#also okay can i talk about slushi logic

[mockingbirdshymn]

Nerris: Why are your tongues purple? Preston: We had slushies. I had a blue one. Harrison: I had a red one. Nerris: oh. Nerris: Nerris: OH. Nikki: Nikki: You drank eachothers slushies?

[a-supernatural-writer]

hcs for poly! tlb with a fem! s/o who’s style is dark academia and is really blunt/logical and smart. she basically gives off a ‘mysterious, quiet, dark, critical’ vibe (she also doesn’t really know how to handle people who are extremely emotional and she doesn’t know how to soothe someone. she’s just really oblivious/clueless when it comes to others feelings). i’m so sorry if what i requested doesn’t make sense or if it was too much. i am seriously incapable of writing anything without making it look like an essay lmao. love your work btw 💕✨

Dark Academia Fem! S/O 

Poly Lost Boys x Fem reader

I had so much fun writing this! I love the dark academia aesthetic! And it made perfect sense and it wasn’t too much! Having a lot actually helps me expand and write more so thank you. And I’m the same, once I have an idea, I write a lot, so you’re all good! And awww!!! Thank you!!! 💗💗✨✨ I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy!

Okay, so you are very different compared to the large number of characters on the boardwalk. Your style consisted of button shirts, sweaters or turtle necks, dress pants or a plaid pleated skirts, cardigans or waistcoats, oxford shoes or even wire framed glasses if you wore them for seeing or just for the look. 

To say that you caught the boys attention would be an understatement. You seemed to stand out amongst the crowd and they became curious. You were a mystery to them and they love the challenge. 

Somehow, someway, after days or weeks later, you became good friends which soon lead to you dating four trouble making punks. It was tough on both parts, but it happened, and hey, you weren’t complaining. 

You were very blunt when you first met them, not really interested in them and more or less interested in the book in your hands. It took a lot of “accidental” run ins to even get you to hang out with them. 

You slowly opened up when they offered to take you out for dinner at a local diner. They’re constant joking soon had you letting out small, almost whisper-like giggles and tiny smiles that sent them into a frenzy. 

When you would start talking about yourself, your ideas of fun were different from theirs. You liked museums, opera houses, bookstores and going to theaters to see plays. The games you played were chess and cards, and the music you listened to was old. You were pretty sure they thought you were boring but you actually peaked their interest. 

After a while of being friends with them, they asked you out. You liked them and the only logical step was to see if you liked them the same way they liked you was to date them, so you said yes. 

In general, them having a girlfriend with a 1940s/1950s dark prep look was fun. David and Dwayne like it the most. Paul next, then Marko. 

David actually really likes picking out your clothing on most days. You have an extensive collection of clothing with material from cashmere to linen, all the colors consisting of browns, black, cream and even a little dark green. 

His favorite thing to put you in is trench coats. Doesn’t matter what color it is, he just likes seeing you in them. Also, there are a handful of times that he has MADE you wear his trench coat. Yeah it almost swimmed on you, but he thought it made you look cute and it fit in perfectly with your look. 

Dark academia isn’t only your style, but it’s your way of life. David is the one that plays chess with you. You had to reteach it to him and pretty soon, the two of you had your own little set up in the cave that was always ready for a game of chess. 

David is sort of like you… in a way when it comes to others feelings. But deep down he knows that he really likes you and tries to show it the best he can. He took you to a theater to see a play that you were constantly talking about and so he took you on a date. You being you, didn’t realize that’s what it was until he told it straight to your face. Let’s just say you were speechless for the next hour. 

Also, when it’s just the two of you, deep inside the cave where your nest is, classical music is playing from your record player. It could be Beethoven, Tchaikovsky or Mozart. Whoever it is, David is the one that will listen to it with you the most. I think he really enjoys classical music and he enjoys it even more if the two of you are cuddling in your bed. 

Occasionally Dwayne would join the two of you. You would be sitting in between David’s legs as Dwayne sat in between yours, his head leaning back against your chest. It was like a cuddle pile… cuddle train?? Whatever you wanted to call it, it was cuddling while the three of you relaxed listening to classical music. And it was darn cute. 

Dwayne loves listening to you go on and on about any books you were reading at the moment. Whether or not it was nonfiction or even about any type of history. He was down. He lived through a lot and he knew about half of the stuff you gushed on about, but for some odd reason, it never bored him when you talked about it. 

He would be the one to get you new books, leaving you sweet little notes tied to them. Of course you thought it was just him being nice and thanked him for it without thinking there was any romantic meaning behind it. Yeah he was one of your boyfriends but it never really crossed your mind that way. He would just shake his head at your obliviousness and give you a small peck on the lips. 

Don’t ask him why, but his favorite look on you is a light cream colored blouse with a plaid skirt and Mary Jane shoes. Dwayne is a leg man so… he’s very happy when decide to show off some skin if you decide not to wear knee-socks or stockings with it. Even if you did wear them, he would still be attached to your side the entire night. 

Like David, Dwayne would bring you out to a lot of places that were opened late at night. If there was an art exhibition in town or even a museum that was open late, just say the word and he will happily drive you on his bike. Heck, David might even tag along. 

Also, late night bookstore dates… oh my heart, it’s too sweet it hurts. There are times that he does have to throw you over his shoulder when the bookstore is closing and you're pretty much refusing to leave. When he does that, you just stay frozen over his shoulder, not knowing if you should be blushing or cursing at him for carrying you like a sack of potatoes. 

If anything, you and Dwayne connect very well. You’re naturally very quiet and so is he. Not much is said between you two but there's a mutual understanding that can’t be explained. While the others are out causing trouble, you and him are on the sidelines watching hand in hand or your reading and he's just staring at you as you do so. 

Paul and Marko kind of give you whiplash. They’re loud and rowdy and definitely 100% opposite from you. But they interested you. They had a very chaotic outlook on life which made you ask many questions. 

Paul found your look sexy. He’s horny and you give off preppy school vibes, he’s living for it 24/7. Constant teasing of you giving him ‘private lessons’ which results with you whacking a book against the back of his head. But it doesn’t stop the reddening of your ears which doesn’t make him stop.  

This man is also your designated jewelry expert. You only wear some accessories and they're very simple. So you are very surprised when Paul finds you jewelry that is your style and collects it for you. You like leather watches, guess what, he’s got it for you. You want some fancy victorian looking brooches, he’s got that too. Simple rings with a single jewel in the middle, expect constant ‘will you marry me’ jokes, but he gets you the best.

Also, he’s not overly big into your music selection. He does try to get you into his type of music, which you only like very few and far between. But when you do get him to listen to your type of music, it’s only if you agree to listen to his music the next night. You guys come up with a system and decide to switch every few nights. 

Each of the boys have their favorite look on you and Paul's is when you wear a button-up of any color with a simple black tie, a pencil skirt and a pair of Dr.Marten boots. He especially likes the tie… for reasons. God damn it, you know the reasons, get out of here. 

He’s a very affectionate boy and he finds your looks over confusion some of the cutest shit he’s ever seen. Probably the first one to tell you that he loves you and you honestly like glitched out. Did you feel the same way? Yes, but poor little thing you doesn’t say it right away, but Paul knows that you aren’t really used to saying things like that without warming up to it. Which is okay. He knows even if you don’t say it. 

He definitely steals one of your blazers to put pins on it. Marko helps, putting a few patches on it that they both know you would like. It’s the one item that stands out in all of your clothing and you will wear it if they ask you to. 

Marko definitely thinks the look is cute and it suits you very well, but why no color?! You wear dark colors but nothing bright like the colors that are on his jacket. He tries to slip in some colorful clothing into your everyday look, it never goes as planned but you give him an A for effort. 

He loves how dark you can be at times though. You want to go to a local graveyard just because? Sure! Let’s go! He’s your designated graveyard buddy. You have many date nights there, looking at all the different gravestones and finding it interesting when you jot down some names in one of your notebooks. 

Speaking of notebooks, you have many of them. They were filled with notes from books you’ve read, real life observations or even just some random poetry and short stories that you wrote. Marko would go through them a lot and even sometimes draw little doodles or rough sketches that were thought up from your writings. 

When you spend nights down at the Boardwalk, your go to drink isn’t a slushie or a milkshake or even a soda. It’s coffee or tea. Yeah, and only Marko knows your drink orders by heart. None of the others seem to remember them correctly which you thank them for trying but Marko has got them all beat. 

Marko likes seeing you in sweaters and in your trousers or linen shorts with chelsea boots. If anything, when the two of you are alone, just wearing a knit sweater and shorts were perfect for him. He likes how cozy and warm you look. He’s very happy when he cuddles you and you are warm. 

Now when they tell you that they’re vampires, you think that they’re joking. Vampires aren’t real, they’re a work of fiction. Yes there was a real man named Dracula, but there was no way that they were actual vampires. 

Then they showed you hard proof and then there was no denying it at that point. Instead of running away, you were fascinated. You wanted to understand your boyfriends vampire ways that lead to you conducting extensive research and a notebook dedicated to them. 

They showed you everything about them, how they feed, to which you didn’t bat an eyelash of watching them feed one night. You were one morbid chick but they saw that as a plus that you didn’t react. You had graveyard dates for crying out loud, nothing really surprised them at that point.

Flying came next and they had a lot of fun showing you just how high they could go with you in their arms. You never screamed at the height, you were too caught up in seeing the overhead view of the town. You could get used to seeing a view like that every night.  

Then came the other things; how they slept before you came along, what actually hurt them and what didn’t. There was one time that you stared at their vampire faces for hours because you were taking notes on how their facial features changed. 

Soon you had to stock up on more turtlenecks because of the many bite marks they would leave behind from feeding on you if the weather was bad one night. It wasn’t tough adapting to their occasional feeding. A lot of your clothing already covered up your skin so it was easy to hide from people on your nights out. 

Not too long after, they popped the question. Would you want to be a vampire? Live forever, never grow up? Be with them for all eternity? You didn’t really need to think about it for too long, you knew what your answer was and so did they even if you didn’t say it out loud. You loved your boys and not much would change.

When you did change, it was entertaining for them to watch. You soon started taking down notes about your progress, comparing and contrasting your experience to their own. 

To the eyes of many, you became even more dark and mysterious. You had an aura around you that drew people in, it’s what got you your four vampire boyfriends, only now, it brought in your meal for the night.

[julemmaes]

Possible continuation of the cass-defending-nesta au prompts?: “i got your back. Always.” Or perhaps, “they can shove it, i love you. All of you.” or maybe something involving soda slushies (that’s just cause I kinda want one rn)

Got your back (2)

Cassian and Nesta Archeron modern au

A/N: Please, read the A/N at the end of the post, this is really important for me. I didn’t put it here cause it’s very long, but still, I think everyone should read it.

So, the oh-so-awaited part two for the Nessian fic. This is mainly Cassian having an existential crisis (me every day basically) and some Nessian domestic fluff. I guess you’ll get a third part, cause I can’t leave you and them like this, I hope you’re thrilled by the idea just as much as I am. I’m sorry if I forgot to tag anyone. I hope yall enjoy!

part one

Word count: 2,590

The second Cassian got into the car the world fluttered.

He closed his eyes, inserting the key into the patch and then stopped.

A lump formed in his throat and when he tried to breathe, he realized he was struggling to do so.

What had he done? He opened his eyes and his vision blurred again.

His hands were shaking and his breathing was now erratic.

"Fuck!" he cried, as a tear slipped down his cheek.

He started the engine and set off as he tried to hold back the tears he knew were building up.

He took the highway after a few minutes and as soon as he was on a side road, without too much traffic, he pressed his foot on the accelerator trying to feel so much adrenaline that he went numb.

He was not going towards Nesta's house. No. To get to her apartment he would have had to take the third exit right after passing the walls of Velaris. But he knew that the second he saw her he would burst into tears if he couldn't let go of some of the anger in his mind.

Anger that was now mingling with guilt.

Shit, shit, shit.

He screamed, cursing once again, banging his fist against the steering wheel. The car skidded suddenly and Cassian hit the brake in a desperate attempt not to finish beyond the guard rail and in the middle of the fields. The screeching sound of the wheels wearing out on the asphalt remained in his head even after he had stopped. Both hands tightened around the steering wheel and his gaze fixed on the dark road in front of him, lit only by the headlights of his car, while his breathing became more and more uneven.

A sob broke the silence.

And then another, and yet another, until Cassian found himself desperately crying and hitting the steering wheel repeatedly.

His face buried in his hands and his body shaken by the sobbing, Cassian thought about what he had just done. What it meant to have told everyone about Nesta's problem.

He opened the door, getting out of the cockpit to get some fresh air, but as soon as he was out of the car, the crying got worse.

"You fucking idiot," he muttered to himself.

God, what have I done?

These last few days had been difficult for him. Stressful.

Nesta was in one of those periods they called "shitty periods". These were days, sometimes in rare cases weeks, when Nesta could not get out of bed. Moments in which every reason for living seemed pointless, in which even the slightest input from outside could destabilize her so much that she had several panic attacks in a single day.

Cassian had tried to stay close to her all the time, keeping the phone close to him in case she called him. He had stocked her fridge with food and went to her house for most of her lunches and dinners to cook her something and make sure she ate.

These weren’t completely bad days. There were times when Nesta smiled, or when she could see the good in the middle of all the shit, but there were still days when Cassian came home exhausted, looking for solutions to problems he couldn't solve, without being able to talk to anyone.

He had thought many times about what would happen if one day he took his brothers aside and explained everything to them. If he explained to them why Nesta was not well, by bringing the psychological explanation into the conversation, maybe they would start to treat her like a human being and not like a monster. But in that case he would have betrayed Nesta's trust.

If she had not yet had that conversation with her family, how could he do that with his own? Who was he to take that freedom away from his girlfriend? There were reasons why Nesta hadn't yet taken that step, reasons that Cassian knew perfectly well.

After all, he had experienced the same things a few years before.

That was people's main problem.

When they asked you what the reason for your actions was and you gave a logical explanation, maybe even saying that you were getting professional help, there were two possible answers: either they told you that you were doing it for attention or they told you things like "then don't be sad", "then stop worrying”, "then stop getting angry about everything". As if it were that simple. As if the traumas and situations you've lived through for years and years of your life and the consequences that come with those can be easily healed by not doing specific things.

And now Cassian had to show up at Nesta's house, pissed off with his family and feeling terribly guilty for telling her sisters what the real problem was.

He slammed his fist on the roof of the car repeatedly, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He rubbed his hand over his face, wiping away the tears that were now flowing undisturbed.

He couldn't even talk to her about why he had exploded.

If he explained to her that he had confessed everything because he had been exhausted because of the last week he'd spent taking care of her, Nesta would have pushed him away. Not because she would have been offended that Cassian was struggling between college, work and her, no, that wouldn't have been the case. More likely she would have thought she was weighing too much on him and would have stopped talking to him when she needed him most.

Cassian couldn't allow such a thing to happen. Nesta had only him.

He could bear it, for her.

"You fucking fuck. Don't bear it," he shook his head, starting to walk back and forth, "you don't have to bear anything. You are doing all this for her, you have to respect her needs and the path will not be easy, but the day will come when she will get better and happy and it will be easier." he often spoke out loud when he was thinking about the matter.

No, he couldn't have told her that this was slowly killing him. He had to stay strong and do it for her. He would apologize to his family and allow them to talk to Nesta - always keeping civil tones - if she wanted to.

Shit.

Maybe he had made things even worse.

Maybe now they would have thought that Nesta was morally blackmailing him and that he was only doing it out of pity. And maybe they would have started to offend her even more, saying horrible things about her.

"Jesus Christ," cried Cassian to heaven. I will talk to everyone, he thought. He breathed.

He would talk to Nesta first and tomorrow morning, when everyone would be sober, he would also talk to the others.

For now, he just had to stop crying and get to her apartment safe and sound.

He looked at the time on the phone and sent a quick message to his girlfriend, warning her that he would be there in twenty minutes. Without waiting for an answer, he got back behind the wheel and made turned to get back on the highway.

True to his words, twenty minutes later he found himself at the door of her apartment. He had the keys and could have entered easily by himself, but he decided to knock. After all, she hadn't read the message; if she heard someone come in at 11:54 p.m., she could have easily attacked him.

When Nesta opened the door she had one eye closed and the other only slightly open. She scratched her cheek yawning, "Cass, what are you doing here?" she asked in a hoarse voice. Cassian blinked a couple of times and Nesta must have noticed his gaze because she stiffened, "Are you alright? Did something happen?" she put her hands forward and Cassian threw himself into her arms, holding her to his chest.

He sobbed and Nesta took a few steps back, carrying him with her as she closed the door behind him. She rubbed her hand on his back, stroking his arms, trying to calm him down.

"I am so sorry," he murmured in her hair. Nesta held him tighter.

"What happened Cass? Is everyone okay?" he nodded and felt her relax in his arms.

Something in Cassian's chest broke. Obviously she had immediately thought of the others. She was always thinking of their families. He broke off the hug and looked her in the eyes. Eyes that were now full of worry.

God, he was so stupid. Nesta already had enough problems of her own, now she would have to fight with the rest of their friends because of him.

"I screwed up," he whispered to her, holding her hand. Nesta put her hand on one of his cheeks, rubbing a thumb under his eye to remove the tears and nodded.

"What do you say you come into the kitchen and we'll talk about it while you drink some water, hmm?" she asked, pulling him towards the hallway. Cassian narrowed his eyes, thinking what would be best to do now.

He didn't want to tell her that her family insulted her almost every day. He didn't want to be the person to remind her of such an evil thing. Nesta wasn't stupid, she knew that one of the main topics of their evenings was her, but that didn't mean that Cassian wanted to open the subject right now.

She handed him a glass full of water and when he drank it in a single long sip, Nesta looked at him concerned, filled it again and handed it to him. Cassian just took it, looking at the liquid.

"You're making me nervous," Nesta whispered, leaning one hip to the kitchen island and crossing her arms to her chest, "it's past midnight and you showed up here crying, Cassian. If you don't want to talk about it now, that's fine -" the man almost laughed, a few months ago she would have forced him to talk until he exploded and they would have argued until the next morning. "we can do it tomorrow, but you are obviously shocked by something and if I can do anything to make you feel better, I want to do it." she tilted her head to the side, offering him a weak smile.

Cassian sighed, placing the glass on the counter and rubbing his face, "I fucked up."

