#anyways anyone got any clues about the tallys?

[fangirltothefullest]

every person theorizing about fnaf/fnaf movie lore and trying to solve stuff and still struggling to understand william and henry's relationship as business partners: THIS IS SO COMPLEX AND THERE ARE SO MANY THEORIES!!! SOME ARE SO GOOD OTHERS ARE CONTROVERSIAL!

me: aheeheem i think balloon boy has garret's spirit in the movie cause it keeps following him around

every fnaff hardcore fan getting pitchforks and torches: >:U !!

me being stabbed: :)))) teeheehee balloon boy weird balloon boy funny

[katnissmellarkkk]

Okayyyy here comes the next chapter ! Number .... lemme look. Okay, number six! 🥳🥳🥳

And yes, my thoughts as usual will be a messy, very Everlark-biased and full of typos. Letsss gooooo 🥰🥰🥰

Is this the first time Katniss and Peeta have been to their floor or is this just the most opportune time to explain and introduce the Tribute Center living quarters?

Also why are they called tributes anyway? That word suddenly seems weird to me after nine years... 🤔🤔🤔

“I've ridden the elevator a couple of times in the Justice Building back in District 12. Once to receive the medal for my father's death and then yesterday to say my final goodbyes to my friends and family” .... 😶😶 so only good memories and connotations to elevators then, huh?

“The walls of this elevator are made of crystal so that you can watch the people on the ground floor shrink to ants as you shoot up into the air.” My mind is just imagining the elevator in Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone’s Spider-Man movies 🤗.

“It's exhilarating and I'm tempted to ask Effie Trinket if we can ride it again, but somehow that seems childish” this is so cute and innocent omg. Katniss, like I said in my last chapter blog, still has some childlike innocence left in her 🥺🥺🥺. I’m a sad.

Also excuse the unnecessary extra gif use but 🤭🤭🤭

Oh wow, so Haymitch hasn’t been around since they were on the train? No wonder neither Katniss nor Peeta fled they could trust him for basically the entirety of the first book. 😐😐😐

You know it’s bad when Effie being around feels like a blessing to Katniss. Girl has more restraint than me, I’d have ripped off this woman’s janky wig by now without remorse. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

Effie acts like they’re her purebred show dogs. I know I know how is this news, that’s a blatant fact. The movies really softened her up tho for the general audience. And I bleed the movies and books together more than I should 😔😔😔

Well at least she’s made herself useful, trying to get Everlark sponsors ... even if it’s ultimately to benefit herself above anyone else .... 😤

Effie calling Twelve barbaric while she’s preparing them for the slaughter isn’t even ironic it’s like literally just brainless. Johanna probably had the nickname floating around for a lot of people before she officially knighted Katniss with it 😭

“Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district.” Is this how they refer to Twelve? So basically if a district makes a better item, it’s a more worthy one in the Capitol’s eyes? So essentially, if District Eight made like diamonds or pearls or whatever then it would be more worthy? So are the districts assigned their numbers (one, two, three, four, etc) based on their order of importance to the Capitol’s lifestyle? I always thought it was based on their distance in relation to the Capitol? Okay so I didn’t really pay much attention to these facts previously when I read these books ok look away I’m an idiot

Omg 😭😭😭😭 Effie is such an idiot. But the coal turns to pearls thing is my favorite line from her only because it serves as the cutest inside joke when Peeta makes a callback to it in Catching Fire and Finnick is just like “why are these two teenagers so stupid who did I ally with? 🥵😳🥵😳🥵”

“I wonder if the people she's been plugging us to all day either know or care.” After reading Songbirds and Snakes, I’m sure they don’t have a clue, boo. 😑😑😑😑 although not everyone was an idiot back then ... maybe Snow is putting lead in the drinking water?

“But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary.” I know she’s trying to help and I know we say this kind of thing today, but considering this is two kids she’s well aware will be heading into a death match this is just bad wording I know surprise surprise 🙄🙄🙄😬😬😬😬

“Although lacking in many departments, Effie Trinket has a certain determination I have to admire.” Katniss really does see the best in people. What’s sad, y’all, is I think Katniss unconsciously really tries to like people and that’s why she has her guard up so high. Because the softer you are, the easier people will step all over you. Terrible phrasing here, Samantha, I’m so sorry to any of my readers ... okay now that sounded arrogant, implying I have readers 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤣😅🤣😅🤣😅

“My quarters are larger than our entire house back home.” Omg? I mean, yes, I knew this already obviously no duh but like also. Just the fact that three people live in a space smaller than a bedroom and bathroom arena is saddy sad sad. Also do they have indoor plumbing in the Seam or is their backyards just full of—okay, I’ll see myself out. 😶🤭😅🙃

“The shower alone has a panel with more than a hundred options you can choose regulating water temperature, pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massaging sponges.” I’m just imagining a Spongebob scene ngl.

I’m sorry there’s so many gifs this time around it’s probably taking us out of the reading headspace I’ll never do it again 😩😩😩😩 I talk like I have a class of people listening to me 🤭🤭🤭

“Instead of struggling with the knots in my wet hair, I merely place my hand on a box that sends a current through my scalp, untangling, parting, and drying my hair almost instantly” I need this someone invent this NOW my brush is yanking out my hair 😔😩

“I program the closet for an outfit to my taste.” ‘Yes, Alexa, I’d like a hunting jacket, some boots and a green shirt. Yes, it can be brown.’

“You need only whisper a type of food from a gigantic menu into a mouthpiece and it appears, hot and steamy, before you in less than a minute.” I like this idea because it means that Peeta could order hot choccy to comfort Katniss after her nightmares in Catching Fire from the comfort of her their own bed. 🤗🤗🤗 also I want this for myself. The bad people are giving my greedy self ideas look away everyone 😬

“I walk around the room eating goose liver and puffy bread until there's a knock on the door.” 🤢🤢🤢🤢 Of everything you could have chosen, child, this is what you decided on? Someone help my girl and her rotten tastebuds now.

“Effie's calling me to dinner. Good. I'm starving.” Baby, you were just eating. She’s so nutritionally messed up. 😔😔😔

Katniss trying wine 🥳🥳🥳 she’s so funny, trying to find a way to improve the taste 😅. She’ll make a good taste tester for her baker husband one day.

Hahahaha Katniss not liking the feeling and judging Haymitch for always being tipsy. Also this is sad because she ends up addicted to morphling later one which is far worse than a little wine.

I’m glad to know Baked Alaska survived the apocalypse 😅🥳

Katniss just constantly trying to decipher the recipe of every meal and how to recreate it reads cute on a surface level but it’s actually so tragic because everything to this girl is based around food. Like even more than is typically noticed. They really should have given a hint at this in the first movie. Good thing she marries a man who can always keep her full.

I’m just forever side-eyeing you, Gare Bear.

That’s Gary Ross for the confused kids in the back.

Why does Katniss yelling mid-sentence, “oh! I know you!” add to her innocence? 🥺 it’s because she was overwhelmed by all the food and new luxuries she’d never even been able to imagine ... and also this is pre her first games so she’s still got some childhood left in her 😩😔

I wonder how Lavinia felt seeing Katniss volunteer and knowing she’d be her Avox? I wonder if she, like Cinna, somehow volunteered to be her Avox?

I mean ... talk about convenient placement that this specific girl was assigned to Katniss’ district—oh wait, y’all, I just caught myself. She’s from Twelve. She was assigned to Twelve’s tributes because she’s from there, duh. I’m such an airhead omg just call me Effie.

Don’t you actually dare.

“When I look back, the four adults are watching me like hawks.” Meanwhile, Peeta is just like 😬😬😬 eating his dinner.

Actually, ngl, this could be such a reach and it probably is but like maybe Peeta sensed a confrontation coming and, because of his implied upbringing, he naturally becomes silent or makes himself invisible when trouble starts looking like it’s gonna arise. 🥺🥺🥺 I don’t know why I say these things I’m just hurting my own feelings but ya know the drill. I thought it so I said it.

Why is Effie yelling at Katniss for saying she knows the Avox girl like omg overreaction much? And I know, the sky is blue 🙄🙄🙄 she’s prejudiced against basically everyone, I know, I know

Rip her wig off, Katty Deen 🤗🤗🤗

Oh I stupidly forgot that Avoxes are supposedly known by everyone to be traitors or criminals. So I suppose this isn’t Effie’s worst offense but I’m keeping a tally anyways

Katniss is blaming her stuttering on the wine but my girl just has social anxiety 😔😔😔

Peeta coming in with a save 😭😭😭 he’s already trying saving his girl 🤧

Alsoooo the unspoken friendship, the covering for the other and teaming up against the adults, is still riding high and going strong here 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 look away, y’all, the shipper comments are coming in strong

Also why is this the first real interaction with Peeta in this chapter yet? My baby needs more page-time 🤭🤭🤭

“Delly Cartwright is a pasty-faced, lumpy girl with yellowish hair who looks about as much like our server as a beetle does a butterfly.” Now why did Katniss just tear Delly to shreds for no reason at all 😭😭😭 this was a surprise assault on the poor girl 🙃🙃🙃🙃

“She may also be the friendliest person on the planet - she smiles constantly at everybody in school, even me.” Okay not to tie absolutely everything back to Peeta ... but to tie absolutely everything back to Peeta ... this description of poor, sweet Delly is actually indicative of Peeta’s character? Since Delly, we find out in Mockingjay, is Peeta’s childhood best friend, her personality being this sunny, kind, good-natured person tells us Peeta has always probably been somewhat like her and perhaps not as much like the other town kids Katniss implies to be stuck up or snooty. Maybe Katniss is just shady and deflects onto others 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️.

Also the fact that she gives this like ... mean description of Delly but saw Peeta as popular, even though surely Delly and Peeta spent time at school together, implies further that Katniss did indeed harbor a secret crush on Peeta even before the reaping. A very mild comparison of his on her though, of course 😅😅😅

“It must be the hair” “something about the eyes too” their piggybacking on the other’s comments really is just chiefs kiss 😘🤗🥰🤧 FYI I know the saying is chefs kiss but I made the typo once a long time ago and decided to add it forever to my brand 🤗🙃🥳

Also though this Everlark interaction is reminiscent of when two kids get caught by their teacher goofing off in class and covering for each other 🥰 only it’s a lot more deadly stakes

“A few of the other couples make a nice impression, but none of them can hold a candle to us.” She’s so modest 🤧🤧🤧 her narration here and during the Tribute Parade just has the vibes of ... well .... sorry in advance

Haymitch’s comment “Just the perfect touch of rebellion. Very nice” leads me to think he and Cinna and maybe Portia were always in cahoots about the rebellion even before Katniss and Peeta came along and well ... lit their match on fire 🥁🤗🤣🤭

Katniss is like “rebellion??? Rebellion where??? What’s that you old people speak of???” And yet, girlfriend goes out to the woods and hunts illegally every day of her life 🤣🤣🤣🤣.

“But when I remember the other couples, standing stiffly apart, never touching or acknowledging each other, as if their fellow tribute did not exist” too lazy too look it up but there’s a quote from Ballad about Lucy Gray and Jessup being distinguished by their visible friendship too that set them apart from the other tributes.

Either Suzanne thought of drawing a nice parallel showing what a failed Everlark attempt looks like, because I firmly stand by the fact that without their real feelings behind their act, even Katniss’ unconscious ones, they wouldn’t have pulled it off, or Suzzie just reused her own content. I prefer the former but I think it’s probably the latter 🤭🤭🤭

“Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk." I know Haymitch is being facetious here but this quote reminded me of the fact that the movies would have hit differently if they’d cast actual sixteen year olds in the roles.

“When we get to my door, he leans against the frame, not blocking my entrance exactly but insisting I pay attention to him.” This is such a flirty, high school boy pose, you cannot convince me otherwise 😭😭😭

Also I definitely feel like Peeta is getting more and more confident here because he’s oblivious to Katniss’ inner monologue as much as she is his actually we all are his sadly and he probably thinks she’s starting to like him 🤧🤧🤧

“So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here." 🤣 He honestly cracks me up idk why this line isn’t even special or that great. He’s just so ... subtly nosy / funny. Which brings me to that quote from Mockingjay where Katniss talks about his sense of humor because it’s one of the things she loves most about him 😭😭😭

But he’s like, “I can keep a secret, Katniss, tell me who that tongueless chick is to you 😬”

Katniss stop talking about debts, friends cover for the other all the time 🙄🙄 I know it’s in her character stop yelling at a fish for swimming that’s not a real phrase I know that too

Okay first of all, they’re about to share a secret 🥰🥰🥰🥰. My shipper goggles are on tight and obstructing my vision. I know this and am proud 😬🥳🤗

And secondly, “Maybe sharing a confidence will actually make him believe I see him as a friend.” Hey, butthead, you two are already friends. She doesn’t even recognize that the girl who constantly sits with her, talks to her, eats with her and trades with her is her friend either though, I’m shocked she calls Gale her friend

Does Peeta get to know Cinna too? I don’t think so but it’s mentioned now a couple times in this chapter alone that Peeta has interacted with Cinna. Katniss never interacts or has a conversation with Portia.... then again, is that even surprising? Katniss isn’t ... what you would call ... social. Hashtag relatable.

Awww, they’re communicating so effectively together 🥰😭🤧🥳

Also rooftops belong to Everlark only 😍😊😉 I mean, seriously, Katniss never goes up on a rooftop with anyone else. Besides Haymitch in the first movie but we ignore.

“Electricity in District 12 comes and goes, usually we only have it a few hours a day.” Earlier she said the Seam didn’t often have electricity, in particular, so either she’s not specifying her section of the district anymore or Suzanne is backtracking.

“But here there would be no shortage. Ever.” I’ve had two power outages recently so clearly the Capitol isn’t based on us currently today then 😐😐 I’m just joking ok

“I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?” .... boyfriend, where does your mind go sometimes? Peeta’s darker than we realize, y’all 🤭🤭🙃🙃

“He holds out his hand into seemingly empty space. There's a sharp zap and he jerks it back” between this and Catching Fire, Peeta is addicted to getting shocked by forcefields 🤧🤧🤧

“I wonder if we're supposed to be up here now, so late and alone.” If this was a romantic drama or comedy, that line would have meant something a lot more fun 😒😔😬😉😏

“On the other side of the dome, they've built a garden with flower beds and potted trees.” Is this meant to resemble Snow’s grandmother’s garden???? Like he had them put a garden there to like ... put a piece of his Grandma’am in the games? Idk this made zero sense it was a stupid thought

Two people in a garden at night, with wind chimes, sounds romantic in any other context. 🥺🥺

Ummm does everyone in the entire district know Katniss and her father used to hunt together?

Oh nevermind, Lavinia is not from District Twelve. My bad, guys. I should go up and edit my previous thoughts but that’s a lot of work. 😅😅😅

Katniss, stop being so hard on yourself. You and Gale were kids. 😣😣

Ummm, Katniss for a girl always complimenting Peeta’s storyteller, you’re pretty good at painting a picture yourself...

Peeta noticing she’s shivering 🥰🥺

He gives her ... his jacket 😭😭😭😭 such a romantic troupe Samantha, get over it there’s literally children dying

Oh wow, Lavinia was from the Capitol originally. Hmm, it is sus now that she got District Twelve this particular year.

But also 🤧🤧🤧 “he secures a button at my neck.”

His hands .... are .... often .... at her .... neck .... 😶😬 .... look away, y’all

Oh wow, Katniss is over here thinking, “who’d leave the Capitol if they were from here???” And Peeta’s like instantly, loudly, without hesitating, “well I would 🙋🏼‍♂️”

Hot take, y’all ready? Peeta was a bigger rebel than Katniss from the start. At least internally.

Awww, Peeta is so jealous 😭😭😭😭 and kind of nosy 🤭🤭🤭

Katniss : “me and Gale are not related” Peeta : “😬🙃😭😩😶”

“I'd set out to tell her I was sorry about dinner. [...] my apology runs much deeper. [...] I let the Capitol kill the boy and mutilate her without lifting a finger. Just like I was watching the Games.” I feel like this is actually a good comparison though, because of you grew up in a society where you have to watch kids die, your whole entire life you’ve watched it in a glorified television show, you would be really desensitized to it...

“You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope.” Here she’s talking about Lavinia but it applies to Peeta too. Katniss was Lavinia’s last hope and she feels like she let her down but Peeta was her last hope once and he came through. And, as she said in chapter one, she’ll never forget him for it. And for other things too. Later on. 😏

Of course my last bullet point was focused on Everlark 🤣 is anyone surprised you shouldn’t be we all knew who this post was written by right? 😅

And once again, if too made through this marathon, congratulations 🥳🥳🥳🥳 maybe next chapter I’ll talk less not likely though so don’t count on it 😅

[ofmythsandmadness]

laughing like there’s any good reason to smile.

SUMMARY: diego did not think he’d be spending his night driving home a drunk weirdo like he ran a taxi company. and he really should have just not answered the phone, or said he was busy....but he was already out, he might as well do one more good deed for a NOT-friend who will not stop laughing.

WARNINGS: some language (not much, but i do like the word pisspot), romantic ideations, mentions of being drunk/alcohol. a little bit of oblivious mutual pining, too.

WORD COUNT: 3737 Diego Hargreeves x female insert.

A/N: I...I don’t know how I just wrote this. I legit just sat down and wanted to write a small drabble, and so I started this...and an hour later, after writing without stop I have this. It’s not edited, I have barely read through it at all. But it’s cute and messy and honestly, I don’t know what it is but I really like it. Which is surprising because I rarely enjoy a single word that leaves my mind and sticks on a page but I like this. it’s cute.

There are no TUA S2 spoilers in this, it takes place in a vague pre-s1, au bullshit that I like to base most of my work in (mostly because I’m quite lazy). 

“HEY...YOU’RE NOT LIKE...BUSY, ARE YOU?”

Of all the ways to start a phone call, that might be the worst.

Diego drove probably too quickly down the quiet streets, one hand off the wheel, fidgeting in his lap. It was too late to be out like this, out and about like any other schmuck with no life to care about, and yet there he was.

Like any other schmuck.

“I know you’re probably too-tally busy...you know...stopping crime - I whispered so nobody knows, don’t worry…”

The phone call might as well had been with the entire bar, for all Diego knew because of how loud the voice on the other end was. Loud, raspy and dipping in and out of strength. There was a slur to every other word, and long pauses that almost made him think she had hung up. Every single time, until he just got used to saying ‘you there’, waiting for the sentence to end.

“See...awwww, I fucked up. I did, I really….rea-aally did.”

He laughed at that. Couldn’t help it. Despite how hard he had tried to compose himself, be angry (because he really was, he had things to do, dammit!) he had to chuckle there. Imagining the scene on the other end; standing there, leaning up against the wall, too drunk to even stand but too wired to take a seat. He wasn’t sure how much had been drunk, but it would have had to be a lot. Of all the calls Diego got, so rarely was it of that sort.

And never from normally well-composed, generally serious people he mostly considered assholes that did everything in their power to piss him off every single day of his miserable existence.

“But I need a favour...dearest, darling Diego…”

He pulled the car up, hitting the brakes but leaving it running. Absent-mindedly, he contemplated the risk of that - money was tight, he had to be careful about everything - but shrugged it off and stepped out. He wouldn’t be that long, anyways.

The culprit stood, or slouched, outside of the shitty dive bar he had been called from. Diego took note of the disheveled clothes and especially, the state of appearance - he had become so used to one certain way, he had no clue that a person like Y/N could ever, ever, look so bad in their life.

In the back of his mind, he mused that even despite the messy clothes (and mismatched, really atrocious look if he had to call it anything) and hair, someone like Y/N could never look bad.

He tried not to acknowledge that thought.

“Hey, asshole.”

“Hey!” Y/N cried, as though she had not seen him pull up. Though, maybe she hadn’t - which would suck. Diego didn’t really want to deal with someone that drunk that night. “Hey-y, Diego!”

He rolled his eyes. “You look a mess.”

“And you look ab-so-lute-ly adorable,” she slurred. She leant off the wall and promptly fell on her face.

Or, she would have, had Diego not moved in and grabbed her waist, yanking her back up to him. Which turned out to be a stupid mistake on his end, because then she was just right there, in his arms, staring up at him and barely standing up. Her breath smelled like bad whiskey and her eyes rang red, less-so from the drinking and moreso, he assumed, from whatever drove her out here in the first place.

But all that hardly crossed his mind as they stood so entwined in front of the shitty bar in the middle of the open street.

“Well, well,” she cooed, allowing her grip to relax on his biceps. “This...is...this is ni-ice.”

“Nope. Nope, not doing this.”

He said that more to himself.

“C’mon,” he groaned, switching his grip so she stood beside him and not so close to his face. “Let’s get you out of here.”

She sighed but followed suit, though he felt more like he was dragging her than walking alongside her. Her head nestled against his arm, hair tickling against the skin as the wind wafted through the night air.

It was the closest the two had ever been. And more than closest then Diego had ever thought them getting.

He was not sure how to feel about that.

“My knight in black leather,” she sighed beside him, clinging tighter. “You’re a diamond in the dirt, you know?”

“Don’t think that’s the saying.”

“Mm...no. But you’re always...covered in dirt, you know?”

He grumbled something non-sequential under his breath. “C’mon. Sit down, si’down.”

Begrudgingly she obliged, though she struggled throughout the entire thing. It felt more like he was dealing with a criminal from way-back-when then a...well, a Y/N. Whoever she was.

“Does your car have seatbelts, dear knight?”

“Does my-” Diego cursed and slid the seatbelt into her fingers, practically guiding them down. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

She tried to gasp but laughed towards the end, so it was more of a huffy giggle than anything. “Why...Diego, is that how you treat a lady?”

“No,” he mumbled, “that’s how I deal with you.” He slammed the door.

Faintly, he made out her yell of ‘pisspot’, and smiled to himself.

He sank into his seat and sighed, pulling out and into the road. Twenty minutes, he mused to himself, just twenty minutes and she’d be gone. If Diego could do anything, he could easily handle a super drunk Y/N in his car, yammering for twenty minutes about nothing at all. 

He just had to focus.

“You kno-ow, you’re a grumpy grump, you kno...w?”

Diego said nothing.

“Do you need help with your seatbelt?”

He ignored her.

“Do you want me to drive?”

He answered that without hesitation: “no.”

She laughed.

He realised, sitting there, that he had never heard her laugh before - not really, unless faked chuckles thrown bitterly his way in one of their many disagreements counted, but he didn’t count them. Surprisingly, she had a nice laugh. Not one of those faux ones that he couldn’t stand, it wasn’t pretty, but it was real and loud and rang through the car like a Whitney Houston note; echoing everywhere.

“So grumpy, grumpy.”

He swallowed back his thoughts and just grimaced. “Shut up.”

Diego wished she would stop laughing.

They drove off and out of the miserable nightlife, with her giggling her ass off and him just trying not to lose his mind. He dared not look at her, though he knew her eyes hadn’t left his face. He wasn’t sure why she looked, and he really didn’t know why he couldn’t even just spare a glance, but he just...something about how human she was, real and raw and laughing in the passenger seat of his car like this was more than just a -

-he growled a curse to himself and turned the corner angrily.

A few moments later she had stopped laughing so much and had stuck with only a few giggles here and there. Y/N had taken up staring out the window, watching the people and houses and cars pass as though they were the most fascinating things in the world.

He looked at her then. Watched as she traced her fingers down the glass, staring with her mouth agape, eyes lidded and sad despite however much booze ran through her right then. She was more than drunk - she was tired. More than that, vulnerable in a way the two of them had never been.

That scared him more than the jokes and the laughter.

“Diego?”

His eyes shot back to the road. “Hm?”

“Why don’t you like me?”

“Hu-what?”

“Why do you hate me so-o much?” she asked again, that time with her voice smaller and a little higher. “I...I’m curious, what about me boils your bones...so.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yes you do!”

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do!” She wagged an accusatory finger towards his face, so close if he turned she’d surely jab his nose. “Yes...yes you do, you little...y’lil...muffin man. You hate my guts, and I think I have the right to know why!”

Diego rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing this.”

“Why? Are you afraid of hurting my feelings, grumpy grump? Cause,” she sang, rolling the syllables like this was a goddamn musical, “I’m afraid they’re already to-oo hurt, for you to do that. You’re in luck, muffin boy!”

“What does - stop calling me dumb shit,” he hissed.

She stuck her tongue out at him and poked his cheek with her hand.

He swatted it away angrily. “Shut up and let me take you home, okay?”

“No!”

“Well - yeah. Shut up.”

“Or what?”

“Or-” Diego didn’t know what to say to that. There was not much he could do, considering the circumstances - throwing her out of a moving car seemed much too cruel of a thought for anyone, especially a drunk Y/N who could barely figure out seatbelts for herself. Same with leaving her, or taking her anywhere else, or threatening a match or any other thing they’d normally do to one another. Not that he’d hurt her, anyways.

Not intentionally at least.

“You better tell me, or I’m….m...out!”

“You’re - out, what?”

Y/N’s hand found the car lock and with a grin, switched it off. “I’ll go right now!”

“You - you can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“You’re - you’re strapped into the damn car, you’re just gonna get hurt.”

“Why would you care?”

“I don’t!”

“So you do hate me?”

“No! I - jeez, Y/N!” Diego slammed his hands down on the wheel, spitting out curses he didn’t bother to hide. “Do NOT open the car door, okay? Don’t do that! Just sit down, and let me take you home!”

