#christ alive the situations this band puts me into

[carcarrot]

ready to fight for my life for tectecs merch today

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 328: Pandora’s Box of Discourse

Previously on BnHA: DEKU TOOK A BATH.

Today on BnHA: 

Also Naomasa grew a beard. Goddamn. 

please let this be a cool chapter that plays nice with my ADHD lol

(ETA: lol I feel guilty because a lot of people hated this chapter, but I’m just happy there was a lot of stuff to make fun of, and also that I have another week to work on my backlog of meta posts since the kids were MIA.)

around one month ago?? ah, okay, so we’re gonna find out what was in that Tartarus security file huh

I love that they just randomly set the place on fire

was it necessary to do this in order to escape? no. was it a good idea to set the island they were occupying on fire while they were in the midst of still occupying it? uh. was it cinematic as fuck? fuck yeah

wow it’s a pervert!!

that’s so great that the villains set loose this fine fellow who I’m sure is definitely not a serial rapist. truly the LoV is so noble and misunderstood. they’re just trying to free society from its chains people

oh my god??!

SHANKED!!! oh my god I cheered for Stain before I realized what I was doing. time to have an identity crisis I guess

so he’s all “hey what’s going on.” which, while a respectable question, is something I personally would have waited to ask until I had put a bit of distance between myself and the fiery murder island. but that’s just my personal preference

Stain you really are tenacious I’ll give you that

“what’s the point of escaping prison if you’re not gonna be smart about it” well shit. anyways yeah you’re dead right, society is in the process of collapsing and the outside world is in total chaos, good call there

oh shit

I mean it’s not like we really expecting anything otherwise, but still. fucking brutal. I feel like these guys’ fates were decided the minute that one guy called AFO “scum” back in chapter 94. AFO is unmatched at getting long-term revenge

??

ahh, was it the security footage??

fdsdfk he’s still alive??

and he’s immediately launching into an inappropriately theatrical monologue even as the darkness closes in on him fdlfksjdlk. you know, was it ever confirmed that the other guy back in chapter 297 was Seiji’s dad? I’m just saying

very impressed that he’s still coherent enough to weigh the pros and cons before making the decision to gamble on giving this info to Stain, who at the very least has his own moral code and isn’t allied with AFO. it was definitely still a risk, but as we now know it was also the right call

what a weird alliance. so Stain tells him that he’ll give it to a just person, and the guy is all,

okay for real though I’m gonna need someone to run a DNA test on this guy. maybe it was some kind of cuckold situation?? the other guy had the family resemblance, but this guy absolutely 100% raised Shishikura Seiji and you are not going to convince me otherwise

anyway, so Stain is all,

PRISON GUARD: “???? ??????? what the hell. what the fuck does that fucking mean. I’m dying here, jesus christ, whatever man fuck you”

(ETA: I kind of feel like this might have been Stain’s last appearance in the manga, given all the fanfare. there’s not really much else he can do for the story at this point, and he seems to have gotten all the character development Horikoshi was planning on giving him. so if this really is it, hasta la vista and good riddance I guess.)

DWLFDKSLDK MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE

(ETA: I feel like this is meant to be evocative of that Sermon on the Mount painting, but in a really fucked up way lol.)

if it were me stumbling upon this scene I would just shake my head and walk right back into the flaming building. not getting involved in that mess. sorry not sorry. I’ll take my chances with the fire, especially given that it’s half-assed neutered BnHA fire lol

blah blah blah and so he decided to pass the info on to All Might -- HOT DAMN, HOLY SHIT

NAOMASA HOLY SHIT. THE APOCALYPSE LOOKS GOOD ON YOU, BOY

“I really like that facial scruff thing Aizawa’s got going on, I think I’m gonna get in on that” yes sir. “also thinking of ditching the tie in favor of the bulletproof vest look. also thinking of getting totally fucking jacked.” good lord. except I’m pretty sure that’s just body armor, but also I don’t care. anyway I should probably stop staring and actually read the fucking speech bubbles here lol

“All Might first handed this information over to Nao, and then went to see Deku, and then came back to Nao” thanks for that tidy little summary Horikoshi. we are capable of piecing events together in sequential order, I just want you to know that. but thank you

“so has Deku finally gotten a bath? also, sucks that Stain saved the day, but what are you gonna do” Nao I missed you so fucking much and didn’t even realize. how am I just now realizing that you are the perfect man

for a second I was gonna ask why Tartarus’s security systems would be cut off from the outside world, and then I remembered that’s a basic security control, and then I actually got impressed by how sensible that is. like, it’s been a while since I could genuinely say that the good guys (excluding class 1-A) did something smart. not that it helped them much in the end, but still

anyway so they’re talking about how AFO was able to coordinate the attack by communicating between his horcrux self on the outside and his ugly peanut-faced self on the inside

huh

okay you have my attention. I am taking notes here lol please continue

ah okay so he says that prior to Jakku, the transfer of information between him and his Vestige self was only one-way. but post-Jakku when Deku was in the hospital, he was able to tell what was happening inside the OFA Radical Lisa Frank Dead People Book Club Realm when he touched him. I feel like we established that before, actually. but he didn’t talk about how it actually felt, though

boy we already know this lol. yes AFO can talk with his horcrux self. and he can also communicate with his little bro in OFA too, let’s talk about that sometime why don’t we. what exactly does that imply, based on the rules we’ve established here

my god I cannot get over Naomasa and his fucking facial hair

no wonder All Might was in such a hurry to leave Deku and get back here

like I have no idea what this radio waves nonsense is but my god, people

that jawline. also so it’s a quirk, I see. except last I checked Deku didn’t have a radio waves quirk, so that doesn’t really explain his connection to AFO. but whatever, hopefully we’re at least getting closer to some kind of reveal here

(ETA: since I sometimes forget that other people’s lives don’t revolve around my theory posts, here are the two relevant links if you by chance want to know my thoughts about this.

Hagakure is still The U.A. Traitor™ regardless of whether Deku is passing information on to AFO through his psychic link, which he almost certainly is.

speaking of said psychic link, Deku is a horcrux.

just posting these now, because whenever trippy OFA stuff happens I tend to get an influx of theory asks. so hopefully this will be a bit of a time saver lol.)

-- wait, what

THAT’S what the recording was??!? holy SHIT. I genuinely was not expecting that. y’all wiretapped his fucking telepathy. fucking quirks, man. wild

AND THEY USED THAT POWER TO DETERMINE WHAT WE ALREADY KNEW, HUZZAH. GOOD SHOW

-- oh shit wait lol, except I forgot we’re not talking about 38 days from the present, we’re talking about 38 days from the date the conversation was recorded. heh. um

yeah that’s the face I would make too if All Fucking Might just casually told me we had eight days left until the end times

oh, pardon me. three fucking days

r.i.p. anyone who thought we were going to have another band arc sob. I sure hope Deku is enjoying that nap

(ETA: I realize people were hoping for a longer rest period here, but given that the man warned us all the way back in chapter 306 that we were entering the final act, you can’t really blame him too much when that turns out to be true. anyway but I do recognize that we’ve reached the point in the story where this kind of discourse is going to become a weekly occurrence, simply because there’s no possible way for Horikoshi’s actual endgame to line up perfectly with the variable headcanons of millions of fans, all of whom have wildly differing and in many cases contradictory expectations which can’t possibly all be fulfilled. anyway, so I’m already bracing myself for that lol. this coming year is going to be a wild ride.)

damn, U.A. out here looking like the motherfucking United Nations

-- is this U.A.?? I actually just realized, U.A. is four interconnected buildings, not two. wait holy shit is this Shiketsu?

wait holy SHIT

based on the overwhelmingly powerful vibes of bureaucratic incompetence, I’m thinking this really is the (future) U.N., or whatever organization it is that deals with international hero stuff

“just let them handle it themselves I’m sure they’ll be fine” yeah okay, thanks guys. appreciate it

wait oh shit did he say that it’s not just Japan?

soooo, what you’re telling me is that AFO is this close to bringing about the end of not just Japan, but the entire world, and you guys don’t think it’s a good idea to help the Japanese heroes stop him? so, genuine follow-up question: are you guys already planning your rich people exodus into space a la Wall-E, and that’s why you don’t give a fuck?? like, what??

omg international heroes

these guys are from World Hoodie Mission, right? is this Horikoshi’s way of reminding me to buy tickets

(ETA: and it worked too lol.)

WHO??? WHAT???

don’t tell me you’re introducing yet another badass new female character for me to fall in love with only to watch as you dismember them and/or blow them up, Horikoshi. I’m getting tired of playing this game my dude. don’t lie and tell me this time will be different. we’re not doing this again goddammit

noooooooooooooooooooo

god fucking dammit lmao. [sighs and rips the previous paragraph into shreds]

on behalf of Americans I apologize for our superheroes always being Like This

I also apologize because I love her already and I’m gonna be shameless about it. so fucking shameless you guys

is her fucking hair red white and blue. it is, isn’t it

this is the volume cliffhanger, 100% lol. it will take every ounce of Horikoshi’s willpower not to put her on the volume cover. he’ll have to settle for the spine or the inner cover this time because Deku VS his class 1-a superpals takes precedence. but it will be a close thing let me tell you

tbh it’s that smile that does it for me. she’s definitely All Might’s protege. get out there and show them how it’s done girl. and maybe call Salaam and BRD and see if you can’t convince them to play hooky from their governments as well. why not. world’s ending in three days you guys. “sorry, I’m busy this weekend” ain’t gonna cut it lol

so while I am not fully caught up with Vigilantes, I have read far enough to know that there’s an American hero named Captain Celebrity whose superpower from what I recall is being a humongous douchebag. and while I haven’t read far enough to know what happens to this guy, I can’t say I’m very disappointed to learn that he’s no longer the number one hero in the U.S. (actually, didn’t they kick him out and that’s why he moved to Japan to begin with?). anyway, so my thanks to Horikoshi for having a marginally higher opinion of Americans than Furuhashi, even though we have definitely not done anything to warrant said opinion lately, and you may have inadvertently opened the door to a pandora’s box of discourse lmao

(ETA: lol I went into the tags and they don’t disappoint. “why is she dressed like a flag” because she’s an homage to Captain America and Major Victory and literally every other character on this list. again, I apologize for fictional American superheroes being Like This. “oh boy another thicc waifu to make the fanboys happy” look, tumblr fandom never seems to have a problem thirsting over Dabi or Tomura or Aizawa or Nao, lol, I’m just saying. “where is Captain Celebrity” idk, probably murdered by the exploding bee cartel, let’s just be grateful for our good fortune and try not to Beetlejuice the man.)

anyway, so let’s see if Horikoshi’s recent character development with regards to making Mineta not terrible anymore will apply to other aspects of his writing as well. I know I was making light of discourse just now, but I do think the complaints about him introducing yet another new character at the 11th hour to be cannon fodder in the final battle are absolutely valid. and again, it wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t keep maiming/killing off his female characters one by one instead of developing them and letting them kick ass long-term. but that said, I will never complain about Horikoshi adding another female character to the series, regardless of how clumsy the attempt may be. go ahead and pander away, just give us more girl power lol

anyway so we’ll see how it goes, but I think I’m gonna be optimistic and let myself hope once again, even though I’m probably gonna regret it lol. it is what it is. she is standing on an airplane just chilling for fuck’s sake. I’m only human. anyway fingers crossed

[commonwealthoccurences]

Luck Runs Out

TW: Description of massive fighting, wound description (located on the throat), etc. Needles (Stimpak)

Hancock didn't know when a high-pitched ringing had settled into his ears, but it was shortly after gunshots began echoing off the buildings. Sole had gotten lost somewhere in the crowd of Minutemen making an attempt to hold back the raiders, as brave as ever, wanting to lead their people in what seemed to be totally senseless bloodshed.

The raiders had decided they were going to band together to take on Diamond City, which would be an intriguing plan, however their idea was held together with spit and wishful thinking at best, and soon after their so-called battle started, things descended into chaos. At some point their pact must’ve broken, because there were now raiders fighting each other along with Diamond City guards and the Minutemen.

The last time Hancock had seen Sole was when they began slipping through the crowd to reach Preston’s side as he fought off a group of raiders who had begun to pry his weapon from his hands. The chaos closed together behind them and Hancock lost sight right before he had to turn and defend his own people; Goodneighbor had agreed to help Diamond City if the latter agreed to negotiate on their stance with ghouls. Diamond City hadn’t really had a choice in the matter considering the looming threat and McDonough being gone.

It didn’t take long after the companions split off for everyone to still, a hush falling over the crowd as Hancock looked around for the source. Their attention seemed to be directed all to one place. He wove his way through his own citizens and was faced with a sight that made his heart drop straight out of his chest; Sole, held back by two raiders, with a knife to their throat.

There was no doubt that Sole had a high bounty on their head, dead or alive, for their work and status with the Minutemen and Goodneighbor. He swallowed harshly as he watched them struggle against the grip of the two raiders to no avail. Sole’s eyes scanned the crowd frantically before they locked gazes with him, and they seemed to calm slightly. Slowly and deliberately, they moved their gaze down to the gun that rested on one of the raider’s hips.

Thinking on your feet was a skill everyone needed to survive in the wasteland, and Hancock just so happened to be a professional. He stepped forward, breaking the line of spectators, causing the raiders to recoil and emphasize their grip on Sole, who rolled their eyes in response to the show the raiders were putting on. “Now, now, let’s not be hasty. You don’t need to harm them.” Hancock took another step forward, putting his hands in the air, on display.

“Yeah fuckin’ right, why do you think we’re here? To make friends? You hand Diamond City over to us and we’ll let your precious leader live, aight.” The raider to their right sneered, pressing the blade of his knife against their throat harder.

“Take a minute, breathe, and we can talk about this, okay?”

Hancock made sure to take his sweet time to shed all of his weapons, tugging knives and guns out of his boots and waistband and various folds of his outfit, ending up with a small pile of weaponry on the ground next to him. He stepped forward, away from it, slowly making his way to where Sole watched him intently, paying little mind to the danger they were in. They didn’t know what he planned on doing, but it couldn’t be good, much less safe for him.

Once he was within a couple feet, Hancock stopped. “We can negotiate, right?”

“And how do you think you’re gonna negotiate? You don’t even have what we want. You’re not exactly the mayor of Diamond City, are you now?” The arrogance in the raider’s tone was seriously starting to piss Hancock off.

“You’re right, I’m not.” Another step forward. “But you’ve got some… precious cargo in your hands right now, to say the least. Think of the bigger picture. What else is gonna prove useful that you can get if you hand them over, huh?”

The raider seemed to pause and mull this over, his grip loosening on Sole ever so slightly. They locked eyes once again with Hancock and nodded before jumping into action. He rushed forward, going for the raider’s gun at the same moment he did, and they fought to get a grip on it. Eventually, Hancock won, and raised the gun to the raider’s temple, pulling the trigger and bringing back a hand sticky with blood.

He turned and saw Sole struggling with the other raider, attempting to wrestle the knife from his hand before he could do some damage to them. With a lunge, the raider got his footing back and swiped the knife clumsily at Sole, who recoiled and lifted a hand to hold their throat. Blood slipped through their fingers as they leaned over, trying to find something in their pocket. Hancock took no time to rush forward and lift the pistol again, ending the smug look on the raider’s face with a twitch of his finger.

Chaos erupted once again as the crowd surged forward, guns firing and blades slashing in retaliation for what just happened. Hancock grabbed Sole’s waist and began tugging them towards the outskirts of the battle, looking for some sort of medical set up to treat their wound. “How bad is it?” He shouted over the deafening gunshots. “Sole, how bad is it?”

They didn’t respond, shaking their head as slightly as they could to minimize the pain. Blood trickled down their neck as they yanked their hand out of their pocket, bringing a small scrap of cloth with it, and returning their hand to their neck to staunch the wound. Minutemen closed in behind Hancock and the General, protecting them as they made their way out of the ruckus and towards a distant tent. 

Preston appeared by Sole’s other side, taking the cloth from their hands and applying proper pressure as they hurried out of the wreck. “It’s pretty much over. The raiders only went after the General as a last ditch effort; they didn’t have much else going for them. They were getting their asses kicked. Still are.” He hefted Sole’s weapon onto his back to lighten their load. “We can take care of everything from here. Just get them to safety, Mayor.” Preston nodded at Hancock before side-stepping away from the duo once the cloth was tied securely around Sole’s throat.

He hefted Sole into the tent and helped them shift their weight onto a nearby cot. The blood seemed to be slowing already, but it was better safe than sorry, and they had already done their part in the fight. Gently, he untied the cloth and pulled it away, cringing at the state of their neck. 

Hancock used what little parts of the cloth were clean to dab away the blood, doing his best to clean their throat. Sole was struggling to control their breathing; they knew hyperventilating was possibly the worst thing they could do, but considering what happened, they felt justified in their panic.  “Breathe.” Hancock’s voice was rough and low, but still warm and soothing. “Everything’s gonna be just fine, sweetheart.”

Sole nodded, forcing themself to pause and take deep breaths. A settler came forward and handed Hancock proper medical supplies, what little they could spare, and returned to the other injured Minutemen after assessing that their General would be fine eventually after a Stimpak. Hancock finally stopped the bleeding and huffed a sigh of relief, taking a moment to lean against the cot and absorb what had happened.

Afraid to speak, Sole simply placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, trying to reassure him that they were fine. He looked up at them and managed a grim smile. “You gave me a real scare there, sunshine. One of these days you're gonna be the death of me.”

Moving to stand upright, he picked up a clean roll of bandage and began winding it around their throat as gently as he could. He secured it with a piece of adhesive. Sole reached up to tilt his head up so they could look him in the eye, but paused; their hand was still coated in their own blood. Hancock looked down when they stopped and his breath caught in his throat. “Jesus fucking Christ, Sole.”

Something about the sight made the reality of the situation hit him full force. Any closer and Sole could’ve been one of the casualties they’d have to cart home. God knows how long the Minutemen would’ve lasted after they passed, much less how long he would’ve lasted. The thought made him shudder, bile climbing up his throat. 

There was a quiet rattling as Sole sifted through the medical supplies, finding some spare cloth to wipe their hands with. They were still stained red once they were done, but it was better than the congealing mess that had made Hancock recoil so harshly. They paused. Their hands were still shaking from their panic; there was no way they could properly apply a Stimpak.

Sole reached over and placed the Stimpak in Hancock’s hands, taking the cap over the needle off for him, and guided them forward towards their thigh. “Take a deep breath.” He instructed quietly before sinking the needle into the flesh of their thigh and pushing down on the plunger.

They groaned in pain as the medication set in. Stimpaks weren't the most pleasant experience but it was a small price to pay for what could potentially be the only thing that would save your life. Hancock stepped closer and guided them forward to rest their forehead against his shoulder, gripping their wrists so they wouldn’t reflexively attempt to pull the needle out of their skin. “You’re okay.” He reassured softly. “It’ll pass.”

Seconds ticked by like hours before Sole slumped forward and wrapped their arms around him, breathing a sigh of relief and relaxing as the effects set in. They’d probably be completely healed in a day or so, if not a few hours. “Thank you.” Their voice was croaky, barely there at all, in his ear as they turned to hide their face in his neck.

Hancock wrapped an arm around their back to hold them in place and pulled the Stimpak away, cringing at their pained exhale. “It’s over.” He moved to hold them, squeezing tighter than he probably should’ve, terrified if he let go something would go wrong.

“Uhm, General.” Preston’s hesitant voice cut through the silence.

Sole pulled away but kept one arm wrapped around Hancock’s shoulders. “How is everyone?” Their voice was still struggling, unsteady and cracking.

Preston couldn’t hide his flinch at their voice and how painful it sounded. “We’re ready to head inside Diamond City. Everything’s been taken care of. If you’re feeling better tomorrow I think everyone would appreciate some words from you about what happened.” He looked exhausted, emotionally and physically, and there was blood spattered against his face and clothes.

“Take care of yourself, Preston.”

He nodded, though his demeanor didn’t seem genuine. They all knew he’d be up till the wee hours of the morning, too selfless to take care of himself if others needed help. Sole would probably have to send someone to intervene later. “I’ll have the medics clear out to give you two a moment to recover.”

Sole and Hancock sat in silence as the world moved around them. Doctors packed up what little equipment they had left and prepared to cart their injured patients inside the walls of the green jewel. Once everyone had deserted the small tent, Sole turned to Hancock with a small smile. They opened their mouth to say something, but Hancock blurted out, “You could’ve died.”

They inhaled sharply, but nodded, their smile fading. “I can’t lose you.”

“Hancock-”

“You don’t understand. I can’t… I can’t lose you, Sole.”

“Hancock what are you saying?”

“Shit, I don’t know. What am I saying?”

He shifted off the cot and stood, scratching the back of his neck as he looked around the tent, seemingly searching for answers. “Hey, look at me.” Sole requested.

Hancock turned but struggled to meet their eyes. Sole reached for him and tugged on his overcoat gently, pulling him towards them. “You can tell me. What’s going on?”

Instead of speaking, Hancock turned his attention to the strands of hair that clung to their face.  He brushed it away from their eyes, smoothing his thumb over their cheekbone as he studied their worn out appearance. “Do you know how terrifying it is?” He asked quietly.

“What?”

“I think I love you. Nah, sunshine, I know it. That’s fucking scary.” He laughed at the way his voice shook.

Sole nodded slowly. “Yeah, it kinda is. But you know what? I know I love you, too.”

They gave him a soft smile and leaned against him again, resting their head on his chest. Hancock pressed a kiss to the top of their head and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. “You really are gonna be the death of me someday, you know?” The emotional whiplash was worth the quiet laugh they let out. Even more so when they pulled back and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, a wide grin on both of their faces.