"I figured that," she jokingly said. Cassian glanced at her and she whispered an apology smiling.

She was immediately serious when he said, "I told your sisters you're ill."

Her arms fell to her sides, and her eyes widened slightly.

Cassian leaned forward, leaning with his elbows on the counter and taking his head in his hands. Before she could answer, he had already resumed. "I've been tired lately and stressed about studying," yes, this white lie could go unnoticed, "and by the time I got home they were all drunk and started talking shit about you out of nowhere and I couldn't help it." He took a deep breath without crossing her gaze.

"I said that we are together - or rather, Amren told everyone that we are dating and I didn't deny anything. And then Feyre started blaming all the faults of your bad relationship on you and I couldn't stop talking".

"Did you specify anything?"

He still couldn't look at her, "No, I just said they should behave better and... Nesta, forgive me, Mor and Rhys were there too and I had to say something to them too and-" he froze when he felt a hand of hers resting between his shoulders.

He looked up at his girlfriend and she was looking at him with a loose expression on her face. He wrinkled his forehead. Nesta chuckled silently and ran her thumb between his eyebrows.

"Calm down, Cass." she whispered to him, lowering herself to his height and placing her lips on his temple. Cassian closed his eyes, "I'm sorry," he said to her, taking her hand and carrying it to his chest. He pulled himself up, positioning himself so that she was standing in front of him.

She smiled at him again, "Listen to me, as long as you tell me you didn't say anything too specific is fine with me. If they don't realize that I'm sick, that I'm not well mentally, that's not our problem right now".

Ours. Cassian took a deep breath.

"I should have kept silent anyway, it wasn't up to me to say..."

"Did you tell them that I am going to therapy?"

Cassian shook his head to deny it, "No, of course not."

Nesta wrapped her arms around his neck, tiptoeing and putting her lips on his. Cassian kissed her in turn. "That's alright then," she murmured on his lips.

"I'm so sorry, Nes." He caressed her side and she leaned closer to him.

"I’ve got your back and you have mine, remember?" she asked him.

Cassian nodded only once. "You have my back, and I have yours. Always." he repeated like a mantra. She kissed him one more time, then placed her head on his shoulder and hugged him.

"I love you."

"I love you," he repeated.

They remained in that position, one close to the other, for a very long time. So much so that when Nesta spoke, Cassian jolted, making her laugh and detach from him.

"Sorry," she said with a tired smile on her lips, "When I saw you at the door so upset I thought you had come to break up with me."

It was Cassian's turn to laugh. "You know I would never do that, don't you?"

"Yes, I know."

She said it in such a relaxed tone, so familiar, that Cassian couldn't help but look at her and hold her face in his hands, kissing her again.

"What are you going to do with the others?" he asked her as they both dragged themselves to her bedroom. Nesta grimaced, scratching the back of her neck.

"I don't have the slightest idea, I guess if-" her phone vibrated on the bedside table. Nesta raised an eyebrow, " What the..?" She took the phone in her hand and when she read what was written on it she opened her eyes wide, looking up at Cassian. "It's Feyre, she asked me if we can meet tomorrow. Us and... her, Rhysand. Everyone."

He nodded, starting to undress and opening one of the drawers where he kept some of his stuff. "And are you going to go?" when she didn't answer immediately, Cassian turned around and saw her holding the phone in her hands and looking at the screen, looking focused. "Nes?"

Silence.

"You know that if you don't want to talk to them, you don't have to? No one is forcing you to do..."

"No, I think they deserve it. I owe them some explanations..." she stammered, clutching the phone even tighter.

"And they owe you an apology." grunted Cassian.

She nodded with conviction, as if she hadn't heard what he had just said, and placed the phone on the bedside table. "I'll answer tomorrow though, they may suffer a little more if the things they said tonight were so bad as to make you explode".

They slipped under the sheets and when Nesta's back pressed against Cassian's chest, they fell asleep, one lulled by the other's breath.

A/N: What I wrote here is probably the most personal thing I will ever write in my entire life. The few people who know me and with whom I've talked with even just once in "dark" moments know that, for me, talking about how I feel, what I feel in certain situations, is really hard. Not so much to tell the thing itself, as to have to say how my mind reacts to a precise thing. In short, I don't know how to talk about emotions.

I have a friend, a friend who I really care about and who is part of my family. She is special in the best way, the problem is that I am the only one who really knows her. She is my Nesta. Or at least, as far as this specific ff is concerned, I am this Cassian and she is this Nesta.

I've never known anyone who was really committed to know her. I have never known anyone who would try to get over that first wall, so high that sometimes you would think it has no end. She is good. She has a heart of gold. And there are those rare cases, like Azriel in my ff, who believe me when I say that she is not like that. Who believe me when I say that it is not her fault if she is forced to behave in a certain way. That she’s working on her problems, but it takes time and they need to be patient.

Most of the world though, is obviously filled with Feyres and Rhysands and Morrigans. And it's hard to reason with these people when Nesta presents herself as... well, as Nesta. But that doesn't give them the right to call that person a whore, bitch, heartless. It does not give them the right to treat a person as if they were less just because they don’t understand their traumas.

And the weight that I carry on my shoulders every day for her, to protect her from people who would treat her less for her issues, unfortunately crushes me as much as it crushes her.

I have no Cassian.

I cannot rely on anyone.

Her problems are so big that my brain, however open to this kind of thing it is, is not able to find solutions. And I cannot let off steam because her problems are secret. And she has asked me, me rather than 7 billion other people, to keep these secrets. I can’t just simply look for answers in others’ minds cause that’s not how it works.

And the fear that I feel every day. The terror of not being enough to be able to help her, is excruciating.

But I would never want her to know I think these things, cause I know for a fact that it would hit her to the core and she’d think she’s just trouble and that I don’t wanna be there for her. That’s how it would turn out for us and I know it, and I can’t change that cause there’s a balance that need to be maintained.

So, for all those who are out there, who carry the weight of others on their shoulders without being able to share it with anyone else for fear of hurting their Nesta, you are not alone.

acotar taglist (if you want to be added/removed send me an ask or dm me)

@tottenhamboys20 @sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien29 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @silvermindwarrior

[elenajohansenreads]

Books I Read in 2021

#84 - The Glittering Court, by Richelle Mead

Mount TBR: 70/100

Rating: 1/5 stars

What did I like about this? It was digestible. Having just come off a heavy, plodding, disappointing fantasy read, the easy YA tell-don't-show narrative style went down smooth like a slushie on a hot day.

And that's the best thing I can say about the whole book--it read fast and easy.

What didn't I like?

1. The fact that this touts itself as fantasy when it's not in the least bit fantastical. I don't require my fantasy to have magic or creatures or zombies or anything, but if you're going to call something "fantasy" it should at least be about fictional cultures that the author has invented. This is just England colonizing the Americas with the names changed. The only thing that could be said to be "fantasy" is that the population they're displacing in the process isn't an indigenous one, it was established by previous outcasts from their own country--though that wasn't clear to me until the first time we met them and they were white, blond, and used woad as decoration. So they're not supposed to be Native American analogues, they're supposed to be displaced Picts?

2. Either way, it's still racist and pro-colonization, because even if the Icori aren't meant to represent an indigenous people, they're still clearly Other, and constantly labeled as "savages" in order to justify taking their land, which all of our protagonists are participating in, in some form. Does it matter what color this fictional group of people is, if the narrative is parroting real history and real racism?

3. The second half of the plot feels, at best, tenuously related to the first half. The change in fortune for our protagonists that happens at the midpoint struck me as so flimsy and unbelievable that it was hard to take the rest of the book seriously, and that made it more obvious to me who the real villain was, despite whatever weak red herrings were planted along the way. Seriously--the first half of the story is The Bridgertons but the second turns into Little House on the Prairie. It's too big a genre shift to make the transition seem natural.

4. There were times when I was approaching a reasonable level of sympathy for our heroine, despite her many flaws, but every time the story had a chance to explore those flaws and perhaps let the character do some work on them...well, she just kept being headstrong and selfish and whiny, right up until the LHotP section where after a single pep talk from the hero, she's completely changed, resolved to her new station in life with a determination that seemed half-delusional and certainly out of character. She didn't work for it, so it didn't seem real.

5. I did not know, having picked up this book in isolation, that the rest of the "series" is actually the same time period from the perspective of one of the other girls, specifically the two best friends of the heroine. Now that I do know that, the giant blank spaces in this story where Mira and Tamsin constantly fall out of it without explanation--or with the pointedly obvious lampshade "it's not my business so I'm not going to ask"--make sense structurally. However, that doesn't mean I don't think it's a terrible flaw, because these holes are constant and irritating. For a while in the middle of the book, it felt like every time I turned two pages, the heroine was asking out loud, "Where's Mira?" And pretty quickly I knew that question wouldn't be answered in this book, so why keep asking?

6. I never found Cedric compelling enough a hero to justify the constant sacrifices that Adelaide made for him. I don't think he's a terrible character, and I enjoyed some of their banter and their occasional fights, but I'm also not about to add him to my book-boyfriend list, so it was hard to imagine myself, or anyone for that matter, doing as much for him as Adelaide did.

7. Religion. Woooo boy. I guess this part is the "fantasy" I was lamenting the lack of earlier, because if the accepted and heretic forms of this fictional religion are supposed to correspond to real-world counterparts, I didn't pick up on it with enough certainty to tell. But my problem is that it's suddenly a Very Big Deal that one character is a heretic, when religion had played such a small part in the story leading up to that revelation that I was mostly operating on the assumption that the main religion was socially performative, and that no one in the story was especially devout. Adelaide certainly doesn't seem to be. But since this heresy becomes central to the conflict later on, I wish it had been better established in the beginning, because (again) the second half of the book seems wildly different than the first, and this was another aspect that made it hard to take seriously.

8. Heteronormative AF. There's one token queer person who has a minor role, showing up just long enough for Adelaide to realize other women/cultures don't abide by her society's rigid norms and to feel briefly uncomfortable about it. But there's no follow-up, no depth, no opportunity for Adelaide to grow beyond what she's been taught. To some extent, I'm okay with that--not every story has room for fighting LGBT+ battles, and even more simply put, stories are allowed to be about other things. But parading just that one wlw character out for a moment, and making her a foreigner to reinforce her otherness, strikes me as a really poor choice if the story didn't actually want to fight that battle. Why bring it up at all? Especially as this is supposed to be fantasy, why couldn't the Glittering Court be an institution that provides marriage candidates to both men and women? If the candidate pool was both male and female, and so was the clientele, then many forms of queerness would be covered by it without having to dig into specifics about each character. (It doesn't directly address ace/aro people, but presumably they'd be less interested in a marriage mart anyway, on either side, and self-select out of it.) I mean, I know why, because that would mean that in the New World there would have to be women in positions of power who needed husbands (or wives, yes, but this wrinkle is about men.) And there's no shortage of men in the colonies, so that doesn't track logically the same way the actual setup does. But again, if this is supposed to be fantasy....

[agentnico]

A Quiet Place Part II (2021) Review

This film series is starting to remind me of The Walking Dead. Unfortunately, that is not a compliment...

Plot: Following the deadly events at home, the Abbott family must now face the terrors of the outside world as they continue their fight for survival in silence. Forced to venture into the unknown, they quickly realize that the creatures that hunt by sound are not the only threats that lurk beyond the sand path.

In a nutshell this sequel picks off straight after the events of the first film. The first film being a huge surprise that featured an original idea for the horror genre and the overall cinema viewing experience (yeah, try and slurp on your slushies loud now, ya bastards!!) and featuring a great blend of tone and tension with no release where you’re clinging to your seats real TIGHT. John Krasinski directed the hell out of that movie. He directed it FIRMLY and he directed it HARD!!… Sorry, I’ve recently been rewatching The Office (US) (ironically also featuring Mr Krasinski!) and now I’m all about ‘that’s what she said’ jokes. Anyway, naturally the first film was a huge success and garnered enough revenue for a sequel, and then the COVID pandemic hit which postponed this movie to this year and then it came out and I didn’t watch it because look, your geezer here has a busy life, he ain’t got so much time on his hands like he used to, he can’t just swashbuckle and see every cinema release on the planet, so I don’t apologise for this very very late (by numerous months) review of A Quite Place Part DEUX which is French for learn some French!!

A Quiet Place didn’t need a sequel. Yes you can say the first one ended on a cliff-hanger, but it was the kind of cliff-hanger which didn’t necessarily needed to be answered. The result is now we have a sequel which, though still filled with moments of tension and good performances, comes off as unnecessary. There’s a bit more world building however it is limited, and the plot progression is near to none. Following the discovery of how to kill the monsters in the first film, in this one we go ahead and learn... how to kill the monsters from the first film. Give them tinnitus, get a shotgun and George Ezra them in the face!! Rather than grow the story, they went in a circle and rehashed the same story on a slightly bigger scale. Heck, even the introduction of Cillian Murphy’s character is mainly for the purpose of replacing the father figure that died in the previous film. Even has the beard and all! There’s a reason I referred to The Walking Dead at the start of this review. There doesn’t seem to be an end goal. It’s just the same thing over and over again and honestly it drags, This movie isn’t particularly long and yet it feels long. 

I should also talk about the characters. In the first film they all seemed more intelligent. They were aware of what they could and couldn’t do, so they behaved themselves sensibly and carefully. I mean, yeah, it all went to crap at the end, but that was more due to a load of heavy bad luck. In this sequel however all the characters fall into the horror movie trope of making purposeful stupid decisions. Characters now think it is okay to go around and take unneeded risks every now and then. For example, our central family split up early on in the film due to the deaf girl deciding to go on a solo suicide mission which makes me wonder why James Gunn didn’t cast her in The Suicide Squad. And yes, I’m going to keep referencing that movie in my reviews, I loved it, it was great, all hail The Suicide Squad!! So yes, deaf girl does her thing, the mother decides to take a detour and visit her son’s grave because, you know, who cares if monsters are lurking about and then the son decides to become young Sherlock Holmes and go out and about and investigate whilst everyone else is out cause you know, monsters don’t eat kids apparently. Cillian Murphy’s character to be fair seemed like the more logical thinker this time around and I warmed to him quite quickly, and Murphy delivers the emotional baggage of his character well. We also have Djimon Hounsou pop up in a role which literally reflects how stupid characters are in this movie. 

It’s evident that this sequel was rushed and that John Krasinski originally only had a plan for one movie and a very good one in all honesty, and then business meant business meaning they wanted more dollar dollar bills and hence here we are. I don’t want to say that A Quiet Place Part II is terrible. The sound design is still incredible and as I said, there are real decent moments of tension that will tinker with your nerves, but overall I found myself to be disappointed with this one. I hear talk that they may be planning further sequels, and that’s all well and good, but I hope they take more time on them and maybe consider actually moving the story forward.

Overall score: 5/10

[nightshift-cup-of-coffin]

The Shadow (1/2)

“Hey, Two-digits” Princess called headed to the slushies. Princess stood nearly six feet tall, defined muscle, blue hair pulled in a bun, outside of work hours they always wore exercise wear. They always came to visit Dexter when they worked nightshift.

Princess slammed their extra jumbo slushie on the counter. “You know what I was thinking about, aliens.” They raised their eyebrows prompting Dexter to engage. Dexter was all too happy, he knew the second he opened his mouth Princess would interrupt with the story that prompted the comment.

“Oh, yeah?" Dexter raised his eyebrow.

“Yeah, remember that time we were working at the bookshop? That night we were setting up for that promo and the window broke. I mean, how does anyone differentiate the symptoms of aliens and ghosts? But like once you get to encounters...Bam! Demonic possession symptoms exhibit the same. How does anyone tell the difference”?

Dexter squinted at Princess, suspicious of the conversation. He opened his mouth to comment, Princess cut him off.

“Yeah, I mean I noticed but I was talking to Mandy and she made the same argument.”

‘There it was’ Dexter thought. The comment sounded far more like Mandy than Princess. Mandy could make any situation a gray area using only minimal logic and vocabulary. “You ever notice how she thinks about stuff way too much?” Princess went on.

Dexter nodded, eyes wide. Just thinking about it made him cringe. He had anxiety but my god only Mandy thought about everything all the time. The door chime rang, Dexter turned and greeted nothing. Princess met his eyes. “Okay, spooky." Princess shivered, "Anyway, I was telling her about the lights we saw and the shadow”.

------Flashback-------------------------------

The shift had been long, everyone's muscles ached giving an involuntary spasm when the manager sprung the plan. Everyone had to stay late for inventory except himself, of course. Only three other people occupied the store with Princess and Dexter.

Dexter and Princess were in the back complaining to one another when a loud bang spread, bouncing off walls, shaking some loose shelves. Everyone, following the noise, met by the front door. A display window lay shattered on the floor, blown inward, in bits. Everyone looked around confused and anxious.

There was no cause for it, no one had been near it and there was another set of windows facing outside. The café staff volunteered to clean it up in exchange for Princess taking backroom inventory. Dexter went back to setting up the displays giving a last furrowed brow look at Princess as they walked in the back.

It had been an hour since the window caved in and the air of tension had not thinned. The lights flickered feverishly for a moment all over the store. Dexter peeked his head above the shelves meeting the eyes of two café workers. Both looked back puzzled. Dexter turned the corner and met the eyes of his coworker, who just shrugged uninterested, exhausted. Dexter took the cue and turned back to his work. Dexter let out a yelp.

“Fuck man, I nearly died!” Princess had been an inch from his nose, they took a step back and just smiled down at him.

“Did the lights go out out here too?”.

“Yeah but they seem fine now.” Dexter picked up a stack of books. Princess shrugged, heading back to the store room. Dexter could swear Princess's shadow was warping; it appeared to crawl up the bookshelves. He cleaned his glasses but it was still there. Like a giant opaque dust bunny stuck to Princess's sweater. Dexter squinted hard, shook it off, but when he opened his eyes again the lights went out. Dexter could barely see the titles in front of him. A small scream came from the café. Dexter popped his head up over the shelf “are you okay!?”

A small squeak replied “Fine, just don’t like the dark."

Dexter looked at the lights, only the emergency lights lit up the building.. He heard the manager's door slam “We are gonna call Jim and find flashlights, okay everyone?" The door closed behind the café worker before anyone could answer.

