#and probably pretend i was so much cooler than for being like a year older lol. or wait no. two. right

[fappellmoan]

proof we were fated to know each other. how was miranda I was supposed to go but she cancelled the concert bc she sprained her ankle or some shit

😭😭😭 oh literally that’s sooo…. first of all come on miranda 🙄 i don’t remember how my mom got the tickets but it ended up being me her and my sister. and i remember going to a little italian restaurant afterward like it was a special night. sorry not to brag 😳 and ik my one cousin was there as well (of course this was a huge event for young girls) and stood outside to meet her and got a high five apparently. said the classic (im never washing my hand!) and high fived me so i had like meeting cooties idfk. anyway<3 literally we should’ve been chillin 😭😭

[mayhemchicken-varneyposting]

Varney the Vampire, Chapter 5: My God, He's...Unfashionable!

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After learning some troubling new facts about vampires, Henry sits around dissociating for 15 minutes before being interrupted by George, who's brought him a mysterious letter from one Sir Francis Varney. Varney is his neighbor, who recently moved into the neighborhood and wants to be friends, but apparently not enough to get the family's name right. Henry and George are introverts and don't want to be this guy's friend, so they resolve to ignore him and hope he goes away.

The full moon rises, and the brothers and Marchdale gather in Flora's room to keep watch while she sleeps. Marchdale suddenly remembers that he tore the vampire's clothes while chasing him the previous night, and pulls out the scrap of cloth. It looks (and smells) like part of a hundred-year-old coat. They all agree to simply pretend this little piece of evidence had never come up, until a few hours into their watch when Marchdale realizes that the scrap looks a lot like the outfit the guy in the portrait is wearing. This idea is so troubling to them that Henry and Marchdale immediately run across the hall to compare the two, and sure enough they match exactly. Henry mentions that, funnily enough, the man in the portrait was buried in his clothes.

Just then, they're interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the garden outside. They rush out with the intention of shooting the intruder, who they assume is the vampire, but it turns out to be Chillingworth. Chillingworth is a huge busybody, and couldn't resist lying in wait near the house to see if the supposed vampire would turn up. After reconvening briefly with George, Henry, Marchdale, and Chillingworth decide to conduct a sweep of the grounds. They climb up on top of the garden wall in order to have a better vantage point, and from there they spot a human figure lying under a tree. As they watch, the light of the moon falls upon the figure, and it begins to sit up and move.

Immediately, Marchdale shoots it, and it falls to the ground once more. The three of them run to investigate the figure, which gets up again and runs away from them, managing to evade them in the woods. All three of them remark that the figure appeared to be wearing hundred-year-old clothes. This cinches it for Henry, who is now completely convinced that the figure is his ancestor risen as a vampire. Chillingworth, on the other hand, stubbornly insists there's no such thing as vampires. Marchdale proposes that, to put the matter to rest, they go and visit the family crypt and investigate the tomb of Henry's ancestor for signs of disturbance.

We have word from Varney! He's sent Henry a letter, in which he calls him "Mr. Beaumont", which is hilarious and probably not intentional on the part of the author. Rymer is, as we will see, hopelessly bad at keeping his character names consistent. Varney lives in an estate called Ratford Abbey, which he moved into a few days ago and is located very close to the Bannerworth house.

Henry makes explicit for the first time the Bannerworths' dire financial situation, which has previously only been alluded to. The family was once wealthy, but successive generations of irresponsible Bannerworth men have depleted the family fortune, and now they are so poor that Henry fears they may not be able to keep their house much longer. Due to these circumstances, Henry doesn't want to make any new acquaintances. He is sure that Sir Francis Varney, being a gentleman, will pick up on this and not push the matter. Sure, Henry, let's go with that.

Like every girl I knew in middle school, the men in this book insist on doing everything in groups, and sure enough, Henry, George, and Marchdale all end up keeping watch in Flora's room. George insists on joining because his nerves will keep him up all night otherwise, and Marchdale insists because he, being older, has a cooler head than the other two. Immediately after making this assertion he tells them that if he catches the vampire tonight he's gonna wrassle it. The three of them reason that a three-person watch is not overkill because that way, if something distracting happens, they can send two people to investigate it and leave the third behind to keep watch. And boy, can these gentlemen get distracted. First they simply HAVE to go across the hall to compare Marchdale's cloth scrap with the painting (can it not wait until morning?), and then when Chillingworth makes his appearance they make a spur-of-the-moment decision to search the grounds of the house, on the grounds that Chillingworth thought he heard something on the other side of the garden wall.

Themes of denial and aversion continue to crop up. As evidence of the vampire mounts, the men continually remind each other not to do anything so rash as believe in the obvious conclusion:

"Say nothing of this relic of last night's work to any one." "Be assured I shall not. I am far from wishing to keep up in any one's mind proofs of that which I would fain, very fain refute."

Henry tells us that the ancestor in the portrait committed suicide. While never directly stated as such by the text, this is another hint; one folkloric belief is that death by suicide could lead to a person becoming a vampire.

Hearing a noise from outside, they assume the vampire has returned, and in doing so nearly shoot Chillingworth:

"Among the laurels. I will fire a random shot, and we may do some execution." "Hold!" said a voice from below; "don't do any such thing, I beg of you." "Why, that is Mr. Chillingworth's voice," cried Henry. "Yes, and it's Mr. Chillingworth's person, too," said the doctor, as he emerged from among some laurel bushes.

You know, it's funny that it never occurs to anyone that Chillingworth might be the vampire. So far the guy has been behaving very suspiciously.

Chillingworth says he heard something, so naturally a search of the grounds is in order. They return to Flora's room to tell George their plan. George agrees to stay behind, but not before arming himself with a sword, which he was keeping in his bedroom. I assume that sort of thing was more normal in the 18th century.

Chillingworth continues to be suspicious, or at the very least incredibly nosy:

"You are, no doubt, much surprised at finding me here," said the doctor; "but the fact is, I half made up my mind to come while I was here; but I had not thoroughly done so, therefore I said nothing to you about it."

They fetch a ladder from the garden, and use it to climb to the top of the wall Varney spent five minutes failing to climb the previous night. From this vantage point, they catch sight of a mysterious figure lying underneath a tree. Is the implication that he's been lying there all night?

The moon slowly rises higher in the sky, until the moonlight falls on the ground below the tree. As the light falls over the figure, they see him move, convulse, and then slowly begin to get to his feet - at which point Marchdale shoots him, laying him low again. Rude, Marchdale.

Of course, as Marchdale points out, they could stand around shooting him all night - so long as the moon shines on him, he'll keep getting up again. And get up he does, just in time to evade Chillingworth running at him. Off runs the vampire into the dark woods, where none of the three men dare give chase. Henry has been greatly shaken by all this, and finally sheds the air of forced denial which the men had all adopted. I would think this sensible if it led to him taking any action - stock up on garlic, perhaps? - but that's not how this book works. Believer or skeptic, all are equally incompetent. Case in point: Chillingworth, quite the opposite of Henry, stubbornly refutes the notion that what they just witnessed was in any way supernatural. Does he have an explanation, then, for what just happened?

"True; I saw a man lying down, and then I saw a man get up; he seemed then to be shot, but whether he was or not he only knows; and then I saw him walk off in a desperate hurry. Beyond that, I saw nothing."

You saw a man wearing hundred-year-old clothes, matching the appearance of the one who broke into the Bannerworth house last night, who in turn matches the appearance of their hundred-years-dead ancestor. At the very least you should suspect foul play of some kind.

Marchdale winds up being the voice of reason, as the only one of these dumbasses to come up with an actionable suggestion: hey, if we think this guy might be Vampire Runnagate Bannerworth, why don't we go check on him and see if his grave's been disturbed? The chapter ends there, with the three of them reconvening with George and telling him of their new plan, and all four of them committing to carry it out.

Next: The author stalls for time with an entire chapter of exposition.

[rachelbethhines]

60 Years of Doctor Who Anniversary Marathon - McCoy 9th Review

Question Mark Pyjamas - Short Story

The Virgin Decalogs were kind of a precursor to the Short Trips of today. An anthology series that at first focused on Doctor Who, that then went on to feature the Expand Who Universe, and finally focusing on original works with no connection to the series.

This is because Vrigin lost the publishing license for Who after the TV movie. More on that later.

Question Mark Pyjamas is the final story in the second Decalog "Lost Property". The recurring theme of this anthology is all the random properties the Doctor acquires through out his travels... houses, land, condos, boats, hotels... ect.

It's an odd theme, but I haven't read the entire book yet so I can't tell you how well it works as a whole, but I can tell you that said theme is front and center within the short story I'm reviewing today.

A house the Doctor owns is stolen by a alien conman looking to set up a theme park on an asteroid. The Doctor and his companions are held hostage and forced to become a side show attraction for the park. They must quite literally 'play house' and pretend to be a 'normal' earth family for the constantly viewing audience.

I probably make the story sound way cooler than it actually is with that summary.

In reality the narrative has a very slow first half, an awkward middle, and doesn't really come together until the very end.

Part of the problem is that the Tardis crew just kind of stumbles onto the theme park and discovers the stolen house by shear coincidence. They then get captured by the villain when they try to confront him.

Rather than making the very comedic villain an unstoppable force to be reckoned with, it instead just makes our heroes look weak... especially Ace who is supposed to be combat hardened by this point.

Also they aren't forced to preform for a live audience, but are made to 'rehearse' for the villain who never shuts up.

The tension of the story is basically downgraded.

But that's alright, this is intended to be a lighthearted comedy piece.

Except it's not particularly funny.

A lot of the jokes fall flat for me. Mainly cause it only seems to have one joke.

Two foul mouthed, 'modern' women are forced to perform sanitized outdated stereotypes that they hate, and they won't shut up about how much they hate it, but quite literally won't do anything about it with out the Doctor's permission. Hardy, har, har...

Oh and the Doctor makes a weird, out of character, sex joke at some point.

Finally, I just hate how everyone is written through out most of it.

It's like I'm walking into middle of on going argument between a poly group that I have no context for.

Why is everyone in the tardis crew so rude and bitchy to each other at the beginning? What's up with all the awkward innuendoes between them? Why has Ace regressed as a character despite supposedly being older now?

Yeah that's the real disappointment here. I know the NAs had nothing to do with the Professor and Ace audios, but it's still disappointing to go from one story where she shows actual character development to another story where she's even more immature than she was on tv.

Like the character's main conflict in the story is that despite being in her 20s now, Ace is forced to play 'the child' for the attraction. Except she is childish.

She's rude, bratty, calls her own supposed friends names behind their backs, paranoid, self-centered and more concerned with 'having fun' then actually rescuing her friends.

The narrative makes a point to say that she's 'a woman now' and 'old before her time' but then has her behaving like a spoiled 13 year old.

But it's not all bad.

As I said, things pick up as we head towards then end. After Ace decides to remove the stick up her butt and help out, we get several cute scenes.

Ace escaping the house on a motorbike, driving through the amusement park with killer robots chasing after her, laughing all the way, is just unfiltered concentrated Who.

The Doctor and Benny cooking lunch together is adorable, and I love the pay off at the end regarding the roast.

And Benny's pure joy at getting to raid the Doctor's wine cellar full of antique alcohols from around the universe is perhaps the most realized the character has ever been to me.

Like counting this one, I've only read/heard three stories with Benny in total and the character never really clicked for me until this moment. Where she's cradling a wine bottle like a baby and cooing at it, going on and on about how much she's going to enjoy drinking it.

That's hilarious.

Hopefully that humor follows her into the Benny spin-off series which we'll be covering next.

[mauannacreates]

Flufftober August

Gosh, sorry for being late on this rendition of Flufftober by @flufftober month. I was working quite a bit on my later WIPs, and busy with real life stuff that this one kinda swpt by until last minute.

I have to admit, I quite enjoyed working on this one. Especially with exploring the dynamics between the characters here, I couldn't help but want to do it with Elaine and Marielle, and even did a quick sketch of the surroundings they could be at. So I hope you guys enjoy this one!

---

Elaine struts by, collecting all the things she could find. Weapons, armory and jewlerry. All the things she has found scattered on the floor. Well, so much for try to have a neat room. And when she twists around, she could see the girl who is no more than half her height, reaching to her hips. 

And mind you, she ain't a girl. 

"Lainy! Hi~!" the girl with her eyes barely showing under her pink domed head says, "Oh goodie, it's so nice to see you today!" 

"Do I even want to know how you got into my room?" 

"Nope." despite her sweet smile curving through her lips, something tells Elaine that would probably be the case that she has done something. And despite her small size the tentacles from her sides swirl around. Elaine tenses her lip. She's definitely a lot more dangerous than she's letting on. 

"so… What are we going to do today?" 

"what do you mean?" she gives a forced laugh as she narrows her eyes for the owl that should be there by now. "actually, where's Tynan?" 

"Oh, Ty? We're going to him now." she says "I thought that we can both go to him, like we're badass, sister style." 

Elaine gives a cackling laugh, "Marielle. You know I have more duties to do than to pretend to be your younger-" 

"actually older sister." she gives a stretched smile… Older…?

"How… How old are you?" 

"A hundred and fifty six years old." What the…!? "At least, it'd probably translate to… Twenty one cat years?" twenty one what..? Before Elaine could begin to understand it, she thrusts her hand to her fists. 

"Stop trying to be funny with me." Elaine says. 

"Oh, no, no. It's not me being funny to you at all. It's all seriousness." good grief. Even the way she's facing her with her mouth drooped doesn't make it any easier to say anything that she said is a joke. 

"You know… I'm twenty six, but that…" I stare at her. ”That doesn't make any sense."

"You know how you have cat lives…?" 

"You mean as in cat lives, right…?" 

"yeah, yeah." she says. "I have that sort of thing, but… Limitless." What the hell…?! 

"how in the hell is that possible…!?" Elaine says, and her mouth tenses, but then scrunches up.  

"I, uhh… regenerate…?” Why is she saying it like it’s the most obvious thing…? “It's complicated to explain, but after getting tired or really hurt, I just… Revive myself?" This is sounding more ridiculous by the minute. "I'm sure you'll see it one of these days!"

"I am going to pretend I never heard you say that." 

"Lainy~!" Marielle gives a chided laughter. She is probably the second weirdest– no scratch that, the weirdest Elaine has ever encountered. 

"Look, I don't really care how you revive yourself. Just…" She searches her, but then Elaine gives a sigh as she twists away from her. "Let's go and look for Tynan."

"Okay! Cue the music!" the music? What mus– 

'My, my, how the seasons go by

I get high, and I love to get low

So the hearts keep breakin', and the heads just roll

You know, that's how the story goes'

God, why does she have to sing? And… Where the hell is that music coming from…!? 

'One, two, three, they gonna run back to me

'Cause I'm the best baby that they never gotta keep

One, two, three, they gonna run back to me

They always wanna come, but they never wanna leave –'

"Marielle, stop!" Elaine says, and gosh, what is with her and laughing so much…? 

"Hey, I've got to have some backbeat music somewhere." her smile inches just that bit wider. "especially since I'm walking with my cooler and younger sister~!"

"Yeah, but…" Elaine takes a breath in. If she could only strangle that jellyfish…! But then, something's telling her it would be a mistake if she did that. So she takes a breath in. "We are at a palace. Not at a bar." Elaine says "and I am not your little sister!"

“I know.” She says, “I just like to make you laugh and allll stressed out.” Oh, what…!? So this jellyfish is really doing this on purpose…? She will–  “Just joking.” Marielle gives a soft smile, before her big round dress wavers to the side. “Let’s go Lainy. It’s a nice August day, and hey. It’s soon Spring… or Autumn...?” 

“It’s fall here.” And her pink dome stares up at her for what seems like a few seconds. Even as the other people are walking past the corridor. Who knows what she’s thinking. 

“I knew that.” No, she didn’t. She didn’t. But then she’s turning away…! “Lainy, we have to find Ty soon. We don’t want to keep him waiting.” Of course Marielle doesn’t. But then, Elaine herself didn’t want to keep Tynan waiting either.  

“Fine, but you better explain how you got into my room sooner or later.” and Marielle gives a laugh. Something is telling her she won’t get an answer. But it doesn’t matter. It’s different than with all those other people in Lanz’ castle. Serious, rigid and fine. Well, it ought to be time that Elaine herself did something different around here besides sitting still and acting like a princess the whole day.

[fandomsareforlife]

For the oc ask game...

I don't know who those people that you mentioned in the tags are... or at least I don't remember them?

But uh, it says that if u don't know, then just ask-

Yeah hi

I'm asking 👈(" ⁰ ∇ ⁰ "👈)

Hello, my friend! I have actually mentioned one of my OC’s before, Eugene Techno, in detail. You can find it here!

However, my other ones are all but a mystery to you, I have realized. As such, I am finally committing my ideas to paper. I will not be going super in depth, solely so this way you don’t have to read like an essay. I will be talking briefly about the history of them and their creation.

Also, these are all based off their personality traits/backstory in my A-Z series, so some things may be retconned/changed in other series/stories. Just roll with it, okay?

So let’s get started.

Selena Darkley Oppenheimer

Pronouns: She/Her

Let’s start things off with probably one of my first OC’s for Ninjago. She is Shade’s big sister and in some aus Ultra Violet’s twin and is 22 years old at the time of the Tournament Of Elements. She’s the same age as Griffin, Ash and Chamille. She is also the master of spirits.

(Also she and Griffin used to pretend to date since they were expected to get married at a young age.)

She has definitely been through some changes. For one, she actually used to be Shade’s twin sister, but then I realized I liked the idea of her being an older sister more.

Some things about her is that, like her siblings, she is part-phantom, which means that for her magical rituals relating to the body, soul and life force are much easier than they are for others. She is fairly tall at about 5 foot 9 inches.

She is definitely not a great influence on Shade, but she tries. She truly does try, but unfortunately her growing up very independent makes it hard for her to be able to care for a small human.

She’s aromantic and allosexual, cause we need more aroallo rep in stories. Not great at flirting, but will do so if needed.

Zevon Turner

Pronouns: He/Him

Now, you might look at the last name and go, “Hey isn’t there a guy named Griffin Turner?” And to you I saw, yes. Yes there is.

