FUNNY TWISTS And so we go to the final walk. UGH. Had to be with dad even though ayaw niya pa rin pahawak like me to ina’s forever home. Been consoling myself that this is my first dibs on summer x caramel skin x lighter hair season. Ang init e. LOL. But, nadali na naman ako. Moon River played bigla and then poof, iyak. Super fave namin ni dad niyan na a lot of versions nasa Spotify PL namin. Moon River will now have a super different meaning. LORDEEE, WHY? WHY? Sakto talaga e. Buti na lang chorus part lang though super sapul. Though very ina’s vibe ‘yung Moon River ha. Sige na. OK. OK. OK. Seen. Felt. Tagos na felt. ‘Di masasalag.  PS: Did you know that the last sense that sleeps and the first to wake up is our hearing? Very magical mundane sharing pero, gets?  Dad was handed a bunch of white roses that he then passed on to the family and friends of ina. I can’t even bear to put my relx down as I was watching the family’s OG photographer snapping away in this very untimely photo op. Closed casket naman, pero syempre, sige lungs. Traditions. Social fuckin’ constructs. Go lungs. Dito lang ako sa gedli.  Tears stopped flowing because as the mighty men were lowering my ina’s body to the ground, nagka-error sa measurement. The design morphed into Home Along Da Riles rerun real quick po. Ina never fails. Alam niya na we will be crying non-stop kaya siya nag-adjust. The measurements were done and triple checked by an able team so what the heck, right. Natawa na lang talaga kami kasi ready na po ang lampin levels crying ladies and gents late afternoon.  The crowd dispersed na and the white-clad family was able to spend more time with her. relx pa more sa gedli because bakit wala ako nung ni-measure??? Bakit ako nasa harap ng laptop ko when I could have handled this very tiny yet essential detail. Dad sheepishly said na kasalanan niya since nagtiwala siya sa burial team. I said, 15/10 chef’s kiss siya. Very, very good job. But, bawi mode naman ako na si ina talaga nag-adjust because she wanted her finale to be a less painful one for all of us. GAH. My eye is welling pero very dry pa rin. Sahara levels dry cry po tayo as I’m typing this bit IRL. Up until the end, ina made a way to let us see that her days on this part of the universe may have really bad and ugly days, but they are outnumbered by the good, the magical mundane ones.  Before dusk, she was finally put to rest. Magkasama na sila ng ama ko. O ‘di ba? May forever? LUH. Hahahahahahahahha. Next task ko: design their tombstone + one liner to go with it. No rush naman daw. Nubayaaannn. Pero g lang. Copy. Noted with thanks. Ako na. Utusan. As always. Sa isang araw na ako mapressure.  FRENCH EXIT GONE FILIPINO EXIT  I wanted to be LIFO (last in, first out) that Sunday. Wala lang. Gusto ko lang bumalik sa Manila ng maaga to squeeze in time for my supposed “man versus machine” content curation szn. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Ganda ng excuse ko pero my tita who is my tag team sa journey with ina told me na she ordered caldereta and fresh lumpia. Sayang naman daw if I let this combo pass and she knows daw na I’ve not been eating well the past weeks.  Syempre, as a Tamagochi baby na ubos na ubos na, na-clickbait IRL na naman ako. No thumbnail needed. :D PAK. SHET. My brother also egged me to shut the fuck up and eat kasi fave ko ‘yung combo na ‘yun. :D May Chooks To Go pa. He even added that I should take a leave dahil ‘di biro ang magtawid sa Other Side and saltik daw talaga ako. Category is: Team Taguan Ng Feelings. I stomped IRL and said, fine. For the love of caldereta and fresh lumpia. Tae. Ambabaw ko talaga noh? Tita smiled the winning smile and hugged me. She thanked me and told me good job ako, kami. Sabi ko naman: dapat lang. Basic. Parang nasa office lang din ako but with DEAD LINES. She still can’t grasp how my daily grind looks like kasi I am the only one in the family na nasa digital/agency route. LOL. Told her na basta, ganun na ‘yun.  I stuffed myself with dasurv caldereta and fresh lumpia na ‘di estetik. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Super love. I took precious bites of Chooks To Go thigh with pwet part. :D YUM. While downing my combo, I looked at how the family was able to power through as I put one hand in my chino’s pocket and prayed that we will be able to slay the HEAL TOGETHER mindset in the next chapter of our crazy family’s story. 

Shet. Sobrang graphic na naman po. In mother dragon’s finale walk kasi, everything was a blur. I felt like a walking numb feet all over. I purposefully shut down all my emotions because I can’t take the burn talaga noon. This time around, perhaps because I’m trying to be an adult eventhough I obviously am a WIP 5evs naman talaga, I allowed my curious critter self to be in the moment. :D HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Even when my emotional cell walls are non-permeable, medyo naging more attuned naman tayo. Bit by bit. Bwelo-bwelo lang.  Thank you, ina and mother dragon. Though I firmly believe that childbirth may be anti-feminist, my friggin’ Achilles’ heel is anything MOM. Luh. Thank you for making the world or the universe rather, to see that no titles, no career gains, no milestones are without the power of moms who slay dragons, demons and dark holes. Thank you for living by example that is not bound by double income household pressures in the hope of raising a family. Syempre, generation niyo ‘yun noh which is another argument that deserves a deep dive. Thank you for planting the seeds of compassion and manipulation done right in me. LOL. You see, moms are the OG budols. They believe in you even when you’re a total wreck. They stand by you even when no one else does. They override their rationality to love you unconditionally and without ROI. Damnnn. To be a mom. So problematic. Mother dragon said several times then when faced with yet another argument about funds and out future with dad: Kung may sweldo maging nanay, ang yaman na niya. Kaso, wala. Worst, unseen pa. LOL. Kabogstra. Sabay sabing: Kaya ikaw, Alvene, ayusin mo pagpili mo. :D Waw. Look, ma. Still patiently waiting. :D Darating din ‘yan but mas ready na akong maging backpacking Noona kasi andami kong alaga to be honest apart from my 3 dogs. Kwento ko lang ulit next time ‘pag nasa mood na ako to show my maternal (EWW) side. LOL. 

Action item for the incoming thought farts: processing in the dark room of the unknown; because sabi nga nila, it is in the dark room where you are able to birth the negatives that turn into frozen moments in time. Make it shine.  I feel better. Dami ko na namang sinabi pero oks lang kasi at the back of my head, ready na tayo makipagbakbakan sa machines baon ang ating dyslexia at mga tiny details in the name of lived micromoments szn. CHZ.  Au revoir! XOXO 

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Congratulations

Fred Weasley x Reader

~Master~

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: Hope you like! Please like, reblog, comment, whatever! I need validation! 😂 I wrote this on a whim and okay, if anyone knows that like interview or whatever that Selena Gomez did where she was asked a song that reminded her of being in love, that’s what got me writing this at midnight because I caught inspiration. 

***

“Y/N will play with us! Won’t you, Y/N?” Ginny yelled out as she entered the common room, ruining the world you distracted yourself in with your book. Behind her was a group of people, a couple of them having the Weasley red hair, but all of them your friends. Ginny smiled at you, approaching the table you sat at and sliding into the seat.

You sighed deeply, putting a fake smile on your own face as you closed your book. “What are we playing?” A few people celebrated as you agreed, but right away your eyes flickered to a certain nervous face. It wasn’t that Fred didn’t want you to play, it was that since you both broke up 3 weeks ago, you’ve barely said a word to him. If you play this game, you’d be close, not walking out of rooms the moment the other walks in. You gulped, feeling Ginny pull you over to the couches where everyone began taking seats. You fell in between Hermione and Harry, both of them quickly noticing Fred taking the seat farthest from you.

There were 7 people playing with you. Ginny, Harry, Hermione and Ron, the twins, and Angelina. George pulled out a box from behind him as you quirked a brow. “What are we playing?” you asked again, letting a laugh as George made a big debacle of opening it.

“It’s a game Fred and George made.” Hermione said as leaned over to you, amused to see how this would turn out. “We’re the test subjects.”

Your eyes went wide. “What pranks weren’t enough, they moved onto games?” you laughed as Hermione smiled and shrugged, knocking her shoulder with yours.

“Tell us the rules.” Ginny told her brother causing George to roll his eyes as he removed the last two things from the box.

“It’s a simple game.” He began, sharing a smirk with Fred.

“Like Truth or Dare.”

“Only different.” They said together, having planned their pitch beforehand. You kept your eyes on George as they spoke, too afraid of sparing a glance to Fred as he carried on.

“We’re spilt into two teams and each team gets a vial and a card.” He held up each object to demonstrate, the vial was quite large, barely able to fit his hand as he placed it on the table and the card looked blank. Fred’s eyes met yours briefly as you looked at the objects, a hitch in his breathing letting you know he hadn’t seen it coming. George waited for his brother to say the next line before realizing he was looking at you, too busy staring at your now down casted face as George took over.

“The card will ask whoever’s holding it a question, and you have to answer truthfully, otherwise you have to do the dare that’s written on the back.” Fred seemed to snap out of his trance in the middle of George’s instructions, shifting in his seat as he kept his eyes off you for the time being. “Whenever you answer a question truthfully, part of the vial fills up. If you choose the dare instead, the vial doesn’t fill. The first team to answer enough questions to fill the vial completely, wins.”

Small sounds of intrigue went around the group and it seemed like everyone wanted to play the game. “How are we splitting us up?” Ron asked, glancing around the group. “Older versus younger?” He offered and you swallowed thickly. That would put you on a team with Fred, and you weren’t sure that’s what you wanted. Hermione, having seen your reaction to Ron’s suggestion, was the first to step in.

“How about girls versus boys, instead?” She offered. There were a few sounds of agreement, but when Hermione shot Ron and Harry a glare and flickered her eyes between you and Fred, Harry and Ron were suddenly more enthusiastic about the idea. Everyone moved, putting the girls together on one side of the table and the boys on the other.

“Thank you.” You whispered to Hermione and she squeezed your hand under the table. She might be 2 years younger than you, but Hermione has always been easy to talk to, especially in the last few weeks.

The twins got the game started, using Harry as the first person to answer a question. The question he had to answer was simple: What’s your favorite dessert?

“Treacle tarts.” Harry answered immediately and you had to hold back a chuckle, remembering all the times you’ve seen him stuff his face with them. The boy’s vial started to fill slowly from the bottom, a blue liquid inside that you all furrowed your brows at.

“What is that?” Angelina asked from next to you.

Fred and George shared a look and a smile as the they answered her together. “Magic.” Everyone chuckled at them, including you. You knew they wouldn’t say, gotta have their secrets. What you weren’t aware of, was Fred watching as you laughed, the slight tug of his heart when he heard the sound he’d grown to miss.

The questions kept coming, each group taking turns answering them as the vials slowly filled up. A few people had opted for taking dares as the questions became harder to answer. George, for one, was dared to change into girl clothes for the rest of the game and you took him upstairs, throwing him a few of your clothes to wear. Needless to say, it was quite entertaining for everyone as he came downstairs with you in tow and the whole group laughed, including the boy himself. Harry was dared to sprint down to the Slytherin Common room and back 3 times, and Angelina was dared to perform a song for the group, which George immediately complained about the unfairness of the dares in his own product. You had answered quite a few questions yourself, ones like: Your favorite place in the world or what’s the most illegal thing you’ve ever done. The girls’ vial was almost full as Hermione answered her most likely final question, leaving enough room for one last person, which much to your luck, was you. You sat with a smile, everyone laughing as Ron opted out of answering his question, deciding spilling who his crush was wasn’t something he was going to do, despite the fact that everyone knew it was Hermione, who blushed as you poked her leg.

“Alright Y/N, you just need one more question to win it for the girls.” George said with a smirk as Hermione passed you the card. You stuck your tongue out at him, earning a laugh from everyone as George put his hands up. “Or you could take the dare like a chicken and let us prove once and for all that we’re better.” The boys cheered in a friendly fashion as the girls booed, everyone sitting with a smile on their faces.

“Haven’t taken a dare yet, Weasley. Don’t plan on it now.” You shrugged with a cocky look before putting your hand to your chest. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask, how’s my jeans, chicken?” you asked, hearing Ginny clap as she laughed at her brother’s fallen face. Fred pulled your attention as he laughed at your question, seeing George shift awkwardly next to him. You quickly let your head drop again, wearing a fake smile as you tried not to look back up at him. It was harder to do than you thought.

“Read the card!” Ron laughed out, seeing the card had already scribbled a question on it.

“Okay!” Your grin turned real again as you started reading. “What is a song...” Everyone knew something was wrong the moment you stopped in the middle of the sentence and gulped, letting your smile fall off your face immediately. They all got quiet as they waited. “… that reminds you of being in love?”

Fred wasn’t sure he was breathing as you finished reading. You couldn’t spare him a glance, instead staring at the paper in front of you. Everyone was watching you, sharing looks with each other without any clue of what to do.

“You can do the dare, on the back.” Harry spoke up, pointing to the under side of the car. His words reminded you that you weren’t alone as you sucked in a breath, looking up to him and shook your head.

“No, it’s fine.” You didn’t know what fine meant, but you knew you were far from it. You tried to think, any song in the world that reminded you of being in love. The only problem was had only been in love with one person, and it ended with your heart broken. The only song you could think of was the one playing at the yule ball when Fred and you went together, the first time he ever told he loved you.

Does it remind of being in love if all it makes you feel is heartbroken?

“I don’t know.” You whispered, gently placing the card down on the table. Your eyes moved around everyone in the room before landing on Fred and neither of you looked away. “I don’t think I have one.”

Fred felt the sting behind his eyes as they met yours and he tried not to cry, not in front of everyone here during a game. A game that was supposed to be fun, a project he started 3 weeks ago to get his mind busy and off the breakup and here it was hurting him more.

The vial on the table slowly filled up as you turned to look, watching it change a light shade of purple as well, meaning your team won. No one celebrated. Instead you all sat there, frowns on your faces and you weren’t sure how long you could last before breaking down.

“Congratulations.” Fred said, keeping his voice low. “You guys win.” You knew he was speaking to your group, but if you had willed yourself to look at him one last time, you would’ve seen he was looking directly at you. He was gone the moment the words left his lips, running upstairs to his room. When you couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, you felt Hermione putting an arm around you and pulling you into her arms. You allowed her to console you, letting the tears fall freely as Angelina grabbed your hand and Ginny moved behind you to rub your back.

You didn’t feel like you won anything.

***

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[drabbles-mc]

Whatever It Takes

Juice Ortiz x Reader

Shoutout to @bishopslosawife​ for this idea! I am...passionate about Juan Carlos Ortiz:  What if a up-and-coming MC from another state stops in town for a night to discuss business but when they don't get want they want they take something/someone important to a SONs member as a leverage against the guys? I could see Juice going all overprotective of his s/o. 😍

Warnings: blood, language, murder, kidnapping, angst

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Honestly I would kill a man for Juice and I believe that he would do the same for me haha. Enjoy! xo

Taglist?? I realize that I don’t write a whole lot for SOA and when I do it’s always been Juice lol. That being said! If you’re interested in getting tagged in any future SOA or Juice fics please let me know!

The doors to the chapel flew open and a stream of very angry-looking men came storming out. You sat back at the bar, trying to make yourself as small as possible as most of them left the clubhouse. Once the Sons started filing out, you could see that none of them were looking overly excited about whatever had gone down during church either. Clay, Jax, and Tig were still in the chapel and you caught brief glimpses of their faces as they shut the doors once again, making it so it was just the three of them.

“Hey,” Juice appeared in front of you, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead, “it’s late, what are you still doing here?”

You smiled and shrugged, “Waiting for you. Didn’t think it was going to take so long.”

“Yea, it was a fuckin’ shitshow in there.”

“I figured. Those guys didn’t look happy.”

He chuckled, but you could see the exhaustion on his face, “They weren’t.”

You cupped his face, thumb tracing along his cheekbone for a moment, “Ready to go home?”

He nodded, leaning into your touch, “Absolutely.”

You hopped down off the barstool and pulled him with you towards the door of the clubhouse. He trailed behind you, and you let out a small yelp followed by a laugh when you felt him playfully smack your ass as you walked through the doors.

“Juan Carlos,” you feigned offence as you turned around, placing your hands on his chest, “there’s a time and a place for that.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist, “What’s wrong with here and now?”

You smiled, shaking your head as you leaned in and kissed him. His arms wrapped tighter around you, keeping you pressed flush up against him. Your hands slid up from his chest, fingers trailing lightly and quickly over his mohawk until they came to rest on the back of his neck. You could’ve stood there like that with him forever if it was possible.

He pulled his lips away from yours to catch his breath, but you could see a playful smile starting to spread across his face as he rested his forehead against yours, “I love you.”

You smiled, humming in approval, “I love you too. We gonna make it home tonight or are we crashing in your dorm?”

He laughed, nudging you towards his bike, “We’ll make it home, c’mon we can even take the bike. I’ll bring you back for your car in the morning.”

As the two of you made your way over, you heard someone call out for Juice from the opposite side of the parking lot. You both turned around, and you felt Juice’s body tense up a little bit as he stood directly in front of you, completely blocking you from whoever was talking to him.

“This ain’t over, you know,” the young man walked up to Juice, blowing out a billow of smoke as he spoke, “Better let your Pres know that.”

“Pretty sure you’re the one who should be letting him know,” Juice’s tone was even, but he kept one hand behind him, rested on your hip, “He’s still in church. Go talk to someone who actually has some sway.”

The man laughed, dropping what little was left of his cigarette on the ground between his feet and Juice’s, “Don’t say we didn’t warn you,” he looked over Juice’s shoulder and shot you a smile that was too much to be sincere, “You two have a good night.”

After the man walked off, getting onto his own bike and leaving the compound, you and Juice both let out sighs of relief. His body was still rigid as he turned back to face you, trying to search your expression to see if you were alright. You knew that things got dicey with the club—you’d had to clean Juice up on more than one occasion because of it, but it was different when you were experiencing the tension first-hand.

“You alright?” he gently cupped your face in both of his hands.

You nodded, “Yea. That was just…weird.”

“I know,” he sighed, “I’m sorry, baby, I just feel like I should probably go talk to Clay and them. You okay to drive home and I’ll meet you there in a little bit?”

“Yea, of course,” you kissed him softly on the lips, “I’ll text you when I get home. I love you.”

He smiled, “I love you too.”

He waited until you were off the lot before heading inside to talk to Jax and Clay about the brief little interaction he’d had out in the parking lot. More likely than not it was all talk, but there was never a guarantee of that.

You pulled into the gas station, mentally kicking yourself for putting off getting gas for so long. You wanted to be home but you wouldn’t have made it with what little was left in the tank. You went inside and prepaid, coming back out to the pump. You looked around as you filled your car, and everything seemed quiet.

You turned to put the nozzle back on the pump when you felt an arm wrap around your neck, a gloved hand coming to rest tightly over your mouth. Your entire body froze, and you wouldn’t have been able to try to fight or run if someone tried to pay you. The person pushed you up against your car, speaking to you in a low, harsh whisper.

“When I take my hand away, you’re not gonna scream. You’re going to get into this car and you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to, got it?”

You nodded, eyes wide with fear. When he took his hand away, though, something came over you and you let out a blood-chilling scream. The last thing you remembered was the man cursing and your head being slammed hard against the side of your car. Everything went black after that.

Juice was heading back out to his bike after talking with Jax and Clay. He hadn’t gotten any messages from you, which was a little worrying but it wouldn’t have been the first time you forgot. He dialed your number and called, figuring that if you were home and just forgot you’d pick up and the first words out of your mouth would be, “I forgot again, I’m sorry! I love you,” the way that they always were.

But there was no answer

He tried two more times and it was more of the same. Even if you had fallen asleep right away when you got home, the second or third call would’ve woken you up. He turned to head back inside when he saw Jax walking out of the clubhouse. He flagged him down.

“What’s up, brother?” Jax could see the worry on Juice’s face.

“It’s Y/N. I haven’t heard from her since she left. Tried calling and she didn’t pick up. You mind just riding with me out to her place to make sure she’s all good? It’s probably nothing but it’s not sitting right with me.”

He nodded as he clipped his helmet on, “Yea, sure thing.”

The two of them rode out to your house, and came to an empty driveway and no lights on inside. The knot in Juice’s stomach was growing as he parked his bike and hopped off of it. He yanked off his helmet, running his hand over his head as he turned back to Jax with worry all over his face.

“This isn’t right, Jax. She was coming straight home. Something must’ve happened to her.”

“Alright. Let’s think for a second here before we get too crazy.”

“What if it was that guy?” he saw the confusion on Jax’s face and elaborated, “Adam, or Aaron, or whatever the fuck his name was. The one who came up to us in the parking lot.”

He shook his head, “No way. Those guys are too green to be doing shit like that.”

“You sure about that? Gave you and Clay a run for your money during church tonight.”

The comment stung Jax’s ego a bit, but he had to admit that Juice raised a somewhat valid point. He sighed, “Alright. Call the guys, get ‘em all back to church. Let’s find this asshole and get your girl back.”

Juice immediately started calling everyone. Luckily it hadn’t been very long and everyone was more than willing to turn back around and head back to the clubhouse. Juice looked at your house as he dialed number after number, the darkness in the windows sending shots of fear up and down his spine.

Once everyone was back at the chapel, they started strategizing. They were trying to figure out where the most logical places would be for the men to have taken you, what they were going to ask for to secure your safe return. Throughout the whole thing, Juice’s eyes were glued to his phone, hoping to see your name light up the small screen of his phone.

“We can’t cave to all of their demands, though,” Clay said with a strong sense of finality.

Juice turned to look at the man sitting at the head of the table, “We’ll do whatever we fucking have to, to get her home.”

It wasn’t like him to speak that way to anyone, let alone Clay. The man shook his head, “Juice, I know that this is hitting you close to home but—”

“But nothing!” he stood up, “Not getting her back isn’t an option, Clay,” tears stung at his eyes but his anger was still apparent.

Before the argument could continue any farther, Juice’s phone buzzed on the surface of the table. His eyes went wide as he picked it up, seeing your name on the screen. He held his breath as he brought it up to his ear, “Hello?”

“Go glad you picked up, Juan Carlos,” the man chuckled.

“What the fuck did you do to—”

“She’s fine…for now. But I’m going to need you and the president of your club to agree to some things if you want to make sure she stays that way.”

“Prove it,” he snapped.

“Prove what?”

“Prove that she’s alright. How do I know that you didn’t already do something to her?”

The man chuckled but he complied. Juice heard your pained tone coming through from the other end of the line, “Juan?! Juan what the fuck is going on?”

He felt a sob locked in his throat, “Y/N, baby, we’re coming to get you, alright? You’re gonna be fine I promise.”

Neither of you got the chance to say anything more before you heard the man’s voice on the other end of the line again. “There’s your proof. Your president knows what needs to happen if you’re going to see her again. You have two hours to meet our terms or you’re never going to see your girlfriend ever again.”

“I swear to god if you fucking hurt her—” he didn’t get to finish the sentence before the man hung up on him. He shook his head, slamming his fist against the table, “Fuck!”

He stormed out of the chapel and came flying back in a minute later, laptop tucked under his arm. He sat down heavily in his chair before opening the computer and pulling up numerous windows. The guys looked on in silence, knowing that they had nothing to offer him at this point.

Jax looked over his shoulder, “What’re you doing?”

“Getting a trace on her phone’s GPS.”

“She doesn’t use the burners?”

Juice shook his head, like it was the most obvious answer in the world, “No, she doesn’t have to because she’s not a fucking criminal,” he sighed as his fingers flew across the keyboard, “I’m willing to bet that these guys were too stupid to think about that, though.”

The couple of minutes of silence while the computer programs tracked her phone seemed to stretch on for an eternity. They all looked back and forth among themselves, hoping they were going to get the answers that they wanted. After what felt like hours, they were rewarded with a quick beeping sound.

Juice immediately started rattling off the address to the entire room. He was already walking towards the chapel doors as the rest of them tried to piece together where exactly they were going.

“Abandoned warehouses out off the main drag behind the old logging place,” Juice said as he continued to leave.