Somehow his speech worked. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she sank back into her seat. Her hands returned to her lap.

“Great. Thank you, so much. Amazing.”

She didn’t say a word.

He spared a glance her way, only to see her gaze had turned to the road. “Y/N? You good?”

Nothing.

“Y/N?”

Nothing.

“Oh, c’mon, I-” he sighed and slapped the steering wheel again. He hated how his heartstrings pulled at the silence, at how her words had stung - stupidly, irrevocably, no matter what he told himself, it hurt to think she truly thought he hated her. Cause stupid, irrevocably, somehow -

“-I don’t hate you, Y/N, at all. I just - don’t get mad at me, okay? I mean I’m taking you home, I would take you home if I hated your ass, right? I mean - what do you want from me here!?”

Diego took another glance, worried when she still said nothing, and promptly grew a thousand times more worried when he saw her shoulders heave and shake. Without even thinking, he swerved to the side of the road and braked hard before reaching out to her. “Y/N?”

And then she turned, and he saw instead of tears, it was laughter slipping from her lips, rolling out like great ripples of waves, silent and shaking through her body. Her eyes were tearing up, but not from sadness, instead the drunken giddiness she found herself lost within. But they were alight, and warm, and tipsy on the power that must have fuelled her fit of laughter in the first place.

 With a scowl, Diego sat back. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Wait, no! I - I just-” she heaved, and let out another peal of laughter - that time loud and echoing through the tiny car again. “Don’t be ma-aad at me!”

“I wish I hadn’t come, you know that? I should’a left you there, you...you asshole.” Despite himself, Diego felt himself grow flushed and embarrassed, struggling to even play this all off as anger. “You are the worst.”

She kept laughing. “I know you don’t mean that now, though! Ha - ha - you like me, darling, admit it!”

“Screw off.”

“You li-i-i-ke me!”

“Nope.”

“C’mon, you can’t lie to lil’ ol’ me, muffin man!”

“Don���t call me - stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Doing that!”

“Doing wha-at?”

“That! All’a that!”

Y/N’s lips pouted down, though he knew for a fact she wasn’t really upset. “So rude. One might even think you mean it.”

Diego started the car back up again, grumbling all the way through it. He shrugged off her touch. “I do mean that.”

“You know, I think I finally understand you.”

This car ride was beginning to feel like forever. It had only been maybe ten minutes of driving, and yet he felt like he had been trapped in some special sort of hell for a horrific eternity of embarrassment and...her.

“I get you, Diego...fuck! I don’t remember your last name, that’s really ruining this speech!” Her fist came down hard on the car door panel; he flinched. “Darling, what’s your last name again? I - I can’t do this power speech without it.”

He said nothing, indigent and grumpy.

“Whatever, I’ll make do. Um…” she was quiet for a second, then with a triumphant ‘a-ha!’, spoke again. “Okay. So I get you, Diego, I see you for who you are.”

Was his whole entire life leading up to this car ride straight to hell? Because if so, Diego could only wish time travel actually worked. Maybe then he could go back to 1989 and stop himself, somehow, maybe just-

“-you try so hard to make other people think you’re this grumpy lil’ pisspot of hatred and anger and ‘I work alone, move or be moved’ mantra. So, so hard, it makes everyone mad and hate you back, and you’re alone all over again.” She sucked in a heaving breath, sighed loudly and kept going. “But the real Diego, he doesn’t want that!”

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You don’t know what you’re goin’ on about, I suggest you stop before this gets stupid.”

She laughed, even louder than before. How was that even possible. “It already is! It’s all so stupid, Diego, because people could like you! I mean, you’re a lovely, soft little man underneath the knives and spandex and,” she dropped her voice low and grisly, “‘I hate everything and everyone and also...I’m Batman...woo...Gotham City...I stop crime…”

“Stop it-”

“-but you don’t have to be lonely, darling muffin man,” she cried, throwing her hands up and out in a triumphant cry. “You don’t have to! People like you, or they can like you - I might have to give this speech again, but that’s okay, do you have a pen and paper I can use to write it down?”

He ignored her, trying to force down the pounding in his heart. Trying not to think about a thing she was saying and how badly he wanted to respond to it, no matter how much bullshit and how she slurred her words and spoke in stupid rambles that made not much sense at all. But trying to convince a brain to not think about the very thing they can’t stop thinking about almost all the time, is a very difficult task and an impossible one for Diego, at that moment.

But he really, really did not want to think about how much he wanted to respond to her words.

“I like you, you know that?”

His eyes widened; barely a sign of weakness, and one she didn’t catch. But still there.

“I think you’re rude, and annoying, and dumb sometimes because you almost always get yourself hurt, and I don’t like that,” she rambled, swinging her hands about, conducting an invisible orchestra only she could hear. “But underneath all that stupid shit, you’re quite adorable, you know? And likeable. I feel so bad you feel the need to be so, so hard all the time.”

A beat, and then she laughed again,

“Ah! That’s what she said - ha, I said ‘hard….all the time…’ - tha’s what she said!”

Diego swerved the car to the side street and carried down, slowing until they were in the front of her apartment building. For a moment, he struggled to say a thing, finding the words lost in the chasm of his thoughts. But finally, he managed to speak again, forcing the anxiety down again.

“We’re here.”

“Wh-oh! You’re right.” Her eyes moved from his face to the window, pressing her nose against the glass. “Wow. That was so, so fast.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Thank you, so much, dear...darling...dear...Diego.” With a happy sigh, she unbuckled her seatbelt - he was surprised she was able to do so so easily - and climbed out of his car. “Thank you, and have an -oof!”

In the spirit of dumb drunk decisions, Y/N had taken too big a step backwards and promptly fell, right down on her face. And then laid there groaning and mumbling to herself, while Diego stared at her from his side unsure what the hell to do.

“Dammit,” he muttered, and unbuckled his own seatbelt. He hurried out of the car and over to her side. “How much have you had to drink?!”

“Not that much! I mean, a little much, but not thaaaaat much!” Her lips pouted, staring up at him above her. “Why, how much have you had?”

“N-none. Nothing. Stop it.”

Y/N giggled and sat herself up in the grass. Her gaze moved from his to the sky, mapping the stars through a foggy gaze.

Diego just watched her, unsure what to do or say, as she smiled and watched and mumbled to herself something he could not even try to make out. He swallowed, hard, trying to free his mind or how strangely beautiful she looked, sitting with grass in her hair and tears of laughter staining her cheeks.

It was so strange to see someone who he had forced himself to avoid at all costs, someone who he had grown to see in only one specific light so open and free like that. Uncaring, smiling, drunk off her ass but clearly doing at least a bit better than he was. 

His mind went back to what she had said in the car, the small comment about hurt. Why had she been drinking? What had led her, someone of such strict schedule, out alone to a shitty bar in the middle of the night, alone, then to call him? Surely she had more people she’d rather talk to - at least people who’d be nicer about helping her home. Why was it him she turned to?

“Diego?”

He looked back down. “Yeah?”

“Gonna help me up, or are you gonna just stand over me and wait for me to take you down? Cause, you know, I will-”

“-yeah, yeah.” Taking her outstretched hands, he tugged her up, that time more gentle in case of injury. As well, careful not to pull her too close. “You...you need help up?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I should be fine. I’ll call my roommate down, she’s great at helping people.” She smiled cheerily. “You’d hate her.”

Diego did not take the bait, though. He simply held her gently and guided her forward, to the apartment complex doors. He paused, ready to let her go, and then, 

“Why wouldn’t you just call her to get you, then?”

Y/N gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, dropping them down immediately after. “And miss out on this terrific bonding experience between the two of us, dear-ling?”

“Well - I-I just mean-”

“-sorry, Diego,” she said, that time a little softer. “I just wanted to see you, is that so wrong?”

“W-w-”

“-don’t answer that, I’m too tired for more of your sharp wit tonight.” Her words bled sarcasm, but her eyes remained bright and happy despite. Y/N then moved close to him, stepping shakily forward so she stood just in front before lifting up to her tallest height. Awkwardly, her hands finding his biceps, she pressed a kiss to the area between his mouth and cheek, into day-old stubble he had almost forgotten about.

Diego shivered.

She pulled back, scrutinizing his skin with furrowed brows. “Hm...I think I mis...nevermind. You be safe, muffin….okay?”

Diego found he could not say a word to that all, struggling to even nod back a response. Luckily, Y/n didn’t seem to need one. She nodded happily and swayed away, into her apartment complex. He watched her lean against the wall and call her roommate, lips moving animatedly in what seemed a more interesting conversation that he thought such a thing would have been.

Then she pulled away, and their eyes met again. Hers alive and his frozen, struggling still to comprehend what the hell had happened in that twenty-minute drive.

She smiled at him.

He couldn’t bring himself to do a thing. Just waited, making sure someone came down to get her before turning back to his car.

Diego moved through the actions of getting in, forcing his body to keep going even when his mind was barely moving at all. Mechanically he fastened his seatbelt, long fingers slipping away without even a thought, moving to start the car up again.

But then fell from the wheel, and up to his face. A hand traced the skin her lips had just touched. The skin was dry, but he could still feel somehow the imprint of her mark, pressing into his skin and stubble and being.

And then the hand fell away. Went back to the car, peeling out of the lot and off back to his own place. It dared not touch the skin again, for fear of being burned.

Diego tried to forget about it. Tried to sleep, work out, push through the thoughts radiating through his mind as though it was frozen on just one screen and didn’t know how to exit unto another. He stayed up all night, trying to rid himself of the memory and the thoughts and feelings and the way her eyes looked so stupidly bright in the street lights.

When he finally was able to sleep, it was restless and filled with torments of memories he did his best not to think about. And yet every time, the dreams cycled back to her, the her crying out stupid monologues in the passenger seat of his car, animated and loud and laughing like he had never heard someone laugh before. Drunk and in pain and clearly holding back something and yet alive, in a way he had not seen another human be in a long time.

Her gaze on him, every single time, just before he would wake up, smiling from ear to ear.

“I just wanted to see you, is that so-”

-and then he woke up.

Every time, smiling like a stupid idiot.

PART TWO - here.

[elletromil]

Pawnshop of curios meets old lady’s house

For @limrxspeaks and @stronglyobsessed

Enjoy the crack based on this post

Pawnshop of curios meets old lady’s house

Everyone is eying up James suspiciously as he pushes the gift towards Harry with a devilish grin. Even Harry is cautious as he starts to tear away the wrapping paper. He kind of regrets agreeing to participate in the Secret Santa exchange this year, but it’s so rare that he’s home around the holiday and not away on a mission. He had wanted to selfishly indulged in the good cheer with his friends. Pretend at a bit of normalcy.

The bland cardboard box that is revealed doesn’t give him any clue as to what the hell is making James giggle maniacally. Even Bors is edging away from him at this point and Bors has never had much survival instincts to speak of, just the most phenomenal luck.

But Harry refuses to show fear in front of all the other Knights. He’s got a reputation to uphold after all.

He slides the thing out of his box and after a moment of puzzlement joins James in his merriment.

“James, my good man, this is absolutely glorious.”

Judging by the groans from all the others, he’s the only one who seems to think so.

Whatever.

They’re probably only jealous not to be in possession of such a distinguished toilet seat.

***

Since it’s the second year in a row that he’s home around Christmas time, Harry had decided to show good manners and host the neighborhood party. And his decision really stemmed from the fact that he thinks community is important and not because he is bored and in need of cheap entertainment, no matter what Merlin said.

Anyway, Merlin really doesn’t have any ground to speak considering he accepted Harry’s invitation. And he’s the one gleefully keeping up a tally of how many children runs out of the loo in tears.

For someone who complains about the Knights’ juvenile behaviour daily, Merlin isn’t showing much maturity himself.

But then again, it’s Christmas. The man deserves a break.

And if he’s in a good mood, it means he’ll probably take Harry on for a little wager.

After all, Harry can’t be the only one interested in knowing which will be mentionned to him more, Mr Pickle taxidermy mount or the butterfly toilet seat.

And if not, well, the poorly disguised horror in everyone’s tone is amusing all on its own.

***

“Is that a dead monkey paw?”

Percival has always been a hard man to read, but after years of friendship, Harry thinks he’s showing genuine curiosity and not shocked disquiet like Mrs Hardwood from two houses down did the last time she had to use his loo.

“It is! My great-grand-uncle died last month and I got this in his will.” He had felt bad that he hadn’t had the time for a visit before the old man kicked the bucket, but George clearly hadn’t hold it against him. Or else he wouldn’t have left him such a cherished item.

“Hmm.” It’s apparently enough to satisfy Percival’s curiosity and he takes his seat back at the table as they continue trying to find a connection in a string of suspicious fires in Bristol.

He’s so used to Percival’s silences that he startles minutely when he speaks again.

“Did anyone ever tell you that your place looks like ‘pawnshop of curios’ meets ‘old lady’s house’?”

“No, never!” Not in those exact terms anyway. And it’s never been meant as the compliment Percival obviously intend it to be. “Thank you!”

The slight upward turn of Percival’s lips can only be called a smile as he nods politely.

***

“We were all very saddened to hear about Harry’s passing,” one of Eggsy’s new neighbours is telling him at the small wake he is holding for the man. The woman he assumes is his wife nods in agreement, but just a bit too fast to be sincere.

Not that they look happy about Harry’s death. Just kind of... relieved.

It’s still enough to make him want to yell at them and kick them out of the house, but like it or not, those people are going to be his neighbours from now on. He doesn’t want to start a fight, especially not today.

“So, what change do you think you’ll bring to the house?” The woman asks and for a moment Eggsy can only stare at her blindly. Changes? She thinks he’s going to change anything?

Why the hell would he do that? This house and everything inside is the only thing he has left of Harry.

Sure most of it is weird and some stuff is even downright creepy, but no. No he’s not changing anything. When his dad died, he only had a crappy medal to hold on to since his mum got rid of everything else in her grief. He’s not making the same kind of mistake.

Before he can say anything however he hears a few gasp and even the tell-tale ‘thump’ a body hitting the floor. He turns toward the entrance and freezes.

Because there, standing in the middle of the living room like he owns the place, is Harry Hart.

“Ha- Harry?”

It’s only when Harry’s eye fell on him and the other man smile with delight that Eggsy realises the meek voice had been his.

“Eggsy,” there are whole worlds of meaning in the way he says his name but their reunion is rather abruptly interrupted when one of the neighbour rudely points at Harry and starts to splutter.

“You! You’re, you’re supposed to be dead!”

Harry barely spares the man a glance before dismissing him, making his way to Eggsy. But, ever the gentleman, he still answer the wild claim.

“I’m afraid that reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

There’s another ‘thump’ as another neighbour faints.

***

Eggsy groans when he notices a new addition in the loo after coming back from his latest mission.

Sure the plaque is very tasteful, something that fits well with the more... ‘traditionnal’ part of the decor, like the pined butterflies. At least until one reads what is says.

“Harry! I thought we agreed to consult each other before adding anything new?”

Harry leans his head out of the kitchen, confusion writ all over his face.

“What are you talking about?” Eggsy narrows his eyes, but this is not Harry trying to be innocent. Mostly because Harry, for all his skills as a spy, is completely incapable of faking innocence. Whenever he tries, he only looks like a little shit.

“The plaque?”

“Oh! Oh that was a ‘welcome-back-from-the dead’ gift from Roxy. I didn’t think you would mind.” Harry looks genuinely sorry there. Which means he looks like a kicked puppy and Eggsy feels any residual frustration evaporates.

Anyway, it’s obviously Roxy’s fault. “It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting that.” But then again maybe he should have. All of their friends like enabling Harry’s weird decorating taste. “Let’s just make sure Daisy conitnues to use the bathroom upstairs.”

Because his mum definitely won’t appreciate Daisy getting nightmare from the omnious ‘If you complain you will be added to the collection‘ that has been engraved on the plaque.

[neighborhoodmoonchild]

My Last Hope (Clairvoyant!Taehyung x Spirit!Reader)

Genre: Supernatural Au, Angst

Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of insomnia, death, murder, stalking, POV switching

Word Count: 7K 

Running. Faster. Take the stairs three at a time. The crash of glass. A loud bang. A puddle of blood.

Taehyung awakens with a start, chest heaving and a thick layer of sweat causing goosebumps to break out across his sweltering skin. He’s disoriented, gaze hazy and not catching on anything to focus and ground him. He’s panicking. Rubbing furiously at his eyes and slowing his breathing to a steady rhythm, he sits up in his bed and peels the comforters away from himself. The light peeking in from his window helps him fix his attention and he remembers that he’s in his room, safe and sound. Just a dream.

A few hours later and dawn is stretching across the sky, lighting up Taehyung’s apartment as he marks another tally in his journal. That’s the 15th time. Nothing’s changed, no break in the days, it’s all the same. Rickety steps. Broken glass. Blood. But what does it mean?

After making himself breakfast and staring off into space for a good twenty minutes, he decides it’s a good enough time to start work. Working from home was the only way he could, somewhat, get anything done. Too many distractions flooded the outside world, too many things that catch his eye and his alone. In the safety and comfort of his own abode, at least he wouldn’t get weird stares when he spent too long searching for a glimpse of something not really there, or straining to hear something no one else could. 

Taehyung spends what he would say as a good hour of being ‘productive’ before he starts getting that weird sensation again. The one that tingles from his toes, up his spine, and into his head. The one that makes him feel full of static and like everything around him is alight and spinning.

Drawing his eyes away from the screen ahead to survey his surroundings, he tries once again to pinpoint the cause of his discomfort. There has to be something causing this, there is no way that this is just a normal thing now. After his efforts come up dry, he goes back to his laptop, ending his work to just blindly search the internet to try and shake it off. 

As if to make this strange feeling worse, Tae finally looks at what he’s been searching for the past twenty minutes, and it leads him to an address of a house. An old, abandoned, familiar house. 

His blood runs cold. Flashes of his nightmares course through his vision, and he has half a mind to close the laptop, put it somewhere far away from him and lock himself in his room. 

“Maybe I’m still asleep,” he murmurs quietly, taking a few mere seconds to collect his thoughts and calm himself down. But instead of dropping everything and moving on, he delves deeper into the place. Built in the early 1800s, abandoned a few years prior to the present, and about to be demolished by the end of next month. Nothing seemingly out of the ordinary, and Tae has plenty of experience with that.

Yet, something about it still pulls him in, beckons him to dive even deeper, until it’s almost 3 a.m. the next morning and his eyes glaze over so bad he can’t see straight. His head lolls back and he finally starts to fall asleep.

Crash. Broken glass. A scream. Blood. Tae shoots from his chair so fast it tips to the side and both come tumbling to the ground with a loud bang. His neighbors probably hate him already with the number of times he’s awoken in the night screaming when the nightmares began. 

He rubs his sore side and sits up with a loud sigh. A quick glance at the clock hanging on his wall says noon, and he’s grateful he got at least a few hours of semi-peaceful slumber. Even after his nap, however, he still feels that tingling sensation at the back of his neck. 

When he looks back up at the picture of that house on his laptop, the feeling grows until it’s coursing through every fiber of his being and he can’t just ignore it anymore. If he’s being honest, Tae does that a lot. When it all becomes too much for him, his preferred course of action is to pretend it doesn’t exist. If only things were ever that simple. 

Pencil scratches haphazardly across paper as he takes note of the address in his journal. Now, trespassing in some creepy rundown house all the way over on the east side of town is not what Taehyung would call a good time by any means, but it sounds better than a lifetime of nightmares and static nerves. Sometimes the best way to face a nightmare is head-on and hopefully he can keep his. 

—

That night, as Taehyung drives away from the familiar buildings that make up his block in favor of the desolate rural houses that make up the east side, that feeling inside his body seems to grow. However, it was no longer an uncomfortable, static feeling, more like, a fuzzy warmth he didn’t know he was capable of. 

If his intuition has taught him anything, it was that this is a sign he’s finally doing something right, and he rarely gets those. 

Driving at night made him a bit uncomfortable, not going to lie, but he didn’t have much of a choice. The house was too far to walk and he wasn’t sure if he’d even make it there if he walked alone. In the dark. At night. 

Taehyung is prone to giving himself anxiety he surely doesn’t need, he argues it’s one of his many charms. When he finally pulls up to the house, well, he actually parks a block away so it wouldn’t be too suspicious, he starts mulling over all the possible outcomes of tonight.

99% of them end poorly. 

Just as he is about to put the key back into the ignition and give up on his dumb theory, the feeling overwhelms him to the point he feels sick. He flings his car door open and heaves himself out onto the concrete, sure he was about to vomit. 

It takes him a second to collect himself, pushing off the ground to come to a wobbly stand. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll go.” He’s not sure why he’s addressing the feeling as if it were another being, it’s just this sense he gets that it’s trying to tell him he needs to buck up and do it already. 

Great, so even mystical forces are calling him out for being a coward, awesome. 

Brushing himself off, he stalks to the back of his car, grabbing his bag and a flashlight out of the trunk and starts towards the house. 

The closer he gets, the creepier everything seems to get. The paint is peeling off the siding, broken windows haphazardly boarded up. As he ascends the few steps up to the porch, each one creaks in a different pitch, adding a terrifying soundtrack to the night. 

Taehyung stares at the door, falling slightly off its hinges and debates whether it was right to go in or not. It’s not like he was invading anyone’s privacy, nobody had lived there in years.

His hand slowly reaches out to grasp the door handle, the cool metal of it contrasting the burning of his skin. He’s not just nervous, he’s terrified.

He’d never investigated his feelings before, and none of them had ever been quite as strong as this one. He was worried if this would make his affliction worse, or if this was all going to be some trap.

Again, Taehyung was mildly paranoid, but for good reasons. 

A loud creak sends a shiver up his spine as the door swings open, the gust of air it created sending some dust and cobwebs into the air.

His head shoots from side to side, making sure no one was watching him before he enters the house, careful of his steps. 

The inside of the house didn’t look as old and battered as the outside; in fact, it looks pretty normal aside from the ominous white sheets covering a few pieces of furniture and the spiderwebs making their homes in every corner. 

Despite his fight or flight response telling him to book it back to his car, he pushes himself to keep going, looking around as if he were searching for clues for something.

Maybe he was?

Taehyung does his best to check out both the first and second floor, not so much investigating, more so just trying to occupy his mind so he didn’t freak himself out, 

Upstairs he found a room at the far end of the hall that connected to a balcony. The room itself was nice, as nice as any abandoned house could be. The walls were a soft light yellow, intricate filigree detail, a vanity at one side and a bed at the other. 

He felt almost cozy in the room, something he hadn’t felt in any of the others. It was significantly less creepy and as his eyes roamed over every inch of the place, it felt almost familiar to him somehow. 

The door to the balcony overlooks the backyard, a roaring river cutting through it, woods at the other edge.

He watches the water rush and splash violently over the rocks and sees a small patch of dirt eroding at the bank. He’s not sure if it’s the air or the sight that makes him feel so cold. There’s a small set of stairs that lead from the balcony back down to the first level, so he takes each one cautiously and hops to ground. 

As he is about to head closer to the strange patch of dirt and grass washing away, he hears the distant roar of sirens, shaking him to his core. 

Taehyung books it back to his car, throwing his bag and flashlight in and tearing away from the sidewalk as quickly as he can. 

It doesn’t even matter that they might not have been for him, something in the pit of his stomach said something was very wrong and he wouldn’t stick around to find out.

Taehyung passes the cop car on his way out of the neighborhood, tensing up every muscle in his body. The officer doesn’t slow down or go after him, so he figures he’s in the clear. It’s not like he was doing anything super illegal anyways, right?

Tae is long gone when the officer arrives at the house. He’s been here before, right after the accident. He wasn’t happy to be called back after a neighbor called in a possible vandal. He was already in the area, though, and decided he’d humor them. 

The officer does his rounds, checks the house, the front yard, the basement.

It’s when he heads back out toward the river, the same bank catches his eye. Just to be safe, he gets closer, but the closer he gets the weirder things get.

There, at the edge of the bank, the mud washing away into the water, he sees a bone.

This just turned into a crime scene. 

—

Taehyung wants to sleep in, he deserves it after the shit he put himself through last night. There’s this nagging feeling trying to wake him though and after fighting with it for too long, he decides it’s just not worth it anymore.

Sitting up, long yawn escaping as he stretches his limbs out, his eyes catch on the remote on the sodden table in front of him. He reaches out to grab it, flicking the TV on, it opening on a random channel. 

Seems normal enough, but Tae never watches TV in the morning.

It’s when his eyes read the words ‘Missing girl’s body found’ on the ticker across the bottom of the screen, he pales, turning up the volume to hear the story. 

“News sources say the body of 22 year old Y/F/N Y/L/N, who went missing 5 years ago, has been found in the backyard of her childhood home.” 

The shot cuts to the scene unfolding behind the reporter, the house from last night as clear as day on the screen. Taehyung thinks he actually feels his heart stop beating. He’s sweating buckets, goosebumps easing across every inch of his skin. He can’t breathe. 

“You know, I really wish you had found me first dummy.” 

Taehyung jumps out of his at the presence of an unknown voice right next to him, plummeting to the ground with a loud thud. 

There you sat, on his couch, head in your hand, staring at him like he was being dramatic.