He’s Griffin twin brother, and is affectionately know as the evil twin. He’s definitely more willing to cause chaos than Griffin, but that’s a story for a different time. He is also the taller twin, which isn’t saying much considering he’s barely any taller but he is fine with that.

He is very much a fighter. His specialty with magic is combat magic, so spells that can be useful in a fight. Specifically, ones that affect time and genera combat spells, such as cutting spells.

Also, he is the designated earth science nerd since his brother is not willing to be it.

Elijah Paleman (edited)

Pronouns: He/They

Elijah is Paleman’s older sibling, by two years. He used to be called Xavier/Anthony, but I decided that Elijah was cooler. (+I decided to have Xavier added to my name hoard and wanted to give homage to a lot of creators who use Elijah as Paleman’s first name.) He is also dating Zevon, cause I said so.

(Also, quick note: Elijah is fine with both masculine and gender neutral words being used in regards to him, but they usually just use whatever one he remembers exists.)

He is the tallest, because he has some giant blood in him, which meant that they managed to be six foot 3, which is pretty unheard of for Darkley’s graduates.

Elijah is very much the rich kid stereotype in the friend group. Their parents were not as focused on getting him able to survive by himself so much as getting him ready to take on the family business. (The family business is a tech/security company with some focus on fashion and various illegal things.) That meant that while he is definitely a decently skilled fighter and negotiator, their survival skills leave something to be desired.

His whole thing is being very good with tech. Unlike the rest of his friends, he doesn’t have a bunch of innate wild magic in him, which means that he doesn’t have the same issues as them with using tech, since he is part giant, which means that his magic doesn’t affect tech as much. Therefore he is the designated tech guy.

Also, just to let you know, he does actually try to be a good older sibling. Like they bought books on how to. And he and his brother get along great.

—-

Alright that is all of them! If you have anymore questions please feel free to direct them towards me, but note that I might take forever or answer.

[ibelieveinghost]

4/7/24

up-dates!!!

1st off!: got my visa!!! finally!!!!!! actually, i got it on Wednesday but never found the energy to write here haha. oh! i graduated on Friday too and somehow talked the school into refunding the rest of the tuition. so everything went great in the end.

but seriously. i haven't write in so long, and i'll try my best this morning(rainy Sunday vibes yay!) to cover as much as possible. ok moving on---

i've been drawing/sketching on and off, and it sorta feels like a habit. lighthearted efforts and ease, something i rarely experience w/ making art since...since high school.

i've been updating more consistently on my blogs/twitter now. i got some response. some. not as much as one'd wish haha. but honestly, i felt so grateful that people are liking my stuff.

on the other hand, the job hunting has been going... well it has been going! not a ton of jobs being posted out there since early March, and i'm starting to realize that i'm only pretending to be really wanting certain positions. i got so accustomed to idea of working as a researcher/scientist, but. man. wasn't that why i left school in the first place, that i fucking hate it despite pouring ~10 years of my life into it and seemed to be going somewhere. having bright prospects and all. now that i knew. well. i need a little more time to think and un-think, to not rush ahead, and be complete honest w/ myself. getting the visa means i got all the time i want. so again, all worked out in the best way possible.

oh yea! birthday coming up in couple weeks! woo hoo! been planning a little overnight trip somewhere! probably 軽井沢 or 伊豆高原. idk! haven't gone anywhere not Tokyo/Yokohama since early Jan, and traveling alone is totally my thing! actually, growing older is so much cooler than i'd thought when i was in my early 20s. but like. past me: imagining feeling more grounded, taking things less seriously, and being more in tune with urself.

ok! dumping some photos seem like a good way to continue:

(reverse chronological order)

(コメダ I literally come here everyday now lol)

(graduation cert came with a bear! + my lamys... i'm not collecting them! they're super easy to write to write with and i adore the bright neon colors that's it!)

( i went to the 4D special viewing of prisoner of Azkaban and man---it worked so well w/ the 4D format. i mean it is the rainy/icy snowy one of the 8, so a lot of spraying water on your face situations! i was wearing a wide grin the whole time i guess. it was so much fun. that being said, i def shed a few tears near the end when harry realized no one's coming to save the two of em, so he stepped out and did what he didn't even know he's capable of. a scene my younger self never managed to relate to. but it def resonates now.

i love this movie so much, probably my fav out of all of them. watched it at the theater w/ dad when i was probably in...middle school or younger?)

(awww)

(the day i got my visa)

(date w/ S!)

(dinner later that night, w/ the gang)

(us, acting a little stupidly ha + interesting cards i took from the bar)

(last Sunday)

(the komeda near ogikubo station, it went all orange that day + cute lil book i might come back and buy later)

(the night i last hang out w/ A)

damn we're reaching the 30 photo/post limit

so guess that's that! i'm coming back to wrap up this epic photo dump soon(later today)

it felt so nice to just recounting my life, sharing all the bits and pieces on one had ever asked for. to me, it's a cute and ultimately therapeutic thing to do. my future self must be thanking me for taking the time to record everything haha.

anyway! see ya soon!

[unlimitedhorsepower]

lol sure, thanks for asking @ensom-lillebror.

though the more i think about it the less special it is. while drawing this i realized his jacket is a really typical japanese souvenir jacket, shiny fabric and everything. i referenced some 80s souvenir jackets for changing it a little, wanted it to look kind of cheap but he loves it anyway.

underneath he is wearing a gundam logo t-shirt, which is his idea of a tasteful anime reference.

he also wears loose parachute pants, and the original fit of these was originally quite tight but i wanted to reference his looser pants and the later looser fit. parachute pants were very in style with young guys for a moment and he is really trying to be a little stylish but hes kinda late to the party, and maybe the pants are a bit loose on him because theyre a little ill-fitting, hence the belt.

the material is quite thin so its easy to tuck into socks for some extra security, like, thats how you make your pants tick-proof. its a reference to camping/outdoorsy activities and i think a reference to him also being somewhat practical, same with the sturdy boots.

he also has a couple of sentai and general japan-related pins on his jacket, which he considers a tasteful reference. i was thinking its in line with his "please notice me but dont notice me" dilemma, where he kinda hopes someone will ask him about his merch but not actually. he would like to talk about his interests but would also like to explode if someone actually asked him

last but not least, i gave him more of a mullet, classic 80s moment. its my headcanon that he can effortlessly change the cut and colour of his hair, and he probably is naturally dark-haired, but shapeshifts it into blonde to appear a a bit "cooler". i think sometimes he goes a bit daring and makes his hair appear dyed at the tips and sometimes when hes anxious his hair gets just a tiny bit longer and shadows his eyes better so he doesnt have to see.

i also adjusted his design otherwise a bit, i wanted to make him look younger than he is, which ties into his feelings of cringe around himself and how he hates himself a little bit and has anxiety and fares better when he pretends to be someone else

ryan goes "haha i thought you were 15 lmfao i was really surprised youre older than princess is. its crazy dude" and ivans entire year is ruined

ivans japan obsession is also just a weeaboo joke as far as i know but weeaboos werent yet a real thing in the 80s so he would just self-describe as an otaku...

i also thought it would be interesting if there was some other reason than just a joke for this, so i imagined him to have north asian indigenous heritage.

he is also embarrassed of his heritage and parents and especially of being a "rural" kid (i think he moved to sternbild for school. if i was ivan and my family was near i would live with them instead of alone in a funny NEET cave. bc every time i remember seeing his living quarters theyve been 100% japan-themed), because as far as he knows its not cool, whereas japan IS cool, his favourite media is from japan, so hes kind of substituting japan for his heritage. its safe and "cool" and he doesnt have to actually divulge anything real about himself. even if he kind of wishes someone would ask. but he would also die before he talked about any of it.

we dont see anything about his family in canon as far as i know besides them telling him like "ivan dont show off your power to random people it can be scary.stay safe", so source: i made it up. mightve forgotten some ivan canon lore on the side but i hope not

much to ponder about ivans i want to be noticed/ i hope nobody ever notices me ever brain worms and issues over his sense of self

another of my more 80s redesigns. had so much trouble before i remembered his camping backstory. japan merch included of course

[lilliagradiewrites]

surprise? (jj maybank)

Summary: You’re John B’s sister, and you’ve been dating JJ in secret for months. What happens when John B sees a hickey on your neck, and realizes his best friend has been making on his little sister?

WC: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Hickey/ mentions of sexy time, cursing, mentions of violence

A/N: Another JJ one shot! This one has been sitting half-finished in my collection for a while now, so tonight I decided to complete it! I’m such a sucker for a brother’s best friend moment, so I knew I had to write a JJ x Routledge! reader fic. i hope you all like it!

PS: Thank you so much for all the love on evermore, my last fic!! It was so well received, and has gotten more recognition than anything else I've ever uploaded. I’m so thankful!!

I love you all so so much, and I hope you enjoy!!

LET’S DO IT!

~~~~~~

Neither you nor JJ could pinpoint the exact moment it began.

Being John B’s younger sister, you had known the blonde boy for basically your entire life. In seventh grade, you had developed a slight crush on JJ. He was the older, popular boy that cracked funny jokes; how could you not like him? You had always thought he was cute, but you started seeing him in a different light around the age of twelve.

The crush quickly faded away, and you found yourself with many boyfriends and flings over the years. Looking back on it now, you don’t think your feelings JJ ever truly went away… you had just forced yourself to forget them.

For JJ, the feelings developed around his sophomore year, when you were a freshman. For the vast majority of his life, he’d seen you every day when he inevitably made his way to the chateau. He’d cared about you, of course, but no more than a ‘I care about her because she’s my best friends little sister’ kind of way.

He has a vivid memory of you, the morning after he’d had a sleepover with your brother. He was sitting on the couch with John B, having a conversation about some stupid guy thing he couldn’t even recall now. He remembers seeing you walk out of your room, having just woken up, wearing an oversized t-shirt. Your hair was in a messy bun, and you didn’t have on any makeup.

He couldn’t explain why, but you looked so damn beautiful to him that day. You never noticed him staring at you, but John B did. JJ remembers his friend’s brows furrowing.

“What the hell are you staring at?” After following JJ’s gaze, his eyes widened. “Are you looking at my sister, man? Cut that shit out.”

“No, of course I wasn’t. I was looking out the window. Chill, bro.” JJ had quickly denied the claims of his friend, who didn’t entirely believe him but chose not to say anything else on the topic. After that day, JJ tried his best to avoid staring at you, but it was always hard for him.

Within a month after that incident, you began hanging out with the Pogues more and more. They quickly became your best friends, and you loved them all more than anything. They all helped you and John B through the disappearance of your father, and you were eternally grateful.

Naturally, you found yourself growing the closest with Kie. Being the only two girls, it made the most sense for the two of you to be very close. Kiara was like a sister and a best friend all in one, and you loved her very much.

Pope was always great. He kept you and the rest of the pogues in check, making sure you remained safe and made smart decisions. John B, of course, was your older brother, and you were very close with him. You had your frustrations with the brunette, however. One thing that always pissed you off about John B was how insanely protective he was. He would threaten any guy whose eyes lingered too long on you at a party, and it took years of convincing to allow him to let you go on a date. You loved him, of course, and knew he was always trying to keep you safe, but you couldn’t help but be frustrated with him sometimes.

And then there was JJ. You didn’t even know what to think when it comes to the blonde boy. You had always noticed something special about him, and felt slightly different towards JJ then all the other boys. For some reason, the both of you kept your distance from each other. Maybe, you both knew in the back of your mind that if you got too close, there’d be no pulling you apart.

One night at a party, you had gotten absolutely wasted. Kiara had gone home with some girl, Pope’s dad didn’t let him come, and John B was nowhere in sight, meaning it was up to JJ to take care of you. He brought you home, cleaned you up, and put you into bed. In your intoxicated state, you let your walls fall down. You told Jj how you felt about him, too drunk to worry about the consequences.

Fortunately for you, the feelings were reciprocated. JJ said that he felt the same way, and he’d been keeping his distance from you because of strict commands from John B. “Anytime I’d get close to you, or even be ‘too friendly’ towards you, I’d get the whole ‘my sister is off limits’ lecture, I was tired of hearing it, and I didn’t think you felt the same anyways.”

That night was the beginning of a long journey. He kissed you, and you were happier than you’d ever been. He ask you to be his girlfriend, and you happily said yes. There was only one issue with the whole situation.

Your stupid, overdramatic, overprotective brother.

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell him for a while?” Jj suggested after much contemplation on both of your parts. “See where this goes. If it gets super serious, we’ll obviously tell him, but it’s probably best to keep it on the down low for now.”

Though hesitant, you eventually agreed, deciding it was the best decision for now. You hated lying to your brother, but it’s not like you had any other choice.

Six months passed after that night. You and JJ’s relationship grew stronger and more serious with each passing day, but neither of you had the guts to tell your brother. So, you kept dating in secret, the relationship only between the two of you.

Oh, right. And Kie.

JJ had gotten into a habit of sneaking into your bedroom window late at night. He rarely got any time with just the two of you, and even when you hung out with your friends, he wasn’t able to be as affectionate as he wished he could be. One morning, Kiara arrived at the chateau earlier than usual, bursting into your room to find you asleep, wrapped in your boyfriend's arms.

The brunette woke the two of you up with a loud exclamation of “What the fuck?”

JJ kissed you goodbye and scrambled out the window before John B heard anything, and you sat Kie down and explained the whole situation, making her promise not to tell anyone.

Especially not John B.

Kiara, being the amazing person she is, swore secrecy and squealed about how happy she was for the two of you.

Kie’s knowledge of the relationship is part of the reason she insists on waking you up one morning at the chateau. She and Pope had stayed the night, as well as JJ. JJ was nowhere to be found, but the group just assumed that he had run home to grab spare clothes or something.

Well, the boys assumed that.

Kie knew better.

Her suspicions were completely confirmed when she entered your room to find you and JJ cuddled together, just like all those months ago when she had first found out.

“Wake up, guys! JB and Pope are awake. JJ, hop out the window and pretend you went to get clothes from your house. You don’t have a lot of time.”

Immediately, you and your boyfriend were launching up out of the bed. He followed his usual routine of kissing you goodbye and then jumping out of the window. You thanked Kie before beginning to search for your swimsuit.

“You’re welcome, babes. And by the way, I’d make sure to cover up that fatass hickey on your neck before walking out of this room.”

Kie gives you a wink before walking out of the room and closing the door, leaving you there with red cheeks and wide eyes.

You moved immediately to your mirror, and examined the left side of your neck. Sure enough, there it was: a large bruise that JJ had taken his sweet time on the night before. You huffed, recalling when he was giving it to you.

“JJ, don’t.” You breathed, lightly pushing him off you. “You can’t leave marks, everyone will see.”

“Let them see.” He lifted his lips off your neck to look you in the eyes. “I’m tired of hiding that you’re mine. I want everyone to know that you’re taken, by me. Let them see, babe, I don’t care.”

For a moment, he had you agreeing with him. Who cares if everyone finds out? They’d just find out eventually anyways. What’s the difference if they find out sooner rather than later?

But, you eventually cam to your senses. “I’m tired of hiding too, J. We’ll tell them soon, but I don’t want my brother to find out I’m with his best friend by seeing the hickey his best friend gave me.”

JJ paused his movements for the second time, breathing and thinking for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you're right.” He bites your earlobe, then leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I’ll make it small. I still want my mark on you.”

Clearly, JJ had lied. The bruise on your neck was absolutely massive, and you’d have your work cut out for you when it came to covering it up. Sighing, you reached for your makeup bag, pulling out some color corrector and concealer.

A good thirty minutes later, the bruise was covered enough to go unnoticed, and you were outside on the dock, dressed in a pink swimsuit and a pair of shorts. John B and Pope were on the boat, preparing it for you day on the water. Kie was inside shoving snacks, water bottles, and beer into a small cooler. JJ, who had just finished rolling a few blunts, came walking out of the house. You heard him approaching behind you, and whipped around to face him.

“I have a bone to pick with you, Maybank.” You glared, crossing your arms over your chest. Your boyfriend looked nervous, his smiling face immediately shifting to a concerned one.

“What’s wrong, babe?” He said quietly, making sure that the other pogues were out of earshot before using the nickname. JJ knew you well, and any term of endearment made you melt for him. He always used them, but was particularly heavy on the nicknames when you were upset with him.

“Last night, I told you not to leave marks. But you insisted, and you told me you’d leave a small one.”

“Yes, that happened. So why are you upset with me?”

“Because the hickey I woke up to this morning was anything but small. It took me twenty minutes and half my concealer to cover that shit up! Are you fucking crazy? Are you trying to get us caught?”

JJ moved towards you, probably to take you in his arms, but caught himself just before he did it, glancing up at the boys on the boat.

“I’m sorry, love. I couldn’t help myself. You look so fucking hot with my marks on your neck. It’s too hard to resist. Believe me, I tried.”

“Then try fucking harder, Maybank! Do I need to remind you that your ass is on the line here, way more than mine? Birdie’s not gonna beat my ass if he finds a hickey on my neck, he’s gonna beat yours! And then I get to have a screaming match with my brother after patching you up in the bathroom. I don’t know about you, but that is not the way I want anybody to find out about our relationship.”

JJ opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again with a sigh. He knew you were right.

“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry. I need to gain better self control. It won’t happen again, I’ll listen to you next time. I’m sorry angel, really. Forgive me?”

He was giving you those puppy dog eyes that he knew you couldn’t resist. After a moment of staring into them, you finally gave in. “yes, bebs, I forgive you. But don’t do that shit again, or so help me God…”

Your boyfriend broke out in an ear to ear grin. You could tell that he wanted nothing more than to kiss you and take you in his arms, but he obviously couldn’t. “Thank you! I love you, angel.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, allowing a smile to creep onto your face. “You’re lucky I love you, too. Now come on, I think they have the boat ready to go.”

------

A few hours later, everyone is lounging on the boat. You’d been out on the marsh for a good four hours, and the whole group was beginning to grow tired. The late afternoon sun bared down relentlessly on you, warming your skin and causing your body to overheat, despite the fact that you’d been swimming in the cool water for the past hour.

“God, it’s so damn hot out here. Can the sun chill the hell out for a second?” You complained, taking a swig of your beer.

The rest of the group murmured their agreement from various places on the boat. Absentmindedly, you gather your wet hair in your hand, holding it up on the back of your head to try and relieve the heat on your neck.

Big, big mistake.

Unknowingly, you’d exposed the massive hickey on the side of your neck for the entire boat to see.

The makeup you’d piled on that morning had apparently faded while you swam. Your hair covering it was the only thing keeping you from exposing yourself, and now it was revealed.

“What the HELL is that, Y/N?” Your brother was speaking, pointing at your now exposed hickey.

You looked immediately at JJ, whose eyes had gone wide and cheeks were pink.

“Um, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Birdie.” You replied quickly, not knowing what else to do.

“Is that a fucking hickey?” John B was walking towards you now, and your eyes were wide. You backed away from him, but you could only go so far on the small boat. He reached you eventually, pushing the hair from the side of your neck to reveal the bruise once again.

For a moment, your brother was silent. Strangely, this made you even more nervous then if he was screaming and shouting. You knew your brother well enough to know he was composing himself.

So that he wouldn’t strangle somebody.

“Who did it?” he said quietly. His voice was shaking with anger.

“Did what?” Your voice was shaking as well, but with fear for your boyfriend’s life instead.

“Who gave you the fucking hickey, Y/N! Stop playing dumb! Who did that to your neck.”

Panicking, you glanced over at JJ.

Yet another big, big mistake.

This glance was enough for John B to realize what the answer to his question was. You watched the pieces slowly connect in his mind, and then he was speaking again.

“It was YOU?” He rounded on the blonde boy near the edge of the boat. “You’re messing with my baby sister? Are you fucking kidding me, JJ?”

“Calm down, bird! It’s not what you think.” You were immediately at your brother’s side, trying to calm him down before your boyfriend’s body ended up at the bottom of marsh.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Y/N! I think this is exactly what it looks like! It looks like this dickhead has a screwing around with my sister when I specifically told him not to!”

“We’re not just screwing around, John B!” JJ said in defense.

“Really? What the fuck else are you doing that would end with my baby sister having a hickey on her neck?”

“We’re dating!” You burst out. “We’ve been dating. For six months now.”

John B turned towards you immediately after your statement. He looked completely dumbfounded, as if he couldn’t possibly process the information he had just been given.

“Six months?” he echoed, and you nodded.

John B turned back to JJ.

“Surprise?” The blonde boy, hoping to lighten the mood.

Obviously, he was unsuccessful.

“You’ve been messing with my sister for SIX MONTHS, and I’m JUST NOW finding out? What the hell is wrong with you? I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

Before anyone could do anything to stop him, John B was lunging at JJ.

As if he’d been preparing to do so, JJ jumped off the side of the boat, landing cleanly in the water.

John B stood over the side of the boat screaming at him.

You mad eye contact with Kie,who was giggling slightly at the whole situation. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

This was going to be a long night.