“Alright” a simultaneous answer came from the three people stuck blind in the back. Dexter felt his way out into the open area by the customer service desk, at least here he could see when the flashlights lit up. There was also nothing to trip or fall over to one's death out here.

He had a view of the whole store from here not that it helped but he felt more in control.

“Dexter, there might be torches in the customer service drawer, if you can make it, I'll try to meet you there”.

“No, Princess, don't move. If I find one I'll guild you. You can see over the shelves..”

“...Without being on my tippy toes” Princess replied snickering.

Dexter rolled his eyes “yeah, yeah, just stay put”. Dexter extended his hand to the desk he could barely see.

“Psst” Princess was tugging on Dexter's sleeve. Dexter jumped, dropping the flashlight.

“God dammit P, what in the hell!” Dexter could barely see the expression on Princess's face but could see they were not looking at him. Dexter followed their focus to two bright foggy white disks hanging about two feet from the ceiling. The lights looked like tinfoil balls. As he stared the lights came closer. Crossing the distance between Princess and Dexter, nearly over their heads now.

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. XLII

It was a love story from the very beginning.

Just You and Me

(9x06)

Hello My Friends!!! How are you? I'm here again with another meta from this series. This time is time for a very Destiel one, episode 9x06 Heaven can't wait.

I know is a very analyzed episode, well known by all the FANDOM, so I will be quick with some scenes, just mentioning things that we all know, and pointing mostly how the characters felt during the different scenes.

I want to say thank you to my friend @agusvedder , she made the gifs for this meta and discussed with me the episode. Thank you girl! 😘💕

Pain-Lost-Depression

I'm gonna start talking about the Rit Zien (in enochian means HANDS OF MERCY), this different class of angels assisted in the battlefield helping angels wounded to heal, and giving peace (by ending with them) to those who were past saving, wounded with emotional damage.

Let's swim now through his victims in this episode and why he chose Castiel like one of them.

The first victim was a man who had lost his wife, so, he was depressed, he couldn't handle his lost, the love of his life. He had a huge pain he even called to suicide line. The Rit Zien appeared a vanished him, into micro molecules, and the color was PINK.

You know pink represents Happiness, so, we could infer this angel tried to give the pain a relief. To transform it into happiness in Heaven.

The second victim was a girl, who had just break up to his boyfriend, and she was saying this exactly words .. pay attention...

GIRL He dumped me, Jace. (pause) In the cafeteria. In front of everyone. It's just like ... who does that, you know? Like, why couldn't he just dump me on Facebook like a normal person? (pause) I've been destroyed. Socially and romantically … totaled. (pause) I know. I'm just so embarrassed, Jace. I could just die.

She's recalling us to Castiel, and how Dean dumped him from the bunker. And she's describing her feelings, so we can think Cas is feeling dumped, destroyed and embarrassed.

So... Then... Cas must be very upset with Dean. As we will see in the next point, he is.

But now, when the Rit Zien heard her asking for death, he just gave her death, and happiness in Heaven, as we could see when he transformed that girl in pink color.

So, two cases about two people in love, one had lost his wife, and was deeply depressed, and the second one was dumped by her boyfriend, feeling embarrassed.

And if you pay attention too to Castiel's singing to the baby, the lyrics are very melancholic... Flying away in a wing and a prayer... He misses being an angel, he said it again while he was trying to calm the baby, touching his forehead...

After talking with the baby about how it felt being a human all of the sudden, he says...

CASTIEL: (...) You know, it wasn't that long ago when all I'd need to do to ease your pain was touch you.

So... This is melancholy, sadness...

But let's come back to the logic of the victims... As I said first one... Two cases related with lover lost, a girl dumped by his boyfriend...

Then... Castiel being the third victim, shouldn't surprise us at all...

CASTIEL: It's a fever, Ephraim. It will pass.

(Cas thought the angel had came for the baby)

ANGEL (EPHRAIM): You remember my name? I was just a nobody when we met, but you – you were a legend. You've been here before. This is my first time, and it's ... intense.

The Rit Zien remarked Cas was a legend, so he felt honored he could remember his name, but also, and this is very interesting, he's talking about being surrounded by humans, and Hyman's feelings SO INTENSE. I'm pointing this, because there's a scene in the car with Dean in which Case says everything is different, about feelings, about being a human. I just want you to keep this in mind for the next points.

CASTIEL: How'd you find me?

EPHRAIM: Because you're warded? The same way I find all my patients – I just followed the sound of your pain. You have no idea how loud it is. I could hear you for miles

This has to caught our attention. Castiel is in pain, huge pain. He's depressed. He lost his grace, he had to for through being homeless, starved, facing our most deep decadency. And then he had to suffered Dean's rejection. Castiel, who had learn now what his feelings were. As a human, he's sure now that strong feeling he had for Dean is LOVE, and being dumped by him, leaving him in the streets again, is a deep pain, a deep wound, just as painful like losing his grace. So, his pain was loud.

Cas is mad at Dean, and Dean wants see him desperately

Okay, now that we talked about the case, let's focus in Destiel.

Castiel called Dean for the case... And Dean noticed Cas was kind of... Weird, and maybe mad, this made him anxious, and he decided to go to that case ALONE, and find Cas, just in case...

But really, the conversation they had by the phone is hilarious. First of all, Dean stood up and walked away from Kevin and Sam, when he realized it was Cas. Looking for privacy??

DEAN: Hello?

CASTIEL (calling from the Gas'n'Sip) I may have a case for you. (CASTIEL is cleaning the slurpee machine while he talks.) Four missing in Rexford, Idaho. (DEAN stands up, walking away from the table.) Presumed dead, but no bodies have been released to loved ones. And, there were reports of a strange substance at the scenes.

Okay, we'll just stop here, notice how Dean says HELLO but Castiel doesn't, he just goes straight to the point of his call, this is the first sign that he's mad, he wouldn't call, but he has this case, so he had to. Not a nice thing to do for him, because he would prefer no to pass for this. Not to talk with the one that dumped him.

DEAN: Oh, well, hello to you too, Cas. How are you?

Dean noticed that too, and he insists with the HELLO, and he asks how Cas is doing. He knows Cas must be mad at him.

CASTIEL: I ... am busy.

Cas cut him. He was actually, nervously trying to... Do something with the smoothie machine.

DEAN shakes his head.

DEAN All right. So, how do you want to do this?You want to meet up at the latest scene? You want me to pick you up? What?

Dean is proposing see each other, he wants to work with him, Dean wants to see him.

CASTIEL's efforts with the Slushy machine are not going well. A flood of liquid blue slushy mix spills out over the machine and onto the floor. DEAN hears the trickling sound and looks puzzled.

CASTIEL Um … I've got my hands full over here. I just – um...

And this is when Cas gets flustered and the machine is a mess of blue liquid all over the floor. Is not coincidence that when Dean offered Cas an encounter, the mess with the blue fuold happened. Is a consequence of Castiel feeling nervous, an encounter with Dean is something that gets him flustered. Nervous. Anxious. Now that Castiel is a human, he understands clearly what happens in his heart with Dean. He knows that feeling is LOVE. So, isn't that easy, being dumped, get mad, and now calling him, and now seeing him again? Too intense.

DEAN Cas? Hello?

Dean is convinced now that Cas is mad at him, so he decided to go ALONE to see him.

He invented some excuses because Sam wanted to go with him, he tries to minimize the importance of the case, but that made it more suspicious, so Sam asks...

SAM: So, he said nothing about where he is or – or what he's been doing?

DEAN: This is Cas. In case you forgot, he's not exactly Chatty Cathy.

SAM (incredulously) And you're not even gonna see him when you're in Idaho?

DEAN: Well, like I said, as long as he's catnip for angels, he's keeping his distance.

DEAN turns to continue walking, now leaving the room.

SAM: So then, what's the point, Dean? I mean, it's barely even a case.

Sam couldn't understand why his brother was almost running to that "not case" so fast, answering all his questions with not very truly answers.

DEAN (from a balcony, talking down to the other two) That's why I'm just gonna go have a little look-see, and … we're not gonna waste a whole lot of manpower on a big pile of nada.

And then Kevin gave him the perfect excuse...

Dean must be thinking... Thanks Kevin, over there... Finally alone, just Cas and him.

Jilted Lover and pining boy

We know Misha Collins said producers asked him to play this scene like a jilted Lover, and he did it perfect.

We had this classic Destiel scene... Dean talking with Sam by the phone, outside the Impala, drinking a coffee, we don't see more... Till this happens...

Dean lowered his head, because he had it covered, he doesn't need his brother help, because he has Cas. And he wants to be alone with him, this gesture, he gets a little nervous over there, like... Anxious... Why? Because he's doing this... This is his cover...

This is pining, my friends, no friend stays out of the window CONTEMPLATING his handsome best friend working, like... If this isn't pining what is is then? Why he would stop by Castiel's work, watching him for so long?? He wasn't afraid, because when he finally made his dramatic entrance, he wasn't ashamed, so, he just does it because he wanted to contemplate him. Because he is pining for him. Because he contemplates the man he loves. People that are in love do that. Period.

When Dean appears in front of Cas, Castiel's fav is priceless. He's surprised, but it seems like of his heart just gave a jump! Like OMG! HE'S HERE! WHY?

Look at the deception in Dean's face, again Cas is not saying him hello. And he was waiting for a better response. But, okay, Cas is mad, some maybe not a good response, but at least a HI.

After this, Castiel gets mad again because Dean is disappointed to find him working there and not hunting. Cas names the whole situations he had to go through, because he can't believe Dean shows up as if dumping him from the bunker was nothing...

CASTIEL: My Grace is gone. What did you expect? Do you have any idea how hard it was? When I fell to earth, I didn't just lose my powers. I – I had nothing. Now... I'm a sales associate (proudly)

Castiel is proud, he's showing Dean LOOK HOW I GOT THIS WITHOUT YOUR HELP. I DID IT BY MYSELF.

But Dean doesn't want this for Cas and mostly, he needs him back with him, even if it has to be just for one case. So he will try to convince him, just like the old times.

Then... Nora enters in the scene. At first Dean made his wtf and jealous face when he sees the heart eyes. And then he plays the NO HOMO BUDDY right there.

Trying to get some info, and the result is Cas has a date!

Flirting

After recognize the case was about a Rit Zien, Dean wants him to be aboard with him to stop the angel... But Castiel says this...

CASTIEL: But he just got here. The ebb and flow of human emotion – Dean, I've been on earth for a few years, and I've only begun to grasp it. To him, pain is pain.

And then this...

That's why I said before keep in mind the INTENSE word about Human's feelings. Cas is getting now what is this all about. He's getting know the intensity of the feelings... Love, hate, pain, depression, sadness, joy. He is experiencing all of them. That's why I truly believe he understood what he felt for Dean.

I readed once @amwritingmeta post about this scene here, and the second meaning of I NEED A RIDE and the face Dean made... And I laughed so hard, because she showed in that post the wishfully and lustful face Dean showed. Priceless. Pay attention... When Cas says I NEED A RIDE, Dean's imagination was... To... Where? Cas having a good ride? By whom? Him? Okay. Too hilarious, but Jensen did it. Jensen made that face in Dean's skin... Dirty pining boy for his ex hot angel.

Then he turned to Cas to see if he realized what he had just Sayed, and of course he doesn't!

So... Second meaning for flirting... Is not gonna work Dean...

Tony Manero

When Cas and Dean were in the car, and Castiel was about to get out on his date, Dean says this words that generally are used when someone who's in love with the person is about to having a date with a third one, says to stop him. And our hearts stopped right there... But Dean Winchester made it NO HOMO again, talking about the wardrobe.

Even Cas has a hint of hopes in his eyes, why Dean would choose those words right there? Because he was feeling like that, he was still flirting with him, he was jealous, and he didn't want to let the angel go. But his repressed feelings won't let him verbalize it. So... He plays it...

DEAN: Okay. Uh, lose the vest.

CASTIEL: What are you –

Even Cas doesn't get what Dean wants, not even Dean knows it either...

Okay this was very gay, very. And Dean drooling face calling his friend TONY MANERO like the pining boy he is for his gorgeous and hot ex angel friend.

Comparing Castiel with Tony Manero, Made us go to that movie immediately, and to one scene in the car between John Travolta (Tony Manero) and his friend, Stephanie. (Thanks to Agus for show me the scene and discuss with me this). And I know this had been talked largely in the fandom, the frames and the position of the actors were the same like Dean with Cas, but is very interesting the dialogue. Tony was helping Stephanie to move on into a new house with a married man who was using her. When Tony detects this, they both had a conversation in the car and Tony made a jealous scene. Asking for that man, saying her he was using her, and she breaks talking about how that man helped her, that she was alone. You don't know what I had to go through. Is a huge Cas parallel, when Dean starts to recriminate him about his job in the Gas'n sip. And a Jealous Tony is compared with jealous!Dean about Nora. And don't forget, Nora was using Castiel like baby-sitter.

So because Dean was jealous... He was acting like the best friend giving his buddy advices about the date. But he was being ambiguous, like half flirting and acting gay and half giving advices and no homo. The truth was, he was drooling for Cas, pining for him... Even my mom saw that!

But let's return again to Cas in his "date"...

We saw how Dean contemplates Castiel again while he was walking towards that door, collecting a rose, smiling like a dummie because Cas looks so cute doing that. And the writers showed us Cas sucking his finger because one spine hurted him? Like? Why show something so sexy while Dean is watching? Do I need to add more here?

This was a huge romantic Destiel scene, with reference to a romantic movie, and we were witness of that!

Good Bye

Another Destiel scene, and this will be the last, sorry for the extension of this meta, is the goodbye scene. We had Dean with a half I'm sorry (because he couldn't say the truth, and Cas being so sad.

Pay attention when Cas is leaving, Dean's painful expression, the guilt and the repressed feelings... He really wants to tell Cas everything and bring him home with him, desperately... But he can't, and is so painful to him. Castiel is sad too, their faces are... Just sadness and pain. They don't like to be apart from each other... Damn...

To Conclude:

Episode 9x06 was a very Destiel chapter. We had the reference to Castiel's depression for lost his grace and being dumped by Dean.

We had a desperate Dean to fix things with his angel, running at his first call, insisting for his help, desperate for having a hint just the two of them. Being jealous, flirty, and very in love with his ex angel buddy.

The car scene with the reference to Tony Manero (a bi vives character in one of the most famous romantic movies), and the two CONTEMPLATING THE LOVE OF MY LIFE scenes, marked this episode like one of the most romantic episode in the whole show.

I hope you like this meta, see you in the next!

Tagging @metafest @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @trickster-archangel @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @tenshilover20 @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica

If you want to be tagged, just let me know.

If you want to read my previous metas about s9, you have the links here and here.

Buenos Aires, December 18th 2019 7:37 PM

[audikatia]

1.08 Mash-up

Rating: 3/5. Most of the plot was meh and I cringed through most of the music, but I never like Rachel this much and I do like more insight into Puck.

Best Song: “Sweet Caroline” because I am a basic white girl and also because Schue rapping makes me regret so much.

Memorable Quote: “I just think you want it too much, which is something I can relate to. I want everything too much.” -Rachel

General Notes:

Who asked for Schue to sing “Bust A Move?” Who did this to me? Someone has to pay.

I do love the little moments between characters during group songs in the classroom though. Kurt and Mercedes are just too cute.

I know I shouldn’t get caught up in the logic of this show, but how much is a slushie? Why would you spend the money on a slushie just to throw it at someone’s face?

I would have preferred if they never explained why Schue and Sue danced. Also, I just realized they have rhyming names like Kurt/Burt and Finn/Quinn. That’s actually pretty cute.

“Your commitment to football is about as long as your pants.” That’s a weird line. Why would you say that? You only say that if you been focused on the length of the man’s pants for a while.

Karofsky looks like an infant.

Oh, okay, I actually like the softness of Rachel calling him Noah and sitting on his lap.

Was that actually Emma singing? Did her face hurt every day from constantly having that wide-eye stare?

Finn knowing about Kurt’s skincare routine <3

Rachel and Puck talking on the bleachers is an example of when I like this show best, when the characters talk without hidden agendas and genuinely connect without being dicks. Also, this is the most I have ever liked Rachel.

Schue, you can’t sing like that and then be a father figure.

I really love that thing Finn does where he explains a situation and then gives too similar examples, but one is smart and the other is super dumb. Again, I like when the show leans into tropes like that.

“I will go the animal shelter and get you a kitty cat. I will let you fall in love with that kitty cat. And then on some dark, cold night, I will steal away into your home and punch you in the face.” This is one of the best lines from the entire fucking show. It would be the memorable quote, but everyone quotes this one and I actually really resonated with the Rachel quote I picked. But this is like Hall of Fame level shit, really.

So. Like. The teachers don’t do anything about the slushies? Where are the janitors??

[moodyandmoonyeyed]

Don’t You (Forget About Me)

Category: Stranger Things Characters: Lucas Sinclair, Max Mayfield, The Party Word Count: 4728 Summary: Part 16 of Stories from Summer - “Recreating a cheesy moment from the movies of ‘85″

[A/N]: I’m so incredibly proud to be a part of this collaboration and also, bet you can’t guess which movie I picked (spoiler: it’s unfortunately not The Goonies).

“I bet I can drink this faster than you can,” Max goaded as her and Lucas made their way out of the convenience store and back into the heat. The sun was beating down on their faces, already melting the slushies they had just purchased giving only their fingers any respite with the cold condensation covering the plastic cups.

The summer of ‘85 was proving to be another brutal one. The party had been living in cooler weather for so long that they forgot just how hot mid July could be. Of course, they all preferred it to winter, when it was harder to ride around everywhere and they had to be bundled up in coats and scarves, but still. Anyone who spent more than two minutes outside knew that it was best to stay in air conditioned buildings for as long as possible.

Everyone that was, except for Max. Growing up in California, she was used to higher temperatures and anything below 75 sent her running for a jacket. It always made Lucas laugh and shake his head at how absolutely stubborn she could be when it came to the weather. If she thought it was cold, there was no point in arguing with her because she’d never let up, and while her points never made any real sense (like the time she tried to convince everyone that her hair was frizzier that day because it reacted badly to the cold), her conviction was so strong that you thought for maybe a few seconds she could be telling the truth. But Lucas loved being right and hated losing just as much as the redhead so at this tempting offer at proving who was best, he couldn’t stop the small shiver of adrenaline that ran through him.