“Who the hell are you? How did you get in my house?” His questions come out as short gasps, figuring he really was in the middle of a heart attack or something. He was dying, that was the only plausible explanation.

“What, you’ve never seen a ghost before ‘Ghost Whisperer’?” Your sarcastic comments don’t phase him, he’s still too stunned about everything happening he’s not sure what to do.

“I’m going crazy, aren’t I?” He says it more to himself, but you take it as an invite to comment.

“No, you’re no crazier than you were yesterday or any other day before that.” 

He scoffs, rubbing his elbow that bashed against the edge of the coffee table when he fell, “Yes I am, obviously, since I’m seeing,” he points to you, not actually looking at you, scared of what could happen, “you, and you’re apparently a-a-“

“Ghost. Spirit. Apparition. A dead person.” He finally looks at your face and just stares for a second taking and processing the information. 

“Right,” is all he can muster.

You stand up and walk over to the TV, crouching down and staring at the scene, your body being pulled from the earth by the river. If you could feel pain or sickness, you’re sure you’d be thoroughly feeling them right now. 

You’re hand slowly comes up to the screen, finger pointing to the body bag strapped to the gurney as it’s rolled out of your yard and into an ambulance, “That’s me.” You’re telling him, but your also telling yourself.

Taehyung doesn’t know what to do. First of all, there’s a fucking ghost in his house. Second, there’s a dead body at the house he visited last night. Third, there’s a fucking ghost in his house.

Taehyung has seen crazy things before, but never a full-bodied apparition like you. What does one say to a ghost as they watch their body be found? Can you comfort a ghost? Did he want to comfort you?

In all honesty, it took everything Taehyung has in him to not piss himself he is so freaked out. 

You turn back around to face him, “Do you know why I’m here, Taehyung?” 

His eyes widen, “You know my name too? You just show up in my house like you know me?” 

You roll your eyes, walking over to him, trying not to be too offended when he scoots away. You crouch down next to him this time, “I’ve been with you for a while, actually, I just didn’t have the capacity to do this,” you gesture to your ‘body,’ “until now apparently.” 

He leans a bit closer, intrigued at your revelation, “What do you mean you’ve been with me for a while?”

Before he can move away, you shoot your hand out to rest on his shoulder. He suddenly gets that overwhelming tingling sensation again, but it’s so much stronger now. 

You pull your hand away when you see the realization on his face. 

“Wait, have you been, like, inside of me this whole time.”

Another eye roll, “No, I was not inside of you, more like floating around you, simply put.”

You both sit there in awkward silence for a few seconds, before he runs his hand through his air exasperatedly, “So what now?” 

Your eyes widen in excitement. Now you’d finally get a chance to understand why you’ve been stuck here for so long.

“You are going to help me figure out how I died.”

—

“No.”

“You have to.” You feign a pour and push his shoulder. Tae ignores you, pretends he can’t hear, feel, or see you.

It’d been two days since your abrupt appearance, and in those two days you’d sufficiently annoyed the shit out of Tae. There was no way he was getting involved in an open murder investigation.

“The cops will figure it out, go annoy one of them.” 

You step in front of him, blocking his way to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

“You’re the only one that can help me, I already told you that.” A huff escapes your lips when he pushes past you, your arms folding across your chest as your attention follows him.

“Nope. You’ve got the wrong guy, I’m not helping you.” 

“Why not?” Leaning across the counter, you catch him roll his eyes, making your agitation grow. 

“Because I can’t.” 

“Why?”

“Maybe someone murdered you for being so goddamn annoying,” Tae whispers to himself over his mug, but you still hear it, pushing away from the counter to approach him.

“Why are you such an asshole?” He smirks, finding it funny when you got so riled up.

“Why are you so annoying?” Oh, if you could muster up enough energy to physically slap him, you would. 

Turns out full body projecting is harder than you thought, and while you’re glad you can at least do that, you wished you could touch things again.

The only thing you can do is sigh, turning away from him, “It’s not like I had a choice of who can see me or not.” 

You’d spent years wandering alone in limbo, an in-between, roaming the earth with no guidance. You couldn’t remember anything about what happened, except for a few small things long before it.

There was no light, no pearly white gates and angels to welcome you to heaven. There was no fire and screaming like hell. You were just there, in your house, surrounded by people but no one could see or hear you. If it was possibly, watching your family live on without you would’ve killed you again. 

You’d spent years trying to find one person, just one, to acknowledge you, but you’d always come up empty. 

Then you came across Tae. It was when he spent more time out in the world, before he let the things he could see drive him to hole up in his home. You’d sensed another spirit in the area, and tried to locate it, to maybe have someone or something to talk to. 

You saw Tae, staring in the direction of the energy source, but you couldn’t see what he was looking at. He looked scared.

You approached him, forgetting he was a living being and you were not. It was when you lay your hand on his shoulder to comfort him, and he reacted, you’d realized you’d found the one person who could feel you. 

You’d stuck around ever since, and as your energy grew (you may or may not have been borrowing some of Tae’s), you influenced him more and more until he’d decide to go to your home. 

Since you had no memory of how you died, you figured that’d be a good place to start looking for answers on how to pass on. 

Taehyung was the only tether you had to the living world, whether you both liked it or not. You’d spent too long wandering around and you were done. You wanted answers, you wanted to be at peace. 

You let yourself dissipate into the air, figuring it was more trouble than it was worth to use up your energy on fighting with him. You just needed some time to yourself, and figured so did he. 

When he watches your figure disappear, he can’t help the guilty feeling crawling up his throat as the coffee slides down. It was just all so much to take in right now and with the investigation, a murderer on the loose, and you, he felt overwhelmed. 

He knows it’s just as hard on you, though, too, and wishes he’d been more sensitive. 

Taehyung was always good at saying the wrong things. 

—

After his comment, you’d been more distant lately, and whether he liked to admit it or not, he kinda liked having you around, even though you were annoying as hell. 

Taehyung has been on his own for so long, he had forgotten what it was like to have a friend, and while you were dead, he thought a ghost friend was better than no friends. 

So, even though he didn’t like nor know what he was doing, he decided he’d at least look into what happened 5 years ago.

Flashback

“Yes, I’m fine, I’ll be home in, like, 10 minutes.” You hang up on your mom, knowing that she’ll probably reprimand you once she sees you, but you were too excited to care. 

You’d stayed after school to help the Art Club decorate for their Halloween fundraiser this weekend, and the President asked you if you’d like to dress up and work the haunted house with him. 

Kim Namjoon is many things, but forward was not one of them. You cool accepted, even though you were jumping up and down on the inside. The Kim Namjoon was asking you to hang out Saturday night. It was like a dream come true. 

Your walk home was filled with going over all the different ways the night could play out, your lovesick mind always ending it with you both kissing and living happily ever after. Cliche, but you couldn’t help it. 

As you rounded the corner to your block, you felt uneasy, like you were being watched. Calmly looking over your shoulder, you sand your surroundings for eyes. The street was pretty empty, though, save a few parked cars and the rare one heading down the road. 

You shake your head, waving away any paranoia and keep going.

What you didn’t see was the familiar red car parked down the road from your house, it’s occupant’s eyes following your every move.

That night, after a lighthearted scolding from your mother, you help her wash the dishes from dinner, your dad placing a kiss to the tops of your heads before retiring to his office for the night. He worked a lot, but you couldn’t hold it against him, he was a good dad.

Bidding your mother Goodnight, you retire to your room to wash up and start the pile of homework that had grown on your desk.

As you tackle what you can with your fluffy pajamas giving you strength, you get that weird sensation of being watched again. You turn your head to stare out the door to your balcony into the backyard. 

Nothing. 

Creeped out and tired as hell, you draw your curtain, turn the light off, and go to sleep. 

Saturday came quicker than you could hope, the excitement over your costume and your date/not date with Namjoon skyrocketing your mood. 

Joon had met you in the hallway before school let out on Friday to ask you if it was alright if he picked you up, to which you quickly said yes. He told you what his costume was earlier that week, but when he’d asked about yours, you said it was a surprise. 

You kept it classy but cute and chose something that you knew and Namjoon would appreciate. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he showed up at your door. 

You walked home again that evening, the feeling of being watched lingering through the whole walk. You were bothered, but you didn’t want anything to spoil your mood. 

In retrospect, you should’ve said something. 

The last thing you remember is going to a haunted house with Joon, something happening, and walking home.

Then, nothing.

End Flashback

Tae’s research into the known details of your disappearance came up short. The only thing he could gather was that you were on your way home from a school event but never showed up. 

The police told your parents that at your age, it was normal for kids to just disappear for a few days. 

After 3 days, they started a missing persons search. 

Weeks of looking came up with nothing. 

The investigation started out as possible foul play, but after some evidence was unearthed, it turned into a runaway. 

No criminal evidence found, no new details or leads, and the case quickly went cold. 

To the town, you were just another teen runaway.

Your parents fought hard for justice, knowing there was no way you’d run away, but the more time passed, the more tired they got. Funds dried up, people made horrible clamping about you and your family, and they didn’t know how to fight anymore.

They lost their only daughter and no one seemed to care.

In the end, they sold the house and moved as far away as they could. 

The hope that they’d find their daughter alive diminished until it no longer existed.

Taehyung felt a sorrow he’d never known before. How could something like this happen to anyone?

From his point of view, it looked like the only ones who took it seriously were your parents. 

How could the authorities brush away someone’s life like that?

You’d been with Tae for so long, you could tell the changes of his emotions, and a pang of sadness shot through you that felt familiar. 

Despite still being mad at him, you appeared behind him, looking over his shoulder at the screen of the laptop to see article after article about your disappearance. Then, focusing on Tae, you the smallest tear slide from the corner of his eye. 

Your arms reach out to wrap around him, phasing right through him but he can feel your presence. 

Eyes squeezed tight, you wished you could feel him, not just to comfort him, but to feel comfort yourself. All you could do, though, was try.

“I’m sorry I was a jerk.” Tae doesn’t turn from the screen to address you, he just closes his eyes, focusing on the static feeling from your ‘touch.’ 

“I’m sorry I was annoying.” He cracked a pathetic grin, finally turning when you had pulled away.

He sticks his hand out, offering it to you to shake. You look  at him confused, knowing you can’t grab it, but he just waves it up and down until you stick your hand out and put it near his. 

You imitate a shake and a giggle escapes your lips, “What was that all about?”

“I’m going to help you find the truth.” Your eyes shoot open, locking on his. There is no hint of sarcasm, just pure determination.

Taehyung was going to help you find peace if it was the last thing he did. 

It was what you deserved, what your parents deserved, and he wasn’t going to let anyone brush you aside again. 

—

“Are you sure this guy can help, Tae?” You whisper, trailing behind him as he heads deeper into the building. 

Taehyung, before his affliction took over, had actually had friends of his own before. One, a few years older, had become a detective a few years back, at least, that’s what he’d heard.

Yoongi was a serious guy, and he had a passion for finding justice, and Tae knew he was just the man to aid them on their investigation.

Taehyung was realistic. He knew there was no way he’d be given access to the new evidence or the open murder investigation. 

He needed someone on the inside, someone who knew the game and how to play, but could still be trusted.

So, he emailed Yoongi, very vague just in case, and he’d offered to meet Tae today in the old warehouse they all used to hang out in when they were teens. 

Here you were, standing exactly where Yoongi had agreed upon, when Tae hears footsteps.

Yoongi approaches carefully, seeing his old friend right where he told him to be. 

He wasn’t going to lie, he had absolutely no idea what Taehyung could possibly call him out here for, and his email didn’t help. 

Having not seen him in years, Yoongi goes in for a simple handshake, but Tae goes straight for a hug. He missed his hyung, more than he’d thought once he actually saw him. 

Yoongi wasn’t ever one for physical contact, even when they were younger, but he knew there must be an important reason for meeting, so he let the kid hug him.

“Thank you for meeting me Yoongi, sorry I haven’t kept in contact these past few years.” Tae feels guilty for shutting his friends out, but he didn’t know what else to do, they’d never understand.

Now, he needed at least Yoongi to.

“It’s okay, we all got busy. So, why are we here?” Yoongi wanted to get down to business, he didn’t like idle chit chat. 

“Right. This is going to sound crazy, but I need your help solving a murder.” 

He’s surprised to say the least. At first, his mind jumps to Taehyung being involved in something serious, but he knows his friend well enough to know he’d never commit murder.

“Why are you investigating a murder?”

Tae rubs the back of his neck, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

“I’m just going to be honest with you. Don’t laugh, and please, hear me out.” 

Tae waits for the elder to oblige before beginning.

Once he goes through all the nitty-gritty details, he can tell by the look on Yoongi’s face that he doesn’t believe him. Tae looks from Yoongi to you, then back again, and wonders how the hell he’s supposed to prove himself.

“Taehyung, it’s not funny to waste people’s time.” Yoongi turns to leave, and Taehyung starts panicking. Yoongi was his only lead, as if this didn’t work out, he wasn’t sure what else he could do. 

You can tell the situation is turning sour, so you figure the best way to prove Tae is telling the truth, is to prove you’re there.

You search your surroundings quickly, finding a piece of pipe on the ground. You grab it, mustering up all the energy you possibly can until you actually feel it in your hands. 

You push away the excitement and focus on moving it. Slowly, you drag it over until you’re blocking Yoongi’s exit. 

He stands there, staring at the seemingly floating pipe, and is wondering if he’s lost his mind.

You take the opportunity to write your name in the dirt as bets you can. You’re growing weaker, but you finish it and the pipe drops to the ground.

Tae watches your form dissipate into the air again, afraid you’d disappeared, but he feels your presence at his shoulder again, so he relaxes. 

Yoongi, on the other hand, is staring at the dirt, frozen, mouth gaped wide, and pale as a ghost. 

“Believe me now?” 

Yoongi followed Tae back to his house and they start their dive into the case.

—

Yoongi is able to get his hands on some of your files, both new and old, and the two of them start a board to piece the puzzle together. 

The only problem, they have no idea where to even begin.

You go over the events you remember with Tae as best you can, Tae filling in Yoongi and then adding new information to the board. 

You stare at it, your picture idly in the center, pictures of everyone you knew around you, as well as crime scene photos, news clippings; everything.

The longer you stared at it, the more frustrated you got. Yoongi and Tae’s leads kept coming up empty and they were no closer than when they first began.

“Are you sure she’s telling us everything?” Yoongi questions Tae, and you scoff, even though he can’t hear it. Tae looks at you with a smile, before turning back to Yoongi and nodding.

“Apparently.” Tae, even though he was finally helping you, didn’t lose his joy in antagonizing you, but you had your own fun so it was only fair. 

You’d hide his things, or phase through him because he said once it felt weird, so you’d do it just to annoy him. Annoying Tae became your new favorite thing.

“Didn’t she say she felt like she was being watched when she was walking home?” Yoongi turns from his puzzled stance towards the board to where Tae was staring, figuring it was you.

You nod, and Tae relays it to him.

“How long had she had that feeling?” 

You had to think about it. So many years had gone by, it was harder and harder for you to recall memories from your past. Bringing up so much at once, now, though, was helping them resurface.

You remember the feeling starting around 4 months before the incident. You’d been to a party one night when the cops showed up to send everyone home. It was when you were escorted to one of the cars that you first felt it.

After that, it’d only gotten worse, but you weren’t sure how to bring it up to your parents, or if you even should. It wasn’t like you could prove it, it was just a feeling. 

The harder you thought, the more memories flooded. 

You tried to picture every instance in your mind as it happened. The party, after practice, the dance, fall festival, these were all the times you could remember it happening. 

After the first month, it started happening when you were at home. You could see yourself in the moment clearly, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find any connection. 

After Tae relayed all of this to Yoongi, he just stood there staring at the board for a while. Tae grew tired quickly, leaving the room to make some coffee, and you followed.

“I’m sorry I’m not much help,” you admit, face turning down in a frown. You hated that you couldn’t remember that night or what had happened to you. It wasn’t fair.

Tae turns to you quickly, sympathetic smile on his lips, “It's not your fault, we’ll figure this out, I promise.” He holds his pinky out to you, causing you to smile, bringing yours up to lay next to his. 

It was simple gestures like this between the two of you that made you almost feel like you were alive again. 

Tae is about to say something when Yoongi shouts for him to come quick. You both sprint into the living room, seeing Yoongi circling something in every crime scene photo frantically. 

“What do you see in all of these photos?” He asks, even though he already knows the answer. Tae takes a closer look, you just behind him peeking around his shoulder. You see the faint image of the same man in every single picture.

He’s not close enough to quite make out, but he’s definitely in every single one. It’s eerie, the man standing just outside the frame, staring at the scene. It sends shivers through you, well, as much a shiver as an entity can feel.

“There’s the same guy in every picture!” They both exclaim together, clapping hands together in the air. Yoongi and Tae finally had a lead. 

Tae turns to you, “Do you recognize him?” You stare at one as hard as you can, but the image is too fuzzy for you to know for sure. 

“I don’t know,” is all you can offer. Tae looks a bit disappointed, but it doesn’t last long, Yoongi offering, “We can get these enhanced so she can have a better look.”

With that, they call it a night, well, you call it a night, while the boys continue, too excited to stop any time soon. 

Yoongi decides it’d be better to stay with Tae until they can figure this out.

—

A knock on Tae’s door at 5 a.m. has everyone in the house scrambling.

Yoongi is the first to get presentable, opening the door to two local officers.

“What can I help you with officers?” He says, gritting his teeth. Local cops were a bane in Yoongi’s existence. Nothing against the position, he’d had to go through it himself, but nowadays, he remembers just how incompetent and cocky they can be.

“Is Kim Taehyung here? We’d like to ask him a few questions about his whereabouts the night of October 19th.” Yoongi is about to ask them why the hell that was necessary when Tae comes up behind him.

“I’m Kim Taehyung,” he says, trying to sound confident but failing miserably. When they brought up the night he’d visited your house, he knew things were about to go down.

“Were you at this address that night?” One officer shows the address along with a picture of the house to Tae, to which he shakes his head.

  “I drove through the neighborhood to go see a friend, but that’s it.” 

Tae didn’t want to lie, but something in his gut told him the truth would end a lot worse. 

The officers look from each other back to him.

“We have a witness account identifying you at the house that night, sir.” Tae thinks he’s done for, but Yoongi comes in with a quick save. 

Luckily, Tae had brought Yoongi up to speed on everything, so he knew he could set the perfect alibi. 

The officers don’t look too convinced, but they leave. Yoongi shuts the door and Tae releases the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in.

“That one officer looked familiar.” You say, popping up behind Tae, causing him to jump. He swears one day you will actually kill him.

“Which one?” Yoongi questions, walking into the living room, the both of you following suit. 

“The taller one with the dark hair and mustache. I’ve seen him before.” 

Yoongi takes this information from Tae and scours the board. His finger shoots out to one of the photographs.

“That’s him,” he says and then gestures to the figure next to him. It clicks in everyone’s mind that the man next to the officer is the same man in the rest of the pictures. 

“You don’t think...” Tae starts, everyone taking glances at each other in silence. 

“We might have just found a rat.” 

—

“You can’t just bring him in without reason!” Yoongi yells as the officer escorts Tae out of the building and into the car.

He ignores Yoongi, taking Tae away.

Yoongi follows pursuit in his own vehicle. 

After a few hours of interrogation, Tae exits the police station, finding a furious Yoongi in the lobby.

“What the hell did they want?” Yoongi shouts, storming after Tae. Tae just gets into Yoongi’s car and slams the door. 

It’s not until they get home that Tae shares.

“That cop from the photo, he tried to get me to confess to being at the house that night.” 

Yoongi runs his hands through his hair, clearly exasperated, while you watch on in silence.

“Did you tell them anything?” 

Tae scoffs, “Of course not!”

The room goes quiet, tension thick in the air. 

Yoongi is worried their investigation is blown.

Tae is worried your murderer will get away.

You’re worried for your new friends’ well-being.

“Let’s just stop.” You say, eyes trained on the floor below. Tae shoots up from his place on the couch, looking at you in disbelief.

“No way, we’re so close, I can feel it.” He says, approaching you.

You look up at him, lips curling down, “I don’t want anything bad happening to you.” 

Tae isn’t sure what to say. He’s too invested in this to let it go over a little scare with the police. This was bigger than all of you knew, and he couldn’t let your chance at peace slip away over him.

“I did learn something new though.” Tae turns away from you to address Yoongi, ignoring your wishes for him to stop.

“I saw that cop talking with a guy that looked just like the photo guy when I was leaving. They were whispering and looking around all suspicious.” 

All of a sudden their off on theory tangents and you’re too exhausted from worrying about Tae to stick around.

Yoongi is finally able to enhance one of the photos a day later, enough to get a clear look at the mystery man. 

When you finally look at his face, it’s like opening Pandora’s box. 

That night, after the haunted house, Namjoon offered to drive you home, but an emergency came up. 

You told him it was no problem and instead of calling one of your parents, you decided to walk home. 

You enter the part of town that had few houses with far stretches of woods in-between. You were spooked, but there was nothing to do about it, so you kept going.

A red car pulls up next to you, a familiar face, the officer, through the window offering you a ride. 

You accept even though your whole being is saying that something isn’t right.

There’s someone else in the car you didn’t notice before. 

He never takes you home.

You’re standing there, shaking, eyes wide in fear and Tae can sense the overwhelming terror coursing from you.

“Are you okay?” Tae asks, concern taking over his body.

“He offered to drive me home...Tae.. he never took me home.” You sob, falling to the ground. Tae goes to comfort you but remembers he can’t. He can’t touch you. He can’t hold you as you fall apart. He can just watch.

Yoongi is standing there, utterly confused, but when he sees his friend drop to the ground, he stops what he's doing.

Tae stares at you, hurt evident on his face, guilty he can’t help you, and then looks up at at Yoongi. 

A tear slips out of one of his eyes, but it’s not from sadness, it’s from anger. 

“Those bastards are gonna pay.”

When you finally remembered, your energy had completely depleted. Tae couldn’t see or feel you and he was growing more worried by the second. He didn’t let that stop him from helping Yoongi go back to the house to search for evidence. 

When they pull up, they see a car parked outside.

Your killer is here.

Tae tries to rush at him, fury telling him to beat the living shit out of him. Yoongi holds him back, keeping him in the car until the man leaves. He manages to snap a few pictures for evidence, and reminds Tae that if he does anything stupid, it’ll ruin everything.

After a few minutes pass, another car pulls up. This time, your parents step out of the vehicle, staring at the house they once called home. They look tired, like they haven’t slept in days.

He bets they never thought they’d be back here, let alone to bury their daughter. 

They wait till they leave, finally leaving the vehicle to search.

Coming up with nothing, Yoongi offers to go back to his office and try the resources there.

Weeks go by, the local authorities slowly leaning towards another cold case. Yoongi and Tae, however, are hot on the trail.

Yoongi was able to use his clearance to look at the evidence the police filed away. There, he was able to draw connections to you and the man. Multiple witness statements had been disregarded when it came to a familiar looking man seen around your school and on your path home. 

The evidence was quickly piling up, and it was firing up the boys. 

The match to set the whole thing ablaze? Tae found a connection between you, the man, and the cop you recognized. 

Turns out your father had filed a complaint against the town for the man showing up in your backyard one day. The cop to address it? The same one. The suspect is the cop’s younger brother who has a history of stalking underage girls.

Yoongi was right in his opinion on local cops, the bastard was covering it all up, probably even helped him.

Going to his superiors, Yoongi was able to get jurisdiction over your case. 

The greatest day in Taehyung’s life was watching the two men get taken away in handcuffs.

Your parents invited both Taehyung and Yoongi to your service, and you gave Tae the okay to go. 

He stood with you at your casket, closed considering the amount of time and decay your body had gone through. 

He cried that day, more than he ever had before. Not just because he was burying a friend he never truly got to meet, but because you finally got the justice you deserved. 

Tae throws his tie on the couch when he get home, entering the living room, plopping down to rest against the back of it. 

You just stand before him, watching him breath, his eyes closed.

You walk forward, leaning close. 

As Tae opens his eyes, he sees your figure close, and then feels the sensation of lips on his forehead.

You poured all of your strength into this final goodbye. You could feel the warmth of his skin as your lips pressed to his forehead, leaning away to see him staring in shock.

He reaches out to grab your hand as you back away. His fingers graze yours, and you both feel the sensation of physical contact. 

“Thank you Tae, for everything.” 

You finally passed on. 

He cried for the second time that day.

—

Years later, Taehyung is back in town. It’s the anniversary of your death, and he wanted to visit. His right hand is wrapped tight around one much smaller than his, his left arm holding another tiny figure close. 

He knows the path to your stone by heart. When they approach, he stops just before it, staring at the words. He lingers over your name and smiles. 

“Daddy, where are we?” The little one lets go of his hand and instead holds the small bouquet of flowers close to him.

Taehyung looks down at the little boy and smiles, patting his head.

“I want to introduce you to my old friend.” He says, gesturing forward, the little boy taking the bouquet and setting it down by your stone. 

He sets the youngest at his feet, dropping to sit down in front of your headstone, gathering his children in his lap. 