~~~~~ A/N: Anddddd there’s the end! I really hope you guys liked this!

All notes and reblogs are highly appreciated!

ALSO: SEND REQUESTS!!

I love you guys so much,and Happy Holidays!!!!!

[brain-deadx0]

Virgil's Betrayal

Part 3 of New Big Brother

Previous Next

Summary: Remy meets Patton’s brother and kids and proceeds to get murdered. 

Warnings: Food mention, play fighting including nerf guns, manipulation but for good stuff, let me know

Remy was not nervous. 

 When dad guy had asked him a few days ago if he would be ok with going to the man’s brother’s house for lunch that weekend, Remy had said, “Sure.” He’d agreed to it. 

 So no. Remy wasn’t nervous. Even as they pulled up to the frankly huge house in a neighborhood of huge houses. 

 Definitely not nervous. 

 Virgil was practically vibrating in his seat. He’d been telling Remy all about his uncle and cousins, and what games they could play together the entire drive. 

 “Everybody ready?” Dad guy asked as he turned the car off. 

 “Yep!” Virgil told him as he quickly unbuckled himself. 

 Dad guy sent one of his questioning looks to Remy via the rear view mirror. Remy ignored it and climbed out of the car to follow Virgil who had already ran for the front door. 

 Dad guy joined them at the door as Virgil rang the bell. Remy wasn’t trying to hide behind them. They just ended up closer to the door. There was the sound of a lock being turned before someone inside the house hollered for them to come in. 

 As soon as they walked through the door there was the sound of footsteps running down the stairs. 

"Virgil! Uncle Patton!” A pair of voices yelled before two young boys were launching themselves off the stairs towards them. Dad guy yelped in alarm as he attempted to… catch them? 

 “Jan, your boys are going to give me a heart attack one of these days!” The man yelled through his subdued laughter from his place on the ground. 

 “And I’ll help them get rid of the body.” The voice from before called. A moment later a short man appeared from what Remy assumed was the kitchen. He looked a lot like dad guy save for the fact he was definitely older than the man. And the mild scarring on the left side of his face. 

 “Alright boys, that’s enough abunculicide.” The man told the kids who were laughing in dad guy’s arms. 

 “Aw…” The pair said before releasing him. 

 Dad guy smiled before standing up and ruffling their hair causing one grin and the other to balk and try to fix it. 

 “You must be Remy.” The man said, “My name’s Janus, it’s nice to finally meet you.” 

 “Nice to meet you, sir.” Remy told him. 

 Mr. Janus smiled, “You can call me Janus.” 

 Yeah that was not happening. 

 “The two terrors who ambushed you all are my sons Roman and Remus.” 

 “I’m Roman.” “And I’m Remus.” The two introduced with matching bows, “And together we’re-!” They spun in opposite directions before striking poses back to back, “-the creativitwins!”

 Remy couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the theatrics as dad guy clapped excitedly, “Oh that was so cute!” Dad guy told them. 

“No it wasn’t!” The pair told him pointedly, “It was cool.” Roman told him. 

 “Yeah!” Remus agreed. 

 “Well whatever it was, I loved it.” Dad guy told them. 

 “Lunch will be ready in about a half hour,” Mr. Janus told them, “So you can all make yourselves at home.” 

 “Can we go outside?” Remus asked. 

 “Yes, but-” before the man could finish both boys took off running. 

 “Come on Virge!” One of them called. 

 The next thing Remy knew he was being grabbed by the hand and pulled towards the back yard, “Come on Remy!” Virgil told him. 

 Guess he was going outside. 

 ~ 

 “-Don’t get too dirty.” Janus finished lamely as all the minors fled to the backyard, “Well I tried.” 

 Patton chuckled, “Probably should’ve started with that part.” 

 “How many sons did you want back alive?” He asked. 

 Patton laughed, “Come on, I’ll help make lunch. 

 ~ 

 Remy watched the younger kids from his seat on the porch steps. Roman suggested playing super hero’s and was met with agreements until he suggested Virgil be the villain. Which apparently happened a lot. 

 “Come on, Virgil.” Roman whined, “We need a bad guy!” 

 “But I always lose when I play the bad guy.” Virgil told them, “Why can’t you be the bad guy and we fight you?” 

 “Because me and Re are the heroes.” Roman said as if it were obvious. 

 “We could be bad guys.” Remus told him, “The bad guys are cooler anyway.” 

 “Noooo.” Roman told him, “We’re the creativitwins! We’re supposed to be the good guys!” 

 “But we’re always the good guys!” Remus replied. 

 “Remy!” Virgil called, “Tell them we wanna be the heroes!” 

 “How about…” 

 ~ 

 Patton jumped when the mostly silent backyard suddenly erupted in gleeful screams. 

 “Welcome to the world of raising multiple children.” Janus told him. 

 Patton smacked his arm lightly before going to peek at the yard. The three younger boys were running around the yard at top speed as Remy made a grab for whoever got closest to him. Patton smiled as Roman yelled for a retreat before all three kids ran for the treehouse. Remy stalked after them, giving the twins enough time to make it to safety, but grabbed Virgil before he could climb high enough. 

 Virgil squealed as he was pulled away from the tree and yelled for help through his laughter. 

 Patton cooed at the sight before reluctantly going back to the kitchen. 

 ~ 

 Virgil laughed wildly even as Remy used him as a partially successful human shield. If he had known there were fully loaded nerf guns, Remy would’ve made it harder for them to get to the treehouse. 

 “Don’t worry Virge!” One of them yelled, “We’ll rescue you!” 

 “Dead or alive!” The other added. 

 Remy laughed, “It’s not a rescue if you kill him!” He told them as they continued to shoot.  

 “Silence feind!” The first one told him before firing more foam bullets at them. 

"Any ideas?” Remy asked Virgil quietly. 

 “I think there’s more guns on the porch?” Virgil whispered back. 

“Perfect.” Remy grinned, “Muwahaha! You can’t defeat me!” He told the pair in the treehouse before running towards the porch with Virgil. 

 Once there he put Virgil down and the kid directed him to where the extra nerf guns were. The ones in the hidden storage bin were much smaller than the ones the twins had. 

 “Virgil! You’re not supposed to help the bad guy!” 

 “Ha ha! I put him under mind control!” Remy told them, “Now I have a minion.” 

 Virgil snickered before rushing to grab a gun of his own.

 “You won’t get away with this, villain!” 

 “Let him go or face our wrath!” 

 “Never!” Remy called back, “Pick up as many bullets as you can, but don’t shoot too much, ok?” He whispered to Virgil, “When they run out we can go after them, cool?”

“Yeah!” Virgil whispered excitedly. 

 It took longer than Remy thought it would for the rain of foam to slow to a stop. “It’s over, heroes. Surrender peacefully and I might spare you.” He told them. 

 He could hear hushed laugher from the treehouse before one of the boys replied, “Okaay~ just a minuute~” 

 “Uh-oh.” Virgil said beside him. 

 “Uh-oh?” 

 He didn’t have to wait long to figure out what the kids were up to because a second later he was being pelted with various balls, ranging from ping pong to tennis. Before he even had a chance to recover, one of the twins was suddenly right next to him and whacking him with a foam sword. 

“What the- hey!” He laughed before trying to fend off the nine-year-old. While he was distracted, the other one had made their way to the ground as well and ambushed him from behind. “Oh shhh-!” He cut himself off as he fell. 

 The second kid had hit the back of his knees with a foam club. This was definitely not a fair fight. 

 While the twins were busy beating him to death he suddenly felt the familiar sensation of foam bullets. 

 “Wha-? Virgil! I thought you were on my side?” He asked incredulously, causing Virgil to laugh, “Betrayed by my own brainwashed minion!” 

The kid just giggled harder, “I was just pretending to be mind controlled!” He told him as he continued to fire the toy gun. 

 The kids screamed in delight as they assaulted him with their various weapons. Remy was ready to admit defeat and call them off when a voice interrupted. 

 “Alright, boys, that’s enough.” Dad guy said. 

‘Oh shit.’

 ~

 Patton’s heart broke a little as the joy on Remy’s face quickly melted away to something much more subdued. He sent him what he hoped was a reassuring smile but it didn’t seem to help any. “Lunch is ready.” He told them. 

 “Okay.” the younger kids chorused before dropping their weapons and racing inside. 

 “Are you alright?” Patton asked, “They might be foam but they can still hurt when the boys get excited.” 

 “I’m fine.” Remy said casually as he stood up and brushed himself off. 

 “Alright then.” He smiled, “Then let’s go eat some pizza bread.”

 ~

 "Pizza bread" as it turned out, was bread with cheese and pepperoni inside. So, more sophisticated than the rolled up pizza slice Remy had pictured. Apparently you were supposed to dip it in some fancy tomato sauce which is why Remy was surprised when Mr. Janus had them all move to the living room to eat. 

 "Dad, can we watch Avatar?" Roman asked. 

 "No, let's watch dirty jobs!" Remus told him. 

 "How about mythbusters?" Roman countered. 

 "Ah, ah," Mr. Janus told them, "what's the rule for guests?" 

 "Virgil," They chorused, "wanna watch-" "Avatar?" "Dirty jobs?"

 "Um… what about Most Extreme...?" Virgil tried. 

 "Yes!" 

 "No!" 

 "Two to one, we win!" Remus cheered. 

 "Boys." Mr. Janus told them, "We have more than one guest, remember?" 

 "Remy, say no!" Roman told him, "Then we pick a different show."  

 "I don't really have an opinion." Remy told him, "What's "Most Extreme"?" 

 "They take all the cool stuff from animals like eyes and teeth and show what it would look like if humans had the same ability." Remus told him, "It's neat!" 

 "Its freaky is what it is." Roman told him. 

 "That's what makes it cool!" 

 "I'm gonna pass on the vote." Remy told them. 

 "He's impartial so we win! The Most Extreme it is!" Remus turned to high five Virgil. 

 Roman seemed a bit miffed at losing the vote, but it wasn't long before he was staring at the screen with as much interest as the other two. And honestly? Remy got it. The show was actually pretty cool. 

 ~ 

 Patton smiled as Remy seemed to settle in again and get pulled into the show. He waited until the episode ended and everyone was done eating before moving to collect the empty plates. Unfortunately, the action quickly caught the attention of the teen. 

 "Don’t worry, I got it." Patton assured as Remy moved to start cleaning up as well. 

 "It's ok," Remy told him, as he paused somewhat hesitantly, "I don't mind." 

 Patton smiled, "I appreciate it, but you don't have to. Janus and I are gonna clean up and then we'll probably be heading home." 

 "Oh," Janus said suddenly, "while I'm thinking about it, we packed up some of our old clothes to donate. You guys can look through them for some play clothes." He told him. 

 "Sure." Patton told him. 

 "I'll be right back to help clean up." Janus said before leaving the room. 

 ~

 Remy wasn't sure why he was suddenly on edge. All he knew was something felt off and he didn't like it. 

 Mr. Janus came back a minute later with three large bags. "Ok," he said as he set them down, "look through and take anything." He told them before pointing to the twins, "No dress up this time." He told them. 

"Why not?" Roman asked. 

 "Because yesterday we had to cut your brother out of a shirt you both knew was too small." 

 "I was a mutant giant what was I supposed to wear?" Remus asked indignantly. 

 Remy bit back a smile. 

 "Preferably something big enough to get yourself out of." Mr. Janus told him. 

 "Boring~" Remus drawled. 

 Mr. Janus shook his head fondly, "No dress up." He told them again before leaving to help dad guy. 

 The second he was gone the twins shared a look before quickly opening the bags and digging through them. 

 Remy laughed slightly, "Didn't he just say "no dress up"?" 

 "He said no dress up for us," Roman corrected, "but nothing about us dressing up you or Virgil." 

 "And so long as he doesn't catch us too quickly we can do it too!" Remus grinned. 

 Remy quickly turned down any attempts to get him to play dress up, and delegated himself to watching as the older boys coerced Virgil into trying on just about every piece of clothing. They had quickly moved on from the kids clothes that Virgil could feasibly fit in, or at least grow into soonish, to going through Mr. Janus’s old clothes just to wear them. 

 Virgil was digging through the bag when he suddenly gasped, "Remy!" He said excitedly before pulling something out of the bag and bouncing over, "Look!" He beamed as he held up an old leather jacket, "It's like from the store!" 

 "Uh, yeah, kinda." Remy admitted. 

 "I don't remember that one." Roman told them, "It doesn't look like Dad or Noni's." 

 "Dad!" Remus called.

 "What happened?" Mr. Janus answered as he came around the corner before huffing a small laugh, "I see you ignored the dress up rule." 

 Remus ignored the last part, "Whose jacket is this?" He asked; pointing to the coat Virgil was holding. 

 Mr. Janus glanced at the jacket Virgil was holding, "That's my old one." He told them, "I haven't worn it since… probably since I was about twenty or so. That's when Noni gave me my other one." 

 "How long ago was that?" Virgil asked. 

 Mr. Janus laughed, "Long enough to know I don't need it, let's stick with that." 

"That's Dad's way of saying he's old." Remus whispered causing Virgil to giggle. 

 "I heard that." Mr. Janus told them with an amused eyebrow raise, causing the kids to laugh. Mr. Janus shook his head, "Anyway, like I said you're welcome to anything in the bags." He said with a glance to Remy, "Try not to smother your cousin in the clothes." He told them offhandedly as he went back to the kitchen. 

 Something was definitely going on. 

 "Try it on!" Virgil told Remy as he practically shoved the jacket at him. 

 "I don't know, kid." Remy told him. This whole thing felt like way too much of a coincidence. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. This had to be a set up, right? 

 "Why not?" Virgil asked. 

 "I already have a coat, remember?" 

 "Yeah but this one doesn't cost money." Virgil told him. Dammit. "And at the store you said these were cool." 

Stop making good points.

 "Oh! It could be part of your villain outfit!" Roman exclaimed, "All super villains need to look cool." 

 "Otherwise they're just regular villains!" Remus added. 

 "What's the difference?" 

"Presentation!" All three told him. 

 Ok, well he definitely ran into something there.

 "Pleeeease, Remy?" Virgil asked with wide eyes. 

... Fucking puppy dog eyes.

 Remy sighed, "Ok, fine." 

 ~

Patton peaked around the corner and smiled. For once he was glad Virgil had learned to weaponize his puppy eyes. 

 ~

 Remy made sure that when dad guy and Mr. Janus came back that he was not wearing the jacket. Just in case. 

 Thankfully neither mentioned it as they packed up the clothes Virgil. Or as they resorted the rest the kids had used for dress up. They all said their goodbyes, with Mr. Janus saying he hoped to see them again soon, and the twins telling Remy they wouldn't be going so easy on him next time. 

 If dad guy seemed extra smiley on the way home, it was none of Remy's business. 

 Remy was not smiling to himself either. 