They nodded, impressed that he knew it off the top of his head like that. His brain was working overtime, though. Anything to keep you safe. The guys followed him, grabbing their guns as they went. They had no idea what they were walking into but they were going to be prepared.

Juice didn’t bother waiting for the rest of the club. He was fully prepared to go into this entire situation alone despite the fact that he knew he wouldn’t have to. He sped out of the lot, forcing the rest of them to play catchup. His mind was reeling and all he knew was that he couldn’t lose you. you were the one thing that he got right and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. No matter what it took, you were getting home safely.

He rolled into the lot, followed shortly by the rest of the MC. They all got off their bikes, getting their weapons ready. There were a few buildings to choose from, and Juice was looking to see if any of them had any signs of life in them.

“Middle one, top window,” Opie broke the silence, nodding towards the building he was talking about.

Juice looked, and he was a mixture of relieved and anxious when he saw that Opie was right. At least it meant that you were there. He just hoped that they weren’t too late.

“Hey,” Jax’s voice was quiet, but firm, “you shouldn’t be the first one in on this.”

“Fuck that,” he shook his head, refusing to be benched for this.

“You’re angry. Angry makes you stupid and stupid gets you killed. You can’t be lead on this.”

Juice stood toe-to-toe with the VP, “You can’t fucking stop me.”

He wasn’t yelling, but he didn’t need to raise his voice. His tone and the look in his eyes communicated everything. Jax sighed, nodding in defeat. If the roles were reversed, he knew he would be doing the same thing. Juice pushed past him and went towards the building, a few of the guys trailing close behind while a few more waited back in case anyone tried to leave.

They were silent as they entered the building, straining their ears to pick up on any noise. There was a mild clamoring coming from up the stairs. Juice turned to see Jax and Opie behind him, nodding for him to continue onward, that they had his back. With as little noise as possible they made their way up the stairs.

The door at the top was slightly ajar, light streaming through the crack. They could hear the laughter of the men who had you, but they couldn’t hear you. Juice’s heart was pounding inside his chest. He glanced back, using his fingers to count down before kicking the door completely open and storming in with Jax and Opie right on his heels.

The sight of you bound to a chair and gagged was enough to make Juice see red for a few moments. Tears were streaming down your face and he could see the fear in your eyes, the cut on your forehead caked in dried blood.

They all had guns pointed at each other, but your kidnappers were outnumbered two to three. And judging by the look in Juice’s eyes, he had enough rage in him for a few people.

Still, your captors forged onward like they were going to win this, “We told you this wasn’t over.”

Juice scoffed, cocking his gun, “You don’t let her go, the bullshit you have going on with Clay is going to be the least of your fucking problems. Believe me.” He could see you shaking your head, trying to urge him to stop and not make the situation worse, but he was too angry, “Let her go. She has nothing to do with this shit."

The man pressed his gun against your temple and you cried against the gag in your mouth, shutting your eyes tight. He laughed, “I’d lower that gun now if I were you.”

He shook his head, “You think you’re going to best the three of us?”

“You willing to bet her life on the fact that we won’t?”

The seconds of silence that followed felt never-ending. You still had your eyes shut tight, unable to force yourself to open them and take in the scene in front of you. If it ended badly, you didn’t want the last thing you saw to be something horrid.

The man pushed the gun harder against your temple and you winced as he spoke, “What’s it gonna be, then?”

There was another brief moment of silence but it was short-lived as the sound of gunshots filled the room. You cried, trying to make yourself as small as possible in the chair that you were in. You still couldn’t force yourself to open your eyes, knowing that the warm substance that just splattered across your face was blood and you didn’t want to know who it belonged to.

You felt someone pull at the gag in your mouth, and quickly cutting through the binds around your arms and legs. There was a hand softly put to your cheek, and the only thing that got you to open your eyes was the sound of Juice’s voice saying your name.

He was crouched in front of you, hand resting gently on your cheek as he waited for you to say or do something to indicate whether or not you were hurt. You couldn’t force any words out, so instead you leaned forward into him, head burying in the crook of his neck as you sobbed. He wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tight to him.

He cradled the back of your head in his hand, “It’s okay, you’re okay.” He turned back to Jax and Opie, “Go let the guys know what went down,” he paused, waiting for Jax to meet his eyes, “And tell Clay that he solves this shit tonight or I fucking will.”

You heard the sounds of their footsteps retreating out of the room. Juice pulled back from you so he could get a better look at you. You saw that you had smeared blood all over his neck and shirt. He saw the way your eyes went wide at the sight of it and instantly tilted your chin up so you were forced to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t even worry about that, alright?” his voice was soft, tears in his eyes as he looked at you, “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

You shook your head, finally making yourself speak, “No, nothing aside from my head.”

He let out a sigh of relief, “Thank god. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You never should have gotten caught up in this shit.”

“What’s gonna happen with…” your voice trailed off as you looked around the room, the carnage made your stomach turn.

Juice shook his head, “Don’t worry about that. It’ll all be taken care of,” he kissed you softly on the lips, “Let’s get you home and cleaned up. You able to ride?”

You nodded, “Yea, yea I’ll be okay.”

He scooped you up and carried you down the stairs of the warehouse. You clung tightly to him, you gripped his shirt harder than necessary, just needing the sensation of knowing that he was really there holding you. You buried your face against him, tears leaking out of your eyes and onto his neck and shirt. You heard the murmuring of the rest of the club as the two of you walked out of the warehouse, but you didn’t have the mental wherewithal to lift your head to look at or talk to any of them. In reality, you hardly heard what Juice was saying to them as he carried you over to his bike.

He gently placed his helmet onto your head and buckled it for you. He traced his thumb along your cheekbone, eyes filled with tears and love, and you wondered how he could still look at you like that when you had blood splattered across your face.

“I love you,” his voice was hardly a whisper.

“I love you too,” you practically melted into his touch.

He hopped on the bike in front of you and started to pull away. You wrapped your arms around his waist and settled against his back, shutting your eyes as you did. The only things you wanted to concentrate were the sound of his bike, the feeling of his body heat seeping from his back into your chest, and the thought of taking a shower and lying down in bed with him once you both got home. You let out a shaky breath as you squeezed your arms around him tighter for a moment, more thankful than ever that it was something that you were able to do.

[morifinwes]

Lauraa I finished all the fics, apart from decay (currently reading that now) and I love it sm! Especially the lip gloss one lmao the whole thing was so hilarious to me XD but also like the concept of lwj wearing lipgloss is >>> -yibobibo

@yibobibo then i'm going to rec you some more!! the lip gloss one was !!!!! ajsksks yes!! lwj wearing lipgloss is just so!! good!!

modern

this one is the painful one i talked about:

visitations by var_abelasan (12K, wip, divorced wangxian, post divorce, most of this is angst, uhm lowkey don't but also do want wangxian to end up together, it's messy, the jiangs & lans are shitty, wwx was in prison (brief mentions of that but it's kind of a major plot point), mxy & xy are the little brothers he never wanted but wwx picked them up anyways)

"Wei Ying-" Lan Zhan says, stutters, "I'm sorry." 

And now Wei Wuxian sees it, the red rimming Lan Zhan's eyes, the rumpled edges of his blazer. There is an old, familiar urge for him to reach over, to hold Lan Zhan's hand and smooth his hair, to tell him that everything will be fine. 

"We're all a bit sorry about this, I think," he says instead, and finds that he means it. For Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji and everyone else in that Guanyin temple, the pain must be unbearably fresh, like skin just flayed open. But Wei Wuxian's chest had been cracked open a long time ago, his wounds licked and cauterized and sewn shut over five long years - Ever hurting, but a dull, constant ache, "It's really alright, Lan Zhan."

 

Five years after being accused of corporate espionage and losing everything, the Guanyin Scandal breaks open and Wei Wuxian finds a familiar face at his door.

please don't let me be misunderstood by sysrae (3K, partly deaf!wwx, lwj notices, nobody else does though, idk wwx is like made out of fucking steel or some shit)

Lan Wangji has known Wei Ying for a fortnight, the first time he sees him get hit by a car.

light by redkosmos (10K, blind!lwj, which causes angst, but they manage it, best friends to lovers, fluff, lwj being insecure and feeling like a burden, college au kind of? but it doesn't matter too much)

The realization slowly dawns on him.

He can never again see the brightness of Wei Ying's eyes, the way they crescent when he smiles, never again see the rich black of his hair, the mess of it in the early mornings, never again see the beautiful tan of his skin, the beauty of the scars and marks adorned on it, how he wears his clothes, how it hugs his frame beautifully, how he looks like he's adorably swimming in cloth when he wears Lan Zhan's, and-

(Lan Zhan loses his vision in a car accident and learns to cope with it.)

don't leave me by trippinonskies (19K, brief very brief mention of lwj cheating, he doesn't but wwx is afraid lwj is cheating on him or just wants to break up with him, (he doesn't), marriage proposal, lwj acting distant = wwx's insecurities show up, fluff, angst and comfort)

Lan Zhan! Where are you lost today?” Wei Wuxian finally asks, at the end of his patience.

Lan Zhan looks a little guilty as he looks at Wei Wuxian, “Sorry, just a lot of work to deal with.”

Lie.

If there is one thing Lan Zhan can’t do, it’s lying. Especially to Wei Wuxian. But he doesn’t question Lan Zhan. He just accepts the reply, too scared to know that he is right. Too scared to know the truth.

// or where Lan Zhan is too hung up in planning the perfect proposal and ends up accidently ignoring Wei Wuxian making the other think that he wants to break up //

want you closer by xiaobucephalus ((3K, HORSES, only in the background tho, but wwx is an equestrian vet, which is so fucking valid bro, the lans own horses, a sick bunny, lwj the bunny parent!, super cute, dark bay throughoutbred chenqing is honestly so valid)

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Don’t thank me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying laughed again, his voice warming the chill of fear that had settled in his chest. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to get into your hutch for a while anyway.”

safe in your thoughts by anonymous (20K, it's a cherry magic au???? (i haven't watched it, but you have i think?), horny lwj but only for wwx (always for wwx))

Wei Wuxian learns three very important things on the night of his twenty-seventh birthday.

One, that Lan Wangji is ridiculously funny, which Wei Wuxian had known before but what Wei Wuxain hadn’t expected was Lan Wangji to be funny at his brother’s expense.

Two, that Wei Wuxian had finally gone mad, absolutely mental at the ripe age of twenty seven because nothing else would explain the third thing he had learnt.

Third, and the most unbelievable of the lot, that Lan Wangji wants to fuck him.

iura by yoo_im_finally_writing (1K, only added bcs op is right and wwx would've the cutest german accent, it's more fun if you understand german so hit me up if you want translations for the german sentences)

Wei Ying calls in the middle of the night to talk about German law, and Lan Zhan tries very hard not to fall asleep. Or at least, not to let Wei Ying notice he's falling asleep. (As best friends do.)

breathe in the air, the last of its kind by wereworm / @neverdoingmuch (27K, getting together, jealous!lwj, but also kind of supportive, brief mention of cheating bcs of miscommunication, no actual cheating tho, college au, lwj pov)

Following Wei Ying’s line of sight, Lan Wangji can barely prevent a smile from crossing his lips when he sees the short row of rabbit statuettes placed at the front of the display. Silver, with bright gems for eyes, they look elegant yet lively and animated.

“A-Yuan would love one of those,” Wei Ying murmurs, almost as if to himself.

Lan Wangji frowns; the rabbits, while cute, don’t seem like a suitable gift for Wei Ying’s A-Yuan.

...

It’s only when he glances back at the rabbits and notices what has been placed on display behind them, that the pieces fall into place. They’re engagement rings, there’s no doubt about it. Lan Wangji feels his heart sink – Wei Ying isn’t just dating A-Yuan, he wants to propose to him.

Or: the five times Lan Wangji thinks that A-Yuan is Wei Ying’s boyfriend and the one time he learns the truth.

paint smears on sunny days by snowshadowao3 / @angstsexual (53K, getting together, art teacher!wwx, single parent!lwj, they're rich if i remember right, wwx & lwj are both good with kids!!!, this is so good actually, fluff)

To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

He comes close, though.

By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

“Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.

(Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

no bunny compares by gusucloudbunny (4K, god this is cute, fluff)

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian cornered his friend one week before his birthday. “If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

Lan Wangji furrowed his brow at Wei Wuxian, not exactly sure how to answer that question in a truthful manner that didn’t involve confessing his undying love for his best friend.

Wei Wuxian is on a mission to get Lan Wangji the perfect gift for his birthday. What Wei Wuxian doesn't know is that the only thing Lan Wangji truly wants is him.

wei wuxian's week of realizing things by photojenny (12K, i have read this multiple times, i always forget what happens, idk why but my notes say it's good, the tags say drunkji makes an appearance and i'm always up for that)

"Lan Zhan, do you like Mianmian?" asked Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji blinked, and stared. It was not the first time Lan Wangji had questioned the perceptiveness of the boy he had a crush on. Wei Wuxian had been smart in the class they had taken together. Yet time and time again, Wei Wuxian had tested the old wisdom that there are no stupid questions.

---

Lan Wangji must figure out how to confess when Wei Wuxian is the most oblivious person he's ever met.

are you my wisdom tooth? because i'd like to take you out by yellowcarnations (1K, crack, fluff, lwj stop flirting with a stranger, even if he is your husband, drunkji but make it to max level)

Lan Zhan wakes up and he has no idea where he is.

There are bright lights and his jaw hurts, he doesn't who this man next to his bed is but oh he might be in love, maybe, probably, definitely.

–

based off that guy-forgets-who-his-wife-is-and-hits-on-her vid but its wangxian.

beep! goes his heart by wearing_tearing (3K, fluff, lwj is like "he, he likes me right? he likes me" and everyone is like "yes, yes he does")

“Wei Ying’s heart monitor,” Lan Wangji starts.

Wen Qing blinks at him. “Yes?”

“It beeps.”

“That’s… what they generally do, yes.”

“The beeps change,” Lan Wangji continues, “when others are around.”

*

Wei Ying’s heart only sings for Lan Wangji.

canon

obedient and bellicose by thunderwear (19K, lwj is cursed by the lan elders, they notice too late, fix-it fic kind of?, lqr being a good uncle and lxc is a good brother, wwx accidentally uses the curse but he doesn't know about it)

It took Lan Wangji a long time to realize he was cursed. Too long really, anyone else would have noticed so much sooner. The problem was, he liked following the rules.

Ella Enchanted AU that no one needed but I wanted.

hello my old heart, how have you been? by ravenditefairylights (10K, amnesia, fluff, wwx taking care of lwj, so much fluff and softness, angst too but not that much)

The issue is, Lan Wangji brings his thoughts back before they stray too far, that it is impossible for someone to be in his bed, unless Lan Wangji himself invited them. He has not. He would remember doing so, and besides, all his night clothes are still on and there is no headache to imply that he was inebriated last night. No, the situation is simple.

There is someone in Lan Wangji’s bed. It is impossible for anyone to be in Lan Wangji’s bed, and yet that doesn’t seem to have stopped the stranger.

or lan wangji wakes up, and wei ying is there. he doesn't understand how or why, and he can understand even less why his hallucination of wei ying is so insistent on bathing him, and braiding his hair, on holding him and fixing his clothes. why the hallucination of wei ying seems so happy to see him.

teach me the way by likeafox (58K, rogue cultivator!wwx, horny wangxian, lwj wants wwx to teach him how to be a good lover, ....wwx is a virgin, the porn is the plot, but there's less of it than i thought)

"I do not wish to leave my future spouse… dissatisfied with my intimate knowledge,” Lan Zhan says, very seriously. “I am hoping to find an instructor, to better prepare myself for such matters."

Wei Ying feels his mouth drop open. He's pretty sure the Second Jade of Lan just told him he's a virgin who wants to learn how to do sex good.

Rogue Cultivator Wei Wuxian is the stuff of local legends. Some of those legends are even true! The ones about his tremendous experience in bed, on the other hand, are not so true. Which becomes a problem when Lan Wangji, on the verge of an arranged marriage and worried he won’t know how to please his future spouse, enlists Wei Ying's help to teach him the art of love-making. Wei Ying's great at improvisation, though, and is pretty sure he's got this sex mentor thing under control. What could possibly go wrong

other aus

of god: my love unholy by tunnelodfawn (3K, tw blood / war, dark!lwj, god!wwx, kind of poetry)

Lan Zhan takes everything as a sign from his god. The blood staining his fingertips—a holy anointment. He sanctifies himself through blood. The strings of his guqin gleam red in the sun—a divine blessing. This is an instrument of destruction. A single note—a cry of power—and in this note the voice of his god unravels the earthly threads tethering man to earth.

The Yiling Patriarch blesses Lan Zhan with war. Wei Wuxian blesses Lan Zhan with agility. Wei Ying blesses Lan Zhan with love.

The base of the Yiling Patriarch’s shrine is the home of Lan Zhan’s knees. He worships. There is something of the blasphemous and the unholy in his prayers. He prays not for victory but for the sight of Wei Ying. Bless me with your presence, he begs.

Or, wherein, Lan Zhan bridges the gap between the mortal and the divine—the worshipper and the god—with blood.

the river and the sea by sasamelons / @sasamelons (7K, soulmate au, arranged marriage (wangxian with each other), they're both kind of dumb but i love it)

Lan Wangji gritted his teeth, wishing to just be left alone. "I am looking for my soulmate," he ground out.

"Oh."

It took Lan Wangji a few moments to realize that Wei Wuxian had stopped following him. When he looked back, the other boy seemed to be frozen to the spot, eyes wide and lips still parted. He quickly looked away when he saw Lan Wangji looking back. "I see. Well, have a good trip!"

--

At six years old, Lan Zhan met his soulmate on the streets of Yiling and promptly lost him again.

At sixteen years old, Lan Wangji met his betrothed and was determined not to like him.

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 5/8

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 5/8 WORD COUNT: 3,900+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity| cigarette smoking | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | drug use SPOILERS: n/a STATUS: COMPLETED

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The autumn winds heralded more clement weather, carrying the tart scent of peaches and pine in the air. With the balmier weather, everyone in the estate had taken their opportunity to be outdoors. Nanami himself had been dragged out and was walking with everyone who cared to go to the private orchards when at breakfast, the groundskeeper announced that everyone can go peach picking.

He watched from across the table as the object of his attraction visibly lit up, your glorious blue eyes brightening exponentially. You loved peach picking and he loved seeing you all excited over small things. But it turned out to be something of a disappointment when your attention turned to Geto instead of him, inviting him to go with you.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” you asked expectantly, giggling like a little girl when Geto nodded, placing an arm over your shoulder and hugging you to his side while he said, “Anything for my favorite girl.”

My favorite girl. He had to stop himself from being petty and scoffing at the very thought of it. His annoyance was further validated when you generalized your invitation, saying anyone who wished to could come, voiced out by Yuuji who pouted at you and said you should have been inviting him since he loved picking peaches as much as you did.

That was just how it was with you when it comes to Geto. You forget everyone around you the moment he makes an appearance, and it seemed Nanami wasn’t an exception. He could accept that in the past. Ever since, you had been vocal about your preference for the dark-haired man who spoiled you to no end, letting you have your way and without fail made you smile and laugh like you never do with anyone else. When their group would go out, travel or do something else recreational, you’d always be where Geto was, dangling by his arm. You mellowed out with him when you met Yuuji, but the truth is that Geto Suguru is your favorite among your older brother’s friends.

This time, however, he couldn’t rest easy with you interacting that way with said male. If he was being honest, he only agreed to go peach picking after Gojo made him tag along because he wanted to keep a close eye on you. He was also being obvious about it with the way he was trailing you with his eyes every other five seconds, the realization dawning into him when Shoko walked beside him, grinning as she took a long drag from her cigarette.

“If you want to be with her, just do it,” the woman told him, easily reading him as usual. “You look like you’re about to blow your top.”

Nanami just glanced at you, his eyes involuntarily flicking to your familiar figure now circling around Geto as you walked, your hands and arms animatedly making big gestures as you seemingly explained something to him. He felt his temper rise when the male grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him so he could wrap an arm around you, his dark eyes finding Nanami over his shoulder in a sly taunt.

Shoko clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “We all know, Kento.” She glanced behind her where Gojo and Utahime were walking. “Only that white-haired idiot seems to know nothing. Or he pretends not to know.” She sighed. “I can’t blame him though. She used to be this really cute bundle of joy, but look at her now. She’s a grown woman.”

He couldn’t disagree with that. He knew exactly just how much of a woman you have become physically and mentally. What he doesn’t understand was why you weren’t walking with him instead while you’d be sneaking around with him, stealing kisses and hugs from him since the previous day when the pair of you returned from the lake.

At the rehearsal the previous night, you had stuck to him like glue, not that he minded. You purposefully touched him even when everyone was watching, running your fingers over his arm, leaning against him while everyone waited for their turn to practice their part for the ceremony and holding his hand while he sat with you in the garden during breaks, all the while feigning innocence to your actions. You even went to the extent of wrapping an arm around his waist while Gojo was speaking to you. The man, obviously aggravated, narrowed his eyes at you before turning on his heels and leaving.

“God, he’s so frustratingly dumb,” you muttered under breath, watching him leave. Only you had the guts (and right if Nanami was being honest) to call your brother dumb. It somehow made Nanami think that you were really just doing things to get a rise out of Gojo for whatever reason or whatever complex you had with him, but what confused him was that you didn’t stop even if your male clone wasn’t looking.

It was no different at the dinner that followed at the restaurant the family had rented for the night. You purposefully said you forgot something, declaring that you will be riding with Nanami instead, tossing your car keys to Megumi who saluted him while snickering with Nobara. Yuuji, being the most annoying of your three friends, deliberately bumped against him and said, “Make the most of it, Nanamin.”

He would have smacked the boy at the back of his head if the conniving little sprite dragging him around didn’t pull him towards his car. “Wait for them to leave,” you told him as you boarded his car.

“I thought you forgot something.” His lips quirked upwards, already realizing what you were playing at, but before he could say anything more, you grabbed him by the collar, silencing him with your lips. That ended up with you two being half an hour late to dinner after that one kiss turned into a full-on make-out session in his car with you sitting astride his lap while he kissed you stupid.

When both of you finally got to the restaurant, he expected you to let go of him, but you boldly walked with him to your designated seats, holding onto his hand as you led the way. He did not miss the way your parents were looking at the two of you, but he pretended not to notice. Your father was rather approving which was a relief but your mom was just confused. He could just surmise that your friends were in on it when you ended up sitting on the same table, reserving two seats for him and you, further proven when you exchanged high-fives with Nobara who, in turn, winked at Nanami. Of course, he thought, they knew.

You engaged in conversations with your friends for most of the duration of the dinner, but you never failed to smile his way or wink at him when you think no one’s watching. You didn’t ride home with him since he had to drive stupid Gojo after he got too drunk to function and instead drove your car with your pals. You and your friends didn’t come back for another hour, but when you got home, you rifled through the house, loudly asking everyone where he was.

Nanami had to suppress laughter as he crossed the foyer on his way to the stairs and saw how you pushed past Suguru to make your way towards him, latching onto his arm and announcing to everyone that you will walk him to his room cause he might get lost. You had giddily stuck to what you said you’ll do when he noticed how your eyes were bloodshot and you had that odd smile on your face.

“Sweetheart, are you high?” he asked, gently holding you at arm’s length. He already knew the answer to his question when he caught a whiff of weed on your hair. Typically, he’d scold you, but the way you were tittering for no reason was just too adorable for him to handle.

“Don’t be mad,” you said to him, attempting to pout, but you couldn’t in your state. You then started poking his cheek that he eventually had to hold your hands away from him. When you finally stopped laughing, you blinked up at him and said, “I want you to kiss me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice as he pulled you to a side hallway, pushing you against the wall, giving you a peck. You whined loudly. “You call that a kiss?” you complained.

“Be specific, love. How do you want me to kiss you?” he teased, leaning his forehead against yours, trying hard not to laugh as he held you back, preventing you from touching him. He was already aware of how you could easily take the reins and dominate him.