[golbrocklovely]

i'm just gonna do an overall reaction to amber's new video with colby, bc i have so many thoughts lol

a lot of these are gonna be random and possibly all over the place, but i just want to say them so, ignore them if they don't make full sense.

colby talking about getting cancelled on twitter... too real.

idk why but his hair looked red-ish brown to me the whole video. it was really nice and all i want now if for him to dye his hair red again.

i love the fact that colby knows he's causing drama by doing these videos with amber. something about him knowing he's both pisses ppl off and getting them to talk about him is fucking hilarious to me. him saying 'you know we're gonna make a bunch of 13 year olds shit bricks' is one of the funniest things he said in the video. like at one point amber was saying 'sorry for the tiktok porn' and colby literally responded with 'you know they love it' and smirking?????

for a man that don't like drama, he definitely loves stirring the pot. and honestly... it's kinda hot.

also i just quickly realized that colby still has the banner up in his room from knj's video that says 'you are amazing' on it. that's really cute :)

so for the first tiktok, i love that amber weirdly has to teach colby to be domineering and sexy. like... this is the same man that apparently loves to be dominant in bed.

and i just realized that he never replaced the one earring that he took out on accident when he was taking off his shirt. he does know he could go to fucking claires and get matching black studs right??? this man spends MONEY on clothes, but can't buy matching earrings lmao

COLBY STOP STRAIGHTENING YOUR HAIR IT'S NOT 2007 ANYMORE AND WE LIKE IT WHEN IT'S CURLY GODDAMNIT

amber calling colby's dad daddy... im ded

second tiktok, loved it. no complaints. it was an adorable video highkey.

third tiktok.... i'm gonna be honest: i'm fucking dead after it. in the ground currently. no longer alive.

first question i have, why are his handcuffs so fucked up? like, how often you using them that the fluff is now coming off?? 👀👀👀 also, personally, if i was amber, i wouldn't touch those things with a ten foot pole unless they are sanitized to hell and back lmao

"WAIT WHERE ARE YOUR HANCUFFS?" "oh i think they're in here." colby don't lie you know they're in that drawer sksksks

so in the first half, them just goofing off and what not, that was so funny. i never realized how much it took to film those types of tiktoks and whatnot. or at least how serious they both take them.

the outtakes: i want to see them. i want to see colby (most likely) moaning while sliding down the wall """sexily""". i need that in my life right now plz and thx

now the second half... i just want to note that if i wasn't bisexual already, i would definitely be now.

you could tell that they could feel the sexual tension right before they filmed it. and like, i could as well. i was literally clutching my pillows bc i was getting nervous and anxious. when colby put the handcuffs on her, i was fucking losing it.

and idk if colby planned to do the pull her up by her chin thing, but when he did it, i about fucking astral projected.

AMBER TURNING THE VIDEO OFF SO FAST OMG

and then when they were filming after the tiktok, colby's face was so red !!! they were both so embarrassed at how sexual it was in that moment.

this whole situation (in my mind) proved that they are nothing more than friends. bc if they had been together in a sexual way before, they wouldn't be embarrassed to do something like that with each other.

regardless that at the end of the day it's none of our business, but still.

also possibly weird question but why does colby still have his retainer if he doesn't need it or wear it anymore?? like, he could have gotten rid of it at this point, i assume.

then when colby got offended at her saying these tiktoks were taking a long time (but not that she wasn't enjoying the time with him), his face change was so funny.

and the fourth one, i can't wait to see, i'm very curious what it's gonna be. i'm assuming something along the vain of the others, so probably sexual and fanbase craziness ensuing lol

random quotes:

'i'm coming🥺'

'mY eYeS dOn'T lIkE vItAmIn D vErY mUcH'

'i love vitamin d' 'of course you like the d'

'you know this about to be boob galore, right'

'are you ready? let me sit on your head.' 'ALRIGHT.'

'no harnesses, huh.' 'maybe not that. maybe we save that for another channel'

'should we do a belt?' 'yeah ;) WAIT WHERE ARE THE HANDCUFFS?!'

'you look like a teacher *clears throat* that's about to teach their students a lesson if you know what i'm saying' 'you wanna learn something?' 'yeah'

'if you wanna start it, i'll come out of the closet. *points at camera* dOn'T tAkE tHaT tHe WrOnG wAy'

'you gonna get my goddamn retainer in that shot? jesus chRIST'

'would you do this with another one of your fuCKING boyfriends on youtube?' 'never.' 'okay fine.'

'okay, how's that for bts?' 'bt-? oh ThAT's My FaVoRiTe BaNd'

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #389

“i’m well aware i’m a danger to myself  /  are you aware i’m a danger to others?”

How much do you weigh? Yeah, we're starting off on a bad foot. If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Putting Roman's used litter in the trash. Do you think you can love someone without trusting them? Hm... I guess you could love them, but it'd be a complicated situation. What’s your opinion on people who go hunting for sport? If it's purely for sport, from the very bottom of my heart, fuck you. Do you have a fairly fast or slow internet connection? I'd say it's decently fast. Have you ever been someplace tropical? Yeah, Florida. My grandma lived there. Are you sensitive to caffeine? No. It does like... nothing to me. How do you usually get around? My mom's car. Have you ever been accused of being too clingy? No actually, but I know I kinda am. What do you think about Kim Kardashian? I don't have an opinion of her. Can you speak any French? No. Favorite yogurt flavor? The only yogurt I've been liking lately is cookies and cream to add a different texture, because otherwise, I don't like its natural texture very much??? Idk man, my taste buds are wild. How much money do you have in your wallet right now? Just like $5. What bottled water brand do you like? Essentia. Your favorite way to eat chocolate? As chocolate bars, probably. How often do you listen to country music? Like, never. Linkin Park or Avenged Sevenfold? Linkin Park. Last surgery you had? Pilonidal cyst removal. Have you ever played guitar? I briefly took classes for it in high school, yes. Best I got to was playing some of the intro to "Crazy Train." I enjoyed it, but not enough to be consistent and really learn. Is there someone in your life whose career/life choices you find immoral/unethical? Have you ever told that person your views? Do you find it difficult to support them (emotionally or otherwise) because of their choices? I don't think so? What trait do you feel you lack that you wish you possessed? Independence and confidence would be nice... Have you ever considered writing your memoirs? No. Do you find it difficult to stay invested in online relationships? God no. I love my online friends. Half of 'em more than "irl" ones. Are you the type of person who pays close attention to the release dates of movies, music, etc., and will, for example, go see a movie or buy an album on the date it is released? If so, when is the last time you did so? I have to be VERY invested in it to care THAT much. It happened most recently when Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty premiered. Do you have any stickers on your laptop? No. Would you rather have a job for which you had to go in early in the morning or one you had to stay late into the evening at? Early in the morning. I'm in a better mood in the morning. Do you use any apps to track your health or medications? I have a calorie-counting app, as well as one to track my period. Whose opinions/recommendations do you value most? My mom's, best friend's, and psychiatrist's. If you could’ve been at any historical event, which would you have liked to witness firsthand? I don't really know. Maybe the very first Pride event? Is there something that you really want to do but are afraid of doing? If so, why are you afraid of doing it? Ride a rollercoaster, for one. I know I never will, though. I'm too afraid of throwing up, but even more realistically, I fear passing out before of the twisting and turning and just standing up makes me very dizzy. My blood pressure is STUPID low. What is something society “expects” you to do that you don’t want to do and/or don’t plan on doing? Have kids. That's a big 'ole fat no from me. Have Jehovah's Witnesses ever come to your door? Twice at least. Are you well-known by people in your area? No. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? No, thank Christ. It sounds terrifying. What's your favourite type of bird? Barn owls. Melanistic ones, to be exact. Stunning. What tv show(s) have you been watching currently? I'm only keeping up with Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Have you ever dated a smoker? For less than a day. Do you share a middle name with any of your siblings? Yes. Have you ever been a member in a band? No. Besides the school band. Can you cry on command? If so, have you ever used it to your advantage? No. Do you have separate emails for personal and business? No. Have you ever missed a flight? Yes. Have you ever seen a lunar eclipse? Multiple times. Have you ever taken a ride in a convertible? I think once with my brother. Why did you last need to use a band-aid? I'unno. What fruit do you eat most often? Apples. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? My ma. Has someone ever tried to start an argument with you over Facebook? What happened? A few times. I don't feel like thinking over this. Have you ever had an unusual type of milk (eg. oat, rice, almond)? I've tried almond milk, and I hated it. If you could experience life as a Disney princess for a week, which princess would you pick and why? uhhhhhh idk When you’re at home, do you spend most of your time in your room? I'm essentially always in my room. If you like to sleep in late, have your parents ever told you off for doing so? No. Do you find piercings attractive? Yep. Do you like potato chips? Loooove 'em. What’s the most stalker-like/creepy thing you’ve ever done? If you don’t think you’ve done anything like that, what’s the most stalker-like thing someone’s done to you? Nothing beyond checking Jason's Facebook sometimes after the breakup, I think. Even that though I wouldn't recommend doing. You're just going to get yourself hurt. Stay away from exes' profiles. Do you think it’s a double standard that a woman can hit a man and expect to get away with it, but if a man hits a woman it’s assault? Yep. I don't give a fuck what's in your pants, you don't hit anybody unless you're fighting to defend yourself. What’s your favorite old Disney movie and favorite new Disney movie? I mean... define "old." I'll go with The Lion King for old, and for new, uh... Finding Dory, probs. Name something “trendy” or popular that you dislike. I don't really know what IS trendy right now... Is Snapchat still "in?" Because I've never gotten that. “Dirty talk” in the bedroom…love it, like it, don’t care, dislike it, or hate it? I think I'm kinda neutral about it? Like I mean it also depends on exactly what is said. I prefer more loving talk, though. What is/are your favorite type(s) of ethnic food, and what’s your favorite food within that type? I'm a basic fatass that likes American cuisine most, aha... Like give me a cheeseburger and I'm happy lmao. How would you describe your relationship with your hair over the years? I love it more now at a short length than I ever did long. When it was long and I was in my deepest depression, I was awful about brushing it. It would get so knotted. Like looking back, it nearly makes me shiver. I HIGHLY recommend cutting your hair for anyone who struggles with selfcare. How do you feel about your SO daily/regularly checking up on a couple of his exes on social media? I'm single, but hypothetically, if you're checking an ex's page nearly every day, I would not be okay with that. I'm totally fine with exes remaining friends and just cordially talking now and again, but that's it. It's a respect thing. Do you prefer your guy to wear cologne or not? I personally like cologne if it's not overwhelming. I really don't care if you wear it or not, though. Ladies, how important is it to you that your SO wears/would wear a wedding ring? This survey is so heteronormative. But anyway, unless there was an issue like it not fitting, I'd want my spouse to wear their ring. What was the turning point that led you to decide for or against having children? There are a lot of reasons I don't want kids. I'm too selfish with my "me" time, I stress out too easily, I don't want to dedicate my life to keeping another person alive and fed and happy, I have bad genes... I could go on and on. I just wouldn't be a good, "present" enough mom. I am much more interested in ensuring *I* am okay. Is having your “dream” wedding really that important to have? Not at all. I mean I want a smooth and memorable wedding, but I'm not obsessed with it being perfect. Do you consider it cheating if your SO goes to a strip club and then doesn’t tell you? That's certainly not cheating, but I wouldn't like it. Being secretive about anything in a relationship is unhealthy, imo. I'd be hurt and also very insecure because I wouldn't feel like "enough." How old is too old for trick-or-treating? Honestly? I don't think you ever are. Like come on, does it REALLY matter? Let people have fun. I don't do it because of societal standards, but I would if I didn't care about being judged. Do you sleep with your arms over or under the covers? It depends on the temperature, but I normally wake up with them under. Do you own any t-shirts of your favorite band? I have an Ozzy one stored somewhere, but it doesn't fit me now. There was another I really liked too, but that one is WAY too small now. Fries or onion rings? Fries. I'm not a fan of onion rings. True/False: you’ve had an odd dream this week. Story of my life. I had one last night where I kept dying in different ways, and I actually felt the pain, like drowning in magma. Do you find tattoo sleeves attractive? YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Do you like carving pumpkins? Yeah. What’s an animal you want to have as a pet but can’t? My mom has absolutely forbidden me to get a tarantula (uh, many tarantulas in my case) until I move out, lol. That doesn't stop me from checking Craigslist like every day. ;_; Have your parents ever caught you drinking? "Caught," no. Any time I've drunk, I've had permission or was a legal adult by then. How would you react if your celebrity crush came to your door? First be humiliated at my appearance and then absolutely pass out lmao. Has your mom/dad ever walked in on you kissing or anything more with someone? No, thank fuck. The person you have a crush on is drunk and goes to kiss you, you know they don’t realize what they’re doing, but do you kiss anyways? If I know it's something they wouldn't do sober, absolutely not. What would you prefer to get from a guy/girl: flowers, a hand written poem, a picture he drew of you or a nice night out? Any would be lovely, but the poem would appeal most to me because of the amount of thought that goes into poetry. Do you any shirts with any kind of images of food on them? What? I don't think so, no. Which holiday is the most fun to decorate for? Halloween. What was the first website you had an email account on? Yahoo. Have you ever written a fanfic? No. Tattoos or piercings? Both are grand, but tats win. What’s the last gross movie/show/video you saw? I saw this picture of a snake split open that had eaten another snake. Would you rather live in a huuuge house or a little cozy one? Lil cozy one! I don't want more space than is needed for cleaning reasons, as well as price. Do you have a tutor for anything? No. Who’s the best kisser you know? Jason was. Has anyone ever threatened you with a knife? No. I'd like it to stay that way. (If you’re a girl) Has anyone ever called you "shortie" instead of girl? Ew, no. Do you have a deep voice? For a woman, yes. Do you play games with boys/girls, like 'hard to get’? Hi, I'm an adult. Is there a Sonic where you live? YES. It's my fave fast-food place. What do you like on your pizza? I have three go-tos depending on my mood: Pepperoni, jalapenos, or meat lovers.

[artificialqueens]

Not A Ghost, You're In My Head (Your Move 3/3) (Branjie) - Ortega

a/n: this has had about fifty billion potential titles, but rest assured that finally this is Your Move 3, only a year and a bit late. i really hope u all enjoy the end of the saga, and sorry and thank u to those who have been so patient! i’ll shut up now bc quite frankly uv all waited long enough for this. (title’s from Forever by Charli XCX pls listen to it it’s such a Branjie song)

fic summary: “Everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t.”

***

The smell of coffee and the warmth of the cafe inside hits Brooke like a ton of bricks as she walks in, blinks a little, and scans the room to find a seat. Eventually her eyes settle on a small booth through the back, away from the clatter and hiss of the coffee machines and probably the closest thing to quiet that they’ll get in a public setting like this. Sliding into it, Brooke shrugs her jacket off, lifts up a menu, puts it down again, drums her nails against the tabletop and takes her phone out. She checks the time, then checks her reflection in her phone’s camera. Briefly she finds it crossing her mind that she’s probably put more effort into her outfit, hair and makeup today than she had for their first date. What had she worn for their first date again? She can’t remember. She supposes it doesn’t matter now.

Putting her phone down, Brooke digs her toes into the soles of her shoes and takes one deep breath that she intends to be calming. Instead it leaves her feeling as if she is trapped under a sheet of ice with a millimetre of air to work with before she sinks underwater. Part of her feels as if she is already sinking. The other part of her feels as if she sank a month-and-a-bit ago and here she is, sitting waiting in a cafe, a living shipwreck. Sometimes her ribs feel like huge, cracked planks of wood, an empty vessel where something once lived. Sometimes it feels as if her heart is a sail, a huge mast broken in two with two long, ragged dagger marks scarring the sheet and rendering it useless. Other times she feels like a huge, heavy propellor is cutting into her stomach and churning it up, though that’s mainly when she makes the mistake of scanning social media (and isn’t madness doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?)

Today, Brooke just feels hollow.

Suddenly her phone buzzes harshly against the table and Brooke’s heart involuntarily leaps as she picks it up, an aftershock of the past seven months that will eventually dissipate with time. At least, she hopes so.

V: i can’t do this today

V: i’m sorry

Brooke feels as if an elastic band inside her has suddenly snapped. She doesn’t know if she feels relieved or if she wants to cry. Feeling a blush prickle against her cheeks and a lump form in her throat, her body seems to make the decision for her.

B: It’s okay don’t worry. Another time x

What does she expect? Brooke isn’t supposed to be the heartbroken one, Brooke isn’t meant to be the one that is sitting crying at a coffee shop table as if she’s the one that’s been broken up with. She wipes below her eyes and dabs lightly at her lashes with her fingers before pulling her jacket back on and walking quickly back through the door of the cafe she’d stepped through not even five minutes ago.

They’ll try again when she’s ready.

***

Brooke sinks on top of her bed, letting out a huge, deep breath of air until her stomach feels as if it is concave. It had been Vanessa that was the cautious one, it had always been Brooke making the big decisions about their relationship- a fact that, she cruelly reminds herself, remained true til its very end. She blinks very slowly. Her eyelids are so fucking heavy and tired. She took the morning off work to accommodate her plans and now she has nothing to do. Sitting and staring at the ceiling until her eyes burn is a nice impromptu plan.  

Her phone suddenly hums in the silence of the room. As if she’s been shocked by jump leads, Brooke spins over on her bed and grabs her phone from her bedside table, her heart hammering at an unhealthy rate. She feels the disappointment sink through her whole body when she sees the name on the screen.

“Hey.”

“Hey, boo. Calling to see how you were, but your tone kind of says it all for me.”

Brooke rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. Vanessa never showed.”

“I know. She phoned me.”

The cardiac arrest is back, alive and unwell in Brooke’s ribcage. “What did she say?”

“That she felt like an ass. I asked her what donkeys had to do with anything.”

Brooke shakes her head and laughs in spite of herself. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“I know. How are you doing?”

Brooke frowns deeply. “What, that’s all you said? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

A sigh comes from the end of the line. “Brooke, maybe you have to let her go.”

“No, come on, Yves, that’s not fair. Don’t talk to me like I’m obsessed and still clinging on because that’s not…it’s more complicated than that.”

“I mean. It was you that ended things.”

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” Brooke sighs, her heart feeling sick and empty.

“Look, just give her some time. You can’t just expect everything to go back to the way things were. Because…” her friend pauses on the end of the line, as if she’s about to deliver something Brooke won’t want to hear. “…well. Things might not.”

“I thought you were phoning to cheer me up,” Brooke says, deadpan. Yvie has the audacity to laugh.

“No, sorry, sorry. I just…you know. Best friends tell you shit you don’t want to hear sometimes. That’s part of the contract I signed back in high school,” Yvie’s affectionate warm laugh comes down the phone and Brooke finds herself smiling. It’s impossible to stay mad at Yvie; she may look fierce on the outside but Brooke knows she’s secretly a Care Bear brought to life via magic spell. Brooke is sincerely happy they’ve been friends for so long. They’ve helped each other and been there for each other through a lot, of course, through situations that are arguably worse than this, but Brooke is glad she has Yvie during this absolutely shit time. Vanessa had loved Yvie too when she’d met all of Brooke’s friends. Sure, she’d got along with Plastique and Nina and had eventually warmed to Bianca (although that had been a struggle after some of Bianca’s snide comments), but Yvie had welcomed her into Brooke’s life with open arms and had treated her as if they had been friends all their lives too. Brooke knows Yvie still speaks to Vanessa just to check in on her. She doesn’t mind.

“Do you wanna go for drinks tonight? Or food, if you feel like drinks will descend into stuff you’ll regret,” Yvie continues down the phone. Brooke exhales slowly.

“…Honestly Yves, it’s fine.”

“I’ll come to the apartment then. I just don’t want you wallowing. Wallowing’s for hippos. You’re not a hippo. You’re a…graceful crane.”

“You’re drunk already.”

“Maybe I am, and what the fuck of it? Right, I’m coming over tonight with lasagne in a tinfoil tray. Preheat your oven now. I’ll be round at 7. Love you, bye.”

“Bye. Love you too,” Brooke raises her eyebrows as she hangs up the phone. She remembers when she used to sign off like that all the time.

***

Brooke remembers those days of being in love with Vanessa, when the sex was passionate and gentle and full of fire and tenderness all at once. She remembers how it felt to look at her for as long as she wanted, taking in each glossy thread of hair, each small speckle of colour in her eyes, each individual and perfectly curled eyelash. Vanessa would always laugh at Brooke when she did that, telling her she was a creep, to stop staring at her. Now Brooke wishes she’d looked just a second longer, because she’s clearly not committed it all to memory.

She decides to go into the office. What else can she do? Yvie is annoying, but she’s right, Brooke can’t just sit and wallow. Or she could, but there’s case files that need updating and Brooke can either be sad at home lying in bed or sad at work doing something productive. Sad is the wrong emotion, she supposes. Empty is maybe more accurate. She is past the point of sad. Sad had happened when they’d had that argument and Brooke had played her trump card, best card in the pack at the time. Now she knows it had been a tarot card in disguise, the fool, and Brooke hadn’t at all known what her future would hold. She still doesn’t.

She walks into her office, past people that used to fear her, respect her. Perhaps they still do, but Brooke can still see the glint of sympathy in their eyes, hear the note of pity their voices hold. Brooke says good morning to Nicky, her new secretary. She hasn’t fired her yet, probably won’t ever fire a secretary again no matter how horrendous they are. Vanessa never came back after that day and Brooke doesn’t blame her, but she hopes she’s found another job. Nicky, she supposes, isn’t horrendous. She’s efficient and calm and obedient. Brooke knows she’s attractive too, and for a moment she allows herself to wonder if there is a parallel universe where she’s sought out a relationship with Nicky instead. Maybe a bit of random fucking with a pretty girl could take her mind off everything. Brooke laughs to herself in her office. She’s clearly losing it.