 …Whatever.

 ~~~~~notes~~~~~

 For anyone who was wondering, Virgil 100% knows what he's doing when it comes to puppy dog eyes. He was raised by Patton Can't-say-no-to-cute Sanders. And yes. He does use this for evil. 

[pacifymebby]

November / Bob

Bob x reader 

"Shit," you winced, trying not to jump when yet another bang from the field across the road from your brothers house set your heart racing.

You hated firework night, you'd never liked it when you were young and though your parents had hoped you would grow out of hiding under the table every time you heard fireworks going off, you hadn't. You were 19 now, and though it wasn't the same fear that had you jumping and flinching at every explosion, it was still a fear that left your whole body tense and uncomfortable.

In an attempt to ease your 5th of November nerves your big brother Johnny had invited some of his mates round with the promise that you could shut all the curtains and turn the sound up on your video games loud enough to drown them out, but the bonfire they were having across the street wasn't far enough away that drowning them out was really possible.

So you remained, sitting in the corner of the sofa, knees hugged tight to your chest, trying to hide your childish anxiety from his mates. They were all lads from the band he'd joined the other year, nice lads, funny, easy going, a bunch of dorks and yet, you could tell they were all still much cooler than you. Much older than you too.

When you'd been sitting with them earlier that evening you'd felt much smaller and younger than them, listening to them talking about the things they had planned whilst they were breaking from tour.

"S'alright Mousey," said Johnny as he came back inside, cigarette smoke clinging to his jacket, his hand ruffling your hair as he perched on the arm of the sofa beside you, "couple more hours and they'll be done for the year,"

"A know," you said quietly, blushing because you could feel the eyes of his mates on you, at least you thought you could. All of them probably wondering why you were being such a baby about the whole thing. You bit your lip, jumping when another set of fireworks had you almost dropping your beer.

"You're really jumpy aren't you lass," chuckled Van one of your brothers mates, his smile was friendly enough but you didn't appreciate him drawing even more attention to you. You knew his heart was in the right place but even so.

"Yep," you said, your smile tight when you looked up and met his gaze, "I guess so," you said, cradling your beer in both hands, holding onto it like a little life line.

Van smiled at you, you see in his eyes he was trying to be friendly, but it wasn't enough to ease your nerves.

"She's always been like this, havent you mousey," said your brother, squeezing your shoulder before pushing himself up, asking who was having what out of the fridge and who was having next go on the game they'd been playing. You'd not joined in yet, pretending to watch, laughing along when they did, unable to really concentrate because of the noise outside and the fact that every time someone set fireworks off outside it scare you half to death.

You nodded and smiled a little embarrassed, blushing as you pushed your hair out of your face and took a long gulp of your beer. You weren't really sure the drinking helped that much but it had been yours and Johnnys dodgy coping mechanism for the last few years and you weren't about to start something healthy now.

He wasn't wrong either, you'd never liked fireworks, never. It was just that he was twisting the truth for you there because for awhile you had grown out of it. You'd calmed down in your teenage years and once you'd even been to a bonfire with your friends. It was just that something had happened a couple years ago, something which had nothing to do with fireworks and everything to do with a shitty relationship which had dragged your mental health through the mud, leaving you with several emotional and some physical scars. And PTSD is a bitch on firework night, whether your trauma has anything to do with fireworks or not.

No one really talks about that when they talk about PTSD. How half of your symptoms seem to be irrelevant.

You couldn't stand anything unexpected, you didn't like insects and flies which made you jump, you didn't like ambulance sirens or car horns, didn't like bright lights like when a camera flashes, you didn't like airplane noises, didn't like the sound of doors slamming or people raising their voices, even if they weren't shouting at you.

And you really, really hated fireworks.

Had Bondys friends not been round you'd probably have been hiding under a duvet, squeaking and gasping every time you heard a firework go off. But because they were all there you found yourself trying your best to control your nerves. You were failing but at least you were trying.

When they all crammed back onto the sofa you wound up squished next to Bob, the quietest of Bondys mates. He hadn't been joining in with their games much either and you'd sussed that maybe he was a kindred spirit in that sense, preferring just to watch and laugh at their daft behaviour rather than joining in.

It wasn't until later when the rest of them had piled back outside for a smoke that your learned just how kindred a spirit he really was.

It was quiet, the only noise that of the video game pause music, which wasn't loud enough to drown out the fireworks and the noises from the police sirens in the city. Firework night was always bad for that too, the number of sirens blaring.

Another bang, louder than before because it hadn't come from the field across the way, it had come from next doors back garden. So loud you really did jump out of your skin, spilling a little of your beer on the floor, your squeak catching Bob's attention from where he sat a little apart from you on the sofa.

"Fuck sake," you winced, your voice trembling a little, you didn't want to cry, there was nothing to cry over but you were tired and emotionally frayed at the seams so one extra inconvenience like spilled beer on your tshirt, was enough to leave you shaking.

"Aw hey its really not your night is it," he said softly with a small smile reaching over to take your beer bottle from you, trying his best to help you. You flinched when his fingers touched yours but he didn't seem upset by that, just smiled again, an awkward little laugh. "If its any consolation I don't really like them either," he said with a little smirk when he returned to you a moment later with a tissue to help you mop up the spillage.

"Id like them if they weren't so noisy," you said with a self aware little smirk, shy when you looked up at him and saw his eyes studying your timid expression.

"Yeah," he said, "I could put up with them then I guess," you giggled at him then, only to be cut off by yet another bang right outside the window. "Your neighbours are dicks by the way," he said then, grinning and looking a little pleased with himself when you laughed at him, your eyes lighting up, pretty and smiling back at him. He thought it was the happiest you'd looked all evening and for that he felt very proud of himself.

"Why couldn't they have just gone across the field," you whined making him chuckle, his hand instinctively reaching for your knee when another set of explosions went off outside. You shuddered and bit down on your lip, biting a little too hard and drawing blood. "Typical," you mumbled tasting the blood and licking your lips, "god you must think am such a fuckin child," you simpered, knowing that your sulking wasn't going to help the childish image you were building for yourself.

At least you'd met Bob before, at least he'd seen you behave like an adult at least once or twice before.

"I don't," he said rubbing your knee with his hand, watching you jump and flinch once more, catching the teary look in your eyes before he sighed. Did something he wouldn't usually have been brave or bold enough to do. "Come here lass you look like you need a hug," he nodded for you to shuffle closer to him, into his arms which, when you did, he closed around you and held you close to his chest.

You weren't usually particularly confident about this kind of thing either, talking to strangers, or people you didn't know so well. You definitely didn't have a habit of cosying up to them on your brothers settee, but something about the softness with which Bob had spoken to you, something about the way he held you, your back against his chest, his arms around your waist holding you secure like a seatbelt, made you feel stable and safe. When the next set of explosions sounded you felt him rest his chin on your shoulder, heard his voice low and gentle reassuring you.

"You're alright see, I've got you," he said softly, his arms around you steadying you.

"Uhuh," you breathed, your voice shaking a little, still timid, still on edge but certainly soothed by him.

After a moment you felt your heartbeat easing, felt yourself settling down, all your muscles finally beginning to relax, and even when the next set of fireworks went off outside you found it easier to settle down, leaning against him.

"You okay?" he asked, his lips brushing your ear accidentally when he spoke.

"yeah," you replied quietly, your fingers finding his though you weren't aware of what you were doing until you felt his hand respond to your touch. Until his fingers had laced with yours, "thanks," you said softly, "am not being a massive crybaby a promise," you started, paranoid again that that might be how you were coming across but he just smirked.

"Already said I don't think you are y/n," he chuckled, finding your desperation to defend yourself really quite cute, "not liking fireworks doesn't make you a baby," he said then, as if to clarify something, "loads of people hate them..."

"Yeah," you said softly, "I guess so..."

"Yeah," he smirked, "I know so," he said then giving your hand a little squeeze when he heard the back door open, the other lads probably coming back inside. "Stop being so hard on yourself lass," he said, his voice drowned out by the chatter and laughter of the other four returning.

You felt your cheeks burning when your big brother laid eyes on the pair of you cuddled up at the end of the sofa like that, but he just smirked, a knowing smirk, like he wasn't even really that surprised.

"You grafting me wee sister Bob?" he raised his brow, teasing smile on his lips, embarrassing his friend and you, though you did your best to stammer and speak up in Bob's defence.

"A was upset" you said, flinching at the sound of another ambulance siren whizzing past the front window. Johnny just smirked and nodded back to the television, "you alright now Mouse?" he asked you the childhood nickname suddenly even more embarrassing for you than it had been before.

"Better yeah," you said softly, catching the small smile on your brothers lips, knowing that he understood what you meant.

As the evening dragged out the fireworks didn't get any better, but your brother and his mates proved a good enough distraction to ease you through the evening, Johnny, Van, Benji and Larry all getting far too competitive for mario kart, the four of them swearing and calling eachother all names under the sun, saving the worst names for the computer that kept beating them.

You watched from where you sat, cuddled up to Bob, his arms still wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, every now and then he'd mumbled something to you, to make you laugh or to calm you down after a particularly sharp start, not once making you feel bad for your easily frightened nature.

And as it got later, and you drunk your way through several more beers, the two of you settled down together, leaning into one another with more confidence than before, so that when the others gave up on video games and put a dvd on, you found yourself drifting off to sleep resting against Bob's shoulder, your heard turned so that your face nuzzled into his neck, his soft musky aftershave lulling you with every breath you took. And as you let your eyes flutter shut, you felt him bow his head, his chin resting in your hair, his lips pushing the softest of kisses to your forehead the next time a firework made you jump.

[mandelene]

Dude I just BINGED all of your drabbles ahhh they’re all so good!! I have never read an au with Arthur as a doctor AND a father. I love how you write him and Francis together, you do a great job balancing them out and not putting either one too far into stereotypes, they’re such relationship power couple goals!!!! Also I don’t have a ton of familiarity with the health industry and am reasonably healthy, but omg all of the health/hospital focused ones fascinate me, you are very knowledgeable! I am embarrassed to admit I had not known how serious asthma can be (someone please hug Matt for me). Another one of your stories in particular stood out to me, a while back you wrote something with Alfred having epilepsy, and I don’t have that condition but in college a friend of mine did. I knew this about her for several years, and when I asked she talked me through what to do if it ever happened, but the first time I actually saw her have a full on seizure I admit I was freaked the ef out. Thankfully I wasn’t the only one there (and our other friend is way cooler headed than me lol) cause it was fight or flight or freeze and I was fully on freeze mode 😂 Seeing someone you care about in physical distress, especially when you know they have no say in the matter and probably won’t remember it, is alarming to say the least. It’s got me thinking of Al’s life after diagnosis, he has things mostly under control, but seizures still occasionally happen, like they do. And like, Matt knows what Al’s diagnosis is, and theoretically what to do, but the first time he sees Alfred seize, they’re just like, just at home playing video games or something and neither of their dads are around to help. Even when Arthur and Francis come home and Alfred is recovered (but tired) I feel like Matt would still be freaking out and trying to pretend like he wasn’t. Like even if they were older teens he would try to sneakily check on Al at night to make sure he’s okay 🥺 (also sidenote but I can totally imagine adult Alfred having a seizure alert dog who is just the cutest with all sorts of buttons and patches on his little halter vest) ANYWAY WOW I kinda really went off on a massive word vomiting spree there, hope I haven’t taken up too much of your time. You’re amazing! Keep being awesome!

Oh, my gosh -- thank you so much for the lovely words! 💞 Thanks for binging my stories, and I'm so glad you enjoyed them. :) And honestly, I don't know that much about healthcare -- I just try to make it sound believable enough lol. I'm sure I make lots of errors.

I hope I grow up to be old and chronically grumpy but still in love with my spouse like Arthur and Francis are with each other lol. And Matthew always deserves all the hugs for being a sweetheart. 😂 Asthma is generally mild for most people as long as it's "controlled," but it can also be life-threatening -- it's different for everyone and depends on what triggers you + how severe the attacks are.

Seeing a friend in distress can definitely be scary -- it's a good thing you and your other friend were able to deal with the situation! The first time I saw someone having a seizure, I was in middle school, and I was definitely frightened as well. It's natural to freeze up and not know what to do. But I try to remind myself that the worst thing you can do is panic when someone needs you to be there for them, so I'll attempt to seem like the calm and level-headed one even though I'm freaking out on the inside lol.

Thank YOU for being awesome and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day. 😊 Thanks again for all of the sweet feedback!

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 1

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go... 

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2770

Part One: Faced with Foolishness

         “Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.

        “Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.

        “So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.

         “Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”

         “And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.

         “Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.

        “I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.

        “Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.

        Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.

        She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.

        “Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.

         Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.

        Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.

        Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.

        She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.

        Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.

        Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.

        “Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.

        “Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.

        Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.

        “If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.

        “But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.

        “You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”

        Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.

        Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.

        For better or worse, they were sisters.

        Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.

        “Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.

         “Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.

        “John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.

        She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.

        This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.

        Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.

        “Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”

        “Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.

        “Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.

        Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.

        Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.

        Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.

        Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.

        “Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.

        “So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”

        “Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.

        Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.

        “Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.

        “How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.

        “Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.

        “Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn​

[oceanselevenism]

If you're still doing them maybe number 12 with both the ocean's siblings and their partners?

hell yeah!! i’ve put it under the cut :)) it is Very Tangentially holiday-sweater-related but it is too long to not post now! hope you enjoy, and happy holidays :))

It’s the first Christmas they’ve spent together in... nearly a decade and a half, actually. The years had flown by, blurring into a mess of run-ins and arguments and you stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine, but hey, Danny can’t fault his sister for wanting to make up for lost time. No, he can’t fault her (after all, if she had been the one to fake her death, he’d probably have moved into her house for a week, just to make sure she didn’t do it again) but he can make fun of her, so that’s what he does. “Aw, you really did miss me,” he says when she gives him and Rusty perfunctory hugs on her way into his house (Lou just claps them both on the shoulder, and he’s not sure whether to feel snubbed or relieved). “I can’t believe my dear sister actually cares,” he tells her when she brings him a mug of cocoa, ingredients nabbed from some billionaire in Germany. “Pure family bonding for the whole family,” he remarks when she goes off on a drunken, expletive-filled tangent about the Met Gala’s security over a game of poker (they’ve given up on trying to enforce the no-cheating rule, and he’s pretty sure Lou takes the opportunity to peek at Debbie’s cards). But in all honesty, he can’t keep up the ribbing; it really is good to see her, even if she definitely gets along better with Rusty (she’s told him as much, and right to his face, too) and the third day ends in a bitter, wine-fueled not-argument about their mother and their father and they themselves. But on the fourth morning Danny gets up early (it’s five in the goddamn morning, why the fuck has Lou already left a note on the counter saying gone on a run) to make latkes, and when Debbie comes downstairs she scoops out a dollop of his favorite sour cream instead of her usual applesauce, so unless her latke preferences have done a complete 180 since the last time he’s seen her, they’ve forgiven each other.

She and Lou volunteer to go on a grocery run that evening, and Danny’s glad; he hasn’t had the chance to jump Rusty’s bones in, like, five days (turns out cleaning up for houseguests takes up way more time than anticipated) (hey, the only people they’ve had over in years have been the crew from the Benedict job, and he’s heard Reuben threaten to shit on Turk’s feet, they don’t need to clean up for them). And for a minute, as Rusty pins him up next to the to-be-composted bag that is currently overflowing with potato scraps, the only thought in his head is the usual why didn’t we do this sooner. But then Rusty pulls back-- “Rus,” Danny complains-- and he tilts his head in that We Need To Talk manner. Which would be hot, if not for the fact that Rusty probably wants to talk about Debbie.

“You’re good, right?”

“We were never on bad terms.”

“Liar.”

“Well, hostile terms, maybe,” Danny amends. “But never bad.”

Rusty shifts, adjusting his forearms so it’s more like they’re just two good pals having a conversation three inches from each others’ faces instead of two good pals about to do very unsanitary things in a kitchen, and says, “I think you’re putting too much water under the bridge.”

“What am I, a Dutch engineer?”

“You’re very funny.”

“I know I am. Now, are we gonna--”

The door opens. Danny swears. “We were gone for twenty minutes,” Debbie says. “Are you that desperate?” Danny regrets going for the open-concept first floor, and he regrets it even more as Rusty pushes himself off with an air of utmost nonchalance.

“Here,” Lou says, lobbing a ball of fabric at Rusty. Her aim is remarkable, and Danny almost asks if she ever played softball before deciding he likes his well-being more than teasing his sister’s motorcycle-riding, brass-knuckle-owning girlfriend. It’s fine; next to him, Rusty huffs an amused laugh at the unsaid comment anyway. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