You smirked at him. “Kiss me dumb. Pretty please with a cherry on top, Kento?” You seemed to have discovered that calling him by his given name has become his weakness, and you succeeded because in the next second, he was all over you, prying your mouth open with his tongue as he pressed you against the wall with his body. You submitted to his touches, pulling him closer, your sensuous lips and the sweet flavor of your tongue driving him insane. Before he lost control, he walked you back to your room, defeating the purpose of you walking him to his.

But now, he had to watch you being monopolized by Geto.

He sighed. He could trust Shoko to shed off pretenses for once.

“You okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “I know she’s really fond of Suguru, but I can’t help but –” What was it that he felt exactly?

“You’re jealous. It’s natural especially when she was all clingy with you yesterday.” She chuckled. Shoko couldn’t have been more right, but the scene playing out before him was the least of his problems. It ran deeper than just the moment at hand.

Nanami promised to keep it a secret as Geto’s friend although it killed him a thousand times when three years ago, just a week before the time he had to haul you out of a bathtub after your cocaine episode, the male came to him, confiding that he wanted to pursue you romantically.

“Good luck on that,” he remembered telling Geto, feeling that same pang of envy pervading his system, but then the latter said, “It’s just that she said she likes someone else.” He looked at Nanami sharply as if he was angry at him for some reason, but retracted to his easy-going mood. “Forget I said anything. I can’t have her.”

“Why is that?” Nanami asked then.

At that, Geto smiled, sadness crossing his features. “I don’t deserve her.”

At odd to his words three years ago, Geto was as close to you as ever. You’re obviously still very fond of him. Still, Nanami wasn’t sure what the intention was behind Geto’s calculated actions. The man was just as aggravating as you are with your mutual penchant for games and keeping people on their toes.

Shoko stole him back from his reverie. “Just put a label on it already. She likes you, too, you know.”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“Seriously?” She burst out laughing then. “Men are such dense creatures.”

“That’s offensive.”

“So is your obliviousness.”

“What does that even mean?”

She shook her head, her laughter dissipating. “Talk to her and find out.”

**

“I saw what you were doing with Kento last night.”

You looked at Geto who was walking beside you, not really knowing how to respond to his observations and settling for twirling the wicker basket you were holding. He flashed you a knowing smile, already used to your behavior when you were puzzling something in your head, caught up in your own bubble.

“I’m not as frustrated about Nanamin as much as I am with Satoru.” You sighed, remembering how your brother just walked away when he saw you holding onto Nanami, annoyed as if he thinks you were just trying to rile him up. “He’s so dense with things like this.”

“You’re one to talk,” Geto stated frankly, snickering at your appalled reaction. “On a more serious note, why?”

Letting up on your scowl, you said, “Well, he’s being a bitch about how I never tell him anything anymore. He asked whether I liked Nanamin and what was going on when I was being very obvious. I kissed the man in front of him, for heaven’s sake.”

“Sweetie, that’s not straightforward at all. You know yourself better than anyone, and seriously, even I get all confused as to whether you’re just messing with everyone, not to mention that you’re so erratic that we just don’t know what to expect from you.” Geto eyed you placatingly, letting you know that he was being earnest.

You easily laugh and smile because of him, but he just as easily offends your by being so brutally straightforward. You’re realizing that now that he was acting more like your older brother, and you knew you couldn’t get offended when you wanted assurance. “I just want to include him all the time but his reactions are so fucking infuriating. He treats me like a kid crushing on his friend if anything.”

“So, why not talk to him about it?”

“I don’t want to sit down and talk to him about it as if I’m asking for permission or approval. I love Satoru to smithereens – don’t tell him that – but he doesn’t get a say about what I want in life especially not where the people I date are concerned especially since he seems to have an aversion to me being attracted to any of you guys ever since I turned twelve.”

Geto chortled. “So you’ve been crushing on Kento since you were a kid?”

You made a face at him, punching him on the arm. “No, idiot. I liked you first.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

You momentarily stopped walking. “Yes, but then I found out what a womanizer you are but I won’t even venture into that. I’m not really fond of martyrdom,” you deadpanned.

Not even hiding his affront, he walked back to your spot and flicked you on the forehead. “I’m very offended you’d say that to me!”

“It’s true though.” You laughed, reaching over to squish his face before walking around him in circles. “If you think I’ll cry over your pretty face, you couldn’t have been more mistaken. Besides, I don’t want to share.”

“Now you’re just being a jerk.” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning insult. “I’m hurt, baby.”

“You deserve it for kissing that cheap model wannabe in front of me on your first runway show.”

“My, my. Your tongue’s loose today. Tell me more.”

“I settled for thinking I’ll just steal you from Satoru to be my best friend. Well, that’s before I met Yuuji. I guess I was just really jealous of what you and Satoru had. I wanted everything he had anyway until I realized that’s now how it works and there were things about me he couldn’t have either. Makes it fair.” You chuckled, finally making it in front of him. “Like that personalized plush bear you gave me on my eighteenth birthday. Man, that was huge.”

Laughing with you, he held onto your arm, pulling you close to him, glancing behind him.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, still giggling.

“Your boy toy would have killed me with those looks he’d been throwing at my direction since breakfast,” Geto whispered to you, making you look over your shoulder, too. There, you found Nanami, looking so breathtakingly gorgeous with the rakish way his hair had been styled and his chiseled physique outlined by the long-sleeved running top he had on. He’s been dressing more casually recently much to your satisfaction.

“Don’t call him that, He’s not my boy toy.” You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. “Sometimes, I have to stop myself from jumping his bones.”

It was Geto’s turn to make a face at you. “Sweetheart, I love you, but don’t say those things to me. Anyway, are you two together now?”

You tensed slightly and shook your head. “That’s up to him.”

“What?” He scoffed. “In case you’re not aware, you’re a prize. Don’t go doing all the work.”

“I know.”

“He should fight for it, too, if he wants you.”

“So Yuuji says.”

“He’s right.” Geto stopped walking, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You know I love you right?”

You nodded, poking fun at him. “More than your hoes, I hope.”

He clucked his tongue, rolling his eyes at you. “I’m being serious here. You may think I’m a hedonistic bastard who only thinks about getting laid all the time, but you’re a different story, sweetheart. I treasure you like Satoru does, and if I see something wrong, it’s my duty to tell you.”

Seeing the somber look on his face, your smile dropped. “What are you getting at?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he began. “Kento is a good man, better than Satoru and I combined to tell you the truth. But when it comes to things like this, he has the tendency to be indecisive.”

Your heart dropped, feeling nervous all of a sudden as your eyes widened in fear at the prospect. “Are you saying he doesn’t like me?”

“Honey, he loves you. I know so.” He snorted. “Bastard can’t even resist you anymore by the looks of it, but trust me when I say he’s going to over-analyze things because there are so many things to consider instead just going for it.”

“You mean Satoru?” you griped.

“One of them anyway.”

“O…kay.” You pouted in perplexity. “How would you advise me to proceed?”

Geto finally let up on the seriousness, bursting out laughing. “The gods are fair, aren’t they?”

Understanding why he was laughing, you punched him on the arm again. “I know I’m dumb at this, but at least try acting like the older, more mature one here. You should be flattered I’m coming to you for shit like this at all.”

Still laughing, he pulled you close and hugged you, planting a chaste kiss on the top of your head. When he was calm enough, he breathed out and squeezed you tighter. “Talk to him and be direct about it.”

**

You decided to approach Nanami when you spotted him alone under one of the trees, reading a book. The forgotten basket of peaches beside him, only half-filled, was indicative that he forgot about the activity at hand and is in his own world again. You adored his quiet side, the way he kept to himself, unafraid to be alone and always comfortable in his solitude, so much so that you hesitated to disturb him.

Quietly, you stalked towards him, making sure not to make any sudden sounds, but being him, he was immediately able to perceive your presence.

"You have a very dark taste in literature as a child," Nanami spoke when you’re within earshot, sensing your presence.

You frowned, sitting beside him, confused at first but upon seeing your battered copy of "Coraline" sitting on his lap, you understood what he meant. "Where did you find that?"

"In the library." He finally met your gaze, his expressions unfathomable. "I remembered you gushing about it when you first read it."

You nodded in understanding, but couldn't quite keep your mind in the conversation, plagued with thoughts of what Geto told you earlier. He was saying something about your fascination for the horror genre, but you cut him short, saying, "Can I ask you something?"

Nanami tilted his head slightly at the question, his quizzical gaze prompting you to proceed.

"What are we?" you blurted out, your blue eyes quite unable to meet his dark ones. You don't exactly know what was making you behave with such uncertainty. After all the times you had been confident where he was concerned, you were suddenly scared. You didn't fear being rejected by anyone. It has always been the case for you since you’re younger, but you were afraid of not knowing, of not being sure.

Nanami looked at you, deep in thought for a few moments until he finally told you, "That's up to you, isn't it?" His tone had a bite to it.

Unable to place where he was coming from at the moment, you hesitated. You rummaged through your head about what his response to you could imply, frowning when you came up with nothing. "What?" you said, thinking it better to ask.

"You heard me." He shrugged, opening the book to the page he was reading. By the looks of it, he was trying his best to ignore you.

You fought the urge to pose barb at him, too, wanting nothing but to get a straight response from him. "Why is it up to me?" You totally didn't understand, thinking it ought to be a decision the pair of you should make. Wasn’t that how it worked?

Silently cursing at the whole situation, you contemplated on your past relationships. All of them seemed less complicated. They liked you, you liked them. You decide to date, and when things don’t work out, the arrangement is broken off. High school and college boys were irritating to say the least, but you were expecting it to be a lot more straightforward with Nanami because he’s a mature adult. Now it seemed like you were in one of those previous relationships again.

“Elaborate on that,” you prompted him, seriously at a loss.

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is this another game of yours?"

To say you’re appalled by his odd line of questioning was an understatement. Unable to control your emotions anymore, you stood up. "What are you talking about?" You burst out laughing without mirth. For once, you’re being direct with what you wanted. For once, you weren't playing and yet all you get are questions being thrown at you.

"Go play with Suguru. He seems to enjoy your antics more than anyone," he told you coldly.

"What are you on about?" you demanded from him. “I’m asking you a simple question.”

Nanami flashed you a tired smile. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He also stood up, obviously exasperated. "Look, I honestly don't know what we are. I'm not sure." He sighed when you eyed him in disappointment but that expression turned into icy indifference very quickly.

"You don't know," you repeated, nodding. "Okay. I see how it is."

For the first time in years, you felt stupid, so much so that you felt like tearing all the hair off your scalp. You didn't understand what was wrong with Nanami but so many thoughts ran through your head at the same time. You thought you might have asked too early. You thought maybe you read things between the two of you wrong. On top of all that, you felt so overwhelmed with anger over his response that you couldn't think straight, but you were also afraid of saying anything else in case your inner demon decides to jump out.

Turning away, you started walking away. You heard him call your name but you didn't look back, suppressing the urge to go back to him and instead storming out of the orchard. You didn't understand what the dull ache in your chest meant but you knew you couldn't handle it.

-end of part 5-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S “JUJUTSU KAISEN.” [20210731]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[arcticguk]

santa baby | knj

❅ pairing, au, warnings: kim namjoon x reader, fluff, allusions to smut, angst, emotionally and verbally abusive parents, swearing, fake dating au, best friends to lovers au, christmas au

❅ précis: you ask namjoon to be your pretend boyfriend for the holidays.

❅ word count: 4,667

❅ part of my holiday drabble series

❅ a/n: pls lmk if u need me to tag anything extra! i put stuff in the warnings, but do not hesitate to tell me if it’s not enough. also we’re gonna ignore the fact that this fic is so much longer than any of my other xmas ones :)

“Namjoon, please?”

“No.” He says firmly, shoving another spoonful of noodles into his mouth. “If this is the only reason you invited me to dinner, I’ll stop coming.”

You snort, loudly. “Like that’ll ever happen. You can’t cook for shit.”

He frowns, setting his fork down beside his near-empty bowl. “And if I do this for you, what will I get in return?”

“Besides my lovely friendship?” You smirk, earning a glare from Namjoon. “I’ll make you dinner every night for a month.”

He presses his lips together, contemplating. “Sold!”

You roll your eyes playfully, flicking his forehead.

“Hey now!” He scolds. “Is that any way to treat your fake boyfriend?”

Your family was very big on appearance. They didn’t care that you sister and her husband practically hated each other, as long as they plastered on fake smiles and put on a good show in front of everyone. They didn’t care that your little brother and his boyfriend had been broken up for two months, they paid the boyfriend to come to a family event and pretend to be infatuated with your brother for one night.

You’d showed up solo to Christmas in the past, but according to your parents, this year was important. They were throwing a huge Christmas Eve party with all of their friends, coworkers, and extended family. They’d made it very clear that if you weren’t going to show up with someone, then you might as well just not show up at all.

And you knew you should just say fuck it and not go. That’s what your brother was doing, but deep down, as much as you hate to admit it, you still crave your parents’ validation and praise.

Namjoon knows how rocky your relationship with your parents is, that’s why he was so against the idea in the first place, but here you were, packing for a trip home with your ‘boyfriend’.

“Okay, we need a backstory.” Namjoon says from the passenger seat. Reaching for the coffee in your cupholder to steal a sip. “Like how we met and started dating.”

“Wait!” He perks up. “Do your parents know that we’re friends? Because then we could say we were friends and then fell for each other or—”

You cut him off with a sharp shake of your head. “No, they don’t know. I don’t tell them very much about what goes on in my life.”

“Okay.” He says softly.

You crack a smile, biting your lip to keep tears at bay, ones you didn’t even realize had formed.

“So, this backstory huh?”

Namjoon grabs both his duffel and yours, helping you shoulder your backpack as he does the same. You take a shaky breath before slamming the car door shut. Namjoon reaches for your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Five days,” He breathes in your ear. “You’ve got this.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks, pocketing your keys with your other hand. “Let’s go then?”

You and Namjoon make your way up the front walk, observing the perfectly decorated façade of the house, something you know your parents paid good money for. Before you can ring the bell, the door is yanked open, both your mother and father standing there to greet you.

“___!” Your mother chirps, pulling you in for a hug. She squeezes for a second before letting you go, prompting your father to do the same.

“And who is this handsome young man?” Your mother wonders.

“This is Namjoon.” You swallow. “My boyfriend.”

Your mother smiles, clasping her hands together underneath her chin. “Oh, how wonderful!” She squeaks. “You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.”

You shrug helplessly. “I wanted to surprise you!”

“And what a lovely surprise it is.”

“So, tell me again why we have to change for dinner?” Namjoon wonders, buttoning his grey shirt. You fluff your hair once more before turning to smirk at Namjoon.

“Because, everything in this family is an event.” You say sarcastically, giggling. He laughs, wiping his palms on his dress pants.

“You did great by the way,” You comment, sliding silver hoops into your ears. “I think they love you already.”

He looks at you, admiring the way your chiffon jumpsuit fits you, how great the black material looks against your skin.

“Joon?” You wonder, ripping him out of his daze.

“What? Oh, thanks.” He smiles.

“Hmm.” You grin, reaching up to fix a piece of his hair. He’d recently dyed it black and you were obsessed, you can’t get over how good it looks on him.

“You ready for dinner?” You wonder, reaching for his hand.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He sighs, pasting on a smile, gripping your hand tightly with his own.

As you make your way down the grand staircase, leading Namjoon, you smile with ease, surprised at the calm in your being. Family dinners always filled you with dread but having your best friend by your side seemed different, less scary.

When everyone is seated at the large, mahogany table, you start on your salad, taking a sip of water. For most of the meal, your parents focus their attention on Namjoon, peppering him with questions about his job, his education, and childhood.

Namjoon smoothly transitions the conversation back to your parents, wondering; “If ___ told you about her big promotion at work?”

Your mother’s gaze shifts to you, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “That’s great sweetheart, congratulations.” You smile at the praise, your face warming bashfully.

After dinner and dessert, you and Namjoon bid a goodnight to your parents, sister, and your brother-in-law, before heading up to your bedroom.

“Are family dinners,” Namjoon starts, tugging his shoes off, once your door is shut, “usually that tense?”

You nod solemnly, removing all your jewelry and pulling out the elastic from your hair. “You really impressed them though!” You exclaim. “And that’s not easy to do.” You mumble, looking down at your feet.

“I’m sure it is for you.” He laughs. How could your parents not be impressed by his beautiful, intelligent, kind, and brilliant best friend.

You shrug, pulling some clothes to sleep in from your bag. “I’m gonna change then the bathroom’s all yours.”

He nods, taking the opportunity to change into his own sleepwear, setting his watch on the dresser, and setting his phone on the charger.

When you emerge from the bathroom, clad in a hoodie and matching sweatpants, Namjoon smiles softly, switching with you so he can wash his face and brush his teeth.

When he exits the bathroom, you’re working your dinner outfit onto a hanger before placing it in the closet.

You flick the overhead lights off, turning on one of the bedside lamps to cast the room with a warm glow. Namjoon awkwardly stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He speaks up. You give him a look, arching an eyebrow.

“Joon, don’t be silly,” You comment. “It’s a king size bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He smiles, gingerly sliding into the bed, tugging the covers over his lap. You smile, doing the same, pulling out your phone to watch something while Namjoon opens a thick novel from his bag. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, each doing something separate while together. It’s not awkward, in fact just the opposite. The space surrounding you and Namjoon is comfortable, calm, and it feels nice.

Namjoon learns that breakfast is the only meal where it is acceptable to dress down. After informing him that pajamas, are in fact, allowed when he’d gone to get dressed. After you slide into your slippers, he wraps an arm around your waist, letting you drag him down the stairs just as you had the night before.

You and Namjoon are the first people to arrive at the table, so you scoot your chair extra close to his, giggling when he stumbles getting into his chair. His smile dimples his pink cheeks, a sight that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

Your head is nestled in the crook of his neck, cheeks warm with laughter, giggles escaping your lips at the story Namjoon finished telling you. Namjoon’s lips are parted in a wide grin, one arm flung loosely around the back of your chair, the other one resting on your thigh. When your laughter has subsided, you nuzzle further into his neck, sighing heavily. Namjoon’s hand cradles the back of your head, lips near your ear.

“You doin’ okay?” He wonders softly. You nod against his neck. You reach for his free hand, squeezing it tightly with your own.

“I’m fine.” You breathe. “Just a little on edge.”

He nods in understanding, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

It was not unusual for you and Namjoon to be affectionate with each other, but this morning, butterflies were flapping in your stomach, the way Namjoon is treating you borders on couple territory.

“Well look who’s up!”

The warm, soft atmosphere Namjoon had created for you, vanishes when you hear your mother’s voice, your shoulder’s tensing, head whipping around.

“Hi, hey, good morning.” You stumble, moving you chair back to its normal spot, putting some space between you and Namjoon.

“Good morning.” Namjoon greets with a dimpled smile. He reaches for your hand underneath the table, giving it a big squeeze.

You smile at the small show of affection and squeeze back.

Your parents wait until your sister and her husband have joined at the table, taking their seats directly across from Namjoon and you.

“Orchid!” Your mother says, speaking directly to your older sister. “You should’ve seen Namjoon and ___, when we first came down.” She smiles motioning at the two of you. “They were all over each other.”

Your sister looks to you, eyebrows raised.

“We weren’t, I don’t—” You flounder for words in your haste, Namjoon smoothly cutting you off as he puts his arm around the back of your chair.

“It’s hard not to be when you’re with someone as wonderful as ___.” Namjoon chirps. You step on his foot under the table.

“Cheesy much?” You wonder, quiet, but still loud enough for the other members of the table to hear you.

“Only for you honey.” He produces a megawatt smile before pecking a kiss to your temple.

Your mother practically falls out of her seat swooning, but not before giving a pointed look to Orchid and her husband, Sungmin.

That was what your mother did. She pitted the two of you against each other, pulled out your insecurities and served them out on a silver platter. Orchid and Sungmin were on the brink of divorce, of course they aren’t affection with each other. You were just waiting for your mother to sink her claws into you.

“Oh but ___, did you hear about Orchid’s big case?” She wonders, a vile smile creeping up her face. “It’s very important and her boss has entrusted her with handling it. I have no doubts she’ll win.”

“That’s great Orchid.” You smile. “Congratulations.” You feel genuine warm feelings towards your sister, your shitty childhood making your relationship stronger. Orchid had often held you when you cried and let you sleep in her bed when you were really upset after something your mother had said.

“And ___,” Your mother shifts her attention fast enough to make your head spin. “How’s work?”

“It’s great.” You manage through gritted teeth.

“She actually just got a promotion.” Namjoon smiles. “Like I said last night, its super exciting.” You don’t miss the little dig at your mother, and you suppress the urge to laugh. He grins proudly and you can’t help but smile a little. Namjoon had been the most supportive person in your life ever since he came into, overwhelmingly proud when you became got your degree and again when you got your first serious job.

“I’ve never understood how people can find joy in accounting.” Your mother spits. “It seems boring and there’s so many numbers.”

“Actually,” You pipe up. “It’s very interesting and you can really—”

“Still, I could never do it.” She cuts you off sharply.

“___ is incredibly intelligent.” Namjoon speaks again, eyes locking right on your mother’s. “It’s not boring for her. Although I could see how it could be for those who don’t understand numbers as well.”

Your mother’s jaw drops just the slightest, before she shuts her mouth, arms falling helplessly to her lap. You could kiss Namjoon right there, no one’s ever gotten your mother to shut up like that and you revel in it.

Once your mother has composed herself, she clears her throat, gaining the attention of everyone, yet again.

“So Namjoon, what do you do?”

“I’m a writer.” He answers, posture tall and confident, his eyes right on hers again.

“That’s lovely.” She comments. “Did you know that Sungmin is a doctor?”

“I did not.” He says politely. “That’s a very admirable job.”

“So is writing!” Sungmin pipes up. “I’ve always wished I had a talent with words like that. I used to pay my friends in university to write papers for me.”

Namjoon chuckles at that, smiling.

“Namjoon writes for a magazine in our city and he does some freelance stuff for big companies too.” You say proudly and he grins at you.

“That’s awesome man,” Sangmin comments. “I’d love to read some of your stuff sometime.”

“Yeah, I can—”

“But surely writing can’t be as fulfilling as a doctor. Nothing can beat saving lives.”

Everyone straightens grimly, all smiles disappearing.

“Remember I’m a general care physician, I don’t perform major surgeries.” Sungmin smiles awkwardly.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t save lives baby.” Orchid coos, setting her hand on his forearm. “But no career is better than another.” She comments, looking directly at your mother. “Every job is important, and everyone has different things they’re passionate about.” She looks at Namjoon now. “And I think writing is wonderful. You must be really smart.” You smile at your sister in thanks and she winks.

Your mother just scoffs, finally deciding to be quiet and eat her breakfast.

That was really…intense.” Namjoon sighs, tugging a clean crewneck over his head. You look up from the mirror where you’re rubbing moisturizer into your skin.

“Hmm.” You hum in agreement. “I’m so sorry by the way. The way my mother treated you was unacceptable.”

“It’s okay.” He answers honestly. When he sees your frown deepen, he sets his hands on your cheeks.

“___. I promise you it’s fine.”

“I just feel bad. It’s bad enough you had to come here and do this but now my mother is insulting your career and—”

His thumb nudges your chin, prompting you to stop talking. “First of all, I didn’t have to come here okay? I chose to be here. And second, you are not accountable for the things that mother says. She’s not nice to you either.” He reminds you with a soft smile.

“Thank you.” You say simply. He kisses the top of your head before scrounging his suitcase for his Converse. “Okay, I’m making an executive decision for us.” You state, flopping down onto the bed. His eyebrow quirks in curiosity, smiling, encouraging you to go on.

“We’re going out.” You announce. “I can show you my hometown, we can go shopping, get food. And if we time it right, we won’t have to be here for lunch or dinner.”

“I like the way you think.” He smirks, winking as he laces up his sneakers.

You’re a little buzzed from the spiced cider you had at dinner, giggling when Namjoon helps you out of the car, one arm already full of bags from the purchases you’d both made that day.