Detox comes in around half an hour later. Brooke’s done no work, simply staring at an excel spreadsheet and feeling her eyes glaze over but being unable to work up the motivation needed to blink. Detox puts a cup of coffee down on her desk and Brooke lets out a laugh.

“Jesus Christ, D. I’m not dying.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Seen happier faces at a fucking wake,” Detox jibes softly, pushes the cup closer to Brooke. “How are you today?”

Brooke leans back in her chair, swears she catches the scent of Vanessa’s perfume. It is gone almost as quickly as it had appeared and all Brooke is left with is approximately 45,000 memories, none of which she wants. “I’m shit. But I think that might be my new normal, I’ve felt like shit for so long. So I guess shit is the new fine. Therefore I’m fine.”  

Detox exhales through her nose, the hint of a humoured smile playing on her lips. “The old you would be beating you up and taking your lunch money if she heard you talking like that.”

“Believe me, I’ve already beaten myself up enough.”

Detox gives a heavy sigh of frustration, shifts from one foot to the other. “You need to sort your shit out, Brooke.”

“What are you, my Mom?” Brooke snaps back, now as frustrated as her friend. She wants to be left alone to stew in her own lack of emotions. Detox doesn’t relent.

“Look, I’m gonna give you two choices. Number one, you accept that everything’s over with Vanessa, that you fucked it, that you’ve made your bed and now you need to lie in it. But from what I can see of how you’re acting just now, you don’t want to do that.”

“No, I’m not fucking doing that,” Brooke sighs, tearing her hands down her face and wishing Detox would leave.

“Second option is, you start a constant campaign of non-stop attempts to win V back. Flowers, texts, cards, we’re talking borderline Joe from You.”

“Of course you watch that trash.”

“But you get the point?” Detox persists, annoying incarnate. “Brooke, you can’t…you can’t go on living like this. It’s been over a month, it feels like I’ve lost this bitch that used to be my friend.”

Brooke supposes she has lost her sense of self. She goes through her days without showing a single emotion, instead preferring to let them all out in the courtroom, raining down upon witnesses relentlessly as if every case has been a personal experience. She’s won her past six in a row and she puts it down to the fact that she now focuses every single fibre of being that she possesses into her career and job and work and anything that doesn’t have to involve emotions whatsoever.

“Look, I’ll..I’ll think about it, alright?” Brooke waves her away, rubs her forehead long-sufferingly. The whole thing is annoying her, becoming less of a heartbreak and more of a headache.

Detox smiles and punches the air. “That’s my girl. Have a think. Right, I’ll leave you alone. See you later.”

Have a think. Brooke wants to laugh. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking since the day Vanessa left.

***

Brooke misses her.

She misses the way Vanessa just got her humour like no-one else did. When she’d have a client waiting for her and Vanessa would send her her first impression or opinion of them in advance, and then Brooke would have to hold in her laughter for the duration of her meeting because holy fuck yes, the woman’s hat did make her look like a bat and combined with her cloak it did make her look like the villain in a superhero movie.

She misses the way that Vanessa had sort-of-not-quite-not-officially moved in with her. Some of her clothes are still strewn around the apartment: a pair of black heels left by the door that she’d worn out to dinner with her, an emerald green lace underwear set that had fallen underneath the bed and Brooke had stuck in her washer-dryer, the cosy pyjamas that lived under one of Brooke’s pillows folded not-quite-neatly and covered in creases, and a white silk shirt that Vanessa had worn to work and Brooke had peeled off her when they’d arrived home, pressing kisses to her bare collarbones, chest and stomach. Vanessa used to crash her way through the apartment and often Brooke wondered if it was her mission to make as much noise as possible as she loaded the dishwasher, hoovered the living room, sang off-key in the shower. Brooke’s apartment has been so deathly quiet since she left, a funeral sort of quiet. Mournful and still and ghostly and cold.

Sometimes Brooke is sure she sees in black and white.

She remembers the day when they told each other they loved each other for the first time. There had been no ceremony, no grand gestures. In fact the pair of them were watching a film on Brooke’s couch- The Little Mermaid 2, Vanessa eager to force her love of Disney sequels onto her girlfriend. Brooke had looked away from the TV just for a moment, just to see Vanessa’s reaction to whatever was happening on screen, and when she lay her eyes on her she felt that familiar feeling of falling hit her like a wave all over again. It had happened quite a few times that fortnight or so, and the urge to tell her grew with every moment they shared together. Brooke watched her smile like a dork at the TV, the light in her eyes shining and the good in her heart visible just by looking at her. Brooke had laced their hands together, Vanessa taken by surprise and meeting her gaze with a funny sort of smile on her face. Her nose had crinkled up as she’d laughed at her.

“What?”

Brooke had pulled her close and kissed her without saying a word, trying to tell Vanessa without actually telling her anything. She was scared to say it first. She was scared to say it at all.

When Vanessa broke away, she gave Brooke a look that seemed to reach into her soul. Then she looked down at the blanket they’d thrown over them and gave a shy laugh.

“I wanna say something but I’m scared.”

Brooke still remembers the way her heart had beaten right out of her chest. If she tries she can still feel it.

“Say it. Say it, because I want to say it too.”

Vanessa had made eye contact again, her face nervous and hesitant, and Brooke wanted to kiss her fears away but that would have stopped her from saying what she wanted so desperately to hear.

“I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Almost as quickly as they’d said it they were pulling each other in, their lips meeting desperately as they melted into each other. And Brooke hadn’t taken her to bed and they hadn’t had passionate, lovestruck sex on the couch. They had sat and kissed on the sofa with the film playing in the background like teenagers, the feeling of being in love communicated without even having to say anything else.    

Brooke had finally understood why people in musicals randomly burst into song.

She wishes she had known the last time she’d said it to her would be the final time. She wishes she could say it to Vanessa again. It’s still true. She’s still in love with her. She had fallen so hard.

The trouble with falling is that she had to hit the concrete eventually.

***

Another day goes by and a new one begins. Nicky comes in at half past nine with Brooke’s coffee. Vanessa always used to have it sitting out for her when Brooke arrived, a little heart drawn in the foam with caramel syrup making the coffee too sweet, just like her. Brooke can forgive Nicky, though. She suffered through another sleepless night and she needs the coffee more than she needs a lot of things. Doing her makeup this morning had been like painting a corpse, and Brooke tries not to feel embarrassed as she takes in Nicky’s perfectly painted face in contrast to her own. She thanks her, takes the cup and assumes Nicky will leave.

“Ms. Hytes,” Nicky says, surprising her. She stands in front of her desk, her brow furrowed in concern. “You’re hurting.”

Brooke almost drops her coffee cup in surprise. In days of old she would’ve fired a secretary on the spot for having the audacity to address her in such a way, make such an assumption, but Brooke is tired. She can’t be bothered to deny it, it would take more energy than to simply admit it. She deals in facts, and it is a fact after all. “Yes, Nicky, I am.”

Nicky pouts a little sympathetically. There is a pause in which Brooke assumes she’ll leave. She doesn’t. Instead she speaks again. “Who was the girl that broke your heart?”

Brooke can only blink back at her, her eyelids heavy from lack of sleep. She could tell Nicky to go back to her desk, she supposes, to get on with her work. But she’s in a rare mood to talk about things, so Brooke cracks a small, indulgent smile. “And how do you know it was a girl?”

“Men can’t break hearts like women can,” Nicky says softly, philosophically. Brooke isn’t sure she’s right but she supposes she’s never had any experience with men to disprove the theory. She sighs, nodding.

“Yeah, it was a girl. Her name was Vanessa,” Brooke says, the name feeling too clunky and odd in her mouth where once it had felt like a prayer. “I guess she didn’t break my heart. I broke hers and then by proxy I broke my own. It was a stupid mistake, we had a fight and…things were said that I regret but she still won’t talk to me. And fair enough, why the fuck would she?”

Nicky nods slowly, wraps her arms around herself to give herself a hug. “I have the same. Uh, I am escaping a girl who broke my heart. But even though she hurt me, I still love her. How does that work?”

“Because emotions are stupid and they don’t work in a logical way,” Brooke shrugs instantly. She’s had a lot of time to think about the subject. Looking at Nicky, she can see the pain behind her eyes, the hurt behind the calm facade of her perfect makeup. “Who was your girl?”

Nicky smiles sadly, nostalgia getting the better of her. “She was named Jaida. She was a model, like I used to be. I don’t wish to talk about her much. It’s still sore."

"Yeah. It’s still sore for me too.”

“You say you broke Vanessa’s heart?” Nicky asks shyly. The words are like a stab through Brooke’s chest, confirming the whole thing, validating it. Brooke nods wordlessly. Nicky gives a small laugh. “Then probably she still loves you too. Like me for Jaida.”

Brooke laughs, disbelieving even though she’d be lying if she said Nicky’s words don’t strike even the tiniest bit of hope into her heart. “No, I think that ship has sailed, Nicky.”

Nicky raises her eyebrows, shrugs. “You should call her.”

“Tried that.”

“Well, call her again,” Nicky persists, her voice calm and relaxed despite her insisting. “I wait for my call from Jaida every day."

Brooke feels sad for the young girl. She’s clearly lived so much of her life already at such a young age- she’s from France, but her CV stated that she moved to America to work in the modelling industry, which clearly didn’t work out if she’s making coffee for Brooke. "You should go back into modelling. You’re wasted here.”

Nicky frowns. “I am a waste…of space?”

Brooke laughs at the misunderstanding, waving her hands and shaking her head in protest. It’s the first genuine laugh she’s had in a long time. “No, no, no, no, God no! Wrong expression. Um…you’re too good at modelling to be working as a secretary. You have too nice a face.”

Nicky blushes, making Brooke’s face hot too. She hopes her compliment didn’t come out wrong. Nicky is smiling again, the regret plain on her face. “I would love to, but I would risk meeting her again and I am not ready for that.”

Brooke’s face contorted. “But you want her to call you?”

Nicky sighs, scuffs her foot. “It’s different when you have her in front of you and she’s beautiful."

Brooke shrugs in agreement. "That’s fair enough.”

Nicky lingers, tilts her head thoughtfully. “Can I do anything to help, Ms. Hytes?”

The Parisian lilt to Nicky’s voice makes everything sound like a proposition, even though Brooke doesn’t think she means it. She knows that she could probably have Nicky in her bed by the end of the day if she wanted to- they’re both hurting and broken hearted and yearning to be needed and wanted again, and Nicky is gorgeous but it’s not Nicky she wants. Her porcelain skin just reminds Brooke of Vanessa’s in contrast, her neat blonde hair brushed carefully into its bun reminds her of how wild and loose Vanessa’s used to be, her blue eyes remind her of Vanessa’s dark ones. Brooke shakes her head, gives a tight smile of gratitude. “No, Nicky. Thank you for this, but I think we’d both better get back to work.”

Nicky smiles in agreement, giving a little nod as she exits Brooke’s office and takes a seat back at her desk. Brooke looks at her phone in its place on her desk, reaches out to take it. She scrolls to Vanessa’s name in her contacts and hovers her finger over it, millimetres separating her from potentially hearing her voice again.

She discards her phone onto her desk and opens an email.

***

They had been the best months of Brooke’s life. She couldn’t stop telling Vanessa how much she loved her once she’d started and Vanessa couldn’t seem to either. They were the worst kind of honeymoon phase couple, or perhaps the best. Detox had cooed over them like a mother hen and Brooke had let her guard down a bit at work. Well, a lot. She’d loved being able to show Vanessa off as her girlfriend, she’d loved being able to kiss her throughout the day, squeeze her hand as she showed a new client into her office. They would exchange ridiculously soppy emails during meetings. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Brooke has spent so long blaming the business trip, blaming Priyanka, blaming Vanessa, blaming her work, blaming the distance. It was none of them. It was her fault. She did all of it.

Brooke had flown out to Florida for the weekend. There was a conference that her law firm had to attend there, Detox was speaking. Brooke had been looking forward to it as she knew one of her old friends from her Law degree would be there. She hadn’t seen Priyanka in ages; she was still based in Canada and practising there, but they still texted and when they’d found out they were both going Brooke had been excited. Priyanka is one of those rare exes that’s still a friend, their breakup back in their early twenties being a mutual decision, and Brooke knows there’s no attraction there anymore.

But of course, Vanessa didn’t.

Brooke should’ve done more to reassure her, she knows this. If she looks back she can see how agitated Vanessa had been during the leadup to the conference for a full week- biting her perfectly manicured nails, a small frown on her face without her knowing, moments where she’d stare off into space. Vanessa knew about Priyanka (they’d both talked about their exes) but Brooke had told her it had been amicable and mutual. Besides, she told Vanessa how much she loved her every single day. It wasn’t as if Brooke had hidden the fact that Priyanka was going to be there that weekend, or shielded her phone when they’d been texting each other. She’d had nothing to hide.

Brooke almost wishes she had been more secretive now. Maybe it would’ve changed things.

The conference had been fun, even though Brooke now holds it in the same regard as the beginning of a horror movie, the calm before the cyclone. She’d phoned Vanessa when she had arrived, eager to reassure her but she could still hear the worry in her tone, the anxiety. Still, it hadn’t stopped her meeting up for drinks with Priyanka that evening in the hotel bar, laughing and chatting like they’d always used to and doing silly Boomerangs with the cocktails they’d ordered. Brooke told her all about Vanessa and Priyanka was thrilled for her, saying how excited she was to one day meet her. Brooke had got her phone out to show her some photos when Priyanka had looked at her own and gave a little exclamation of surprise.

“Oh! Is her nickname Vanjie?”

Brooke had narrowed her eyes, watching as Priyanka scrolled. “Yeah, why?”

“She’s watched my Insta story already. Doesn’t follow me though. Probably just doesn’t want to be weird,” Priyanka had shrugged. Brooke had shrugged back, offhandedly agreeing but internally embarrassed. She’d known why Vanessa had watched her story- she’d been checking up on her. Brooke hadn’t liked that.

When she’d arrived home, everything gradually came crumbling down, the pair of them slowly removing the Jenga blocks of their relationship one at a time. Their hug had been off when they’d seen each other again, their conversation had been the small talk of strangers. And then it had happened. Vanessa had brought up Priyanka, Brooke had brought up the Instagram stalking. Vanessa had brought up how weird she found it that she still wanted to hang out with an ex, Brooke had defended herself and told her they were only friends. Vanessa had expressed how worried she’d been, Brooke had been hurt.

“When have I ever given you reason to be worried?”

“Well shit, when you met up with your ex for drinks?”

Brooke had hit out, called Vanessa out on her jealousy.

“Well maybe I do get jealous! But it’s only ‘cuz I don’t ever want to lose you, fuck, I just don’t want to think about you with anybody else, that’s all!”

“But you don’t have to! Priyanka is my friend, that’s it, that’s all there is to it!” Brooke remembers how irritated she’d been, how exasperated. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you! Of course I trust you. I just don’t trust her,” Vanessa had sighed frustratedly, pulled another block out.

“Well I’m not going to just not see one of my friends for the rest of our relationship, V!”

“So you’re choosing her over me? That it?” Vanessa had questioned. Brooke still remembers the tears in her eyes. She’d known Vanessa hadn’t meant to say that, she knew Vanessa knew she was being unreasonable. But Brooke had reacted instantly, thinking in absolutes, or perhaps not thinking entirely.

“Fuck, Vanessa, well if it’s that black and fucking white to you then what the hell are we doing anyway?” she’d yelled, the finality still hurting her if she thinks about it. The raised tensions in the room had come to a boiling point. Vanessa had gone quiet.

“What are you saying?”

Brooke had committed and she was still angry, still frustrated. She’d doubled down. “Why the hell are we doing this if there’s no trust in our relationship?”

The realisation had dawned slowly and sickly like tar over Vanessa’s face. “You’re saying you want to break up?”

Brooke hadn’t replied, only stared at the floor. Vanessa had taken it as an answer.

She’d left.

Brooke had regretted it, but she’d known they would make amends. It had just been a silly argument, and things had been said that neither of them meant. She still loved her. They still loved each other. Brooke had given it an hour, waited for her to cool off before she called her to apologise.

Vanessa hadn’t picked up.

Brooke’s still waiting on her to call back.

***

Brooke is ten minutes away from a firm meeting when she gets the text.

V: i’ll be at Rialtos for the next hour

V: your move i guess

She doesn’t even think about the decision, simply acts. She asks Nicky to send her apologies, tell the director that she’s had to go home with stomach pains. If she gets a disciplinary it’ll be worth the risk. She crashes out of her office like a tsunami, her bag and her coat swinging wildly from the crook of her arm. Rialto’s is a five minute walk from her office but she makes it in three even in her stilettos. It’s only when she sees it on the corner on the sidewalk opposite that an overwhelming feeling of panic and sickness hits her like a gut punch. She’s been waiting for this moment for the past month-and-twelve-days (she’s counted), but now that it’s here she almost doesn’t know what to do. She’s never felt nerves like this- all of her nerve endings are buzzing like broken strobe lights and every time her heart beats her whole body feels it. It had been different the first time they were supposed to meet up and talk things out because Brooke had been there first, she could sit for a while and psych herself up. But this time Brooke knows that Vanessa is sitting at a table in the bar just across the street, and all that’s separating them is a busy road, a door and a few steps. Brooke steels herself, forces herself to take a few deep breaths as she checks her reflection in the shop window beside her. She looks a fright: no makeup, sleep-deprived bags under her eyes, the only thing remotely presentable about her is her hair which she threw into a low ponytail that morning. Then again, she supposes that Vanessa’s seen her without makeup before. Brooke thinks Vanessa’s seen every possible version of her, apart from of course this one. She takes another deep breath, turns around and stares the bar down as if she’s going to war.

It’s time.

Brooke dashes across the road and it crosses her mind that perhaps it would be better to just let fate take its course and get hit by a yellow taxi, but that’s the coward’s way out so she reaches the bar entranceway, pushes the door open with a huge, held-in breath. Rialto’s is dark inside with dim red lighting, and so even at four in the afternoon it seems as if it’s midnight. There’s red booths with black lacquered tables that shine under the crimson of the lamps positioned above them and the walls are covered in framed pictures, none of which Brooke takes in because she’s searching, slowly yet frantically as if she’s attempting to both prolong and speed up this whole situation. One booth near to her to her right holds a cheerful couple, another on her far left houses an old man drinking a cup of coffee.

And then she sees her.

She’s got her back to the door but Brooke recognises the wave of her blonde hair, the tie-dye of the oversized hoodie she’s wearing. She recognises the acrylic nails and the chunky rings that pattern the hand that’s curled around what looks like a French martini on the table. A searing, painful memory of their first date at Le Bernardin wrenches Brooke’s heart. She takes another deep breath and walks forward even though she feels like she’s going to be sick. She stops just at the table and the breath is knocked out of her lungs.

Vanessa looks up at her, her face impassive. Her makeup is perfect, but then Brooke wouldn’t have expected anything else. There’s dark roots at her side parting but Brooke thinks she somehow suits them. Apart from that she looks exactly the same, just how Brooke remembers her.

“Hi,” Brooke greets her feebly. Vanessa somehow communicates a shrug through a blink.

“Hey,” she says, taking her hand off her glass to gesture to the seat opposite her. “Sit.”

Brooke nods as she sits down in the red leather seat, and it’s only then that she notices there’s a second cocktail opposite Vanessa. It looks like a pornstar martini, it’s one of Brooke’s favourites.

“I ordered you one. Figured it might make this easier,” Vanessa explains. Her expression doesn’t break. Brooke is touched by the gesture.

“Thanks,” she says. Her hands shake as she reaches out to take the glass, sips at it and feels the sweetness of the vanilla vodka and the tang of the passionfruit coat her dry mouth. Her stomach’s still churning as Vanessa sits regarding her for a moment. Brooke wants to say something. She wants to immediately apologise for it all, even though she’s left twelve voicemails and twenty texts saying the same thing. She wants to ask how Vanessa is, even though that would be the most idiotic of things to say. Eventually she decides to lead with a compliment.

“You look great.”

Vanessa sniffs. “You don’t.”

Brooke takes the hit, supposes she deserves it. “I’ve not been sleeping great.”

“Yeah. Yvie’s mentioned,” Vanessa looks down at her lap, blinks. When she looks up again she’s clearly ready to speak, and Brooke’s heart is in her mouth. “So, we need to talk properly.”

“Yes.”

Vanessa looks down at the table, then into Brooke’s eyes. Brooke can tell she’s having a hard time doing so. “Uh, first off I wanna say sorry.”

The apology knocks Brooke for six. She feels herself frown involuntarily. “For what?”

“Well, it was wrong of me to try an’ make you choose between me and your friend. I knew it was wrong the moment I said it but I was jealous, an’ I was hurt. But that don’t excuse it, so I’m sorry.”  

Brooke shakes her head. She’d been annoyed at Vanessa for that at the time, and she’d have maybe appreciated an apology a month ago, but just now it only seems trivial in the grand scheme of things. “Vanessa, you don’t…you don’t need to apologise for this situation.”

Vanessa narrows her eyes at her and there’s a warning look in her gaze, so Brooke drops her protests and shrugs a little. “But I accept your apology.”