Rusty unfolds the fabric to reveal a truly hideous (and possibly offensive) Christmas sweater. It’s got red sleeves, a green torso, and a large, colorful fruitcake emblazoned on the stomach. Above it, in red and yellow, is text that reads FRUIT CAKE. “I love it,” Rusty says, pressing his lips together in that way that says he’s trying his damndest not to laugh. “It’s perfect.”

Lou opens her coat to reveal her own sweater, hers saying Ho Ho Homo. “I thought the theme was appropriate.”

“And for you, dearest brother,” Debbie says, pulling an atrociously-colored wad of wool out of a paper bag and chucking it at him, “you get the best of both worlds.”

With a mounting sense of horror, he recalls the year that he insisted on putting teal and orange streamers across the house, because it’s Hanukkah and Christmas mixed! That was the last year their parents had lived in the same house; Danny used to joke that it had been the final nail in the coffin for their mother. He pinches an edge of the cloth between two fingers and lets the rest fall open. It’s a Miami Dolphins holiday sweater. A teal-and-orange, festively-patterned Miami Dolphins sweater. Oh, his Boston-bred father would be frothing at the mouth. “We’re in Canada,” Danny says, equal parts shocked and awed. “How the hell did you get this here so quick? We were supposed to be meeting in Quebec until three days ago--”

“Danny, please learn what priority shipping is,” Debbie says. “Now c’mon. Wear it.”

There’s no way he can back out of this. If he refuses, she’ll just play the I thought you were dead card. He’s never regretted a decision more.

He puts on the sweater. Rusty-- his partner, his right hand, the love of his life-- wolf-whistles.

“I’m divorcing you,” Danny announces.

“Don’t worry,” Lou says with a grin, and is that her phone oh fuck she’s got a picture-- “Debbie, take off your coat.”

With the air of someone who has suffered the weight of the world, Debbie shrugs off her jacket. She’s wearing a matching sweater, and the dolphin on this one has a lovingly-embroidered smiling mouth stitched into it. Danny tries very, very hard not to laugh. “Shut it,” Debbie warns him.

“Oh, I’m not saying a thing,” Danny replies.

“We actually did get groceries,” Lou says, turning back to the door, “so--”

“Lemme give you a hand,” Rusty says. “Let these two bask in the joy of their new sweaters.”

“Fuck off,” Danny and Debbie say in unison. Rusty grins, cheery as ever, and leaves Danny’s side to follow Lou out the door.

“Great gift,” Danny says. “I’ll be laughed at by Reuben for the rest of my days.”

Debbie snorts, walking into the kitchen and rooting around in his cabinets. “Well, actually he’d-- wait, please tell me you didn’t, like, have gross old people se--”

“Shut up, Deborah,” Danny replies, feeling his neck heat up. “I’m only two years older than you. And no.” He refrains from adding on a “not this time.”

“Thank God,” Debbie says, pulling a glass out of the cupboard. “Anyway. Reuben’s not gonna laugh at you, he’s just gonna talk about your embarrassing baby stories in whatever groupchat you people have.”

Danny wonders how his baby sister got to be cooler than him. It’s very distressing. “That’s worse.”

“Yep,” she says, putting the pitcher down and picking her now-full glass up. She leans on the wall across from him, sipping her water, and narrows her eyes at him. “Are we, y’know... good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Danny says. Besides the thirty years of vaguely pretending the other didn’t exist.

“I’m not gonna answer that,” Debbie says. “But... I’d just like to make sure. ‘Cause you’re the only not-completely-insufferable blood relation I have.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment; Danny picks at a loose teal thread, trying to think of how best to phrase the thoughts rattling around in his head. “I don’t hate you,” he finally says. “And I don’t dislike you, either. You’re a pretty good sister. And a great thief.”

“I know,” she replies. “I’m not gonna say it back, ‘cause then you’re gonna get an inflated ego.”

“Works for me,” Danny says, grinning a little.

“I guess it’s just... I mean, I let all the old resentment get in the way of, y’know. Having a decent relationship, personally or professionally.”

Danny nods. He’s still got the scar from the time they both went after the Ruby of the Isle; he’d won, but just barely, and only because he had Rusty and she hadn’t found Lou. But at the end of the day, neither of them have tried to kill the other, and they still did grow up together, playing in Atlantic City casinos and building sand castles under the boardwalk. “I think we’re too old for that now.”

“You’re the old one here,” Debbie replies, no bite in the remark.

“Only two years,” he reminds her. “But I did the same thing as you, letting petty grudges get in the way of family, and for that I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.”

“Thanks, Debs.” He frowns. “They’re taking a really long time to get the groceries, aren’t they?”

As if summoned, the door opens, and Rusty and Lou, each with a measly two bags in their hands, walk in. And Rusty has his phone in his hands. “Rus, I swear--”

“Too late,” Rusty grins, as the shutter sound rings out through the living room. “That outfit has already been immortalized.”

“Have I already said I’m divorcing you? I’m divorcing you.”

“Does it count as fratricide if he’s your brother-in-law?” Debbie asks.

“Disproportionate reactions,” Rusty accuses. “Besides, I’ve already sent it to Linus.”

Danny’s eyes widen. “Not Linus.”

“You heard me.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a text from Linus Caldwell himself, consisting of a single thumbs-up emoji and two grinning cats. “You’re all terrible people. Terrible, terrible people.”

(the sweater rusty is wearing is real) (as is lou’s) (and the ocean siblings’)

[pennie-umbra]

The Last Piece Left

This was supposed to be fluff the first time I had this idea. But then I decided that it could be fluffy with angst in the end. But then I got to actually write it and it became angst with even more angst in the end, so... hope you enjoy

I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: For the first time since he left the Others, Virgil reunites the courage to talk to an old friend, but neither of them seem to know how to feel about each other. Or how to not make things worse. 

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Warnings: swearing, mentions to death and dead bodies, angst (does that count as a warning?), fight, sex mention

Word Count: 2287

“I told them my name” Remus looked away from the canvas in front of him, just to see who he once called a friend standing in the middle of his room, with an expression as abstract as the paint Creativity was trying to finish. So many feelings in such a small space it became impossible to understand. 

“Ok? Good for you, I don’t give a fuck” replied, focusing his gazes on anything except Virgil’s eyes, doing his best to keep his emotions simple. We hate each other. He abandoned us. That should be enough. Virgil stayed in silence for what seemed like a lifetime. “What do you want, emo?”

“Thomas painted his hair” he started.

“Yeah, I noticed. Purple doesn’t really go well with green. Unless we’re talking about a wound. Or a dead body. Nevermind, purple and green are awesome together”

“Yeah, I really liked the hair, actually. I was thinking… I mean, you and Deceit have green and yellow. The core sides also have colors. I’m kinda tired of the black” 

“Are you? I think it matches you, boring, quickly establishes that you’re the villain, having been washed in at least some months”

“I just want you to teach me how to sew,” Virgil replied, already starting to lose his temper. Calm down, he said to himself,he may be hard to deal with, but you are here to help, not make things worse. 

“Roman knows how to sew, probably way better than me. Do you think I should add like, blood red or more like a wine red?” He pointed to the canvas, answering his own question before Virgil could do so “Yeah, blood red of course, the classic”

“I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Also, I don’t think Princey’s style really matches mine” Remus wishes he was as honest to himself as he was with other people. He knew deep down it would hurt more to do that. He knew that getting a bite of what used to be their friendship would just make him more hungry for something that didn’t even exist anymore. He knew it would probably hurt both of them even more. But someone wanted his help for the first time in… well. Virgil wanted his help. 

“Ok, get out of my room” said, finally turning to Anxiety, who tried to pretend those words didn’t send a wave of disappointment though his body. 

“Of course... This was a mistake” mumbled, starting to sink out.

“No dude! Fuck, I mean, like, intrusive thoughts and anxiety is never a good mix, let’s go to your room or a neutral room” quickly explained. 

“Oh” Virgil came back, seeming surprised “I can take your room just fine, dude, I’m used to it”

“It got way worse since the last time you were here, trust me, Gerard Gay” Virgil looked around. The view did look messier, if it was possible. The floor felt like skin, but with something off. He could hear whispers in the back of his consciousness, to which he could never identify a source. The smell was less like trash can and more like a trash can on fire where a corpse had been discarded some days ago. But he could take all that. He could take hours in that room, the same way Remus could take hours in his room. 

“I don’t see how”

“As much as I would love to see Thomas hyperventilating because his anxiety can’t stop thinking about how people are going to invade his house and slowely murder him if he doesn’t check all the locks at least five times, I’m pretty sure you don’t want that headache. And it will be a hell of a headache as soon as the room reaches your mind”

“Fine, My room, then?”

“Yeah, I’m in need of some new spiderwebs anyway” 

Virgil’s room didn’t change much since The Duke was there for the last time, except for some new Disney posters, probably from Roman and a drawing on the desk right beside anxiety’s bed. It was terribly colorful and childish, with all the three core sides and Virgil. Patton, then. Of course it was Patton. Anxiety immediately took the gift out of Creativity’s sight. 

“I’m not gonna eat it or anything, y’know?”

“It’s personal”

“Of fucking course it is” He could see how Patton seemed better compared to Janus. But they didn’t need a stupid - and shitty, let’s be honest - card to prove how much they cared for, everything was just so fucking stupid and boring with the core sides, why would Virgil fucking chose to be with them?! What was wrong with him?! What did Remus do wrong?! “It’s really shitty, but I guess daddy has always been bad at everything he did”

“Could you keep it down? For at least thirty fucking minutes?” Virgil snapped, clenching his fists and looking at Remus with pure danger in his eyes. 

“Do you have a… “He looked around, wishing he could just stop fucking talking for at least one damn second “A sketch. For how you want your hoodie to be? 

“I do, actually” Virgil kept his eyes away from his old friend, the tension in the room so heavy it could be cut, grabbing one of the drawings on the same table Patton’s gift was and giving it to the duke. It was… a concept. Remus conjured a pen, turning the paper and using it’s other side to make a more clear image, giving it back to anxiety.

“How about this?” Virgil tried not to smile, but his eyes betrayed him by shining. It was perfect.

"It 's cool”

“Great” he then started to reunite all the materials. One of Virgil’s older hoodies, purple fabric, white and black threads and…

“Why a spinning wheel?” 

"It 's cooler” replied, shrugging. 

“If I touch the needle will I also sleep for one hundred years?”

“Who knows? Now sit your ass down, emo, this will take time”

“Ok, what do I do first?” said, sitting on his bed and waiting for instruction. Remus flinched until the realization struck him. 

“Wait, you actually want me to teach you? Buddy, I’m the worst teacher ever and you know that” And also I’m a selfish motherfucker who knows very well that if you never learn it every time you need to fix it you will have to ask for my help. 

“It can’t be that hard”

“If you actually want to do something decent, it will take at least some days. Do you want The Duke in your room for days? I wouldn’t mind it, we could even have some fun” He smiled maliciously. He was right. Virgil wouldn’t want any of the core sides to know he still talked to Remus. Especially not Roman. 

“Fine. How long will it take for you to do it?”

“One hour” He could do it in a couple seconds, actually, but sshhh. 

“Ok” Virgil looked down, seeming almost… embarrassed. Creativity grabbed all the materials, conjured a bench, sat down and started to work. He tried to stay in silence, but it was almost painful to do so

“How are the core sides doing? Anything interesting, if that’s possible?”

“Are you trying to do small talk?” Virgil almost smiled. The only one of the Others good with that was Deceit and they all knew that. 

“I’m trying to keep it down like you said to protect your now light side ears or whatever” Virgil chucked, rolling his eyes. 

“What was that painting about?”

“Oh… I was trying to do an abstract representation of the emotions decay and rottenness bring”

“Sounds like you. How was it going?”

“Like shit. Not literally, even though that’s a good idea, did you know that when we die our whole body, like, relax, including our stomach muscles and all? And yeah, we shit ourselves, so go to the bathroom before you die, I guess” Virgil flinched with that unwanted information.

“I feel like you told me that before”

“I probably did, it’s pretty basic. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, I haven’t being able to paint anything good”

“I thought it was pretty nice” For Remus’ standards. 

“Sure you did. But really, how are those dorks? Did someone already explained to Daddy what sex it or nobody had the courage yet?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“Of course!” 

“Nobody did, obviously, but I’m considering, I like Patton, but if he refers to adulthood as adultery one more time I’ll lose it” Remus snorted. 

“He does what?”

“Long story, dude”

“Holy fuck” He laughed “He’s definitely doing that on purpose”

“What would he win by doing that?” A couple of answers came to Remus’ mind but he was sure VIrgil would hate all of them. Still, he had to choose one, that how things work “Maybe he likes fucking with you guys”

“Not everybody finds it funny to manipulate the people around them like Deceit” Oh, here we go again. 

“Patton and Janus are not that different”

“Name one thing they have in common” fortunately for Remus, the first answer that came to his mind was not that bad. 

“Well, if you’re right, they both don’t know where babies come from” Virgil seemed divided between keeping arguing and smiling. He went with the second option. You can do it, Virge. You can not screw everything. 

“I guess so. But Patton is definitely better with hugs” 

“Which one of the light sides would you fuck if you had to chose?”

“Where did that come from?!” Remus shrugged.

“Just curious”. 

“I won’t fucking answer that!” exclaimed, his face starting to get red.

“For me it would be Logan. Or maybe you. Do you count as a Light side already?” Anyway, Logan must be amazing. It’s almost like fucking a teacher and I always wanted to know how it feels like” Virgil was about to order him to shut up, but he knew Remus enough to know it would only make things worse, so he went with a more effective technique.  

“How is Deceit doing?” Remus raised his eyebrows, the question surprising enough to stop his line of thought. 

“Fine? Why do you care?”

“I mean… are you guys good?” 

“As always”

“Haven’t he been… hurting you or anything like that?”

“Janus never hurted me, dude, what the fuck?”

“Except that he did. Except that he does it everyday. You just don’t want to admit it” Remus looked into his eyes, frowning.

“Emo, what is this all about?” 

“What do you mean?” Based on how he focused his gaze on the floor, Remus raised his eyebrows even more. 

“This is not just about the fucking hoodie, is it?” Virgil stayed in a seeming never ending silence.

“They accepted me, Remus.You guys said it was impossible for the core sides to accept us, but here I am. They could accept you too” Oh, so that’s what this is about. Remus went to one of his rare silences, which were always scarier than his loudest noises. 

“We already talked about this, emo”

“But that was before! When we thought they all hated us! But they don’t! Logan is welcoming and Roman is trying and Patton… Patton is willing to receive us with his arms open”

“No, he’s fucking not. Patton hates me so fucking much I’m pretty sure he would get rid of me the second he had the fucking chance and would still convince himself it was the right thing to do” He got up without realizing, putting all his efforts into not crying like a pathetic child. 

“I think you’re mistaken him for Deceit” Virgil also got on his feet.

“Janus, his name is fucking Janus, why can’t you just call him for his fucking name?! He yelled. 

“He’s a liar, Remus! He doesn’t care about you or any of us! He just wants to… Follow his plans or whatever”

“Oh, do you think Patton cares about you?!”

“Actually yes, I know he fucking does”

“Well, yeah, maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t, but if I get there? Not only will he get scared and kick me out, he will also be angry at you for bringing the freak here into his perfect little world of sunshine and rainbows, so thank you so much, but Janus at least was there for me when I needed it, unlike those dicks or you!” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

“I should have known this was a mistake” Virgil said, letting his shoulders drop with the height of defeat. 

“Yeah it was. Here is your fucking hoodie” He finished it with a snap of his fingers at threw it at Virgil, sinking out right after. “Have fun with your new friends, Virgil” 

Slowly, anxiety grabbed his new costume. It was amazing, Comfortable, spooky, creative. And it was so… detailed and clearly done carefully, It was… He started crying.Ugly crying, with the tears scratching his throat to came with violent sobs, their warm burning as they fell down his face, wetting his own clothes and the new one in his hands, the pain in his chest seeming like a monster was tearing apart his whole soul, trying to destroy his heart, it hurted more than anything that he ever felt. 

He knew, deep down, it was impossible to have a real famILY like that. But he also knew he was a hypocrite and it was easier to pretend things were simpler. It was easier to pretend he didn’t need Remus. Or Janus, by that extent. It was easier to pretend they weren’t family. But not easy enough for him to not hold on to all there was left from what they once called a friendship.

 He held the hoodie tighter.

[delicatelyherdreams]

Pragma(tic) 1: Her Morning Takes a Turn

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 6217

Warnings: Language

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous Prologue: The Gods Live

The sun was golden against your skin, filling it with warmth and color you rarely ever got. Birds chirped, filling the air with song, and people chatted warmly all around you. You could hear laughter, squealing, sounds of joy and happiness. It was so different from what you were used to.

You exhaled sharply as you opened your eyes, turning your head on a swivel to observe your surroundings.

The open-aired cafe was nestled in a quaint corner of Olympus. Minor gods occupied the tables around you, some accompanied by nymphs or other sprites, others by children, and others still alone. No matter their social situation, everyone looked happy and content. Small children ran between the tables, playing tag and laughing, while their mothers talked and chatted over brunch. You recognized some of the gods and goddesses around.

Peter, a dryad, was at a table with some of his friends. They were all crowded around a phone and laughing to themselves. They seemed to be watching a funny video. If you had to guess, it was probably a silly trend or meme from the Mortal World.

Hope, the goddess of victory, was chatting with her friend Scott, the god of the home and hearth. Both of them had a sandwich and a cup of coffee straight from the Mortal World in front of them, though the food was almost completely forgotten as they talked to each other, deeply engrossed in their conversation.

Small children, nymphs and naiads, ran between the tables in games of tag, squealing as one was dubbed “it” and began to chase the others. They laughed with childish ecstasy, displaying the joy they had in abundance.

The whole area was just alive and warm. It was so foreign to you, but you had to admit that you didn’t mind it. 

The sound of bickering voices drew you from your observations, and you turned your head to the two women before you.

The blonde, your beloved youngest sister, goddess of the sky and queen of the gods, Carol, was sitting up straight, her shoulders rolled back proudly. She had a smug smile on her face; she was obviously winning the argument—something about a dress she said she was going to wear to the Winter Solstice Gala that was coming up in a few months.

The redhead, your younger sister and goddess of the sea, Natasha, was a little more agitated, though it was a sort of playful frustration. She was hunched over with her eyes narrowed at her sister as she insisted, “Carol, that’s my dress.” 

Carol shook her head, her smile only widening. “No, it’s mine. I bought it from a noble lady in London. I remember it as clear as if it was a century ago.”

Nat arched an eyebrow, her lips curling down in a sour frown. “Are you sure you remember it correctly? I could’ve sworn that I bought that dress a couple centuries ago. No, I know I bought it from Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine in 1160.”

You scrunched up your nose. Twelfth-century English fashion? Definitely not your cup of tea. But you remembered the dress vividly. It was a green thing that really complimented Nat’s eyes and hair but with a style that did not meet your preferences.

Your sisters continued to argue about whose dress it was.

You, meanwhile, watched them with amused eyes, shaking your head as they bickered. Your sisters were always ones to fight constantly, though it was always in good nature. They argued about the silliest things that happened millennia ago—who a goat sacrifice was meant for, who got the sea and who got the sky, who got to be the patron goddess of this city-state or that one—and now, they argued about whose clothes were whose. It was comforting to see that some things never changed over the centuries. Every brunch consistently ended with them bickering over the smallest things. Their sandwiches and mugs of their favorite coffees were long forgotten as they got into it. You’d learned to live with it and just let them duke it out; so long as they didn’t actually kill anyone that is.