One of the things you loved about coming home, was getting to visit all the little shops and restaurants that were set up in town. You and Namjoon spent the day supporting your local small businesses and you couldn’t have been happier. It was a great way to spend time with your best friend—and get away from your parents.

You lean into him as you make your way up the front walk, giggling again when he trips on the cobblestone, his stature pitching forward before he catches himself.

Your parents and sister are lounging in the front room, your parents seated on the large sofa, your sister and Sungmin across from them on the loveseat.

“___, Namjoon, come join us!” Your mom suggests cheerfully, a glass of red wine resting in her hand.

“Okay,” Namjoon nods. “Let us take these bags upstairs and we’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you up the staircase, hand on your lower back.

“We probably should hang out for a bit,” You comment. “We haven’t seen them all day.”

Namjoon nods in agreement, taking the bags from your hands, setting them in the closet alongside his suitcase.

“Lemme just change,” You say, peeling your sweater over your head, eliciting a blush on Namjoon’s cheeks, his head ducking down.

You trade your sweater and jeans for a hoodie and Christmas-themed pajama pants, heading into the bathroom to scrub off your makeup while Namjoon changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Your parents look up when you reenter, smiling softly when they see the way you’ve nuzzled yourself into Namjoon’s side.

“Oh! Look what we put up earlier!” Orchid comments, pointing to the doorframe right above you and Namjoon.

Mistletoe.

“Oh, ha ha.” Namjoon chuckles awkwardly, his face heating up once again.

“Come on lovebirds,” Your sister laughs. “Give us a little show.”

“Gross Orchid.” You mumble, glaring right at her.

“You have to!” Your mother giggles. “It’s the rules.”

Namjoon looks like he wants to melt into the floor, scratching the back of his neck.

You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s lingering in your body, or how cute your best friend looks with his red cheeks, but something fills you with confidence, and you squish his warm cheeks with your hands, pressing a hard kiss to his pouted lips.

Your parents laugh and cheer, Orchid clapping good-naturedly. When you pull away from Namjoon, his eyes are wide, puffy lips parted in astonishment.

“So, this is it huh?” Namjoon wonders, straightening the red tie around his neck, which not-so-coincidentally matched the exact shade of your cocktail dress. “The big party.”

“Yup.” You nod, double checking your makeup in the mirror.

To say Namjoon was nervous about the Christmas Eve party, was an understatement. He was freaking out. He wants to make a good impression on everyone, in hopes that he can sell the lie the two of you have been living the past few days.

“You’ll be fine.”

He nods, swallowing harshly. He doesn’t admit it to you, but the party isn’t the only thing making him uneasy. You had never talked about last night, after you had kissed him, everything went on as usual, as if it never happened.

You slip into your heels, giving him a small smile.

“Alright,” You sigh softly, taking his arm. “Party time.”

You swallow another sip of champagne, gripping tightly to Namjoon’s arm. He had survived all of the introductions, and unsurprisingly, everyone loved him.

Dinner had already been served, and everyone was mingling, upbeat holiday music filtering through the speaker system, champagne and wine flowing easily.

Your parents were talking to some clients from your mother’s interior design firm, and you know without listening that she’s talking about you and Orchid.

That’s the thing about your mom—she’ll criticize every decision you make, but in front of everyone else she plays the proud, devoted parent, bragging about all of your accomplishments, as if she had anything to do with them.

Namjoon senses your discomfort and he nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head. The wine he’d been drinking had earlier served as liquid courage, but now that he was relaxed, he was just sleepier and cuddlier than usual.

“You okay?” He murmurs, lips at your ear. You nod robotically, leaning against his shoulder. Obviously, you’re not okay and he knows that, so he takes your hand, leading you outside to the back patio for a moment of fresh air.

Noticing the chill on your skin and the shiver in your movements, he drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, wrapping an arm around you.

“You’re not okay.” He whispers. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just,” You sigh, leaning into his embrace. “My mother. She’s so critical and finds fault in everything we do, yet when it comes to appearances and other people, she has nothing but good things to say.” You bite your lip to hold back the tears that fill your eyes, looking out into the wooded backyard. “If she really is proud, then why can’t she ever tell us?”

“Oh honey,” Namjoon frowns.

“It just feels like nothing I ever do is good enough. I work hard, I did well in school, but it’s like it’s not good enough. Why do I care so much about my parents’ approval, why can’t I just be proud of myself because I’ve done well?”

You don’t stop the tears from falling, splattering onto your cheeks and no doubt making tracks in your carefully applied makeup.

“I’m sorry.” Namjoon whispers. “I’m so sorry that you feel this way. I’m insanely proud of you and I wish you could see how wonderful you are, so deserving of love and praise.”

“I love you.” You blurt, the words spilling so easily from your lips, with a little help from the champagne in your system.

“Oh,” He smiles. “I love you too, you know th—”

“No Namjoon, I love you.” You murmur.

Something sparks in his eyes, you don’t see the way his demeanor changes, as he realizes what these feelings were—are. Spending all this time with you has made him feel different, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the feeling. But now, he knows, he loves you too.

“Can we go upstairs?” You wonder. “I’m so tired, I can’t be down here anymore, I just want—”

He cuts you off with a nod, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the back staircase, so you can escape without anyone seeing you.

Once the door is closed—and locked, you fling off your heels, flopping onto the bed. You drag your ring finger under your eyes, in attempt to collect the mascara clumps that washed off your eyelashes with the tears you’d shed.

“I love you too.” Namjoon announces, throwing his tie and shoes in a pile before standing over you. “God, I love you so much. I never realized how I feel, but now I know and—”

You cut him off with a press of your lips on his, hands grabbing for his shoulders and pulling him down. His lips melt into yours, returning the kiss with more fervor, mouth warm and soft.

You’re gripping on his shirt, clawing at the buttons when he pulls back slightly, running a hand through his damp locks, slicking it up onto his head.

“H-honey,” He starts, stumbling over his words a little. “I don’t know if we should be doing this right now.”

“What?” You pout, sitting up. “Why not? Do you not—”

“No, no, no, trust me I want to.” He sighs. “But you’re upset, we’ve been drinking…” He trails off and you whine.

“Joon please, I want this, I want you, I love you.” You frown, setting a hand on his cheek.

He looks into your eyes, searching for an ounce of hesitation. When he doesn’t find any, he you pull him back down, hovering above your form.

“Are you sure?” He murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Positive.” With your affirmation, he presses his lips to your own, lightly tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

He breathes in the groan that passes through your lips, sighing deliciously. After Namjoon’s tie is crumpled on the floor and a failed attempt at the buttons on his shirt, you tug on each side until it releases, the fabric literally ripping before you toss it away.

Namjoon only chuckles, shifting positions so that you can straddle his lap. Your hands grip his hair, exhaling when his lips meet the skin on your neck.

“I love you.” He simpers, lips behind your ear. “I love you so damn much.”

When you wake up the next morning, something’s changed. Not only between you and Namjoon—who’s currently cuddled into your side—but also the way you feel about yourself.

“Joonie,” You coo, tousling his hair. “Joon wake up, it’s Christmas.”

“Mmm, morning Christmas,” He murmurs sleepily. He nuzzles his face into your neck, eyelids falling shut.

“Namjoon,” You whisper. “C’mon. Let’s get up.”

“Please?” He whines. “Can we please sleep for a little longer before we have to go down there?”

“No Joonie, we’re going home.” You push back the covers and climb out of the bed, cold air flushing your skin.

His head snaps up, eyes perking up. “What?!”

“We’re leaving.” You announce, sliding on his t-shirt from two nights ago. “Unless, you want to stay?” You tease, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll start packing now!” He gets out of bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek before grabbing some fresh clothes and entering the bathroom.

You dress and pack up your belongings, so that when Namjoon is ready, you are too.

The two of you hold hands down the stairs, leaving your bags by the doorway before venturing into the kitchen.

“Good morning!” Your mother chirps. “Merry Christmas!”

“Hey guys.” You greet awkwardly.

“Come, sit down—have some breakfast, then we’ll open gifts.”

“Actually Mom,” You breathe. “We’re leaving.”

“What!?”

“Namjoon and I are going to go home.”

“Absolutely not, sit down.”

“No Mom. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I thought now that I’m grown up you would actually treat me with an ounce of respect, but I was wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Your mother snaps.

“Come on honey, let’s just go.” Namjoon urges, squeezing your hand tightly. You shake your head, squeezing his hand back.

“Before we leave I have something to say, and you’re going to listen to me.” You tell your mother, tone firm yet gentle. “For my entire life I’ve taken shit from you. The verbal abuse, emotional abuse, all the digs, all the criticism. Nothing I ever did was good enough for either of you and I’m done with it. I’m happy with who I am, what I do, and who I choose to spend time with. I’m done trying to impress you, this is my life, not yours. I am more than good enough and shame on you for not seeing it.”

You take a shaky breath wiping the single tear that fell down your face while you were speaking.

“And you Dad?” You add, redirecting your gaze. “You never did say anything. Never stood up for us, and God forbid you actually were proud of us without Mom telling you, you were allowed to be.”

Your parents sit there, dumbfounded. You take a moment to catch your breath before turning to look at Namjoon, who is trying very hard to bite back his grin. Orchid’s face is a mixture of admiration and pure joy, mouthing; I’ll call you later.

“Honey, I’m sorry you feel that way.” Your mother manages, thinking for her next words.

You swiftly shake your head.

“I love you both, but we’re leaving.” You smile. “We can work through this, only if you’re willing. But for now, I want to go home and spend Christmas with my boyfriend.”

You and Namjoon turn to leave, collecting your luggage before loading up the car.

“Holy shit.” Namjoon blurts. “That was fucking amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” You smile. “It felt good.” He leans over to kiss you, hand cupping your cheek.

“It was also pretty fucking hot.”

© arcticguk 2020. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

[my-sherlock221b]

Supernatural Rewatch Ramblings: Bloodlust

2020-21 has been a huge transformative time for many of us. Whether we wanted it or not, we have been forced to stop, switch gears, rethink, reflect, let go, make new priorities, discover who we really are and who we want to be in the face of adversity.

One of those transformations for me has been giving up on control and finding a way to surrender to the power of the universe. Another has been to not let perfection be the enemy of good.

You may well wonder---What does all this have to do with the Bloodlust rewatch and review??!

Probably nothing LOL except for the fact that I still have to write up my review on Bloody Mary and have been unable to write for various reasons. And then because the Bloody Mary review was still incomplete I could not write about the next one etc etc etc.

So when we watched Bloodlust two days ago in the continuing re-watch, I decided that I am going to re-start the review, and from exactly where I am right now!

If time and life permits I might fill in the gaps later. If not, well, life is unpredictable and weird and we keep calm as it carries on….Thank you for coming to my Philosophy talk….:)

Read below for the Boodlust  review, Season 2 episode 3 and look out for the post from @soulmates-for-real​ on this rewatch too!! 

The opening scene is the perfect switch and bait because we as an audience have been trained to latch on to types and identities and representations.

Woman in white night gown screaming and running--victim

Person who brutally beheads her—villain.

A few minutes into the episode we realize that we were wrong.

A good few minutes later we realize that we were wrong about being wrong.]

Haha.

We are idjits, swept away on the eddies and currents of this masterfully written and directed episode. Thank you Sera Gamble and Robert Singer!

The acting and the mesmerizing beauty of the two leads is worthy of an entire essay of its own but in order to have a life and finish this review I shall only say this—Oh my goodness HOW gorgeous is Jensen Ackles?!!

It is sometimes impossible to look at him in this episode because my eyes didn’t know where to land! That perfect face? The lips? Those eyes?? The quirk of the eyebrows? Those micro expressions that are constantly weaving across his face? The smile? The way his lips move when he talks?? His hair? The Samulet?

And then the shot pans out and includes his hand and the ring and honestly it’s a miracle I could follow the plot at all.

So the images I am going to include in this review, much as I love Sam Winchester and Jared Padalecki, are all of Dean Winchester. It’s a criminal waste to not do so when the man is just an ode to perfection.

*

Sheila O’Malley’s review of this episode is in itself a work of art and a thing of beauty so I will direct you most enthusiastically towards it and only add here my little pennyworth bits. Do click on this link but be prepared to sink into a one hour read which will make you feel like you were dropped into the episode itself.

https://www.sheilaomalley.com/?p=87187

Here is a quote from her review which is so insightful.

These are the details that a director like Robert Singer never misses, and at this point his relationship with Ackles and Padalecki would be almost telepathic (it’s probably 100% telepathic now). He has said before that he and Kripke were such a good team because Kripke’s primary concern is Plot/Gore/Horror and Singer’s primary concern is Character/Relationship. And they both end up in the same place. It’s a good mix. If Singer were also Plot/Gore/Horror focused, we wouldn’t have the depth of relationship which is the real point of the show, its real hook.

*

For a much briefer and far less technically adept and analytical review, read on here!

*

The opening of this episode shows us the Impala from every possible angle. Gleaming, gorgeous, road -worthy. This is mirrored by Dean. He is also gleaming, gorgeous and roadworthy. He is in a happy mood that not even Sam’s little brother snitty comments can deflate.

Here is the soundtrack of this episode for those who are interested.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0835248/soundtrack

Here is some random but fun trivia:

Dean tells Sam in one scene "If it's     Supernatural, we kill it." One of the rare times the title of the     show is actually spoken in the dialogue.

This is the first episode where Sam began parting his     hair down the middle, the hairstyle he'd keep the rest of the series.

( I didn’t like his hair too much in this episode honestly but then again I could barely see anyone beyond Dean :D)

During the filming of this episode Jared injured his     hand when he fell badly during a stunt. He thought it was merely sprained     and went straight into filming the next episode without having it checked.     But it got more and more painful and finally he went to the doctor and     discovered that his hand was, in fact, broken. Because he had already     begun filming, he couldn't bandage the hand until filming for that episode     was finished. The writers ended up writing in an accident for Sam and his     line "I think she broke my hand" to explain the fact that for     the following few episodes he would be wearing a cast.

When Dean kills a vampire, blood is sprayed on his     face, mostly on his right cheek. In the next shot the pattern is     different, and notably the right cheek is almost clean. Furthermore, his     mouth was agape when he made the kill, risking the blood getting into his     mouth and turning him into a vampire. While the brothers didn't yet know     how a vampire is made at that point, Gordon did and should have been     alarmed that Dean might have gotten some of the blood in his mouth.

*

A random behind the scene shot from the episode:

Guess who she is? Apparently this is Jensen’s sister in a super brief role in Bloodlust!

* 

On to the review, or rather some of my thoughts during the re-watch.

The first scene with the Sheriff they are interrogating him about the cattle mutilations is hilarious. The way they bluff their way into the morgue is hilarious. Dean always leading and Sam following.

Random trivia: When Dean enters the morgue with Sam and sees the name tag of "J Manners", it has been thought the name was to honor Jeffrey Dean Morgan and series producer Kim Manners. Dean guesses "John" - Jeffrey's character name - and the intern corrects with "Jeff"

*

It a testament to the way Supernatural has trained its audience that we barely blink when they pull out a decapitated head in the morgue, squabble over who is more chicken, dig into the mouth and eventually discover vampire fangs.

Yes, of course they do.

*

Next scene: Two hot guys walk into a bar…..

…….where the adorable Benny, who is not Benny in this episode but a random dude ( spoilers—later we find out the dude is a vampire), gives them directions/ mis- directions to a possible vampire nest.

We see the first glimpse of Gordon Walker, amazingly played by Sterling K. Brown, and making us worry about and dislike him almost right away. The way he is shown with the light and shade bars on his face from the window blinds is so menacing.

The next few scenes continue to build that sense of unease where the Winchester brothers, apparently telepathically, decide to double back and catch him following them, then he shows them his car and his weapons, where he references their dad and then refuses their offer for help.

The scene where he shows them his car is like a painting. (The car by the way is just as inconspicuous as the Impala –which is to say NOT AT ALL!! How do these people stay below the radar of the regular law enforcement is a mystery….).

The dust highlighting the rays of light, the two brothers on one side of the car and Gordon at the other, it’s all so consciously set up for a few seconds worth of screen time. Impressive!

Next comes a truly brutal kill, at Dean’s hands, which we don’t even see except as a spray of blood on his face. Poetic! But it is Dean’s expression that makes my stomach clench. His eyes are dead and he is somewhere deep that even Sam can’t reach, as we can see from the distress on Sam’s face.

Gordon of course is all chipper and full of bonhomie and offers to buy them drinks.

That following scene is the one which gives Wincest brother-wives vibes like 100%.

*

Sam plays the role of the disgruntled ‘wife’ to perfection. No one but hubby is allowed to use the nickname. He hates the male bonding going on with Gordon and the more Gordon seems to slip into Dean’s inner circle, the more uncomfortable Sam gets, until he finally decides that he just cannot physically be there any more.

Dean’s smug expression when Sam tells Gordon off for calling him Sammy, his instant worry at Sam going back alone, his hand raised in exasperation to convey to Gordon—look what I have to put up with-- the tossing of the keys to his car----it is all a symphony of Dean playing his part in the brother-wives orchestra.

The last line?! ‘Remind me to beat the buzzkill out of you later.’ And Sam’s expression at that? That’s exactly the way a bullying /abusive husband would react to a nagging wife who doesn’t like his toxic friends and wonders how he can be so blind as to not see them for the bad influence they clearly are.

( Bad Dean!!!)

Sam goes back to the motel and does his due diligence by checking with Ellen, gets kidnapped by vampires, released and on his return is disgusted to find Gordon inside their motel room.

*

The next scene is where Dean erupts, having clearly had enough of the shifting power dynamics between them over the evening. Sam has been silently judging him since the kill and Gordon has managed to ‘other’ Sam and make Dean feel validated in his own bloodlust as a hunter.

Dean clocks Sam one.

Wow. I did not see that coming. And what shocked me at this re- watch is that Sam just takes it.

Like an abused wife, he just takes it. Not only that, sometime later in the episode he tells Dean to hit him again if it is going to make him feel better.

NO Sam! NO!!! This is NOT healthy and this is NOT the way to deal….ugh. Sigh.

*

Then the second half of the episode swings in and the moral dilemma they face becomes clear when the victim and villain switch roles and Dean is shook enough to question his dad’s judgement!

Dean is still kind of trying to give Gordon the benefit of the doubt even though he sees him literally torturing the vampire. But of course all bets are off the instant he touches Sam. Dean pulls his gun on him. I was surprised that he didn’t shoot him just on principle later simply because he hurt Sam even if it was a small cut.

That is Dean’s definition of monsters-- Anything that hurts Sam. 😊

*

We don’t know it at this time, and spoilers ahead, but maybe Dean has been so annoyed and violent with Sam at the idea that he is standing up for MONSTERS is because he might also be one….and the way he looks at the end when he realizes that his whole life’s philosophy has been upended.

There are the details about the vampires who drink cattle blood so they don’t harm humans and therefore want to be treated as the good guys. Of course it is all about the inherent struggle between who you are and what you do—something that shows up hugely magnified in the later seasons when Sam is struggling with his own demon blood addiction and the knowledge of the demon blood inside him.

He needs desperately to believe in this as the utmost foundation stone of his life and its purpose—what you DO is more important than what you ARE!

So even if you are a monster, if you don’t behave like one—that is your redemption.

But it’s not just anybody whose faith he wants in his struggle to prove to himself that he is not a monster. He needs it from Dean.

Remember the dialogue from the panic room “Don’t you say that to me. Don’t YOU say that to me.”

And the fake voicemail set up by Zachariah exploits this at the time of the breaking of the last seal.

*

Of course he doesn’t know any of this yet, but that’s Sam fucking Winchester for you –always purer and better than his circumstances allow. Always struggling to do better, be better.😍

*

It is fascinating how the visuals and the roles these two play are of rugged handsome men, badass heroes-- Dean of course super macho role playing all the time. But there are so many layers upon layers and honestly if it wasn’t for Jared and Jensen’s fine nuanced and impeccable acting adding depth to the characters, the show would not have held our interest for this long.

We are shown Sam as the brains with his lore and research, but then in the very next episode (Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things), we see Dean connect dots faster than Sherlock Holmes.

Dean is shown as the instinctively violent one with the gun under his pillow, trigger happy, and in this episode even that brutal kill of the vampire on the docks. But then please remember the way Sam kills Gordon finally. Or the insane way he bites himself to get blood for drawing sigils. Or the way he just simply shoots the crossroads demon point blank!

We see Sam as the soft hearted one and he does rescue kids once in a while, but he is never shown to bond with them even a fraction of the way Dean does—so effortlessly. Also the ladies of course, all of whom have a soft spot for Dean. The exceptions being Sarah and Madison, both of whom completely ignored Dean. Oh and that doctor from Sex and Violence.

Dean has had his share of bad dates of course with Cassie, the woman who gave birth to his magical superfast growing daughter ( who was killed by Sam), and the whole Lisa arc, but somehow we are shown Sam as the one who is invested in relationships. Hello?! Sam was planning to marry Jessica without having told her a thing about his life while Dean told Cassie the secret as soon as he thought he was in love and wanted a relationship.

So anyway, just to say that a rewatch is so brilliant because we know more about them at this point than they do and the character arc is such a thing of beauty to see unfolding!

*

That last scene where Dean is in a thoughtful frame of mind, the sun is rising overhead ( as a metaphor for him seeing the light, maybe?)--that insanely gorgeous shot of Dean with the ring of fire and light and his absolutely perfect face in a close up…sigh.

Then he thanks Sam for pushing him to see this grey area and for the first time in that episode Sam finally smiles.

His big brother is back with him.

And then he commits to Dean too. Ah…how it warms my heart to hear this dialogue!

 DEAN I wish we never took this job. It's jacked everything up.

SAM What do you mean?

DEAN Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, our whole lives.

SAM Okay.

DEAN What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us...

SAM Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could.

DEAN I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it.

SAM You didn't kill Lenore.

DEAN No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all.

SAM Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters.

DEAN Yeah. Well, 'cause you're a pain in my ass.

SAM Guess I might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then.

DEAN Thanks.

SAM Don't mention it.

Transcript here http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=2.03_Bloodlust_%28transcript%29

 Guess Sam does stick around for the next 15 years to be a pain in the ass 😊

Some quotes from the writers about this episode: 

·  "The episode was really about what Dean would become if he didn't watch out: that Gordon was Dean in ten years if Sam didn't ask the difficult questions and keep him from getting too militant." - Executive story editor Sera Gamble

· "We set out to create a monster episode where you weren't entirely sure whether these monsters should be killed." - Eric Kripke

· "For me, the show is at its best when the supernatural story reveals something new about the brothers, or forces them to change in some way. Sam and Dean's realization that they've basically been raised as 'monster racists' was really meaty stuff. Exploring these characters' flaws is just as important as showcasing their heroism - these are the things that make them human, that make us invest in them." - Raelle Tucker

Check out this site for more amazing trivia and stuff

http://www.jonescave.com/supernatural/Episode/Episode.php?s=2&e=3#PopCulture

I have already finished watching the next episode ‘Children’s Shouldn’t play with Dead Things’….so let’s hope I get around to writing a review sometime soon !

[greenninjagal-blog]

Deja vu pt4

Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait! Who’s ready for 19 pages of Remus angst? If you’re new around [Here] is the first part, and [Here] is the previous chapter for those who want a refresher!

(To that one person who asked if Remus’s vision would get any clearer: I am so sorry.)

Summary: Remus has been able to see the future since he was eight years old. He thinks that maybe his mother would have loved him a bit more if he hadn’t. (aka, Remus calls home.)

Words: 7879

TW: attempted suicide, blood, death, bad parenting

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

By the time he’s twenty one and four months, Remus is no stranger to cross country traveling. He’s been all over the country, all over the back roads, the main roads, the highways and the interstates. He’s had paper maps from greasy gas stations stuffed in his go-bag since he was eighteen, and keeps souvenirs of his travels in the form of pins and buttons he’s clipped on the shoulder strap. 

He had made it a habit to never travel with a plan. He had chosen directions on a whim, following signs when he felt the need to sleep somewhere, and picked up cars from dealerships when he had been too lazy to use his casino-breaking powers to get the cash to pay for it legally. 