Vanessa nods, clearly following some internal script. Brooke is happy to go along with it, to play her part and say her lines, whatever they’re meant to be. She’s so used to immediately taking control of every situation she finds herself in, and even though her stomach feels sick and she feels as if she’s in an interrogation room she doesn’t mind playing the role of the witness and letting Vanessa be the lawyer for a change. She supposes she is on trial in some way.

“Now…I know that you’re sorry, you’ve made that pretty clear, so I don’t want another apology from you,” Vanessa begins, and part of Brooke doesn’t like that because she does want to say sorry, but maybe that’s just for her own benefit and not Vanessa’s. Vanessa sighs as she continues, looks down at her drink and this time doesn’t break eye contact. “But I need you to know how much you hurt me.”

Brooke winces. She realises Vanessa’s waiting for confirmation. “Okay.”

Vanessa pauses, and the breath she takes is shaky before she speaks again. “I…loved you so much, Brooke Lynn.”

The past tense slices Brooke in half.

“I never loved anyone like that before in my life. An’ I always thought you were too good to be true, like somehow one day I’d wake up and our whole relationship would be a dream. I never stopped tellin’ you how lucky I was or how much I appreciated you or how much I loved you. An’ you never stopped tellin’ me either. You made me feel so loved, an’ so precious, an’ so…fuck, sorry.”

Vanessa’s tone grows frustrated, anger layering with the tears Brooke can see in her eyes as she tips her head up, swipes at them like a tiger to wipe them away. Brooke thinks her heart might be breaking again, halves into quarters.

“An’ so that day, when we had that fight,” Vanessa continues, staring steadfastly at Brooke. “All of that, everything we had…it was like it didn’t matter anymore? Like everything we’d shared an’ everything I’d told you an’ everything you’d told me…like, what, that was all for nothing?”

“It wa-”

“Just lemme get this out, please,” Vanessa puts a hand up, stops her. “It was like everything I knew about you was just…nothing. I didn’t know you anymore. An’ I know it was a stupid fight and we shoulda been able to work that shit out, but…I was hurt. I’m still hurting. You hurt me.”

Vanessa stops. She’s done. Brooke wants to cry. She swallows the feeling down before she speaks.

“I behaved like a dick. And I said stupid things, but by the time they were out I couldn’t take them back. I didn’t mean any of it, Vanessa, I just…opened my mouth and said whatever got there first. That’s my fault, I know that. And I know I’ve apologised before but I haven’t had the chance to do it in person, so I’m honestly so sorry for hurting you. For making it seem like our relationship meant nothing to me. Like you meant nothing to me. You mean the world to me, you still do,” Brooke sighs, trying to make the deep breath she takes to stave off her tears subtle. She can’t meet Vanessa’s eyes when there’s tears in her own so she fixes her gaze on the passionfruit half floating in her drink as she continues. “And you don’t have to accept it, just as long as you hear it.”

“I know,” Vanessa says instantly. She looks calmer now she’s said her piece and heard Brooke’s, and she takes a sip from the two little black straws sticking out of the martini glass. She suddenly rolls her eyes, a bitter smile spreading across her face. “Fuck you, Brooke Lynn.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I mean…fuck you for making me still love you. Fuck me for still loving you,” Vanessa sighs, resigned. The words make Brooke’s heart give a leap and she can’t help the smile she instantly tries to suppress and fails. Vanessa narrows her eyes at her, her expression turning serious. “But that don’t mean I forgive you.”

“I know. You don’t have to,” Brooke says guiltily. She thinks about saying it, wonders if it’ll guilt-trip Vanessa and she doesn’t want that, but indulgently and selfishly she says it anyway. “I still love you. I never stopped.”

Vanessa winces as if she’s been shot, her expression instantly turning into one of discomfort and her eyes squeezing shut. Brooke frowns. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologising, Christ. You’re so fuckin’ Canadian,” Vanessa sighs exasperatedly as she puts her head in her hands, and Brooke probably would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been trying to repair the most important relationship of her life so far. Brooke feels awkward and she’s in this conversation without a map, unsure which direction it’s going in.

“Where do we go from here?”

Vanessa drains her glass, foam and syrup all that’s left. She leans back in her chair and folds her arms over. There’s a tiny smile that’s back on her face, and it makes Brooke’s hopes start to climb.

“Well,” she shrugs a little, her guard still up but ever so slightly lowered. “You can start by buyin’ me another drink an’ we can take it from there.”

Brooke nods, grabs her purse and almost sprints to the bar. She orders another French martini and another pornstar- she thinks she’ll be needing it. As she waits for their drinks and the sound of ice in a cocktail shaker cuts through the air, Brooke sneaks a look at Vanessa in the booth. She’s so gorgeous. Brooke’s happy to see her again, despite the circumstances. Just as she makes to turn back around, Vanessa’s head snaps up from the phone in her hand and their eyes meet.

Vanessa’s gaze is soft and the small smile on her face is warm.

Maybe they’re going to be okay.

[angrylizardjacket]

wishful drinking // Charlotte&Lola

Summary: After Charlotte, Peach, and Eileen go missing, everyone else believes they're dead. Everyone but Lola and Tommy. It's difficult to cope and hope at the same time, and sometimes it even reopens old wounds.

A/N: Wow a song fic, christ. Loosely based on Wishful Drinking by Tessa Violet which just gives me so many emotions about Lola. Ido believe this is the single angstiest thing I've ever written on this blog. @misscharlottelee @peachonscreen I'm so very sorry this is so sad and dark jfc. WARNINGS: Focuses on alcohol addiction as a coping mechanism, there is a funeral, acute references to Lola's childhood trauma, a panic attack, and heroin use right at the end there, and there is some very mild implied suicidal ideation

----

separate me from the rest of the herd so I can run away from all of my hurt oh

drink what I want, be what I want, say what you want me to say like I can pretend that I don't wanna end I'm afraid

I'm dangerous

Everyone keeps saying they're dead, but there's no proof so how can they sound so certain?

Lola's already halfway through a bottle of rum, as Charlotte's parents scowl their way through a list of rules that sound more like demands, of what the band is and isn't allowed to do at Charlotte's funeral. For which their is no body. Lola rolls her eyes and takes another drink.

This is the second speech like this that they've had to sit through this week, since Peach and Eileen's parents seemed equally sceptical of the band's ability to behave appropriately at their daughters' funeral. Which was a farce with no bodies. Lola takes another drink and squeezes her eyes shut.

Nikki's got a hand on her thigh, and Tommy's got an arm around her, the three of them squeezed onto a sofa probably built for two.

Nikki was fucked up out of his mind on more drugs than Lola had ever known him to take. Losing Charlotte had broken something inside of him, and when Lola had told him that she and the other girls had gone missing, he'd sworn until his voice was hoarse, crying more genuinely than she'd ever seen him do before. He was terrified of being lucid, of remembering his reality and reacting like that again.

"I wasn't... I was never in love with Charlie, but I really did love her, you know, like I love Tommy; he's like my brother, but she... she was good for us. Better than any of us ever deserved."

Lola takes another drink.

Tommy's lucid and full of rage, two cans of beer and a line of coke before lunch is all he takes now since she's gone, high off anger, demanding people find her, reading maps, triangulating where she could possibly have gotten lost, trying to put together search parties. He, like Lola, won't believe she's gone until he knows for certain, but unlike Lola, he won't take 'her plane disappeared in the mountains of another country, there's nothing we can really do, I'm so sorry' as an answer.

He holds Lola tighter when Charlotte's parents level a teary-eyed glare at him and spit that he's not allowed to start spouting his conspiracy bullshit about her still being alive, at the funeral. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns, pressing his face into Lola's hair and heaving an irritated sigh.

"I know," Lola mumbles back, words spilling into each other. Tommy's breathing is deep and level in a way that's completely controlled, like he's working on subduing his feelings. Nikki gives Lola's thigh a squeeze, but she's not quite sure if he meant to, it could have been a hand twitch. Lola leans against Tommy just a little more, "I know."

She takes another drink.

None of them are allowed to make a speech; Charlotte's mother and Tommy's sister will both be reading eulogies, but if any of the band speaks up, they will be removed from the ceremony.

"What about Razzle?" Vince is the one to speak up, and Lola's breath catches in her throat.

"Nicholas..." Charlotte's mother finally softens her tone, and casts a look to her father, a silent question.

"Nicholas will do his best to prepare an address, but has also told us that he will decide on the day if he will be able to present it," its the fairest thing they've said all day. Their sensitivity to Razzle and his situation keeps Lola from hurling her bottle at them; if they'd shit-talked Charlotte's grieving fiance, she'd have no qualms beating up her missing friend's parents there and then. Instead, all Lola can picture is Razzle, overwhelmingly upset to the point that he can't even bring himself to read a eulogy at his fiance's sham of a funeral.

As much as Lola believes its a sham, she won't push that on Razzle, either way, Charlotte's not here; it hurts like a fresh wound, she can't even begin to imagine how he must be feeling if he really believes she's gone for good.

Lola's bottle is emptying quickly.

"Is Penny okay?" Vince asks, voice soft and concerned for the missing woman's two-year-old daughter.

"She's with Nicholas," Charlotte's mother says, but tears well in her eyes and the words catch in her throat. Charlotte's father puts his arm around her, drawing her in close.

"She keeps asking for Charlotte," his voice cracks, "and... and none of us know what to tell her."

weave a story so I don't have to talk, no, it's not a problem if I never get caught oh

drink what I want, be what I want, say what you want me to say like I can pretend that I don't wanna end I'm afraid

I'm dangerous

Charlotte would either be right furious, or annoyingly understanding, about the fact that Lola is wine drunk and trying to act sober at her funeral. But if Charlotte has a problem with Lola's behaviour at her sham funeral, she should come home and tell Lola herself.

The only people who Lola isn't glowering at are Razzle and Penny. Razzle's in the quietest outfit she's ever seen him in, all black, not a hint of flair or personality, and Penny's been put in a little, frilly black dress, with a black headband which she has thrown on the ground, since she's in the middle of a screaming fit.

Razzle is desperately trying to hold himself together while Penny demands to see her mother at the top of her lungs. Tommy, for all he loathes the pageantry of this funeral, feeling as though it's being put on to make Charlotte's extended friends and family feel less guilty about giving up the search for her, has nothing but kindness and gentle understanding for the man he considered to practically be his brother-in-law.

Kneeling in front of where Razzle's bouncing Penny on his knee, Tommy lays a gentle hand on his other knee, and when Razzle looks to him, as if startled out of focusing entirely on his daughter, there's tears in his eyes. He can't even form words, mouth opening and closing like a fish, but he quickly stills moving Penny, who tries to throw herself on him, her little fists beating his hands insistently, somehow getting louder with her demands.

"I miss mommy! I want mommy!"

Tommy quickly scoops Penny from her father's hands, and Razzle doesn't stop him, just looks on with a painfully helpless expression, like he's not sure what to do with himself now. Tommy chatters away to Penny, hugging her as he takes her to walk around in the sunshine, away from the other guests, and Razzle's lip trembles as his eyes refuse to focus on anything but the beautiful picture of Charlotte her parents chose to display for the event.

Right as he bursts into tears, Lola slides into the seat beside him. No words pass between them, but she wraps him up in a hug, and he holds her tight in response, nails digging into her, apologies babbles almost incoherently, and Lola feels a wave of guilt sweep through her.

The night she'd found out Charlotte had gone missing, she'd gone to Razzle's hotel in tears, full of fury, looking for answers, for anything, knowing only that he and Charlotte had fought right before Charlotte, Peach, and Eileen had taken the spontaneous flight on which they had gone missing. She'd blamed him, at the time, for Charlotte leaving. She'd blamed him, at the time, for Charlotte going missing.

Lola whispers apologies back as best she can in her quietly drunken state, rubbing his back, wishing she'd thought to being her flask; maybe it would have helped ease some of his pain, she knew it definitely would have eased some of hers.

She can't find the words to tell him that she knows its not his fault, not before Tommy comes back right before the ceremony starts, and sits himself on Razzle's other side, Penny quiet in his arms.

When Razzle turns to see his daughter, he sees her reach out with both her arms, asking for a hug. Razzle holds her close, holds her tight, and looks to Tommy with question in his eyes.

"Told her that it was like when you went back to Finland to make music, but a bit longer."

"Momma was sad," Penny's little voice was muffled against Razzle as she refused to let go of her father. Tommy nodded sagely, and Razzle's lip trembled.

"Charlie needed a lot of hugs from Pennylope while you were away; told Penny that you'd need a lot of hugs too, now." Tommy's voice was quiet, his tone gentle like he was still explaining to Penny, and Razzle pulled his daughter back a little, giving her as much of a smile as he could muster.

"You're too good to me, Pennylope; I do need a lot of hugs," and he holds her close again, taking a deep, shake breath, "I'm never gonna let you go."

oh, wishful drinking

tell myself that I'm not thinking bout how I could drown

drown drown drown

wishful drinking

Perhaps part of the reason why Lola can't believe Charlotte's really dead is the fact that Lola had kind of always assumed Charlotte would outlive her. Its morbid, but its not ab inherently false assumption to make, considering Lola drinks probably more spirits than water and gets into fights for fun. Statistically, she should already be dead. So why was she at a funeral for Charlotte.

She finishes her glass of wine and reminds herself firmly that the funeral's a sham.

She can't actually remember how she got to the bar of the hotel that she and Nikki we're staying at in Charlotte and Tommy's home town, but a majority of the people from the funeral were there, to drink and pay their final respects, so Lola assumes one of them had brought her.

She sits at the bar and orders drinks in rapid succession, while Tommy mulls over the same glass of JD for half an hour beside her while chain-smoking and people watching. It feels like they're the only two on the same page, knowing intrinsically that Charlotte's still out there any everyone who refuses to believe that is betraying her.

"Why her?" Lola mumbles into her drink.

"She's not dead, don't you start talking like she is, too," Tommy frowns into his glass. Lola finishes her drink and pushes it out of the way as she rests her arms on the bar, and her head on her arms, looking at Tommy with a strangely blank expression.

"I know, but she's still not here; why any of them? None of them deserve it, deserve to be missing, deserve to have people stop caring about looking for them," Lola's brow creased into the barest frown, "but if people knew that they weren't gone and were just missing, just needed to be found, they'd know they still need the girls," and she gives a forlorn sigh, "they don't deserve this, people still need them."

Behind her, Tommy sees where all of Hanoi Rocks has crowded into a booth with Razzle to keep him company, doing their best to cheer him, to comfort him, each of them taking it in turn to entertain Penny, who was overjoyed at seeing her band-uncles again. The picture looked incomplete without Charlotte.

"Why them?" Lola said softly, sitting back up and ordering another drink, and Tommy hears what she really means this time, the way she implies 'it should have been me'.

go ahead and stop your thinking now

and throw it down

down down down

wishful drinking now

Lola develops a new game over the following weeks, where every time someone mentions Charlotte, she takes a shot. Or four.

Nikki's getting back to normal faster than Lola is, just says that Charlie wouldn't want to see them moping around.

Vince and Mick, still shaken by the loss of Peach and Eileen respectively, agree.

Tommy's still looking for ways to try and find them in his spare time, but focuses on the band so Charlotte will be able to come back and be proud; something about his reasoning makes bile rise in the back of Lola's throat for reasons she can't quite put her finger on.

Lola drinks, because she's come to realise she's useless. She doesn't have the actual band resources to put into helping find the girls, and Doc only keeps her on the payroll because the band won't let him fire her, he doesn't need an assistant.

The only person she would felt safe talking about all of this to was missing.

So Lola drinks.

What else is there to do?

hide your demons where no one can see em, outta sight but in your mind you believe em

drink what you want, be what they want, say what they want you to say like I can pretend that I don't wanna end I'm afraid

I'm dangerous

Lola knows now why Tommy's desperate playing to make sure Charlotte's happy upon her return makes Lola feel sick.

He kept mentioning it, kept asking whether the others thought their new album would be as good as their old stuff, the stuff Charlotte liked, and Nikki had snapped, fed up.

Lola had been in the kitchen when he'd started yelling that she wasn't coming back, and when Tommy hollered that he was an asshole at the top of his lungs.

"If she was alive, she'd be here! But she's fucking not!" Nikki's words rung through the air and were met with stunned silence, "you know why she's not here?" He hissed venomously, and Lola drops the glass she'd been holding, recognising that tone from almost a decade ago.

Nikki, in the present, snaps that its because Charlotte's gone for good, but Lola doesn't hear that. Lola hears her mother.

Lola hears that her father's never coming back because she's a disappointment, because shes not good enough, or kind enough, or talented enough.

The wrong wires connect in Lola's brain in a way that's all too familiar, in a way that makes her scars ache and tears well in her eyes.

And in another moment its gone, and Lola sees the shards on the ground and knows that Charlotte would hate a dirty kitchen. She sweeps them up.

Later, Tommy will find her, and before he can even open his mouth, she's holding his face in her hands, reassuring him that Charlotte would love their new music. His expression brightens, and he kisses her in thanks; something eases in Lola's chest.

No matter where Charlotte is, Lola will never let Tommy believe what was beaten into her for years, she'll never let him believe that he is the reason Charlotte's not here. Nobody deserves to believe that... And yet a voice in the back of Lola's mind tells her she has to do better, for Charlotte.

The voice sounds like her mother's.

do you think do you think that they notice

I keep a bottle by my bed it's the focus

drink what I want, be what I want, say what you want me to say like I can pretend that I don't wanna end I'm afraid

I'm dangerous

After a while, Doc stops praising Lola for showing up to the studio on time and sober - she's absolutely not sober, but she's also not had enough to drink for it to effect her composure. When he stops praising her, she worries that he knows she's always a little buzzed, and then she gets annoyed, thinking that he's just an asshole. It takes her a full week to realise that it's neither, in fact, its just that she's been doing it consistently enough that he's come to expect it of her.

People note her improved work ethic, compliment her even, and its nice, and she knows that if Charlotte were here that she'd be saying nice things right along side everyone else.

Nikki had been right, Charlotte wouldn't want to mope around, so Lola had to actually do well so when Charlotte came back, she could prove that she hadn't been moping.

Sometimes that voice in the back of her mind gets harsh, tells her she's not doing enough, but Lola reminds that voice that Charlotte would roll her eyes at Lola's antics, but she'd somehow always be understanding in the end. Lola didn't need to be perfect, she just needed to be better.

And she was!

She takes a shot to quiet the voice down in those moments anyways, just for good measure.

No-one seems to notice if she's four shots in before noon, one more won't hurt.

this is not a problem if I don't want it to stop

can't call it a problem if I never let a plate drop

this is not a problem if convincing that it's not

don't call it a problem it's the only thing that I still got

Nikki is spiralling into his heroin addiction of his own accord, but Lola knows Charlotte would think they're both better than that; Lola won't be able to convince Nikki, but she can keep herself away from it.

Her job's going well, and she and Tommy are still close, and she is allowed to babysit Penny on nights when Vince takes Razzle out partying. Its trust earned, that she never would have been able to earn if she hadn't been trying to do good for when Charlotte gets back.

But the world goes to hell in a single night.

What the fuck are they meant to tell Penny?

Her dad is dead.

Another thing Charlotte can't come back to.

Turns out they don't have to be the ones to tell Penny; Razzle's parents come to pick up her and their son's body, and though Tommy begs for them not to take her, they're terrified of her ending up just like her parents -

"Charlotte's not dead -"

"Wake up, Thomas, you're putting false hope into this girl's head, it'll ruin her mind if you don't let her live in reality!" Razzle's mother spits, while his father has already taken Penny out to the car to take her to the airport.

Tommy's in tears when he calls Lola.

The pair of them are devastated.

Why would Charlotte come back here if Penny and Razzle weren't here? The only person she'd loved more than Razzle was Penny, and now they were both -

"Lo, what's the point?"

"The point?"

"Of being all good and shit, for Charlie?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's not gonna come back to us," Tommy sighed, sniffling, "she's out there, but she'd go to Penny before any of us, and now..."

"Please don't say that," Lola's voice trembled, her heart beating in an erratic staccato in her chest.

"There's nothing worth coming back here for -"

Lola drops the receiver, curling in on herself, shaking all over as his words play over and over and over in her mind while all she can think about is the fact that yet again, she's not enough for someone she loved and felt safe with.

She's gasping for air, chest tight and tears stinging her eyes, heart beating in her ears while she's shaking like a leaf, in the full throes of a panic attack.

It takes her a long while to calm down, to ground herself in the feel of the carpet beneath her and the sound of the ocean outside, and the cars and the wind and the smell of the sea.

The first thing she does after she stands, is to get a drink, and then another, and then another, then to take the bottle into the bedroom, in to Nikki.

"Babe -?" He sees her red rimmed eyes first as she jostles him awake, and he wants to ask questions.

"I need something to get me out of my fucking mind, please, anything," she begs, lip trembling as she tries to focus on Nikki and not Tommy's words on loop in her mind.

"You sure?"

"Anything, the world is a fucking nightmare, and nothing fucking matters," and Nikki leans over to his nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out a kit Lola knew was his heroin kit. Now it didn't seem like a bad choice.

"Is this about Razz?" Nikki asks, making quick work of preparing the drug for her. Lola swallows hard, and sits on the bed.

"Neither of them fucking deserved it," and Nikki knows immediately that she's referring to both Charlotte and Razzle, and he pauses, "the world needs people like them."

The room is very quiet for the few moments where Nikki cooks the powder to a liquid, pulling it up into his syringe. He instructs Lola on how to tie off her arm, and carefully injects her after double checking that its what she wanted.

As the tie around her arm is loosened, and the drug hits, Lola laughs, but there's no humour in it, her head tipping back, bottle still clutched firmly in her other hand.