But listening to them bicker eventually grew boring and tedious and you’d had enough. You groaned and leaned back in your chair, shrugging off your black blazer which had grown sweltering hot in the sun as you went. Now just in a dark grey tank top, your pleated black pants, and a pair of black flats, you felt much cooler and were ready to end the arguing and your misery. “Come on, both of you,” you called, cutting them off. 

They paused their argument and turned towards you, their gazes questioning and demanding as to why you had interrupted them.

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “Are you kidding me right now? Guys, this is like the only time I can see you for the next month and you want to fight about something stupid and childish?” You grinned at them, your eyes sparkling with a teasing glint. “I wonder why I let you two pretend to be older when you’re so damn immature.”

Carol gasped with mock offense. “You’re only older than us by a decade or two.”

“A decade or two is all it takes, my dear youngest sister. Don’t let the power of your queenship go to your head; I’ll always have sibling superiority over you. And, as the eldest, I say no more bickering.”

“But—”

“It’s Nat’s dress. She did buy it from the queen. There, argument over and you can stop bickering now.”

Nat laughed with an elated “Ha!”

Carol huffed, the breath from her mouth ruffling the hair that framed her face, and gave you an exasperated smile. “Fine, it’s Nat’s. I’ll give it back. We’ll stop bickering. What do you want to talk about since you’re so opposed to hearing our arguing?”

You simply shrugged. Ninety percent of the time you were cool with any topic of conversation, even if it meant listening to their banter, but not today. 

It was one of the few times you dared to venture out of your realm. Being the Queen of the Underworld gave you little to no time to leave. There were always so many things to do and duties to attend to that you rarely made it out for brunch with your sisters on Olympus. Occasions like this were supposed to be a time for you three to catch up, gossip, and bond, not to bicker endlessly about pointless things.

“I’m honestly not sure,” you admitted.

Carol opened her mouth to respond, probably with a snarky remark about how you ought to know what you want to talk about before interrupting an already started conversation, but Natasha beat her to the punch.

“Hey, how’s Mom doing?” she asked, her eyes curious and her posture hunched in to listen. “You saw her last weekend, right? She doing well?”

You nodded, a fond smile pulling at your lips. Out of all your siblings, you were probably the closest to your mother, Rhea. She made a trip downstairs to see you almost every weekend for brunch and to catch up. You’d say she liked coming down so often because it was out of the way and far quieter and calmer than either the Mortal World or Olympus, but you knew it was because she loved your dog. “She’s doing fine.”

Carol leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the table, suddenly very interested in this new topic of conversation. As the youngest of you three, she probably had the least amount of time with your mother. But, then again, she was the only one who didn’t get digested and got to see Mom the most in the early years. “Is she still working in that mortal hospital?” Carol asked.

You nodded. “Still in the labor ward. She’s the ‘best labor and delivery nurse they’ve ever had’ last I heard.”

“Well of course she is. She is the titaness of motherhood and ease, among other things,” Nat remarked. She shook her head. “I just wish she’d spend more time up here rather than with the mortals.”

“You know that some of the gods don’t like her,” you murmured. “She’s a titan. They don’t trust her. She’d rather be among the mortals who don’t know her for who she is and help them out.” You shrugged. “Anyways, Carol, how’re your queenly duties going?” You wanted to change the topic away from your mother. While you loved talking to her, it was always weird talking about her with your sisters. They didn’t know her like you did; they didn’t know her in the beginning.

Carol hummed. “Oh, you know, they’re going fine. I have to deal with people’s shit all day every day. You’d think that we gods, being as old as we are, would’ve already worked out our problems by now. I mean, Wanda and Pietro still bicker about who’s the better archer, Loki still plays rude pranks, I can barely keep the newer gods in line. I swear, once they find out they’re immortal, it’s a shit-show. They take on the most daring dares and wreak havoc on the Mortal World any chance they get. I know they don’t always mean to be a pain in my ass, but it happens. Oh! But did you hear? The Muses are planning a concert. They’ve got music from…”

And that was about the point when you tuned her out. You didn’t always care about what responsibilities came with ruling Olympus, but you did enjoy seeing her getting excited about the things in her life. She might’ve been a queen, but she was still your baby sister. 

As Carol continued to rant and rave about the concert, you failed to notice Natasha sliding her chair closer to you until she was right on top of you.

“So, (y/n).”

You jumped in your seat. She’d snuck up on you, quiet as the gentle sea she ruled over. You glanced sideways at her, your lips curling back in a sneer. You knew that look on her face and you didn’t like it one bit. “Nat… Don’t you even think about it.”

Natasha smirked, her outward expression cool and collected, but her green eyes roaring like waves on a stormy night with devious plans. “Oh? Think about what, my dearest sister?” Her voice was sickly sweet and practically dripping with honey. 

You narrowed your eyes, your heart dropping in your chest as it steeled itself against what was coming. “You look like you’re trying to play matchmaker and thinking about setting me up with someone again,” you spat. “Well my answer is what it’s been for the past two thousand years: no.”

Carol had stopped talking about the Muses and was now looking at you with pitiful and sad eyes. “(y/n)...”

“Don’t ‘(y/n)’ me, Care. I’ve told you time and time again, I’m fine. I don’t need to go out on a date, I don’t need a boyfriend or a girlfriend, I’m perfectly happy alone.” You didn’t need any of the trouble that came with a steady relationship. You’d had your fill of that over the years. Hands running down your body, lips kissing your mouth, flesh pressed against flesh… You shuddered.

“We know,” Nat said as she tried to placate you, “and we admire you for your strength. ‘You’re a strong independent woman who don’t need no man’ and all, but we think it might be good for you to go out and try to meet someone. That way you wouldn’t have to be so alone down in the Underworld.”

You frowned. “But I’m not alone down there. I have Cerber—” 

“Cerberus,” they finished in unison.

“We know,” Natasha continued. “But we think you’d benefit from some human contact once in a while. We know you still see Mom, and that Clint and Pierce visit you on their errands, but most of the time… You’re all alone down there and we just think you’d be happier if you had someone. I know I’d have already lost my mind underwater if I didn’t have Bruce to keep me company, and Carol wouldn’t be able to stay sane if Maria wasn’t with her.”

Carol nodded in silent agreement, her eyes pleading. “We just want what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” You could feel small bits of agitation rising up in you as you stared them down. The world began to tint red in your sight.

Natasha bit at her lip as she stared you down. “(y/n),” she said, her voice taut and stiff with caution. “Your eyes.”

You turned towards her. 

Her body was rigid and alert, almost as if she was preparing to defend herself. She only took that stance when something made her nervous.

And that something was you.

You sighed and mumbled, “Sorry,” before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in through your nose. 

In, out. In, out. In, out.

When you opened your eyes again, the world had returned to its normal color and you were a little calmer. “Sorry,” you mumbled, your head dipping down in a nod. You heaved a sigh and pursed your lips. “Guys, look, I really appreciate you thinking about me and my happiness, but seriously, butt out of my love life. I don't need anybody; I’m perfectly capable of ruling the Underworld on my own.” You shifted in your seat and averted your eyes. “Besides, I don’t think anyone could really handle me right now.” Also, you had the feeling that no one could give you the long-lasting love you craved.

Both your sisters went quiet, their eyes downcast and solemn. 

You couldn’t help but feel bad for telling them off again. You knew that they just wanted what was best for you, but at the same time, you knew yourself better than anyone. You knew you didn’t need to be set up and that, when you were ready, you’d find someone yourself.

You cleared your throat and began to pull your blazer back on. “I should probably get going now,” you said, grabbing a black handbag that was sitting beside your chair and pulling the strap onto your shoulder. “Lots of things to attend to down under. It’s time for the weekly check on Tartarus.” You inhaled sharply and rolled your eyes, hoping to convey a feeling of exasperation to them. You had no intention of letting them know that you were over godly contact and ready to go home to peace and solitude.

Natasha chuckled. “I don’t know why you don’t send Pierce to do it. He’s capable.”

“Yeah, he’s capable, but you know how persuasive our father can be if he gets into somebody’s head. And, although Alexander is a great god of death, I don’t necessarily trust his mental strength against him. It’s just best if I do it. I know his tricks, I know his lies, I know how to resist him.” You gave your sisters a small smile. “Take care, you two. Tell Maria and Bruce I said ‘hi,’ and don’t go burning down the world before our next brunch. The Underworld is full enough; we don’t need any early arrivals.” You stood up and pushed in your chair.

Carol stood up and made quick strides across the table to your side. With one fluid motion, she reached for you, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into a hug. She held you tight. “We miss you up here, (y/n). Please, don’t be a stranger, and come back more often.”

You hugged her back tightly. “I’ll try. When things start calming down again, I’ll come back.”

“Just make sure it’s before another half-decade has passed!” Nat called from her spot off to the side.

You pulled away from Carol and shot your other sister a teasing glare. “Then tell the Fates to stop throwing me curve balls and fucking up my life!” You slid over to her and hugged her as well. “Don’t forget, you can always come down to see me instead. I know it’s dark and gloomy down there, but I’ve remodeled my house and I think it’s really nice.”

“So you’re out of your gothic phase?”

You could feel your cheeks heat up. “Gods, I thought we agreed to never speak about that again. I liked the architecture!”

“Mhmm, and the black clothes, and the heavy eyeliner,” Carol began to list, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh, shut up! The castle’s gone. No more gothic. Now it’s more modern. Have you ever seen those American houses where they’re an open concept, all sleek and box-like?”

Both your sisters nodded.

“It’s kinda like that.”

Natasha whistled. “Nice. Is it still black?”

“Of course.” You chuckled. “Could you imagine a bright yellow house in the middle of the Underworld?”

“It does sound ridiculous,” Carol admitted. 

“Exactly. The black is there to stay.” You smiled softly and took a small step away from your family. “I’ll see you both later.”

Carol’s lips twitched up in a sad smile as she brought a hand up to wave at you. “See you soon.”

Natasha simply nodded at you, a tiny smile of her own on her face.

And then you turned your back and walked away from them. You made your way to the cafe’s gate and pushed it open, making your exit.

It was a short walk back to the main road of Olympus. It was easy to know when you’d arrived because street vendors crowded the sides and people filled the streets. Gods, goddesses, nymphs, naiads, satyrs, and all other sorts of creatures bustled around, darting in and out from stall to stall. Families with children stopped to chit chat with each other, couples held hands as they browsed, and singular people shopped with a purpose. Everyone had a smile on their face, everyone was happy. For a normal person, the path would be almost impossible to navigate. 

But not for you.

The second you got within five feet of a nymph or naiad, they stiffened and the hairs on the back of their neck stood up. They sensed the death that surrounded you and instinctively inched away. Their heads were put on a swivel as they searched for the source of their discomfort and, when they saw you, they prickled further and took a step out of your way, clearing your path.

It used to bother you how they’d avoid you like the plague but now you’d come to accept it. You reeked like death; they sensed it; they didn’t like it. You learned almost two thousand years ago to not take it personally. They didn’t hate you, they just hated what you were and what you stood for. Besides, you never had to be stuck in foot traffic. 

You sauntered down the opening in the road, going as quick as you could so as not to disturb them any longer, but not in a rush. Though you knew you weren’t welcome by most of Olympus’ citizens, you quite enjoyed the feeling of the sun on your skin whenever you came. The feeling was alien to you, but it was pleasant enough to make you want to bask in it for as long as possible. 

You made your way up the road, slowly climbing closer and closer to the golden palace of the gods where your youngest sister lived. It was in her front yard where you could safely make your way home without pissing anybody off.

After all, the quickest way back to the Underworld was to have the ground swallow you up. The journey didn’t leave any gaping hole behind you—the ground always closed up after you sank in—but it did leave an Asphodel flower in your stead. 

Carol didn’t mind having the flowers dot the lawn of her palace. Most Olympians hated the sight of them and saw them only as a bad omen, but Carol knew there was nothing really wrong with the flower. The reason they got such a bad reputation was that they were linked to you. 

Asphodel flowers only grew in the Asphodel Meadows in the Underworld. Mortals believed they had a positive role in the Greek afterlife, but not the Olympians. To them, the immortals, anything related to the Underworld was taboo, almost like it was death itself. Things touched by death and the Underworld were considered dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. You learned a long time ago that if you let the ground swallow you up and plant a flower in your place, the area where you left would be avoided for decades even after the flower had died. It caused a lot of inconveniences for the Olympian people, so you just decided to avoid public places and go to your sister’s yard instead. It was cleaner and less of a nuisance for others that way.

You strolled into the palace’s yard, treading down towards the furthermost corner of the area. There, a small garden of Asphodel flowers lays perfectly still and undisturbed. They’d grown to be as tall as your waist and they shuffled as you moved about them. You tried to keep the garden as small as possible so as to not “contaminate” a large area. You stopped in the center of the garden and dug into your pocket. Your skin hit tiny seeds—Asphodel seeds—and you plucked one out before dropping it onto the grass. 

The seed sank into the dirt, disappearing almost immediately, and the ground rumbled beneath you as it began to tear itself apart. It caved in, carving out a tunnel for you to sink into.

You simply crossed your arms, closed your eyes, and rolled your neck to stretch. You’d made this journey so many times that the fall hardly phased you anymore. You remembered doing it the first couple of times and panicking as you fell. Now, it was as easy as taking a step. 

You dropped through layers upon layers of rock, finally breaking out into a chasm. Your feet hit the ground and you bent your knees to absorb the impact, straightening up when you were steady. You rose to your full height and stood tall, gazing down a mountain at the whole of the Underworld.

You’d been deposited right on the front stoop of your mansion. Perched on the top of a small mountain, you could see everything from the front door.

At the far reaches of your kingdom, you could see the place where the Cocytus, the River of Wailing fed into the Acheron, the River of Woe, which stood as the border between the Mortal World and the Underworld. The far bank of the Acheron was crowded with souls waiting for passage over the water and the near bank was organized with lines leading up to and disappearing into the judgment pavilion. From the pavilion, three lines branched out and led to the three sections of the Underworld: the Asphodel Meadows, Elysium, and Tartarus.

The Asphodel Meadows spanned the majority of the large chasm that was your domain. The flowers swayed without a breeze, instead moved by spirits who wandered aimlessly. It was a place for those who had led ordinary lives, not good enough to achieve Elysium, but not evil enough to deserve Tartarus. The Meadows were as calm as calm could be, perfect for walking your dog or lazing around on a rare free day. Billions of spirits resided there, all of them calm, gentle, and ordinary.

Elysium, with its warm atmosphere, beautiful gardens, and elaborate homes sat just off to the side of the Meadows, its entrance near the base of your mountain. Sanctioned off by towering gates and walls, it lay separate from the rest of the Underworld. It was the place where the best of the best lived after death, filled with kind, generous, and beautiful souls. The souls that had been reborn and achieved Elysium three times lived on the Isles of the Blessed which were three little islands that sat in the middle of a lake in the heart of Elysium. You loved walking down the streets in Elysium. Everyone was so friendly and not a soul shied away from you. They had no reason to fear death; after all, they were already dead. Some of the spirits that had been there long enough were friendly enough to invite you for dinner on the occasional evening when they’d catch you patrolling the streets or walking Cerberus. Those were the nights you enjoyed the most. Mrs. Thomas made a fantastic roast chicken. It was truly a good place to be.

And then there was Tartarus; the “pit”. You shuddered just thinking about that place. It was where the evil souls went when they died, a place of torture, punishment, misery, and pain. It was mainly managed by three of your lieutenants known as “the Furies.” When they weren’t pursuing the wicked in the Mortal World, they were overseeing the torture of the worst of the worst deep in the pit. It lay just beyond the main body of your realm, accessible only through a cave that carved a hole in the outermost wall of the chasm that was the Underworld. The Phlegethon, the River of Fire, with its angry red flames that leaped out at anybody who dared get close to it, flowed into the tunnel taking up half of its opening. The river flowed deep until the point when the tunnel opened up to a cave. Dark, sharp stalactites hung from the cave’s ceiling, ready to fall at any second and impale those beneath them. There was a hole in the middle of the ground that seemed endless, but really, it fed into the real Tartarus. The river flowed into the pit, turning into a waterfall as it roared down. It was a long way down, said to be “as far beneath Hades as heaven is above earth” if you read that epic The Iliad from some Greek guy named Homer. It was about a nine days’ fall to reach the bottom of the pit where the souls were tortured and the worst beings were imprisoned.

You’d only been down there once, millennia ago, when you locked up the bastard you called “Father” and his brothers Crius, Iapetus, Coeus, and Hyperion, and you never wanted to go down again. It was nothing but red and angry. The Phlegethon was even more violent down there than it was in the main Underworld as it tore through the terrain. Tartarus itself was like a whole new world. It was seemingly endless, but it only had the one exit. One could get lost and be trapped there for eternity if they weren’t careful.

It was at the far reaches of the pit, farther than any soul or spirit dared to venture, that you imprisoned your father and uncles, binding them with the strongest chains you could make and sealing them with every spell, curse, and enchantment that you could think of. Layer upon layer of protection was placed upon them, making it nearly impossible for them to escape. You separated the five of them and placed them as far apart from each other as you could so that they could not feed on each other’s strength and escape. Your uncles, as formidable of foes as they were, were no threat to you anymore. They’d gone dormant after the first thousand years or so, reserved to their fates; but not your father.

Kronos continued to fight against his restraints, trying every day to escape, spending as much strength as he could muster to fight your barriers against him. Over the centuries he had succeeded in breaking some of them, specifically the old ones you had placed when you’d first imprisoned him. He was always chipping away at them, trying to weaken them enough to break free to exact his revenge on you and your sisters.

But you’d never let that happen. That was one of the reasons you made your weekly ventures to the edge of the pit. From up above, you could cast more spells to strengthen and set more layers on his bindings. Every week you added more and more to his cage, replacing those he broke, rejuvenating those he damaged, and adding new ones as an extra precaution.

Your sisters were fair to wonder why you didn’t let your inferiors or lieutenants take care of this task for you, but you had your reasons.

For the first couple of years that you guarded his prison, you did let some underlings take care of it. Peggy, your second in command, best friend, and the goddess of magic, volunteered to take care of it while you worked to get the Underworld under control and install order. She did a good job of keeping the spells strong and watertight, but she wasn’t infallible.

Your father, the extremely powerful titan that he is, found ways to let his conscience escape and make its way up to the surface. He would get into her head and anyone else who got close and twist their thoughts around, slowly turning them to his side and against the gods.

It took you a decade to notice that Peggy was under his control. You’d had your suspicions that she wasn’t herself, but it was when she tried to pull a knife on you and slit your throat that your suspicions were confirmed. It broke your heart to have Cerberus restrain her while you reached into her head and yanked Kronos out. Her screams still haunt you to this day. 