“Do you want to hear the story about how I met my best friend?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This. Is.  a rollercoaster of emotions my guys. I’m sorry I had to do it to you, but I did. Honestly, I’m overly proud of this one, like, it may be my favorite. It is my favorite. Hope you guys enjoy a little cry fest over Tae, I know I did. Also, a birthday shout out to @arxsu, I hope you like it! Our little Kookie gets Halloween, so get excited. Stay Spooky!💜

-Moonie🌙

[slamsams-blog]

Spectre - #24WeeksofBond

This week’s film in our 24 weeks of Bond marathon is the latest film in the franchise, 2015′s Spectre.  This would be, (or so he thought at the time), Craig’s final Bond outing...hence why it’s been SO INCREDIBLY LONG for a new Bond movie to come out.  Craig had other things he wanted to do before he could be convinced to suit up as Bond one more time.  But man oh man, am I over these 3, 4, or 5 year gaps in between Bond films.  Daniel Craig has held the role of Bond longer than any other actor - even longer than Roger Moore!  That’s is pretty crazy to think about.  Hopefully the next actor to play Bond isn’t so wishy-washy and we get regular installments at a better pace.  Here’s hoping...ANYWAYS

Spectre is a beautifully cinematic, high speed, throwback to the classics that all too often gets the “Tomorrow Never Dies” treatment.  This film was Sam Mendes’ second Bond film in a row, the first one being “Skyfall” which has been regarded as one of the best Bond films not just of the modern era, but of all time.  So when Spectre came out with the same director at the helm, everyone was expecting it to be the greatest film in all of cinema history.  Unfortunately, it just didn’t quite live up to the hype and therefor this movie gets unfairly ragged on.

Not just ragged on...but absolutely SHIT ON.  I’m not kidding.  I’ve seen a lot of “Bond ranking” posts and YouTube videos where this film is in the bottom 5, and one time I even saw it at the bottom.  THE BOTTOM.  Like, worse than “Die Another Day”.  If you actually think that Spectre is a worse movie than Die Another Day, then you either have no clue what you are talking about, have poor taste in action movies, or are just trying to be controversial to be controversial.  Spectre is by no means the best Bond movie ever, it has its plot holes for sure...but it is CERTAINLY not the worst, and y’all need to start showing this film some damn respect.  Pardon my “R” rated language, YouTubers got me hot!

All that being said, I REALLY enjoy this film.  Right from the beginning we have an incredibly visually stunning pre-title sequence at a Day of the Dead parade in Mexico where we see Bond mysteriously tracking a stooge.  With heart pounding music, incredible costumes, and a beautifully shot scene of Craig tight-roping the roofs of the buildings that causes my anxiety to explode...this is such a stimulating experience.  We later find out that Bond was going rogue and M is pissed and suspends him indefinitely.  But Bond is just following a trail that Judi Dench left for him in a video she recorded before she died.  Why didn’t she tell Bond about this before she died? Whatever...it’s just a movie. 

This leads Bond to uncovering an organization called “Spectre”. You can find the acronym for it in my “From Russia With Love” post!  Bond infiltrates a secret meeting to where he finds out the man at the head table is someone from his past.  The man, who eventually turns out to be Franz Oberhauser (Christoph Waltz) was once a boy who’s father had taken Bond in when his parents died, making ole Franz jealous, and eventually kills his father and fakes his own death...after he was declared dead he adopted a new name - Ernst Stavro Blofeld.  Odd choice, but here we are.  We have a Blofeld again!

Waltz was an exciting pick for the part, but he doesn’t blow me away in the role.  There is always a subtle creepiness to him, but I think he could’ve done more with it.  There was talk of him being replaced as Blofeld in the next Bond movie, but there was enough fan outrage where they squashed that...so I guess he’s doing something right.

One fun aspect of this film is that there is a Bond villain, that Bond never deals with.  Max Denbigh (Andrew Scott) or “C” as Bond dubs him, not really sure why, is a surveillance officer working for MI6, but secretly for Spectre.  Not so secret though, if anyone has seen “Sherlock”, the mere sight of Andrew Scott makes you think he has to be a villain.  He strolls in and politics his way into dumping the double 0 program in favor of ultra cyber security and drones.  If successful, Spectre would have full control over everything.  This guy is all M’s problem, and he deals with him from concept to completion.  Atta boy M! I just always liked how M was on his own with this storyline. 

Another aspect about this film is Bond is falling in love with Madeline Swann (Lea Seydoux), the daughter of Mr. White who has been a thorn in Bond’s side working for Spectre.  Mr. White has seen the light and now Spectre has poisoned him, giving Mr. White reason to give Bond all the info he needs and to protect his daughter.  To me this relationship is a bit rushed and forced.  Bond and Vesper in Casino Royale was done properly, but here, Swann seems to fall in love rather out of the blue. And we’re supposed to believe he is leaving MI6 for her.

We’re also treated to a badass train car fight!  I love me a good train car fight...sadly I don’t think there are any more in the series.  Bond comes face to face with the silent, giant, dagger thumbnail mammoth of a man named Mr.Hinx (Batista).  I’m a little biased here because I’ve been a lifelong Pro-Wrestling fan.  But I gotta say, Batista has acting chops.  This train car fight scene is BRUTAL, and is the scene I think about when I think about this movie.

In conclusion, Spectre is a beautifully shot film with an extra dash of humor, and an excessive amount of call backs to past Bond films.  The voodoo-esque nature in the opening (Live and Let Die), the clinic where Bond finds Madeline Swann (On Her Majesties Secret Service), the crator where Blofeld resides (You Only Live Twice), the ejector seat! (Goldfinger).  While it’s fun to see Spectre tip it’s hat to the past, as a die hard Bond fan, you kind of go “ok, I get it”.  And of course, they kept dropping hints in the movie that Craig was leaving the franchise which stressed me out - especially at the end.  I LOVE Daniel Craig as Bond and I, for one, was not ready to let him go just yet. Also, because of the number.  What I mean by that is the number of films each actor has done has been different.  After “No Time To Die” this will be the movie tally:

Lazenby: 1

Dalton: 2

Brosnan: 4

Craig: 5

Connery: 6

Moore: 7

The next actor to play Bond, can ONLY do 3 movies.  If he doesn’t, it just might bother me for the rest of my life.  Unless he goes for 8?  Well, my obsessive compulsive disorder aside, Spectre is not the perfect Bond film...but it deserves respect for the cinematography, characters, and action scenes.  We should all be thankful Sam Mendes came into the world of Bond, and threw a splash of paint on the franchise.

That’s it for this week!  Hope you enjoyed it!

Reviews from Friends:

My Mom:

I was mesmerized by this film. I think the theme song and opening artwork were stunning. Daniel craig was an older, darker version of Bond. I was pretty thrilled to see him with a mature love interest for once. Someone near his own age. I was hoping she would go on through the story but it was not to be. I thought it was very well done. Anxious to see more of this mysterious dark Bond.

Jake Benrud

Until reading your blog, I didn’t realize this wasn’t a well received Bond! I actually really enjoyed this movie. I think this is the third time watching it for me, and I really appreciate the portrayal of Bond by Craig. I thought Waltz did a great job with Blofeld. The drilling scene is always a bit unnerving, but I’d expect nothing less from a sadistic Bond villain. I did think that for all the intelligence that Blofeld and the SPECTRE organization should have that it was pretty poor planning to be able to destroy their entire facility with one shot to the propane regulator. I mean if you can arrange for an elaborate Bond haunted house at MI6 ending with Blofeld hiding behind bullet proof glass, maybe take the time to protect the propane tank at your facility. Chances are if you’re an evil genius looking for world domination, you’re probably going to have Bond at your door step shooting up the place. I digress. Despite this, I thought the story moved along well and it’s a solid installment of the series.

24 Weeks of Bond will return next Monday with -

Thunderball  

[chicagospryde-a]

continued from ( x )  ----- ( @jeanelcinegrey​​​​ ) 

Thinking about the X-Men in the White Hot Room was so easy, especially with the running tally of alternate universes the Phoenix presented to her. Jean could see how their lives would’ve changed if Ororo appeared later, if Kitty wasn’t brought into the fold so young, if Jean was the one Charles chose as leader instead of the obvious choice, Scott. So many universes had them even worse off than this one, but that didn’t make Jean any more equipped to deal with Kitty standing in front of her now. “All the time,” Jean repeated. She would’ve said every day, but time was something of a strange concept in the Room. She’d been there for years according to Scott, but when she looked back, it felt like days. Hours. Minutes, sometimes.

Kitty laughed, even if it was more of a choked sob, and Jean managed a small smile in her direction. “I especially missed banana pancakes,” she said, deciding to double down on something so small, something that shouldn’t mean a thing at all in the grand scheme, but was so important. “You can’t really eat when you’re— you know.”

Gone. Jean remembered standing in front of Rogue, explaining that the Phoenix wasn’t just her codename, that it wasn’t even her. It was a force, a cosmic entity that Jean had no hope of controlling no matter how much it professed to love her. The rest of the X-Men seemed to be aware of that fact now. She supposed that was down to the fireworks show down on the lawn. Anyone who knew Jean – or at least, she hoped it was as easy as that – had to know that the last thing she would willingly do was put her family in danger. “It used to be … everywhere. I felt warm, all the time.” Jean swallowed thickly, crossing her arms against her chest, almost hugging herself, bracing against the new cold. “It’s gone. I don’t feel it anymore.”

For a beat, Jean flashed back to herself, the way she had justified the Phoenix’s actions so long ago. “Life comes from rebirth,” Jean said lowly. “I can … I could help you, when winter’s over. Or we could move them into a greenhouse.” Planning for the future was always the way Jean dealt with the aftermath of a fight, pretending that there was a level of stability that X-Men could never guarantee. But Kitty wasn’t a child. Not anymore, not since the day Charles brought her into the fold, really. This time, Jean really did laugh, even if it came out rough from disuse. “I’m sure Charles would have something to say about emblazoning our asses with a sparkled Gucci,” Jean joked – but the atmosphere swiftly changed, and Jean didn’t know what to do with that, even if she’d been the one to cause it.

She caught a glimpse, just a reflection, of tears in the darkness of the hallway, and her anger seeped out of her as quickly as the Phoenix’s power had when Jean got so damn tired of fighting, like a dam finally released into the lake. “Endings aren’t–” Jean took a sharp breath, trying to dispel some of the guilt that settled on her chest heavy, like a stone weighing down on her ribcage. “Endings shouldn’t be what you want. Endings are the worst part.”

They were never going to have that final fight that ended things. They were never going to be able to rest. The only peace Jean ever got was in snatches of moments. Pancakes with Kitty. Watching TV with Bobby, laughing as he imitated the accents on the screen. Looking out over the lawn to see Scott training the new students. But was Kitty wrong for not seeing the world as Jean did?

Never.

“You’re not wrong,” Jean said, lowly. So far as her sense of reality, the bleakness of it … maybe she was cynical now. Maybe she was jaded. But that’s what three attempts at death would do to you, and it’s what being dragged into something you didn’t expect would do to you, and it’s what fighting a war since you were a teenager would do to you.

Kitty knew that more than most.

Jean looked up from her feet at Kitty’s next words, and she didn’t hesitate before crossing the distance between them, wrapping her arms tightly around the younger girl. “I thought about this all the time too,” she whispered. “I missed you a whole lot, Kit Kat.”

All the time. The admittance had soothed an invisible ache; selfish comfort, to know Jean had thought of her just as much as Kitty had. She couldn’t say what the afterlife must have been like, knowing Jean could even think was a shock enough, but the after life of living without Jean was its own thing. Some times the shadows made by the plants looked a little like Jean, which was ridiculous, because Jean looked nothing like a fern. But her mind saw what it wanted to see, and all it wanted to see was Jean. “All the time,” she repeated back. Now Jean was here and her mind wouldn’t have to pretend the pointy ends of their Chinese Evergreen looked anything like the older mutant’s hair. “I did too.” 

Kitty’s heart skipped a beat; surprise, laughter and amusement all choking their way up her ragged body. “Banana pancak---” she stopped herself to laugh, this time without the undercut of a sob. “You would miss the type of pancake with the lamest fruit on it.” Not chocolate chip, caramel, cherry or blueberry---but banana. Though with some fresh maple syrup from up north, Kitty could see the appeal. She’d have to ask Logan to bring them some, if he ever found himself across the border sometime soon. “I never asked what the afterlife was like...I guess there’s no buffet, is there?” She paused, “there’s bananas and flour in the kitchen.” It was also three in the morning and hardly the time to imply they might enjoy some pancakes, but it was less about trying to fill a hunger she didn’t feel and more about trying to give Jean back all she had given. “We could...” she trailed off, “there’s bananas in the kitchen.” And repeated herself like a parrot that couldn’t figure out how to communicate right with the humans. 

“So do you feel cold now?” Kitty did the math in her head, it must have been something like thirteen years since Jean first bonded with the phoenix. Did Jean remember at all what the days felt like before the fire? Was she cold then too? Or did things with the Phoenix color everything else; did that kind of power make you forget? Kitty swallowed back the questions, fear bubbled up at the idea of being answered. If she knew just how much hurt sat behind Jean’s chest, then Kitty in turn would ache knowing just how little she could do to ease any of it. She didn’t think the coldness Jean might be feeling would be solved by warm blankets and woolly socks. In the end, what can she do but stand there, praying by a god she did not believe in that Jean would know happiness like she deserved. ( Could she wrench her own heart from her chest and offer it out, she might have. Some days she felt strong enough to do so, most days she was too afraid to reach inside and lose the thing she took for granted ) “I’m sorry,” she blurted suddenly, gripping on to unspoken words. ( It should have been convenient with a telepath, if only Jean would intrude just a little so Kitty wouldn’t have to explain herself. )  

“Life comes from a lot of things,” Kitty answered a comment she knew wasn’t for her, “it doesn’t need to be death or fire.” The young mutant shook her head, then paused, and nodded. Her instinct was to refuse, she couldn’t remember the last time she let someone help her with anything. But building a garden with Jean sounded nice; sounded like something she’d like help with. “Mhm, no not the greenhouse.” She liked the idea of holding Jean to some sort of detached promise. Perhaps she wouldn’t get no more dying but she’d get the promise of an after winter and it would have to do. When their garden was done, and spring brought them blooms, Kitty would push and ask for apple trees to be planted---and she’d wait on the promise that they’d pluck the first apples, bitter and small as they probably would be, and bake them into an inevitably terrible pie. That would be the promise of another winter, and then another year, and another two after that. And if their tree didn’t work they’d have to plant more, one after the other, year after year. Like that, life would be trees: taking root, growing tall and strong and impossibly old. Kitty would ask for a million years with Jean if she could, a million years with all of them.  

But a million years was childish plea, and so Kitty only asked for an after winter and a garden. “A nicer garden outside seems better. Better than the hedges we’ve got, anyway.” She smiled, “Charles doesn’t know fashion. We should get him a bedazzled shirt, then he’d know what fashion is.” Not that Kitty had much of a clue what fashion was anymore, the part of her that’d been passionate about that died when...well, when Jean did, the second time, and she’d learned being a kid wasn’t something the world was going to let her do. Be an adult; dress boring; wear a uniform, not a costume. “Come to think of it, none of our outfits look good. Why do the Avengers get to look hot while we look like off-brand safety-vest models? This is why people hate mutants, we lack sex appeal.”

Her humor layered with the goal of distraction withered away moments later; she’d been the one who started yelling at Jean, she should have expected that no amount of joke would cover it up. But she didn’t want to be mad anymore, even if she still was impossibly so. She could scream and kick all she wanted, she knew Jean would still sacrifice herself the next moment she had to. There would always be things Kitty couldn’t change, no matter how much she wanted. “I wanna be able to go to your wedding, Jean. Or your fiftieth birthday party. I wanna be there when you win a noble peace prize, and I want you to be there. You’d think a doctor would have a little more hope, wouldn’t you?”

Self-sacrifice was a funny thing---and yet, the very thing that kept tearing Kitty from her friends. She wished with all her heart, with all the force her body could manage in Jean’s arms, that she would stay. That the next time the world needed to be saved, she would turn away and it would be okay. In her tears she prayed, in the ragged exhales she used to steady her thumping breath she begged, all she’d wanted in that moment was for Jean to live; to stay warm and happy and free. “C-careful, Scott’ll get jealous if you say stuff like that,” she murmured against the fabric of Jean’s shirt, bubbly laughter caught between swallowed sobs. “I missed you so much, Earl.” She pulled back before she was sure she’d end up soaking Jean with the strange waterfall that manifested in her eyes at some point between trying to be mad and then failing miserably at it. “Like the tea? Earl Grey?” she sniffled, “I had all this time to think of a funny name for you and that’s all I got.” One day, she’d think of one. Jean might not have been able to promise anything, but Kitty did it anyway---Jean would stay. Next time the world demanded sacrifice, it wouldn’t be Jean, Kitty wouldn’t let her. Not this time. Not ever again. “Jean-a colada...no that’s dumb.”

If she had to bury Jean again, she’d personally come into whatever the heck the afterlife was and slap her.

[my-52-weeks-with-christie]

My 52 Weeks With Christie:

Hallowe’en Party

Random (And Almost Relevant) Facts: 

Anyone out there ever heard of Snapdragon before? Yes? No? Well, prior to reading Hallowe’en Party I never had. The only reference point I had was the British tradition of dousing a Christmas Pudding with brandy and setting it alight at the end of Christmas dinner. But Snapdragon, from Christie’s description, sounded far more boisterous, chaotic and merry compared to my single point of reference.

Fun Fact: Apparently Christmas/Plum Puddings never caught on on this side of the pond due in large part to the U.S.’s Puritan & Quaker roots, as they considered it, “the invention of the scarlet whore of Babylon”. Which seems a rather harsh view of a pudding.

Anyways...

Since Snapdragon played such a crucial role in Hallowe’en Party, by giving the murderer the perfect distraction/opportunity to commit their dastardly deed, I decided to investigate.

And much to my surprise I discovered this description in an 1855 party guide called:

Home Games For The People: A Collection of Family Amusements For The Fire-Side, Parlour, or Pic-Nic Parties; Consisting of Games of Action; Games simply taxing the Attention; Catch Games, depending on the assistance of an Accomplice; Games requiring the Exercise of Fancy, Memory, Intelligence and Imagination. For The Use of the Old and Young.

(Yes, that’s the title.)

This guide’s instructions (along with several others I discovered) tallies with Christie’s description of events at that fateful Halloween Party attended Ariadne Oliver - pretty blue flames which posed a slight risk of injury, alcohol saturated raisins which cause a mess when plucked from the bowl and participants who enjoyed the diversion immensely.

However, what I found most surprising, after reading the lengthy title page, was the fact the publisher was located in New York! So with a bit more perusing, I discovered Snapdragon was played from about the 16th to 19th centuries in England, Canada, and the United States. (Apparently, the Puritans and Quakers found fault with a pudding but filling a bowl full of spirits, raisins and fire then sending their children to play in it was fine.)

Raisins were the preferred treat. However, currents, figs, grapes, plums or almonds could be substituted if needed or suited the audience better. Originally a Christmas Eve activity it eventually evolved into a Twelfth Night and Halloween diversion as well - which Christie’s mystery illustrates.

Fun Fact: Our esteemed authoress keeps great literary company, both Charles Dickens and Lewis Carroll mention Snapdragon in their works as well.

Three guesses why this tradition died out...and the first two don’t count.

While the liquor, flames, and fruit delighted the younger set and made holiday parties a smashing success, these very same elements often made the day after a bit of a misery for the unlucky. Who wants to spend Christmas Day nursing singed fingers and blistered mouth? (And depending on how quick you snatched the raisins out, the younger participates might get a slight hangover - the spirits don't burn off as quick as you'd think.) So around the beginning of the twentieth century the observance of this custom begun dying out.

Interestingly, its decline in popularity coincides when Christie was growing up - so perhaps she played Snapdragon as a child? No clue. But due to its waning popularity, it explains why the none of the Halloween party-goers notice the killer leading their victim from the room - because Snapdragon could indeed have been a rare treat by 1969!

Fun Fact: According to Atlas Obscura, Snapdragon had an adult variant called Flapdragon. In Flapdragon a lit candle was dropped into a mug of ale, then the individual attempted to down the contents without setting their mustaches, beard or hair on fire.

Now to give you guys a complete picture of this Victorian holiday tradition, I took it upon myself to play a game of Snapdragon.

Purely for due diligence purposes, you understand.

I did, however, decide against playing Flapdragon. Which either proves I am now an adult with an iota of common sense or am merely reluctant to explain to every ER doctor/nurse/lab assistant on duty that I sustained my burns by willingly drinking a beer with a lit candle in it - could go either way.

Plus I already have enough outrageous emergency room anecdotes, thank you.

When I proposed my thrilling new Wednesday night adventure, my husband regretfully declined my invitation. Stating that watching me dip my fingers into fire, popping something on fire into my mouth, while undoubtedly standing to close to the fire was incompatible with one of his primary drives - my safety.

BTW - he did not find Snapdragon a safer alternative to Flapdragon.

So while he sat in the other room playing video games, and definitely not making sure the fire extinguisher and car keys were handy - I played Snapdragon on our balcony!

The flames were lovely. And even better? No burns or blisters to report! Though I am glad, I decided to light the bourbon (we didn't have any brandy) outside, because a little bit goes a long way, and I used a bit too much! The flames got a bit higher than anticipated but other than that it went great!

I can definitely see why both the children & adult's full attention was on the Snapdragon in Hallowe'en Party! It's entertaining and scary all at the same time!

*BTW - Don't try this without a Responsible adult present! Fire is still dangerous, the Victorians were just plain crazy or bored, either way, while this post (is hopefully) funny - this activity is not to be taken lightly. Burns and/or real fires can result. So be it on your head if you try it.

[butwhyduh]

The inheritance pt 2

Avenger cast au

Warning: cursing, hint of smut, death.

Word count: 1886

Summary: Tom Holland is informed he's inherited a fortune from his grandfather he never met. He and many members of his family go to the family estate and learn that they will compete to win the estate. For @uglypastels movie challange. The quote will be in the next chapter. Sorry.

"So we call the cops, right?" Elizabeth said pacing.

"Good luck. The signal is always terrible and the storm has made it impossible," Zoe told them crossing her arms.

"We drive into town and tell them," Chris suggested.

"The bridge was about to overflow on the way over," Benedict said. "Didn't you notice? Its probably flooded by now."

Tom hadn't noticed. The thought that he might have to spend all weekend with a dead body never once crossed his mind. For a second he thought about Jacob actually being right about his family. Who would have guessed?

"So we are stuck? What are we going to do with him?" Anthony asked.

"I'll wake up my father," Laura said leaving the room. Tom hadn't moved from his spot and realized he still held his glass and sat it down. He looked around the room in shock.

Everyone began pulling out various devices and indeed there was no signal. The storm raged outside. Christopher and Sebastian carried the body into the dinning room and closed the door.

The body was cold to the touch and pale but appeared to be unmarked. No one said anything. The room was thick with apprehension.

"Did he have a heart attack?" Jacob asked almost hopefully.

Bendict removed Jeremy's hat and his head tilted to the side where a dark blue strip shone around his throat. A gasp filled the room.

"He was- He was killed!" Anthony said. He stood from his chair and began pacing. "We are trapped with a fucking corpse."

"Probably all weekend, unfortunately," Don interrupted Anthony's pacing. The group stared at him.

"What the hell do you mean?" Chris asked sharply. Christopher put a hand on his shoulder.

"I would like to know as well," Mark said.

"The road floods in a spot in high rain. If it stops now the road might be open tomorrow. If it keeps raining, who knows? You can stay in a guest room. There are plenty" Robert said shrugging.

"What are we going to do with him?" Chris H said. He peered at the body. "He can't stay there all weekend."

"I would advice against moving him," Don said. The group looked at him. "Messing with a crime scene and all."

"Well we can't leave him there. In the fucking floor of the dining room," Christopher said loudly. "Take pictures or whatever. But I'm moving him to the cellar. It'll probably freeze tonight or get close so he won't... you know."

Don shakingly grabbed his phone and snapped a few pictures before Christopher and Sebastian carried him out of the room and down to the cellar in the kitchen. Laura looked away when they walked by. Elizabeth stared at the body. When the two men returned to the room, Sebastian noticeably paler, Don began talking again.

"I hate to bring this up now, but the will must be delivered this weekend. The reason being, is that it is on an automated system that will automatically close for 10 years if not found this weekend. So as a group, you must decide to either wait 10 years, or go forth with it tonight," Don said to the astounded group.

"Who's going to say yes?" Robert said bitterly.

"Who's going to say no?" Benedict responded.

"We'll write it down, anonymously. And I'll tally it up and we'll decide," Don said. He pulled out a piece of paper and ripped it up for all of the people who might receive the inheritance. They each were handed a paper and Tom stared at his.

Did he want to go ahead with this 'game' after someone died? Could he really pass up an inheritance? Jacob sat near him warily. He certainly wasn't going to decide. Finally Tom wrote his answer down and gave it to Zoe who was counting them silently.

"I need a drink," Robert said as he turned in his paper. He poured himself a scotch.

"Of course you need a drink. You always need a drink," Benedict muttered.

"Strong words coming from a man who drank at least of bottle of Bordeaux," Robert quipped. "You always did take after mother."

"And how is that? Let's talk about mother. She's only been dead for 15 years. Not that you stuck around after you got out of school in the first place," Benedict said slamming his wine glass down. The room watched the 2 quietly.