"Its a fucking joke that the world is stuck with people like me."

[crimefightingspiderguy]

kiss me

Part IV to the series, i want you to want me.

Summary: An accidental kiss can lead to some confusing times.

Warnings: I guess spoilers for Spider-Man: Homecoming? But if you haven’t seen that yet, get to it, hop along.

Pairings: Peter Parker x best friend!reader

Word count: 1,580

A/N: I hope you enjoy the finale to this mini series!

Peter and you parted ways as he made his way to go do his Spider-Man patrol, and you headed home. It wasn’t until you’d gotten home that you realized that you never brought your chemistry textbook back from Peter’s when you studied at his house last week. The two of you usually shared his copy in class, since he kept it in his locker, and your copy at home, making it easier than having to lug unnecessary weight back and forth. You let your dad know you’d be heading to Peter’s so you could get your book back, and you were on your way. You were sure Peter wasn’t back yet, but it was getting close to dinner, so it should be soon. Regardless, aunt May would let you in no question. When you got there, you could smell something burning, and you knew that aunt May was attempting a new recipe. You knocked on the door, and waited, she quickly opened it and greeted you on the other side. 

“(Y/N)! To what do I owe the pleasure? It can’t be Peter, he’s out at his Stark internship.”

“May, I smelt your cooking all the way back at my place, and I came as quick as I could to make sure I was the first to get to taste the delicacy.” She rolled her eyes at you, and motioned for you to come in. 

“I’m trying a new recipe, but clearly it’s not working out because it smells awful. But maybe, that’s what it’s supposed to smell like!” 

“I’m sure that’s the problem!” You agreed enthusiastically, then quickly turned to hide your wide eyes and face of disgust at the smell. “I’m just here to grab my book real quick, I left it here last week and need it for the homework.” You began heading towards Peter’s room. 

“Sounds good, but don’t be spooked if Peter randomly comes through the window, he’s been coming up the fire escape after his internship because he’s embarrassed about the uniform Stark is making him wear.” She chuckled.

“I bet it’s a real show stopper” You smirked.

You began searching in Peter’s desk for your textbook. You had your back turned to the window, so you hadn’t even noticed when Peter opened the window. He was crawling on the ceiling, and slowly shut the door. This caught your attention, and you looked around. He jumped down behind you, landing on his desk. 

“Boo”. He whispered in your ear. 

“Jesus Christ Peter!” You turn around and smack his arm.

“I see you’re still easily spooked.” He smirked as he climbed off the desk.

“It’s been a day since you scared me last, of course I’m still jumpy!” You laughed. “Anyway, before I have a heart attack, do you know where my Chemistry textbook is?” 

“Oh yeah, I was reading it and fell asleep so it’s under my bed. I’m gonna change really quick, before May catches me.” You nod and make your way over to the bed, get on the floor and grab your book from below. Just then, the smoke alarm went off and you heard aunt May curse as she pulled a chair over to it to turn it off. You jumped up, chuckling at her, and you looked over at Peter to crack a joke with him about how one day his aunt would inevitably burn the place down. You stopped when you noticed he was entirely naked besides his boxers. 

“Shit Pete, when’d you get buff?” You asked. You’d seen him like this before when you’d gone to a community pool with him, but not recently, and you were genuinely surprised. He blushed at your comment and shrugged,

“I guess when I became Spider-Man.” You nodded, about to respond when you heard aunt May heading towards the room laughing. Peter was basically naked, a crumpled Spider-Man suit on the floor. You didn’t know what came over you, but you reacted so quickly. You grabbed his arm and threw him on the bed. You quickly jumped on his lap, straddling him, and kissed him. Aunt May opened the door chuckling about her mistake still, 

“Well dinner’s burnt… Oh my.” She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw you and Peter. You quickly scrambled off his lap and to the opposite side of the bed, both of you beet red with blush. You quickly got up, grabbed your textbook and rushed towards the door. 

“Well, I’ll be seeing you.” You waved, quickly exiting the apartment. You honestly had no idea what came over you. You knew you had to distract May from Peter’s suit on the ground, and you weren’t sure how to go about it with him being half-naked. The only explanation for the nakedness you could come up with quickly was kissing him. You felt awful. Not only did you not ask him if it was cool if you did it, but you just left him to explain to May. The only thing that felt right about it was that she definitely wouldn’t be talking about anything else, and she above all else would not notice the suit carelessly thrown on the ground by Peter. 

Your phone binged, and you dreaded looking at it. Hoping it wasn’t Peter.

P: “Can you call me later?”

You sigh, and you turned off your phone. You didn’t want to talk about it until you came up with a good reason for your actions. You knew you couldn’t avoid Peter forever, but you could at least try. All night, the only thing you could think about was how wrong you were to have put Peter in that position, and you knew that at school you’d have to apologize, and face the music. You hoped things wouldn’t be awkward for too long. Peter on the other hand was completely okay with what had happened, he knew your mind well enough to know you probably panicked and that was your solution to distract May and explain him begin naked. He wasn’t mad in the slightest, and he actually just wanted to know that the two of you were cool since you ran off so quickly, and weren’t answering your phone. 

The next day you asked your dad to drive you to school on his way to work. You wanted to avoid Peter until it was impossible to do so. So, you didn’t turn on your phone until your drive to school, and you drove instead of taking the bus with Peter. When you turned your phone back on your notifications from Peter came in.

P: “Hey, can we talk?”

P: “I just wanna make sure you’re good.” 

P: “At least tell me if you got home safely.”

*2 missed calls from “spider-boi 🕷”*

P: “I’m guessing you fell asleep or shut your phone off to study, so I’ll see you in the morning I guess. Goodnight!” 

P: “Hey, are you meeting me at the bus stop?” 

P: “Did you sleep in or are you still ignoring me?”

P: “I’m gonna get on the bus, but if you don’t text me back I’m calling you at lunch then banging on your door after school’s out.” 

You sighed and reluctantly texted him back,

Y: “I’m alive, I promise. Slept in, wasn’t feeling well. Dad’s driving me, see you in gym class.”

When you looked up from your phone you saw that your dad had stopped, and was being directed by an officer to take the side street. There was a huge explosion that happened at Mr. Delmore’s. You remembered when you kissed Peter, you smelt smoke in his hair, but you assumed it was from May’s cooking. You wondered if he was there when it happened. 

When you got to school you rushed to your locker and put your stuff away, hoping to not bump into Peter in the halls. You had one class without Peter before lunch and that was band. Since he dropped it at least. You quickly rushed to the band room and began setting up and tuning your flute. You nervously shook your foot and dreaded each tick of the clock bringing you closer to facing Peter. After the bell rang, indicating band was over and it was time to head to gym, you slowly packed away your instrument and music sheets. You took your time changing in the locker room, and eventually dragged yourself out to the gym floor. 

“(Y/N)! Finally, I was so worried about you last night!” Peter rushed over to you, a look of relief on his face as he brought you in for a hug, that you hesitantly returned. “What’s the matter?” He asked as he pulled away and you took your seats in the back of the bleachers, getting ready for the day’s instructions. 

“I’m sorry I kissed you, I don’t know what came over me or why I did it, I just panicked and wanted an explanation for why you were almost naked in the room with me for May and it just sort of happened. Please don’t hate me.” You rushed out everything you’d been telling yourself you’d say to Peter when you finally had to confront him. He just chuckled. 

“I understand why you did it, and I could never hate you. And as far as first kisses go, that wasn’t too bad.” He winked at you, trying to make you laugh and feel better about the situation. 

Taglist: @popluckbih @yourbiggestspiderfan

I hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always welcome :)

Find more of my work here.

My work is exclusively posted on Tumblr by me, on this blog. If you see my work posted elsewhere, please reach out to me.

Thank you, xx.

[wldflour]

Red Desert - [C.H.]

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! Just wanted to say I’ve been wanting to start a series of imagines inspired by the new album ‘CALM’! GO STREAM!! Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

Notes: imagine, a bit of angst, mention of drinking, touching/making out- but not smut content, swearing

Summary: You and Calum have been together for a while. Between his tour schedule and your busy work schedule, the pressure leads you guys to the decision of running away or staying in the same situation you both face.

__________________________________________________________

It was 2:46 am when Calum finally got back from the listening party for the newest album his band, 5 Seconds of Summer, just came out with. You were already half-asleep on the couch, waiting for him. 

He invited you to go with him, but you sincerely thought you would die of exhaustion if you went. 

He completely understood the situation as he was also going through it himself. The listening party was only the tip of the iceberg for him, as he had several more interviews to go to in the next two weeks. From an outsider’s perspective, they would kill to be in his spot. Calum was grateful for everything he has accomplished. He felt like the luckiest man in the world for everything that has happened in a span of a few years. But he can’t help but feel a bit selfish for wanting it all to just- stop. 

You’ve also been feeling the same. Your busy schedule clashed with Calum’s and you never even had time as to spare glances to one another. You’ve often questioned if there was still something there.. If you’ve both became ‘comfortable’ with each other being in the same house or if it’s an actual relationship.

Calum walks over to the couch you laid on and massages your shoulders. You sit upright and lay on his chest. His hands start roaming all over you and you feel yourself heat up. Small moments you get like this keeps you hopefully on the relationship. 

“How was the listening party?” you whispered as he leaned over to start kissing your neck. Each kiss sent tingles down your entire body and you just want to pull him towards you. 

“It was okay,” he gets up from his postion and sits down on the couch. “I missed you though.” You pull him into a heated kiss. He holds onto your back and pulls you into him. The smell immediately hits you.

He’s been drinking. He knows you hate how he gets, so he doesn’t do it in front of you, but of course, he ends up the way you always dread him to be. 

You pull away and look at him. “Have you been drinking?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, yes. It was a fucking listening party; you think I wasn’t going to drink?” Calum gets up from the couch and heads to the bedroom.

You’re blood started to boil. You didn’t want to start a fight, but you’ll be damned if he walked away after swearing at you for mentioning his drinking. 

“What the hell- don’t walk away from me Cal,” You got up and stopped him in the hallway. “Why are you getting mad? You know I hate how you get after you drink- I’ve told you a million times!”

Calum turns around and scoffs. “Sorry you’re such a fucking prude.” Calum turns back, but not before you get a word in.

“Fucking asshole.” You said as you went back to the living room to sleep on the couch. 

You hear the door slam as you reached the living room and heavy footsteps approach where you were at. You couldn’t help but feel scared as to what Calum could do. The thought never crossed your mind that Calum would be capable of hurting you, but you braced yourself for what could happen. You hold your arms to your face and make yourself into a ball. 

You hear him in front of you and kneel. It stays silent for a while and you uncover yourself. You see Calum’s reaction. He’s been silently crying; his eyes puffy and red as a result. 

“Did you think I was going to-” He chokes up and starts crying harder. Your eyes start to fill up and you try to find any words to comfort him.

“I don’t know, I-” You were at a loss of words. “You’ve been stressed lately and-”

“That should be no excuse! I would never and I want you to know I wouldn’t dare,” He looks up at you and cups your hand into his and kisses them. “I should’ve known better than to drink my problems away. I’m so sorry..” Calum puts his head on your lap and you instinctively start to brush it through your fingers. 

You feel his breathing start to level and make him look up at you. “Calum, it’s okay. I forgive you,” You brush one of his tears away and rest your forehead onto his. “We’ve both been stressed lately; I just want all of this to disappear- just make it be you and me.” You sighed and kissed his lips softly.

He pulled away. “It can be that way!” He brings you to your feet quickly and pulls you into the bedroom. “We should just pack our bags now!”

You were speechless. “Umm Cal, are you.. sure you’re in the right headspace right now?” You ask as he swiftly gets out the suitcases from the storage closet.

“I’ve never been more sure in my life,” He walks over to you again and pulls you in. “I just want it to be me and you. Let’s run away, together. This life,” he gestures around the hallway filled with our memories. “This life isn’t us. We need to escape.”

“Calum, you’ve been drinking.. I don’t want to make any decisions while you’re under the influence..” You cross your arms as you watch him stuff all of his clothes into a suitcase. 

“Do you like where you are at the moment? Think about it. Do you?” Calum asked.

His question surprised you. That’s all you’ve ever been thinking about.

Calum walks over to you and holds you. “I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with you. I’d do anything for you,” He whispered. “Let’s pack up all our bags and just, go.”

“Cal, everything you’ve worked for... what I’ve worked for,” You look up at him and feel a tear rush down your cheek. “This is all too soon; I’m scared. What would we even do?”

“All of this is temporary.” He gestured. “You and I, we deserve to be happy.”

You realize you made your decision.

“Our friends, family?” You pulled away.

He shrugs. “They’ll understand.” 

You pull him into a long embrace and kiss him deeply. You stay like this for a moment until you decide to speak up.

“Fuck it,” you said laughing. He chuckles with you. “Look at what you’re what making me do Cal.” 

You separate and both of you start packing as many bags as possible from your shared bedroom. You look over at him and smile. You know you won’t regret this moment ever.

[nightklok]

I literally have requests and other things to go through but it became that kinda day so welp. (I promise I’ll get to it!) Incredibly self indulgent but I deserve some self indulgence. As a treat.

Prompt taken from: 100 Ways to Say “I Love You” [Open] Number: 16) “It’s okay.  I couldn’t sleep anyway.” Pairing: Charles Offdensen/ Pickles the Drummer Word Count: 1526 Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death.

There were many, many, many instances in Pickles’ life where he learned that as much as it killed him to not know, it was better to not ask a question in the first place. Asking the wrong question at the wrong time was almost a death sentence and one he learned very quickly in the short amount of time he spent living in the streets back when he was a teen. It had become a skill, almost, to know when to ask the right questions at the right time. It didn’t mean he actually became more careful as time passed by but the skills and mindset always was tucked underneath in some corner of his brain. 

With Charles coming back from the fucking dead it was easy for him to realize that it was a situation where he probably was better off not asking any questions. Charles supplied so little whenever the guys asked and so he didn’t add any of his questions to it. It was easier that way for him to learn to move on and he liked to think he was just a bit grateful that Pickles wasn’t harassing him on where he was going.

Pickles just didn’t anticipate how much the idea of not knowing was eating him alive. And who could blame him, quite frankly? He had known Charles for nearly 2/3rds of his own life, had to grieve when he thought he lost him, and it turns out he was alive the whole time so he had to erase those nine months of pent up feelings. Pent up feelings that he knew would resurface and create a mess everywhere. A mess he didn’t want Charles to pick up for him.

So he did what he did best and that was drinking and taking whatever was nearest to him. While it worked for a while, there was only so much he could do before the effects would wear off and he was left to those thoughts again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget. Couldn’t forget what happened that night and the nights afterwords. Grieving (or post grieving?) was a bitch.

It must’ve been a few weeks or maybe even days when Charles knocked on his door at near...1 AM in the morning? It was odd considering how Charles normally wouldn’t bother him or the others at this time. If it was important, it could be left in the morning as he always said. Naturally, he finished the rest of his cheap beer and tossed it aside before shouting, “It’s open.” 

Charles was still wearing his suit when he entered the door, meaning he was working pretty dead. He always seemed to be staying up late more recently and it became apparent when they were finally alone. He looked exhausted.

“What’re you doin’ here? Did somethin’ happen?” Pickles asked. The questions were safe.

Charles seemed even more unsure of himself. It took a few moments of silence before he could come up with an answer, “I just wanted to see you, tonight, ah, if it’s okay.” 

“Oh, okay then. You wanna sit down?” He hadn’t expected such an answer from him. Maybe he had expected for him to yell at him over something he did or whatever. Not that Charles would go yell at him at 1 in the morning for but he had expected that day to come.

Charles sat down next to him on his bed without another word. Up close, he could see how different Charles looked. There were bags under his eyes from lack of sleep and even his skin seemed just a bit paler than usual. Pickles worried slightly about him and almost out of habit, reached up to touch his forehead. 

Charles tried to stop him but he was too late. 

“Christ, you’re cold. You’re getting sick.” Pickles spoke up. He didn’t even remember the last time a person actually felt cold and they turned out sick. Maybe it was just how he was and he never noticed? No, he got sick before and he definitely had high fevers, runny noses, and all that fun stuff. This was different. It felt different.

“I’m not getting sick, Pickles.” Was all Charles managed to say. Maybe coming here was a mistake.

“Then why are you cold?” 

“The AC in my office was broken.”

Pickles laughed, “God, you’re a terrible liar. At least take my blanket; I don’t want you dying of hypothermia.”

Pickles grabbed the blanket from behind him and wrapped it around his shoulders. It was actually clean for once considering how doing laundry was one of the things he began doing to keep his mind occupied. He grabbed an unopened can of beer and offered it to him. It was actually decent quality this time which was probably why Charles accepted it. 

Charles opened it and took a sip. It felt warm going down his throat and the taste was decent, “Am I keeping you up?”

“No, not at all. It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep, anyway.” Pickles answered, “But you need to sleep though. No offense, but you look like shit. Can’t you take a day off or somethin’?”

“I ah can’t. Still have a lot of work to make up for. I’ll be fine. I didn’t come here for me, though. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“About what?”

“I can’t explain a lot about what happened and how I came back. And I’m sorry, you and the boys deserve to know but now’s not the right time. But for you, I can explain that I really did think a lot about you while I was gone. It’s really taken me being dead and revived to realize that. And I know what I said before, about us, but I can’t bring myself to keep things so unresolved between us.”  Especially with how short the time we have left. He wanted to say but kept that to himself.

Honestly, Pickles had to make sure he didn’t get wasted already. Nope, completely drunk. Besides, when Charles was drunk, he didn’t have to try and read between the lines to understand what he’s saying. Though, being friends with someone for so many years got him able to at least understand what he’s saying most of the time. He almost didn’t want to believe what he was saying though.

“I-So you’re sayin’ you wanna date? Is that what you’re tryin’ to tell me?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s an easier way of summarizing that. I know it’s not professional of me but I realize now that I shouldn’t let professionalism get in the way of relationships if I feel so strongly towards someone. And I do feel strongly about you. I’m just so sorry it’s taken me so long and made me die to realize I shouldn’t have done that.”

Pickles could feel his face flush and his heart beat probably faster than all their songs’ combined BPM. It wasn’t a conversation he could imagine having at 1 AM with a Charles who seemed so exhausted and somehow different. But then again, he didn’t expect for him to die and even come back. Maybe dying and then coming back changes your perspective on things you once held with a high regard. Or maybe it was just how life worked.

He leans closer to him. His voice was soft, as if waiting for this to be some kind of test that he would inevitably fail.  “I could’ve waited. I didn’t mind.”

“You waited long enough.” Charles answers and leans in closer to kiss him. Warm lips were against cold lips but it somehow felt like it melded so perfectly together. God, they were really waiting far too long for this.

Pickles had to pull away to be able to breathe. He looks up at Charles, tears almost threatening to form as he hugged him tightly, “I really missed you, Charlie.”

“I’ve missed you too, Pickles.” He wraps his arms around him, holding him tightly.

Pickles could swear Charles muttered something, but he didn’t hear. He didn’t care. There was something so nice about the fact that his 9 months’ worth of grieving didn’t feel so entirely wasted. Those constant years of always feeling the same way towards him somehow felt worth it, even when Charles put on the damn suit and said their unresolved relationship had to be put on hold.

He convinced Charles to sleep with him tonight, helping him take off his clothing until there was nothing else but his boxers on. He rested his head on his chest, feeling Charles wrap an arm around him. His skin was still cold and Pickles had some uncomfortable feeling it would remain cold for a while. He supposed that would be something to deal with in the morning much like having to tell his band mates about their new relationship.

Pickles could feel Charles slowly drift off, probably for the first time in such a long time. And with some weight off his shoulders, he slowly drifts off as well.He doesn’t ask about why he doesn’t hear his heartbeat. Some questions are best left unanswered. 

[taeguboi]

BTS as... Rockers

Ngl, I panicked a little when I checked on the masterlist because an older post about BTS as rock band members was labelled as this title and I’d already written this one for like 3 members already. There’s various genres I mention, some of which are also metal and pop but I thought a simple general title would be best here.

Anyways, my second post coming back recently. Hope you enjoy.

RM

Mainly a classics man

Loves to analyse lyrics

and loves writing his own lyrics based on his current favourites

It’s like a form of literature to him

Loves to chill out to prog and psychedelic rock

Accidentally had the same music tastes as that weird geography teacher in school

Probably has a pet named after a member of a power / symphonic metal band

sorry I’m a bit of a Nightwish nerd and now I can just imagine him calling for his dog “Floor!” and everyone getting confused because they think he’s just shouting at the ground

this is the kind of genre he likes the most other than classic rock; that’s where the most literature references are. It’s poetry about poetry

Has a journal of art and lyrics quotes for when he’s super into a song

Could be mistaken for a geek in school 

because to a juvenile ear, his taste in music might be challenging to listen to

like no one else had the patience aged 12 to listen to a 9 minute song or an instrumental track

and then even at 15/16, how many people your age would listen to Dark Side Of The Moon?

Guess he would say music is all about sitting back and listening and taking it in

Would love to be a songwriter for the right kind of singer

unfortunately though, he’s a bit of a loner

likes his own company too much

it’s probably the solitude that motivates him to write 

too many more friends than he already has would be too much of a distraction

It’s not a sad situation though

music is what Namjoon loves the most

and “nothing else matters”

Oh yes, let’s have a bit of Metallica in there too

It’s not until he finishes school that he becomes more in touch with what people in the current world of rock and metal like

discovered “Rollin’” by Limp Bizkit like WAY too many years after it came out

“Have you heard this ace song man?”