“I highly doubt that,” he replied, taking a big slurp and revelling in the feel of the ice traveling down his throat, relieving his body of heat for just a few seconds.

“Well let’s just test it out then,” she said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and turning to face him, hand on her hip and determination settling on her face. Her eyes were squinted in the bright sunlight but he could still make out a glimmer of the same thrill that was probably rushing through her at the prospect of a winner takes all game.

“Okay...what are the rules?” he asked, always the logical one.

“Easy enough, whoever finishes their slushie first wins.” Max rolled her eyes at his total ridiculousness over the small things. She loved the guy and all (in a 100% friends but we happen to be dating sort of way), but sometimes he was too much.

“Well yeah, but like...if we’re gonna make it a bet then we need to decide what the loser will do,” he explained, exasperated that she hadn’t caught on to what he meant.

This one stumped her. She hadn’t really thought past just poking fun and seeing if he would actually race her in drinking the cold beverage, probably resulting in some serious brain freeze and a deliciously cold stomach ache. “How about...winner’s choice? Like...when I win I’ll decide then what I’ll make you do,” she decided, smiling at the triumph she could already feel tingling in her fingertips.

Lucas let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah right. First of all, I’ll be the winner at the end of this, just you wait. I’ve done this plenty of times with the others (not necessarily true) and all of them have yet to beat me (definitely not true),” he boasted, clearly proud of himself with his shoulders back and chest puffed.

Max rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile at the boy in front of her. Sometimes she wondered how they managed to hang out at all without constantly ripping into each other. They always seemed to be betting or bickering or full on fighting about something. But then Lucas would do something like offer her half of his candy bar in the middle of the spat or just look at her with clear adoration in his eyes or do what he was doing now and just not back down and it would remind her that she was best friends with him because no matter how bad the argument got, it never affected their relationship, and it was always fun.

“Second,” Lucas continued, clearly not realizing that Max was deep in thought about him, “I’m not going into this blindly, oh no. I wanna know what I’m getting myself into before I decide whether to put my fate in your hands,” he pointed out, crossing his arms.

“If you’re so sure you’re going to win then why be bothered by it at all?” she poked. They had started walking again, back to the park where they had left their friends, because clearly this was going to take some convincing.

Lucas let out a string of sputtering noises, not knowing how to rebuke the notion that he was at all in fear of losing.

“Got you, didn’t I?” she laughed, squinting up at him. The sun was hitting his skin in a way that made him look like he was glowing with sunlight himself and her next breath stuck in her throat with how stunning the sight was. Unfortunately, it also meant she didn’t see the uneven sidewalk in front of her and the toe of her vans caught on the ridge, jolting her forward. She could see it now, the hospital visit and the stitches, and the tension at home from it all, and that thought knotted her stomach tighter than the anticipation of the actual pain she knew she’d be feeling.

As she closed her eyes and accepted her fate, she felt someone’s hand grab her arm and stop her just inches away from pummeling into the pavement, and pull her back to her feet.

“Are you okay?” she heard Lucas ask, worry lacing his voice.

Max chuckled with relief and nodded, trying to shake the nervous tears out of her eyes before looking at him. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said a little breathless. “Thanks.”

His shoulders relaxed with the release of the tension he had been holding in them and he smiled, squeezing the hand he was still holding. “I’m just glad you didn’t spill your slushie. How else was I supposed to beat you?” he joked.

“Ha ha, very funny. Although I guess I will pick a less severe punishment for your eventual failure. Y’know, for saving my life and all.” She motioned at the ground and carefully stepped over the crack that had almost sent her skidding.

“Oh, how kind of you.”

“I know. I’m a real peach,” she laughed, smiling up at him with a huge, fake grin.

“But seriously, we have to decide on actual things,” he pushed as they finally reached the park.

“How about…” she looked around at everyone else that was there to have fun, pushing kids on swings and running around in games of tag or kicking a soccer ball back and forth in the grassy field next to the slides. Her eyes clicked on the party, and more specifically El whos ears seemed to sparkle in the bright summer light. The young girl had just gotten her ears pierced the day before and she loved pushing her hair back to show off the tiny gold hearts with small rhinestones set in the middle, making it clear to everyone that she was incredibly proud that she got to do normal things finally. This gave Max an idea. “How about if I win, you have to pierce your ear,” she smirked, turning her back to their group and looking him straight in the eye.

She saw Lucas visibly gulp, but as no one would (technically) be getting hurt and nothing embarrassing could potentially come to fruition through the small act, she knew he wouldn’t be able to back down. He solemnly nodded and cleared his throat. “Deal.”

“Okay, but what about if you win?” she asked, realizing that there was real merit in knowing what you were getting yourself in to. Maybe he was rubbing off on her after all this time.

He put a finger to his chin in mock thought and took several large looks around the playground, obviously trying to keep her in suspense for as long as possible.

“If I win, you have to cut your hair,” he decided with a smirk of his own.

“What? No way! That’s way more drastic than getting your ear pierced,” she complained, anxiety filling her stomach.

“Except I’ll be going through physical pain,” he argued, subconsciously tugging at his earlobe, already feeling a phantom sting. “Plus, you’ve been talking about doing this all summer; you just haven’t worked up the guts to do it. Technically, I’m going easy because I’m giving you something you already want.”

“Except that I haven’t done it because I don’t want to do it, obviously,” she said, voice a little hesitant in the sort of lie. It was true, she had been thinking about cutting some of her hair off. It was just so hot and while she enjoyed the heat, the humidity wasn’t her favorite and it was sending her hair into frizzy messes. Every morning was a twenty minute struggle to untangle all of the knots that formed overnight, and she figured it’d be easier to manage if she chopped off a few inches. But she was still entirely scared of having it done, and wasn’t sure she was okay with it being forced on her.

“Well?” Lucas pestered, tapping his foot in impatience.

She let out a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes, sticking her hand out. “Fine,” she grumbled. After all, she was asking him to stick a needle through his ear.

He let out a whoop of laughter and shook her outstretched hand before finishing their way back to their friends.

“What’s all the cheering for?” Mike asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. With these two there could be all sorts of shenanigans about to go down.

“Oh nothing,” Lucas said in a fake blase tone that clearly meant something was up. It didn’t take long however for his face to contort with impish glee as he cackled out their plan to the party, and Max was suddenly terrified of just how competitive this kid was.

“Calm down, Stalker, it’s not that serious,” she half-laughed.

“Oh it’s very serious,” he said almost solemnly.

“Well you might as well do it now before the slushies finish melting,” Will pointed out to the two of them. In all of the thought and worry that went into planning the bet, neither one of them had realized that the sun had turned their drinks to almost complete liquid. This boded well for both of them since it’d be easier to suck down, but it also struck a stronger note of fear in their hearts since they knew the competition would be neck-in-neck.

“Are you ready?” Dustin asked.

Lucas and Max both nodded, turning to face one another, cups raised and straws ready as if they were about to have an actual fight.

“Would you like to do the honors, El?” Dustin asked.

The girl nodded vigorously, always thrilled to be included in any crazy schemes the others got themselves into.

“On your mark,” she started, just like she had seen them do for races at the Fourth of July picnic the Wheeler’s had held. “Get set.” She paused for maximum effect, before filling her lungs with enough air to shout loud enough for the whole park to hear, “GO!”

Max and Lucas jumped at the volume of the word before shoving straws in their mouths and slurping at the syrupy ice as fast as they could. Neither of them paid attention to anything other than the task in front of them and the prize they both thought was just in reach.

“Go, go, go!” Will shouted with glee, a huge smile spreading over his face. It had been months since the Mind Flayer incident but he still felt the need to cherish each moment he spent with his friends, scared that the monster would come back for him.

“Honestly, I hope Max wins,” Dustin debated with Mike. “How funny would it be to see Lucas get an earring,” he laughed. He had gotten over his initial resentment to the two of them being together and was enjoying just having Max as another friend to nerd out with.

“Yeah but if Lucas wins we can all finally stop listening to Max complain about her hair,” Mike griped, rolling his eyes. Things were definitely better between the two of them but they still got on each other’s nerves and argued all the time. Not the way that Lucas and Max did, with some weird layer of affection filling each battle of wits they had, but more like how he and Nancy argued. Like you could say whatever you wanted but at the end of the day it didn’t matter because you were bonded for life.

“I’m too scared to look!” El exclaimed, covering her eyes but peeking through her fingers. There was such a thrill coursing through her veins just in being out in the open, surrounded by strangers, and having a real moment with her friends. It was days like these that El wished she could just borrow one of Jonathan’s cameras and take all of the pictures so she’d never forget a single second. She had spent so many days locked in the lab and then locked in the cabin, worried that she’d never get to experience these things that when she did, she was filled with a sense of dread of forgetting them, and she hated that such happy memories were always tainted with fear.

Eventually, the last slurps were heard and Max threw her cup to the ground, raising her hands in victory as she saw that Lucas had bent over, hand to his head, the drink too cold for him to handle.

“Whoo hoo!” she screamed, running around the small group in victory laps. “I told you I’d win, Sinclair!”

Lucas was still bent double, now in just as much shame and defeat as pain, but no one could see that he was still smiling at the ground, happy for his girlfriend. “Congratulations, Mad Max,” he choked out, finally straightening up and pulling her in for a hug.

“Stop being mushy, Stalker, I just beat your ass. Let me celebrate,” she groaned, shrugging him off and continuing to run around shouting out her own accolades.

The rest of the group just shook their heads in laughter, not wanting to end Max’s happiness any sooner than it really needed to, while Lucas just stared on in admiration.

Finally she put her hands to her knees to take some deep breaths, winded from the running and screaming, but a smile was still plastered across her face and she couldn’t stop the elated chuckles from escaping every few seconds. “Oh wow,” she breathed heavily. “I really thought I wouldn’t win there for a second,” she admitted shaking her head in awe at herself. “I like started to choke at one point and thought that was the end but...wow,” she continued, taking deep breaths every few words. “Whoo,” she said, finally straightening up and whipping her hair into a ponytail to get it off her sweating neck. “Hey, now I don’t have to cut my hair!” she claimed gleefully.

“Ha ha, Lucas has to get his ear pierced,” Dustin mocked, pointing at his friend.

“So when are we gonna go do this?” Mike asked, a look of excitement on his own face. He had to admit this would be fun to watch. “The sooner the better right? Otherwise you’ll just overthink it. Do we know anyone who can pierce ears?”

“I can do it,” Max said.

“Um no? I’m not letting you stick a needle in my ear, no thanks,” Lucas denied quickly, backing away in slight fear of her.

“Oh c’mon. I did it for a couple of friends back home! It’s not that hard. We just need ice, some rubbing alcohol, and a needle. Well and an earring,” she explained, ticking each thing off on her fingers. “We’ll just head to my house now. No one’s home anyway so we’ll be fine.”

The others all cheered and started to head towards their bikes, ready to watch the bet be carried out, but Lucas lagged behind, wanting to put this off for as long as possible. He was glad that Max had won - he always loved it when she got so excited she couldn’t contain it - but he had to admit that he was really scared of this. He was terrified of needles and honestly thought he was going to win himself which is why he had agreed to the bet in the first place.

Max fell back into step beside him and grabbed his hand, knowing that he was having second thoughts. “You don’t have to do this, y’know. It’s just a dumb bet. I probably wouldn’t have ever cut my hair anyway if you had won,” she laughed.

Lucas shook his head. He may be scared but he was more stubborn than that and wouldn’t fail to see this thing through. “No. We shook on it, I have to go through with it. I’m just...a little nervous is all,” he admitted, a blush creeping up on his face, adding to the heat of the day.

“I get it. The buildup to it was the worst. I hated it, especially since I don’t even wear usually earrings anyway, which is why I’m offering you an out. We can make another bet if you want,” she amended. “I’ll even let you win this time so you don’t have to lose twice AND get your ear pierced,” she said.

“Max, I’m serious. I’m gonna do this because I said I would. I’m a man of my word,” he joked, poking her in the side.

She chuckled some more and stopped to wrap her arms around him in a hug.

“Thanks,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for exactly, but it felt right to say.

“Isn’t it too hot to be hugging like that?” Mike called out to him, straddling his bike with El behind him.

“Like you have any room to talk, Wheeler,” Max called back, rolling her eyes.

They made it to Max’s house in record time and ten minutes later they were all piled in the bathroom. It was a tight fit so Dustin and Mike were in the shower. Being the taller two of the group (or at least of the ones that weren’t getting their ears pierced) it was the only logical place to stand so El and Will could see too.

Lucas was perched uneasily on the toilet, hands tapping against his bouncing legs, letting out huge breaths every once in a while.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Will asked, placing a hand on his shoulder in concern.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be fine. Just don’t like needles,” he muttered, another pang of anxiety hitting him in the gut.

“Found it,” Max said, finally entering the bathroom herself, all of the necessary items in tow. “Okay, this is probably gonna bleed a little, but I promise it’ll only hurt for a few seconds,” she reassured Lucas, making sure that he looked her in the eyes to see she was being serious.

“How would you know? You had yours professionally done!” he said, fingers knotting together.

“I told you! I’ve done this on plenty of people and they’ve all said it only stings a little bit. Plus, it’s not like the pain is different just because of the method. Don’t you trust me?” she asked, giving him a playful glare, and cleaning the needle with a rubbing alcohol wipe that she had found in the medicine cabinet.

He sighed. “Of course I do.”

“Well then stand up!”

Lucas got to his feet, albeit a little unsteadily, and gripped the sink for support.

“Okay. I’m gonna use the ice cube to numb it, and then I’ll poke it through. I’ve brought you the least ostentatious earring of the one’s my mom has bought me throughout the years,” she said, holding it out for everyone to see.

It actually wasn’t the worst. Just a small gemstone that plenty of people would find completely normal for him to wear.

He nodded and took one last breath before screwing up his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch any of this going down in the mirror. The room was filled with a palpable tension and everyone was on the edge of their seats. Or they would be if they had seats.

Max took a deep breath of her own and put the ice to his ear lobe, holding it there for a count of what would have been twenty seconds if around 13 Lucas hadn’t started complaining that it was cold and he had already suffered one brain freeze so couldn’t they just hurry this up? She nodded even though he couldn’t see it and after three more seconds, threw the cube into the sink and stuck the needle through.

The next few moments went by in an odd paradox of slow and fast. It couldn’t have been more than seven seconds but to Lucas, the pain of the needle felt drawn out for so much longer and his shout caused everyone to cover their ears, including Max who was still clutching the bloody needle. It threw everyone into their own oblivion’s of climactic anticipation and relief, and they held their hunched poses for just a little bit longer. Through the stinging in his ear, and the burn of tears in his eyes, Lucas realized he was on his own for this next part and steadily as he could, picked up the earring and fitted it into place in the new hole Max had created in his lobe.

Finally, his heart started to slow down and the pain in his ear started to ebb. “Okay. It’s done,” he announced.

One by one it seemed, the party drew their hands back to their sides and stared at Lucas’s new reflection in the mirror. There was still a small trail of blood trickling down his neck, but also a sort of prideful gleam in his eyes as if to say, ‘someone else come at me.’

Silence filled the small, cramped bathroom for several minutes as everyone revelled in the culmination of a crazy bet, and they all knew, this was a story they’d carry with them forever. Sure nothing eventful had truly happened, but just the wave of emotions and the atmosphere that almost sparked with the thrill of a summer adventure made this one a permanent memory.

Several hours later, after El had broken the bubble they had surrounded themselves in with an extremely giddy ‘well I like it’, and everyone had laughed, and they carried on over to Lucas’s house so he could get a fresh shirt, and they could play video games and while away the rest of the sunlight, Lucas and Max were sat on the curb outside, as the sun started to dip below the horizon.

“I can’t believe you actually did it,” Max laughed, looking at the reflecting stone that sparked off of his ear.

“Honestly I can’t believe I did it either,” he admitted, a sheepish grin settling on his lips.

“You’ve always been brave like that,” she muttered, ducking her head to his shoulder and placing a soft kiss there.

“Well, thanks,” he said, a shiver running down his arm. “You know you’re pretty brave too,” he told her after a few seconds of staring at the sun.

She laughed sardonically at herself. “Please. I told you, I wouldn’t have gone through with it if you had won.” She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the ends that were still mercifully in place. After today and the fear of maybe having to actually say goodbye to some of it, she knew she’d never cut it now.

“I think you would have,” he told her, pulling on a strand hanging in her face.

“You have a lot more faith in me than I do myself then,” she said, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her chin on them.

“No seriously. I think the relief of not having to do it is making you believe you never would have done it. But I got my ear pierced, and I think you would have cut your hair,” he explained, poking her arm.

She looked over at him and watched the way the sun turned his eyes a more milky brown than usual. A slow smile crept along her face as well as a blush and she had to bury her head in her arms to keep it from being noticed. Sometimes she couldn’t handle just how much she felt for Lucas.

Maybe it was the summer or just that her feelings were growing stronger, but each day her stomach did more flips and filled with more butterflies of anticipation for the future. She didn’t know if they’d always be like this, but something about the endless days and the constant sun and the merriment of everyone around them had her believing that maybe it could be.

Summer had always been Max’s favorite season, but with Lucas by her side, she knew she was beginning to only feel the true joys of what it had to offer her. It was a time of endless possibilities and hope and fun and everything that a young relationship should be. After the demise of her parent’s marriage, Max was sure she’d ever feel that way about someone, all ideas of princes and fairy tales immediately dashed from her dreams. And maybe Lucas was no Prince Charming, more like Prince Asshole usually, but everything about what they had was special in it’s own way.

“I should be going,” she said, finally pulling her head from her arms and realizing that the day had quickly descended into darkness.

“Yeah, alright,” Lucas said, standing up and holding a hand out for her.

“Thanks,” she said, brushing off the seat of her shorts and grabbing her skateboard from the lawn beside her.

She studied him for a few seconds before deciding something. “You know...El says she likes it, but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Maybe I picked the wrong thing,” she chuckled, head cocked to the side. It didn’t necessarily look bad, but it didn’t suit him well either. Lucas was always a person to do everything for the look of things. Every adventure they went on was clearly laid out and designed with a careful attention to detail all on Lucas’s part. The matching bandanas he had gotten them all and the army tools and war paint. This earring just wasn’t living up to its potential of everything that was Lucas.