"I'm sorry but we all didn't get shipped off to a fancy English boarding school for gifted kids. I was here when not in military school. I needed to leave for my health. Something no one else cared about," Robert said taking a drink.

"You could have come back when she got sick. When mother was dying. Take care of your mother," Benedict retorted.

"I wouldn't talk to highly of taking care of your parents. Neither of you were there for your father. You know, the man who died to bring us all here tonight," Sebastian interjected.

"Okay, guys let's get along," Zoe said. "I've tallied up the numbers and the majority have voted to continue with the hunt. So I guess that's what we'll do..."

"God help us all," Elizabeth said taking a drink.

"So the paperwork is very clear that the first clue will be given at 8 am tomorrow. So enjoy your evening and I will meet you in the morning. This evening has been... difficult to say the least. I will try to call out early in the morning. We can't do anything now," Don said before leaving the room.

Tom looked around, unsure of his next move. Jacob looked at him. His eyes showed deep confusion. Tom pinched his eyebrow and breathed deeply. His throat felt tight from the stress of it all.

"Let's get some sleep, man," Tom told Jacob. The pair left for their room.

"What. The. Fuck?" Jacob asked Tom as he shut the door. "There was a dead body. A literal dead human in the fucking vegetable bin now."

"I don't know. I have no fucking clue. I've literally never seen Dad like this. I thought he was going to fight Benedict. So do you have any signal?" Tom asked laying on his bed.

For the next 30 minutes they tried to get some form of communication but found nothing. Finally Tom laid face down on the bed. It was getting late. And the stress of seeing a dead relative he never knew was... a lot to say the least.

The room to the right, and next to Jacob's bed, began to make noise. A rhythmic noise. Jacob scrunched his nose up at the thought.

"Who is fucking right now?" Tom asked covering his head with a pillow.

A feminine moan filled the air. The two men looked at each other. They knew who it was. The moans turned to gasps and yells of "oh god" with the distinct sound of a headboard slapping the wall. The sound of a male grunting was added to the noise.

"Jesus, how can someone be having sex after seeing a dead body," Tom groaned. "Who does that?"

"Murderers," Jacob said wiggling his eyebrows. "Sex maniacs? Horny ghosts? Your cousin Sebastian and his wife?"

"Please shoot me."

"I wouldn't say that too loud around here. Plus, they aren't banging against your wall anyways," Jacob reminded Tom.

The sounds hit a crescendo and then died away. Jacob lightly clapped as Tom rolled his eyes. With the noise stopped they laid down and tried to sleep.

Tom drifted off fitfully. His hands were clenched around the blanket and he slept in his shoes. Jacob snored softly.

Tom opened his eyes to find himself back in the dinning room. "What the hell," he gasped. He was alone. The electrical lights were replaced with actual candles on every surface. Tom heard the ticking of a clock in the corner. The red walls garish in the flickering light.

He walked out to the hallway and down a set of stairs into music room. A soft piano played in the corner. Tom felt himself freeze as it played by itself. He rationalized it by thinking it was an electronic one like they have at hotels.

A soft voice sang a song he didn't recognize through an arched doorway. "Hello? Is there anyone there?" Tom followed the voice. As he got closer he realized it was nursery rhymes being sung.

The archway led to a tightly spiralled staircase down surrounded by plants. Tom must have walked into a greenhouse. He looked around the lush greenhouse lit by streaming moonlight before looking down the stairs. He knew the voice was down there but he was nervous to follow.

Steeling his courage, Tom followed the woman's voice down the dark staircase. The tight iron stairs wound down into a rather plain hallway made of stucco or cement. More candles poorly lit the hall. It was a stark contrast to the ornate upstairs that had beautifully painted, wallpapered, and embossed walls. The air felt humid and cool down there.

The hallway was narrow and it reminded him of world war 2 bunkers he had seen. The woman's voice sounded close as she sang about little ducks. The path sharply turned to the left and it opened into a wine cellar with rows of bottles stacked tall. There were multiple rooms attached with more wine and spirits. His father and Benedict couldn't hurt this stock no matter how hard they tried.

"Hello? Where are you?" Tom asked certain he heard her voice now. Bottles at the far end of the room fell to the floor. "Are you okay?" Tom asked walking towards it.

Bottles in the far back began crashing to the floor. Tom could see there was no one with him. The bottles slowly started crashing in line towards Tom. Tom gasped and ran to the stairs as his heart beat out if his chest. He leaped up multiple stairs at a time as the thunderous sound of the bottles followed him.

When suddenly he was awakened by the sounds of screaming. Tom sat up in bed. He held his racing chest. It was a nightmare. That's all it was. He was laying in a bed in his grandfather's estate. He relaxed visibly.

Another scream pierced the air and Tom jumped to his feet. Jacob sat up suddenly. They looked at one another as a third scream, this time more of a mangled cry came.

"What was that," Jacob asked.

"I haven't a clue," Tom said searching for a weapon. He found an old umbrella in the closet and he opened the bedroom door to the hallway. Jacob scrambled to his feet to follow.

An attractive blonde woman pressed her face against a tall thin man man with curly hair and glasses. On the ground lay the woman Tom's grandfather had labeled the one who got away. Tom froze in fear. His arm still raised with the umbrella.

"Woah," Jacob said.

"Is- is she dead?" Tom asked tensely. He finally lowered the umbrella.

"I'll check," the unknown man said. The woman moved off of him and wrapped her arms tightly around her chest with wide eyes. He bent down and touched The woman's neck.

"What is going on?" A groggy Sebastian asked opening their room door. The man on the ground almost jumped from his skin.

"Good Lord," the man exclaimed. "She...err. . She's dead."

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[theepitomeofamess]

It Takes Two pt 6

sorry y’all, had some severe writer’s block since I got home and my parents put me to work around the house. So anyway this is kinda a bs scene, but y’know what, it’s something.

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

high school au, theater au, Logince, 2264

An orange glow set into the atmosphere over the Target parking lot. Cars came and went with honking horns, screeching tires, and rage-fueled middle fingers. Children screamed and giggled at their parents, people almost got run over because they were distracted by their phones, dogs barked across the lot where the Pet Smart sat.

“Blue one,” Logan gestured to the blue mustang revving across the lot with the Blue Moon in his hand. Roman added another tally mark under Logan’s name on the pizza box lid, refusing to take his eyes off the lot. It had been Roman’s idea to play the game Russell and Carl played at the end of Up, and he couldn't stop smiling.

When the two of them had left rehearsal that night, Logan stopped at the exit. Roman asked if he wanted to go with Virgil, Patton, and the others to Cookout, then go home with Virgil after. For a minute, Logan had just stood there, and Roman wondered what was going through his head. When he finally spoke up, his voice was soft, to the point of sounding plush.

“Let’s go to Target.” Roman hadn’t spent a lot of time with Logan, but he remembered what “going to Target” meant between him and Virgil, and that muted smile and matte fog in Logan’s eyes screamed of the subtext.

“Let’s not go home. Let's not go to my house or your house or Virgil’s house, let’s go out and pretend that we don't have anywhere else that we have to be except with each other. Let’s wander around a store that has a little bit of everything and pretend we have money to buy the things we like and just wander and look and laugh and pretend reality doesn't exist because it really doesn't in Target.”

And that's what they'd been doing for the past few hours. They'd circled around the store around three times, stopping at different things each time, talking to each other and laughing and letting time slip away into the odd obscurity that comes with places like Target. After a while, they bought a six pack of Blue Moons from an older woman who trusted Roman and never asked for IDs, and a pizza from the Pizza Hut inside the store, and gone out to the curb to watch for blue and red cars.

“Red one,” Roman pointed with his pinkie, the rest of his hand still wielding a pizza crust.

“Roman,” Logan deadpanned, “that’s a decoration.” Roman looked from the red ball cemented in front of the entrance to an unamused Logan.

“Yeah, but it’s red, isn’t it?” Logan scoffed at the rebuttal, rolling his eyes in an attempt to hide his smirk.

“Fine. In that case,” Logan pointed to the label on his beer, “blue one.” Roman laughed at the gesture, throwing his head back and using his entire body to laugh. Logan smiled, chuckling at the ground while Roman smacked his knee with his free hand. Roman’s laughter rang in Logan’s ears and warmed him to his core, filling him with more warm and fuzzy feelings than beer ever could.

“You’re fantastic.” The comment was off-hand, spilled without meaning to be spoken. Logan smiled, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat at the comment. Swirling the beer in his hand, Logan watched the sky, orange glowing on the horizon and pink cotton candy clouds blushing against the darkening blue sky, his gaze too intense to be apathetic and too careless to be intent. He seemed to be watching something far beyond the colors of the sky, beyond the parking lot, like he was looking through the particles of reality to watch something happening in the next dimension.

Roman swallowed hard as he forced on himself the truth that he had no clue what was happening in Logan’s head.

“You okay,” he finally asked, trying to snap Logan from his trance-like state. Logan hummed before answering.

“Thinking.”

“What about?” For a long moment, Logan didn’t answer. Roman almost thought that Logan hadn’t heard him.

“What’s your favorite flower?” The question caught Roman off guard. He couldn’t quite tell what Logan meant to convey with the question. Was that what he’d been thinking about? Was he just asking to change the subject? Was he actually interested, or was it a new game?

“Roses.” Logan snickered at the answer. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just,” he sighed, “I should have seen that coming. A classic symbol for passion and romance, I don’t know how I didn’t expect it.”

“That’s the beauty of it, though,” Roman defended calmly. “You’re only thinking of the red rose, which symbolizes courage in addition to passion. I love roses in all colors and meanings. Yellow ones symbolize friendship, pale peach is modesty, yellow with red tips is falling in love, orange is desire and fascination and creativity and enthusiasm, burgandy is unconscious beauty, blue is,” Roman’s voice caught when he noticed how Logan was looking at him as he rambled, a ghost of a smile on his lips and the fog almost cleared from his exhausted eyes. “Blue is the unattainable, the impossible. Roses of all colors are beautiful and have their own unique and beautiful meanings, and they’re just in general lovely flowers. Anyway, what’s yours?”

“Mine?” Logan asked, turning his gaze to the ground as he thought. “Dandelions.”

“Really,” Roman smiled. “I had you pegged for more of a lily or lilac kind of guy. Why dandelions?” Logan shook his head, smiling to himself.

“They symbolize a lot of things, from intelligence to healing to survival. The message being conveyed when they’re given is to not give up, even when those around you keep trying to get rid of you. That’s what I really like about them, I think. They’re resilient. Most people call them stubborn, but that’s just annoyance at their resilience. People only call it a weed because somebody decided it was growing in the wrong place. They’re jealous of its resilience, its ability to thrive whether it’s growing in rich soil or breaking through concrete to reach for the sun. Once its life cycle is up, it becomes this beautiful little dainty thing, and allows itself to be carried into a hundred next lives by either the wind or someone who believes in wishes. Most flowers need exactly the right conditions so they can grow for a few weeks and be at their peak for maybe two days before they start wilting. Dandelions can grow anywhere, and for half their life they look like the sun and the other half they’re a beautiful puffball that rides on wishes.”

Roman watched and listened to Logan in awe. He remembered Logan mentioning having an appreciation for poetry, but at the time he’d thought that that was all it was - an appreciation. The way Logan spoke, though, the way the words spilled from his lips so eloquently and effortlessly, Roman felt a smile quirk his lips at the realization that the connection was so much more than just academic fascination. Glancing at the bottle in Logan’s hand, Roman told himself that Logan had to be at least a little tipsy to talk so freely about this kind of thing. He usually rambled on forever about facts and science and analysis, not the symbolism and sentiment of flowers.

“Sorry,” Logan’s smile faded as he bowed his head. “I’m rambling, I know it’s annoying. Next time, just tell me to stop, okay? I don’t want to-”

“You’re not being annoying.” Roman’s words were much harsher than he’d intended, as though he were offended at the notion. He was, but Logan didn’t need to know that. “I will personally fight anyone who told you that you’re annoying when you’re talking about something that you are clearly passionate about. I love listening to you talk, and if you ever think otherwise, you just point out the one who planted that thought in your head.” Logan huffed a laugh through his nose, sending a half smile up at Roman.

“My knight in shining armor, you are,” Logan mumbled into the bottle as he took another swig.

“I should hope not,” Roman replied. “A knight in shining armor hasn’t done anything, hasn’t been anywhere. If anything, I’d be your knight in dented, rusted, dirt- and blood-stained armor. That way people can know that I’d protect you from anything that tried to hurt you.” Logan kept his eyes trained on the ground in an attempt to hide the smile he couldn’t quite hold back.

“You’re too good.” Roman smiled at the comment. He couldn’t remember the last time someone called him good. Not fantastic, not spectacular, not anything on the other side of the spectrum, just good. That was probably the greatest compliment Roman could dream of receiving. Taking a swig of the beer sitting next to him, Roman’s mind raced, trying to come up with a way to continue the conversation.

“What’s your favorite Disney movie?”

“Big Hero Six. You?” Logan’s answer came too easily for Roman’s liking. Roman had a hard time choosing his favorite Disney movie, as all of them had worked together to form his childhood and him as a person.

“Currently, I’d have to say Hercules, but I can never choose an all-time favorite. I love them all equally for different reasons. I could never choose.”

“Well, I have to agree that Hercules is a good choice. The art and music style were daring, and Greek mythology is always a good choice. That’s probably my fourth favorite.” Roman hummed.

“What’re your other top four?” Logan continued to stare at the concrete as Roman watched him think on the question.

“Big Hero Six, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Lion King, and Hercules.” Roman hummed at the list.

“Why those?”

“Why are you asking me so many questions?” Logan looked back up to Roman, eyes squinted with suspicion.

“Just curious. Besides, you and I still don’t really know each other that well.” Logan watched Roman’s expression for any ulterior motive, only to find sincere curiosity.

“Big Hero Six, the protagonists use their brains instead of brawn to defeat the antagonist.” Logan turned to watch the concrete again, eyes following a lone ant looking for any speck of food. “Hunchback, firstly because I have a soft spot for Victor Hugo, and secondly because it has my favorite songs and some of the most relatable and interesting characters. Lion King, mainly because it has some of the greatest quotes, including my favorite. You know Mufasa’s speech to Simba?”

“The ‘everything the light touches is our kingdom,’ one,” Roman asked as Logan picked a crumb from the pizza box, setting it in the path of the ant. Both of them smiled as the ant picked up the crumb, happily starting back toward its colony.

“No, the one about the stars and the great kings of the past watching over us.” Logan’s head tilted up, the sky turning inky where it had been orange moments ago. The stars were invisible due to the street lamps everywhere, but Logan smiled nonetheless. He knew they were there. He was comforted by the knowledge that they were watching over him.

Roman smiled at the stars glittering in Logan’s eyes. He might not be able to see them in the sky, but he could always marvel at the galaxies in Logan’s onyx eyes, at his soft smile.

Logan just about jumped out of his skin when his phone started buzzing madly in his pocket. Taking it out, his eyes widened at the number. It didn’t have a contact name, but Logan clearly recognized the number. Thumb hovering over the green phone icon, Logan took in a deep breath.

“We disappoint, we disappear,” he mumbled, the words barely audible to Roman, “we die, but we don’t.” Swiping the red icon, Logan slipped the phone back into his pocket. Roman almost asked who that was, what was wrong, but something made him hold his tongue. Maybe it was the way the stars had faded from Logan’s eyes, maybe it was the way his shoulders were starting to collapse in on themselves, maybe it was the way his hand moved up to grip at his hair.

Roman wasn’t quite thinking when he laid a hand on Logan’s back. He felt Logan’s back tense under his palm, but he didn’t pull away, rubbing at the tension in his back and shoulders.

“So, you like Victor Hugo, huh?” Roman hoped to whatever God there is that his voice was level enough to seem nonchalant. “Is Les Miserables included in that?” Logan finally seemed to relax as he went on a tangent about Les Mis and Victor Hugo’s other novels and poetry and everything he could think of. He didn’t seem to feel himself leaning closer into Roman as he talked, relaxing into Roman’s side.  

They stayed there, talking until the sky was black and Target closed. By the time they were back in Roman’s car, Logan was half asleep and the clock read 11:08. When Roman asked where Logan wanted to go, Logan didn’t respond beyond a grunt when Roman suggested Virgil.

“11:11,” Roman announced softly when he checked the clock at a stoplight. “Make a wish.” Roman expected some kind of scoff or eye roll from Logan, but there was nothing. Silence filled the car, the red light turned to green and Roman started driving again. Something in the back of his mind wondered if Logan’s wish had been anything like his own.

I wish we could spend every night like this. 

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[themalhambird]

Richard woke with a pounding headache and every inch of his body feeling stiff and sore. His mouth was dry. He wasn't dressed. Last night was a blur, but he vaguely remembered a nightclub, and then-

Oh, fuck. 

He sat up, pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead. The movement made his head spin and he groaned, feeling nauseous. 

“Um- hey. I thought you might want coffee”

He twisted around to look at the door way, where some guy who’s name he couldn’t remember was hovering with a mug. He was cute. Blonde. Richard gave the best attempt at a friendly smile he could when hung over and regretting all his life decisions up to and including being born. “Um. Thanks...?”

“Bushy.”

“Bushy, right, thanks. Um...”

“I’ll- bring it over.”

“Right.” They avoided eye contact as Richard took the mug and wrapped his hands around it. 

“Weren’t there other people?” Richard blurted out. “I mean-,”

“Yeah, they uh. They left- went home. I, uh, I thought I’d stay. I hope that’s alright, I just wanted...I don’t know, I wasn’t sure that you’d be okay. If you woke up by yourself.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a while,” Richard said, raising the mug to his lips and downing the hot coffee in a series of large gulps. Bushy smiled sympathetically.

“Bad break up or something?”

“Can I get you breakfast?” Richard said, ignoring the question.

“No,uh, I raided your cupboards already. I should be off. I have to get home. I’ve got to get on with some work.”

Work. Richard frowned. “What time is it?”

“Uh...10.30.

“Oh, fuck.” Richard scrambled out of bed, lunging for his towel and wrapping it around himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“You okay?”

“I’m late for work by three and a half- my Uncle’s going to string me up from the-” 

“I’ll get out of your way. Um- would you mind, if I left my phone number on your kitchen table? In case you fancy coffee or something. Last night was fun, I’d  like to get to know you better. If you, know, you were interested in being friends.”

Richard hesitated. His instinct was to brush the man off- he was in the middle of wallowing in misery and self pity and getting drunk and getting fucked by strangers and then moving on- he wasn’t in the mood for making new friends and doing something positive with his time right now. On the other hand, Bushy had made him coffee. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, alright. That would be good, thanks.”

“Good luck with your uncle.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need it. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you.”

Richard flashed a brief smile and vanished in to his bathroom, switching on the shower. He’d intended to be quick, but the warm water hit his head and decided to hell with it. Uncle John was going to kill him anyway, he might as well have a nice shower. If he was going to die, he’d damn well do it with clean hair.

It was gone twelve by the time he made it in to the office; he had three missed calls from Uncle Edmund, ten from Henry, and forty seven from Uncle John, who followed him in to his office and slammed the door. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded. 

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Sorry doesn’t cut it, this time. You missed the meeting with Valois.”

Richard froze. “That was this morning?” 

His uncle shook his head in disgust “I don’t understand you,” John said. “You’re twenty one, and you have a position men twice your age would kill for. You are the C.E.O of one of wealthiest, most influential businesses in the country; all you have to do is show up and at least feign an interest, and you can’t even be bothered to do that! More than  a year of work to even get the French to talk to us and you forget the meeting- you’re a spoilt, selfish brat and I’m ashamed of you!” 

“Yeah well, maybe you and Uncle Thomas should start a club.” Richard muttered, wincing as he moved to sit down. “Give me the minuets of the thing with Valois and I’ll look over it. I assume you told them I was ill, I’ll call in a few days and give my apologies in person and-”

“What does Thomas have to do with anything?”

Richard looked up at him. “I’ll give you three guesses,” he said sardonically; John folded his arms. 

“You might give me a clue, first. If the two of you have quarrelled, this is the first I’m hearing about it, and if it’s bad enough to make you this crap at a job you were showing some not inconsiderable promise at up until a few weeks back then I want it sorted.”

“You don’t know.”

“Know what?” John took the seat opposite his nephew’s desk, honestly concerned now. His nephew was looking very young, suddenly, and staring at him with a faint look of guilt in his countenance. “Richard,” he said. “Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can fix it.”

“You don’t understand, you can’t fix it, it’s not something anyone can fix.”

John hesitated. “Richard, um. If this is about your, um, your- ah, your predilection for the, er- the company of other men so to speak- that is, I am aware that you’re-”

“An ‘unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort’?” 

“Gay,” John said firmly. “You don’t hide it nearly as well as you think you do, and while I will admit to not being the most liberal minded individual on the planet you are my nephew and I love you, and I promise that I will do my best to support you. You and your friend Robert are a couple, I think? He seems a nice young man, and if the time ever comes that you feel ready and able to make your relationship public-”

“It’s never going to happen.”

John frowned. “Why?”

“Why? Because Uncle Thomas offered him a quarter of a million to disappear and he took it. About a month ago. I haven’t seen him, or heard from him since and- my uncle has made it very clear that any future relationship of a similar nature will not be tolerated while I am still connected with this family so please, take your loving and supportive bullshit and shove it up your -”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Richard, I'm not too old to put you over my knee and learn you some manners.” John rose, exhaling with a cold, quiet fury as he ran a hand through his greying hair. Thomas had had no right- no right whatsoever- whatever his personal feelings-

A month. That tallied with the beginning of the sudden decline in Richard’s attitude. H was hurting, and Richard dealt with pain badly. When his mother died- 

He wheeled around sharply. “You haven’t taken any-”

“No, uncle, Uncle Edmund’s lecture did it’s job. Scarred me for life. I hadn’t even thought about...” he trailed off. “I’ve been going out drinking,” he admitted, and John nodded. 

“I’m sending Harry home with you tonight, he’s going to keep an eye on you for the next few days.”

“What-uncle, that isn’t-”

“I know it’s not necessary. It’s going to happen anyway. You can have a nice few quiet days at home while I deal with Thomas.” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t have happened, Richard, and I’m sorry it did, truly. I hope you can believe that. You always seemed very happy with Robert.” He sat back down. Richard stared at the desk. 

“I was,” he said. “How did you-?”

“Oh. Edmund went down to Oxford to pay you a surprise visit and saw the two of you kissing outside the Radcliffe Camera, he left you to it. Didn’t tell me until you asked to bring  him home at Christmas as a friend, and only admitted it because I got suspicious when he kept asking me how I liked him. We assumed you’d tell us when you were ready, maybe it would have been better to have had it all out in the open sooner and none of this would have happened. On the other hand-”

“If Robert cared more about having 250,000 in cash than he did about me then maybe it’ s best he’s out of my life?” Richard asked. “I tried telling myself that. It made me feel worse.”

“Go home,” John said gently. “Take the week off and come back in next Wednesday ready to get back down to business. You’ve the potential to make a fine C.E.O Richard, don’t waste it.”

“I thought I was a spoilt, selfish brat.”

“You are a spoilt, selfish brat. And the original Henry Plantagenet-” 

Richard groaned. “Oh God, here we go-”

“The original Henry Plantagenet was a spoilt, selfish brat who thought he was entitled to take possession of a small little trading company just because his granddaddy had said it ought to go to his mother when he was old and senile and do you know what-?”

“He won the case against his uncle Stephen, took control of small little trading company, expanded it and turned it in to the Plantagenet Group, condemning his descendants to hear you repeat the story on a loop over and over. Here's hoping I take more after him than I do after great-grandfather Edward, even if I do have more in common with him- I’d hate to end up getting shot by my wife’ s lover after stumbling across them doing it in my bed because my bed was where I’d been planning to take my boyfriend, who was shot seconds after me. No, a wife who ends up staying in a different house entirely, a bunch of children who hate my guts and the only one who doesn’t nearly destroying this company over shareholders’ rights would be much more preferable.”

“Manners, Richard, learn them- don’t cheek your elders.” he smiled despite himself. Richard smiled back, though it was more just a movement of facial muscles. Now he thought about it, it had been an age since he saw Richard properly smile- he should have realised something was wrong sooner. He supposed he’d just chalked it up to teenage rebellion, like the history of art degree he’d insisted on doing. 

He’d have to watch that. Richard wasn’t a child any longer, he was an adult, albeit a young one. He found the same with Henry- he expected both boys to still be thirteen, fourteen, and they weren’t.

“When can I expect my baby sitter?” Richard asked. 

“Around seven,” John told him. Henry wouldn’t object, when he explained. Richard and nightclubs was a bad combination, and if Henry’s company kept Richard out of them, so much the better for everyone. “Go on, off with you.”

“Thanks.” Richard stood. “I really am sorry about the meeting. Honestly I am. If I’d remembered...”

“It’s done,” John said. In all honesty, it had gone about as well as he’d expected- which was nowhere- but Richard’s absence actually gave them an opening to try again, if he called to apologize for his absence, as he’d suggested. They could discuss it when he got back. Richard slipped out of the office; John exhaled before walking around his desk, picking up the phone and punching in the number for PR. 

“Thomas?” he said, as his brother picked up. “Get up here, right now!”