“yep... in 2004 dude”

“oh”

But he’s no ashamed or anything, no

He’s proud to be a fan of the bands he likes

even if they aren’t to everyone’s tastes

“Well, sorry if this isn’t some 3 minute long four chord song repeating the same 5 words”

If they don’t appreciate it, their loss

Jin

The old ones are the best ones

Think 50s rock n’ roll; Little Richard, Elvis, and so on

mixed with guilty pleasures of songs about ‘my baby girl’

Loves themed music nights

Whilst of course his favourites are the 50s themed ones

he also loves showing up to 60s nights to flaunt the flower power

or 80s nights in a fun wig as some member of a hair metal band

all the styles are very fun

but on a daily basis, he’s basically dresses like a teddy boy

tight trousers with white socks peaking out

jacket - sometimes a suit jacket, sometimes denim

as you can imagine, when a lot of this stuff comes back in fashion...

“Well, I did it first...”

you know, in this era he means he did it first

Loves a good finger clicker song

Once considered doing a tribute act around pubs and clubs

but he couldn’t decide who he wanted to be

Probably should take a role in some live production of Grease

he’s seen it enough times

and he can sing

He reckons he could never do theatre for long though

his fantasies are with playing instruments to perform

talented keyboard player

starting to get the hang of guitar too

but he does get carried away whilst trying to learn guitar

because he wants to add on all the cool moves NOW

He’s got some bangers he created on the keyboard though

he didn’t really intend to create original songs

it just happened one day after a break up

and he listened to Heartbreak Hotel

too many times

he just sat at his keyboard

and made something that really felt special

and then the day after that, he made a more upbeat song

and the week after that, he has 4 full songs in total

Open mic nights become something he enjoys 

a bit of a local celebrity

“Would you play my grandma’s 80th party? Pleeeease?”

and aww bless him, he plays all the throwback songs at care homes

all free of charge

slips in some of his original music too

“Ooh, I’m afraid I don’t remember that one dear, must be my brain”

“Oh, no no no” explains Jin “I made it myself”

Old dears just love him basically

but so do the girls his age

Whilst some think the whole 50s get up is a bit lame

some go wild for it

because he dons all his outfits so well

and his songs feel so true to the era they were inspired by

you gain a love for the 50s just from watching Jin

Talented boy, keeping the 50s alive

Suga

A lot say Yoongi has an acquired taste

an electronic element to rock or metal always makes it more interesting to him

loves industrial music - NIN for days

Linkin Park made most of his jams

cried for half a day at the news of Chester no longer being with us

Likes a bit of new wave, synthpop, all that

emo songs just help you through the bad times okay

Can equally enjoy a dub festival as much as a rock concert

some people think his taste is actually naff

but then they realise he also listens to the likes Foo Fighters or Sum 41

Plays like the same 30 songs on repeat

but his collection has so much more

He has some rock and blues for the road trip

he’s got your 70s singalongs for the party

Was briefly a DJ at a rock bar

got fired for not playing enough popular songs in his set

“wtf I thought this was a bar where people could appreciate this” huffs Yoongi

“yes but people want to sing to ‘down with the sickness’ or something, not ‘down in the park’!”

“stuff you then, I’ll take Gary somewhere else with me”

guilty pleasure: Kate Bush

A somewhat gothic sense of style

but not overwhelmingly gothic

He likes bandannas and black clothes

not always in black clothes though

sometimes the merch he wants just isn’t available in black

but no worries

as long as he can happily flaunt the music that makes him who he is

J-Hope

Can listen to any rock genre

give him something and he probably already loves it

So yeah, the band members are pretty cool and all that

but what Hoseok has more interest in the backstage roles

he’d love to manage a rock band

be a tour manager

guitar tech

Much knowledge is stored in that brain of his

and he wants to put it to good use

He starts out as a promoter and organiser for the rock bar in town

which he eventually lives above 

His events are ace

he can pick out fresh talent that everyone on that scene can enjoy

His showcase nights are the place to be

everyone can agree, he’s got amazing taste

no one can disagree with him

He’s a one man show and still managed to pull it off

he’s the promoter, the sound guy, the tech on all the instruments

way more professional than most other local music events

He takes pride in his work

did I mention he’s so good, it becomes a full time job?

As time goes by, he listens to less and less older music

but that’s okay

he’s happy with the time it takes to listen to all the up and coming bands

in the moment is where you should live

and he can still appreciate a band’s influences should they initiate conversation

“man, this dude really knows his stuff”

“will you manage our next tour?”

“can you do sound at our next gig? our guy’s rubbish”

and that one is like right in front of their current sound guy

The future is bright for Hoseok

his love for rock music could really earn him a solid living

Jimin

Some say he’s a bit of a poser in his leather jacket

but he really does love his rock music

Sometimes a bit behind on modern rock bands or releases

Low key wishes he was born in the 50s / 60s 

just so he could live in his favourite eras

his heart really lies with the classics

60s, 70s, 80s.

90s at a push

not the later 90s where grunge bands did pop

ew

actually any movie made in that time makes him cringe

like he’s all up for good clean fun

but christ it’s like they were trying to go back to the 50s or something

not everything is ‘swell’ you know

Don’t get him wrong though

he does also like some 50s music

He may or may not have spent that one time acting like Elvis in the mirror

it really hyped him up before a night out though

it may or may not have become a thing before going out in the evenings to boost his confidence

His all time favourite bands have to be The Rolling Stones and AC/DC

and no, he couldn’t pick between the two, ever

Doesn’t really have a desire to be in a band

but sort of accidentally picks up the bass to help out a mate in a band

and sort of accidentally becomes a permanent member

It’s just a cover band

but it’s so much fun

Sometimes, you can have a really bad day

and then listening to 23 people singing “I Love Rock n Roll”

kind of lifts your mood

“Play Wonderwall!”

gets a bit annoying to him

kind of wants to hit that one guy around the head with his bass

but he holds back

Because being aggressive wouldn’t be very rock of him

and whilst he does like punk music

he’s definitely not a punk

Screw all that political rubbish

music should be to enjoy yourself with

stop worrying about the world for one minute and

let’s sing about whiskey and cigarettes and just living life

“What do you MEAN you don’t know any Def Leppard songs?”

“For crying out loud!”

He tries to understand that not everyone will listen what the music he likes

“but... like seriously, how can you not though?”

V

Probably likes all the underrated bands

Loves vinyl

definitely collects vinyls

Likes to shop at vintage stores to fulfil his obscure taste

People are like “you paid £60 just for that?”

but to Tae, it’s worth every penny

He likes the classics too

he can sing along in a rock bar to all the well known tunes

old or modern

and there may be loads in his vinyl collection barely anyone recognises

but there’s some more familiar faces too

there’s The Beatles, Guns n’ Roses, Foo Fighters, anything like that

it’s just only like 20% of his huge collection

Whilst his style is inspired by those he idolises...

he can never copy them

that would be an insult to them and his originality

Plays guitar and writes songs

never anything soppy though

actually fairly hesitant to pick up an acoustic guitar

always plays electric

and the songs he makes are about having a good time, life experiences

but not about love

He can listen to a couple of cheesy tracks

he just won’t make any

“Who the heck is John Otway, Tae?”

“Oh, you know, Wild Willy Barrat”

“Willy who?”

“Cor baby, that’s really free!”

“....”

“Headbutts! da da da da da... Headbuttttsssss”

I feel like rocker V loves anything that feels slightly random

probably make his own secret songs that sound silly to others

Probably has a band that never gigs

it’s him singing and playing guitar

and a bassist and drummer that aren’t really sure why they’re here

but they kind of like the unique stuff he does

and the band is almost purposely bad

“It’s the imperfections that really give a song character”

Jungkook

Modern rock and metal

low key emo

Tears Don’t Fall by BFMV on repeat aged 14, his first break up

Lives for festivals

like when he goes to work, that is what he is earning money for

well, that and bills and food

has a jar for each festival he wants to go to this year

Also loves a bit of melodic punk

like when that one Australian band are finally coming to his country

he HAS to go

help me I’m really sad because this is me and The Decline were supposed to be coming to the UK and then this pandemic happened and now I might never see them criii

Has a playlist for every aspect of life

every feeling, every colour, every occasion

songs that remind him of a time, ones where he can visualise a colour...

many people don’t get it

“how many playlists?”

“how can a song be a colour?”

it just is

like come on, listen to this Red Jumpsuit Apparatus song 

and tell him this doesn’t remind you of gold

Could be a journalist

knows everything and anything about his favourite bands

AVENGED SEVENFOLD

because it’s the perfect mixture of everything he loves about music

vests because M.Shadows

So badly wants to be in a band

tries every instrument you could find in a typical rock band

loves the drums

gets stuck on guitar though in his first band

well, he was just desperate to go gigging

he left after a year and a bit though

got boring

forms his own band instead around him being on the drums

Lives for this band

it’s like a rock band but with political lyrics

and they can perform at most events

they just fit any bill

gigs are booked almost every weekend

road trip with the lads

they travel like 50 miles just to be paid in beer only

Dreams of big time collaborations

that will probably never happen and he knows that

but it’s nice to dream, right?

puts on his own gigs a few years down the line

of course his own band are always on the bill

everyone thinks his gigs are a hoot

He even manages to book some lesser known punk bands 

but they are a massive deal to him

“God, I love live music!”

“Do you always wear a black shirt guk?”

“Hey, I’m a drummer! It’s hard work; a lot of sweat involved... I’m sure no one wants to see my wet pits whilst trying to enjoy the show”

and then that person wishes they never asked...

but he’s right

he knows that a good band is all about the hard graft and work

and he is always so thankful for the great rock bands that influence him

[asimpletroll]

Of the Second Star/Chapter One

??? POV When I hear the branches rustle, I almost don't recognize the fact that it signals approach. Then my paranoia kicks in, and I roll over quickly- -and wind up knocking foreheads with a ten-year-old boy. “Ow!” We yelp in sync, I jerk back, then yelp in pain again as I get tangled up in the thorny branches of whatever bush has taken over my bed. “Stop moving! Stop!” I freeze at his first word, but the thorns currently embedded in my cheekbone really suggest that I belay that. “My name is Henry, Pan kidnapped me, I don't know how you got here or how you've survived in a Dreamshade bush for so long, but if you keep moving, you'll kill us both!” “How?” I ask, my voice hoarse, he makes a small noise, I see him shift his head, I realize he didn't quite catch on. “How could I kill us? This bush is impaling me in so many places I can't move. Hell, I haven't moved in years, literal years, Henry. I...I can't even see when it's day or night anymore, this bush is so dense.” “What do you mean it's 'impaling you'?! Dreamshade is deadly! It's poisonous! How would you be alive?” “You're what? Ten? You're too inexperienced to be classifying plants correctly a hundred percent of the time! Now, crawl in here! You mentioned a kidnapper?” Henry stays still, crouching by the side of my bed, “What are you waiting for? The sheets are dirty, but you must be too from crawling under those – WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING HENRY?” Henry ducks back down, I hear the branches rustle slightly, then muffled pounds against the ground that signal running feet. I roll my eyes at the stubbornness that is apparently ingrained into all humans and blossoms brashly upon becoming ten. I spend a long time wiggling uncomfortably like I usually do and worryingly like I used to do, which is worrying in itself. I chew on my cracked lips, uproot the flora growing on my hands by clenching and unclenching them repeatedly, I move my feet up and down, uprooting more of the undergrowth growing on me, and I wiggle under the constraints of the white, glow-in-the-dark, flowering plants that grow on my chest, all while getting repeatedly jabbed and stabbed and impaled by thorns that drip with possibly poisonous sap. Then I hear multiple pairs of running feet. “BUSH GIRL! BUSH GIRL!” Christ, I forgot to introduce myself. Nice going, idiot. “I'M ASTARA! I'M IN THE THORNY BUSH WITH DARK BERRIES THAT HAS CHOKED UNDERGROWTH UNDERNEATH IT!” It takes me a minute to remember how to gather the air into my lungs to scream, but once I do, it comes blasting out like a siren. “HENRY, PLEASE BE CAREFUL!” “WE WILL BE!” He screams back as they all come sliding to a stop. I hear mildly deeper voices talking to him outside the bush, and straining my head to the side, my ears feel like rubber bands as I focus and focus on the voices but, like I've been saying, the bush is dense. It's impossible to make out words, I only manage to make out that there are two older boys, both of them are alarmed, and both of them… No… Can’t focus on that. Henry is pleading with them, they're scrambling madly, they are all clueless as to what to do in this situation. I remain tense in my bush, lying as still as I can so that the thorns stop tearing my skin, something is tickling at the back of my mind the more they worry. “Machete!” I finally remember and yelp, jumping for the opposite side of my bed, then cursing violently as the thorns ruthlessly do their job and tear my skin to shreds. “WHAT'S GOING ON?” A boy with a dark voice filled with authority barks (alarm bells ring in my head, and I can’t help but remember Henry mentioning that he was kidnapped) I continue to curse as I try to rearrange the thorns into a less-agonizing position, but it's a dense bush weighing down on me. There is no negotiation for 'less-agonizing'. “I'M BEING STUPID IS ALL! I REMEMBERED I HAVE A MACHETE IN MY BACKPACK ON THE OTHER SIDE OF MY BED AND MOVED TO GET IT, BUT THE THORNS STOPPED ME BECAUSE...WELL. I'M ASSUMING YOU'RE NOT BLIND OR DUMB.” “YOU'RE ASSUMPTIONS WOULD BE CORRECT.” “IS ANYONE OUT THERE SMALL ENOUGH TO REACH UNDER THE BUSH ON THAT SIDE AND PUSH MY BACKPACK TO ME?-” “NO NEED. WE'LL FREE YOU.” It takes every fiber of my being to not start yelling at this guy right here and now. Regardless of the fact that he’s rescuing me. I may be the one trapped, but I can help! I huff as they go back to talking, I recognize the sound of Henry’s feet as he runs around the bush. He slides to a stop on the other side, then scrambles under the brambles, I hear him grab my backpack. “Henry!” I hiss sharply, “Yeah?” He pauses, “The one who’s talked with me, is he the one that kidnapped you?” “Yes, his name’s Pan. He’s really dangerous and really powerful.” “Once I’m outta here, you are to not leave my side, got it? I don’t look it, but I’m easily as dangerous as a trained soldier, if not more so.” “Pan is worse.” Henry scrambles out before I can reply, dragging my backpack with him, I turn my head back around. I warily focus on this ‘Pan’ boy, I could tell he was dangerous before, and there is still more pressing matters (getting out of the bush to protect Henry) but he does hold a dark aura to him. I’m snapped back to the outside of my head by the sounds of the boys talking, the third one seems disgruntled, Pan seems confused, and Henry is insistent. “WHAT’S WRONG, GUYS?” “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS HANDLE MADE OF?” The third guy asks I snort in amusement, “PLASTIC, BUT IT BROKE SO I COVERED IT IN TAPE!” I call back, this seems to confuse him more, annoy Pan, and entertain Henry. “DO YOU GUYS NOT KNOW WHAT PLASTIC OR TAPE IS?” “YES WE DO!” Came the very fast, very angry, very chorused yell from the both of them, I hear Henry giggle as I bite my bottom lip and smile at the stubbornness of these (now very obviously), teenage boys. Some more chatting ensues, then there some shredding sounds. I immediately get slightly worried about the clothes that I have in my backpack. “OKAY ASTARA, WE’VE SHREDDED MY SHIRT AND FELIX'S CLOAK TO MAKE A PAIR OF GLOVES FOR HIM TO USE WHILE CARVING A HOLE INTO THE BUSH! ANYTHING WE SHOULD KNOW ABOUT?” “NOT UNLESS YOU’RE SCARED OF FLOWERS!” “OH! I’M RIGHTFULLY TERRIFIED NOW!” Felix (even if I don’t think they’re doing this outta the goodness of their hearts, it’s nice to know their names) calls back sarcastically, I let a small laugh bubble out, then try to stop it with my hand and just wind up hurting myself more as the brambles dig into my wrists, forearms, elbows, biceps, and shoulders more. As the small tears of pain leak down my cheeks, I hear Felix start to hack at the brambles. I settle deeper into the mold, mildew, and dirt, staring at the ruffled flowers on my chest as they rise and fall in time with my breathing. I relax like that for a while until I can stop the tears and the darkness starts to turn to the dimness. I turn and watch as a towering figure that must be Felix slowly become visible as more of the vines are cut free and dropped, I wiggle and squirm as much as I can, knocking more dirt loose, upsetting more foliage, and hopefully revealing some of the vines that hold me in place. After about two hours (not including breaks, everyone needs those) Felix pulls the last of the vines down, the sun putting a halo around his head and body and effectively blinding me as I squirm there. “Henry mentioned that you said you were impaled?” Felix asks I nod my head, my face too scrunched up from the light to properly speak. He makes a noise that could pass for a soft (and highly unused) laugh, then he gently begins to feel my arm. He quickly cuts away the vines, then starts to cut a path down to my legs. I hesitantly move my arm, feeling thorns still embedded in my skin, but Felix got all of the vines off me. I breathe slowly and gently grab the rest of the foliage on my chest, but it slides through my fingers, lifts itself off me, and throws itself on the ground. A golden hand wraps itself around my pale one as the dirt shakes itself off me like an earthquake is going on. “Hey, don’t move just quite yet, this is Dreamshade, love, this is deadly,” Pan tells me, I let out a deep breath, “By the gods, is this wrapped around your chest too? How long have you been like this?” “This should be impossible.” He mumbles under his breath, I try to look at him, but all I see is a halo and a shadow, I squeeze his hand and hiss as one of the vines tighten. “Sorry, sorry,-” Felix worries, “Felix, be careful!” Pan hisses, “It’s okay! Just caught me off guard, I’m fine, it’s fine, Felix, you’re doing great.” I babble hurriedly, two smaller hands quickly tangle themselves in my hair. “Henry, I’m fine, really, it just hit that I’m finally about to be able to walk, maybe climb a tree, - a bath, however, is definitely coming first.” “Probably a good idea,” Henry says, uprooting something in my hair, he pauses to show me the flower, then throws it behind him casually. I snicker quietly at him, Felix gently grabs my wrist, and I relax in order to let him move my arm easier, he simply pulls it to his chest and starts to carefully cut at the Dreamshade on my torso. “I’m surprised you’re not freaking out Astara, even though I’m only ten, I can tell Pan’s a pretty cute fifteen-year-old and he’s shirtless-” “Wow, haven’t even properly seen me yet and you’re trying to set me up.” My voice comes out a few pitches higher than normal and much faster than usual as Pan yells wordless and Felix almost stabs me while letting out a loud laugh. “I’M JUST SAYING!” Henry cries out indignantly, Felix almost collapses and dies of guffaws right there, I can sense Pan fuming, and I’m pretty sure my face is scarlet. “Besides, I can see you properly, you kinda look like my mom and grandma mixed together…with a lot of dirt.” “Obviously with a lot of dirt,” I grumble, but take the compliment by dropping Pan’s hand and gently brushing my dirt- and blood-covered knuckles across Henry’s cheek before dropping my hand back into Pan’s grip. Pan jumps slightly in surprise, causing Felix to keep giggling as he cautiously pulls the vines out of my chest and stomach. “This last vine I’m not letting you get, Felix.” “And why not?” Felix’s voice darkens slightly, but his body language screams ‘worried’ at the top of its lungs. “Well, unless you want to go ferreting under my breasts-” “All yours.” Felix quickly shoves my machete into my hands as Pan snickers and Henry giggles at us. “Pan, would you please-” “‘Course.” Pan and Felix leave and Henry turns around as I quickly cut the vine off and gently pull it out of me, having to hold my breasts practically on my throat to do so. I quickly pull the thorns out from under my breasts also, hissing curses so foul, I’m surprised the sky didn’t become bluer. “i’M rIgHt HeRe!” Henry wails in horror, Felix and Pan, however, are begrudgingly complimenting me. “Sorry, Hen-SON OF A-” My wrist brushes something tender that throws lightning curveballs through both my right breast and that side of my chest. I grab that area and curl up on that side of my body as two obvious thumps combined with two distinct laughs tells me all I need to know about Pan and Felix’s reactions (both of which are dying of laughter.) Henry’s small hands gently grab onto my face, I gently uncurl one hand and pat his shoulder, “Just a thorn, buddy, I’m fine. I’m totally fine.” “Are you sure?” Henry worries, “If she can curse that well, I’d say she’s bloody great!” Pan laughs out before I answer, “Henry, will you please clock Pan upside the head for me? I’m ashamed that I said that while you were in earshot.” “But were you ashamed of saying it?” Felix attempts to control his laughter, then lets out something that sounds an awful lot like a giggle and collapses on the ground with a wild bark of entertainment. I turn red, Henry twists around to glare at Felix, I take the opportunity to grip what little of the thorn is left out of my skin and yank it out, exhaling deeply and (thankfully) wordlessly this time. I quickly throw it into the bush curling my knees up as I start to push myself up, Henry immediately starts protesting. “Hey hey hey, are you sure you should be sitting up? You’re oozing a lot of blood and-” “And I’ll be fine-HEY!” Muscular arms wrap around me, and I’m lifted above Henry’s head before being settled into a clothed chest. I huff at Felix as my hair strings out behind me, longer, heavier, and darker than I remember, but about what I expected. He smirks as Pan comes up behind us, a bundle of rags in a ball in one arm, and my backpack slung over his shoulder. “Henry, think you can carry her machete?” Pan asks, “I’m fine with walking,” I grumble under my breath, Felix lets out that soft might-be-a-laugh noise as Henry fetches my machete, and then we turn to a dark treeline and vanish into it.