“Yeah I was gonna take it out before bed anyway,” he laughed, pulling at it. It had started to itch and he wasn’t sure how sleeping with it in was going to go. He took it out and picked up Max’s hand, placing it in the palm and wrapping her fingers around it. “Always remember me,” he joked, as if this were some sad summer ending and they’d never see each other again.

She rolled her eyes and pecked him on the lips before remembering the moment in ‘The Breakfast Club’ where Molly Ringwald gave Judd Nelson her earring. A sly and somewhat cheesy grin spread on her face and she took an extra alcohol wipe out of her pocket and wiped the earring down before placing it in her ear.

Lucas immediately knew what she was referencing and shook his head at her antics. “You’re so weird, Max Max,” he laughed.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Stalker,” she said, shooting him one last grin before hopping on her board and speeding away.

About halfway down the street and in the last little bit of light provided to them, Lucas saw Max throw her arm up in the air in a fist pump.

[ @freshxbloom ] [ @strange-thangs ] [ @maplestreet83 ] [ @martiegalwrites ]      [ @partwayhappy ] [ @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold ] [ @janeswheeler ]        [ @cstlebyrs ] [ @formerlyjannafaye ] [ @jane-el-hopper ] [ @themikewheelers ]    [ @elizabthturner ] [ @the-proud-princess ] [ @itcouldbendoritcouldbreak ]           [ @scottsclarke ] [ @the-most-beautiful-broom ] [ @hannahberrie ]                        [ @dancingskygreen ] [ @mileven-and-contemplation ] [ @eddieksgazebos ]        [ @mikeswheeler ] [ @jopper-chopper ] [ @earlgreyteagirl ] [ @mikeswheelers ]      [ @michael-hearteyes-wheeler ] [ @stevemossington ] [ @thezoomermax ]           [ @bubblynancy ] [ @mothersnail ] [ @writer-lia ]

[spaceorphan18]

TDB Rewatch: Michael

The middle of season three continues to be not that bad - if I focus on just being mindlessly entertained for forty minutes and don’t think about it that hard.  Like Rachel - I don’t really get the whole Michael Jackson thing, but that’s okay! For a tribute episode, this does very well, though it keeps the time honored tradition of having too much music and too little plot.  The music is nice, the covers are fine, and I don’t find myself egregiously irritated with the episode - even if the couple of things I do think are really wrong with it have to do with Kurt. 

Thoughts: 

You know what this episode had going for it? Barely any Will and no Sue.  

There really isn’t any big overall story - beside the whole ND v Warblers thing.  It’s just a lot of tiny plot threads that they pull on to fit with the music.  Which is fine.  It works, for the most part.  This episode is still mostly music. 

So, I suppose - let’s do this by song... 

Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’ - Ah, Blaine this overjoyed ball of sunshine.  I think the Mercedes and Santana upset that they didn’t do MJ and ND v Warblers both wanting to do MJ for Regionals is a weak tie in for doing MJ, but eh, it’s fine.  I mean - all these songs relate to different plots, so I can understand the general theme.  

There’s a lot of underlying Blaine backstory and development that could have been explored in this episode - his issues with the Warblers, why he’s hanging around Sebastian and telling him things, how he feels about having a slushie to his face, how he doesn’t feel like he fits in at McKinley still, stuff with Kurt -- but, you know, Darren had to be on Broadway and Finchel needed more screen time so.... 

Bad - I like this song in concept, and Santana and Blaine teaming up is actually pretty cool.  But this performance is dark, literally, as in I can’t see most of what’s going on.  It isn’t the best shot one.  

I genuinely like Santana in this episode - from her attitude being used at someone not in ND, her conversation with Kurt, and taping something to her underboob, I feel like /this/ is how they should have been using Santana more often. 

Scream - So, um, anyone wanna talk about Artie’s anger issues.  His little speech is 4th-wall breaking relevant, but in character it seems a little off.  But it doesn’t get picked up on so....  let’s chalk it up to the fact that it’s meant for this song.  Kevin McHale and Harry Shum Jr knock this song out of the park.  I really do not like listening to it, but -- it’s visually stunning, and a fantastic cover. 

Never Can Say Goodbye - Quinn’s voice is a bit weak on this one, but I do like this song for her.  And I like that they got her into Yale.  Congrats, no more irritating Quinn story lines!! (Mostly) 

While I’m rolling my eyes at more obligatory Faberry - I kind of question Rachel’s logic and reasoning here.  I’m going to go ask my bf’s ex if it’s okay if we get married.  I mean really??  I do agree with what Quinn has to say, though.  Both Finn and Rachel want to get married for /bad/ reasons.  And while Quinn is going the opposite way with it - mostly cause she’s realizing that she doesn’t have to have her whole life planned out, she is correct in that - they’re kids, and you don’t know what you want at 16.  

Human Nature - another song I’m not really that into - but Mercedes and Sam are lovely together.  And giving Mercedes a story line that’s not about competing with Rachel is always a plus.  She has a genuine conflict here.  

Ben - hey, it’s that one time they decided to sing about a rat to the gay pirate.  If you listen to the lyrics, the song does make sense, and they do sound nice on it.  Still -- why does Finchel need to be involved in this scene at all? Oh because Kurt needs to feel bad for getting a finalist letter because Rachel did not.  Oh god...  

Before I get into that, though.  Taking a step back from the Klaine issues - they don’t bother me too much.  I mean, Blaine does take that slushie for Kurt, and they are holding hands with each other.  But, yeah, when you examine it further, it is frustrating that they remain three feet apart while Finchel gets to make out in every scene they’re in.  Letting the gay couple be physical shouldn’t be an issue -- but alas, it was 2012, and it still was on prime time tv. 

Meanwhile - let’s talk about Kurt and his NYADA finalist -- which is a nice little scene with his dad, albeit slightly overwrought - but you know, this is soured by a) him having to emotionally prop up Rachel and b) the fact that he ultimately doesn’t get in.   Doing meta and the podcast has given me distance to not be as irritated, but I’m still epicly rolling my eyes. 

Smooth Criminal - Santana v Sebastian is brilliant, and this number is the best one in the show.  It’s actually rather dark and tense, tbh.  Also - 2Cellos - you go dudes. 

I Just Can’t Stop Loving You - Did this episode really need a Finchel duet? Really??  Long gone is the cutesy couple from season 1 - and now they’re talking about marriage proposals and both wanting to get married for very, very wrong reasons, and it’s just painful.  I say - make it stop, but we have 11 more episodes of this.  

Black or White - This is the song I listen to the most! I like it.  Also my massive love to Trent Warbler. 

However, I will never understand why they made Kurt give back the tape - other than the want Seb around ep 14.  But seriously, I side-eye the whole Kurt taking the higher road cause they need someone telling the morale of the story.  While I’m softer about season 3 on some levels - what they do with Kurt during this season, I am not. 

You’re a vegetable, I eat off you.  

[kpopfanfictrash]

Angel (V)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jackson

Rating: PG-13 (angst, depictions of chemotherapy / surgery)

Word Count: 4,479

Summary:  You’re a medical intern, always a perfectionist and used to being the best at everything you do. Jackson Wang is the male nurse beloved by everyone and constantly on your nerves. When you two are brought together, it could be the best or the worst thing that’s ever happened. (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @baebae-goodnight !) 

“Jackson,” you demand, waiting for him to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

Jackson looks your way. His eyes find yours, for only a second. “My dad just called,” he manages.

“Oh?” Unsure why, your heart starts to pound. “What about?”

“My mom.” Jackson can barely get out the words. His mouth tightens around them, and he swallows. “They found a lump in her breast. They’re doing a biopsy but Y/N,” he half-breaks, needing to look away. “They think she’s re-lapsed.”

You don’t know what to do.

The wind pulls at your hair, blowing it in different directions as you stare, struggling to come up with words. In medical school there are several classes you take, all designed to enhance empathy. Designed to teach bedside manner, the importance of communicating with your patient. It’s something you’ve been taught over and over, and you don’t know why it’s difficult now.

The idea, itself is odd. Logically, a patient should want a doctor who knows what they’re doing. The patient should want a doctor with the right statistics, the right answers, right schooling and right credentials. They should want the one who, ultimately, can cure them. In reality, patients want a doctor who makes them feel better.

To feel better doesn’t necessarily mean ‘to not be ill.’ Oftentimes it’s emotional, a quintessential calmness that comes from a person’s words or gestures. It comes from the idea that they care, because people who care try harder. All this, is a roundabout way of saying there are many phrases you use, to comfort patients.

You can tell them they’re strong. Tell them you’re here, that you’re sincere in your efforts. You can tell them their options, explain what they can do and what to expect. None of these seem relevant now, looking at Jackson. Jackson’s expression is crumpled, a man at a loss, and you know there are no words you can say to fill this void.

When he looks your way, he’s silent. Silent, but then he reaches out a hand. You accept it quietly, letting yourself be pulled into him. You’re exhausted. Tired from your shift and the events of the night but you find yourself feeling strong, in his arms. Not by choice, but because you must. You know what will happen now, what Jackson will go through – and in the coming months, he’ll need you to be the strong one.

Jackson doesn’t cry, though his body relaxes into yours. He softens, as though he’s letting go. It’s all too often, that he’s the solid one. All too often he’s the happy one, the bright one, the smiling and laughing nurse who makes others feel better. That’s the kind of person he’ll need to continue to be, for his mom, but with you – your arms tighten.

“I just,” Jackson inhales, breaking off, “didn’t expect him to say that, when I answered. I talked to her last night and she seemed fine. Maybe a little tired,” Jackson buries his face deeper, “a little off. She lost weight, was kind of nauseous – ah,” his arms tighten. “I should have known, I should have seen it.”

“No,” you exhale, shaking your head before pulling away. Jackson’s eyes are rimmed with red. “You’re her son, not her doctor.”

Jackson doesn’t respond at first. “I know.”

“When… will you know?” you ask, and he shakes his head – he’s not sure, when the biopsy results will come back.

“Probably sometime today,” he mumbles, pushing a hand through his hair. “It depends on what tests they run.”

You nod, because you understand. Looking at him, you stifle your yawn – you don’t mean to, truly you don’t. It’s just that today has been so long, you’re so tired. Jackson notices this, catching your hands with his own.

“Hey,” he bends. “Go home. Get sleep. I need to get to my shift, we can talk tonight – okay? When do you come in next?”

“Not until tomorrow morning,” you say, yawning again. “Go, go – we can talk tonight.”

“Okay,” Jackson straightens, glancing over your shoulder. “I’ll get through today, and then I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Okay,” you agree, lifting on tip-toes to kiss his cheek. “If you need anything, tell me and I’ll come.”

“Anything?” Jackson manages to smile. “Anything?”

“Barring certain violent crimes, yes.” When he groans at this, you poke his arm. “You want a slushie? Done. You need your laundry separated? I’m your girl. You need a recipe, some surgical technique researched, someone to drive your grandma to the airport? Hello, I’m here.”

Jackson laughs, though it disappears faster than it normally does. “I appreciate that,” he says, squeezing your hand. Then he turns around, hiking his messenger bag higher. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You watch him walk away. Jackson disappears through the doors to the hospital and you can’t help but shiver at the sight. It’s an odd part of being a doctor, the normalization of the place. For most of the world, a hospital is somewhere you visit and might not leave. It’s a place to be healed, but also one to die – and for some reason, this fact seems glaringly obvious right now.

Turning away, you walk across the parking lot. Shoving both hands in your pockets while crossing to your car, tugging on the handle until it opens. On the inside, you sit for a long moment. Hands gripped around the steering wheel before tossing your bag into the passenger seat. You lower your head to the leather wheel, taking a few deep breaths in and out.

It’s a lot – first Mr. Ronstein, now Jackson’s mother. Anger pushes at you from inside out, twisting your skin and bones with the pain. It’s not fair – it’s not fair that Mr. Ronstein is gone, that Jackson’s mother will have to go through this all over again. It’s not fair that Jackson is overworked, that he’s over-tired and still must deal with this. Then there’s you – it’s hard not to think about yourself, in all of this.

Perhaps that’s selfish but then, humans are selfish creatures. You only understand the world as it relates to you, through your own eyes and right now, you’re barely hanging on. You can barely deal with your own perfectionism and neuroticism – and to have to support another person on top of that? It’s a lot.

Just thinking this, makes you want to cry. You squeeze your eyes shut, convincing yourself not to. Whatever you do, crying won’t help. Taking another breath, you slowly lift your head. Monitoring your breathing, you wait until your vision clears, and then place your car in reverse. The drive home is long, silent since you forgot to turn on the radio. It’s only ten minutes to your apartment, but it may as well be ten hours.

When you pull into the parking space, you almost don’t recognize it. Staring dazedly at the curb before shaking your head and opening the door.

Your bed welcomes you, face-first. You barely make it there in time, tossing your keys on the counter and kicking your shoes in your closet. Half-stripping your body to fall, mostly clothed into bed. You sleep instantly, barely remembering your head hitting the pillow – it’s only your cell phone which wakes you, insistent and shrill.

Hand fumbling, you grasp for the device – lifting it to answer, “Hello?”

“It’s cancer,” Jackson breaks, barely able to speak. “It’s – she’s.”

You sit up. “I’m on my way.”

The new few weeks pass in a blur.

Jackson’s mom is put into chemotherapy. Normally for a re-lapse, the approach would immediately be a mastectomy. Jackson and his father are both insistent though – the less invasive, the better. Which means chemo first, hoping to shrink it enough to perform a lumpectomy. The doctor still prefers the latter – quietly, you agree – but Jackson is livid at the thought.

“Is he crazy,” he hisses, while you push him hastily out of the room. His mom and dad are still talking with the doctor – reviewing the side effects, talking about potential outcomes. They don’t need Jackson going off the wall, making this harder. “Really,” Jackson turns, halting when he sees how close to the wall he is. He exhales, slowly extending his fingertips, “is he actually crazy.”

You say nothing, as you wait for him to explain. Sometimes, it’s better to let someone talk themselves out of the pain.

“She’ll go through so much with a mastectomy,” Jackson groans, meeting your gaze. “She’ll lose a part of herself. It’s invasive, it’s a long recovery – my mom likes to do things. She likes hanging out with her friends, likes going on random road trips. She likes singing along to the radio, she…” he breaks off, shaking his head.

You reach out for him, taking his hand as Jackson stops talking. “I know,” you nod, searching his face, “she has options, though. Chemo is just as invasive, some say more so than the surgery.”

Jackson groans, before burying his face in his hands. “If they shrink the tumor though, it will be a less complicated surgery.” He quiets, then lowers his hands to look at you. “I know what the right answer is. I know what she should do – so why is it so hard, when it’s my mom?”

There’s no answer, besides the obvious. “Because you love her,” you say simply. “It’s pain she’ll feel, pain you’ll feel as well. It’s hard to make the right decision, when you’re hurting yourself.”

Jackson nods, then looks out the window. “I’ll step back.  Whatever she decides,” he says hollowly. His eyelids flutter. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you ask.

“For making me say this out here,” Jackson takes a step, wrapping his arms around you. His head finds the top of your head, “instead of in that room.”

“You’re welcome,” you mumble against his sweater – fingers connecting behind his back.

Jackson holds you that way, gathering strength before he’s ready to go in.

The second week of his mom’s chemo, it’s a difficult week at work. You mix up some paperwork, nearly miss the distribution of a patient’s pills and things only go down from there. You’re beaten, bruised and thoroughly convinced you can’t do this anymore. The only thing getting you through it all – the knowledge of why you’re doing this – becomes suddenly unclear.

You want to help. Want to be of use, but how can you, if you’re crap? If you’re not good enough to save people, if you mess up more than you succeed – how is that helping anyone? It seems unfair, to lay any of this on Jackson – so you don’t.

Instead you keep silent, pushing your worries deep inside yourself. Normally, you think Jackson would notice. Normally, he’d sense the distance and try to draw you out. This time though, he can’t. Right now his attention, his entire being is devoted to his mom.

You can’t begrudge him that – it’s who Jackson is. He gives his whole self, every bit of him – it’s what you love about him. Because through all this, that’s one thing you’ve realized. You love Jackson, you’ve fallen love though you haven’t told him. That’s a lot to reciprocate, and you don’t want to be a burden.

It’s during her final week of chemo, that Jackson rushes into the break room. He appears frazzled, hair askew and scrubs half-on. You see him enter and rise, hastily crossing the room. “Jackson,” you breath, scanning his face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He nods, grabbing your arm. “It’s my mom.”

Dread pools in your stomach. Those words are never followed by anything good – and Jackson takes a step closer, pushing you backwards into the on-call room. He shuts the door and you turn to face him, worried. “Yes?”

“One of the nurses is sick,” Jackson grimaces. “The flu, I think. I need to cover their shift, but my mom is about to go into chemo.” He pauses, shudders. “I don’t want her to be alone. I was wondering if maybe – if possibly –”

“Jackson,” you touch his arm. “Of course I’ll sit with your mom. I’m in between shifts, its fine.”

Jackson’s face drops in relief. “Oh, thank you,” he exhales, grabbing your face for a kiss. “Thank you, thank you, thank you – I owe you,’ he declares, throwing open the door – wagging a finger in your direction. “Sexual or not, I owe you big.”

You laugh, crossing your arms as the door falls shut behind him. Once you’re alone, you take a deep breath. You can do this – you can go to his mom’s chemotherapy, you can sit beside her. It’s not that you’re scared, exactly – you’ve met Jackson’s mom many times before. You’ve been in the same room, sat in on other treatments – but never like this. Never alone, never without Jackson. You’re always the one supporting Jackson, who in turn supports his mom.

To get ride of that barrier is intimidating. As you change out of your scrubs to pull on street clothes, you wonder what you should say. Wonder if you should think up talking points – then look in the mirror, smoothing your sweater lower. It would be weird, if you wore scrubs. Dressing like that enforces distance, makes it clear that you’re the doctor and they’re the patient. That’s not what today is about. Today is about friendship, not professionalism.

The oncology wing is all the way on the other side of the hospital, which means you’re almost late traveling to Jackson’s mom’s appointment. You arrive just as Mrs. Wang is being walked in, the on-call nurse checking her name, medicine and dosage before she settles in. This is one of the last appointments, before a decision on surgery is reached. Everything has gone remarkably well – Mrs. Wang’s tumor has shrunk, it’s in a more manageable location and overall, things are looking good.