[looselucy]

January

“I can’t believe you’ve done this.” Mike shook his head. “I’m already ten minutes late to my meeting, but I feel like this is going to be totally worth it.” Harry leered. What they were referring to, was the fact that I hadn’t told Louis about the fact I knew he had a girlfriend. Why you ask? The reasons are threefold. 1. I was being dramatic. I needed a blowout. 2. I needed to see his face drop. 3. I had also needed those two days to calm down.

So it was Monday afternoon, ten past two, and Louis and Zayn were due to finish their lecture at two and walk through that door at any moment. Since the people of our flat had all heard of my plans, I had actually gathered a little crowd for the occasion, because I wasn’t the only one who needed to see the look on Louis’ face when he was confronted by me. Thanks to the fact I had that time to calm down, I was actually pretty excited about it. I knew as soon as I actually saw him again I would get upset, and angry, but there wasn’t a chance that I would go through the experience without getting some weird sense of pleasure from it. “What’s your meeting about?” Mike asked Harry. “I want to speak to them about how I want more freedom. I’m a mature student now, at university. I deserve freedom. I’m an adult now.” “So... you’re purposefully running late to that meeting, to watch two people have an argument? Okay… Is that because you’re an adult too?” Mike seemed confused. “Yes. And as an adult, I have my priorities completely sorted.” Mike nodded in complete agreement, and I shook my head at the two of them, pacing the floor nervously. My fingers were the most fidgety part of my body, they kept twitching and scrunching and stretching every few seconds. Tally rushed out of her room a few seconds later. “OKAY I’M HERE! DON’T START WITHOUT ME!” “Pip, are you going to cry?” Mike asked. I finally stopped in my tracks, eyes extended as wide as possible, stomach dropping dramatically. It was almost like I had completely forgotten the kind of person I was. “Oh fuck!” I stuttered. “What if I cry? I always bloody cry! Oh no. Oh no, I can’t cry! I can’t do this if I cry, it’ll ruin the whole thing!” “But maybe that will make it worse!” Harry tried. “Of course that will make it worse, Harry. Jesus, that’s my point.” “No, I mean for Louis! Wasn’t that one of the first things you bonded over? I mean, he used to call you The Crier, right? I dunno. It would probably make him feel even worse. I say cry. I say cry loads.” “Okay. Okay right. I’ll just do what comes naturally. If I cry, I cry, right? That’s fine.” “Definitely.” Harry agreed. It was probably the most nervous I had ever been in my entire life. I had never sought out to have that kind of confrontation with anyone. They had happened before, but never with so much preparation. I knew things wouldn’t go how I wanted them to. I had this whole scenario planned out in my mind, and if Louis was to reply with every single reply I had thought out in my head, it could have gone quite smoothly. But the possibility of him saying exactly what I thought he would was very slim, throwing my whole argument off course. I was stood panting in the kitchen when I heard the front door open. I felt vomit in my throat when Zayn gave the signal. ”HELLO, HELLO, HELLO... HELLO.” Granted, we could have thought of a better signal. It was the most unnatural greeting I had ever heard, which sent Mike off laughing into a cushion straight away. At that stage though, for me, there was nothing that could make me laugh. Zayn walked in first with an alarmed look on his face. Although I had eventually got him to agree to getting Louis round without giving away my true intentions, I knew he wasn’t happy about it. I also knew he wouldn’t want to miss it. He snuggled down right in the middle of Harry and Mike, Tally’s camp chair scraping on the floor as she tugged it around to watch the kitchen area like it was a bloody stage. Louis soon followed. “Hey, babe.” His smile was annoyingly beautiful as he headed my way. “YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!” I yelled aggressively. That was not what I had meant to say. I had already ruined my plan of how the conversation was going to go without Louis even throwing me off in the first place. I didn’t even get to see his face drop, because I was too busy burying my own face in my hands through the utter shame I felt for ruining my own plan. “What?” I heard him say. “You’re a piece of shit.” I dropped my hands. He was playing dumb, which really pissed me off. He had a confused look on his face, pretending he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. “Pip-” “What happened to you not having a Facebook? OH WAIT, YOU DO HAVE A FACEBOOK, YOU JUST TOLD ME YOU DIDN’T SO THAT I COULDN’T SEE THAT YOU HAVE A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND.” He still said nothing. “MAISIE!” He didn’t say anything. Literally nothing. He just stared at me, and over his shoulder I could see the four of them doing exactly the same thing. I made sure the silence was long and dragged out. He probably expected me to shout some more, but I was just waiting for some kind of excuse or explanation, or anything. He gave me nothing. “Someone say something.” Mike whispered, rather loudly. But still, no one said anything. The most uncomfortable part for me, was the fact that Louis hadn’t dropped his head. He still held my eyes like he had done nothing wrong. That was a whole new level of confidence. I held my hand out, egging him to talk. “Okay...” He mumbled. “I do... Shit. Yeah, I have a girlfriend. I didn’t mean to... Fuck. I didn’t-” “Didn’t what, Louis?” I snapped. ”I didn’t mean to hurt anyone! Not you. Not her. I just... When I met you, I was automatically like, infatuated with you. I didn’t know how to say no! You were there, and gorgeous, and clearly interested. And Maisie was… so far away... Shit. I didn’t know what to do!” Did he want me to accept his excuses? Did he want me to swoon over his words and accept his compliments? Because there wasn’t a damn chance that was what I was going to do. “How many girls have you cheated on her with?” I asked. “Just you!” “Bullshit!” “I’m being serious, Pippa! It’s just you! You do something weird to me!” He cried. I rolled my eyes and scoffed so perfectly in sync, I got a little chuckle from the four idiots sitting behind Louis. He turned around, and they shut up automatically, dropping their heads and pretending they weren’t listening. Louis turned back to me pretty swiftly. “Are we really doing this here?” He asked. “Yeah, we are, actually.” I choked. “Because you’ve made a complete fool out of me, and now it’s time for me to do the same to you. You’re a really shitty person.” “I know.” He replied with a twisted honesty in his tone. “I really hate you. Like, I really hate you.” “I know... I kind of hate me too.” “How did you think this was going to turn out?” I puzzled. “I don’t know. I was thinking I would see how things went, how I felt about you. If it was going good, I was gunna...” He trailed off, but we all knew exactly what he was going to say anyway, so I just finished his sentence for him. “You were going to break up with her?” I whelped, he nodded. “You’re a piece of shit! I feel so so bad for her.” “Please don’t tell her!” He begged. “I hate you.” I told him. “I will tell her, honestly I will. It would just be better coming from me.” Everything went quiet again as I racked through the cobwebs in my mind to try and think of some of the witty things I had thought to say before the argument actually presented itself, but I couldn’t. It was buried so far in my mind you would have thought I had been thinking about it a year before, not two minutes before. “I’m sorry.” He eventually said. “Yeah, apology not accepted. You can go now.” He looked to me like I was joking, which I most certainly was not. My neck screwed forward and my eyes widened, lips tucked into my mouth, silently saying, go on, get the fuck out. In a matter of seconds he turned on his heel and went, and everyone waited until we had heard the door slam before they began giving me a round of applause, Mike opting for the standing ovation. “That was fantastic.” He grinned. “Truly a beautiful moment.” Harry sighed. “That was so awkward.” Tally added. Everyone was kind of waiting for Zayn to make a comment, but he was just gazing off into nothing like he was going to cry. “Zayn?” Harry prompted. “I hate my life.” “GOOD!” Harry jumped to his feet. “Alright, I need to get off to my meeting. Pip-Squeak, thank you for the entertainment. Truly appreciated. Mike, the standing ovation was very much called for, I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you. Zayn, Louis is a prick, but he’s your prick, I’m sure Pip-Squeak will understand if you stay mates with him. I’m going to stay mates with him, he’s such a laugh. And Tally... Hello.” He darted out quickly, leaving Tally sat lost for words because somehow they still didn’t really know how to deal with one another. Myself and Harry were doing so much better, I kind of felt bad that the two of them were still stuck in that rut. I finally let out the biggest sigh of all time, a weight off my shoulders finally, and I honestly felt ten million times better. I was fine. I felt absolutely fine. “I need to get so drunk tonight.” My bottom lip finally quivered. “Pip, you’re in at nine!” Zayn told me. So it finally happened then. I burst into tears. I was not fine. Tally stood up in an attempt to get to me, but before she could even think for a second, Zayn had practically jumped over the table and wrapped his arms so tightly around me I almost exploded, but the tears were enough of an explosion, and they were coming thick and fast. “Oh, Pip.” He mumbled into my hair. “I know he’s a prick, but all the more reason not to cry. Please don’t cry.” My shaking hands gripped at his jumper, my eyes on his neck and probably leaving a wet trail, but I couldn’t help it. I did have feelings for Louis, there was no way of dodging that fact even though I really wanted to. Luckily, it hadn’t been too long, it hadn’t been long enough for me to be completely invested in the boy, but I was gutted. He was charming and funny and attractive and it would have been impossible for me to not feel the way I did about him. I didn’t want to cry over him, but I couldn’t help it. “Okay, we’ll get really drunk.” Zayn cooed. “Forget your lecture, let’s get really, really bloody drunk.” I sobbed and nodded into his skin, forever glad he was there. To be honest, during that ordeal, I was glad they were all there. Even Harry. + + + There were three showers in the communal said room, all in a line, thankfully hidden from one another with thick tiles that raised just over my head. I often thought about how Mike could definitely see over into the next shower, but that was one of the many reasons I never had a shower at the same time as Mike. Myself and Tally however, that was absolutely fine. Blocking each shower cubical space was a fresh drape, which they must have replaced every year because they were crisp and clean, relatively see through but blurred just the right amount, even though if one of the lads were to walk in they would get a decent eyeful. I couldn’t wait not to have to worry about that once we had to move out of our halls. “Don’t you just fucking hate boys?” Tally spoke a little louder over the water. “I really do. The lot of them.” I groaned, washing my hair. “I don’t know why I even bother. Waste of time.” “Louis seemed so nice too.” “Exactly! He was one of the nice ones and he’s still a complete idiot.” I sighed. I was feeling very sorry for myself as I bent down and grabbed my pink sponge and pink shower gel, before smothering my body with the scented goo, looking forward to our night out because I desperately needed a drink. I thought back to New Year’s Eve, where I had considered doing a ‘Dry January’ where I didn’t drink at all, but it was now the 14th of January, and that plan had been completely shot to shit. There was no way I could have ever successfully completed a dry month, and I wondered why I ever thought I could. “Oh god.” Tally gasped “This shower gel is tingling my nipples like mad!” “Is it that green stuff?” I asked. “Yeah!” “Yeah, careful with that stuff, it’s lethal.” I rinsed through my hair again. “You going home for reading week?” She asked. “Yeah, we have to, don’t we? They have people coming to view our flats in that week so they’ve asked us to go.” “Oh yeah! I can’t wait.” “I know. I’m looking forward to just having a chilled week at home.” I heard her turn her shower off so I did the same thing, reaching my hand out and grabbing my towel from the hook outside and wrapping myself up tight before me and Tally stepped out at practically the same time. “I reckon we go on the pull tonight.” She said to me, rinsing out her wet hair. “I want to avoid boys at all costs.” I told her. “URGH, WRONG! You should never want to avoid boys, no matter how awful they all are. C’mon. I want to unsuccessfully attempt to make Harry jealous, and you need to be reminded that there are people worth kissing in the world other than bloody Louis Tomlinson.” I wanted to say no, but I knew there was no point, because Tally would be pushing boys towards me all evening, whether I wanted her to or not. There was no point putting up a fight. All I wanted to say was that I would rather kiss boys for my own pleasure instead of doing it to get back at Louis, and she should be doing the same, rather than doing it in the hope of affecting Harry, but it was pretty useless. I squeezed as much water from my hair as physically possible before we both walked out of the shower room together into the kitchen, where the lads all sat in a line watching tele with giant cups of tea in hand, all of them eyeing us in our towels for a second, then going back to Top Gear. I turned the other way, and saw that Ringo had made another rare appearance. “Hi, Ringo.” I smiled. “Hi.” Was her timid response. “You okay?” I asked, stopping to make an effort as Tally went off into her room. “Mmhm.” Was all she mumbled. “We’re going out tonight, you wanna come?” “Why do you even bother?” Harry grumbled. I whipped my head around so quickly, I probably should have snapped my neck, but my bones did well by me and stayed stiff. “Shut up, Harold!” I turned back to face her. “Ignore him, he’s a complete prick. You should come out with us. We all want to get to know you a little better.” “I’m going round to my friends.” She said. “Oh. Okay. Another time?” “Maybe.” She shrugged. I knew there was only so much I could do when it came to Ringo Sparks, but I just felt so bad for her. You could tell she was nice, she was so sweet and innocent looking, the type of person where she kind of looked like she needed a cuddle, and I was willing to be that person who cuddled her. She just wasn’t budging. I turned back around to the lads, who all shrugged in time with one another, still sipping on their tea, all wondering why I was even trying. “You’re all useless.” I told them. They all looked up to me with big, glistening eyes and dumb smiles for a few seconds of silence, before Zayn just completely brushed past the moment. “We’re gunna order pizza for pre-drinks, you in?” I let out a big sigh, and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, sure.” I couldn’t help but get involved. “What do you want?” He asked. “Wanna share a giant Hawaiian one again?” “YES, PIP! Good idea.” I shook my head and marched back to my room after shooting Ringo a small smile, which she returned gently. It was weird, I could almost feel the fact that our night out was going to be a little eventful, as they often had been since Harry moved in. I could feel it niggling in the back of my mind, something was going to happen. I just knew it. + + + “SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!” Zayn banged his hands on the bar every time he shouted the word. Tally had thankfully, found herself a boy, who at first, she had tried to set me up with, but then she’d quickly had a change of heart once she realised how attractive he was. She was all over him in the middle of the dancefloor, leaving me stuck with the lads, but that was okay by me. Even Harry, regardless of the fact he had taken Tally’s place in trying to force boys down my throat. “You should definitely shag someone.” He told me as the barman prepared our drinks. “It’s the only way.” “What if I don’t want to?” I sipped on my drink through a bendy straw. “Well you should want to! You’ll feel loads better for it.” “How exactly?” “Sex makes everything better. One, it feels good. Two, it feels really good. Three, the last penis you had inside you-” “For god sake.” “-belonged to Louis. Which is not good. That needs to change. Because the last girl whose penis... No. Wait. Let me figure this out.” He pulled a face of confusion and stood trying to figure out what he was saying. “The last person who Louis’ penis was inside, was not you. So... you need to have sex with someone else. I BET MIKE WILL DO IT!” Mike raised his hand and smiled wide. “Yeah, I can do that for you.” He went along with it. Harry held his hand in front of Mike and smiled just as wide, silently going, hey, here’s your guy. They both seemed stupidly proud of themselves. I gave out a deep sigh. “Thank you for the kind offer, Mike, but I’m going to have to pass it up.” “Suit yourself.” He tutted. “You are missing out on some very good sex. I am a thrill in the bedroom.” “I’m sure you are, Mike.” “ALRIGHT TROOPS THE SHOTS ARE IN!” Zayn took us back to the drinking. “And today’s challenge is simple. We take the red shot, and keep it in our mouths, we then add the blue shot, keep it in our mouths, and then finally the green, when we down everything all in one.” “Man, that’s fucking disgusting.” Harry pointed out the obvious. “If you don’t like it, take a hike, sir. That’s what we’re doing.” We all just shrugged and picked up the first shot, doing as we were told, because Zayn was the king of shots, and we all knew those shot rituals made Zayn weirdly happy, and we all liked happy Zayn. “Good luck, all.” Mike said as we raised our glasses. I felt like I was the only one who was finding it difficult taking the second shot with the first one already in my mouth. The lads were on their third shot by the time I figured out how to fit the second one in without dribbling out the first, and all too soon, they were done, and I was trying to figure out how to get even more liquid in my mouth. I looked up to Zayn with my cheeks puffed out and pain in my eyes. “Pathetic. As always.” He grinned. I tried to mumble something in reply, but a little of it dribbled from my mouth, which was ridiculously unattractive. “That’s what you’re gunna look like later if you take my advice and shag someone.” Harry raised his brows cheekily. With that, the two shots that were in my mouth exploded out all over Zayn’s shirt as I burst out laughing, no chance of holding it in, the third shot spilling onto the floor in my hand. “For fuck sake, Pippa!” Zayn yelped, looking down to his now ruined shirt. “I’m sorry.” I could barely breath, never mind talk, I was laughing so much. I could feel how proud Harry was for making me laugh that much as he looked down to me with a dopey smile, Mike laughing just as much as I was. During my fit, Tally walked over to us, the boys hand in hers. “I’m going back to ours.” She said pretty glumly. “I’m bringing Christian with me.” “Christian?” Mike smiled to himself. “May God be with you.” The lad gave Mike the strangest look, obviously not really getting Mike’s sense of humour, which a lot of people didn’t. But that just set me off even more. Harry was creasing by this point too. Zayn, however, was still looking down to the mess of colours on his shirt. “Bye, Harry.” Tally said bitterly. She tugged on the lads hand harshly as she dragged him out of Thimble, staring at Harry as she went, who watched her go with an extremely confused look on his face, which I couldn’t help but watch as my laughter died out. Suddenly Harry’s face dropped. “Oh shit. Pip-Squeak?” “Hm?” “Louis just walked in.” My heart started beating so fast, nerves and bile and anger bursting through my veins. Suddenly it was like I completely forgot what laughing was all together. I felt sick, the thought of seeing him made me feel nauseated. Zayn glanced across to where Harry was looking, then cursed quietly to himself. “This is so awkward for me!” He moaned. “Don’t you dare leave me to go and talk to him! Please Zayn!” “I’m not going to, Pip, but-” “LOOK I KNOW I’M BEING SELFISH! But bloody hell, it only happened today. Just give me time, alright? You can’t be his friend today.” Zayn itched at his eyelid and just nodded, because he was understanding my point no matter how childish I was being. I just needed a little more time. I felt bad for Zayn, he was stuck in the middle once again, just like he had been/was with myself and Harry, but it would pass. Hopefully one day, myself and Louis could be okay, but until then I needed Zayn to just back me up and stick by my side. “Okay, we need to find you a man.” Harry said sternly. So that’s what we did. We went and attempted to find me a man. I ended up dancing near a lot of boys, but never going in for the kill, because I would get too nervous. That was when I kind of wished Tally was still about. She was so confident, men were drawn to her like flies to shit, and that often gave me the opportunity to pick at the ones she had discarded, and they would settle for me. It wasn’t too easy trying to pull boys when I was surrounded by three guys, one who was covered in tattoos, one who was six foot five, and the other who people knew had broken some lads nose. I wasn’t even getting close. It must have been around two hours later, I had spotted Louis staring at me from the other side of the dancefloor all night, seeing my unsuccessful attempts with the boys, and I was absolutely done. “Nope.” I said, with possibly my eighth drink in hand. “It’s not happening. I give up.” “SOUND, I’m going for a smoke. You coming?” Zayn asked. “I’ll come!” Mike said cheerily. The two of them scurried off as Harry eyed up the nearest men like he was going to take one for himself, before he looked over to Louis again, and then back at me, real sympathy in his eyes. “It’s not going well, is it?” He cringed. “Exactly. There’s no point. I give up.” “ALRIGHT, I’ll take one for the team. I’ll kiss you.” He said confidently. “Take one for the team? Bloody hell, Harry, don’t act like you’re doing me any favours.” “I didn’t mean it like that.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t even want to kiss you.” I huffed. “What? Bullshit. Everyone wants to kiss me. I’m really handsome. C’mon, I’m offering myself on a plate to you and you’re saying no? All the girls in the world will be very disappointed in you.” He nodded. I had never in my life met someone quite as conceited as Harry Styles was. He was so blissfully self-obsessed in his little Harry world where he was the king of the everything and all females were crawling up to his throne, drooling as they went. I stared blankly at him. He raised his eyebrows, trying to reinforce the idea we were going to kiss. “No.” I said simply. “Do you want to make him jealous?” He asked, now moving closer and leaning in closer to talk to me. “Yes.” “Well we know how to do it.” ”It would never work.” I explained. “He knows we hate each other. It would be so obvious you were kissing me to take one for the team rather than actually wanting to.” “I’m gunna do it.” “No, Harry.” “I’m gunna kiss you.” He moved even closer. “Harry, no!” I shoved him away, laughing. “Watch me go! I’m doing it...” It was the weirdest thing. I stopped laughing. I let my chuckles die down, and I stopped fighting him. I just stood there like I was waiting for him to close the small gap between us. I think I even bit my lip. It was surreal. But it only lasted a second, before Louis appeared at our side, a little breathless. “Pippa, can I talk to you?” I was so tempted to throw the drink in his damn face and storm away, like something from a movie, and everyone would cheer and laugh and I would feel wonderful. But I knew I would actually feel pretty badly about it so I kept my hand still. “About what?” I groaned. “Just give me two minutes, okay?” I looked up to Harry like I was looking for a second opinion, whether I should go and talk to him or not, and he flicked his head towards the smoking area, telling me I should just give him those two minutes he had asked for. I gulped hard, then looked back to Louis, who was looking very cute as he shuffled on the spot. I had to scream in my head to remind myself that he was not cute. He was in fact, fucking awful. “Fine.” I mumbled. Louis took off, and just when I was about to follow, Harry grabbed hold of my arm, leaning in so close I could feel his lips on my ears as he spoke to me. “See, I didn’t even need to kiss you and he was overcome in a jealous rage. It’s just my aura.” “Fuck off, Harry.” I laughed, whacking his arm away from me. I nervously followed Louis, glad to see Zayn and Mike walking back in so Harry wouldn’t be on his own, not that he was the type to care too much when he had that much alcohol in his system. Zayn gave me a look when we crossed paths, silently asking what was going on, if I was okay. All I could do was nod, as I trailed behind Louis, a little anxious about what he was going to say, but drunk enough to deal with it. As soon as he was outside, Louis whipped out a cigarette and toked on it so quickly it was like needed the damn thing to function. That calmed me though, the fact that he was even more nervous than I was, it made me feel better. Somehow, I had the upper hand. “I broke up with her.” He rushed. “Already? You don’t waste any time once you’ve been exposed.” I groaned. “I just... I thought you should know. I’m not with her anymore.” I waited for him to say something else, until I realised that he was done, that was all he had to say. It didn’t take long for it to sink in exactly what he was insinuating. “You’re joking, right?” I stood there, baffled. “You think I’m just going to fall back into your arms now you’re single?” He shook his head, just as baffled as I was, huffing out a fake breath of air right from his chest, a little amazed by my response. “I just thought-” “Sorry, Tommo, that ship has sailed.” “But-” “It’s not going to happen. You’re a piece of shit, and I don’t want anything to do with you. Like, we’re done. It wasn’t just the fact that I found out you had a girlfriend, it was everything that said about you. That you could do that to her. I don’t want to be with someone like that.” It was bizarre; he really wasn’t expecting that from me. He thought I would be happy that he was single now and we could go back to being how we had been. I could tell he was trying to think of something to say, a way to defend himself, a way to try and win me back, which also felt great. If I had a watch on my wrist I would have pretended to check it just to add to my moment. “Are we done? Because I really need a drink.” He didn’t say anything else as I pushed past him, leaving him speechless and gutted to have lost out on such a marvellous woman like myself. I felt great. I literally felt fucking great. + + + By the time my phone woke me up, I had eleven missed calls. I groaned and wriggled around in my bed, having just missed the eleventh call from my mother, and just waiting for her to ring again because I knew it would happen within the minute. I was too rough to even think about why I would have eleven missed calls from her. I really should have been thinking about what could possibly be so urgent that she had rang me so many times, but I was too busy wondering why I had opted to get a bottle of champagne after my chat with Louis the evening before. I guess I saw it as some kind of celebration. A toast to me. As I smiled smugly to myself for the evening before being such a success, my phone rang again, marking the twelfth call from my mother. That time, I answered. “Hello, Lisa.” My voice was once again in tatters. “Where the bloody hell have you been?” I could tell she was crying, and my stomach dropped. I bolted upright, terrified, everything went at a thousand miles a minute as I thought about what could have happened and what could have gone wrong. My automatic thought was that something had happened to either my grandma or grandad, and I felt like bursting into tears straight away. “What’s going on?” My voice shook. “I just called to let you know your father is a total bastard and I’m leaving him.” I felt the life drain from my skin. I felt the life in me trickle out and smash on the floor beside my bed. I felt bile rising through my throat, which was likely to happen when I was hungover anyway. Then hearing that? I knew I was going to throw up, it was just a question of how long I could keep it down. “What?” My eyes filled. I could tell she was on the move, possibly packing her bags or throwing them into the car, the image was crystal clear. Her exhausted, breathless voice helped me create that image. “He’s a cheating, horrible, horrible man and I need you to know that I’m leaving him, okay? I need you to know that. I love you. I love you so much, Pippa. And I love Liam, and I need you to not even talk to your father again.” “Dad cheated on you?” I wept. “I’m going to live with Julie for a while. I just needed you to know. I can’t hide this anymore. I saw his emails. He’s been cheating on me for a long time, Pippa. I have to go, okay? I need to go.” “No, mum, please-” I choked, an absolute mess. “I’ll speak to you soon, okay?” She broke too, getting less angry and more heartbroken. “I’ll explain everything soon. I’m sorry.” She hung up, and like that, everything came out, everything emptied from my stomach and fell down onto the floor next to my bed, burning my throat as it went. As soon as that was done, I flopped back and whacked my head against the wall behind me, and I just sobbed. It was loud and painful and I could feel it all consuming me. Straight away, I was thinking about families, how it was always something I wanted because I had such a great example in my parents. That had just fallen apart in a phone-call that hadn’t even lasted five minutes. I also thought of Liam, wherever he was in the world, blissfully unaware of our now broken family. I couldn’t believe how quickly everything had just fallen apart. It was only a couple of minutes later that Zayn practically broke through my bedroom door, jumping over to my bed and holding me as tightly as he physically could. “Pip, what happened?” He asked after a while, but all I could do was cry. “Holy fuck, Pip. I’m so scared. Please tell me.” I couldn’t speak. It must have been a good half an hour before I managed to blurt out what had happened, and all that did was make him hold me again, tight and prolonged. I cried for hours.