[valentines-in-london]

I Need Fire (Part 17)

Authors Note:  Wow the feedback on the last chapter was so overwhelmingly positive!  I was excited and equally nervous to post that chapter so thank you all so much for the feedback!!!  As always comments, asks and replies are ALWAYS welcome, good or bad :) Word Count: 3,418 Warnings: angst, lots and lots of angst Taglist:   @freddiessmallnipples @triplehaitches @samanthadegaro @lauravic @oh-well1 @la-sorciere-fleur @anxious-diabetic @xdeath-soulx If you’d like to be added please let me know!

Previous Chapter  //  Master List  //  Next Chapter

Chapter 17

“Alright everyone listen up.  Here’s the deal, Vince is going to go away for thirty days…” Doc began his explanation in a sterile boardroom with the members of Motley Crue.  It had been about a week since the accident, and Vince was in jail.

“Thirty days?”  Nikki spoke up interrupting.

“Thirty days, five years probation, two hundred community service hours and a big lump of cash.  That’s the sentence.”  Doc finished.  “He got off easy, really easy.  Vehicular manslaughter is no small thing and neither is driving under the influence.  You nut jobs can do whatever you want but you should thank your lucky stars that your lead singer is able to stay in this band.”

“So five years probation what does that mean?”  Mick asked crossing his arms over his chest.

“No drugs and no booze.  The court will regularly be testing him and he has to make his meetings. He’ll be able to tour still but management will work out schedules with anything revolving around Vince’s legal matters.”  Doc confirmed.

“Jesus Christ.  It’s like we’re fucking chained down.”  Nikki shook his head.

“We’re not chained down Sixx, Doc just said almost nothing changes for us as a band.  Vinny is gonna be chained down.”  Tommy corrected Nikki who heavily sighed.  

“What a fucking asshole.”  Nikki rolled his eyes.

“How is he an asshole?  I’m sure he didn’t want to kill Razzle, Nikki.  And let’s not forget my fucking girlfriend was in that car too.” Tommy started to raise his voice to his best friend. “Stop being a selfish prick.”

“Oh I’m selfish?  We wouldn’t be in this situation if you didn’t want everything to be perfect for your dumb ass proposal.”  Nikki mocked Tommy who was progressively getting more and more heated.  Tommy took two long strides toward Nikki getting right in his face.

“Guys, guys!  Chill the fuck out.”  Doc barked at the two men who towered over him.  “The last thing we need is you guys at each others throats. This band is now a business so grow the fuck up and learn to respect each other.”

Nikki took a step back from Tommy who was still shooting daggers at the bass player.  “Are we done here?”

“Yeah we’re done.”  Doc confirmed and Tommy quickly exited the room slamming the door behind him as he made his way out.  Tommy jumped in his car and began driving back to his home.  He probably shouldn’t have exploded on Nikki back at Doc’s office but sometimes Nikki could be a complete asshole. Tommy didn’t need someone else reminding him if he didn’t want his fucking proposal to be perfect Rayne wouldn’t have been in the car.  Fuck maybe if Tommy didn’t ask Vince to take Rayne for a car ride Razzle wouldn’t have wanted to come and he’d be alive too.  Tommy knew he was going back to an empty house and Rayne would be at the office with Stanley.  Even if she was home it would feel a little empty.  He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly but something was definitely up with his girlfriend.

Meanwhile…

Rayne stood in front of Stanley stoic in a colorful structured stoned gown.  Stanley pinned the dress in various spots to completely tailor it to her body.  It was one of the main garments he wanted featured in the show. "Bella, it's like the light in your eyes has been extinguished.  What is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong.  I don't want to talk about it Stanley."  Rayne said defiantly looking down at him from where she stood on the pedal stool. After the accident Rayne didn’t take a day off work, in fact she threw herself more into work.  She and Stanley had been working non-stop to get garments ready for the show and get models in for their fittings.

"I'm here if there ever is something that you would like to talk about."  He reassured her while she remained silent.  "If you need to take time after the accident you certainly…"

"Stanley I want to work, I don't need time off.  Okay?"

"Okay, then we will work."  Stanley finished pinning the cloth in place it was officially ready for alterations.

Later that afternoon Jo had stopped by the studio, Rayne had asked her to stop by for lunch.  Jo's life wasn't all exactly sunshine and rainbows either with Vince in jail. "Just the fiery red head I wanted to see."

Rayne smiled at her best friend getting up from behind her desk and embracing her in a tight hug.  Rayne quickly broke away to reach for her purse and the two headed out the door. The two silently walked down the street to a restaurant, Rayne's arm around Jo's shoulder in comfort.  When they sat down Rayne broke the silence. "Are you okay?"

Jo tearfully nodded her head.  Before whispering, "As okay as I can be.  I went to see him today."

"How is he?"

"He's handling it as good as can be expected.  His lawyer said he'll probably only serve fifteen days if he behaves himself."  A hint of a smile played on Jo's lips.  "They basically have him in the equivalent of a hotel room so I have no doubt he'll be out soon. The press is so cruel though. They're calling him a murderer. And he's not, he didn't mean to kill Razzle that night.  He feels awful."

"I know that."  Rayne said sadly knowing that Razzle wasn't the only thing lost that night.  Once the waitress came over to take their orders Jo spoke up.

"So anyway, how are you feeling?  You were in the car that night too."  Jo said somberly.  Rayne shrugged her shoulders in reply stating into her coffee cup.  She felt like she'd had a heavy weight just sitting on her shoulders since she received the news that night.  "Ray, I can tell something is bothering you. What's up?"

Shaking her head Rayne felt herself begin to cry.  "I can't talk about it, not here."

"Where can you talk about it?"  Jo asked concerned.  "Does this have anything to do with Tommy?"

"No!  God no.  Tommy is absolutely perfect.  It's entirely to do with me." Rayne said sadly.  

"Do you want to spend the night at my house and we can talk about whatever it is?"  Jo asked and Rayne nodded accepting the invitation.

When she got home after work Rayne walked up the stairs to her bedroom to begin packing a bag.  As she walked up the stairs she saw Tommy come into the house from outside. "I thought I heard you come in.  How was your day?"

"Fine."  Rayne said before entering their bedroom.  As she started packing Tommy came in behind her.

"Where are you going?"   Tommy's voice dripping with concern as he leaned against the door frame watching his girlfriend pack.

"Jo asked me to spend the night at her place.  She's having a rough time with Vince being gone."  It was only a half lie.  That's how she justified it.

"Oh.  Okay." Tommy tried to hide his disappointment, but Rayne immediately caught it.

"Is that a problem?"  Rayne asked looking up from her bag.

"No."  Tommy replied quickly. "I just was hoping to spend some time with you."

Rayne felt Tommy approach her from behind, he gently rested his hands on her shoulders, giving the crown of her head a kiss.  "I feel like I'm losing you baby."

"You're not losing me Tommy.  I'm just going to my friends house for the night."  Rayne turned her head slightly.

"Okay."  Tommy sighed taking a step back from her.  "I'll see you when you get back."

Rayne heard his footsteps get further from the room and she took the opportunity to sit down on their bed and cradle her head in her hands.  She was without a doubt pushing him away and she felt terrible about it. With a sigh Rayne zipped up her bag and threw the duffle over her shoulder and left for Jo's.

When she arrived Rayne she heard her best friend shuffling in the kitchen.  The sound alone was shocking to Rayne, her best friend was certainly not known for her skills in the kitchen.  Making her way over she saw Jo in a pair of PJ's pulling a pan out of the oven. Rayne waited until she put the pan down to speak, "Don't freak out it's just me."

Jo jumped at the sound of her voice.  Holding her hand over her heart she sighed, "Too late."

Rayne let out a small chuckle, “Sorry Jo.  At least I waited until you weren’t holding the hot pan.  What are you doing anyway?”

“Well I think we both know that I’m not the best cook in the world, but I can bake.  So I made us some brownies.”  Jo smiled waving her hands over the cooking pan.

“Normal brownies?”  Rayne lifted her eyebrow.  She thought back to when Jo made special brownies one night when they had first moved in together.  Rayne was a giggling mess and Jo just was quietly sitting on the couch for three hours.

“Of course normal brownies!”  Jo feigned being offended.  “Now come on, lets let these cool and go sit down in the living room and talk.”

When they entered the living room both Rayne and Jo collapsed onto the soft cushions.  Rayne grabbed a pillow and hugged it close to her chest pulling her legs up. Jo put her hand lightly on Rayne’s shoulder.  “What’s going on babes?”

Rayne took a deep breath picking a spot on the floor to stare at. Maybe it would make saying the words easier if she didn’t have to look Jo in the eyes as she said it. “Well, I, I don’t even know where to start…” Rayne drifted off while Jo stayed silent and let Rayne say it on her own time.  “The night of the accident, I-I woke up in the hospital.  I started freaking out, in a total daze.  Then the nurse came in.”  The tears started to threaten.  “She started to calm me down and I asked if Vince and Razzle were okay.  That’s when I got the news about Razzle.”

Rayne paused before she got the courage to speak the next part out loud.  “I was just shocked, and then the nurse she, well, she told me Razzle wasn’t the only one that died.”

“Rayne?  I don’t understand, everyone else survi-“

“I was pregnant.”  Turns out staring at a specific spot on the floor didn’t help.  It didn’t make it any easier to say.  

“Rayne.”  Jo said in a choked gasp before wrapping her best friend up in a comforting embrace.  “Oh Rayne. How?  I didn’t know you and Tommy were trying.”

“We weren’t.”  Rayne said grasping onto the back of Jo’s t-shirt continuing to speak between sobs.  “The nurse told me that because I smoke, in rare situations, it can render birth control ineffective. And Tommy and I had a lot of unprotected sex.”

“Oh honey.”  Jo said sympathetically rocking her best friend back and forth.

“I feel like a complete failure.  You know about what happened to me as a kid and I feel like what I did was even worse.  I couldn’t even protect my baby in my belly.”

“Rayne you had no control over that.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that that is how I feel!” Rayne said raising her voice slightly, she didn’t want sympathy she wanted someone to listen to the words she was saying.  

“Okay, okay.”  Jo said calmly.  “It’s okay to be sad Rayne.  Tommy must be crushed.”

“Tommy doesn’t know.”  Rayne whispered.  “I can’t tell him.”

“What?  Rayne you can’t keep this from him.  He has a right to know honey.”

“I can’t.”  Rayne shook her head back and forth.

“Ray, I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, I’m here to listen.  But I think Tommy has a right to know.  That man loves you to his very core with every fiber of his being, trust me I’ve seen it first hand.  If I was with you for a few minutes today and saw something was wrong, I’m sure Tommy who you live with sees it too.”  Jo treaded lightly.  “And I’m sure he would do everything he possibly could to bring the light back to you.”

Rayne wiped the tears from her cheeks, “If we’re going to keep talking about this I’m gonna need that plate of brownies.”

Jo chuckled before getting up off the couch, “You’ve got it babe.”

Moments later Jo came in with a plate of square brownies, both women picked up a brownie and started munching on it.  “Why do you feel like you can’t tell Tommy?”

“Tommy and I have talked about children before.  I said I wasn’t ready for a good while, and Tommy accepted that but I know he wants a family.  So how could I tell him, ‘Hey, so remember how you wanted kids?  Well I was knocked up but got into a car with your best friend who got into a wreck and miscarried.’“

“Rayne, look, I-I probably shouldn’t even say this but, the night of the accident Tommy was going to propose to you.  He had this whole elaborate plan worked out and asked Vince to take you for a ride in the Pantera so he could set everything up.”  Jo told Rayne, and she was sure she could feel her heart breaking.  Rayne covered her mouth to keep the sobs in.  “So I’m sure Tommy feels responsible for the accident in some way. Ray, I really think you should talk to him.”

She couldn’t believe what Jo had just told her.  What a fucked up situation. In true Rayne fashion when she was upset she withdrew where as when Tommy was upset he only pulled Rayne closer.  She felt awful, she knew Tommy and she knew he was probably beating himself up for what happened the other night. "Would you hate me if I went home?"

"No!  I was hoping you would.  I think Tommy needs you more than I do."  Jo smiled over at Rayne.  Giving Jo a kiss on the cheek Rayne grabbed her duffle bag and left to head back home.

The Malibu house was dark and quiet when Rayne arrived home.  In all honesty Rayne didn't even know if Tommy was home.  She quietly climbed the steps towards their bedroom, pushing the door open smiling at Tommy's sleeping form.  Rayne put her duffle bag down and climbed in bed behind Tommy wrapping her arms around him. Her embrace caused him to stir, he turned toward her and opened his eyes frowning slightly. "I thought you were spending the night at Jo's?"

His voice was riddled with sleep which made Rayne smile softly before she leaned in giving him a light kiss on the lips.  "I was going to, but she made me see I should be here with you instead. Go back to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Mmm okay."  Tommy contently said turning back over allowing Rayne to hold him tight against her.  Placing a soft kiss on his shoulder Rayne whispered, "I love you."

The next morning Rayne woke up before Tommy she quickly slipped out of bed and headed down the stairs to make breakfast.  Rayne pulled out the ingredients she needed to make pancakes and a few slices of bacon. Within no time she was flipping pancakes over the griddle while bacon was sizzling in a pan next to that.  

"That smells amazing babe."  She heard a deep voice from behind her.  With a smile she turned to face Tommy, who stood before her shirtless in an unbuttoned pair of jeans with his hair a mess.

"Well I figured waking up to the smell of bacon would be a better wake up call than me doing it." Rayne smiled before flipping the last pancake over.

"I don't know about that."  Tommy smiled taking a few step closer to Rayne giving her a light kiss at the nape of her neck.  "Good morning."

"Good morning."  Rayne smiled.  "Here's a plate, grab some pancakes.  The bacon is almost finished too. Tommy fixed a plate for both himself and Rayne and walked over to the dining room to set everything down.  Rayne came in with a smile and a plate of bacon a few moments later.

The couple ate their breakfast in comfortable silence, once Tommy had finished his pancakes he started on his bacon and he also started talking.  "Now don't get me wrong I'm not complaining but, this is unexpected."

Rayne smiled softly.  "I'm sorry I've been awful since the accident."

"Baby you don't need to-"

"Yes, I do."  Rayne interrupted.  "I-I have to tell you something Tommy."

Tommy could hear the emotion in Rayne's voice and took the opportunity to get up from his chair and move it closer to her.  "What's up?"

Rayne took a deep breath.  No going back now. She took his hands in her own.  "Well have you noticed I haven't been smoking as much?"  Tommy nodded his head.  "Well, there's a reason for that. After the accident the nurse told me that smoking could make birth control ineffective…"

"Oh my god are you pregnant?"  Tommy asked with enthusiasm and a huge smile on his face.

"Tommy no!  I'm not pregnant," this was itRayne continued, "Not anymore."

"What?  I don't unders-"

"Tommy the nurse told me I was pregnant when I was in the hospital.  But I… I…" the tears came rolling in, she didn't think she had cried so much in her whole life as she had the past several days.  "I lost the baby after the accident."

Tommy's smile fell from his face and his grip loosened on Rayne's hand.  "I had no idea that I was pregnant Tommy.  Life had just been so crazy with the new job and you on the road.  And I thought everything was safe because I was on the pill."

He remained silent.  

"When she told me and it all sunk in I felt so empty.  I didn't want a baby Tommy, but hearing that our baby was growing inside of me and in an instant it was all taken away.  It had an effect on me I never would've expected."

Silence.  

"Tommy please say something." Rayne began to plead.  His silence was making her so uncomfortable.  He was always so expressive, to not know what he was thinking was not comforting.

"The morning after the accident. You didn't say anything."  He finally spoke.

"I couldn't.  I knew the news would crush you and I didn't want to do that.  I thought I could bare the pain on my own, but I couldn't." Rayne cried. "I know it's selfish of me."

"The day after the accident, I wanted to be there when the doctor came in the room so I knew what I needed to do to take care of you. But you and Vince talked me out of it.  That's why isn't it?  You didn't want me to know. Did Vince know?"  His words were practically dripping with ice.

"He did."  Rayne nodded crying.  "But only because the hospital staff thought he was my boyfriend.  I didn't tell him."

"Who else knows?" She could tell he was upset.

"Tommy…"

"WHO ELSE KNOWS RAYNE!?" Tommy shouted startling her.  Tommy had never raised his voice to her before.  This wasn’t good.

"Jo.  Jo knows.  That's all.  Tommy I know I should've told you.  I realize that now but I need you to understand I didn't want to hurt you."  Rayne pleaded.

"Well it looks like you failed at that too."  Tommy seethed getting up from the table and walking away.  His words merely echoed her inner thoughts, but to hear them from him made it hurt a hundred times worse.

"Tommy!  Tommy where are you going?"  Rayne heard him grab his keys and slam the front door.  Rushing out of the house Rayne watched him pull out of the garage. "Tommy!"  She screamed one final time but to no avail, he peeled out of the driveway and was off.

Rayne made her way back into the house, shutting the door before she collapsed in a heap of sobs on the floor.  This was the last thing she expected to happen and she regretted every choice she had made since the accident.  For the first time in years she felt completely powerless.

Take me to the next chapter....

---

I know, I know we’re still in angst mode.  And I know some of you wish it as fluffy and that’s why I added the little scene of Rayne being big spoon lol!!!  So what do we think?  How we feeling at this point?  What do we think will happen next?  Love you all!

[foxtophat]

HEY I’M REALLY GOING TO TRY AND GET THIS POSTED IN ITS ENTIRETY BY SOMETIME THIS YEAR. SO here’s the beginning, where Nick is Kanye and John is that water bottle he’s now responsible for.  no ships, no violence, just good old fashioned self-indulgent fix-it fic.

i love writing fix it fic, and i love the idea of john sitting in time out for 8 years, only to show back up in Nick and Kim’s life like a mangy street cat that just will not die. i wrote a lot of this from john’s pov, before i scrapped all of that and reworked it into this.

below the cut is the full text of the chapter, in case you don’t feel like going off-site. reblogs and likes mean the world to me!

2026

Nick isn't sure what to expect as he picks the trail out of the brush. That's sort of been the big theme of the apocalypse as he knows it. Between the super-bloom, the funky looking deer and the total decimation of everything he's ever known, Nick has been operating pretty exclusively on the fly. After eight years of monotony underground, the adventure is almost worth it, although he could do with some basic infrastructure like, you know, roads, gas, electricity, maybe a school so he and Kim don't have to be the ones to teach Carmina math and critical thinking and shit.

Either way, finding strange footprints in the woods is a pretty standard mystery, and Nick doesn't see why he shouldn't follow them. He doesn't even think to leave it alone — how could he? If there's somebody roughing it this close to home, Nick figures he might as well extend a friendly hand. Or at least make sure a crazy murder-hobo hasn't started lurking around the woods his daughter plays in. That's pretty unlikely , given the state of things, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

From all the games and movies Nick had digested growing up, he'd always figured that the nuclear wasteland would be either entirely uninhabited or infested with a population of power-hungry raiders looking to destroy everything in their wake. So far, though, most of the people he's come across have been pretty friendly. Wary as fuck, not really willing to share and definitely not interested in sticking around for long, but nobody's pulled a gun on the Ryes and their hospitality. As bad as Nick had thought living in the bunker had been, it's clear that surviving above ground had been much, much worse, and those who made it this far aren't in the habit of shooting generosity outright.

That's mostly what he's expecting as he follows the bootprints dug into the dirt. Strangers trying to get by in the lushness of Hope County, maybe people whose names he knows. Maybe even old friends who haven't reappeared yet. He expects a small camp, expects maybe he's going to have to negotiate with some new neighbors to keep the peace. There's plenty of land here for everyone, after all, and Nick isn't opposed to some friendly faces to rely on in hard times.

But Nick's luck has never worked out the way he expects it to. Instead of another family, a possible friend or even just a days-old campsite from some wanderer, Nick almost walks himself into an open bunker. He catches himself at the edge of the hatch, staring down into the darkness at the bottom of the ladder. It smells fucking terrible, like something up and shit itself to death down there, and now Nick is pretty sure he's going to find yet another goddamn corpse.

"Uh, hello?" Nick calls, unable to help himself. "Anybody... down there?"

There's no response.

Nick looks around, but the overgrowth is too thick here for him to keep following the tracks. Goddamn — falling to your death after surviving the nuclear holocaust? What a way to go.

It's only on his second look around that Nick catches sight of a scrap of yellow between the trees further ahead. It looks like fabric that's been stretched out over a branch, and as Nick approaches he starts to recognize it as nylon. Like a parachute, maybe? Shit, even if nobody's here, they could use that kind of sturdy fabric.

The parachute's in tatters, dragged through sharp tree-branches and the apocalypse alike. It's sort of like a... lean-to, maybe? Nick's not sure; whoever threw together this campsite was relying on instinct to build a decent shelter, not skill. There's a fire-pit in front of him that looks like it hasn't been burning for days now, and a crate of miscellaneous components, likely scavenged from wherever this parachute came from.

Nick goes to take the fabric down — one man's trash, right? — but he finds himself stopping cold as he catches sight of a corpse huddled under the lean-to. Jesus Christ , and here he was about to scrap the whole place! Talk about disrespectful! From the look of it, the guy who had camped out here must've starved to death — curled nearly fetal, visibly malnourished even fully clothed. Between the thick beard and the wild mane of brown hair, Nick can't see the body's face; all he can make out is a heavily scarred mess near where the guy's ear should be. It looks like it got melted off. Or maybe blasted off.

The body moves . The noise that accompanies it is something like a hiss, air wheezing sharply through tightly clenched teeth.