But from that day on, while Peggy was recovering, it was you that took care of the cage. That was how it should’ve been in the beginning, but you’d let her take on that responsibility for you. Never again would you subject another being to that. You did not know what it was like to have him in your head, but you had an idea of what it was like in his, and you couldn’t bear inflicting that kind of pain again. So, in addition to making frequent check-ups on the men and women who worked for you to make sure there wasn’t any trace of his influence, you took it upon yourself to personally deal with strengthening his prison every week.

Which was what you had to do right now.

With a heavy sigh, you turned back to look at your mansion and whistled.

At once, a crash, bang, thud, and whimper broke the silence and you could see a large black mass barreling at you from inside the house. The hulking figure shot through a wide doggy door just to the side of your front door and charged at you. 

Your entire face lit up with a laugh as Cerberus attacked you, jumping up to place his paws on your chest so he could have easy access to lick your face. Thankfully he was in his small form so there was only one head trying to lovingly maul you. If he had been full-sized, you’d have an issue. 

At his full height, Cerberus was as tall as your mountain in the Underworld, with three large heads that could see almost everything. When he wasn’t around you in his small size, he’d stand at the gates of the Underworld, guarding the borders and making sure that the rogue spirits didn’t escape. He seemed ferocious and scary because he closely resembled a large black wolf with deep red eyes, but he was really a gentle giant and your metaphorical baby.

You lifted your head up to avoid his eager tongue, instead allowing him to attack your neck as your laughter rang out in the still air. “Cerberus! Down, boy! Down! Yes, it’s good to see you too.” Once you’d gotten him calmed down, you crouched so you were at his eye level and scratched him behind the ears. “Who’s a good boy?”

He barked as if to say, “Me! Me! I am!”

You simply grinned at him and leaned forward to press your forehead to his, a common gesture of affection for you with him. “I’ve gotta go make sure Father hasn’t done anything stupid in a week, you wanna come with me?”

As if it was even a question. Cerberus always accompanied you on your trips, acting as a good guard dog to protect you from some of the spirits that dwelled on the pit’s edges—not that you really needed it, you just loved his company.

“Let’s go.” You straightened up and started to walk down the mountain path.

Cerberus kept perfect pace with you. He knew the way almost as well as you did.

Down the mountain and through the Asphodel Meadows. Cross the Meadows to the Phlegethon and follow the river to the mouth of the cave. Then it was a straight shot into the pit where you could cast your spells. Simple, easy, quick.

You knew the way by heart, not even bothering to look up as you went. Asphodel flowers crunched under your flats as you crossed the Meadows and spirits parted for you to get through; not that they needed to, they were just being polite.

You and Cerberus strolled through the Meadows, coming up to the Phlegethon and following it towards Tartarus.

You had to force your feet to walk as you got closer, a sense of unparalleled dread washing over you. Shivers crept down your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Tartarus was always a daunting place, but today it almost seemed… more so. And as soon as you took one step into the entrance, you knew that something was seriously wrong.

You stopped short, your feet planted into the ground. Your stomach dropped and every warning alarm you had was going off in your head. 

Cerberus had frozen, his ears flattened against his head and his lips pulled back in a snarl. His whole body was positioned to pounce at the drop of a hat.

You rolled your shoulders back and narrowed your eyes. The world began to tint red at the edges, the color slowly creeping in to cover your entire vision. With this new sight, you could see deeper into the tunnel where you saw figures writhing closer and closer to the pit. Something was in the cave, something that didn’t belong.

You grit your teeth and nodded your head towards Cerberus. “Go get Aunt Peggy,” you commanded in a low voice.

He didn’t need to be told twice and took off running as soon as the words left your lips.

You didn’t take your eyes off the mouth of the cave as you extended your hand, calling forth into being your weapon: a sleek black bident that was as tall as you were. Forged for you by the cyclopes millennia ago when you first fought your father, your vibranium bident was a formidable weapon. It was a lot like your sister’s trident, but with two prongs instead of three that branched out from the spear at the height of your chin. Your bident was your primary weapon used for fighting. It allowed you to manipulate spirits and channel magic, morph terrain, and wield the energy of the Underworld, among other things. Plus it was good for stabbing. 

You tightened your grip around the bident’s shaft and lifted it off the ground, moving slowly into the cave. Your feet never made a sound as you stepped closer and closer to the writhing mass. As you neared the souls, your fingers began to turn white with how tight you were holding your weapon, raising it to strike at any second. You were prepared to fight off a small militia of evil souls trying to escape, but what you found when you reached them was not a coup preparing to strike. 

No, the souls were, instead, swarming around a figure.

You muscled your way in through the crowd, using your bident to shove the spirits out of the way and dissipate them. You got to the center of their swarm and looked down. But instead of seeing an animal corpse or something of the likes, you saw something far more serious: a man.

The man seemed to be about your physical age, but you could tell almost right away from the aura he radiated that, like you, he was probably much older than he looked. His short dark hair was tousled and matted, no doubt from the spirits grabbing at it, and his clothes—what once seemed to be a pristine white shirt and jeans—were torn with claw marks and black with dirt. His shocking blue eyes stared up at the ceiling of the chasm, full of despair and hopelessness. He’d obviously started to lose hope that he’d ever escape the clutches of evil that held him tight.

You didn’t have much time to register who he was or what he was doing in Tartarus. You were just in shock that this man, this very alive man, had made it into your domain without you knowing. Your grip slackened and you stared down at him, surprise rising up in you with rage boiling up behind it as the only words you could manage to speak were, “Oh fuck.”

Next 2: He Becomes a Trespasser

[solecize]

EIGHTEEN FOREVER - PT 1.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. it all starts off when the bad boy greaser with a heart of gold, wong yukhei, almost runs you over with his beat up chevy on your way to school. your love story is immortalized through pen and paper, midnight ink and bloodstained envelopes spanning months on end. the sixties are a time of freedom and heartbreak—the time of your life. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. lucas x reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. period au (1960s)  / high school au / slice of life / fluff / angst 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. mature language, alcohol use, violence, drug use, light sexual references, mentions of death, themes of war, implied toxic family relationships, probably some historical inaccuracy but only if u squint 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 7.3k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. not proofread, as usual <3 all of the poems do not belong to me. in addition, smoking is normalized in this fic, in addition to slight tinges of sexism. i do not support either, but the elements were added due to the time period.

for the one with the pretty eyes:⠀ ⠀ 555-968-84 ⠀ ⠀ call me. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ (in the blue chevy in front of you)

on your side of town, graduating high school was as rare as a teenage male walking around with clean knuckles and hair that wasn’t slicked back with thick pomade. you were proud of yourself for making it this far, while all of your other friends dropped out early and had babies or began to work full time. books weren’t for everyone and not everybody could afford it. college was a long shot for most of the graduating class, or at least the ones from your neighbourhood.

“who are ya taking to prom, huh?” kunhang was relentless in sticking his nose all up in your business, bothering you for weeks on end about your date. he began kicking the passenger’s side from the backseat to annoy you further and you flipped him off with a growl.

sicheng watched the two of you with a snort, muttering something about you two being geeks and proceeded to kill the engine of the car, once finding a suitable spot at the drive in.

you rolled your eyes. “why do you keep assuming that i’m even going? why’re you going?” kunhang was your only friend who was going to be graduating at your side.

“because i can. i think that’s more than enough of a reason.”

just a fraction of the kids you knew from your neighbourhood attended prom, most preferring to hit the watering holes to party with fake ids rather than stand under hot lights and drink bland punch. then again, only a fraction of those kids had the privilege of being able to go. however, the event was a waste of time, if anyone asked you.

“i have other things to worry about,” you retorted. “like exams.”

you carried a lot of pride on your shoulders. you were the only child in your household to make in this far in academics, with your mom long gone in the cooler behind bars and your father leaving this world when you were young. your older sister lived the glamorous housewife life and barely spoke to you, turning her nose up at the family that she left behind for fortune. it was just you and your older brother fending for yourselves in that tiny house that was always empty, with you constantly out and your brother always working out of state for his truck driving job.

“it’ll be a gas, c’mon,” kunhang began to pout. “i’ll even let you dance with me.” between the girls that nearly broke their necks whipping around to get a good look at him in the school hallways, you doubted he would be able to.

pretending to gag, you replied. “ew, no.” you laughed and exited the mustang to avoid him swatting at your arm.

the clementine sky was just about dipping into the horizon, brightening the small lot with warmth and comfort. chatter and laughter wafted in the air, along with cigarette smoke and the hug of youth. june’s summer beast was just about creeping in, as other attendees pulled up in miniskirts and wife beaters to beat the heat to a pulp. it was the perfect evening for a crappy movie and an ice cold coca cola.

sicheng teased, “i’m surprised you’re even making it out of that hellhole with a diploma, much less going to the prom.” he poked kunhang’s side and the other male yelped, pulling him into a headlock as the three of you walked. you rolled your eyes.

weaving through the crowd of people making their way back to their cars, you were heading towards the concession area with the boys. as always, sicheng insisted on arriving just a little bit later because he liked being parked far away from the screen.

you were lost in the thoughts of buttery popcorn and a cream soda when you stopped in your tracks, frozen. sicheng and kunhang noticed this, having just released each other in their psuedo fight, and looked at you strangely. you wanted to facepalm yourself.

you exclaimed, “aw, fuck, we’re a whole buncha idiots. we forgot!”

the two boys looked horrified, as they slowly realized what you all had done. immediately, your group scurried back to sicheng’s mustang and tried to avoid shoving into people. the outing had just begun and the last thing you needed was kunhang’s hothead smacking into someone’s jaw.

“chenle! chenle, you good, buddy?”

upon closer inspection, you could hear the sounds of thumping up against the inside of the mustang. sicheng nearly fell over when he reached for the trunk, heaving it up to reveal the red-faced younger male. he dramatically gasped for air and you couldn’t help but giggle at him.

sicheng’s body folded and doubled over, as he tried to catch his breath in laughter. “holy shit! dude, you fucking idiot!”

“me?” kunhang was wiping tears from his eyes, body rumbling with his snickering. “who’s idea was it to bring the kid?”

you loved having chenle around, your younger wisecrack of a neighbour who often tagged along with the three of you. he was an absolute ball of sunshine. unfortunately, being the youngest meant being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

obviously, the boys meant no harm, but you were the one with the softest heart between all of them and was far more gentle towards him. “aw, we’re really sorry, chenle,” you managed to sputter out between your laughter.

“why do i always end up going in the trunk?” chenle frowned, shoulders drooping. “and i ain’t a kid!”

and of course, chenle and kunhang began shoving each other, albeit playfully at the very least. you sighed and came to the conclusion that you were friends with a bunch of goddamn zoo animals and that you needed some female friends. they stopped when you yelled at them to knock it off.

sicheng replied, “sorry, buddy. you’re the smallest one, so you luck out.” of course, it would never be him because it was his car, even though he was the bright one who suggested hiding one of you in the trunk to avoid paying for an extra ticket.

“can we just get our popcorn now?” chenle had officially given up, though his pout stained his face.

you all murmured in agreement, though everyone shared the same shit eating grins for accidentally abandoning chenle in the trunk of the mustang. he continued to claim that he was suffocating the entire time, as you lost yourself in the daydream of a refreshing drink from the concession stand amid the intense humidity.

then, kunhang called your name and that’s when you realize you’d walked ahead when everyone else stayed behind.

the three boys were inspecting something on the windshield of the mustang. sicheng remained neutral, so you figured it couldn’t have been a scratch or crack or something. you jogged over to peer over at what they were all looking at.

“when did someone leave this. . . .?” sicheng trailed off, trying to remember if he saw any figures approach in car. it must have been right after they initially left.

it was a piece of lined paper, likely torn out of a notebook and tucked underneath one of the wipers. the handwriting was clear and you cocked an eyebrow. pretty eyes?

“wow, someone left a note for me,” kunhang grinned.

chenle cleared this throat, looking elsewhere. “uh, actually, i don’t think it’s for you, man.”

you followed his eyes, realizing that he spotted the said blue chevy. a handful of guys lounged around the back of the pickup, some you even recognized from school and others you just knew. there was the former football team linebacker, yangyang. your once upon a time lab partner, xiaojun. even your older brother’s best friend, kun.  there was ten, who worked at the ice cream shop that you frequented.

then, there was the one who was looking straight at you.

everyone knew yukhei, but nobody really knew him. he had a shield of mystery in between himself and the rest of the world, only truly with the same four guys at all times. that’s how you saw him as, anyway. otherwise, to the rest of your town, he was the bad boy with a heart of gold, the boy with witty retorts and the brightest smile that you’d probably ever laid eyes on. something seemed so off about the way he portrayed himself to everyone else, though.

of course, to the rest of the girls at your school, he was the top candidate on everyone’s list for a prom date. you knew that enough, from the explicit whispers from girls that you overheard in the middle of class. everyone wanted him.

that’s why, if he hadn’t locked eyes with you, there was no way in hell you’d believe that yukhei wrote that note for you.

the idea scared you and you weren’t thrilled by the possibility of having wong yukhei. that’s why you immediately crumpled up the notes and tossed it to the side. he watched your every move as you did so.

after all, yukhei nearly ran you over the week before and he clearly could not remember your name.

the week before.

“are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

so, you were a little sleep deprived. you’d been up until the early morning hours finishing an essay worth a chunk of your grade, which shouldn’t have taken so long if it weren’t for the fact that you had to deal with the constant distractions that were your friends. at some point, chenle and sicheng dropped by and decided to make you cookies in the kitchen to cheer you on as you reached the end of the school year—obviously, that escalated into a disaster. you spent a few hours cleaning before you could finally kick the two knuckleheads out of your home.

that morning, you literally rolled out of bed onto the floor when you woke up. this was upon realizing that you slept through your alarm clock for school, snoozing off into the deepest sleep of your life after finishing your assignment. that’s how you found yourself sprinting from street light to street light, hoping to at least make it before the end of second period.

then, there was the baby blue chevy pickup speeding in like lightning from your left. you honestly should have heard it from a mile away, with the gurgle and sputter of an engine humming the disgusting tune louder than anything else on the street. however, you were too lost in the daze of fatigue and trying to remember if you packed yourself a lunch.

you noticed the truck a little too late, as it was a few away from you before you yelped and attempted to hop away, but ended up landing straight on your bottom. the impact nearly knocked the wind out of you and you braced yourself for the crash. thankfully, the driver had enough sense to come to a screeching halt, just about to touch you. this is when you yelled at the male behind the wheel.

the features of his handsome face knitted together. “aw, shit, shit shit—are you alright?” he yelled.

it took half a second to process what just happened, ignoring the stinging ache oozing in your backside. you took a sharp inhale and everything exploded like a volcano. shooting right up in a sitting position, you were met with the eyes of wong yukhei.

“do i look alright?” you snapped and he opened his mouth to reply, but you didn’t let him get even a word out. “you almost killed me, running that stop sign! i’m freakin’ exhausted, probably got three hours of sleep and i had to deal with my brother’s idiot cat almost clawing my eyes out on my way out! i’ve been running for forever and my legs ache like hell and i have to go to work straight after school! and. . .and, worst of fucking all, i’m late for school!”

yukhei simply blinked, staring back at your state, with dark crescent moons slapped underneath your eyes and your chest heaving for air. you were, in all simpleness, a mess. he smiled slightly, running a hand through his precisely twirled up, slicked up hair.  you narrowed your eyes at his response.

he simply replied, “you wanna hop in?”

“i—what?”

“c’mon sweets, i’m sorry. i fucked up, at least let me give you a ride to school,” yukhei said, unbuckling his seatbelt. he began to exit his vehicle, gliding over to you and extended his hand. a smile remained on his lips and your head started to spin.

that was definitely not the response you expected. the only reason you went off on him so harshly was because you were used to dealing with the idiot hoods from your block, who seemed like they were raised without a lick of manners in the very few braincells in their heads. as a woman, you knew that you were going to automatically be treated lightly and built strong walls for that very reason. to have yukhei respond with such quietude was foreign to you and you felt a weight drop at the pit of your stomach for your reaction.

reluctantly, you grabbed his hand and he helped heave you up. you stumbled slightly once you rose a little too fast and you instinctively grabbed for leverage, which happened to be a handful of his leather jacket. yukhei didn’t seem to mind, though, which astounded you because other guys like sicheng and kunhang carried their leathers like their pride and joy, with even the slightest crinkle driving them mad. you apologized regardless.

yukhei attempted to steady you, both hands on either side of your shoulders. “s’okay, no worries. you kinda took a hard fall there.”

you gulped down the ball forming in your throat, trying to look anywhere but into his deep brown eyes. these were the same eyes that girls cursed for tearing into their hearts and bringing on permanent cracks. the same eyes that girls cried over in the washrooms at school. school. you were late for school.

“um, yeah, let’s. . .let’s just go.” you’d been counting time in your head since leaving your front door and knew exactly what time it was, but you still pulled up your sleeve to glance at your watch. anything to avoid looking into his eyes.

something must have creeped in under your skin and taken control of your muscles because you were not the type of person to get into a stranger’s car. alright, wong yukhei was no stranger, but he had a reputation that you were well aware of. it was just as bad. or maybe it really just because you were—

“—late for school again, but i guess i’m used to it and you’re not,” yukhei had been saying, but you were zoned out and had just opened the car door.

it seemed to had only occurred to you then, but you sometimes forgot that yukhei still went to your school. he had a distinct group of friends that he spent time with, all of which had dropped out quite some time ago. he never really struck you as the academic type and as far as you could remember, you never ran into him in the hallways or in class. the only reminders of his existence in the place were the indecent fantasies written about him on the inside of the girls’ bathroom stalls.

“you sure you’re okay, y/n? it is y/n, right?” yukehi glanced over at you from the driver's seat, roaring life back into the pickup with the turn of his key.

you thought you heard incorrectly, but then he repeated it. yukhei actually knew your name and it wasn't just because he was this popular boy that all the girls went after, but you were in shock be ause you'd never even exchanged words before as far as you knew. he seemed to read your mind and gave you a look that read "surprised you, didn't i?" with the raise of a single eyebrow.

yukhei continued as a further explanation,“i sat behind you in history class last year before i transferred out of it.”

clipping in your seatbelt, all you could reply with was, “yeah.” your eyes darted over to the way he mindlessly gripped the steering wheel with one hand, with a beautiful swirl of reds and blues staining his otherwise immaculate knuckles. he let the other one hang loose  out of the window. “you promise to drive safe?”