[fallen-gravity]

prompt: maui, after leaving te fiti, looking at moana and realizing that he just wants to protect her + coming back for her. bonus points for post- te fiti scene complete with emotional conversations and fluff

this is an intervention, seren. You can’t keep trying to get me to join the dark side when you keep inspiring me to write the fluffiest stories I’ve ever written like this. It’s just not going to work. It’s never going to work.

let’s play a little game I like to call “spot how many times the author desperately held back on using the word ‘love’”. Here’s your first clue: It’s a lot.

Maui’s been flying for an hour before the smokefinally clears from the sky.

Once he can finally see what’s in front of himagain, he flares his wings to gain more wind to push him higher into the airand to get him farther away from Te Fiti faster. There’s no way Moana can seehim anymore, but Maui doesn’t care. He just wants to be away from everything,away from Te Fiti and her accursed heart, away from the red spiral on the sailof Moana’s canoe, away from the familiarity and the false sense of comfort thewood on its deck provided him.

Away from Moana, the one responsible for thecrack running through his hook, from the young mortal who dived into Lalotai tohelp him retrieve it, the mortal who fought off Tamatoa to save him withnothing but her wisdom and immense amounts of empathy for a mortal her age, themortal whose voice cracked on his name as she begged and pleaded for him tostay, to fight with her, who stretched out her arms just as he took off hopingit was enough to get him to-

No. It doesn’t matter now what Moana was doing,because she’s not his problem anymore. 

Yeah. That’s what she’s been. A problem.Ever since he’s met her she’s caused him nothing but trouble. Repeatedlywhacking him with her oar, summoning the Kakamora to her tiny vessel, nearlygetting eaten at least a dozen times down in Lalotai, and now, nearlycosting him his hook because she’s too stubborn to just listen. Maui shovesthose thoughts aside, ruffles out his feathers a bit, and refocuses hisattention on the sea below him. He supposes the one good thing to come out ofthis mess was that the kickback of the impact Te Kā’s fist had on his hook sentthem flying hours off course, so finding an island to take refuge on to sortout his thoughts shouldn’t take that long.

It’s another half hour before he sees so much asanother speck of land. There’s no full-sized islands, green and blooming withlife, just large crags of rock and scattered groups of small, dying islands toofamiliar to his own for his comfort. Maui shakes his head again and pusheshimself up higher into the sky to see if he can find something more suitable tohis liking farther out. Surprisingly, though, even as he soars above the cloudsto look for more, he’s still met with nothing but dead or close-to islands andlarge crags of dark stone everywhere he looks.

I’m here because you stole the Heart ofTe Fiti.

Well, at least the kid had been right aboutsomething. Stealing the heart really did seem to have a pretty bad effect onthe islands. Maui’d just thought she was trying to get a rise out of him, likethe idea that he was hurting humanity would convince him any better togo with her (and it had, but it’s not like Moana’s around to hear him admitit), but it turns out the kid was actually right about that too. Every littleisland he finds himself coming across is either blackening and turning to ash,or wearing away with the breeze, leaving behind a pale white of the likesMaui’s only seen on his own island. If he were in his human form, it wouldn’ttake much to know just who’s side of the scoreboard Mini Maui would be adding atally mark to right about now.

Maui goes to roll his eyes, somewhat amused by the thought,but catches himself and stops. He settles instead to scoff at himself, rufflingout his feathers again, because he’s thinking about her, again, he’s notsupposed to be thinking about her, he’s supposed to be mad at her, andrefocuses his attention on looking for somewhere to land. He’s obviously notgoing to find a luscious, green island anytime soon, so Maui supposes he’s justgoing to have to settle for the next thing large enough to support himto land on instead. (Distantly, he thinks back to a few weeks after Lalotai,when Moana excitedly told him about Motunui, how green and how beautifulher home island is, but Maui furiously stamps down that thought and looksfor something smaller).

It’s two hours since he left Te Fiti when he finallycomes across an island large enough and lively enough that it wouldn’t crumbleto ash and salt if he were to land on it, and from the air Maui can tell thatit’s entirely unoccupied by anyone else. Soundlessly, he dives down towards theshore, and winces inadvertently when his hook crackles painfully as he shiftsback into his human form. Hefting it over his shoulder, Maui starts off towardsthe center of the island, but before he can so as much take a single stepforward there’s a violent yanking of his arm that stops him dead in his tracks.When he glances downward, Mini Maui’s holding the edge of his tattoo. When hissmall counterpart sees he has his attention, he glares up at him and snaps thetattoo back against his skin.

“Ow!” Maui glares down at him, more surprised thanactually hurt. “What was that for?”

Mini Maui’s glare deepens, and he shakes his head.He jumps over to Maui’s other arm, and gestures violently back towards the directionof Te Fiti.

“What?” Maui splutters, and his glare hardens. “No.”

Mini Maui copies his expression, the little glareset on his face hardening as well. He shakes his head, and gestures backtowards Te Fiti, more violently this time.

“I said no.” Maui growls, and turns his gazeaway from Te Fiti and down towards Mini Maui. “I told her, and I’ll tell you. I’mnot going back” he mutters, his voice dropping to a low tone.

Mini Maui just shakes his head, and gives him a questioninglook.

“Why?” Maui asks, and lets his hook slip off of hisshoulder and down to his side before he holds it up to his eye level. “Becauseshe ruined my hook”

Mini Maui shakes his head, and leaps over to hisback. Maui can feel a twinge of heat, like phantom pain, as his tattoo of Te Kāanimates to life. He scoffs. “Details.” he wiggles his hook out in front ofhim. “It doesn’t matter who actually cracked it, because she’s the onewho caused it.” Maui shakes his head. “If she’d just listened to me thefirst time, like any other normal person would, and she hadn’t tried tosqueeze her tiny canoe through a hole it never would’ve made through anyway, Inever would’ve had to leap forward and protect her to prevent her fromgetting herself killed!” Maui throws his arms into the air overdramatically,but freezes at the words coming out of his own mouth, his warrior faceshattering to pieces.

To protect her.

Not himself, not her canoe, not even theHeart.  Her.

Maui grumbles to himself, frustratedly, andscrambles to rearrange his warrior face back on before the little inkednuisance can notice it’s even gone. Even if it was for her, to keep hersafe, it doesn’t excuse that it was her stupid act that got her in troublein the first place, and no amount of protectiveness he decidedly does not feelfor her is going to change the fact that it was she who pushed herself directlyinto the path of Te Ka’s fist in the first place.

But when he glances back down at Mini Maui, he’sstanding with his arms crossed smugly over his little chest, one eyebrow cockedupwards at him with a grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, stay out of it” he deadpans, and flicks him toa panel on his back. If he didn’t know better, he could almost swear that MiniMaui’s laughing as he scrambles away back to his front. “I told you. That’s notthe part that matters.”

Mini Maui cocks his eyebrow up at him again, andwhen Maui glares again the little tattoo holds up his hands, almost as agesture of defeat, and he grins as he squints his eyes closed to demonstratelaughter.

Maui sighs, heavily, and his glare drops to a blankexpression. “Alright, alright.” he starts, and his hook drops to the ground ashe holds up his hands in a gesture of defeat, a mirror to the same motion hislittle tattoo had just done a moment ago. “Fine. I’ll play along. Yes, Idid it to protect her.”

Mini Maui rolls his hand in a circular motion,encouraging him to keep going. Maui sighs.

“No, she wasn’t actually the one whocracked it.”

Mini Maui repeats the gesture.

“Te Kā” he admits. “Te Kā cracked my hook.” Mauishakes his head. “But what’s saying that out loud gonna do? Magically fix myhook?” Maui snorts incredulously, and Mini Maui’s grin drops. He shakes hishead, and developing a more serious expression, he jumps back over to his othershoulder and points off towards the horizon. Maui turns to follow Mini Maui, andonly finds himself staring back towards Te Fiti.

Oh.

“Nice try” Maui starts. “But I’m still not goingback.”

Mini Maui shakes his head, and jumps back over tohis spot on his chest, but instead of snapping the edge into his skin, orgiving up and settling back into place, he flashes his little inked hook andthe entire image on the panel shifts. Taking the place of the sky is a small, rockyisland surrounded by the ocean. Mini Maui sits on the island alone, handspressed to his cheeks in boredom. But before Maui can ask him what he’s doing,a small canoe swims into the panel and stops on the island. Mini Maui visiblyperks up, and runs to board the canoe. He sits down, and the little canoe turnsand sails away from the little island.

Maui opens his mouth to question what he’s doing,but the answer comes to him before he can ask and he blinks rapidly at therealization.

Moana saved him by pulling him off of that littleisland. It wasn’t something he’d thought at the time, and certainly wasn’tsomething he’d thought about much on the journey to Te Fiti. But Mini Maui hasa point. A thousand years he’d spent on that island, and nobody came to hisrescue but Moana.

Often times, long after he ran out of space on theboulders for any more tallies or for more carvings of his own feats, he’d oftenpass the time by sitting atop the tallest boulder and staring out at thehorizon. Most of the time he’d clamber up to watch the sun rise or set, andoccasionally he’d sit back to gaze at the stars, but sometimes, on rare occasions,he’d climb up just to stare out at the ocean.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been looking for at thetime, or what it meant when he’d find himself staring at the sun glimmering offof the waves, but he knows, now, that he’d been looking for a boat. Every timehe stared out at the ocean, he’d be hoping, praying he would see somesight of a mast or hear the sound of a sail ruffling in the wind, but in histhousand years on that island he didn’t see any sight of any boat.

Except for one.

Maui goes to say something, but before he canthere’s another flash of Mini Maui’s little hook and the image shifts again.Mini Maui’s still on that little boat, but then a group of inked clouds clearin front of him to reveal another canoe. Aboard the second canoe sits threeKakamora pirates. Mini Maui’s hook pops out of existence, momentarily, and hejumps into a fighting stance. Before he can leap onto the second canoe,however, something just outside of the tattoo panel knocks a fourth Kakamorainto view, barreling it straight into the other three and knocking them intothe water below. The figure out of view tosses something to Mini Maui, and hehops up to catch it. He then holds up the little trinket towards his largecounterpart, and even in ink form the Heart of Te Fiti is undeniablyrecognizable.

…That too. Somehow, miraculously, after theKakamora stole the heart of Te Fiti, Moana had fearlessly boarded their boatand stole it back before he had time to conjure an escape plan. Oar in hand,she’d climbed aboard an enemy vessel and let nothing stop her until shegot what she wanted.

Another flash of a tiny hook, and another shift inthe image. There are tiny trinkets and what appears to Maui to be little stonesscattered all over the floor of the panel. Mini Maui stands in the middle,facing the right wall of the panel, when all of a sudden the little trinkets onthe ground begin to tremble. Mini Maui stumbles backwards and lands on hisbehind, and Tamatoa steps out from other side of the panel, and Maui’s lipstwitch downward at the sight. He doesn’t need to keep watching to see wherethis is going, so he doesn’t. Maui pulls his gaze away from the display andabsentmindedly turns his gaze back out towards the horizon.

That day, when he faced Tamatoa, he feared for thefirst time in millennia that he could’ve died. It wasn’t an irrational train ofthought, of course, but it was a new feeling and quite frankly one Maui didn’tlike in the least. He could actually feel his muscles gradually beginning togive up on him as Tamatoa tossed him around his cave like he was little morethan a plaything, and Maui wouldn’t be lying if he said he was fully expectingMoana to do the same thing. Sneak out of her cage when Tamatoa had his backturned to her, and abandon him for the crag in her wall for her own safety.

…But she didn’t. Instead she blew his expectationsof her out of the water, again, and chose instead to risk her own lifeto protect his. Without hesitation Moana jumped in front of Tamatoa’s path,knowing very well that he could kill her anytime he wanted to, and taunted himoff in a different direction to save Maui’s life. She’d returned to his sidethe instant Tamatoa was distracted with her decoy Heart, and she wrapped herarms around him and placed a supporting hand on the center of his back as shecarried and supported him back to her canoe.

And speaking of support, despite everything he’dgrown to know about Moana, despite the endless number of times she managed tooutdo herself, nothing shocked him about Moana more than how supportive she’dbeen about his origin story. Instead of turning away, of saying nothing at all,she sat beside him and used everything in her power to calm him down. Sheconvinced him that it was he who made him Maui, not the gods, or hishook, or even his mother, but him. All the good he’s done, she’d said,was because he was a good person, and had nothing to do with any godlike powersor magical weapons. Sure, those things helped, she’d joked, but neither ofthose things had anything to do with the why.

And when he finally found the courage to turn andmeet her eyes, if only for a brief moment, it caught him off-guard to noticesomething of fondness for himglinting in her eyes.

This entire trip, Moana’s done nothing but protect him.From the Kakamora, from Tamatoa, from his mother, from himself. She protects,and she cares, and she gives. Gods, from the very beginning, Mona’s donenothing but give.

…And all he’s done and sat back and takenwithout so much as a thanks.

From the ground, his hook crackles loudly, and whenMaui looks down towards it to pick it up he sees that Mini Maui’s gone back toholding up the sky, frozen in place. His hook crackles warmly in his hands, andbetween one spark of purple lightning and the next everything comes rushingback to him so quickly that he hears his own horrified voice whisper Moana beforehe even registers that he’d said it out loud.

The Heart. He’d dropped it before he took off.

Of course she’d go back to restore the Heart.With or without him, Moana is determined to save her people, and he knows nowjust how far this precious mortal is willing to go to save them. With a flashof his hook, Maui turns hawk and silently flaps off back towards Te Fiti asfast as his wings can carry him.

Maui’s not sure if it’s luck, desperation,determination, or some unholy amalgam of all three, but only one hour haspassed before he finds himself back in the smoke-filled skies of Te Kā’s territory.He’s not sure how much time’s actually passed since he abandoned Moana’s canoe,but his only clue that it’s probably been a few hours longer than he thinksit’s been is the fact that Moana’s canoe is no longer where he left it.

He’s not sure why this causes his chest to clenchtightly, or why his heartbeat starts pounding loudly in his ears, but it does,and Maui bites down a hawk’s screech as he grumbles frustratedly to himself andforces his heartbeat to calm. He’s about to dive down towards the water to lookfor her, because maybe she’s still on the way over and he beat her here, but abright flash of orange out of the corner of his eye and Te Kā’s angry shriekinghas him correcting his course and soaring towards the noise as fast as hiswings can carry him.

He spots the mast of Moana’s canoe disappearing intothe barrier islands about three seconds before he spots the fireball Te Kāhurls at it. Maui soars upwards, high above the smoke fogging the air, and isfilled with more relief than he’s willing to admit when he sees her canoe makeit out the other side safely. The relief’s short lived, though, because when TeKā twists herself around and explodes out of the barrier islands, now facingtowards Te Fiti, Moana’s canoe goes flying and even from this high up Maui canhear the muffled smack as Moana disappears below the waves. Anger, darkand ugly, easily takes the relief’s place, and everything he’s ever known ofstrategy leaves his head as he dives toward her canoe as she helps herself backon board, and when Te Kā begins grabbing for Moana he lets out a loud hawk’sscreech to throw Te Kā off-guard. Te Kā hesitates for a half-moment, and Moana looksup at the sound.

“Maui!” she calls cheerily, and when he lands on hercanoe and steadies himself he lifts his head to meet her gaze.

And in Moana’s smile he finds more warmth than eventhe heat radiating from Te Kā herself.

It’s two and a half months after Te Fiti before Mauisees Moana again.

He touches down on Motunui’s shore, and in secondsMoana is on him, leaping into his arms and wrapping her own around his neckthe same way she had before they parted ways. It’s with a large grin and a loud,unbothered laugh of his own that Maui wraps his arms around her shoulders andspins her in a circle before he lets her fall from his arms and back onto thesand.

“It’s so good to see you!” Moana grins, and puncheshim in the arm. “I’d been wondering when you’d finally decided to show up”. Hergrin widens. “You’re lucky you came when you did, because any later and Iwould’ve taken my canoe out to come find you and drag you back here myself”.

Maui matches her grin with one of his own. “By theear, I presume?”

“You bet!” Moana grins, and stands a bit taller.“Come on! There’s so much I want to show you” she says, and before Maui evenhas time to protest she presses herself to his side and wraps her arm aroundhis as she begins to drag him towards her village.

And as she does, Maui just takes a moment to look ather. To really look. Moana’s walking along the trail to her village soexcitedly she’s practically bouncing, and the grin spread across herface seems to widen with every step they take closer to it. She eventuallycatches him watching her, and when she turns her gaze to meet his, her eyes arepractically glistening in sheer joy.

It’s a good look for her.

“Wait” Maui blurts. “Before we go into the village,there’s something I need you to know”.

“Hm? What’s up?”

“It’s about what happened at Te Fiti”

Moana’s face falls inadvertently, if only for thebriefest of seconds, but long enough for Maui to notice and for a sudden waveof guilt to swirl around in his stomach. Maui forces it down, and shakes hishead. “Look-” he starts. “What I said, what I did-” he pauses. “It was wrong. Inever should’ve left.” he bows his head. “I’m sorry”.

Moana’s quiet for a number of heartbeats. “It’sokay” she says eventually, and steps forward to rest a hand against his cheek.When he lifts his head to meet her gaze, she’s back to smiling at him like shedid on Te Fiti, its warmth only comparable to that of the fires of Te Kā. “Youcame back” she says, and reaches to brush the hair out of his face and tuck itback behind his ear for him. “That’s what matters” she says, and steps forwardto wrap her arms around him in another hug. Maui wraps his arms around her tohug her back, but she pulls away far too soon as a thought apparently comes toher.

“Oh, that reminds me, actually” she says, openingher eyes Maui wasn’t even aware that she’d closed. “I’ve actually been meaningto ask you something, too”

Maui blinks. “Yeah?”

“What madeyou come back?”

“What?”

“When you came back, you said something about aconversation you had with a ‘buddy of yours’” she repeats his own words withair quotes, and shakes her head. “But I think there’s more to it that you nevertold me. What made you come back?” she asks, and when Maui absentmindedlyspares a glance down at his tattoos for an answer his eyes catch on the littlecurly-haired wayfinder resting over his heart.

“It was you, Moana”

Moana blinks, like that was the last thing she wasexpecting out of him. “What?”

“It was you” Maui repeats. “I came back for you.When I left, I turned and saw you everywhere I looked.”

“I touched down on a little unoccupied island about,two hours from the border islands, I wanna say. I tried everything I could toget my mind off of you, but found that the more I tried to push you away, the moreI seemed to think about you.” Maui shakes his head. “Because I was angry.Unfairly so.” he pauses to tap the side of his head. “I wasn’t thinkingstraight”. Maui drops his gaze down momentarily, and when he brings it back upto meet hers he huffs quietly in amusement. “I was on that island for aboutthirty seconds before this guy swooped in to convince me this” he says, andMini Maui animates to life to wave a little hello to Moana. She snortsand waves back.

“He’d pointed out to me that I was being unfair.That this was something I shouldn’t have been mad at you about, because all Iwas trying to do was protect you.” he shakes his head again. “I didn’t buy itat first, so he tried going about convincing me from a different route”.

“And what route was that?”

He can’t help the small smile spreading to his face.He really can’t. “By reminding me of everything you’ve done for me” he brings ahand to his head. “The Kakamora, Tamatoa, my own parents?” he starts,listing off each item with a count of his fingers. “You’ve protected me from somuch, Moana. I could go on and on” he says, and drops his arm to his side.“Ever since we met, Moana, you’ve been nothing but patient with me. Even when Ididn’t deserve it”

Moana’s got an argument for that, and he can seethat she’s about to use it, so he simply shakes his head and holds up a hand tolet her know he isn’t finished.

“Everything we went through out there,” he gesturesout towards the ocean. “You stood by me through it all. But when we got to TeFiti, and you needed me to return the favor, I gave up. I left.”

“That wasn’t fair to you. I realized that after Ilanded on that little island. I couldn’t leave you behind knowing I’d hurtyou”. He bows his head again. “I couldn’t disappoint you, Moana” he murmurs,and pulls his head back up to look at her. “That’s why I came back,Moana. Not because of some obligation, not so I could be the hero again,not even for Te Fiti. I came back for you, and only for you” he finishes, and reaches forward to catch Moana intoa hug as she reaches her arms out towards him, her face crumbling in on itself.Maui gives her a minute to break in his arms, and allows himself a minute tojust hold her before he speaks again.

“And I promise you that I’ll never abandonyou in a time of need like that again”.

[reliquiaenfr]

An Unexpected Magic

There had been a strange phenomenon sweeping all of Sornieth for months: eggs weren’t hatching and no one knew why. Some thought it was a bizarre sort of egg sickness and discarded any that didn’t hatch within the proper timeframe. Some thought it was the work of the gods. Still others remained patient with their unborn, waiting and waiting, having faith that they would hatch in due time.

 Those were the dragons rewarded.

The abandoned eggs, however, resulted in any number of orphaned dragons turning up at lairs when the inevitable happened. Within a few hours it seemed, hundreds – thousands – of eggs all cracked open. After months of stagnating populations, suddenly and inexplicably, numbers in clans all around the world were suddenly swollen thanks to the influx of children.

 Even the Reliquary, with all the bizarre magic it had been labouring under lately, found itself caring for hatchlings no one was expecting. Some of these children appeared in places no one was ready for. After months of visitors only ever appearing at the docks (for reasons no one could explain) suddenly finding hatchlings in caves and stuck in trees and babbling happily as they splashed in the stream dangerously close to deep running water… well it was a huge shock.

 Aphid even found one clinging to the upper frame of the Vault’s entrance, screeching. She was not pleased. She shooed the offending Mirror out and he hooted the whole way. Once outside he joined a trio of other youngsters tearing around the plains to the increasing frustration of those trying to wrangle them all.

 “This is why I don’t want kids,” Aphid grumbled to no one in particular.

 It was just her luck that Osprey was there to hear her. “Because you’re worried about drowning the world in off-colour hatchlings?”

 She levelled her fiercest glare at him. “You know what I meant. What’s the tally at now anyway?”

 He shrugged one shoulder and went back to shuffling through their latest trade reports, looking for his seed prices no doubt. “Last I heard we had nearly thirty little ones barrelling about causing Inerri a headache to last the Age.”

 “What a nightmare.”

 “Oh, I think it’s nice that eggs aren’t sitting frozen anymore. That was scary.”

 She turned her gaze back to her filing. “Reminds me of Fiend, actually.”

 That made him look up, brown eyes blinking as they focused. “Why would it ever do that? She ate children, Aphid!”

 “Yes but she also decided to attack us all because she was afraid we’d take in weird coloured… abominations, she called them.” She waved a paw at the entrance. “Well she was right, they exist. Here they all are and we have taken them in. Makes me wonder if she wasn’t right to be afraid.”

 Osprey made a choked sound in the back of his throat. “You agree with her?”

 “Tch, certainly not. She was mad and monstrous.” Aphid dropped her folder on the desk with a whump. “But we don’t know what caused this? They could be contagious! Could be carrying some horrible disease that will wipe us all out. We don’t know how this happened.”

 “Tarryn’s looking into it,” he said, seemingly unconcerned.

 “Yes, the witch who used to make a habit of poisoning us all. How reassuring.”

 “You’re awfully judgemental, you know that?”

 She rolled her eyes. “I’m concerned. What are we going to do with them all anyway?”

 “They’ll find homes eventually. All of them.” He flipped through a few more sheafs before making a satisfied noise, clearly having found what he was after. “Besides, I’m sure it’s not contagious. How could it be? They were all born this way.”

 And sure, maybe Osprey was right. But Aphid worried anyway, it’s what made her so good at filtering through all the fabrications she heard and finding each grain of truth. It’s what made her excellent at handling money and resources and compiling all the available facts before making a decision.

 He had been precisely correct about one thing: most of the children left the lair and never once looked back. But he’d also seemed certain that the way they lived, their tiny little clan of twenty-five dragons and a few hundred Federation creatures, would go back to how it had been, no harm done. When in fact, this proved to be not the case at all.

 In actuality, Aphid had been right. Having a clan full of kids was awful.

 Because no sooner had the last of the surprise hatchlings disappeared than others joined them. A little sandy dragon coloured strangely like all the rest; she was adopted by Riverstone and Feldspar, added to their collection of gemstone oddities. A fruity Nocturne, all bright smiles and brighter scales, taken in by Seven and Crossfire, a son they raised to be as personable as his parents. And that horrible little Guardian girl who Chevron found one afternoon and Bereave wouldn’t give up. She hadn’t been so bad at first but that had changed.