Travelling is something Remus has always been familiar with. The freeing feeling of pressing his foot to the floor and blowing through endless cornfields, of burning more gas than strictly necessary, of getting himself lost on backroads without cell service-- He loves driving with the windows down and the long distances. During the billions of times that he had slept in whatever car he was using, he had enjoyed climbing on the hood and staring up at the stars until sleep dragged him away again. 

Travelling with Dee, however, is something else entirely.

At first it had been different just because there were two of them: the presence of another person made him feel the need to talk to fill the silence, made him actually have to answer the “where are we going” question, made him unsure of if what he was doing was the right thing to do.

(Not the morally right thing-- no that he knew the answer of. He meant the right thing as in the thing that Dee wanted him to do. He imagined in those first few weeks he acted a lot like a pet dog, always checking back to Dee to see that he was doing good, and wagging his metaphorical tail whenever the Shapeshifter gave him that delicious validation.)

Travelling with Dee almost means the death of sleeping in the car they were using. The Shapeshifter believes him when he says that they aren’t gonna be attacked in the night or the police aren’t going to come knocking on their windows, but Dee, as much as he tries to pretend he’s new to riches and money, is a fucking elitist. 

“Why sleep in the backseat when there is a hotel with a bed and breakfast right there?” He used to ask, sometimes still asks, never needs to ask anymore. “Why act like a ruffian without a home when I can live like a king?”

And, well, Remus had looked into his eyes for too long and gotten lost in the depths of them. Dee was pretty, you see? And Remus’s stubbornness was a learned trick that Dee knew how to circumnavigate. 

Travelling with Dee means hotels with beds and fake names in a log book. It means showers with mini bottles of shampoo and crisp covers freshly cleaned and watching the stars from the balconies while Dee smelled his money (again). It means complimentary breakfasts that aren’t super great, but they’re something that Remus hadn’t had in a while and sharing a room with another person who didn’t trust him not to run off with all their money, counting the near silent inhales and exhales, and trying not to think about stupid things like “family vacations” or “Just share the bed, Roman, its one night!”

It means no more stealing cars, because Dee rations out and puts aside money in the most atrocious order-- something that he won’t describe to Remus beyond “you’re cute, but not that cute” no matter how many times Remus asks, or when he asks. Somehow he always has the money for a new car and food and a hotel room and anything else they saw and wanted for whatever reason. 

(“Not that one,” Remus had said, grabbing Dee’s arm before he could even look in the direction of the car in the lot. And Dee blinked but didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t pick out any other silver sedans and Remus managed to make it all the way to the bathroom before vomiting his guts up. Funny, isn’t it? That he can still see blood on a bumper and hear the screams of ambulance sirens thirteen fucking years later?)

Some things are the same, though.

Remus takes note of them as he drives calmly through the evening, like he used to in the four years where he had between running away from everything he’d known and running into Dee’s arms. The air still feels nice with the windows down, his eyes still burn when the opposite traffic forgets to turn off their high beams, the radio is still soft and soothing and plays along to his heartbeat. Dee’s still curled up in the passenger side seat, wearing a fresh pastel peach button up tucked into black dress pants and dress shoes bought straight from the rack. 

He’s still cute like this, vulnerable, with scales on display and his seatbelt imprinting a line on his opposite cheek. There’s a duffel bag of stolen money at his feet, all counted and tagged in his pocket notebook that he never lets Remus flip through. In the backseat are two more duffel bags with just Remus’s atrocious half of the money and another couple of suitcases that contain their material possessions.

Something stirs in Remus’s gut at the sound of Dee’s soft snores. He really is asleep, really does trust Remus not to drive them into a guard rail or off a cliff or into another car. He really trusts that Remus hasn’t been hiding a switchblade in his sleeve, just waiting for the right moment to plunge it into Dee’s throat before making an abstract art masterpiece out of his blood. He really trusts Remus not to park somewhere on the shoulder and take all the money they have between them and disappear in the night without a trace.

He trusts Remus.

And he doesn’t have a clue how much that means. 

Well, maybe he’s guessed a little. After all, Remus still gets that surprised look on his face when Dee actually listens to him, still finds himself rolling that purple coin from the Basilisk Casino that he’s kept, still gets a little shaky when he tells certain futures because this is it, this is gonna be the time where Dee says he’s stupid and crazy and dumb and he’s not gonna listen--

Trust was a hard thing to come by after Remus turned eight. How can you trust the crybaby that starts sobbing every time someone gets a little scratch? How can you trust the psycho kid who needs medication to go to school? How can you trust Roman’s Weirdo Brother when he says he can see the future like some sideshow circus attraction?

But Dee trusts him enough to keep travelling with him, enough to keep robbing banks with him, enough to let down his glamour and show his real self while he’s sleeping.

It's all well and good and fine.

Remus wishes he trusted himself the way Dee trusts him.

The music playing is still something that Dee had picked out hours before, classical and Remus doesn’t hate it necessarily, but he did turn it down so slow that the engine is louder than those stupid violins. Remus has an appreciation for people who find the screeching strings pleasant rather than just annoying, he swears. But the rumbling of the engine, the bump of every uneven bit of road, the slow winding turns is a familiar comforting melody.

Home, Remus knows, is more of the road than any building he’s ever been in. It’s more of the feeling of Dee’s hand in his over the console, more of the smell of pine tree air fresheners mixed with new car, than any concrete solid place he’s ever been.

Which is silly, maybe. Remus thinks if he squeezes his eyes closed really hard he can still picture the layout of the house he and Roman lived in. (Not “home”, not “the place he grew up in” and he definitely didn’t grow up in there-- because it wasn’t until he was seventeen and sleeping in gas station bathrooms in two hour spurts that he learned how the world really was.)

His mother really tried, Remus thinks. She really tried to be a good person, a good mother, a good role model. She made sure they cleaned their rooms and taught them how to do the laundry. She made sure he brushed his teeth and was fed and healthy and smil--

Listen when he--

Helped him take his med--

She tried, okay. Remus thinks that if he had been a normal child he might have grown up happy. He thinks that if she had had any other son to twin with Roman she would have been a fantastic Mom. He thinks that if he hadn’t gotten his power at eight fucking years old he would have been able to articulate what the fuck was going on and they might have had a chance.

Then he wonders what the hell they would have had “a chance” at. 

And then he gets angry about himself even thinking about it and---

---drives his car directly into the guardrail. Killing himself instantly with the force of the side collision and the air bad while Dee gasps for life he desperately was clinging too and the car that had been behind them for three exits screeches to a stop a dozen yards ahead of them and with passengers scrambling from their pickup truck screaming for help---

---drives his car directly into the guardrail. Killing himself instantly with the force of the side collision and the air bad while Dee gasps for life he desperately was clinging too and the car that had been behind them for three exits screeches to a stop a dozen yards ahead of them and with passengers scrambling from their pickup truck screaming for help---

---drives his car directly----

 And Remus keeps driving on the quiet road, switching lanes so he’s in the middle lane rather than the side one.

Its not a good night.

Well in all honestly it hasn’t been a good day either. They had spent most of it driving and Remus hadn’t meant to be quiet, but his thoughts had been so loud he forgot that not everyone could hear them. They felt like screams, like a blow horn directly into his ear drums, like his brain was being torn apart with each and every fire of a neuron. 

Thinking hurt. He hated to do it. 

Dee must have picked up on it, must have taken note of his change in attitude since that morning when he had grabbed the car keys off the dresser and hoisted their bags into the car. He had asked once, Remus thought, maybe. It would have been out of character for him not to ask what Remus was doing with the keys, but if he had asked he had only done it one time.

And Remus hadn’t answered it and Dee hadn’t asked again.

He also hadn’t asked where they were going. Remus thinks that was blessing, a mercy, a silent kindness that he was too selfish to even say thank you for. He didn’t know where he was driving to, just that he had blown through a full tank and a half and somewhere over ten hours of driving and that they had crossed timezones again.

And the concept of timezones had made him angry enough to slam his foot to the floor and nearly run a blue minivan off the road entirely.

He switches hands he’s steering with, flexing and stretching his digits to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

There’s four hours now. 

And Remus knows this because even if he hadn’t graduated highschool he knew how to read a clock. Which was what he had been doing all day: watching the speedometer and watching the clock and watching his blood pressure rise with every mile he drove.

There’s four hours between them now. Which means nine o’clock for him, which means the dim sky, which means the peaks of the faint stars through the grey cloudy sky, the closed mom-and-pop shops and the dwindling number of other cars-- which means that everything around him currently is not the same thing for someone who is four hours behind them.

Dee is asleep, shifting tiredly, when Remus, grinds his teeth together so hard and violently and angrily.

His skin feels wrong, too tight, too small. It feels like someone else and he’s only borrowing it. It twists around his lungs, constricting around him like a python and stealing every breath from his chest and getting smaller with every inhale. 

His legs burn with a restless energy and his eyes hurt from driving for so long and he’s hungry.

The radio fuzzes as he drives, as they reach the end of the station's signal range, as the violins finally die and leaves them with just static. The noise is grating in a way that Remus can’t quite place, something more annoying than the screeching of his own thoughts that won’t shut up. He reaches blindly for the power button, trying not to take his eyes off the road because he doesn’t want to plow them into the back end of the SUV they’ve been trailing behind for the better part of fifty miles. 

The radio goes off. 

Remus’s thoughts do not. 

The cloudy sky makes it darker than it actually is, making him turn on his headlights and make him growl at the lane reflectors he comes across every so often. The words on the signs might as well be written in Greek because Remus doesn’t bother reading them at all.

Mostly.

He tries not to. 

But there’s one that spells out “RESTSTOP” and it gouges its phantom fingers in Remus’s brain, refusing to leave him alone after he sees it. He drives and he tells himself it's because they haven’t eaten all day, because Dee probably needs to use the restroom, because he needs a stretch. Dee hasn’t complained at all, you know? Remus owes him a little bit of a stop. Maybe they can look for a fancy hotel with a penthouse edition and get himself drunk on the minibar delights.

That’s all.

It hasn’t nothing to do with the four hour time gap.

Dee doesn’t wake even when he pulls into a well lit parking spot. There’s a handful of other vehicles in the lot: a deep green hatchback with two bikes strapped to the top, a jeep with no doors and a lot of mud, a group of sixish motorcycles and the owners of them standing nearby talking quietly. He counts at least seven eighteen wheelers resting for the hour all with a collection of name brands and graffiti on the backs. 

 Remus puts their own car in park and sits back, taking it all in. 

He’s no stranger to travelling, hasn’t been for a long time. At twenty one years and four months old he’s no longer scared of the dark and certainly not scared of going to a public restroom. The signs clearly mark eating areas, restrooms, the dark, creepy, not-at-all well lit path into the woods for those who need to stretch and want to be murdered by psycho crazy forest clowns. There’s vending machines that take credit cards for sodas and packaged foods and Remus even spots one selling cheap portable phone chargers.

There’s a payphone booth.

Three actually.

None of them are in use, currently.

Remus looks back at the clock in their car-- its a quarter past nine-- and wishes that he couldn’t do math so well in his head. Maybe if he hadn’t been able to count he would have been able to take the stupid urge by is scrawny neck and throw it out the window while he drove right on by. Maybe if he hadn’t been able to keep track of days so well he would have been able to ignore the date. Maybe if he hadn’t been so great at counting he could have been better at something else, anything else, something normal.

She had tried, hadn’t she? 

So Remus should have been thankful, grateful, happy at least about that, right? It was his fault that he hadn’t been able to figure out that his visions were telling the future until a year later, until the doctors told him it was all in his head, until his own mother had decided he was making it up. She had listened to him those first few times, listened and reassured him, and held him close when he couldn’t breathe from the crippling fear that Roman was going to die. She had weathered each of eight-year-old Remus’s breakdowns with the patience of a saint.

And he still hadn’t been able to be that perfect son for her.

“Take your meds, Remus,” She had still told him when he was sixteen and had stopped crying when he watched her cross the parking lot without looking. “Take your meds and you’ll get better.” She had said even though that wasn’t what the meds did for people who actually took them. The meds hadn’t been the glue to piece him-- or anyone-- back together. They just reminded people of how their pieces fit without scratching and breaking and shattering even more.

And Remus hadn’t even needed them back then, because his problem hadn’t been like anyone else's. 

It hadn’t been delusions and hallucinations in his head. It hadn’t been him going crazy, it hadn’t been him losing himself. 

She had tried though. To be a good mother. To love him and all his….quirks.

“I don’t need you!” Roman had said. Very loudly, very openly, very angrily. And Remus thinks about that day a lot, often, all the goddamn time. Because they had been arguing all the way up the stairs, had been fighting verbally and their mother, their mom, Mom, had been just below them in the kitchen making dinner-- or maybe it had been a dessert, baking? Or just messing around in the kitchen. She had been there.

And they had gotten in trouble for arguing much quieter before.

Remus thinks about that day. He thinks about the vision of Roman dying by his own hand, of the blood and the gore and then fluttering pulse and the concept of a soul leaving the body. He thinks about how his parents would have come running the moment they heard Roman scream in pain.

He thinks. 

Maybe he thinks too much. 

And maybe one day he’d get the courage to ask himself the big looming question: Had she loved him? Or had she loved the concept of him?

Today wasn’t, hasn’t been, isn’t that day.

It’s nine thirty, here, at this rest stop somewhere in Oregon, where Remus is clawing his fingers on his thighs and letting his unevenly chewed nails catch on the holes in his fishnets. Its nine thirty here on the day where Remus is twenty one and four months old and staring at a payphone like it was about to ring all by itself. Its nine thirty one and Remus is thinking too much, too loudly, not enough.

It must be around five thirty for her. Right in the middle of dinner. Or after. Maybe she’s doing the dishes under scalding water that boils her hands right off. Maybe the dinner was poisoned and she’s clawing at her throat right now. Maybe she went out for the evening and got hit by a car when crossing the street.

Remus knows he could check. He doesn’t.

Because his skin is already itching and his breath is too hot and he wants to cry but he’s too old to be crying over things like this, just like his mom has said a thousand times over. 

He wonders if she would believe him if he told her how many times she had cried over Roman, how many times she had frozen at the sight of her precious baby boy going still and silent, how many times she fell to the ground and clutched at his body screaming her sobs like there was a chance any god out there would hear her anguish and give her son back. 

Like she had only one to love and cherish.

She had tried.

Remus wants to laugh so badly it hurts. The urge itself rips through his body, shredding his organs with a razorblade and filling his lungs with fluids followed and squirming its way up his throat inch by inch with a determination Remus hasn’t seen in himself since that gas station four years ago where he saw himself jump in front of an eighteen wheeler and felt his insides go splat! for the first time.

Remus wants to laugh, because she had tried, and it hadn’t been enough and Remus still---

He still---

Remus pulls the keys out of the ignition and throws them in the cupholder next to the sleeping Dee. He exchanges it for his wallet, which had seen far better days and been handled far nicer, but that’s beside the point. His driver’s license is overdue but nothing short of a nuclear bomb will get him back to the state he had once lived in-- he skips over it and the various rechargeable cards he had picked up over the years (Starbucks, Seven-Eleven, a Techron Advantage Card he got for fun and never actually used because Dee always paid for gas) and goes straight for the cash.

They’re all large bills. He takes a fifty.

Dee murmurs softly as he unbuckles his seat belt and flies into a wide blown panic when Remus opens the door. Quicker than Remus thought was possible for a guy to move, he springs over the dividing console and grabs Remus’s arm with-- OW FUCK DEE -- claws.

Remus yanks back on instinct, throwing himself against the already open door and tumbles into the empty parking spot next to them. His arm howls with pain, with an agony, with a cacophony that drowns out all his other thoughts for the moment. 

The blood is red. 

Remus is twenty one and four months old and his body wracks with such a vehement hatred for the color it makes the rest of his blood, the blood in his veins, the blood in his body, his blood boil. Its red, and he hates red, has hated red, will forever hate red.

Because red was the color of Roman’s favorite jacket when they were eight, the color of Roman’s shoes that he left out on the stairs too many times, the color of Roman’s blood too.

Red had been the color staining the bumper of a silver sedan, the color of a broken snow globe hitting the carpet, the color of Remus’s insides on the freeway, and the underside of an eighteen wheeler, and the bottom of the motel bathroom tub. 

“Remus!” Dee yells from inside the car, morphing, changing, panicking in a way that is not like him at all. He clambers into the driver's seat looking too pale for a guy whose skin tone could be any color he wanted it to be. “I’m sor-- I didn’t know we ha--- Oh my god I’m sorry!” 

He grabs all the napkins they have squirreled away in the crevices of the car, then the half empty tissue pack from the last time Remus had decided to check to see if the line in McDonalds was going to be long, then a scarf Dee had bought before he remembered that it was warm enough to cook eggs on the sidewalk in most of the places they went to. He spills out of the car even less gracefully than Remus had, bubbling up apologies like his mouth was a fountain. There’s an emotion wafting off him, something that taints the air and makes the hair on Remus’s neck stand on edge.

“It’s okay,” Remus whispers.

“You’re not okay!” Dee frantically responds, turning a stripe of his hair blonde and completely missing the part where Remus did not say he himself was okay.

Dee’s fingers feel like bugbites up and down his arm, like cigarette ends being jammed into his flesh, like he was the cake and Dee was placing enough candles in him to make up for every birthday his mother had missed celebrating.

“Its okay,” Remus says, tugging his arm away before Dee can turn him into a house fire that burns down the whole block.

“Remus--”

Remus stands up. “I need to make a phone call.”

Remus doesn’t need to make a phone call. He probably shouldn’t make a phone call. 

“Remus!” Dee says standing up too. He’s taller this week, today, now, than he’s been before. He’s got an inch on Remus, and he uses that inch to look down at him and breathe like every inhale might be his last. There’s blood on his hands from trying to mop up where Dee had clawed him. Remus can feel the warmth of his blood trailing down his fingers even now. 

“What the hell is up with you right now!” He demands in a way that makes Remus’s stomach churn, that makes his knees weak and his throat feel all lumpy in all the wrong places. 

He should be mad. Dee should be furious at him for ignoring him all day, for driving them through a handful of states, for not pausing for bathroom breaks or any type of food, for not waking him when he stopped at the rest stop. He should be so angry he can’t see straight, so enraged that he stood up and grabbed the keys and drive the fuck away from here. He should be mad.

So why does he sound so scared? 

“Is this about the Mall?” Dee asks, “I can do better, Remus, please! I’m sorry!”

He’s babbling like a brook, about things in the mall that Remus barely remembered because it was a day and a half ago and three, four, five states gone. He’s talking about the Mall the same way that eight-year-old Roman had been apologizing for name calling, while Remus was three sheets in the wind during a tornado on his own thoughts.

“No,” Remus says, which is about as effective as shoving his finger in a hole in a dam.

The parking lot lights make Dee look like he’s standing in a spotlight on stage. Remus hates the sight, hates the feeling that they’re putting on a production for someone else's entertainment, hates that he should know his lines by now and because he doesn’t he's ruining everything around him.

Dee moves like a clockwork mannequin with rusted gears. Remus thinks he can hear each individual gear screech as his back straightens and his weight shifts back and Dee looks more like Roman than he’d ever know.

“N--n--” Dee repeats, “No?”

As if he didn’t know what the word meant.

“Like….no I can’t do better?”

-- “Like, No Get Back in the Fucking Car, Dee!” Remus explodes.---

--“Like No, Leave me alone for five seconds!” Remus erupts.---

--”Like No, Its not your fault I’m a fucking mess!” Remus chokes.---

--- “Like No, Its not your fault. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”--

-- “Like No, I’m making bad decisions and I’m sorry and I don’t know what to do and I know that you don’t really love me the way you think you do because no one ever loves me that way. Like No, this is a future that I’m not going to choose but I wish I had because keeping this all in my chest hurts like a little bitch, Dee. It hurts so bad. Like no. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m going to have such a nose bleed from this one, and because you’re you, you’ll know that I’ve been bullshitting my way through this for a good while. My power’s broken, Dee. Don’t you see? And once I tell you what's going to be left for you to stay?.”---

“Like No,” Remus says, defeated. “I don’t even remember what happened at the Mall.”

Dee stares at him with stolen sapphire eyes, with an emotion he can’t place, with wordless questions Remus doesn’t want to answer.

He doesn’t know what time it is.

A drip of his blood leaks down his lip and lands on the asphalt at his feet. That’s okay.

He breathes in the dry air, feeling it scratch down his throat and butcher his lungs with each inhale. “I...need to make this phone call.”

“Why?” Dee pleads, and Remus thinks that if even Dee can tell it will end badly, he should know better than to go through with it. 

But Remus has been thinking too much lately, about too many things. He’s been trapped up in his own head, and the last people he tried to let help him gave up on him.

And he still can’t give up on them.

“It’s her birthday,” Remus says with a smile that borders on deranged, “And she tried, you know?”

He doesn’t know. Remus can tell by the look on Dee’s face. But that’s okay. They made a pact after all, after that first night, that they wouldn’t get personal, that discussions of feelings were off the table. And Dee had said in a future that hadn’t happened that Remus was an investment that will pay out one day. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know.

“Remus,” Dee says, controlling the stage like he was born to do it. “What will she say?”

Remus shrugs and turns away because he’s never been able to make it past intermission of any production he’s watched. The fifty in his hand has splatterings of blood, his arm aches and whines as he uses it to smear away the waterfall from his nose. At least a couple of the sidewalk lights are broken so he doesn’t scare every single normal person chilling at the rest stop as he walks up.

Remus is twenty one and four months, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t waste forty seven dollars on snacks from a vending machine just to get the change in quarters to call cross country. He’s not hungry but he peels open a Cliff bar and takes a bite anyway. The rest of the food he leaves on the patio floor around the vending machine for whatever comes by, be it the kids he can hear yelling or the raccoons watching from the tree line.

He glances back at the car, their car, Dee’s car. Just to make sure its still there. That Dee didn’t drive off without him.

Dee hadn’t, didn’t, doesn’t. He’s sitting in the driver's seat with the door wide open, half in half out, and it looks like he was fiddling with the radio again.

Remus tosses the other half of the bar into the trashcan and walks the last three steps to the payphones. 

She had tried. Remus puts the phone to his ear and tries to remember how to breathe. 

The buttons are stiff. Remus’s knuckle leaves behind traces of his blood as he dials. The back of his throat tastes like his inside of his stomach. There’s a gritty feeling along his teeth and the bottom of his mouth from the Cliff Bar. He’s knees tremble to the sound of the ringing, leaving him swaying in the too-long silences, in the bated breaths, in the calm before the hurricane. 

“Hi! It's the Regis Family! We’re not available right now, but if you leave your name and number, we’ll get back to you!” 

Remus’s mouth tastes like blood. He swallows it down, breathes through the rest of the message, the beep and another moment where his chest just aches with a billion words he doesn’t know how to say.

“H….hey.” His voice is raspy. Why is his voice so raspy? He clears his throat. “I, uh...I was calling to say, Happy Birthday. Hope it was a good one. That’s all. B--”

“--Hello?”

Remus’s jaw clicks shut at the noise, the words, the voice. Because even four years later Remus knows it like the back of his hand, can still imagine it screaming his name in the store, of it laughing as she brushed through his curls, of it whispering softly that everything is fine, everything is okay, I’m right here, Remus.

“Ha, Hi! Sorry about that, you caught us just as we were getting back to the house! Oh, this is embarrassing… Who is this? Our caller ID isn’t working…”

She trails off.

Remus thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.

She sounds out of breath, flushed and happy and excited in a way that he doesn’t remember her ever being before. His vision tunnels through memories, through scenes in his head where she’s smiled and laughed and giggled the way she’s doing right now. He’s coming up blank.

He grabs the wall to keep himself steady.

“Hello?”

“I’m here,” Remus croaks.

She’s different now. So is he. Everything is different and the world seems to stop at that mind blowing statement.

“.....I’m sorry,” She says, “I really need to know who this is, now.”

Remus should hang up. 

Remus needs to hang up. 

He laughs, like he’s on death row, like the barrel of a gun in on his temple, like his foot just left the ledge.