When Mrs. Wang looks up and sees you, she smiles. “Y/N,” she sighs, lowering herself onto the bed. Bed is a loose term, it’s really more of a recliner. “Thank you for coming, but you needn’t stay.” She half-laughs at this. “Jackson worries too much – I’ll be fine, alone.”

Before now, you were frozen. Before now, you were unsure what to do with your words or speech or hands. Now you move, walking to the side of her bed and pulling out a chair. “ I know,” you declare, sitting. “I want to be here.”

She raises an eyebrow, but nods. “I see.”

The moment is interrupted by the nurse, returning to start the infusion. She begins the drip of medicine into Sophia’s IV before leaving, checking her vitals and exiting the room. Today the place is fairly quiet, just one or two people throughout – neither of them with visitors. You nod when the nurse leaves, already monitoring Mrs. Wang yourself. You check that everything looks textbook; that she’s safe, healthy.

“I have doctors, dear,” Mrs. Wang interrupts, though she smiles. “You don’t have to do that. Between you and Jackson,” she laughs – then winces, “I don’t know when I can ever have normal conversation.”

You offer a hesitant smile. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Wang,” you confess, shaking your head. “When I don’t know what to do with myself, sometimes I fall into the pattern that I know.”

“Don’t we all,” she murmurs, closing her eyes. “And please, call me Sophia.”

“Really?” you sound dubious. “That seems awfully informal.”

Sophia laughs. “You’re dating my son,” she counters. “It doesn’t get much more informal than that.”

Smiling to yourself, you fold your hands in your lap. “True.”

Opening one eyes, Sophia looks at you. “He cares deeply for you.”

“I,” you exhale, organizing your thoughts. “I care deeply for him, as well.”

She smiles. “You’ve been good to him. You are good for him, I don’t know if you know that.”

It’s hard, to control your blush. “Jackson is a wonderful person,” you respond, shaking your head. “I’m sure that, in no small part, is due to you.”

Sophia laughs, a happy sound. “Yes, he is – Jackson is sensitive, though. Most don’t think so, since he’s so bright and cheerful – but Jackson feels the world, deeply. He likes to be liked, likes to be seen – you seem to temper that, somehow.”

“Oh,” you frown. “I don’t like to think I’ve changed him.”

“Sometimes change is good. I don’t think he’s changed in a bad way,” she confesses. “Jackson just doesn’t try so hard, around you. He seems more like himself, more confident – though people always are, when they’re loved. You do love him,” she asks, curious, “don’t you? I’m not sure you’ve said it to each other yet, but from the way that you look at him…” she trails off.

Your cheeks must be tomato-red. “I – I do,” you confess, though when Sophia starts to smile, you hasten, “I haven’t told him. Haven’t wanted to well, put that on him.” Saying this out loud, you wince. It sounds so lame, so inadequate.

Sophia doesn’t seem offended, just thoughtful. “You think your love would be a burden?”

When she says it like this – so simply – it’s hard to think of an answer. You stare, for a moment. “I suppose,” you manage, “when you put it that way.”

Adjusting herself on the bed, Sophia smiles, “Life is short, Y/N. You don’t always get a second chance, so take the first one.”

She’s right. She is, and for a brief second you say nothing back. For a moment you’re silent, considering the reasons. The reasons why you continually block yourself from happiness, why you think it’s only appropriate to feel one emotion at a time. Even in tragedy, there can be light. That’s the beautiful part of humanity, it’s your favorite part of working in a hospital. It’s because of things like this, like Mr. Ronstein – so brave, when faced with fear. Because of small miracles, like that one car accident. The one where, against all odds, everyone pulled through. It’s because of the brightness – light, where there should only be dark.

Your love for Jackson is along those same lines. Just because he’s in pain, just because he’s busy doesn’t mean there isn’t room for you. It doesn’t mean you can’t be loved, in return. Looking back up at Sophia, you exhale. “You’re right,” you admit, ducking your head. “Thank you.”

It surprises you, when Sophia reaches for your hand. Her grip is strong, smile bright – much like her son. “Of course,” she nods, before closing her eyes.

The steady beep of the machine goes on.

It’s weeks later, her surgery is determined to be a mastectomy. Despite the chemo, despite how her tumor has shrunk – Sophia’s doctor still recommends the entire breast be removed. You know clinically speaking, this is the right call to make. It’s what was suggested, right from the start, especially given that this is a re-lapse.

Sophia agrees with the doctor, much to your surprise. You wonder if, she did the chemo more for her family than for her – if she knew they wanted the less invasive procedure, and humored him. It’s not what you would have done but then, not everyone is you. A mastectomy will give Sophia the greatest chance of survival, the greatest chance of defeating the disease – though it’s more painful, both emotionally and physically.

Sophia declares she wants it, though – and Jackson and her husband fall in line. Jackson was angry at first; though he softens, once he realizes it’s what she truly wants. He and his dad still fret, though. They insist on being there all throughout pre-op, assuring Sophia that they’ll be there as soon as she wakes up.

You’re there as well, mostly for Jackson – but also for Sophia, whom you’ve grown close to, as of late. Standing in the room with them, Jackson’s hand continually seeks yours. His arm half-slides around you, touching for reassurance, for the comfort you offer freely.

You still haven’t said, ‘I love you,’ but honestly, there just hasn’t been time. You’ve both been busy, working alternating shifts of night and day. Even when you’re not at the hospital, one of you is asleep or with Sophia. Any other free time is spent collapsed in front of a TV. It’s not the bad kind of silence, far from it – it’s just that life is hard, and you’re utterly exhausted.

The two of you talk, in the presence of Sophia. You talk a lot – sometimes too loud, sometimes over-bright, so when you return home, it’s nice to be quiet. Nice, to gather strength from the silence and presence of another. Jackson doesn’t say much to you, but you know when he’s worried. Know when he’s stressed, like he is now, with the weight of this surgery hanging over him. You don’t want to add to these worries, despite your talk with Sophia.

The surgery day dawns, bright and sunny – something which seems like it should be a good omen. It seems like it should, which is why you can’t shake the feeling that something will go wrong. Maybe it’s just pessimism, but pessimism on the whole is hard to shake. This surgery has a high success rate, Sophia is in otherwise good health – there’s no reason for anything to go wrong. Still, you think of Mr. Ronstein – think of all those one in one hundred cases that go wrong.

A mastectomy is typically around 2-3 hours long. Sophia’s should be of similar length, and when she’s wheeled out of pre-pp, the three of you go to wait in the lobby. The couches are hard, uncomfortable surfaces made for hard, uncomfortable decision and you settle onto one hesitantly. Today is a day both you and Jackson took off work. You made sure this happened, switched with three different people to ensure you have the entire day. Jackson needs you.

He lies with his head in your lap, saying nothing while you push fingertips through his hair. His gaze is tense, eyes fixed on the door before you. His father tries to read, but the pages shake in his hands. He says this helps, though, having something to do with his mind.

Two hours pass, then three. Jackson grows anxious, staring at the clock between glancing at the doors – you fight the urge to tell him a watching pot never boils. He knows this, so do you – but it does nothing to alleviate the worry.

“Why hasn’t she come out yet,” Jackson exhales, sitting up. He looks around, searching – then stands, rising stiffly from the couch.

“Jackson,” you sigh – before standing as well. It is odd, for things to take this long. You don’t want to admit it – you imagine, Jackson also does not – but it’s rare, for good news to follow a wait of this length.

Jackson reaches the receptionist first. He tries to smile, placing both palms flat upon the counter. “Hi,” he looks down at the woman. “I’m Jackson Wang; my mother, Sophia Wan, is a patient of –”

“Dr. Zimmerman,” the woman nods, glancing up. “I know. How can I help?”

“Well,” Jackson starts – then turns, as a pink-scrubbed nurse pushes open the doors to the lobby.

She looks tired, dark circles beneath her eyes while searching the room. When she sees Jackson, she exhales – walking briskly in your direction, still saying nothing. You recognize her, though you can’t recall her name. Sarah, maybe – the two of you have rarely had reason to interact, in the time that you’ve been here.

She comes to a stop, several feet away. “Hi,” she says, glancing around. “I’m Sandra. Jackson Wang, right? I need to speak with your father, as well.”

Jackson’s father joins and you blink, not having seen him move. Based on her words, it seems Sandra doesn’t know Jackson personally, just of him. Her gaze is tight, though sympathetic upon Jackson’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Mr. Wang’s hand finds Jackson’s. “What seems to be the matter?”

“The surgery is taking longer than expected,” Sandra confirms. “Sophia reacted poorly to the anesthesia, they had to try several different things to get it under control.”

“I,” Jackson inhales, eyes wide. “What do you mean, she reacted poorly? Is she okay? Is she having trouble breathing – did the surgery continue?”

“Jackson,” his father warns, nodding at Sandra to continue. “Go on.”

“The surgery is ongoing,” Sandra informs. “It will likely be another hour – the surgeon just wanted me to tell you why. I’m sorry,” she adds. “I wish I could be of more help, but that’s all they told me. I really have to go now,” she winces, looking at the clock. “I just stopped by in between patients.”

When Jackson nods, she turns – pushing open the doors and disappearing once more.

Jackson stares, hands shaking at his sides. You wind your fingers in his, pulling him gently to the couch while Mr. Wang follows. He sits on a chair jerkily, lowering his body before resting his face in his palms. Jackson remains still, staring at the spot where the nurse disappeared. Softly, you wrap your arms around his waist – mostly, because you can’t think of anything else to do.

“It was too easy,” Jackson chokes, the words soft. “Things were going too well.”

He looks defeated, broken – so you pull back to look at him. “No,” you declare, meeting his gaze. “You can’t think like that. Your mom can, and will pull through this. She’s strong, Jackson. You’re strong – even if you stop believing, I won’t. I’ve believe enough for you, me – this whole hospital.”

Jackson licks his lips, eyes red. Then lowers his head, burying his face in your neck. “Thank you,” he exhales, and you wait like that.

It’s another hour, before the second nurse enters. Another hour, before any new news – the second nurse walks out differently though, hope in her eyes.  She smiles, explaining that Sophia is fine – everything is fine. She underwent a complete mastectomy, unfortunately – her nipple was removed, in the process. You were hoping this could be avoided, but it appears this was not possible. The situation with her anesthesia was remedied, Sophia remained under the entire surgery. She’s waking up now, though she’s still groggy. You’ll be able to visit, soon.

Mr. Wang cries, upon hearing this. Jackson doesn’t break down – not yet – but he turns, wrapping his arms around his father. He holds him, as the older man cries into his shoulder. The sight is unexpected – before, you found them to be dissimilar. Not in a bad way, just that they were different. You though of Jackson’s father as stoic, silent – in direct opposition to his bubbly son. Now though, you see how similar they are.

Both are brave, both force themselves to seem strong – they hold on, until that moment when they no longer can. Until that moment when they no longer can, and the world comes crashing down around them. It’s only the way that they wear their masks, that’s different.

Jackson’s father goes to visit first – he exits alone and once gone, Jackson looks at you. “I don’t know what to say,” he admits, voice hoarse. He reaches for you subconsciously, pulling you closer. “You’ve given me so much,” he murmurs, speaking into your hair, “so much, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t,” you exhale, wrapping your arms tighter. “You don’t.”

[Master List]

[imagining-supernatural]

As It Seems: Chapter 16

Table of Contents

Según Parece: Lista De Contenidos

Summary: You and Dean head back home, have an actual talk about all of your options, and make a decision

Word Count: 3841

Warnings: Implied Smut

Beta’d by: @kclaire1

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

~~Dean’s POV~~

“Have we ever backed out without giving you notice? That’s right. I’ll look forward to seeing our name on the top of that list, just like normal. Thank you.” Y/N hung up the phone and took a deep breath to calm down. “I told you that your company would die without me. That was Janelle from the charity auction. She thought that since we hadn’t been in the office for the last three days that we decided not to be sponsors anymore.”

“What? We’ve sponsored that auction every year since I started the damn business.”

“Yeah.” Y/N leaned back and put her feet up on the dash as we sped through the land of South Dakota. “Well, next time you decide to whisk me away in the middle of the night, give me some warning so I can wrap up some loose ends before we go.”

Her reminder at why we’d left brought a touch of anxiety to my mood, but not as much as it should have. I knew that she could handle this kind of stress now, given that we’d been running for our lives every other day in the other timeline. “Speaking of… that agency I stole the USB from is still out there and, thanks to Crowley, they got a good look at my face.”

“They know where my apartment is too, and that you came to me.”

I glanced over at her sharply before returning my attention to the road. “What? How?”

“That guy that came to finish the job, the one that Sam killed? He wasn’t one of Crowley’s.”

Damn it. We needed to find some way to completely dismantle that organization. Well, that was the plan before, but now it was also for our safety along with the security of every financial institution in the United States. So we had to figure something out quickly. And until then, there would have to be several safety measures put in place for me and Y/N.

“Move in with me,” I suddenly blurted out.

I saw her surprised reaction from the corner of my eye and suddenly all of the anxiety from when I told her that I intended to marry her came rushing back and I hurried to justify my suggestion.

“They know your apartment. And I’m sure they know mine too, but mine is safer. I already have, like, three security systems in place. You can keep most of your stuff at your place if you want to have your own place to keep your independence or whatever will give you peace of mind, but I’d feel better if—”

“Okay.”

Just that one word shut me up and it was my turn to be surprised. “Okay? That’s it? No argument?”

“Yeah.”

My mouth worked on the next few words, opening and closing silently as I processed just how easy that had been. “You sure?”

Y/N laughed and reached over to ease my hand off the steering wheel so our joined hands were resting on the console between us. “I’m sure. We lived together in the other timeline. And moving in with you will make me feel like I’m not as much of that assistant who is sleeping with her boss here, and more like your actual girlfriend. And…” She sighed heavily. “And Sam showed me that I’m not really good at being alone, mentally or emotionally.”

I flashed back to the memory of walking into the bedroom and seeing Y/N and my brother sleeping on the couch. He’d filled me in later on what she’d said. If being alone was bad for her, then I could definitely take the challenge to make sure I was by her side.

“Good. That was easy.”

“I do know how to not be difficult every once in a while, you know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” The wink I threw her way showed that I was kidding.

Well, mostly. She’d been more stubborn and hard-headed this week than I’d ever seen her in either timeline.

Y/N took her hand back and returned to the task of answering the emails that had piled up in the last few days. It wasn’t long until her phone rang and she answered it with her usual, “You’ve got Y/N.”

I couldn’t hear the other person beyond a few garbled noises, but I assumed it was someone calling to get ahold of her for something related to my business, so I was prepared to tune them out. I hated doing work when I was driving. Sure, this wasn’t my Baby, but driving any car was when I could forget about the weight of my responsibilities for a while.

However, my attention was caught when Y/N relaxed back into the seat. That was not the position of a professional call.

“Carson! I’m glad you got my message. How’ve you been? Mmm-hmm… Yeah.” She laughed one of her carefree, casual laughs and I clenched my jaw. Logically, I knew I shouldn’t be jealous or worried. Y/N just agreed to move in with me. She wouldn’t make that decision lightly.

But when she was on the phone with her ex-boyfriend, laughing? Well, let’s just say that the steering wheel might be getting some finger shaped imprints.

“Well, it’s about time… No, I’m good… Yeah, for about a year now… Man, I wish. No, actually, Mr. Winchester is great to work for. In fact, speaking of work, we’re going to be headed your way for a charity auction in two weeks. I was hoping you could squeeze in a lunch or dinner and we could catch up…” She laughed again and I was tempted to grab the phone out of her hand and throw it out the window. “Not quite like that one. This time it’s my job to make sure no one gets drunk and accidentally buys an ugly-ass giraffe head sculpture… You do? Why would you keep something like that? Well, to each his own. Listen, I gotta go, but let me know about lunch or dinner, okay? I’ll check my schedule too.” After a minute more of sickening pleasantries, Y/N finally hung up.

“So, Ash is having you jump right in, huh?”

She sighed long-sufferingly. “You can say what’s really on your mind. You’re not pissed that I’m a part of your secret team. You’re pissed that I’m setting up a completely platonic date with my ex.”

“Now that you mention it, yeah. That bugs.”

“Well, stop it. Dean, I’m moving in with you. I’m your girlfriend. I’m only setting up this meeting so I can get a feel to see if Carson is part of the whole shenanigan to take down the banks. You have literally nothing to be jealous of.”

I snorted and gripped the steering wheel tighter. Sure, her words made sense. But emotions never listened to logic. “Yeah? Well, watch me.”

She didn’t reply to that. Instead, she went back to her phone, tapping her way through the few days’ worth of messages built up. I focused on driving and tried to turn my mind away from the image of Y/N across a table from that Carson idiot and toward the glorious moment when I would be behind the wheel of my precious car again. We were only two days from home, and if we drove through the night, we could make it in less than that.

“Hi there, this is Y/N Y/L/N. I was just calling to book a room for tonight. A suite, actually. Mmm-hmm.”

“What are you doing?” I hiss-whispered over at her. “We’re not stopping tonight.”

She covered the microphone and turned to me. “We’re not going to sleep. But I have to prove that you have nothing to be jealous of, and I once told you in the other timeline that the only car I would have sex in is yours. Well, it’s not here. And our apartments are both too far away. This hotel is only half an hour away.”

“You should have—” She should have what? Asked me? Not planned out a detour for us to have sex? Why in the world was I trying to argue this point? “Yeah. Okay.”

Her laughter filled the car when I accelerated, the needle on the speedometer climbing up past the Man, I hope there isn’t a cop around here zone.

“You are so easy,” she murmured before getting back to reserving the room. “Mmm-hmm. A suite would be great, thank you. Oh, and one more thing. Does the bed have a place to tie someone’s hands to the headboard?”

My head snapped over to her when I heard the shameless way she asked the question. She was already watching me with a half-smile and sparkling eyes. I couldn’t remember the conversation we’d just been having because I was suddenly thrown into memories of the dirty confessional underneath the bed in Garth’s RV. And now there were more memories crowding in from the other timeline as well that made me shift in my seat and press down harder on the gas pedal.

“Fantastic. See you soon.” She hung up and smirked over at me. “The Hyatt in the next town.”

I really hoped there weren’t any cops around.