a goosebump inducing grin, one bright enough to outshine a sun, stretched across his lips. “yeah, cross my heart.” yukhei said this, even as booked beyond the speed limit. you didn’t say anything. “to be fair, sweets, you weren’t exactly lookin’ out when you were sprinting earlier.”

you awkwardly twirled the ends of your hair hanging down your shoulder, but tried to keep an annoyed expression. “i was counting on drivers following road signs, yukhei.”

he smiled even wider. “ah, so you do know my name.”

that was a pretty ridiculous thought, there was no way that he wasn’t just teasing. yukhei had to be even just the slightest bit self-aware enough to see the way he’s flanked by girls at school. he was popular, enough so that quiet kids like yourself who never talked to him knew him. besides, you all lived in a town where everybody knew everybody and chances are, their kids come to know their kids and so on. nobody escaped the little bubble and routine that you all settled in.

something tugged at your heartstrings, though, at the way yukhei lit up.

“what’s the story behind those bruises?” you finally said, cocking your head to the side.

“hmm?” yukhei murmured, as the sight of your school building came into sight. “oh. just a badge of loyalty. you know how it is.”

unfortunately, you did know. around here, boys seemed to travel in packs and each one had each other’s backs to the grave. some found it silly, but there was an air of unspoken understanding.

“some kids from the south side give y’all trouble?”

if you had to guess, you would have probably gone with the reason being yukhei’s hothead of a best friend, yangyang. there was one particularly bad outburst last month, when you and kunhang went to the diner after school, only to be interrupted by a fight erupting between yangyang and some rich kid from the south. of course, the prep had his boys with him to back him up and bring the fight outside, prompting yukhei and xiaojun to get involved automatically. you had watched in amusement from the other side of the window with your strawberry milkshake, as yukhei beat a guy up against his own car.

“not me, my little sister. that shit don’t ever sit right with me, runnin’ their mouths on an innocent girl like her.” something in your brain clicked and you remembered that yukhei had a kid sister, only because she was in chenle’s grade and he used to have the biggest crush on her. “it’s just the two of us and our grandpa, so i feel extra responsible for her.”

that was the way your brother used to be with you, when he turned legal just before your mom got sent behind bars. you’d always have appreciation for him and in turn, you gained a new wave of respect for yukhei.

“what’s the story behind ms. honour roll being late to school?” it took you a second to realize that he was talking about you and you snorted.

you replied, “i’m surprised you asked. if i were you, i’d be scared of me going off on another rampage.”

“yeah, i’d bet you’d really get mad the second time. maybe even beat me up?” yukhei smirked, making sure you were paying attention to the fact that he’d obeyed the next stop sign they crossed paths with. you rolled your eyes.

“you’d end up just like one of them roman emperors,” you mused, watching a trace of confusion emerge on his handsome features. “c’mon, that’s from like the second week of our history class.”

yukhei merely shrugged. “i was too distracted.”

“distracted? by what, the teacher’s droning voice?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“nah, this real pretty girl that sat in front of me. so much so that i had to transfer out because i would have probably flunked out.”

before you knew it, he pulled into the parking lot of the school. before being able to announce the arrival, you’d already nearly ripped off your seatbelt and zipped out of the car, yelling a thanks as you scurried off with a deep rouge tinting your cheeks. there was still ten minutes left before the end of second period. yukhei only chuckled, watching you.

dear yukhei,

remember that first night at the drive-in? honestly, i thought you were a real fox. someone i had no chance with. the fact that you gave me a chance scared the hell out of me. you know how many restless nights i had, tossing and turning because i wanted to know why you chose me? out of the girls in the world, you made me feel like a goddamn diamond in a pile of dirt. i’ll never forget that. i’ll never forget the way you made me feel that summer, the first and last one we spent together.

love, your sweets.

after ignoring yukhei at the drive-in, you were positive that was going to be the last you heard from him. however, he still plagued your thoughts like a ghost. you had no idea why, but you knew that it scared you. it was the day after and you arrived to school early, trudging to your locker with a yawn. you thought your eyes were deceiving you, when you pulled open the door to be met with a note flying out of a random crook.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

and, to a lightning shock to the middle of your chest, you looked over to your side to find yukhei. he leaned against a wall of lockers, not even pretending to listen to the two girls talking to him. he was looking straight at you and smiled. you let out an exasperated scoff, wondering if you were dreaming.

you’d received a few more of these love poems before you decided to take matters into your own hands. or, really, it was chenle who forced you to do so. you didn’t dare confide in either sicheng or kunhang about your new admirer. there was no doubt that they’d turn their lip up at the idea of love poems, would probably go on and call yukhei some emasculating name. they also knew of yukhei’s reputation and were a tad over protective.

alright, a “tad” was an understatement. kunhang was furious when he realized yukhei was trying to make a pass at you at the movies and sicheng had to shove him back into the car to prevent a fight. it also seemed that it was so that he could find a different parking spot, away from yukhei and his friends.

although he began courting you from a safe distance, yukhei was not one for subtlety. you noticed that right off the bat when he boldly gave you his number in front of all your friends. the poems in your locker was another thing, as he was always just around the corner to ensure that you knew they were from him.

she walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes; thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies.

the latest of them, discovering the folded up note in your locker once again, had particularly swept you off your feet.

“what if he’s like this with every other girl?” you began to worry, fiddling with the phone cord in your hand.

you were seated in your living room one tuesday night, crossed legged on the ugly floral couch with a joint in between your lips. sicheng and kunhang left just minute prior, leaving you with chenle. he was watching television in your dad’s old armchair, in an identical position as you. neither of you were in the mood to go out, having being burned out by final exams. meanwhile, chenle made your house his second home when he couldn’t get a foot in his own door without his parents yelling at him for any reason they could find.

chenle snorted. “if wong yukhei wrote love poems to every girl he’s been with, i’m pretty sure we would’ve all heard by know.” he took a drag out of his joint. “besides, he only has eyes for you, even when he has other broads hangin’ off of him. everyone’s been noticin’ that the girls’ve been backin’ off of him lately, too.”

at this point, you were no longer scared of the idea of wong yukhei. in fact, it excited you. maybe it was the marijuana doing its usual duty, but you had a sudden surge of energy flowing through your veins.

reaching into the back pocket of your capris, you uncrumpled the first piece of paper that started it all. you hadn’t thrown out the note from the drive-in after all, recovering it just before sicheng insisted that you guys were to move. letting go on the deep breath that was imprisoned in your throat for what seemed like an hour, you slowly began to dial in the number.

“hello?” a familiar deep voice rumbled.

“hi,” you managed to squeak out and you gave chenle the middle finger when you caught him snickering. “i’m looking for yukhei.”

you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “this is him. who’s calling?”

“um, y/n.” you wedged the phone in between the side of your cheek and your shoulder, unconsciously beginning twirling a loose strand of hair.

there was a pause on the other line and you weren’t sure what to make of it, possibly disbelief. “oh. hi, sweets.” yukhei chuckled. “i see you’ve decided to give me a chance.”

“does this mean the notes are gonna stop?” you teased, but deep inside, you were hoping the answer was going to be a no.

he simply replied, “’course not. unless you say the word.” there was some fiddling on the other end and you could’ve sworn you heard the sound of a lighter. “when are you free?”

“you askin’ me out, yukhei?” you giggled and chenle rolled his eyes at you, throwing a pillow in your direction. you covered the phone with one hand, telling him to fuck off, before sweetly bringing it back up to your ear.

“how’s friday?” the male exhaled a little loudly—was he smoking, too? you wanted to feel a little bit powerful, so you convinced yourself that it was out of nerves.

you responded a little bit too quickly. “yes. friday sounds good.” swallowing down the realization, you proceeded to give him your address.

“good,” yukhei repeated after you, slowly drawing out the word like molasses. “i’ll pick you up at eight. see you then, sweets.”

the call ended and you sat as still as a statue. closing your eyes, you lost yourself in the daze of smoke and the thought of yukhei. were your ears ringing? the faint hum and static of the television faded out, as you leaned back into the couch with a stupid smile playing at the corners of your lips.

someone cleared their throat. you cracked one eye open and lo and behold, chenle was looking at you like you were a lunatic. in that split second, your face dropped back into annoyance and you hurled the nearest cushion in his direction.

“hey!”

“what?” you snapped.

chenle continued his earlier snickering. “guess that went well, then, huh? i told ya so.”

you put out the joint in front of you and proceeded to bury your face into your hands. your state of disbelief felt permanent, like you were stained with the thoughts of wong yukhei forever. without a word of warning, you began to screech uncontrollably and the younger male nearly jumped out of his seat.

“ahh!! what the fuck, y/n?!” chenle heaved, holding his hand on his heart like he’d been shot. he accidentally knocked over the bag of pretzels that he’d been munching on, spilling it all over the carpet. normally, you would have freaked out over the mess, but you were too entranced in the fact that you had a date with the most handsome boy in school.

that’s when chenle knew you were either: possessed or completely smitten.

the grin on your face was so wide that it hurt, but you blocked out the pain. “we have a date!” with that, you nearly jumped onto the armchair and hauled chenle in a bone crushing hug that left him without any oxygen.

“can’t. . .breathe. .  .” he was blue in the face at this point, struggling to even get his words out.

you giggled and released him, patting his cheek as he did so. chenle gasped dramatically for air, coughing as he did so. he shot you a glare.

“so, when’s the day of this stupid date?” he grumbled, settling back into his spot and began picking up his mess.

returning to the couch, you said, “friday. he said he’s going to pick me up.” you once saw that chevy of his as the devil machine, but now, you were swooning at the thought of it pulling up in front of your house.

“friday?” chenle’s eyebrows suddenly reached his hairline.

you gave him a questioning look. “yeah, it’s a little soon, but—”

“no, no,” he shook his head. “it’s not that. uhh, don’t you remember what’s happening on friday?”

you began to search your brain for any important dates, like a test or a birthday that you should’ve jotted down. “huh?” you came up empty and tilted your head slightly to the side.

“that’s prom night, stupid.”

if you hadn’t been hit with a ton of bricks before, this was an entire goddamn building raining down on you. wong yukhei had not only chased you with love poems and asked you out on a date, but he had asked you out to prom. this was really happening.

you didn’t give a damn about prom night, but you knew what it meant to other girls and it seemed like you just won a year long race between the class of seniors itching to get their hands on yukhei.

he wasn’t the only reason for your disbelief, but it was also the fact that you managed to get roped into attending prom anyway, after months of complaining about it. you groaned, lying down on the couch. this meant you had to go out and buy a freakin’ dress.

my love,

there are two times in my life when i was left absolutely breathless. the first time was when i first met you and i mean really met you. i always knew you in my heart. we were about fifteen when you moved to this town, this town that i’d grown to resent all of my life. i associated these streets with violence and hatred and i wanted nothing more to get away as fast as possible. i was hanging out with ten, loitering at the ice cream place, while i waited for his shift to end. that’s when you came in and you asked me about what flavour was best. i had a crush on you ever since that day, but could never seem to work up the courage to approach you first. yeah, i’m a fucking idiot, i know. i had those other girls following me around, but i could never quite shake off that feeling of, well, you. i’d never felt so damn. . .shy? when a girl made me feel that way, i knew you were special.

the second time was on prom night.

"ah, ah, don’t open that yet.”

you pouted and put the note back in its place, nestled in between the dozen of peonys. they were the colour of the sunset, a soft peach that brought butterflies to your insides. when yukhei had arrived to your front door with these, you nearly gasped out loud because they were so stunning.

the colour was identical to the sky above, as the clouds faded into one another and touches of navy loomed at the base of the point where the land met the heavens. yukhei’s windows were rolled all the way down and you let the wind penetrate against your being, caressing the locks of your curled hair. you’d applied an absurd amount of hairspray to keep it that way, so you weren’t concerned about the wind ruining the style.

yukhei glanced over to your side. “you can open it at the end of the night. promise.” the more you saw him smile, the more charming it became each time.

when the two of you pulled into the school parking lot, you immediately spotted kunhang and his scratched plymouth. he was leaning against the hood, sweet talking his date, some girl named meixiu that you didn’t know. probably an underclassman, you had no idea. he waved at you and probably just you, as you failed to miss the way his upper lip slightly twitched when yukhei exited his vehicle.

kunhang was the only person you guys were meeting, since both of your friend groups consisted of drop outs. you gave a polite wave to meixiu and gave kunhang a quick side hug. meanwhile, he and yukhei exchanged curt nods, as the parking lot began to reek of testosterone from the stares between the two alone.

“nice threads,” meixiu broke the silence, peering at your dress.

thankfully, you rummaged far enough into the last of your sister’s things that she left behind before moving out and came out with something decent. it was a boatneck satin dress with an empire waist and went down to just above your ankles. under the glare of the sunset, its baby blue hue contrasted beautifully. definitely pretty and saved you money and time. considering your lack of female friends, it would have been a real pain in the ass to have to drag either sicheng or chenle to a boutique.

“thank you,” you smiled at meixiu.

when you opened the door to greet yukhei, he had looked like someone just slapped him. he looked absolutely stunned and began drinking in the way you had dressed up, like an angel appeared in front of him and breathed the word of god. you were just as stunned when you were met with his put together appearance. you always had a soft spot for a tuff leather jacket and calloused hands, but seeing yukhei in a tuxedo made you rethink your preferences.

“wow,” the two of you had sputtered out at the same time and after a pause, began to laugh together.

meanwhile, kunhang merely blinked at your appearance. “turns out you’re a woman after all.” he yelped when you smacked his arm for that comment. “what? just because you walk around in a miniskirt doesn’t mean you’re a lady—” you hit him again.

“a pretty damn fine one at that,” yukhei snaked an arm around your waist and you relaxed slightly. “ready to head in?”

that baby blue dress. the way you lost yourself in the music on the dancefloor without a care in the world. my god, i wish i could capture that memory in my mind forever. i was still so goddamn shy and the only way i could express my feelings was through letters. some things never change, huh?

yours truly, yukhei.

the rest of your night was just as you imagined it would turn out. some lame music, bad refreshments, and glares from literally every girl on the dancefloor when they saw who you arrived with. all eyes were on the two of you when you walked in through the doors, though you knew it was partly out of curiosity to see who wong yukhei would bring to prom.

suddenly, you were beginning to be treated different. guys you’d never spoken to for four years cornered you into conversations that you had no interest in. girls complimented your dress and not in the way meixiu did, but like panthers sneaking up to stalk their prey. you nearly finished the contents of yukhei’s hidden flask out of annoyance.

“easy there, sweets,” he said, eyes wide when you slipped him his almost empty flask.

you laughed a bit. “sorry. i’m just slowly starting to get tired.”

“sleepy?” he asked, brushing a stray curl of hair out of your face.

the two of you were leaning on a wall, silently bopping your heads to the tune of the bluesy guitar playing throughout the school gymnasium. yukhei, you discovered, was a really good dancer. although shy at first, the majority of your night was spent on the dancefloor. you were sure you picked up on a few of his moves, even. you teased him about it on your way to the back, after he declared that he was parched.

“no, not that kind of tired. i mean, like—” you gave a quick side glance to a group of girls to your left that had been glaring in your direction all night,“—tired of that.”

it wasn’t as though you were overly concerned with the other girls, but it was really starting to get on your nerves.

“then, let’s get out of here?”

sure, the night was still young, but something twinkled in yukhei’s eyes and you knew that the date was far from over. you looked over at the crowd, not being able to find kunhang. he’d live if you didn’t tell him a goodbye. you shrugged and tapped your nails against your clutch.

“get out here, where?” you asked reluctantly, wincing as you did so. the last thing you wanted to do in that moment was make an assumption, but you also wanted to set clear boundaries before the night went on.

yukhei raised his eyebrows. “i mean, like, we could go grab a burger or somethin’. i’m starving.” he chuckled, but you smiled at his response.

“alright. i’m good with that.”

you didn’t even notice yukhei grabbing your head and lacing your fingers with his own—it just felt so natural. he gently led you back to the main entrance and you couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles ever so slightly flexed underneath his suit and the way he styled his hair into perfect swirls with gel and the crystal clear confidence in his eyes and—

“oh, ho, so you ended up working up the nerve to ask y/n out after all?” there was no mistake about it, that voice belonged to your old history teacher. it was the voice you heard in your nightmares, after all. “gimme some skin, yukhei!”

the old man sat in front of the entrance, where the tickets had been checked at the beginning of the night. presumably to catch any drunk teenagers stumbling out of the gymnasium, he was the only chaperone outside of the main floor.

you furrowed your eyebrows together. yukhei awkwardly shook hands with the teacher. then, you remembered what yukhei had told you before when he gave you a ride to school. your lips parted slightly.

“you stole away one of my favourite students, you know that, ms. y/n?” he continued.

turning to yukhei, whose ears began to transform into a brilliant bubblegum colour, you said, “you weren’t joking about that?”

“why would i be joking?” yukhei chuckled.

you paused and shrugged. “i dunno. i thought it was just one of them cheesy things guys say. like you were just trying to make me swoon or somethin’.”

“what? aw, c’mon, sweets, i can do better than that!” yukhei exclaimed and poked your side, causing you to giggle and yelp.

your old history teacher rolled your eyes at the two of you. “just go on, go home!” he began shooing the two of you away like some puppies.

yukhei continued leading you out of the building, only until you stopped in the middle of the parking lot when you heard a familiar song. it was unmistakable, you would have recognized the record from miles away. he froze, noticing the way you had done the same.

“are you alright?” he stepped forward, reaching out to touch your arm.

you felt a little silly, but you said it anyway. “they’re playing my favourite song. you think we could. . .?” you trailed off, hoping he would agree.

there wasn’t a guy you knew that absolutely detested the beach boys. sicheng whined like he was in pain every time you put one of their records one. you had to basically hide all of their music from your brother, taking them away from the main living room shelf in fear that he would eventually trash them one day. yukhei pressed his lips together, listening to the song—clearly he was no exception.

“you’re into these fools, too?” he teased.

yukhei began stripping himself of his suit jacket, placing it over your shoulders and you immediately revelled in the warmth and faint scent of his cologne on the fabric. the night had fully set in and a dull chill kissed your bare skin. under the moonlight, the man looked immaculate.

you scoffed. “they have good music!” and that they did, but it was something about the group that made you sway in place and felt like you were high on love.

“why don’t we just dance here?”

the parking lot was empty save for the two of you and the countless of cars. even the streets were dead silent and the only sounds in the air were the beach boys telling you to not worry and the soft rustling of the leaves. then, there was yukhei. his same damn charming smirk that seemed to have already captured your heart, but was not nearly as powerful as the thoughts he spilled out into words for you on paper.

you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands found a place on your waist, like the two of you had done this millions of time before in another life.

dear y/n,

you are the stars.

yukhei.