 Others arrived in the lair with them. Most were older and they carried pasts they wanted to leave behind. That, Aphid didn’t begrudge them, all the dragons of the Reliquary had things they wanted to forget and move past. Or they had skills that made them hard for others to trust (her thoughts travelled to Anthelion and her talents; for a moment she understood why she and Kieri let these dragons stay, they were all alike in that one regard).

 But no, what did concern her was waking up one morning and being fully certain the colour of her scales had changed.

 Aphid didn’t consider herself vain (not any more than the rest of her peers, at least), but it alarmed her enough to think that perhaps this strange colour magic was contagious like she’d feared. Tarryn had told them all weeks ago that it wasn’t, not airborne, waterborne or transmitted by touch. It was a condition formed at birth and that was all there was to it.

 Despite her assurances, Aphid was convinced her scales had shifted in tone. She’d heard plenty of whispers about the condition from her sources. Dragons getting sick or losing motor function or going mad. Horrible things. Nothing really substantial, she’d admit, but it seemed unlikely that so many dragons were making things up, honestly. The chances that all the afflicted dragons already having health problems seemed way too coincidental.

 (She tried not to think about Fiend’s reaction when the rumours had first started years ago. Tried not to imagine that other dragons would be like her, attacking others or harming themselves over this and muddying the facts.)

 But the possibility remained distinctly horrifying. If this surface level change was possible then it might be linked to other, deeper and more serious issues. So she went to the Assembly. It made plenty of sense; they handled other serious issues too. And who did she find there? Osprey, his scales markedly darker than before.

 “Good morning, Aphid,” he greeted her with a gentle smile.

 “It is not a good anything. Look at my scales!”

 He blinked. “Oh, you have a little more blue in your wings,” he noted. “Like Daeddrin!”

 “His wings have always been blue,” she reminded him, confused. Sure, the Ridgeback had turned up with wings covered in sand all muddied and brown. A horrible colour, she’d thought. But after a bath they’d proven a deep blue. She didn’t have a clue what Osprey could mean.

 “Sure, but they’re the most vivid blue now,” he added. “Like a clear summer sky. Gorgeous. And there are gold bits too.”

 “Did you tell him how pretty he is,” she asked wryly.

 “Of course I did. He thanked me.”

 She sighed. “And has anyone else been afflicted by this… whatever it is?”

 He nodded his head slowly, still unruffled by it all. “Norok, Greymarch and Pencil have all been displaying a shift in the tonality of their hides, yes. I think Grey’s going green, actually. You’d like it.”

 “How are you so calm about all this? Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

 “Worried about what? All the oddly coloured hatchlings are healthy and strong, all the guests we get with the strange colours are equally so.” He tilted his head. “Is it possible that Kieri actually received news before you?”

 She huffed. “What news?” That dratted bug, Tarlith, was supposed to bring her information first, no matter her Hive allegiances. That was the deal.

 “Kieri heard that dragons in some of our allied clans – older dragons, ones born before the hatchling influx – had been experiencing the same problems you and I are having. They’re all fine, Aphid.”

 “So why is it happening then?”

 “Magic.”

 They both turned to see Tarryn exiting the Assembly. Aphid struggled more than she’d like to admit to contain the acidic obviously sitting on her tongue.

 “What do you mean?” Osprey asked her. “It’s clearly magic, but what kind could do this?”

 “I was just talking to Anthelion and Kieri and we’re pretty sure it’s due to high concentrations of magical energies,” she explained. “Our lair is overflowing with magic. Based on the reports Tarlith has brought in this morning that’s our best guess. Whatever caused the hatchlings to be born with these new colours is affecting older dragons too. Likely it will for a long time, as in more older dragons will feel the effects in the years to come. Not all of them, but some.”

 Tarlith. Ugh, she knew it. “But is it just a guess?”

 Tarryn smiled softly, though Aphid found it slightly unsettling. “You’re not going to die, Aphid. Most dragons don’t experience much of a shift, so I’ve heard. Feldspar just got here, too; he’s feeling the effects as well. Go talk to Anthelion; she’ll fill you in more.” And with that, the enigmatic Pearlcatcher left them standing there, no more informed than before, really.

 Honestly, she was supposed to just take Tarryn’s word on the matter? Damn Tarlith for not filling her in first. Aphid hated that she felt a little better about the situation after Tarryn’s explanation, too. She’d have to pick Tarlith’s brain before she was satisfied. And! And find more stories corroborating that there was no detriment to the change. And even then…

 “Let’s go do that then,” Osprey said, turning into the Assembly already. “Come on, Aphid. We’ll make sure your claws don’t fall out.”

 She did not find his joke funny, for the record.

[punkscowardschampions]

Rio & Buster

Rio: Word to the wise, McKenna, get your missus off the streets unless you want her to get hate crimed Buster: Like I care what happens to her Buster: Hospital bills aren't in the realm of what I pay for unless they're Jay's Rio: I can assure you I care even less so regardless of how little you feel for this one Rio: get her out of my face, yeah, cheers Buster: Handle her yourself Buster: I'm out of the habit of doing favors for you Rio: Why should I? Rio: She's your mess Buster: She's never been mine Buster: Nothing to me, like Rio: Of course not Rio: 'cept the mother of your child, like Buster: Jay's not gonna wake up and scroll Chlo's social feed. I reckon we're fine Rio: Luckily for you too Buster: What the fuck's that meant to mean? Rio: Hardly keeping it PG are you Rio: at least Chlo has the deceny to keep it fake Buster: Why should I? Buster: None of them are sticking around for playdates Rio: Exactly Rio: don't need to keep a catalouge running for anyone but yourself Buster: If you've got something to say, say it Buster: Don't make it about my daughter when it ain't Rio: Well yeah, it is Rio: Won't be that long before she can use an iPhone Rio: put money on her figuring it out before you get a clue, anyway Buster: Fuck you Rio: Yeah, fuck you and all Buster: You wish, babe Rio: Still out here with the same shit chat Rio: a miracle you can keep Chlo invested nevermind the rest Buster: Not trying to keep anyone invested Buster: It's your problem that it still works on you Rio: Please Rio: Just keep all your bullshit out my face Buster: Says the girl in my inbox seeking me out Buster: Block me. It's well easy Rio: I know it's hard for you to process, but this ain't about you Rio: anyway, if you took your own advice, these messages would be falling on deaf ears so Buster: I know that you knew I wouldn't care before you even said her name Buster: But here you still are, like Buster: And it's my bullshit, yeah? Okay Rio. Whatever you say Rio: Yeah, truly my bad for reckoning you still had some decency Rio: How are you gonna blame me for this one? Buster: Never claimed it Buster: Your bad for seeing what you're desperate to see Buster: I can blame you for not playing by the rules you made up to suit yourself and leaving me alone Rio: You mean my bad for seeing through your bullshit Rio: I'll claim that, happily Rio: Come on, there were never any rules, it was the fucking opposite from the jump Rio: and you've hardly been alone Buster: You'd have more credibility at seeing through me if you weren't so full of shit yourself Buster: But go off if you wanna Buster: 'Cause we both know what it's really about, yeah? Buster: You wear that jealousy well though, babe, don't worry Rio: Fuck off Rio: I have standards, unlike yourself Buster: They ain't high enough to brag about though Rio: You've got that covered too Rio: Maturity of a twelve year old Buster: And? Buster: You're so mature, it's all just playground games what you do, but 'cause there's cash in it you tell yourself it ain't Rio: And, you're a grownass man with a child so sort yourself the fuck out Rio: This ain't about my job Rio: which you have no idea about so don't even go there Buster: It ain't about me as a dad either, which you know even less about Rio: Yeah, 'cos not everything you do affects your kid Rio: think on like Buster: She's a baby and she's protected from this as much as her psycho ma will let her be Buster: Catch yourself on and stop trying to cross new lines with me now that I won't fuck you Rio: Sure, that's your thing, wait until everything's totally fucked before getting out your cape Buster: Rather that than stress something that ain't a thing Buster: Life's too short, babe, you gotta calm down Rio: Shut the fuck up Rio: I know how short it is Rio: its you that's acting like that means it don't matter Buster: 'Cause you've got all the answers, yeah? 'Course Buster: Ask yourself why you're so obsessed with my kid Buster: I know exactly what matters Rio: Yeah? Then fucking act like it Rio: reckon you're so smart when it's obvious why the fuck I care Rio: don't recall how this goes when you mess it up? Rio: 'cause none of us can fucking forget Buster: Then act like it your fucking self Buster: If you gave a shit you'd know that I ain't nothing like that cunt Rio: Not me you have to prove that to Buster: And I already prove it to her Buster: So fuck you Buster: She ain't Edie and she never will be Rio: Fuck you there was nothing wrong with her Rio: it was him Buster: And I'm not him Buster: So stop Rio: You stop Buster: What? Having a life Buster: Didn't reckon being a dad meant I have to book myself into a monastery like Rio: You don't have to or get to treat people, women in particular, like shit Rio: and act as if that's never coming back on you, and fucking her up Buster: I've never treated a girl anything other than how she wants me to Buster: They ain't asking me to get down on my knees with a ring Rio: Whatever, Buster Buster: Not whatever Buster: You know it firsthand don't act like you don't Rio: I'm not accusing you of being a fucking rapist here Rio: but you're gonna sit here and act like you've never turned a blind eye to a girl's feelings just 'cos it suited you Buster: With Chlo, yeah, and I'm still paying for it Buster: Every girl I've been with since knew exactly what was happening and not. I know I'm hot but they are capable of having a convo with me sometimes Buster: If you wanna think different, chat away to my fucking sister, she's been in that camp way longer, properly knows her way around Rio: Jesus Rio: Just get her on the first plane out of here, yeah Buster: If it was that easy she'd already have gone Rio: Yeah well Rio: Good luck Buster: Well, what? Buster: What do you want me to do? Buster: Whatever it is, take more than luck Rio: I'm not here offering solutions Buster: Just saying you care and doing fuck all to prove it, yeah? Buster: I got that Rio: What can I do? Christ, wasn't as if it was a friendly chat Rio: can hardly wave her through customs Buster: You could help me Buster: Instead of being a bitch Rio: I'm not being a bitch Rio: but go on, how? Buster: Whatever Buster: Forget it Rio: No Rio: I'm being serious Rio: Go on Buster: So I am Buster: I'll sort it myself Rio: Alright Buster: Salvage what you can of your night Rio: Whatever Rio: Will she seriously not leave? Doesn't she...do anything in London or what Buster: She can shop and have brunch here too Buster: Swap my parents for hers, with the bonus pair of hands that's me Rio: More tragic than my life and that's saying something Buster: Shut up Buster: You're alright Rio: Don't worry, not looking for sympathy Buster: Not giving it Buster: I don't need to Rio: Hmm Rio: doesn't she have a dog? Rio: could stage a kidnapping Buster: Wouldn't wish that on her parents, they'd get all the blame Buster: They ain't that bad Rio: Alright, just ransom one of her shit friends then Buster: Like she'd actually care Buster: I'm ringing her, once she has enough missed calls from me she'll come running back Buster: Gotta raise the tally to the highest it's been or what's the point, like Rio: Gets her out of town, yeah Rio: but how are you gonna get her out of yours? Rio: maybe your 'rents can Buster: Not your problem Buster: Neither is the fact my parents would have to be around themselves to notice that she is Rio: Guess even their best stern phone voice ain't really going to cut it Rio: Surely there's a social occasion she's missing? Create a fake one, like Buster: Nothing to top her plans to seduce me into playing happy families Buster: But I'm the one who'll mess Jay up Rio: Alright, I didn't compare you to her, come on Buster: Nah, just the biggest cunt, going Buster: Cheers Rio: Not you as a whole Rio: just some behaviour but yeah Rio: said what i said still sorry Buster: Are you? Rio: Don't push it, I ain't gonna repeat the s word Rio: but yes Buster: You can, I won't tell anyone Rio: Yeah? Forgo the social media for that one Rio: Typical Buster: Hardly the first exception I've made for you, babe Rio: Lucky me Buster: Least you can admit that Rio: Idiot Buster: Behave Buster: I clearly ain't as smart as you want me to be but can't go that far Rio: Alright, ain't the first to not be on my level Rio: sure you won't be the last Buster: Shut up Buster: That's the biggest lie you've told me yet Buster: I easily match you Rio: And that's the most defensive you've been Rio: Oh, boy, some things never change Buster: Good. Things weren't that bad how they were Rio: Yeah Buster: You should go, reckon I've got through her thick skull finally Buster: Have some fun Rio: Oh, ain't even thought of a decent plan yet Buster: Don't worry about it Buster: No reason we should both have a shit night Rio: If I was anywhere Chlo could hunt me down, unlikely I was having a rager, isn't it Buster: Yeah well, you were the one trying to say you had standards, babe Buster: You working or what? Rio: Also saying shit was tragic, if your recall's that good Rio: Nah, rare night off Buster: All the more reason to fuck off and do something good then Buster: Ain't too late yet Rio: Do my best, McKenna Buster: Have one for me, like Rio: Done is done Buster: Sláinte Rio: I miss you Buster: Rio Rio: Sorry Buster: Don't Buster: That isn't how I wanted to hear you say sorry Rio: I know Rio: I didn't mean to say it Buster: I know Rio: Okay fuck Rio: bye Buster: Wait Rio: Yeah? Buster: I miss you too Buster: I'm not sorry Rio: Swear? Buster: Yeah Rio: What do we do? Buster: Do you really want me to answer that? Rio: Guess my answer depends on yours so Buster: You already know there's only one thing I can think about doing Rio: Me too Buster: Fuck Buster: Tell me we can't Rio: Can't now Rio: for real Rio: but I can't say never Rio: it feels as shit as it sounds Buster: I know Buster: That's all I'm sorry for, like Rio: I tried Rio: but it just fucked everything else up too Buster: you and me both, babe Rio: Jesus Rio: what's wrong with us Buster: Nothing I wanna fix Rio: Seriously? Buster: I want you Rio: I know Rio: it made me mental Rio: and that's only the shit i saw, never mind all the stuff i could imagine, and couldn't stop myself from Buster: Good Buster: 'Cause you gave me nothing to go on Rio: Not good Rio: I could fill you in if that's what you want Buster: Is it gonna be worse than what's in my head? Rio: Safe to assume if it was I wouldn't be in your inbox now, would I Buster: No telling with you Rio: Charming Buster: Well, can't be, can I Buster: Not now Rio: I got this far resisting you, sure I can manage a few more days Buster: You reckon? Rio: No but you know Rio: if I ain't got a choice I ain't got one Buster: You could race Chlo to my door Rio: You'd love that, twat Rio: though doubt she's gonna be fast in those heels Buster: How pissed is she? Not gonna love that, am I Rio: Completely white girl wasted Buster: 'Course Buster: Come over a few minutes after she gets here then Rio: We can't do that Buster: I know but I really wish I was being serious Rio: Same Rio: Just have to see you around, like Buster: I'll call you when she gets mad enough at me to go Rio: Sounds like a plan Rio: She's determined but you're annoying as fuck so Buster: Fuck off Buster: You love it Rio: For my sins Rio: I give Chlo 3 days tops Rio: she's fake and we know it Buster: I'll get her to leave tomorrow Buster: You'll see Rio: You talk a big game, babe Buster: If it was all talk I wouldn't be saying it Buster: The proof'll come Buster: I'm determined too Rio: You're cute Buster: You won't be saying that when I'm right Buster: Then I'll be hot as fuck Rio: to yourself or me, like? Buster: Hilarious Rio: You know I got jokes Rio: and you know you're always hot as fuck to me too Buster: Tell me what else you've got for me Rio: Only all of me and whatever you want Buster: I'll take that Rio: Good Rio: not got the holiday home and yacht perks like your usual, soz like Buster: Shut up Buster: You know I don't care about any of that Rio: Giving you some credit, like Rio: Dunno what else you're seeing in 'em Buster: You really wanna talk about them? Rio: Not my first choice but as discussed Rio: not yet Buster: It's easy that's all Rio: You don't need to explain yourself Rio: I'm just jealous Buster: I'm just saying you don't need to be Rio: Not now I know you feel it too Buster: Did you actually think I didn't? Rio: I don't know Rio: Maybe Rio: I told you, couldn't stop thinking all kinds of shit Buster: Idiot Rio: Shut up Rio: said in this very convo that you won't fuck me anymore Buster: And you said you saw through my bullshit Rio: You know, being cocky is your thing Rio: but honestly, always said it, headfuck, yeah? Hardly been here before Rio: don't know what I'm doing or feeling half the time Rio: except I want you, that's all I know Buster: That's all I need you know Buster: It's alright Rio: Yeah? Rio: Good then Buster: It'd be better if you were coming here instead of Chlo Buster: Not to speak of the devil 'cause fuck knows when she'll appear Rio: She did stumble out a while ago so Rio: probably soon, assuming she ain't fallen in the river Buster: I ain't that lucky Buster: Had my share for tonight anyway, like Rio: I won't tell anyone you said that Rio: nothing but god given 🍀 Buster: Cheers Rio: People you don't wanna see are like buses forreal and the 2nd just showed up eurgh Rio: Don't get the wrong idea, Chlo, not following you out but I gotta dash Buster: Who's got you running? Rio: Just someone I owe a second date Buster: Where are you gonna go? Rio: Onto the next bar and hope I ain't been spotted Rio: though no one wants to leave so I'm gonna have to make new friends, cheers lads Buster: You could always come here Buster: Have a drink with me instead of for me Buster: And celebrate Chlo's impending departure Rio: Hmm Rio: How much space can you feasibly put between you and me, whilst still serving me a drink? Rio: 'Cos I don't trust myself at all Buster: Try me Rio: Alright, Tom Cruise 🍸 Rio: no need to try to impress me i'm there Buster: Yeah? Rio: Yeah Rio: Can always just go down on you Rio: Stealth mode Buster: Good to know you've got a plan Rio: Always thinking, babe Buster: Can't deny that I ain't Rio: Then you'll owe me for missed time and then some Buster: Fine Rio: Seal the deal when I get there, like Buster: Promise Rio: Promise Buster: How soon can you be here Rio: Gotta give Chlo time to get in and leave you alone, so you tell me Buster: Just come now Buster: I wanna see you before I have to her Rio: How we gonna explain that one? Rio: Unless you want me to hide Buster: She won't remember Rio: I think she will Rio: Stalker of the highest order Rio: shocked she even knew who I was Buster: You've got a point Buster: Fuck's sake Rio: I know, babe Buster: [An annoying amount of time later] Buster: Okay Rio: Persistent bitch Buster: I don't wanna talk about her any more Rio: We don't have to talk at all Buster: You reckon? Buster: When have you ever stayed that quiet Rio: Sounds like you missed me and all my talk Buster: Yeah Buster: I wanna hear everything you've got to say to me Rio: Okay, work on my whisper Buster: Not that you're gonna have long 'cause you're gonna hurry up, yeah? Rio: Duh Rio: Wish I could say the blue dress has made an reappearance alas Buster: I don't care Rio: Trust, gonna make sure you don't care about anything but what my mouth is doing Buster: Christ Rio: I missed you so much Buster: I can't wait to show you how much I missed you too

[zoadgo]

41 JONTY

41. ghost/living person au

Everyone knows that unfinished business is what keeps ghosts around. People getting away wit their murder, the place they died getting defiled, that sort of stuff. But what you don’t find out when you’re still among the living, is that the ghosts themselves have no fucking clue why they’re still there. They just sort of... are.

Jasper wishes he could find out why he’s still hanging around, even after deliberately kicking his own bucket. Maybe its his penance, but he had thought he’d served that simply by living as long as he did before blowing his brains out. No, Jasper is firmly convinced that he doesn’t deserve this, to continue hanging around the life that had driven him so far into darkness, seeing everyone doing so well without him. No one deserves this.

Well, perhaps not everyone is doing so well. Jasper continually finds himself drawn to one person in particular, and he’s not surprised. His best friend, the person who gave him every benefit of the doubt he could, wandering through his days as if he’s just barely holding on. He keeps revisiting Jasper’s old rooms, since relegated to storage, and Jasper wants to tell him to stay away. It doesn’t help to dwell on the past, and Monty could be so much happier if he just let himself be. Everyone else didn’t seem to have an issue with it, so why was Monty having such a hard time?

This time, Monty brings moonshine. Premium stuff, if the judgement of a ghost who couldn’t interact with it could be trusted. Jasper sighs and hovers near a wall as Monty sits facing the reddish stains on the metal, carefully setting out two cups and pouring a healthy shot in each. Oh a whim, Jasper takes the seat opposite him, the last place he had ever been when alive.

“To you, Jasper,” Monty toasts the air, and Jasper mimics the motion as he knocks back his shot, grimacing briefly before setting the cup down and refilling it.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself, buddy,” Jasper chides, knowing full well that Monty will never hear him. 

“I’m sorry.” Is Monty’s next toast, and it feels enough like a conversation that Jasper decides to roll with it.

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t pull the trigger.” It turns out his flippant disregard for life hadn’t died along with his body. Jasper still just couldn’t find it in him to care about his own death, but he did care that Monty was clearly taking steps down the same road he did.

Monty’s next three toasts are silent and rapid, and Jasper cringes at the trickle of alcohol on Monty’s chin. He didn’t feel guilty about killing himself, but this... This isn’t right. Monty was never supposed to end up like this, certainly not because of Jasper.

“God dammit, why’d you have to do it?” Monty glares at his own hand, clenching around the cup of moonshine, and Jasper recoils from the anger. He knows Monty can’t see him or hear him, but he suddenly wishes he could. Wishes that he could explain to Monty that it wasn’t his fault.

He tries anyway, “I just couldn’t go on, it... It was my only choice.”

“Weren’t we enough?” Monty accuses through gritted teeth, “Wasn’t I enough?”

“It wasn’t about you, Monty, I...” Jasper trails off, not finding the words he needs for himself, let alone those he needs for Monty. He’s talking to the void as much as his friend is, and he hangs his head, looking at the floor beneath him. He wonders if they’ll ever be able to get the stain of his death out of the room, if someone might one day blame it away on rust or re-entry damage as they go about their day to day life.

“And now you can’t even look at me. Asshole.”

Jasper’s head whips up, and Monty is looking at him. Not at the space where he is, but at him. If he still had a heart, it would have skipped a beat.

“Y-you can see me?”

“Of course I can. You’re not real, obviously, but it doesn’t mean I can’t see you.”

“How?” Jasper asks.

“Maybe I’ve got some stuff to sort out, who knows how the brain works with hallucinations.” Monty drops his gaze back to the floor beneath him, and Jasper’s heart sinks. Of course he thinks he’s a hallucination, it makes a lot more sense than ghost.

“Jasper, I-” Monty frowns and closes his eyes, “I’m not ever going to feel about anyone the way I felt about you. That wasn’t enough for you?”

Jasper is at a loss for words for a moment, before coming up with the woefully inadequate, “I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

“You... loved me?” Jasper is confused to his core. Monty had been his only true friend, there for him through thick and thin, and he’d never even considered it might have been more than friendship. He’d never even entertained the possibility that they could have something more, it just wasn’t an option for him. But, thinking back on it, didn’t they share more with each other than they had with any girl? They may have ha their girlfriends, but at the end of the day, they always had each other. And now... Now Monty wouldn’t have anyone.

“Of course I did.” Monty knocks back another shot with a grimace, and Jasper reaches out to stop him, but the cup passes through his hand as air. Monty simply raises a brow at the gestures and pours himself another shot.

“Monty, please,” Jasper implores, tallying the amount of moonshine Monty had drunk and finding it worrying, “you can’t keep doing this. Coming here, mourning me, all of it.”

“Why not? What say do you get? You’re the one who left in the first place.” Monty’s voice is full of raw pain, and Jasper realizes that maybe this was his unfinished business. The pain he had left behind in the better half of him, in his truest companion who had always been the smarter, kinder one. 

“I didn’t-” He begins with excuses before stopping himself. Jasper frowns and lays a hand over Monty’s on the cups, hovering it just above. He can’t feel anything, but he supposes appearances count for something. “I’m sorry. It’s too late for me, but you don’t have to go down that road.”

“I’m alone, Jasper. Everyone’s here for me, but everyone who mattered is gone. How am I supposed to carry on?”

“I don’t know, you were always the smart one out of the two of us. You’ll figure it out.” Jasper smiles, and Monty looks up at him again with tears in his eyes, and Jasper wonders how he never realized it before. He mulls the words over in his mind for a moment and finds them to be true before saying them. “I love you.”

“Jasper...”Monty trails off, tears streaming down his face, and Jasper can only pray that this time, he’ll get up after crying and things will be different. Brighter. If anyone deserves that, it’s Monty.

As Monty sobs, alone in the room where Jasper killed himself, moonshine heavy on his breath, Jasper feels his grip on the world slip. He can see Monty’s hand through his own, and the sounds of his friend- of his soulmate’s distress become distant. He doesn’t know what he’s moving towards, and for the first time since he died, he wishes he wouldn’t move on. But his business, such as the universe deemed it, was completed, and Jasper fades from the world without anyone realizing he had hung around to begin with. Except for one person, who wakes in the morning with a wicked hangover and words ringing in his ears that help him to pick himself up and carry on.

I love you.