*****

~Reader’s POV~

My phone’s ringtone brought me slowly into consciousness. It took me a while to figure out it was mine. When Ash cloned me phone, my settings hadn’t all transferred over which included my specialized ringtones. A glance at the screen told me that Addy was calling, and I quickly woke up. Usually when I heard her ringtone, I answered right away.

As quietly as I could, I pushed back the covers and slid out of the bed, trying not to move Dean’s leg that was thrown over mine, as I answered the phone in a hushed whisper.

“Hey sweetie, what’s going on?”

Once I was standing up and pulled on a robe, I did the mental timezone math and figured out that it was around three in the morning for her. Why was she calling me so early?

“Aunt Slushy?” Her voice wobbled.

“It’s me, Addy. What’s wrong?”

I settled into the couch in the sitting room portion of the hotel suite and focused all of my energies on the conversation at hand.

“I had a bad dream.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. Want to tell me about it?” Why would she go all the way downstairs and grab the emergency cell phone from the kitchen drawer that my brother kept for when she went on field trips or on a trip with a friend’s family to call me instead of climbing in bed with him like she usually did when nightmares came knocking?

“Not really. You’ll always be here, right? You won’t leave me.”

Timelines and memories of the other life flashed through my mind. “No, sweetie. I promise. I’m always just a phone call away.”

“Okay. I love you, Slushy.”

“I love you too, Addy. Why don’t you go climb in bed with daddy? He’s really good at chasing away bad dreams.”

“I don’t want to wake him up. He’s always in a bad mood when he comes home from work lately, so he needs his sleep.” Oh, bless this precious child. She was always so good at picking up on people’s moods and always thought about others first. “And Cindy has been coming around again.”

I barely held back a slew of curses. Cindy was Addy’s mom in this timeline. She left when Addy was only three months old and occasionally came back, begging for time with her daughter. But she wasn’t the kind of person you would want anywhere near any child. After she tried and failed to kidnap Addy a few years ago, we’d kept an extra close eye on Cindy whenever we found out where she was.

“You daddy won’t mind if you wake him up. He might actually sleep better if he knows that he’s chasing away your bad dream.” And if he knew that Cindy hadn’t managed to somehow kidnap his daughter.

“You think so?”

“I know so. Go wake him up and let me talk to him for a minute, okay?”

I listened to the soft pitter patter of her feet as she walked down the hallway to my brother’s room. “Daddy? Daddy, wake up.”

His sleep-ridden voice came through the phone. “Hi, baby girl. Did you have a bad dream again?”

“Mmm-hmm. Aunt Slushy wants to talk to you.”

“Alright. Come here and give me the phone.” I could picture Addy climbing into my brother’s arms and hoped that his comfort would help her relax and go back to sleep. “Y/N?”

“Hey dude. I’m gonna let you go back to sleep, but you better call me in the morning and let me know what’s going on. Addy says you’ve been stressed at work and Cindy’s sniffing around again?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Is that why she called you instead of waking me up tonight?”

“Mmm-hmm. So go back to sleep now, but let me know in the morning if you want me to come up this weekend and take Addy away for a few days. Give you some time to deal with Cindy.”

“Can you get that time off work so soon?”

I nearly laughed. Everything had changed so quickly. “I worked a lot this weekend, so D—Mr. Winchester kinda owes me.”

“Alright. Thanks, Y/N. Talk to you in a few hours.”

We hung up, but I didn’t make a move to go back to the room and go back to sleep. Beyond the added stress of Cindy’s reappearance, my mind was swirling with Addy’s words. What had she dreamed about that made her so anxious to ensure that I wouldn’t leave her? And why did I feel so unsettled when I promised I would stay?

After a minute more of trying to figure things out, I decided that I was far too tired to be thinking about this. I could deal with it in the light of day. But for now, I had a sleeping Dean Winchester in a warm bed.

“Who was’at?” Dean slurred sleepily when I slipped back into bed. So much for not waking him up.

“Addy.”

“Everything okay?”

Well, when he was holding me closely like he was, how could anything not be okay? “Not really. But you don’t have to worry about it. Just go to sleep.”

He nuzzled into my neck and pressed a light kiss just behind my ear. “You know, I’m going to be her uncle eventually. So really, I will have to worry about it soon enough.”

Whoa.

I’d been keeping the Addy part of my life and the Winchester part of my life separate for so long. Even in the other timeline. They were two parts of my life that never met. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that if I married Dean, the two would become completely intertwined.

Over here, at least.

In the other timeline, the two could never become intertwined.

“Hey, Dean?”

“You told me not to hold back, babe.” He defended himself quickly. “That’s just what I’m doing.”

“No, it’s not that.” Though now that I thought about it, that should have been part of it. I should have felt at least a touch of anxiety about Dean becoming Addy’s uncle. “I just…”

I rolled away a few inches and turned on the lamp by the bed. Dean wiped at his eyes and scooted up until he was halfway sitting against the headboard. “Oh. This is a light on kind of conversation.”

“Take me completely out of the equation. Say I’m willing to go back to the other timeline or stay in this one. Pretend I don’t care either way. Would you still want to stay here?”

“But you do care,” he said slowly. It wasn’t fair of me to spring this on him right after I’d woken him up in the middle of the night. But I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep until I’d had this conversation. Hell, I might not be able to go back to sleep even after we finished the conversation.

“Say I didn’t though.”

He squinted at me, trying to figure out where I was coming from.

“Look, I don’t want to go back. I’m not sure if I even can. But if Crowley’s right and the decision really does rest on my shoulders, then I need to at least give every option a chance. Sam seems pretty torn. And I’m not sure if you’re completely sold on staying here just because I am, or if it’s truly what you want.”

“Alright.” Dean sat up further, and I reached over the side of the bed to snag his shirt and pull it on. It seemed like we weren’t going to be going back to sleep soon. “Okay. I get where you’re coming from. Maybe we should look at both sides.”

“And without Crowley here, we might actually get somewhere.”

Dean chuckled. “Neither of us are very good at staying calm when he’s around.”

The room was quiet as both of us got lost in our thoughts. After a minute, Dean leaned back against the headboard and pulled me into his side.

“The other timeline does need us a lot more than this one,” he started thinking out loud. “But what can we really do? Make them sit down and talk it out? Kill the freaking Titans?”

“We would have a better chance than anyone else,” I contributed quietly. I hated that I was even thinking of reasons why we should go back.

Once again, silence fell.

If I didn’t take into account my personal life and feelings, then it was a no brainer. We should go back. But I couldn’t ignore those things either. When I told Dean that we couldn’t pick and choose the parts of our lives to consider when making decisions, that hadn’t just been me trying to get him to stop pushing for a relationship.

So besides the Titans in the other timeline, now I had to worry about Cindy and my brother’s stress levels in this timeline. Every time Cindy decided she wanted to pretend to be a mother for a while, I always ended up flying out and helping him keep her away from Addy. If I went back to the other timeline, who would do that for him?

“Do you think there are two versions of us?” I mused. “There are two Jodys, right? Two Alexes and Claires. They are alive in this timeline and in the other timeline. So if we did go back, would there also be another version of us who kept living our lives over here?”

“Then wouldn’t that other version of us be in the other timeline and there would be no need for this conversation?”

“God, I hate time travel shit,” I muttered. Sure, watching shows about it was fun because the writers created their own rules, so they stuck to them. But in the real world? Hell if we knew the rules. All that time travel really did was make one gigantic mess.

“To answer your question, though… I think I would want to stay here. My mom and dad are both alive and happy here. Sam has a real life. I have a pretty freaking awesome double life here. And I have you. And you have Addy. Everything I’ve ever wanted is here.”

That was the answer I wanted. But I knew that I couldn’t leave it at that. “So you’re saying that in a few weeks or months, you’ll be fine knowing that we left the other timeline in the hands of angry Titans?”

“Do you want me to convince you to go back?”

With a sigh, I curled closer into his side, wrapping an arm around his stomach and nudging my head under his chin. “No. I just want to make sure we don’t regret whatever decision we make. I don’t want us to take the easy way, or choose what we think will piss Crowley off.”

“Hey now,” Dean eased my head away from him until he was looking in my eyes. “Whatever we choose, which I think will be to stay here, for the record, we will be together. Promise me that. We’ll both end up in the same timeline, and we’ll stay together. As long as we have that, we can work through the regrets because we’re going to have some either way. That’s just what happens with big decisions like this.”

Promise me that.

It shocked me just how easily I wanted to promise him. After everything, and all the shit that I had to work through from the other timeline, I thought that it would take forever until I got into the position where I could promise him that. Where I could look at him and think of him as my future husband, the man that I was going to spent the rest of my life with. I thought that it would take ages for me to get over my self-loathing and accept that I was a good enough person to marry him and that I wouldn’t bring him down just by being involved with him.

But in the low-light of the lamp, I had no reservations. Come what may, this timeline or that timeline, I wanted to be with this man.

“Marry me, Dean,” I blurted out. His eyes widened and I offered a half-smile. “I know you said we could take things slow and work through our shit first, but I don’t want to work though anything without you. And we’re both legally alive here. We can get married. Then, either way we choose, we’ll be married.”

His eyes jumped over my face, taking in everything. “You’re serious.”

“I’m serious. I don’t wanna wait. We can be seen on a few dates in the next week or two for the benefit of the press, Skype with our families, but then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a super big thing. Take a few weeks to plan, then… be married for the rest of our lives.”

It seemed like an hour passed while he just stared at me. I let him process and waited for his reaction. Would he be all for it or would he think I was jumping into this too quickly with all of my baggage that I had yet to work through?

Slowly, a smile tweaked at the corner of his lips. “We’re gonna do this, aren’t we? We’re gonna get married. For real.”

“Dress, rings, families, I Do, and all.” My smile grew along with his and a bubble of excitement rose in my chest. In the back of my mind, I waited for the inevitable heavy brick of doubt and self-loathing to crush it, but when the moment stretched on and I felt nothing but giddiness, I figured I was good for a while. I could enjoy this moment.

I was going to marry Dean Winchester.

NEXT CHAPTER

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[sanerontheinside]

y’all, i dunno... I thought I posted this shit before but I guess not anyway at some point I probably mentioned writing fanfic about my friend group from college  I can’t find that particular post tho which is probably for the better but I’m also an idiot who’s gonna post it now under a cut for, idk, shits and giggles. 

also, icky ricky is, legit, what they named the bathtub. he’s not a real actual person. that doesn’t change the fact that the spider who lived in Sangini’s room was Ricky’s pet. 

the worst part of this is none of the names have been changed yet and Alex=saner so spoiler alert I die real fast. blink and you’ll miss it. 

When the girls moved into their apartment that year, they joked about the bathroom looking like a murder scene. And it did: they assumed it was just rust staining the bathtub, and anyway their apartment complex had been on the short end of the list for renovations last year. Meredith was the first to move in. By the time the others had arrived she’d caulked and cleaned the bathroom, and given it a fresh coat of paint. All the while, as she was there alone, she kept hearing odd stirrings in the apartment - was it infested with mice as well? But she wasn't the type to get creeped out by murder scenes and odd noises in empty apartments, and decided the neighbours were doing the stirring. It was more logical than the reality, really.

It was when all four girls had finally settled in that things got a little bizarre. Everything seemed pretty alright at first. Noises were blamed on the neighbours. The bathroom - well, for all its faults, it was largely in working condition. But the lighter sleepers could tell you that apart from the drunk neighbours upstairs and the apartment assistant next door throwing loud-ass parties, the scuffling got louder at night. And it moved around. And sometimes - sometimes - the toilet flushed itself.

Sometimes it flushed itself during the day, too. Not that this wasn't a thing toilets did, as their friends assured them. It wasn't something you could call Housing about. Eventually you got used to it.

The bathtub, too, was something of a mystery. It happened that a couple weeks into the semester, it stopped draining. The girls called Housing Services, who sent a lady to give it a onceover. The lady assessed the situation, attempted to fix it, but was ultimately unsuccessful. The next day another guy came, but the tub, probably deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble, was by then draining just fine. It periodically had bouts of stagnation thereafter, but they didn’t seem to last very long.

Nobody thought much of the scuffling, or the random flushing, or the moody bathtub, or of the neighbours (nobody ever thinks much of their neighbours anyway) until the day that - until the night that - until the morning that Sangini blearily wandered out of her shared room with Khushbu and over to the refrigerator. The apartment upstairs was alive with staggering horses freshly drunk from some frat bar, the apartment next door had a spectacularly destructive sound system - so far as headaches go, a real menace. Not to say, sensitive heads, belonging to Comp-Sci majors who code by night, sleep by day, write essays by the crimson-gold of sundown. And so: at four in the morning a rather disoriented CompSci major with a pulsing head and a late-night gnawing stomach shuffled over to the refrigerator, stood in front of its dimmed light for a moment, staring at the packed inside, and reached over for the milk.

Her hand stopped a little short of it. She considered the situation, wondering just what was so odd about it. Sangini turned to the living room carefully and peered across it at the half-curtained window with a perplexed look on her face, then looked back at the refrigerator.

If there was no one in the living room, why had the refrigerator door been wide open? She hadn't opened it. In fact, if not for the little bit of light that snaked its way out of the the vegetables and boxes and eggs and bottles and things, she would probably have tripped halfway across the hall.

"Meredith?" She was certain that she'd left Khushbu asleep in the room, and aware that Meredith generally clocked out at ten or eleven and revived at five for a morning jog. "Neha?" Also unlikely. Two in the morning - maybe. But, four?

Whoever it was, they'd been here moments ago, since the refrigerator light was still on. Sangini shuddered, shook her head, and decided she'd opened the door herself. Milk, cereal, bowl, crunch.

Thump.

Okay - Sangini didn't have anything to do with that thump. She paused over her next spoonful, slowly raised her head, and peered into the darkness. "Uh, hello?" she asked the room at large. There was no answer.

Light. Yes - light would be nice. Right now it was dark outside and the blueish moon was doing its best to round the corners of the Richardson Apartments, but the complexes were packed together with the occasional tree in between, and the moon wasn't getting anywhere - the struggle was too damn real. Sangini cautiously walked over to the door, hit the light switch with a lightning jab, poised defensively at the rest of the seemingly empty living room. But there was no one there.

Sufficiently creeped out, she picked up her bowl and spoon and withdrew the heck from the living room. Whatever was digging through their packed refrigerator, it could have at it. Would be nice if some of the food in there got unloaded.

The next day was largely uneventful, in terms of scuffles. Khushbu had a co-op, and a moderately heavy day of classes. Sangini, as usual, slept in, then headed off to class herself. Neha shared certain classes with Khushbu and preferred to study at the library. Meredith, after her morning jog, also came back to the apartment only briefly. And Sangini happily forgot about the creepy thing.

Nature took its revenge on the close-packed campus in the winter, triumphed in spring, waxed vengefully hot in the summer, celebrated its victory over Rutgers humans anew in autumn. Now, after spring break, the weather was a bit more cheerful, and the ice was gradually receding as Nature entered its refractory period after pounding the natives with cold, wet, slushy dirty squelchiness, and decided it liked nice weather after all. It was the perfect week to celebrate Neha's birthday, and that evening the group got together at Henry's, the diner on Livi.

At least three separate conversations meandered all over the table of approximately ten people. Neha ordered a caramel coffee straight away, and set about weighing the vegetarian options on the menu - a limited number, but a pretty decent selection. Neha Sikka - not Sangini's apartment mate - was doing sugar shots in the corner by the window next to Ian, who was encouraging her. Sangini and Ben and Kriti were warring over pasta choices. Alex suggested coffee flavours and dessert choices, and punched Ben in the shoulder whenever he said something she didn’t like. Sanjana and Ashwini pored over the menu in search of something they hadn't tried yet. Bethann looked for someone with whom to split the Bruschetta, and was trying to convince Khushbu at the moment. Pooja, who lived on Cook-Doug and whom they almost never saw, joined them about twenty minutes into the meal. Aditya ordered quickly and went back to discussing comics and computers with Ben. Jeff ‘the Ninja-Crow’ presided silently by the windows.

Eventually Alex started talking about that time she couldn’t fall asleep for half the night, heard something clanging in the suite that sounded a lot like the heater was broken. She’d come out and found Sam cutting up a kiwi over the sinks. Sangini instantly remembered the creepy thing.

“Guys-guys-guys-guys!” she hissed excitedly down the table.

Ben answered with his predictable ‘What!’ [-do you want from my life-, unspoken], Alex immediately devoted her attention entirely to her salmon, Neha and Kriti were busily splitting and sharing their dishes. Really, trying to get everyone’s attention was more than a bit like herding cats. “Guys, I think there was someone in our apartment last night. At, like, four in the morning.”

“Ben, did you sleep there?” Alex asked quietly.

“No.”

“Did Matt sleep there?”

Sangini shook her head. “Nobody slept over.”

Alex wasn’t giving up. “Jeff, did you come in through the window?”

“Nope.”

Alex shrugged. “Honestly, your bathroom flushes itself, your bathtub plays games with you, and you think there is someone in your apartment at four in the morning. Maybe it’s haunted.” Not that she believed in ghosts. Although, she seemed to entertain the idea of friendly, mischievous spirit-gremlin-type thingies.

“Yeah!” Ben half-shouted, and returned to his previous conversation.

Sangini persisted: “No, but I’m serious, I’m pretty sure I heard breathing in the living room. And the fridge was open before I got to it. Alex? Come stay with us?”

“Overnight? I can’t, I have a long day tomorrow. But I can go back with you guys.”

Alex wasn’t particularly afraid of ghosts, and it was nice to think that if there was a ghost, she could beat it up and scare it back to the Netherworld. Almost in jest, she took the precaution of enlisting Khushbu’s help, however.

But when they all got back to Richardson, they opened the door to a pretty bizarre sight.

He'd been coming out of the bathroom - they could still hear the toilet flushing - and hadn't had enough time to duck into Meredith's room. Sangini had immediately pushed Alex to the head of the crowd, between herself and the intruder.

"Uh," he said. "Uh, hi," he thought to add.

"And who are you, exactly?" Ben supplied, as Alex still seemed to be running through swear words un her head so that she didn't say them aloud.

“Nobody,” he mumbled.

“Got a name?” Alex drawled, having finally hit on the part of her brain that didn't require a censor.

"Uh," he said, "yeah. Rick. Name's Ricky."