“What?” He asks, “Can’t a mother recognize the sound of her own son's voice?”

There’s a breath. A moment. A second. Remus feels it. Like it's tangible, palpable, real. Like all the clocks in the world decided to stop. Like a tick without a tock. Like the past and the present and the future didn’t exist at all. There’s a breath, and Remus thinks that she had tried once, maybe she could try again. 

They both could try again.

“Oh my god. Is that...Baby, is that really you? I’m so sorry for what I said. You were right.” 

“Wait--”

“You’re always right. And I’m sorry about-- about everything. Please let me make it up to you?” His mother says and Remus gets a sinking feeling in his chest.

“What--”

“Or at least talk about it? Can we do that?”  His mother says and Remus should have hung up.

“Mom--”

“Can you come back home, Roman?” His mother says and Remus sees red.

Because, of course, she thought he was Roman. Of course. 

Red is the color of Roman. The color of his jacket and his shoes and the ball Remus should have thrown into the road when they were eight. The color of a past Remus can’t get rid of because every time he does anything he can only hear Roman’s voice in his head or picture his mom with her red lipstick telling him to take his pills and stop being so abnormal. It’s the color of a future that he can’t reach because every time he gets a little bit of hope he’s reminded that he’s unnecessary and forgettable. 

Red is the color of Remus’s blood that looks just like his twin’s but somehow has always been valued less to their mother.

He squeezes the handle of the phone so hard his fingers go numb from the pain, and the scarf around his wrist turns scarlet. His body trembles and bubbles and boils like its housing a volcano ready to erupt, or a thousand termites are trying to chew their way out of him, or every atom in his body is trying to shake themselves apart.

Remus is twenty one and four months old and he hangs up the phone so hard that it pops right back out of the slot and swings to the ground by its cord.

He doesn’t fix it. In fact he doesn’t even see it because he’s too busy seeing red. Too busy seeing Roman’s head collide with the bumper of a silver sedan, too busy seeing Roman’s neck break when he falls off the swingset wrong, too busy seeing Roman’s body on the ground of his carpet surrounded by the shattered remains of a snowglobe, too busy seeing all the things he should have done or let happen or helped happen.

Too busy knowing that hindsight is 2020 and Remus’s insides suddenly want to be outsides and his arm hurts and he wants to-- 

He wants to--

--“REMUS!” Dee shrieks from across the parking lot, sprinting towards him because he forgot that he can shapeshift into something faster. There’s a terror in his eyes, a fear, a horror in his expression that's like being stuck under a collapsed building and knowing that no one is gonna come. “REMUS! SOMEONE HELP!”---

--“REMUS!” Dee shrieks from across the parking lot, sprinting towards him because he forgot that he can shapeshift into something faster. There’s a terror in his eyes, a fear, a horror in his expression that's like being stuck under a collapsed building and knowing that no one is gonna come. “REMUS! SOMEONE HELP!”

But no one is close enough and Remus’s knots are a practiced stubborn thing that has his body convulsing before Dee remembers he can make claws and cut the scarf off.---

--“REMUS!” Dee shrieks from across the parking lot, sprinting towards him because he forgot that he can shapeshift into something faster. There’s a terror in his eyes, a fear, a horror in his expression that's like being stuck under a collapsed building and knowing that no one is gonna come. “REMUS! SOMEONE HELP!”

But no one is close enough and Remus’s knots are a practiced stubborn thing that has his body convulsing before Dee remembers he can make claws and cut the scarf off.

But by then Remus is already dead.---

But no that’s not right. 

He doesn’t want to die. 

His mouth tastes like metal, and he’s so sick of the taste of metal, of the smell of blood, of the sight of red on his clothes and on him. He’s so sick of being the weird twin, of being the one everyone wants to forget, of being gifted with a power that's so shitty it his own body rejects it. He’s so, so sick.

And tired.

And angry. 

That he spent all day trying to figure out what to say to his mother and she doesn’t even remember him. That his family pushed him away and now he watches himself jump off buildings or into traffic or off tables at a rest stop. That his skin feels too small and his mind too big and that there is absolutely nothing wrong with him but everyone still treated him like there was.

“Pardon me,” A voice says to his left. “Hello? Sir? You seem to be bleeding...”

It belongs to a guy with glasses, big thick blocky glasses that match every other part of him: his sharp jawline, his stiff spine, his set shoulders. It belongs to a guy with hair so dark it might as well have been a black hole, with eyes swirling with so many blues they looked like nebulas, with skin so pale it might as well have been the surface of the moon. It belongs to a guy that reaches out oh so carefully and touches Remus’s shoulder to check that he’s alright and---

-- “A stick in the mud?” Logan suggests sourly as they walk. The rain speckles his glasses and plasters his hair to his head.

“I was gonna say prude, but that works too,” His younger brother shrugs, sipping loudly from his drink. “Girl, you really just need to loosen up. You’re always so stressed!”

“I do not need to loosen up,” Logan counters, “In fact, if anything, I need to tighten up my interactions with people more. You saw what happened to the baristas at the Starbucks.”

“Yeah, and it was Awesome!” His brother motions to the drink in his hand, “Free drinks!”

“Will it still be awesome when they get fired and lose their source of income because they unwittingly gave away merchandise to customers?” Logan asks. He tugs his jackets around him tighter, hunching his shoulders and wishing that between the two of them they had thought to bring at least one umbrella.

His brother rolls his eyes because the rain doesn’t bother him anymore than the slight chill or the cars passing dangerously close to their sidewalk. “Honey,” He says, “Its two free drinks. It’s not gonna kill the infrastructure.”

Logan grunts, dismissing the rest of the argument as he was prone to do more often these days. “Remind me again why we’re here.”

“That prince dude is supposed to be around here today!”

“You mean, Princeps,” Logan corrects. “Assumedly named after the swordsmen from Roman armies pre-Marian reforms. Which does not make any sense considering that he does not carry a sword and his perceived power does not--”

“I wanna get his autograph!”

Logan squints back at his brother. “You want the autograph of a man who is running around the country in tights? You don’t even have anything for him to sign.”

His brother shakes his mostly empty drink and points to the spot right below where the barista had scratched out his own name, not that Logan can see it, or anything. “Duh.”

Logan shakes his head, as his brother prattles on about Princeps face, his biceps, his thighs. And as much as Logan enjoys listening to his brother talk about things that interest him, he wishes that it was something other than men that thought “superhero” was a stable dayjob. He sighs and removes his glasses and to clean them as best as he can with the raindrops being the nice of dimes.z

 He hates the rain, hates that he couldn’t ever see more than three feet when it so much as sprinkled, hates that his brother has no such problems at all and can continue walking without a care in the world.

“LOGAN!” His brother yells.

And Logan has just enough time to feel his stomach jump straight to his throat, before he walks blindly into an open manhole. His forehead slams on the outer rim so hard he sees actual stars in the corners of his blurry vision. And he fumbles and  flails and falls and...

And the empty air catches him, covets him, carries him off. Because he’s dead as soon as his head hits the concrete floor ten feet below---

Remus inhales like he’s been drowning for the past four years, and hasn’t been able to find the surface. He stumbles back from the stranger who had approached him, from the man who has a younger brother, who doesn’t like superheroes, who’s name is Logan. He stumbles back and feels the whole Earth roll under his feet, turning the solid ground to an uneven puddy.

Logan jerks back as well, be it shock or surprise or something in between and equally bad. He looks at Remus, the way that the first dealer from the Basilisk Casino had, the way that the new freshmen at their high school had when the older kids told them to steer clear of the guy who looked just like the theater star, the way that Roman had when he had first seen the orange bottle of pills that were supposed to make Remus not cry all the time.  

“My apologies, you seemed to be in distre--” Logan starts.

“Don’t touch me,” Remus says quicker, louder, angrier. Because Logan doesn’t know that he’s going to die some day in the future, that its going to be a stupid sudden death, that his brother that he actually loves and whom loves him back is going to witness it. Because Remus doesn’t know why he knows either.

His skin blisters and bubbles and itches in a way that tells him he needs to take it off. His arm burns from the scratches, his blood is making his hand and wrist all sticky and his head feels a bit like cotton. His mouth tastes like Starbucks Hot chocolate and ash. 

“Don’t touch me,” Remus says again, because he feels radioactive and can smell petrichor in the air and everything about it is wrong. If he says anything else he thinks he might throw up or cry or both and he doesn’t think anything other than more blood can come up.

Remus turns and runs. 

“Remus?” Dee asks, when Remus throws himself into the passenger seat the way he should have that morning.

Remus shakes his head. And keeps shaking it because if he stops his thoughts will catch up and then they’ll really be in trouble.

“Drive,” He manages between his inconsolable gulps for air.

“Where?” Dee asks.

“Don’t care.”

He doesn’t. He just needs to be somewhere other than here.

Remus is twenty one and four months and he’s no stranger to travelling without a destination. Dee buckles his seat belt and pulls out of the parking spot without another word. Remus brings his knees to his head and counts, and counts, and counts. If he closes his eyes he thinks that he might see the silhouette of Logan standing next to the payphones staring at his hand still so he doesn’t close his eyes.

“That’s just what I’m saying, John.” The radio says, “All these new people with what can only be classified as “superpowers” and what is the Police doing about this? Nothing!” 

“Hotel,” Dee says, “We can order some food there and actually look at those marks on your arm.”

“Whatever,” Remus says.

“Well what do you expect the Police to do?” The radio says, “Their answer to everything is “shoot it.” I don’t know about you, but I don’t want the police shooting at a kid who just so happened to be able to make lightning. You heard about that incident in the Idahoan Mall didn't you? Times are changing. It's up to the people to police themselves now.”

Dee sticks his tongue out ever so slightly, like a snake smelling the air.

“You’re encouraging the actions of people like that dragon guy from that incident? The child from that event is in the hospital right now. 

“So is the man that had been robbing the store. Which is better than him being the morgue. I’m not saying that I think that putting children in the hospital is a good idea! I’m saying that only protecting the lives of “good” people is telling everyone to become judge, jury, and executioner. The Idaho Mall Incident could have been handled better-- in fact I think if the new guy, the one around the east wearing the white? You know the one I’m talking about, Karen.”

“Yeah, yeah, the Prince? I think he called himself Prince.” 

“Yes. If the Prince had been the one who had handled the Idaho Mall, it could have been handled completely peacefully, without either parties having ended up in the hospital.”

Dee grips the steering wheel, tightly.

Remus reaches out and turns the radio off.

[Part 5]

[in-tua-deep]

tua s1 rewatch with my roommate

episode one (I forgot for the first episode oops):

I have been treated to pictures of a lovely cosplay of Klaus who won a cosplay contest my roommate was in !!

Klaus putting his arm in front of Five during the funeral fight is good shit

“I have heard like nothing about Vanya” “yeah that’s pretty much how she’s treated in show as well”

“I can see why he’s the fandom favorite” - about Klaus

“Istanbul is in the firST EPISODE?”

I forGOT about the “rapists can climb” line when he breaks into Vanya’s apartment omg but also like,, his dumb arm wound

Episode two:

HERR CARLSON

Aww baby fives first time travel his little smile. Baby. Baby boy. And the dawning horror in the apocalypse baby nO

Five: you got anything stronger

Also five: takes one sip and then fills up more, takes another sip, and then immediately puts it down ?????

The motel dude for hazel and cha cha just looks at them like “yeah these are serial killers” and just rolls with it

Also actually why tf doesn’t the commission spring for better stuff?? Why would they cut costs?? They time travel? They could game the stock market so hard ?????? Give the assassins their own rooms omg

Also why didn’t five like. Crush his tracker. Why did he just leave it whole and intact outside of the Griddys.

Forgot how much I love Agnes

(Oh man it is storming bad here it just BOOMED)

Also idk if Diego actually deserved that taser hmmmmm but also like,, communication lads five was literally right there killing people and Diego is like “hmm something is up here” like. Yeah Diego ur big brother “I can get my sibling in trouble for something” senses are tingling

Wow I really did repress all these Allison and Luther scenes huh. Also it’s still super cute that Allison read Claire moon books

Allison: dads heart gave out, which wasn’t how I was expecting to find out dad had a heart but it tracks

“SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE BEN... said with love 😘”

Did five actually sleep at Vanyas?? The sofa looks undisturbed but he had to wait for work hours to interrogate the meritech people,, five,, please sleep. The whole “IF YOU CALL ME YOUNG MAN ONE MORE TIME” interaction makes more sense with five on. Zero sleep.

I didn’t remember that Patch straight up knows about the umbrella academy oops. Like she clocks Diego as overcompensating for his childhood. Queen

Is that an umbrella adademy Diego cross stitch on Diego’s wall?? Did he buy that? Make it?? Did grace make it?

Vanya, walking into the academy: five??? five? pspspspspsps

Also like. Who was Vanyas therapist??? Clearly they did not help her

Aww the tow truck driver :(

I know the show wants me to dislike Patrick I KNOW,, and I think her fathers funeral is extenuating circumstance?? But still Patrick is valid for not giving an inch regarding his ex who mind controlled his child. Vanya didn’t really deserve Allison snapping at her but like. She had some good points. Allison arguably would have had to deal with vanyas book more than anyone else

Five smiling proudly at Klaus’s drama at meritech bless but also KLAUS DONT BREAK GLASS ON YOURSELF

Me, spotting Leonard: BASTARD

Love how everyone greets Diego in the gym and don’t question all his knives or anything like “yeah that’s Diego he lives here and loves knives :)”

Why could Leonard have not been like. A normal ass guy. Vanya needs friends who sympathize with her holy shit get this person some socialization

Pogo really did have to lead these kids by hand to the recording rooms because literally no one was super invested in reginalds ~murder mystery~

ahafahJAGSJWGAI MY ROOMMATE JUST SAID POGO IS THE BEST CHARACTER SO FAR,,,, I will probably never include pogo in my fics because I do Not Care About Him lmaoooo

Aww five does to see Dolores and being like “it’s been a rough couple of days :(“,,,,, baby,,,, but also tag yourself I’m hazel going “elastic wrist splint yesssssss”

Five I am begging you PLEASE get some sleep

OH FIVE SHAKING DIEGO IN THE APOCALYPSE TO TRY AND WAKE HIM UP OHHHHH OH :(

Episode 3:

my roommate is super faceblind which is an issue bc she identifies people mainly by hairstyle so seeing the s2 stuff on tumblr is tripping her over bc she keeps seeing diego and going ??? who is that again? bc she’s seen his longer hair

okay there is no way that the eggs that grace put in that pan are the ones that ended up on the smiley face breakfast plate,,, but also grace that whole scene was a mood honestly i would be like “okay maybe mom killed dad BUT he deserved it sooooo”

“what the FUCK” - my roommate about cha-cha’s shitty wound care where she holds a curling iron against her arm

i didn’t remember that five got shOT AT THE DEPARTMENT STORE did i just erase that from my memory?? i mean yeah it’s a graze but he stitches it up and then slaps a bandaid on it so he has a wound that needed stitches on his shoulder for the entire show ??????? is he okay???? that would make moving your arm,,, painful,,,,,

a bandaid just slapped over it i’m actively yelling

“Sometimes when I see a million gifs of a show before I watch I get really surprised when they talk but he is exactly what I expected” - my roommate, about five

“I noticed they’ve only really showed diego in really badly lit scenes so far” - my roommate defending her lack of ability to recognize diego

i’m still laughing about pogo literally having to point out the murder tapes and now allison and luther are investigating and just. allison is lowkey defending grace and i’m laughing

“why is he saying woodwork is embarrassing that’s like one of the most middle of the wood hobbies to have. you’re respectable to grandpas who used to carve wooden ducks AND twenty-year-olds who can’t make anything to save their lives” - my roommate on leonard peabody

“i think he’s already crossing some lines he’s met this lady ONCE” - roommate on leonard/vanya

five having flashbacks in the car :(

did allison and luther draw straws for who went to fetch which sibling?? allison was like “dibs on vanya” and luther was just like “aww :(”

five luther and klaus in the van - BOYS NIGHT BOYS NIGHT let’s go pick up diego

“the coat he’s wearing does have a nice swish to it” - roommate about klaus’s coat

luther being like “you’re just as messed up as the rest of us and we’re all you have” like luther,,, baby,,,,, you literally ARE all he has,,,,,, his family is the only thing he’s really cared about since he was thirteen and maybe before then :(

“I can’t tell if those are supposed to be cake or yeast donuts... i think extruded donuts are cake donuts but she said she lets them rise so maybe they’re yeast?” - my roommate focusing on all the things that i do not

sometimes i forget that hazel and cha-cha pretended to be private detectives trying to find a lost child in a potentially dangerous situation,,, five would be disgusted

“she shouldn’t get a vote” “i was gonna say i agree with you” “she should get a vote!!” this is peak sibling energy honestly i think i’ve had that exact interaction with my siblings voting for a movie or something

“hashtag android rights” 

“I want to be the tailor who gets a call one day that says ‘i want you to make clothes for a chimpanzee”

is it telling that only luther in the flashback didn’t really talk to grace at all,, i mean five didn’t either but i think he was gone by that point in the flashback ???? 

wait diego tells grace that she worked for him for thirty years,,, the kids are 29 and later it’s implied she was built bc vanya kept killing nannies when they were like four but maybe s2 clarifies that some more?? or diego just is rounding up

“that’s an interesting fabric to her skirt” - my roommate about grace’s outfit

forgot that hazel and cha cha broke the door to the manor busting in,, do they ever fix that?? we’re only at episode three do they spend the rest of the season with their door open to anyone on the streets

okay that bathtub is WAY too small to allow for klaus to be moving his elbows about like that underwater smh

“how is HE useful on mission??” my roommate about klaus

where is the SECURITY SYSTEM??? luther LITERALLY said that reggie was more paranoid and yet some assassin can just bust down the door and have unrestricted access????? he built a whole ROBOT but no security system????????

“maybe it was like,, practice for the kids? someone breaks in and they take care of it? wait no that doesn’t explain the thirteen years they’ve been gone?”

“why WAS he on the moon?” - about luther

“I want to see what she’s embroidering!!” about grace during the gunfight in the living room she’s absolutely ignoring diego getting shot at

what is a rope-a-dope,,,, diego yells “EVER HEARD OF A ROPE-A-DOPE???” at luther but like. no i haven’t. what does that MEAN diego

aww i forgot they played sinnerman, love that song

“what are you doing dude, rumor has it you’re not shooting at me that’s all you need to do” i mean. the roommate is not wrong. allison could just end the fight with a yell. i understand she’s pissed off and has rumor trauma but like cha cha is actively trying to murder them

how is luther not winning he literally has super strength. does hazel have super strength? just punch the man and knock him out jesus y’all suck at this smh

why is there such intense music we all been knew about luther’s strength - oH HIS BODY

forgot about that

is it allison’s fault that klaus got kidnapped because she didn’t literally just rumor them to give up?? like she literally has that power. she could have been like “i heard a rumor you left and forgot about us” it didn’t even need to be violent?? i understand she has rumor trauma but this i feel is allowable circumstances

diego showing his worry about vanya by getting angry which honestly i think all the siblings do that rip none of these idiots have even heard of healthy communication in their LIVES

you know,, i don’t think vanya can drive. she takes the bus. she took a taxi to leonard’s house. we see her walking a lot. does she know how to drive?? i imagine that the umbrella academy were taught bc of mission related stuff but,,, vanya wasn’t?? that’s just depressing tbh

[aion-rsa]

Val Kilmer Documentary Punctures the Actor’s Bad Boy Myth

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Leo Scott and Ting Poo’s new documentary feature, Val, is not a mortality play. It is a rehearsal for an upcoming act. During a tour of his one-man stage show, Citizen Twain, Val Kilmer was diagnosed with throat cancer. The actor underwent two tracheostomies, and now can only speak while covering a tube. The narration of the new film is thus done by his son Jack Kilmer, allowing the pair to share a non-verbal connection throughout the journey, and through time and expression itself. While there are flourishes of humor, the documentary is a serious study of an artist who has always struggled to be understood, told through the selective memory of Kilmer’s POV.

“I’ve wanted to tell a story about acting for a very long time,” Kilmer says toward the beginning of the documentary. “And now that it’s difficult to speak, I want to tell my story more than ever.” Kilmer is an artist, one who takes his vocation very seriously and introspectively. An actor’s voice is more than a tool, it is their primary source of communication. Non-verbal exchanges are important, but dialogue is the primary idea delivery system in staged and filmed works. Surgical procedures have split his throat, shredding the scope of his instrument. In the film, Kilmer is forced to project his story on the empty space between the notes.

Among Kilmer’s many defining roles, the one which appears to ring truest is his encapsulation of Jim Morrison, the poet and lead vocalist of the Doors in Oliver Stone’s 1991 biopic, The Doors. The young Kilmer is shown onstage in a small club, lost in the music, awaiting his cue to become one with the mic. Moments in Kilmer’s personal history, like how the actor was tagged with a “difficult” label, are consigned to rests. The most overt reference to Kilmer’s “bad boy” reputation comes from Robert Downey Jr., who smashes the notoriety to bits in a moment of impromptu dismissal.

There is no gossip here. There is no discussion of A-list-bad behavior. Kilmer sees it all as artistic license.  He was searching for honesty, he remembers. Choices like lying on top of a mattress filled with ice in order to feel a real pain during his last scene with Kurt Russell in Tombstone come across as perfectly valid. Kilmer is still bitter over spending four months learning to play guitar for Top Secret!, and his first note informs him the director thinks he looks funnier faking it. There is little evidence of unprofessionalism, only growing pains.

The bulk of Val comes from clips of 8mm home video footage Kilmer has been shooting most of his life. “I’ve kept everything, and it’s been sitting in boxes for years,” Kilmer informs us. The archive was intended to tell a story about “where you end and the acting begins.” We are gifted with moon shots of both Kevin Bacon and Sean Penn, which have nothing to do with the films Apollo 13 or The First.

Early self-directed screen tests provoke a series of what-ifs. A tortuous encapsulation of a Juilliard acting class is a lesson in what-nots. Val’s hand-held approach to The Island of Dr. Moreau is a highlight. The actor respectfully rocks his co-star and idol, Marlon Brando, on a hammock they both wish was strung to John Frankenheimer. Please turn off the camera, the film’s replacement director demands. But Kilmer only hits pause when it’s time to rehearse.

The behind-the-scenes camcorder footage from sets of Top Gun, Tombstone, and The Doors are treasure troves in themselves, and possibly underused. Most of the audience will be very interested in the candid youth and truth recorded over his career. Val uses the archival clips and unearthed b-roll to establish a chronology.

Many videos were made at home in Los Angeles with Kilmer’s younger brother Wesley, who had an epileptic seizure and drowned at age 15. His death casts a mournful pall following the news that Val was the youngest applicant ever accepted as a drama student at Juilliard. Kilmer calls his brother “an artistic genius,” and one of the most revealing things to come out of the documentary is how often Kilmer used this brother’s art to augment the backgrounds of the sets he is living through on film.

Seeing how Stone speaks about Kilmer now makes me wonder if Val would have been able to put in the same performances in his movies if he knew it at the time. In his audition tapes for Full Metal Jacket and Goodfellas, we see an actor who needs to be taken seriously. He flies 6,000 miles to hand deliver his tape to Stanley Kubrick in London.

While he makes no comment, footage reveals Kilmer’s favorite Batman was played by Adam West. “Every boy wants to be Batman,” we hear, and see the Caped Crusader in every era of Kilmer’s life. A short, animated film he and his brother made with what looks like crayon is a Batman spoof. He still glories in the moment he got deposited behind the classic TV series’ iconic wheels as a youngster visiting the lot. It appears Kilmer still can’t pass a grocery store Batmobile without feeding it quarters. He wears the classic blue Halloween ensemble expecting tricks and treats as a kid, and as a daddy with his kids.

Don’t expect to see Kilmer wearing his cinematic puffed rubber suit at home, and it’s not because he left it at the dry cleaners. Footage old and new, homemade or professionally recorded, presents the Batsuit as an albatross. Heavy rests the cowl. He has to be lifted from chairs, deposited on marks, and his only identifying feature on the set of Batman Forever is a chin and bottom lip. Anyone could have been behind the mask, and the human superhero envied the subhuman villains. Kilmer comes across as quite happy Jim Carrey and Tommy Lee Jones are able to create fully formed performance art in their portrayals. But he wanted to play with those toys.