"Ricky," Ben repeated flatly. He nodded. "So, what’re you - how did you get in?" The man just stared back.

"Were you here last night?" Sangini called out finally.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, the guys let me live here last year, I sorta don't have a place to go, so -"

It was the first coherent sentence he'd spoken, and it got away from him by the end, but at least he spoke. Alex walked forward to a chair - Ricky shrank back as she did so.

"So you've been living here since last year?" Ben asked, as everyone followed Alex's example and filed into the room.

"Yeah. I lost my job, and, uh - well I used to be a plumber here, so..."

"What, have you been living in walls?" Neha asked in disbelief. Snark popped out of her when she was nervous or worried.

"Under the couch. Sometimes the beds. Depends."

They all jumped as the buzzer rattled in the ensuing silence. "Somebody has to let Ashwini in," Khushbu said quietly.

"Uh, should we?" Jeff asked.

"Would it change anything?" Neha pointed out. "We're all freaked out anyway."

So Khushbu ran out to let Ashwini into Richardson. Ashwini pointed out, in a timely fashion, that Khushbu was looking more worried than usual, which of course only flustered Khushbu more. Ashwini was finally getting around to asking her what was wrong as they walked through the door. She stopped dead at the sight of Ricky, who was grinning a somewhat nauseated grin. The poor guy honestly looked terrified.

“What the hell?” Ashwini stuttered out a breathy, nervous laugh.

“‘Shweens! This is Ricky. Ricky, this is ‘Shwini.” Sangini made the introductions, for all the world like this sort of thing happened every day.

‘Shwini, as usual, didn't miss a beat. “I thought you named your tub that.”

There was an awkward pause. Ricky, thankfully, didn't notice. And anyway, Alex immediately distracted him with a very enthusiastic - “Hey, you gotta show me how you hide!”

Ricky blinked. “Uh, okay.”

Alex was suddenly excited and jumped up. “Seriously, there's no space here, I want to know how you do it.”

Ricky stared at her looking a little shelled, said “okay” again, and turned around and walked back down the hall into Sangini’s room. Alex darted after him, grinning madly, while everyone else tried to explain - badly - what the heck that was about to Shwini.

By the time Alex got to the room, though, she’d nearly lost Ricky in the dark. He hadn’t turned on the lights, not in the hall and not in the room, and Alex pretty much blocked the better part of the dim light from the hall.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Ricky asked, awkward as before. “I mean like… not everybody wants to go through walls ‘n stuff.”

Alex laughed. “You kidding? I’ve always wanted to walk through walls.”

Ricky brightened. “Oh, yeah? Cool. This way, here - see? This part of the wall kinda feels funny, like it’s buzzing, yeah?” He ducked over to the window at the head of Sangini’s bed and put his hand beside the frame.  

Alex pressed her hand against the cinderblock gently. “Yeah, sure. So you just… go through?”

Ricky nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay then.”

Ashwini was not to be distracted, and not really one to be unnecessarily polite. “So who was that creepy dude?”

Ben perked up from across the room. “Who, me?”

“No, Jeffrey,” Ashwini deadpanned back at him. “Why is there a creepy guy in Sangini’s room?”

“He’s the creepy bathtub,” Ian clarified, though it offered absolutely no clarity.

“Come on, guys, I’m serious!”

Ben shrugged. “Hey, where’s Alex?”

“Alex?” Sangini turned and called down the hall. “You guys coming back?”

Alex wandered out of the room, looking pretty cheerful. “Nah, Ricky bailed. Said he saw a guy coming over whom he didn’t like.”

Someone buzzed the door again. “Oh, I think that’s Matt!” Sangini exclaimed, completely missing the sudden hush as she twisted around and booked it for the door.

Alex snickered. “No situational awareness, that one,” she sighed, as the door shut.

“Yeah!” Ben shouted, and went back to playing Cards Against Humanity against Aditya, Pooja, and both Nehas.

personally, the highlight of my night that year was the ddos attack on Rutgers, probably the first of three, which was eventually determined to be caused by bots based in Russia, and why they picked RuTGeRs UniVerSIty of all places is still a fucking mystery my dudes. 

Then they lost the Internet.

Alex had been relaxing, quietly writing her fiction, discussing something with Ben. The conversation could have been mildly disturbing for the uninitiated.

The moment the Internet blipped out, she scowled and asked what was going on.

"Apparently a disgruntled student has launched a DDoS attack," Jeff remarked flatly.

"Wait, for real? Shit," Alex muttered. "Dunno about disgruntled students, but this clown is disgruntling me and my not-yet-downloaded thermo hw and practice problems."

“Yeah - meanwhile, you’re writing fiction,” Ben smirked. Instead of hitting him for pointing out the obvious, though, Alex shrugged.

"Yeah - no, guys, that may not be true," Sangini interjected quickly.

"Well if it is true, if I fail this midterm, and if I find this joker, I will tear out his throat in a most disgruntled manner," Alex said lightly, as if commenting on the weather.

Aditya had been keeping tabs on emails from the university's tech office and soon discovered a Twitter account that claimed to be the hacker.

[officialdeadblog]

“You always wear black”, a friend once said. “It’s like you’re constantly in mourning”. She, my friend, was joking. But like any good joke, there was truth in it. Those grainy verses by Johnny Cash come to mind, “I wear black for the poor and the beaten down, living in the hopeless…for the sick and lonely, for the lives that could have been….”. I don’t remember when I first started wearing black, but it must have coincided with the touching down of rock music in my life. My childhood friend David and I used to loiter behind our elementary school, with our skateboards and our headphones, and talk about how we wouldn’t live past sixteen years old. We were too young to be romantic about death, barely pre-teens. And it would still be years before I’d discover Kurt Cobain, Shannon Hoon, and even many more years till I’d discover guys like Jeff Buckley; men turned gods, lives turned legend, immortal mysteries scrawled across the history of rock music and the pages of SPIN Magazine and Chuck Klosterman books like Fargo Rock City. At any rate, I don’t know if we understood death fully, but we had a feeling about life anyway. We were sad kids. Or, at least I was. But, I think David was too. We were sad but it wasn’t all of who we were, even though sometimes I think we feared that it could be. The first time I heard Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness was behind that school, thanks to my friend Dave. He even had Billy Corgan’s black “Zero” shirt from the Bullet with Butterfly Wings video and we both thought that was so fucking cool. Zero. How could one word say so much? It was around that time that we started a band, my first band, I was 9, maybe 10 years old. I don’t know who’s idea it was, it just happened, like it was the logical next step for kids like us. Did we even have a name? We played one talent show and wrote one original song called “Ode To No One.” It really was an original song, even though we had ripped the title from the Pumpkins. Those days of first guitars, blue slushy tongues and perfecting ollies were great and sad and slow. They seemed to go on for forever, though we knew that they couldn’t. Ultimately, my elementary school only went as far as Grade 6 and while David and I kept in touch through middle school, we inevitably were set adrift from one another. In Highschool, I only became more apathetic and seemingly disillusioned about the ‘state of content’ of most people. Everything was so fucked up. And to my point, there existed a whole world of palpable discontent in rock music, where no one was playing along. Rock music was proof that there was life outside of wherever I was. It wasn’t about escaping the hurt, it was about feeling it. I lived past sixteen, it just kinda happened (obviously there’s more to it than that, but looking back, sometimes I can’t help but feel that way). I would run into my old friend David on and off throughout our teen years, he was still brilliant and alive, and he had his own band called The Diamond Teeth. I had my own band too. And ever so periodically, there were others. In middle school, there was a school counsellor, who also was an artist. I knew we were the same, because he wore black every day too. He also wore a black leather jacket, I recognized it from the sleeve of Rocket to Russia by The Ramones, but it was the first time I had seen someone wear one in real life. It was around that time that I got my first leather jacket and I think maybe even my first Les Paul (which was a knock off of a knock off). In Highschool, I managed to re-connect for one year with some kids from grade school who were a year older than me. We all wore black, it wasn’t planned, we hadn’t seen each other in three years, we all just showed up that way. There’s a line in High Fidelity that goes, “what really matters is what you like, not what you are like… books, records, films, these things matter.” I don’t think we believed that all the way through, but we all had chronological / alphabetized record collections, and it seemed like someone always had a copy of a Kurt Vonnegut book on hand. And that day that Layne Staley died was rough. None of us knew Layne, but I think we all felt like we did. I grieved similarly, recently, for the death of Chris Cornell. This isn’t about the swirling speculation or the rumours. But like death does, the news gave me pause. It reminded me of my own challenges, and the challenges of other kids I’ve met along the way. I think in the rock community, we rarely consider where everyone has come from, or how far it’s taken any of us to get to wherever we are. Sometimes it feels like we’re too busy reminding everyone that we don’t care what anyone thinks, which is great. But, for the gentle flickering of a lyric from the wick of hopelessness. The voices, reminiscent of a lonely howl. And the rage. The protest. The grit burnout endurance. The scrappiness. The desire for sense, or sometimes just for something more. Who knew three minutes and forty-five seconds could ache so much? Bono once said, “pop music often tells you everything is okay, while rock music tells you that it’s not okay, but you can change it.” I think we all sense this otherwise, what are we doing here? The rock community has born thousands of songs, of an alarming range, from Testify to Disarm. The kids in black, who knew you had so much potential? Who knew you were made with so much purpose? And beauty? Who knew that you are loved? Did you know? Do you know that these things are true? As an adult, one of my favourite places to be is in a room full of other kids dressed in black. Chris was one of those wonderful kids. I am one of those kids. If you’re reading this, you’re probably one of those kids too and I’m glad that you’re here. In the midst of all our not caring about what anyone thinks, I hope you hear that you’re cared for. The dearest kids in black, sometimes it’s a lonely place to be. But it doesn’t have to be. Galations 6:2 says “carry each others burdens”. We don’t wear black solely for ourselves, we wear it for others too, and you can trust that for all of your darkest hours that I am wearing black for you. I wonder what it would look like if we lived this out together in a conscious way. Because the prophetic Cash still rings true, “I’d love to wear a rainbow every day, and tell the world that everything’s okay. But I’ll try to carry off a little darkness on my back, till things are brighter, I’m the man in black.” In loving inspiration of Chris Cornell, - Frankie

[bornfromscarletcords]

City Of Sparks (Or) A Miracle’s Monopoly

I once heard that in any work of writing one should start with one true sentence. Well my sentence starts with the following “this is going to be hard”. Consider that much of reality is governed by the most subtle yet potent consumptions of energy. Entertain the idea that one could in theory see a person’s whole life, hopes, and perhaps even soul simply by touching them. That contact could merge two things without either losing their core essence. Now imagine that since the beginning or perhaps end of time their have been creatures waiting, and growing by using these tiny yet brilliant flashes of energy as their source of evolution and change. A sliver from the source of a piece of candy would circulate the source of all sweetness through them without corrupting them or thwarting their path of destiny. With this said I will introduce you to a world, well, a city, forged from and consisting entirely of walking, talking, breathing miracles.

First up is, Ms. Theatre, and if you want to spot her, the simplest way is to look for the lady in green with eyes like emeralds. She has wild dark hair and smoky cinnamon skin, and maybe like a beauty mark on her cheek or something. Her waist is also said to be pleasing with sultry curves. She runs the cinamaplex; the movie theatre. Her usual garb is an admittedly fashionable mix of employee and owner garb/uniform, though typically she goes for some type of sweater, over dress shirt, skirt and high heel combination. She has a lot of power and is pretty entertaining as long as you’re willing to put the time in to understand that she is a predator first. You could say she’s more like nature, very survival of the fittest, but a worthy challenger, an interesting rival, or a close friend are like a warm bed and campfire to her. She kind of smells and tastes like candy, popcorn, pretzels, any number of sodas, slushies, nachos, hotdogs and well, you kinda see where I’m going. She can be condescending, and naive in a way you wouldn’t expect given her intuitiveness, but she is charming and she knows of the essence of need and yearning.  

Next to bat would be Ms. Restaurant, who has sapphire eyes for the sky blue of her chef and waitress uniforms. Her hair is long and blonde like a  daisy’s or starlight. She is sweet and wise, though a bit lonely. Her skin is peachy and pale. She is crafty but in a helpful way though if angered or corrupted you’d best run for the hills because she’s your worst nightmare walking. Generally she has good advice and understanding of compassion and hope. She smells and tastes like steaks, quesadillas, tacos, sweet or savory soda pop, milkshakes, desert, waffles, omelettes, blueberry syrup, afternoon sandwiches, orange juice, crazy drinks, and honeyed beer along with other restaurant flavors. She has large...personality...and breasts. You need a lot of patience, and poise to understand and effectively interact with her, like being a dog and having to take after a bunny, except the bunny’s magic and could blow up the entire world if snuck up on or disappointed.  Surprisingly tough despite some initial or more immediate assumptions.

Finally for our main crew of ladies, would be Ms. Home. You’d know her as the lady in red, either for her preference of the color in her outfits, or because of her blazing scarlet hair. Like an inferno those fibers are. Her eyes don’t seem to be able to decide whether they’re green or blue so they’re a little in between, one of each. She has freckles and skin like moonlight. She is courageous, and prone to accuracy; what I mean to say is she’s a bit of an over achiever, but in a very likeable way. She is friendly and though she can be a little headstrong she is very loyal. She sorta smells, sorta tastes like delivered pizza, chinese food, groceries, microwaved burritos, emergency chocolate, hidden chips, leftover spaghetti, tap water, juice boxes, handmade lunches both simple and extravagant, tasty and… in need of some improvement, and other home like flare. She lets you feel okay leaving a bit of yourself behind if you need to rest or be a little different for awhile. A very comforting person or inspiring person.

If you’re wondering whether those are their real names or not, well than the answer would be yes and no. They do go by those monikers but with people like these you sort of have to embrace the fact that their are visible or tangible ways of calling/identifying a person, and invisible or intangible ways. Some people have a song you can play to let them know you need them, some people have certain rituals like dances, other people you just sort of know how to bump into. Suffice to say they have nicknames and more personal denominations for themselves but those are usually reserved for their closest companions.

Ah, yes, well here’s the awkward part, there is another consistent member of this strange city, it would be me. You may call me Mr. Arcade, and I’m pretty well known for my eyes like imperial purple, and my, what you might call, aura of similar hue. I tend to wear suits, heavy coats, and or customized armor based on my favorite in game characters. All of these clothes are resistant to any number of weapons and powers (I can’t take any chances with these women).  I’ve been described as magnificent, brilliant, and fun. I’ve also been described as possibly sadistic, unusually perverse, and entirely enticing. If there’s a game out there, either I know it, have it, or I am it. And those extremely scary and likeable girls are always welcome in my territory, well, Theatre may have to wait a little so I can make sure she isn’t planning on trying to eat me or something. Speaking of eating, I’ve been told I sort of smell/taste like simple yet satisfying premade food, vending machine snacks, appetizers people eat like meals, candy, soda, and energy drinks. In many ways I’m kinda a jack of all trades, as outside of my preferred mode of bearing, I occasionally open a bar when their more adult tastes, and I in turn get a more alcoholic flavoring. I’m also the city mechanic. Ms. Theatre could have done it, but it is probably too below her, and Ms. Home just has even more aptitude for it but I suppose you could say, a different stylistic approach to things. As city mechanic my job is to make sure that everyone is feeling healthy and that they are communicating so that we would know if they needed help before the “I’m going to unleash an atomic bomb” feeling starts kicking in...or something. Basically I make sure they are functional, able to change if they need or want to, and that they know how not to change if they need to. It’s a little tricky but worthwhile, though not extravagant enough for me to change my name to Mr. wrenches.

I suppose there is one more member of the community worth mentioning, though she wasn’t one of the more consistent survivors like us four. You could say she’s something of an inevitability considering our temperaments, and environmental destinies. Almost like a critical response event triggered by the world as it sort of takes account of it’s necessities and treasured joys. You could call her Ms. Casino, and she’s about as gold as a fire is hot. As far as physical appearances go, she has Ms. Home’s dimensions or structure, but with dark skin like Ms. Theatre, and Ms. Restaurant’s blonde, well gold hair, though hers are much curlier. She likes power suits, and enterprise. When she wants something from you or wants to make a quality impression before you catch on to her nonsense she acts sort of like Ms. Restaurant, and maybe she actually believes she’s sweet and wise. She’s definitely clever, but clever people don’t always know how to actually help others let alone themselves. She has Ms Theatre, somewhat sharkish instincts or perhaps, snakish might be more accurate. She’s not unlike a dozing lioness or wierd bear woman. She’s generally tempting though her pleasures can often make one feel lesser or hollow if precautions are not taken. She has freckles and eyes like bursting suns. She is a mighty creature that much is for sure, and on her own she could give each of us a run for our money, though if we stood together she probably wouldn’t stand a chance. Ms. Theatre would see her tricks a mile away, but she’d also be likely to team up with her, and if she didn’t, deciding to fight her instead, she’d have to sort of barrell through one trap after another. Ms. Restaurant could stay off her raydar and though she may not see some of her deceptions, most likely because she would have little interest in the logic, if she found out she’d been wrong, she’d thrash her, though most likely she too would have to sort limp her way through any number of traps. Ms. Home could both see her coming, and be able to quietly creep around or disarm her machinations though she might have some trouble if couldn’t end things quickly and in silence. I could beat her, but I’d either do it by accident, by going into super evil badman mode, or by being extremely loyal. The latter pertaining to the fact that as much as she is sort of an anomaly amongst anomalies, she is still our clan member if you want to call it that. She tastes and smells like desires, insecurities, vices like cigarettes, gum, liquor both cheap and expensive, overpriced food, despair, manic hope, bloody metals, nervous sweat, excited sweat, betrayal, invincibility,  mysterious and miraculous fortunes, and sweet need, strange change. She’s duped us a couple of times, once sort of gaining ownership of the city’s deed, which allowed her to convince all of us we were her employees for eternity and beyond, so our territories sort of became weirdly twisted extensions of her own, and I had to wear a common lackey’s vest...yuck. Ms. Home got us out of that one because she remembered she had no real place there. Outside of that, whenever she appears I offer to keep her tuned and healthy like any other members of the city, though she often mistakes my knowledge of machinery to translate into me being her servant. I suppose you could say, under a watchful eye and a general awareness of her deeper concerns as a person and a force nature she’s not entirely terrible to be around.