“Batman Forever,” Kilmer laments, “whatever boyish excitement I had going in was crushed by the reality of the Batsuit. I realized it was just my job to show up and stand where they told me.” As the captured past footage is juxtaposed with modern sequences, we get an unfiltered glimpse of how little this has changed. The sequence of Kilmer at the Comic-Con autograph booth is wrenching. He initially didn’t want to take the part of Iceman in Top Gun because he felt it glorified the military. So many fans ask him to sign “You can be my wingman” on their souvenirs. It turns his stomach. He throws up in a garbage can and wheeled through hallways with a blanket over his head. Trouper that he is, he returns to the booth to finish out the signatures.

Kilmer blurred himself into the role of Mark Twain. There is a beautiful sequence where the actor walks through town to the beach, in full stage makeup, dressed in the signature white suit and long mustache of his character. It is extremely telling when Kilmer tells the camera it’s hard enough writing a good screenplay, much less a great one, which itself doesn’t even match what he feels he needs to bring to a script of a film version of Citizen Twain. Kilmer sold his ranch in New Mexico to finance the project. The documentary only captures some of the frustrations.

Most of the anecdotes are guarded, and all the admissions are part of a subjective narrative. Kilmer’s arc has rough edges, these tales are too smooth, and leave little room for impressionistic interpretation. Kilmer met his former wife, Joanne Whalley, when she was starring in a West End play directed by Danny Boyle, but he didn’t approach her.

“She was brilliant, and I was in town making fluff,” Kilmer concedes. It’s all about the art, even appearances. The documentary hints that Kilmer’s dedication to character did the most damage to their relationship. Wearing the same pair of leather pants for nine months could almost be on the books as probable cause for divorce in Hollywood.

Similarly, Kilmer’s Christian Science upbringing is brought up, and dropped. There is a loving but ambiguous undertone to Kilmer’s relationship with his once-rich-and-powerful father, who put his son in debt after trying to become a southern California land tycoon. But a sequence on his Swedish mother which juxtaposes a car ride he took with her when he was a child with one of being driven to her funeral speaks volumes without words.

Val is about the next step. “What’s past is prologue” William Shakespeare wrote in The Tempest. Kilmer pondered the “too, too solid flesh” while rehearsing Hamlet, and the documentary opens after the actor faced his own mortality. Kilmer swears he feels better than he sounds and, while he finds little to regret in his memories, he expects less in the ones he has yet to create.

Val can be seen on Amazon Prime Video.

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[doof-doofblog]

"He's My Brother?!"

Tuesday 16th March 2021

Part One

Hello again everyone, hope you're all doing well! I wanted to share some personal news with you, I received my first Covid-19 vaccine yesterday, we're slowly on the path on getting things back to some form of normality! Who knows, maybe soon EastEnders might be able to go back to its original 30 minutes, even though I'm enjoying it and don't care how long the episodes are, it'll just feel normal, right? Anyway, I've seen a few spoilers regarding these two episodes, I'm really intrigued to write about these episodes. Tuesday aired two episodes of EastEnders so I'll be doing two posts to review each one.

Monday's episode ended on such a cliff-hanger, it's only right that I start this blog with mentioning Lucas and Chelsea first. The episode opened right there Monday left off, Chelsea and Lucas are at the airport preparing to go to Ibiza with suitcases full of drugs. Chelsea's suitcase is currently being checked, she's stood in absolute panic about what the security guard is going to find. Only when he reveals a bottle being over the correct amount she's allowed to take, I got really confused! I was completely and utterly convinced that Lucas had given Chelsea the drugs as a way of teaching her a lesson, and not in a bad way but in a cruel-to-be-kind kind of way. But as soon as Lucas begins to walk through with his suitcase, Chelsea hears commotion from behind and Lucas is surrounded by armed guards. The interesting thing is, Lucas doesn't hesitate, calmly and willingly, he drops the suitcase, opens it up to reveal the amount of drugs stored inside it, Chelsea watches on in dismay as her Father basically gives up on the whole job. Lucas looked over at his daughter, but the look on his face, I couldn't quite tell what he was doing? Was he doing this to save his daughter?

Frantically, Chelsea later arrives home, informing her Mum that Lucas has been arrested and he plain and simply gave up the drugs as if he'd planned it. Denise is visibly shook to hear but she's more relieved to know that Chelsea is safe and no harm has come to her, as far as she's concerned, Lucas can look after himself, whereas Chelsea needs her family around her. However, Chelsea seems to think that Lucas has given up the job on purpose, and now because the job hasn't gone through, Chelsea and the rest of the family could be in danger.

Returning to the airport, Lucas has been taken to side room, there he is begging the officer to allow him one phone call. At first the officer seems to think he's part of a drug gang and is wanting a call to let his comrades know about his arrest, however when Lucas mentions that it's to do with his family and that they could be in danger, it looks as if the police officer suspects he could be telling the truth and allows the phone call. As Denise and Chelsea are at home, Jack is there trying to keep them calm and discuss what actions could be taken due to Lucas's arrest, but of course his main concern is to keep Denise and Chelsea safe, if Caleb finds out the job hasn't been done, he knows that the Fox family could be in huge danger, he instructs them to not go on their phones and don't answer any calls or answer the door to anyone but himself. It's then that he receives a phone call from Lucas, pleading to for his help. What on Earth could Lucas be asking of Jack? Will Lucas be okay? (Of course some of you may have already seen the second episode, but as I haven't, I'm going to be speculating, please no spoilers, thank you!)

--

The next thing I want to mention is Bailey and Bernadette. The sisters are still deeply saddened by Bronson's passing, but as they sit in the park with Mitch, they continue to discuss Bronson's personality and his favourite foods. Always the best way to remember a happy doggo! Unfortunately, as the family reminisce about their beloved pup, Mitch has devastating when he hears a job opportunity had fell through, which he was hoping would keep him going until the winter. Are the Taylor family falling on hard times? Are they really struggling for money so much right now?

Bailey however tries to reassure her Dad, informing him that he has to keep positive as something will come up eventually, but she also drops the bombshell that he wouldn't have to pray for Astronomy Camp for her as she didn't win her competition, both Bernie and Mitch voice their disappointment for Bailey as she begins to feel sorry for herself.  But suddenly a little surprise makes the young girl begin to smile, a little dog approaches her as she holds food in her hand, it appears to not be wearing a collar and no one is around to claim the dog, must be a stray. Happily Bailey interacts with dog and smiles to her Dad that it's a sign from Bronson.

Seeing the little pup bring a smile back onto his daughter's face, he later approaches Karen about the possibility of keeping the new found dog. I also just want to mention how adorable the new dog is, I know not many dog last for long on the Square, but it would be nice for them to fill the void of Bronson. I don't think EastEnders have ever had a better dog since Wellard. They need a pet who's going to become memorable, and with one as adorable as this new pup, it could really work. Karen unfortunately is against the idea of getting a new dog, mainly because they can't afford it. But something tells me that maybe she's just not ready to get over Bronson, maybe? I feel if you've been able to afford a dog before, there's no reason why you can't get another one after? Right?! Mitch really wants to cheer his daughter up, I'm hoping Mitch will go and find the new dog, adopt him and bring him in to their family.

--

The next thing I have to mention is Ash and Suki, after finding her daughter at home alone with Peter, Suki takes it upon herself to confront Ash about the fact that she's been suspended from work, of course she has no idea why, but we all know it's because of Peter begging her to give him pain medication whilst off duty. As the ladies begin to argue, Ash tries to reassure her Mum that everything will be fine when she attends the hearing, she'll be able to explain and she'll get her job back. But Suki begins to fret, considering how much she cares for her family, and more so their reputation, I reckon?

Peter takes it upon himself to interrupt, informing Suki that Ash wouldn't have been suspended if it wasn't for him, this makes Suki realise that it's all Peter's fault, but the devastating blow is that her daughter could potentially lose her job because of a boy! Later on, as things begin to cool off, Suki is alone at the family business as Ash visits her, without Peter in tow. She begs her Mum to not worry and let things slide as she and Peter have a plan of way of getting her job back, but Suki seems to really struggle as the realisation sinks in, she voices that the reason she's so upset is that was she so proud of her daughter for getting so far with her career, for the job role she took on in life, how she has become successful in life, and now she fears that because of Peter, everything could be taken away from her! For me, I found it interesting to see this side of Suki, we know she loves the idea of power and success, but to actually hear that she's proud of one of her children, seems that maybe she really just wants the best for her family.

--

Okay, now the main event! After hearing the news that Gavin has passed away, Kathy and Sharon are discussing whether to attend the memorial. Of course, Sharon isn't interested in sharing memories of her biological Father, needless to say she doesn't have any fond memories of him, Gavin did have a bad reputation after all. Kathy however, considering as she was married to him once - I'm assuming, we know for sure she loved him and/or dated him, is considering going, whether Sharon joins her or not. As far as Sharon is concerned he can "Rot in hell!"

However, after a few wise words from Callum about Dad's in general, regardless whether they were pigs or not, it's always best to be the bigger person, Sharon then decides to tag along with Kathy and attend the memorial. As the arrive Kathy realises that she recognises a few faces, where of course Sharon knows nobody. Sally, Gavin's sister approaches them and thanks Kathy for coming, regardless of the awful things Gavin did, she makes the valid point that she did love him once.

As they look around the room, there is one bloke in particular who seems to be downing a lot more alcohol than others, he seems to be banging to people and knocking into the bar, eventually this man decides to make a speech, but it's not one of the speeches you'd expect. But however, to Sharon's interest, he seems to be saying things which she would actually agree with. Gavin was the scum of all scumbags. This speech however doesn't sit well with other family members and the young man dashes over chairs and tables to escape the angry mob!

As Kathy and Sharon make their exit, they watch as everyone gathers in the parking lot. However Sharon seems to have somehow managed to get her hands on Gavin's urn, without a second thought she simply dumps it into a litter bin, much to Kathy's shock. Looking for the drunken, suspicious man who rudely corrupted the memorial, both Kathy and Sharon seem to notice that their car has been left un-open. Realising that the young man could be hiding in their car, they make a subtle entrance and sit in the front seats. This scene looked like something out of a comedy, the young man appears between them in the backseat, shushing them not to give away his hiding place. Unfortunately, for the young man, the angry mob begin taking their anger out on his sports car - I did find this pretty comical as Kathy and Sharon both describing the damage being made to his car as he hides on the backseat. After the angry mob seem to finish off the last of their damage and head back into the building, Kathy asks the young man his connection with Gavin, how did he know him? Why was he at the memorial? Were they business partners or something?

But then as he walks away, he drops the big bombshell, introducing himself as Zack and that Gavin was in fact his Dad! As he walks away to his damaged car, both Kathy and Sharon look at each other in their shock as they come to realise Sharon has a brother she never knew existed!

Now I just want to say, most of us recall what happened when Sharon found out about another long-lost brother, however, I have to make the valid point that Dennis was in fact an adoptive brother. Den Watts was her adoptive father, so technically Sharon and Dennis were never really blood related, which I guess is why their romance can be looked to one side, however, Zack would be Sharon's Half-Brother! People might think history will be repeating itself if Zack was to become Sharon's new love interest, but I'd hope that EastEnders wouldn't go down the route of incest. It would be interesting though to see how Sharon will come to terms with knowing about her secret brother, will she want to build a relationship with him? Will he want to know her? Could they bond knowing that they've both had such a horrid man for a Father? Who knows?

I'm really looking forward to seeing the second episode following this one, I will be posting about it tomorrow, but in the mean time please no spoilers for me. I'll look forward to blogging about it tomorrow! Thank you again for reading! Love you all xXx  

[peacedolantwins]

Pain and Embarrassment

Part of my Family series, takes place after Come Home Safe

It was an accident. It was supposed to be a one time thing and even that was a mistake. But he couldn’t stop.

Ethan found himself captivated by one of the girls in his office.

She was tall, beautiful, with light brown hair that she wore in curls down to her waist. Her green eyes drew him in every time he looked at her.

He had taken her out to dinner as an employee appreciation gift but she got flirty and more touchy as the night went on and before he knew it, he found himself slipping out of her bed feeling nothing but shame.

Shame he had done this. Shame he had cheated on you. Shame he had cheated on you while you were home with the kids.

He regretted it more than anything in his life.

The next day at work he filed the paperwork to move her to another department. He hoped having her out of range would get rid of the temptation.

But she kept coming back to visit. She would bring him lunch. She’d take him out for lunch, except it didn’t end there. More often than not the two of them would end up in the backseat of his car.

He had finally managed to completely put a stop to it, not being able to come home and see you looking so happy when you had no idea what he was doing.

That was until she made a final trip to his office.

“It’s sad really. You were willing to lose your family because you couldn’t keep it in your pants,” she took a seat across his desk and crossed her legs.

“I bet you want to keep that family don’t you? How do you think the misses would feel? You’re here screwing some girl while she’s home with the kids? How bad do you want to keep this a secret?”

“What do you want?” He swallowed deeply.

“I want a raise. And some vacation time, paid of course.” She said calmly as if she wasn’t threatening to ruin his family.

But he did that on his own didn’t he?

“I’ll take care of it.” He didn’t have a choice. He could make a higher paycheck work. He could work with time off.

But then she wanted more. She wanted a private office. A company credit card. A company car. He couldn’t do that. Not only would other employees notice but so would Grayson if he glanced at the finance reports.

When he told her he wouldn’t do that she pulled up the pictures she had. Pictures he didn’t even know she took of him lying in her bed. Him at dinners. Pictures she took of the two of them in his house. She threatened to sell them to magazines or the highest bidder.

She could only imagine the paycheck for exposing a high ranked business owner as a cheating husband.

But Ethan began to realize something.

She was going to do it anyway.

Eventually she would run out of things to ask for and she would put it out there for everyone to see.

So he had a plan. A plan he should have thought through a lot more.

Ethan set up an interview with a morning talk show for a few days later and when the time came, no one was prepared for what he had to say.

“Good morning, we’re here with Ethan Dolan, one of the owners and CEOs of one of the biggest companies in the country. You said on the phone that you wanted to clear some things up?” The host mentioned.

“That’s right. Recently there’s been something going on in my life that I’m not proud of. A woman who works with me has threatened to expose that part of my life if I don’t give into her demands and I’m not letting that happen. I would rather I say my side of what happened before any rumors have the chance to appear.” He took a breath.

“About a year ago, a dinner with a colleague turned into a mistake that I deeply regret. After that night I swore I was done but I found myself going back to her time and time again. Once I finally ended it she came to me with demands which I gave into. But the longer I did, the more she started to ask for and I couldn’t do that. She threatened to go to my wife, Y/n, with pictures I never knew she took. I would rather she heard it from me than some girl she doesn’t know.”

The host and the audience were silent.

“What did your wife have to say when you told her?” The host asked cautiously.

“...what?” Ethan was confused until he realized it, he hadn’t even told you yet.

“Are you saying you didn’t talk to her about this before you came here?” She pressed.

“No, I guess I didn’t,” He cringed at himself.

-

You watched the interview in shock. He told you he was doing an interview this morning but this wasn’t what you expected at all.

You were grateful you had the day off from work because you didn’t think you would be able to take the looks from your coworkers.

The kids.

You checked your phone and saw you had missed calls from both Alex and Riley, along with texts from them saying they saw what happened.

Kids could be cruel when they wanted to be and you didn’t want your children in that environment right now. Summer break was three days away and it’s not like the kids actually had assignments to do at this point anyways.

You: I’m on my way, text your brothers. I’m picking up Lizzy first.

When you got to the school to pull your ten year old daughter out, the front office staff looked at you with pity and didn’t ask too many questions when you signed her out which you were thankful for.

“Mama, how come we’re leaving?” Elise asked once you were back in the car.

“We’re gonna go visit grandma and grandpa for a while, my mom and dad,” you explained. It technically wasn’t a lie, that’s where you were going, just not the reason why.

You pulled up at the boys high school, grateful they were all finally at the same school and didn’t need to make another trip.

“Liz, stay in the car okay?” You got out and locked the doors.

You quickly went to the attendance office and were surprised to see your children already waiting for you. Usually you had to sign them out before they could leave class but you weren’t going to ask how they managed to get out.

“Mom-“ Alex started.

“Not right now please, we can talk about it later but not right now.” You never wanted to drive upset.

Riley got in the front seat while Alex climbed in the back with Noah and Liz.

“Here, book flights to California while I’m driving,” you handed him your phone.

They were old enough to know what was going on and didn’t ask as to why.

“Ma, it’s almost $4,000…” he trailed off.

“Book them.” You didn’t care about the price. You made enough on your own without Ethan and considering how much money he gave his side girl he could afford it.

Riley did as you said and told you the flight left in 3 hours.

Once you got back to the house you quickly grabbed the luggage from the spare room and handed a bag to each child.

“Pack what you need and anything else we can buy over there. I want to be out of here in 20 minutes.” They all nodded and took off to their rooms.

You decided to go help Elise pack, knowing she would have a hard time deciding what was important. You grabbed a few outfits for her, her favorite shoes, along with a few other things and crammed them into the suitcase, not caring everything would be wrinkled. That could be taken care of later.

You quickly shoved a few pairs of jeans and tops into your own suitcase and zipped it up.

Everyone met you downstairs by the door and after asking to make sure everyone had everything you were set to go.

The boys threw everything in the car while you got Lizzy calmed down a bit.

Once at the airport you did your best to blend in. You didn’t want anyone getting photos of you and your family during the worst time in their lives.

The flight was long and tiring and the majority of the time you found yourself holding back tears as you shut your eyes.

How could Ethan do this? Why would he do this? Were you not enough for him? Did your family really mean that little to him that he would throw it away for some girl? And why would he air your dirty laundry on national television for everyone to see before he even told you of it? He said it started a year ago and that was the same time that it happened… is that why he went to another woman?

Once off the plane and in the car with your mom and children, you pulled out your phone to see dozens of missed calls and texts from Ethan.

E: I can explain

E: y/n please

E: I’m so sorry

E: she meant nothing

E: I should have told you before

E: please pick up

E: where are you? Where are the kids?

E: baby please don’t do this

E: I’m so sorry please come home and we can talk

E: I’ll fix this I promise what do you want me to do?

E: you aren’t picking up and neither are the kids please just answer

E: just let me know you’re okay please

E: I called your mom and she told me to fuck off and stay away from you so I’m guessing you went back to California

E: I’ll give you some space

All of those were from hours ago and from the looks on your kids faces in the backseat you saw they had similar messages from their father. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

You could cry later once you were alone. Right now your children needed their mother. And once they were okay, you needed yours.

It had been hours since Ethan completely screwed up everything. He was waiting by the phone for a message from you or the kids but nothing. Until he heard it ring and he read the message.

Alex: leave us alone and stop bothering mom, you’ve done enough.

Pls give me validation and like/comment/reblog thank you

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[notyetneedcoffee]

Assassin For Hire 5

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: not for this chapter, other than the angst that goes with this story

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip as he continued to stare out the car window. The two of you parked across the street of the Boys and Girls Club watching the kids play. His eyesight was far better than yours, and he quoted Sarah’s words every now and again. Her brother was in school all day, but Sarah’s school had a something called a Teacher’s Day and were let out at noon. Thus, she went to the Club for the remainder of the afternoon.  

“We should interrogate her.”  

“What?” Your head whipped around.  

“Sarah.” Bucky said seriously. “We should interrogate her.”

“She’s a child.”

“Who’s tried to hire me to kill someone.” His frown deepened. “We know Abruzzo’s a bad guy. We know she’s wrapped up in it somehow. I’m not willing to run in circles to pull at all threads. She’s just going to tell me.” His voice lowered, growing tight. “Like you said, she’d a child.”

You went inside, easily lying your way into the administration office. They’d seen you at the Avengers event. Making up a story about what Sarah wrote on her comment card, you requested to have a few minutes with her. They thought you were going to offer her an extra Avenger adventure.  

Pacing around the little office you flipped open the window. Bucky slipped inside without a sound to wait behind the door. After a moment the door opened. Sarah feet stopped as soon as she saw you, causing the woman behind her to stumble.

“Thank you, Miss Miller.” You smiled. “Sarah, come on in. Shut the door, please.”

“Let me know if you need anything.” Miss Miller smiled and closed the door.  

Sarah’s face went blank. You pulled a black device about the size of roll of toilet paper out of your back. Hitting the blue button. The girl frowned. “What’s that?”

“Sound buffer.” Bucky said quietly from behind her.

Sarah jumped but tried to hide it.  “What for?”  

“We need to have a talk.” Bucky crossed his arms, scowling down at the little girl. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the floor. Bucky studied this little thing in front of him, all skinny legs and arms, and iron will. He pulled a chair closer and sat, bring his eyes closer to hers. “I’ve looked into things. I know Abruzzo is a bad guy. I know your brother has you doing things you don’t want...”

“Not his fault.” Her eyes shot up.  

“Then who’s fault is it? What’s the tie to Abruzzo?” Bucky leaned a little closer.  

Sarah frowned, but didn’t look away. “Just...”

“No. You will tell me why.”

Bucky watched her pulse quicken, her lip tremble. Before she turned it to anger. “If you’re just going to turn your back, then fine...”

He grabbed her upper arms, forcing her to look at him. “I’m not. I will deal with that little bastard, but you will tell me how you’re connected.”

She shook her head, biting her lip.

“Yes. You have too.” Bucky’s voice softened. “I know you’re scared, but if I’m going to protect you then I need to know what’s going on.”

“I don’t care about me.” She whispered.

“I do.” Bucky still held her firm with one hand, but petted her har with the other. “So, you tell me. What’s the connection? Your brother? What does he owe Abruzzo?”

“No.” Sarah shook her head.

“Was it for money? Did your brother go to work for him and get in over his head?”

“No.” She whined.

“Does he know something? Is your brother being blackmailed into...”  

“No.” Sarah tried to turn away.

“Sarah,” Bucky pulled her a little closer, his tone growing hard again. “I get your trying to protect your brother, but if he’s making your steal because he got in over his head just so he could have extra cash or drive that stolen car...”

She tried to pull away. “He hates mom’s car!”  

Bucky froze. “Your mom. This is about your mother.”

Sarah’s lip quivered. Tears filled her eyes. Her head shook. She pulled back. Bucky watched her devolve from the tough little being to a frightened child. Gently, he pulled her closer. “I will help make this better, Sarah, I promise. It’s okay, baby, you can tell me.”

A great sob escaped her and she fell into Bucky’s arms. He wrapped his big arms around her little frame. You watched as she knotted her fists in his sweatshirt, and took giant gulps of air. “M-mommy couldn’t pay and he sent men to hurt Josh. So, he had to,” she swallowed, crying harder. “He’s got to do good. Grades. Sports. Mom can’t afford college. Mom’s says he has to go. But they kept coming to the house.” Sarah hid her face in his shoulder. “To my school. Mom can’t say. If she says they’ll take her away. I don’t have anyone else.”

Bucky held her close, rubbing her back. “Okay, it’s okay. Breathe, baby.”

You tapped silently on your phone, doing quick research on Sarah’s mother. Mary Jacobs worked for the local hospital system as a relief nurse. She had a clean criminal record, virtually no savings, and pretty substantial debt. She was staying afloat being a single mom, but only just.  You typed a few more queries into the Stark Mobile AI.  

Bucky caught your eye. He looked torn. You knew this weeping child would bring out the strongest of his protective urges. It would also stoke the need to inflict pain on the person causing the little one’s fear. He did not want to frighten Sarah.  

Your phone gave a silent vibration and you glanced down, seeing the answers on the screen. The final pieces fell into place. Now you understood.

“Sarah,” You knelt beside Bucky’s chair. “We’re going to take care of this. We’re going to do it right, making sure Abruzzo’s gang is out of business, making sure Josh will still get the chance to go to school, and that your mom is taken care of. She’s not going to leave you alone.”  

You held out a tissue for her. She took it and wiped her nose. “You sure?”

“We will everything we can.” Bucky wiped her tears with his thumb with a smile. “And we’re professionals.”

She nodded, with a sniffle.  

Bucky spoke with her until her tears were dry and she was ready to rejoin the group. You’d never seen him spend much time with children before, but he spoke straight to her not trivializing anything. He validated her feelings, spoke with honest and plain words, and in short order got her to smile.  

You turned off the noise buffer and slipped back in your bag. Only twenty-two minutes had passed. “Sarah, I want you to have this.” You gave her an envelope. She looked at you curiously. “I told your counsellor that I was here to offer you a day to shadow us at Avengers Tower. So that’s what we’ve been talking about, okay?”

“Okay.” She held up the envelope. “So what’s this?”

“All the plans for you to give to your mom. Dates, hotel information for reservation, all of it.” You smiled.

“Wait.” Sarah looked to Bucky and back to you. “I really to get to do this?”

“Don’t want you to lie any more than you have to, kid.” Bucky grinned.  

“Will you teach me to shoot?” Her eyes lit up. Bucky smiled, but before he could answer you cut in.  

“One thing at a time.” The both sighed in disappointment. You chuckled. “Okay. Buck is sneaking back out. You are staying quiet about this. Just go on like nothing has happened. We’ll need just a couple days to get everything in order. Okay, Sarah?”  

“Yeah.” She gave Bucky one more hug before he slipped out the window. She skipped of the office, for all the world looking like a kid who just won a trip to Disneyland. When you got to the car, Bucky looked far more serious.

“What did you find?” He reached over and took your hand in his.  

“What we needed to finish this. Let’s get home. We’re going to need Steve’s help.”  

TAGS:

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[abraxos-is-toothless]

Surprises (3)

So here we have chapter 3! This is all Elain’s POV but I promise that Az will be back in the next chapter. I was originally going to put them together but I changed my mind🤫

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 and Chapter 2

Warnings: it’s clinical at the beginning so I tried to use doctor speak. There will be swearing, mature themes, mentions of alcohol at times, and mentions of sex. I will updates warnings as I go if needed.

I didn’t have a gif for this really so this works I think? Because Elain makes a decision in this that you may not agree with but we all feel differently

Chapter 3

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She should not be here. She was only seventeen for crying out loud! A nurse had brought her back into an exam room and asked her to wait saying that the doctor would be along shortly. Lucien remained in the waiting room but just before Elain had left with the nurse, he kept reassuring her that everything would be alright no matter what, and he already knew how he was going to kill the boy who did it. Smiling to herself she could imagine it; he had always been very protective of her. Everyone always thought they were a couple when the saw them together and from seeing the dirty looks he would give the boys who just stared at her ass. They had kissed once, just something chaste with no tongue included but when they pulled apart, they both agreed to never speak of it again because it did not feel right at all.

Elain was startled out of her reverie when the door opened and the doctor spoke, “So miss Arch- Wait Acheron?” Looking up she felt herself flush, meeting the gaze of Helion, Lucien’s father. Gods why did she have the worst luck imaginable? This could also get worse so suck it up Elain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before offering the pathetic response of “Uh, hello Helion.” He came and sat down in front of her and she took to wringing her hands nervously in front of her. How the hell was she meant to tell him what she came here for? It was like talking to her father about it which she would never do. Ever. He coughed slightly to clear his throat and asked “What can I do for you El?” Forcing herself to take a breath she decided to spit everything out at once in the hopes she wouldn’t have to do it again, “Well you see I think that I may havehadsexlastnightwithoutacondom.” He chuckled a bit and asked her to repeat that and to maybe slow it down this time so she steeled her nerves and said again, as clear as possible, “I may have had sex for the very first time last night and I also believe that there was no condom involved.” Elain was bright red now and could feel the heat in her cheeks and was focusing vey intently on her toes. She hated how embarrassing this was.

Helion sputtered a bit then but recovered quickly saying “Right well after an examination I’ll be able to tell you if you did the former but as for the latter, I may not be able to tell especially if you’ve used the bathroom and such since.” He got up then and walked over to retrieve a gown and then handing it to her, “Put that on and then jump up onto the table and prop your legs up slightly. We’ll figure it out Elain I promise.” After she watched him step behind the curtain she started to strip, replacing her clothes for the ugly hospital gown and did as he asked once up on the table. When she was ready, she called him back and watched as he sat at the end of the table right between her legs. She could hear the snap of gloves as he pulled them on but this time, he was gentler as he spoke, “I’m going to put my hands on you now Elain and it may feel a little cold from the gloves, Okay?” She gave a small hum of confirmation but still gasped when she felt place his hands on her. Focus on the ceiling. “You’re going to feel some pressure now El, deep breaths for me as it might hurt a little.” And it did hurt as she was still sore so she bit her lip and clenched her hands to keep from making any noises. Eventually he pulled his hands away telling her she could put her legs back down to sit normally.

After peeling off his gloves he spoke again although this time it was with a hint of nerves, “Definite signs of intercourse so I can tell you that you did indeed have sex for the first time last night, and I can tell it wasn’t forced thanks the gods.” Elain nodded already knowing that was most likely the outcome but, he still hadn’t given her the most important part of that information. “And the other thing?” He looked at the floor quickly then before he looked back at her. That’s not a good sign then is it. Fuckity shit fuck, no. “Well there appears to be small traces of semen left over so I’m afraid to tell you that there was no condom used during intercourse. The possibility of pregnancy is of course a fifty-fifty chance.” This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. She needed to know now. “Is there any way of being able to know now?” It wasn’t until she said it that she realised how stupid she sounded because of course there wasn’t a way to know now, the gods damned sex had only happened the night before but he answered her all the same, “I’m sorry Elain but there isn’t, not this soon anyway. The only way to know is to wait. However, I do have an option for you that would prevent a pregnancy though.” Ah yes, the holy saviour that was the morning after pill. Elain knew what it was as she’d sometimes over heard a few girls in school talk about using it instead of condoms. Fucking idiots. But the idea of using it, to stop a life from growing, didn’t sit well with her. It was probably incredibly what she was about to tell him. No, she knew she was being ridiculous but the idea of just...

“I don’t want it. Thank you, but no thank you.” Looks of shock and sympathy flashed across his face then but as a doctor she knew he had to ask her, “Are you sure you don’t want it?” No, she bloody well wasn’t. “Yes, I’m sure Helion.”

oOoOo

Walking back into the waiting room, she did a quick scan for Lucien’s red hair and found him leaning against a wall near the entrance of the clinic. He looked up when she was close enough for him to hear her footsteps but as soon as their eyes met, she couldn’t help but to burst into tears. Elain was quickly tucked against his chest while he rubbed his hand up and down her back, whispering in her ear that she was alright, that everything would be fine. When her tears finally stopped, he pulled back and led her from the clinic back to his car. Once they were belted up and Lucien had the car moving he finally asked her “Are you going to tell me what happened? You don’t have to obviously, but I’m your best friend Lainy, I want to help.”

He was too good to be true. Honestly, he was. “Well I definitely swiped my v-card last night and I wasn’t even careful about it. I was offered the morning after pill but I just couldn’t say yes, I just- I just...” Her breathing picked up then and noticing this he brought his hand over to grip onto hers tightly and said “It’s alright, just breathe. That’s it Lainy good job.” Elain squeezed his hand in thanks once she had finally managed to calm down and they were quiet for few minutes after until he spoke again “So, what do we do now?” Wallow in self-pity with pints of ice cream. That was her first thought but she only replied with “Now, we just wait.”

They made it to their favourite diner quite quickly after that, parking close to the entrance. But before she could even move to open her door, Lucien had beaten her to it, opening her door and offering his hand. “Milady,” he said with a wink, and with a roll of her eyes she accepted his hand and they walked into the diner side by side. Making it inside the diner they were about to go to their usual table when Elain heard a familiar laugh. Turning her head in the direction of the sound, she found Feyre tucked into the booth in the far corner along with Rhys, Nesta, Cassian and- Oh shit.

She was hit with another memory then after seeing the other boys face, this once feeling as though it was happening in that moment, just like it had this morning.

“Gods, you feel incredible.” She could still feel a slight bit of pain as he started to move, but it was bearable. Elain had one of her hands in his hair, gripping the soft strands at the nape of his neck. The other, she couldn’t stop using to push her nails into the skin of his back and dragging down because every time she did, he’d let out small little moans of pleasure. As she adjusted, he seemed to pick up the pace a bit and the only word she could form was “Please” over and over again.

The slight touch of her best friend’s hand on her arm brought her back to the present. Mother above she had slept with Azriel. The brother to both of her sister's boyfriends and she barely even knew him. They only ever interacted on the rare occasions that Elain chose to sit with her sisters at lunch because there were things she needed to ask them or because they hadn’t been able to catch up properly that week. Looking back over to their booth in the corner, she realised that they hadn’t actually been spotted yet. Seeing her chance, she turned to Lucien and asked, “Actually I’m not really in the mood for greasy diner food now, can we just got to that pretzel cart in the mall that I like?” He gave a weary nod of his head in returned with a muttered “sure thing” and turned to leave, not even noticing her sisters in the corner. Letting out a small sigh of relief she hurried after him with only one thought in her mind.

This wasn’t going to be complicated at all, was it?

—————

I know I know, no interaction with them yet but I promise it’s coming! Also poor Elain, she has no idea what to do. If you disagree with her decision that’s incredibly valid but it’s my story so no hate please:) let me know what you think as it’s much appreciated💓 Let me know if you want a tag and if I’ve forgot I’m sorry just tell me and I’ll fix it ASAP😁

No beta today because it’s late and I didn’t want to disturb @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares so forgive me for any mistakes

Tags: @starlitfangirl @starsauroras @drunken-starz @myfriendscallmeraba @thesirenwashere @empress-sei @elrielllll @stars-falling @cirieael @verifiefangirl @verifiefangirl-mainblog @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @mirainthedark05 @fancyclodpaintercookie @slightly-sane-fangirl @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @b00kworm @kvi-arts @rhysandhlcor @tswaney17 @awkward-avocado-s

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Not What It’s Cracked Up To Be ch.5 (baon)

Summary: Edge and Stretch are finally getting back on an even keel. Edge’s broken leg is healing well, Spring is finally here and the flowers are close to blooming.

Be a shame if anything disturbed their domestic bliss.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Fluff, Chickens, Depression

Notes: As a heads up, this chapter includes a depiction of depression.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

~~*~~

Read Chapter 5 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Before Edge was willing to leave the house on what was likely a fool’s errand, he went back upstairs to peek in on Stretch. It was difficult to tell what was going on beneath the tangle of the blankets, but he seemed to be more relaxed from his tight, fetal curl of earlier. Probably sleeping and that was good.

Back in Underfell, his brother’s supposedly laziness used to drive him mad, but coming to the surface world brought a few humbling realizations. Depression was exhausting and so was low HP, and he no longer questioned the need for plenty of rest from any of those he cared about.

A closer inspection showed the blankets rising and falling in even rhythm, deep, slow breaths and Edge let out a near-silent, relieved sigh of his own, hoping that Stretch came out of the other side of sleep at least a little improved.

Edge hesitated at the bedside, wondering if he should leave a note. He decided against it. Stretch had his phone, he could text if he needed anything. Enough dithering about, whatever it was that Red was dragging him out of the house for must be at least a little important, the cameras Edge knew were hidden outside their house surely showed him what happened last night and—

Edge went stock-still on his way out the bedroom door, his hand still on the doorknob as suspicion along with sudden anger welled up in his soul. He closed the door with care and with slow deliberation, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to send a curt text back to his brother, Tell me what this is about.

No response and just as he was about to shove his phone back into his pocket came, awful slow these days, bro. hurry up and you can see for yourself.

His phone creaked in his hand and Edge forcibly loosened his grip, shoving it back into his pocket before he could give in to the childish urge to throw it against a wall. It wouldn’t change a thing except give him the extra headache of being without a phone until he could get a replacement. Red would have his fun and there wasn’t an angry text message in existence that would change that. There was only one way for his niggling suspicions to be confirmed and that was to play the game.

But he would have a thing or three to say once they were done, of that he was certain. Edge snagged his keys on the way out the door and headed out to his car.

The address Red sent him wasn’t more than a ten-minute drive to the mostly abandoned neighborhoods of Old New Home. As he pulled up to the abandoned lot, Red stepped out of a shortcut on the curb, hands in his pockets and his semi-permanent grin wide.

It set Edge’s emotions into a roiling conflict. On one hand, he was very annoyed with his brother, verging on furious if this turned out the way he suspected, and on the other…

On the other, the last time he’d seen his brother, it had started with him lying on Edge’s kitchen floor, bleeding out in his arms, and ended with Sans carrying him away. He looked tired, but that was more normal than not with Red.

Interesting to note that he was not wearing a matching collar to Sans, which meant either Sans had no idea what a single collar relationship symbolized, or he knew all too well and Edge wasn’t taking that thought any further. Brotherly concern was one thing, but he was not interesting in knowing the minute details of their relationship, so long as they were happy.

Speaking of happiness, Red’s grin was practically gleeful as Edge got out of the car. “awful slow, there, bro. gimp leg holding you back?”

“Shut up,” Edge said automatically, even as he limped over with cane in hand, “and start telling me why you dragged me out here.”

The mocking pout was all the more disturbing for being on Red’s face. “what, no hug?”

“I’d attempt it to prove a point,” Edge told him dryly, “but I have enough injuries without you literally stabbing me in the back. What. Do. You. Want.”

Red only shook his head, sighing as if with deep disappointment, ah, he was in a cheerful mood, wasn’t he. “all those years of you harping on manners and i ain’t even getting a how’s it going, how you been feeling, looking a lot better without all your marrow leakin’ out. no love at all, boss?”

If he wanted to play, Edge did still remember the rules. “Very well. How is Sans doing? He looked well when he brought me your report the other day. Is he taking care of any more of your work?”

That smile slipped a fraction. “he’s doin’ fine.”

Edge only looked at him, brow bone raised. If Red wasn’t going to discuss the elephant in the room, Edge would be more than happy to allow it to step on his foot. “I’m only asking as the Director of Operations, literally your boss, as you so enjoy pointing out. I’m sure you understand that it’s important for me to know what work my people are handling. In case there are any liabilities.”

That wide grin turned faintly wry, Red’s crimson eye lights gleaming his amusement. “yeah, fuck you, boss. he’s doin’ real good. decided for some dumbass reason he needs to move in. stupid fucking cat is having a fit.”

“Ah, yes, fuck you, only the very best comeback in your arsenal for me, I’m sure. And I can’t even begin to imagine why he’d want to move into that garbage pit you call a home.” Edge crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at his brother. “All right, you’ve had your fun. Now, where is she?”

Red barked out a laugh. “oh, very good, little brother, already figured it out, didja.”

“Your puzzles haven’t improved since Junior Jumble, it was not that difficult.”

“not for you.” As far as he was out of his childhood years, hearing that rare tinge of pride in his brother’s voice still made him want to preen. Edge squashed the urge, following as Red jerked his head towards overgrown field behind him. “come on.”

The terrain would have been aggravating even with two perfectly working legs. Having one that sent up threatening warning twinges with every step made it all the worse and the soil was loose and muddy, hard for feet and the tip of his cane. Grimly, Edge follow his brother through the hip-deep weeds, taking sour enjoyment in the fact that they were nearly above his brother’s head.

“she was a bitch and a half to find, i tell you what,” Red said conversationally, shoving his way through the vegetation. Edge supposed he should be grateful Red hadn’t either gone all-out jungle trekking and brought a machete or worse, offered to shortcut them, if only to force Edge to refuse. The very thought of taking one of Red’s shortcuts made his gorge rise. His brother tromped on obliviously, or at least giving a remarkable appearance of it, “this little gal has some tricks. little chickie crossed a lotta roads to get here.”

“Care to explain how you even knew how to look for her?” Edge asked sardonically and it was just as well Red wasn’t looking at him, because Edge couldn’t hide his surprise when he answered.

“sure. i was the reason she was missing to begin with.”

Edge stopped, “What? What the fuck does that mean?!”

“keep your hair on, you want me to explain or not?” Red kept moving and after a moment, Edge followed him, hands clenched into painful fists to keep from reaching out and strangling him. All that would do was waste time and amuse Red all the more, and Edge was trying to keep his contributions to his brother’s sense of humor at a minimum. “motion sensor went off at your place in the wee hours last night.”

“Motion sensors that you are not supposed to have.”

“huh, strange thing,” Red mused aloud, “don’t remember anyone sayin’ i couldn’t.”

“I didn’t think I had to!”

“anywho, went over to check it out.” He paused, swearing under his breath as he picked several dried-up thistles from his jacket without even bothering to flick any in Edge’s direction and utterly ignoring Edge’s visibly simmering impatience. “and i saw some kinda animal with too much fur and not enough feathers to be in your coop. your little lady was outside in the fenced area and close to bein’ a midnight snack. so i scooped her up, but before i could deal with the toothy lil’ problem, your liability came swooping in like a fucking bare-ass bat out of hell, firing bones every which way. i shortcutted out before he could turn me into a kabob. didn’t really mean to take her along for the ride, but i didn’t exactly have a wide selection of options.” Red craned his head to look over his shoulder slyly, “’least the view wasn’t bad. he musta felt me getting ready to clean house and hightailed it down. honey bun has pretty good reaction time. better'n yours."

Edge ignored that. “And you didn’t bring her back afterward because?

Red only shrugged. “couldn’t. she weaseled her way loose the second we hit grass again and took off. spent half the night and all morning lookin’ for the little fucker. once i figured out where she was holed up, i messaged you.”

Edge exhaled slowly, struggling with his temper. “And why didn’t you simply tell me all this earlier? Stretch is sitting at home mourning her and you—"

“and if it turned out she got hit by a car or some shit?” Red countered sharply, “really wanted to go there? figured it’d be better to make sure she had her feathers intact before i got his hopes all up.”

That was surprisingly valid as excuses went, and yet, “You could have told me! At the very least I could have helped you search!”

“think so, little brother?” Red looked at him with enough scorn that Edge had to suppress a flinch, “or you think maybe you woulda told stretch, try and cheer him up a bit? i wanted you to look her over, make sure she's all right first, but hey, you go on and call him right now if that’s what you think is better.”

Edge ground his teeth and said nothing. All the arguing in the world couldn’t make Red understand that this might have been the last thin, straw that broke the back between Stretch and a very dark day. His brother coped with his issues in much different ways, in Edge’s experience usually copious amounts of alcohol. Perhaps Sans would have been able to explain it better. Or perhaps he would have already given in and slapped Red upside the head, it was a fair chance either way.

They kept up through the tall grass. It shushed around them in the light breeze, that rustle the only sound, surrounding them, and his car growing small and distant behind them. Red was panting when they came to a small clearing, leaning over with his hands braced on his knees as he panted out, “here we are.”

There, sitting happily in a trodden down area of grass, was Nugget. She cackled out a greeting, loud in the muffling hush of the grass, but concerningly she didn’t move when normally she would be dancing flirtatiously around Edge’s legs.

“Is she hurt?” Edge demanded. He reached for her, ready to carry her back to the car and straight to a veterinarian.

Red scratched at the back of his skull, “see, that’s the thing—”

Before Edge could pick her up, she let out a warning screech and tried to peck at his hands. He snatched them back, staring down at her in bemused shock.

“—she seems to be in a mood of some sort,” Red finished, “can’t figure it out, she ain’t bleeding and she hadta walk all the way over here on her own. i woulda brought her back to your place when i found her, but she was pretty insistent on stayin’ right there.”

Baffled, Edge ran a Check on her, ignoring how ridiculous it seemed to do on a chicken. Her HP was fine, and he thought it better not to question why she had a LV of 2. “She doesn’t seem hurt.”

He reached out again cautiously, ignoring her pinching little beak attacks against his gloves, and lifted her up. Beneath her, the grass was torn up and arranged into a sort of nest and inside it—

Red crouched down to peer into it, mouth twisting crookedly. “huh. where you figure she got the golf balls?”

“I have no idea.” Standing in a field questioning the intentions of a chicken was not where Edge ever expected to find himself.

Red reached in and pinched a small, white object between two sharpened fingertips, lifting it up from the pile to inspect it despite Nuggets increasingly loud squalls of betrayal. “there’s one egg, anyway. least she’s still layin’ for you.”

Tucking Nugget against his side to stop her squirms, Edge only stared at it, perplexed, and said slowly, “That isn’t one of her eggs. Nugget’s eggs are a pale green.”

“huh.” Red set it back gently into the pile of grass and golf balls, and scrubbed hand over his face. “lemme get this straight. your little mini liability found a random egg in a pile of golf balls and decided to settle in and play momma? that’s what we think’s happenin’ here?”

“Would you like me consult my crystal ball? I don’t speak chicken and you’re the one whose been spying on them.” Nugget was getting increasingly difficult to hold and her forlorn and angry cries were either too heartrending or too annoying for Red to ignore. He heaved a sigh, shaking his head.

“hang on to the little shit,” Red ordered, even as he stepped sideways into a shortcut. Leaving Edge alone in the tall grass with an increasingly distraught chicken.

“Hush, hush, come on now,” Edge soothed, gentle petting what he could reach of her feathers. Her loud clucks dissolved into unhappy coos, looking up at Edge with mournfully beady little eyes. How was this his life, Edge wondered, with weary amusement, catering to the whims of a bird that once he would have seen more as lunch than a pet. He gave her a gentle scritch underneath the chin and she crooned softly, her small eyes closing as she finally settled.

Only to squawk loudly as Red abruptly reappeared, “here we go.”

In his hands was a hanging basket with a spray of flowers only just beginning to bloom from the leafy tendrils. It was rather lovely, definitely expensive, and absolutely did not belong to Red.

“Where did you get that?” Edge demanded.

Red shrugged, “only thing that matters is they didn’t see me.” He dumped the flowers out onto the ground in a sad splatter of leaves and potting soil, then crouched down and began filling it with grass. “c’mon, the joke’s getting’ old and the crowd’s restless, let’s get the show on the road.”

Edge made a mental note to have a much nicer replacement sent discreetly to anyone who complained about a missing floral arrangement and started to crouch down to help. Only for his brother to brusquely wave him back.

“hold the fucking chicken, i got this,” Red snapped. He didn’t look up at Edge, stuffing grass into the basket furiously. “you been standing long enough, last thing you need is to get down here and not be able to get back up. bet that leg is singing an ava maria by now.”

Slowly, Edge straightened, watching silently as Red filled the basket and he didn’t protest his leg was fine, didn’t try to reassure him, only let him make a messy little nest in the basket. He added the golf balls, nestling them into the grass, then hesitated over the egg, finally giving Edge a side eye. “uh. so do we take it or leave it?”

“Take it,” Edge decided. “Perhaps Stretch can do some research and find out what kind of egg it is.”

“it’s your funeral, don’t blame me if you end up with pet crocodile or some shit.”

“Nonsense, crocodiles aren’t native to Ebott. Snakes, however—” He trailed off as Nugget renewed her struggles and leaned down to set her in the basket. She settled immediately, fluffing out her feathers and nestling in. “I suppose that’s that.”

“yep, take ‘er home.” Red stood and stretched, both hands pressed into the small of his back as the joints popped. “by the way, i saw you doing work on the coop. ain’t a bad idea, but you don’t have a fox problem, boss.” His brother straightened and tucked his hands into his pockets, his grin colder, sharper, and in that moment, he could have stepped dusty and damaged directly from Underfell. “’least not anymore.”

He was gone before Edge could even open his mouth to ask.

He was alone again in the tall grass with nothing but a contented chicken for company and his car a painfully long walk away, particularly when lugging said chicken along.

“Thank you, brother,” Edge said, with an equal measure of sincerity and sarcasm. There was nothing for it. Edge heaved up the basket in his free hand and started to struggle his way back through the field.

Time to head home. Home, yes, home, where Stretch was hopefully still asleep, and Edge could only hope that seeing Nugget would shake at least a little of his depression loose. The thought of even a faint smile from his love was enough to make the growing ache in his leg well worth it.

tbc