"Holy shit ," Nick gasps, dancing backwards in momentary terror before getting a fucking grip on himself. "Holy shit, buddy, you're alive ?"

In response, the corpse shudders like it's trying to rise, managing to twist enough in its spot that Nick can now make out a face to go with the rest of the body. There's something strikingly familiar about the bloodshot, glassy blue eyes, the thick beard, the tangled mass of brown hair...

The arm that had been hidden under the body has the sleeve rolled up to the elbow, and Nick can clearly make out ritualistic scars cross-hatched over tattoos that have faded after so long without any touch-ups. Nick stares uncomprehendingly at the damage, unable to think of a single person capable of so much torturous work. The hand curled in the dirt underneath has shiny scars over one of the knuckles, but Nick still recognizes the word EDEN even missing most of the N .

Nick's whole body jolts with a white-hot rush of terror. " Jesus, Christ! " he shouts, jerking away as if expecting a real bomb to drop on him.

It's John goddamn fucking Seed !

Nick raises his rifle before he's processed the situation, finger on the trigger and barrel pointed down at the body slumped in front of him. He almost pulls the trigger, too, wants to pull the trigger, but John is just lying there. He isn't moving, he's barely breathing, and Nick... he can't do it. God, he knows he should — but it's been eight years since he's had to shoot another human being. He doesn't want to break that streak, not even if John barely counts as human.

John smells like shit and looks like a goddamn murder-hobo. Coming close again, Nick can hear his breath rattling in his lungs. It isn't until Nick has the barrel of his rifle almost touching John's chest that the man's eyes drift towards the gun; even then, it doesn't look like he recognizes the danger he's in.

"Holy goddamn," Nick says, unable to help himself, "You look like shit ."

The noise John makes in return could be called a laugh, if Nick were feeling particularly charitable, but it's closer to a tired hiss. It flips his stomach, instincts deeper than reason keeping him glued to the spot while he slowly lowers his gun.

Shit. Shit! He would be doing the world a favor, eradicating this goddamn beast. This is the fucking monster who'd terrorized his family, tried to force him from his home, tortured him — he still carries the dark, thick band of a scar from where John literally fucking flayed him! This county spent years being subtly and then overtly terrorized by this shit and his family, and a quick execution is more than he deserves!

John is barely more than a corpse as it is. He was never meant to make it this long, and his survival is a testament to how little God cares about this miserable planet. Nick would be doing everyone a favor.

Nick listens to him wheeze, something rattling deep in his chest, and finds himself lowering the barrel, finger reluctantly pulling away from the trigger.

He calls himself all sorts of names as he moves into the shelter. Mostly, "Fuckin' idiot, goddamn fool," which doesn't stop him from acting like one at all but at least it makes him feel better.

John doesn't react as Nick crouches beside him; the most he does is close his eyes and try not to throw up as Nick struggles to prop him up. He struggles to swallow, gulping thickly against his dry throat. Nick pulls his canteen off of his belt and pushes it into John's shaking hands, but it's only when he helps bring it to his mouth that John actually drinks any water. He clutches at the metal and drinks desperately, greedily, and it makes Nick so fucking angry to see his relief that he rips the canteen away before John can get his fill. The guilt he feels immediately after is worse than the anger by leagues, but he's got no way to process that shit right now, so he'll stick with the more understandable outrage.

"I've got every right to leave you for the fuckin' wolves," he grunts, shoving the canteen back into John's hands. "I'd be doing the world a favor if I shot you right here myself."

Nick doesn't expect John's delirious nod in response. He doesn't know what to do with it. John Seed has too much goddamn pride to accept a miserable end like this. He's a self-centered narcissist who probably expected the whole cult thing to blow over in court — how can he lie here like a skeleton and let Nick talk about putting him down like a dog?

"Every fucking right," Nick repeats helplessly as the choice vanishes in front of him. John gasps as he pulls away from the canteen, swallowing thickly several times. He looks like he wants to speak, but he can't find the words. Well, good . At least something's going right in this post-apocalyptic nightmare.

Nick can't leave him here to die. He wants to, but the idea makes him sick to his stomach. The only person he can think of that might be able to stand dealing with this better than him is Kim, but... God, what's she gonna do to him if he shows up dragging this sack of shit with him? He's pretty sure divorce in the wasteland involves buckshot and an unmarked grave.

"Okay," Nick sighs at last, "On your feet."

Ordering him doesn't do much, considering John doesn't seem fully aware of his surroundings, but it makes Nick feel better that he tried before resorting to helping him.

John can barely hold himself up. He keeps his legs under him, but even while he's leaning heavily on Nick, his gait is toddler-wobbly and his knees keep buckling. He breathes hard through his nose and gets pretty green around the gills as they march on, but he doesn't complain. Honestly, the most unnerving thing about the situation is how John says nothing . Nick remembers listening to the guy ramble for hours over the deputy's radio, just wishing he would shut up. Now, Nick finds himself trying to fill that same silence while wishing John would just contribute to the conversation.

"This - none of this means I'm helping you ," Nick explains to the silence in frustration. "I just - don't think you're worth wasting bullets over. That's all." It's definitely not a good explanation, but John probably isn't coherent enough to notice. Thankfully, that means he won't notice as Nick works out the problem aloud. Nick's always preferred talking his thoughts out - it's easier than trying to listen to them being just thought . "And anyway... I can't risk you gettin' better out there by yourself and... running around, meeting back up with your whackjob followers, any of that! So I couldn't leave you there, either. Can't have... fuckin' cult shit in the apocalypse... Not gonna happen, not on my watch."

John grunts, but Nick isn't sure if it's in response or just because he tripped over a rock.

"So... Yeah, sure, I'm takin' you home, but it's only because somebody needed to keep an eye on you," Nick finishes. The excuse does... well, it doesn't do much to paper over the guilty empathy Nick had felt finding John in such a way, but it'll at least get Kim off his back for a couple of minutes until he can come up with something more convincing.

"Damn it, Kim is gonna murder me," Nick realizes aloud as he finally catches sight of the house through the trees. John grunts again, this time definitely in response, and Nick imagines a normal, healthy John Seed would be throwing a sarcastic quip in his face. Probably something kind of lewd and predatory about the state of their marriage. The image manages to make John's silence more palatable, anyway.

Father of the year that he is, Nick only pauses to consider Carmina when he's nearly at the door. She's only eight years old, and she doesn't know anything about the cult. If he isn't careful, this whole thing could blow up in his face. He could wind up getting his own daughter indoctrinated in an old-timey psycho cult! All because he couldn't stomach killing this jackass? Is that really what he wants?

Well, he has some time before Grace comes back with her — hopefully Kim will have shot John before then. ...Shit, hopefully she shoots John, and not him, too .

He's gotta bite the bullet one way or another, and so he drags John in through the front door. It's like a bandaid; you just gotta rip it off and deal with the consequences.

"Oh my God," Kim says as he stops by the door, eager to not be touching John any longer than necessary. "What happened?" Nick turns to prop John up against the doorframe, reluctant to meet Kim's face. She must see something that gives John away — maybe his tattoos, or his eyes — because she stops halfway across the dirt-encrusted floorboards and sucks in a horrified breath. "Is that John Seed ?" Kim shouts, "Nick, what are you doing ?!"

Panic flashes across John's face as he half-slips out of Nick's grasp, but he's got the wall right behind him. "Easy," Nick mutters, bracing John's shoulder until he recognizes the support at his back. The relief on his face is hard to look at, but Nick's not sure Kim is gonna be much better.

" No ," Kim shouts. "Nick, are you crazy ?!"

"Kim, c'mon," Nick replies, turning at last, "Hear me out."

"I'm not hearing you out ," Kim hisses. "The fact that you brought him here instead of putting a bullet-! "

She cuts herself off, stalking back into the kitchen. Now Nick is desperate to watch her face, but of course she keeps her back turned to him, even as he chases after her. He gets close enough to rest his hands on her hips, which he does almost out of instinct — she tenses, but at least she lets him keep his hands.

He opens his mouth to repeat all the excuses he'd come up with, about not wanting to waste bullets and not wanting to risk another cult uprising, but to his horror, the only thing that comes out of him is the simple, guilty truth. "I couldn't do it," he whispers miserably. "I couldn't - Kim, I fuckin' hate the guy. If he could hold a gun, if he weren't - he wouldn't be here. I would have shot him dead. No regrets."

"That's what he deserves," Kim mutters. She drops one hand from the counter, resting it on top of Nick's, fingers wrapping around his palm.

"It is," Nick agrees, and he means it with all his heart. It's just... his heart is kind of soft, and it's put him in a sticky situation here. He admits with a tight, rasping voice, "I just couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger. And I couldn't leave him there. I mean... what if the cult found him?"

Kim sees through the excuse immediately, turning in his arms to stare him down with that skeptical squint of hers. At last, though, she sighs, taking both of his hands up in her own. "You're too soft," she tells him fondly. She's right, though. One of these days, his tenderhearted mercies are going to get them in a whole load of trouble. With John Seed slumped in his doorway, that trouble might have already come.

"I don't know what to do," Nick tells her, knowing he can rely on her to help him find direction again.

Focusing her attention on the figure slumped in the doorway, Kim eventually shakes her head. "It might be what he deserves, but we don't deserve it," she says at last. Nick can't help but feel relieved, even if it's a guilty kind of relief. "We'll have to find somewhere to put him. Somewhere Carmina can't find, or won't go."

There aren't a lot of places around the homestead that fit that description, but Nick agrees that keeping Carmina away is key. "I dunno, we could... put him in the bunker, maybe? Carmina hates it down there. She'd never bother looking..."

Behind him, John's breath hitches, and at last he finds his voice. "No," he rasps with a shredded voice, "Not that."

"You're not in a position to argue," Nick snaps over his shoulder.

Kim fixes her eyes on John, but Nick can't tell what she's thinking. He expects her to tell John to get fucked, even half-expects her to throw him in the hole herself. It's the least John deserves. But her stony frown cracks just a little, and Nick recognizes the same pity that started this whole mess.

"The..." She clears her throat and begins again, "The spare room has a lock on the door. It'll do for now."

Nick nods. "Okay," he says. "I'll... I'll dump him up there, and then..."

"And then we'll talk about how we're going to deal with him," she says.

It's going to be one hell of a conversation, but Nick is willing to lie in the bed he's made. He gives her hands a gentle squeeze before he pulls away, turning to regard John's collapsed form in the doorway.

"Okay, asshole," he grunts, although it doesn't seem like John catches the insult. When Nick picks him back up, he settles even more heavily on Nick's shoulders. Nick barely manages to make it up the stairs without dropping the dead weight hanging on to him.

There's not much in the spare room, aside from some boxes of sentimental trash and a rat-nest pile of potentially useful garbage. The room itself was going to be Carmina's nursery — it's pale yellow and blue colors have faded and cracked, and of course Carmina doesn't like any of it, anyway. She's more interested in learning how to shoot and sharing a room with her parents in case a pack of wild dogs comes through the area.

Nick puts John down on a folded tarp he's been meaning to use to rain-proof the roof. He looks just as corpse-like lying here as he did in the woods, but at least now Nick can pretend like he has control of the situation. He's gonna have to burn the clothes John's wearing, and probably give him a bucket to clean himself up with... Ugh. The logistics of keeping John hostage in the room don't make too much sense. It would be smarter to throw him in the bunker, where he would at least have his own bathroom. It would be even smarter to put him back in the woods where he found him.

"It'd be better for me if you croaked while I'm gone," Nick tells John. Still, he leaves his canteen with him before he goes; he's pretty sure he knows where the key is for the lock, but for now it's safe to say John isn't going to be staging a breakout any time soon.

[jj-ktae]

Game Six : Breathing

Title : Survival Games Genre : AU, Angst, Fluff, Romance Pairing : Taeyong x You (reader) Summary : A deserted island and no hope left. There is only despair and this boy, Lee Taeyong, who seems to be the only survivor. You both were on the flight KAL134, from Auckland to Seoul. Words : 4386

Go to my masterlist for previous chapters! 

Game Six : Breathing

Mark runs back at full speed while the tall guy kneels, the sobs surprising you in the middle of panic.

He then turns to you and stares for a long time, his legs fidgety. He stops moving, fresh tears staining his way too clean face. “What happened to him?” his body starts shaking, like he actually knows Taeyong and is losing someone precious to him.

You think for a while, your mind foggy with anxiousness yet restless with adrenalin. Taeyong did mentioned his friends quite often, but them being alive is something you never thought would happen.

It’s been days since you arrived and after being alone with Taeyong for so long, you thought you were the only two survivors.

“Are you okay?” The tall boy sniffs loudly when he sees you stare into the void. “Taeyong is our friend. Can you tell me what happened?” you can see he is trying to be gentle with you and you are glad he is using this method instead of freaking out.

You wouldn’t be able to handle another moment of madness without fainting, anyways.

“There’s a cut on his stomach, it’s infected. It’s been so long since it happened. I tried to clean it, but we had nothing- we couldn’t do anything-” It’s hard to focus. You think about all the moments you’ve spent looking after Taeyong, all the moments he chose to feed you and find food for two people.

You feel guilty, so damn guilty.

“I’m Johnny. I’m his friend. You were in the plane, right?” The guy asks, stopping to look behind you in case someone would come. “Doyoung is a doctor. He will take care of him.”

You sigh and fall to your knees, relief working like a sedative. Maybe Taeyong could be saved. Maybe he will wake up and once he opens his eyes, he’ll find his friends back. He will be so happy. You start crying too, your body suddenly back and your muscles in pain from the tension they have been put under recently. “I was. I was.” You whisper, your breath too short.

Johnny looks at you and wipes his own tears, forcing a smile on his face. “Everything’s going to be alright. I’m sure he will be fine, don’t worry.” It feels weird to comfort a stranger when he knows Taeyong had nothing to do with you before this, but he is glad someone was there to keep him company. Taeyong hates being alone. “We have everything you need to take care of you, too.”

You nod, not in the mood for more questions. These three survived on their own for all this time? What does he mean by “everything?”. Maybe she is dreaming after all. Maybe she fainted and his imagining people.

“What happened?” You hear someone yell from behind you and jerk, turning around to meet Mark who came back with another guy.

He is carrying a... first aid kit?

He quickly glances at you and rushes to Taeyong, not believing his eyes. “What happened to him?” he sounds worried yet angry and the Johnny boy takes a step back to let him work.

“A cut on his stomach. It’s infected.” He answers as his friend starts lifting the fabric, wincing.

He opens the kit, taking out a bottle of antiseptic and wetting compresses. He takes gloves and starts working as soon as the dirty clothing is out the way. “Jesus Christ, when did this happen?” He looks at you, intimidating and hurried. “Did you take care of this?”

You nod, fresh tears still falling because you don’t know if Taeyong can be saved and you are devastated because his friends are alive yet he might die any minute. “A couple of weeks ago? I don’t know exactly.” You hiccup and sniff, hoping that this Doyoung guy is skilled enough to save his friend.

He doesn’t answer, his attention back on Taeyong and the compresses. He cleans it thoroughly, grabbing saline solution from the first aid kit and filling the cut. “Johnny, pour some antiseptic.” He orders, already focused on another pack of compresses.

He cleans it numerous times, satisfied when the cut is entirely cleaned and dries it. “Get the biggest Band-Aid you can find and give it to me when I tell you to.” He stuffs clean compresses into the cut and puts another one on top to cover the wound. “Now.” He says and the Johnny boy complies, giving it to his friend who can now close the wound for good. “Do you think you can carry him? He needs intravenous medication but everything is at the camp.”

He helps his friend and soon, Taeyong is on his back.

You jump when a hand touches your shoulder and a worried mark is barely smiling at you awkwardly when you find his eyes. “Let’s go.”

You get up, puzzled and too exhausted to deal with the change of situation. A couple of hours ago you were about to be alone in this jungle and now there’s a camp with a doctor and the other guys seem quite nice.

You don’t expect to find that type of camp, though. You thought Taeyong’s friends were the only survivors but what appears makes you stop, shocked, bewildered, confused.

What is the plane doing on the beach? And why are there so many people?

Johnny walks fast, hurrying to put Taeyong down so they can heal him and Doyoung follows, already ordering him around. Some people gather around them, asking about what happened and trying to help while you’re frozen.

“Are you okay?” Mark’s voice is soft, just like his eyes who are trying to hide the fact that he too, is freaking out. “You should rest for now.”

“No,” You stop him, your body shaking violently and you refuse to admit you are shocked beyond words. “I thought- I thought we were the only two people left. I thought I was going to be all alone in that bloody jungle.” You start sobbing, not believing the fact that maybe things could get better from now on.

Only if Taeyong survives.

“Not everyone is alive,” the boy starts, putting a hand on your back to make you walk deeper into the camp. “A lot of people died because the plane got destroyed at numerous places.” He points at the engine, huge on the beach and half resting into the water. “Some people were thrown out of the plane while we were still at high altitude, but some people got thrown out right before landing near the beach. I guess this is how they could have no injuries. The water stopped their fall without hurting them.” Mark explains like he knows what happened. How come you have no memory at all?

“I don’t remember what happened. I was sleeping and woke up by the beach.” You explain, looking around the camp and ignoring some people’s glances. “I think I hurt my head because I woke up feeling dizzy.”

Mark hums, nodding. He leads you to a makeshift table. “You should eat something,” You’re about to protest because you need to know what’s happening to Taeyong, but he cuts you, his face trying to be as comforting as possible. “Doyoung will take care of Taeyong. Focus on your health first. There are a couple of luggage in the plane, we opened a lot of them because we needed supplies, but you could look for yours later. Maybe there are things that belong to you.” He nods and walks away when another guy calls him, leaving you in front of fruits and water bottles.

They have been living quite well.

You feel disgusting, body sticky and stained with dirt. You notice it from the way everyone else is immaculate, like they just had a shower. You eat a couple of fruits and gulp down a whole bottle, praying that no one would come and talk to you.

People don’t.

They seem wary, like you’re a threat to their well-being. You don’t care, you’ve been dealing with things on your own for the past weeks, you don’t need them anyways.

You sit on the beach, away from the ruckus and trying not to worry too much about Taeyong’s health. He has his friends now and you were useless anyways. He probably doesn’t need you anymore. You doze off, head against a tree and body strained. You hear laughter from time to time, along with people running around and the smell of fire fills your nose after what seems like eternity.

It’s already dark but everyone is busy, either doing their stuff or taking care of food for the night. A girl stops when she spots you, her feet aiming for you and lips tugged up in a wide smile.

She kneels before you, offering a hand. “Found you!” her voice is cute and she looks genuinely happy to see you. “We’re about to have dinner but Doyoung is looking for you, he would like to examine you.”

You blink at her, almost forgetting about the fact that you are not alone anymore. Are you dreaming?

You stay silent, mind foggy and slowly turning into a madwoman. The girl laughs, getting up. “I’m Solene. I was on the plane, too. You are on a camp with the other survivors while the person you were with is being taken care of. Do you remember?” She sounds cautious, bringing up memories like a slap in your face and you gasp.

This is fucking real.

You slowly get up, a hand reaching for the tree behind you to stand up. “Is Taeyong alive? Is he okay?”

She nods, her smile never leaving her face. “I didn’t see him, but I heard he is stable. He is still resting for now.”

You want to cry but stop yourself from doing so. This girl here might think you are crazy. Maybe you are crazy.

She grabs your hand and tugs on your arm, pulling you out of your hiding place. “Come on, you need food. I’ll show you around.”

She doesn’t wait for you to answer and pulls you next to her. “Here is the place where we eat. Some of the guys are good at hunting and found a wild boar. This is what we will get for dinner.” She walks past a huge fire, where women are working on the thick meat. “How is it going?” she speaks loudly, getting everyone’s attention. They stop to stare at you.

How uncomfortable.

“Everyone, here is another survivor, her name is-” she stops, looking at you and leaning so you can tell her that precious information. “Y/N.” You whisper, feeling shy under everyone’s eyes.

Solene claps her hand, satisfied. “Her name is Y/N! Please treat her kindly!” The women eye you cautiously, but one of them welcomes you and soon, everyone greets, smiling.

The girl pulls you away before you can bow to everyone, her smile as wide as ever. “Everyone here fear what is happening so it’s hard for them to deal with new things. I’m sure everyone will welcome you warmly, though.” She pulls you away from the beach and shows you numerous blankets positioned over large leaves and covered with a makeshift roof. “This is where some of us sleep. It’s mostly for people who are alone because it’s better to stay together. I sleep here. Some of the families and couple have their own place to rest, but consider it a dormitory!”

You nod, a tiny smile forming on your face when you see her beam at you excitedly. She is so damn friendly.

“There’s a waterfall near the camp. We all shower there because the water is abundant and very clear. We made wooden torches so if you want, we can go there after dinner. When we first arrived, we checked the area around here and apparently, there are no dangerous animals except snakes and other biting insects. Oh, also, spiders.  There’s no real danger around here and we are enough to make sure everyone is safe.” She keeps on talking, walking toward another part of the camp.

You can only look, astonished by how organised everyone is and amazed at their survival skills. You’ve been dealing with nothing for the past weeks but everyone here had food and clothing and stuff from the plane. Some of the people smile at you, but you are too overtaken by the events to even smile back. You can only follow Solene who seems proud to have a friend now. She brings you to the forgotten luggage but you don’t find yours and she seems excited to share her clothes and belonging with you.

“How many people are we?” You ask after a while, making Solene turn around and put a hand on her chin, pensive.

“Hm…Around 50? Maybe more? We never counted.” She proceeds on walking again, stopping when she notices Doyoung going out of a tiny hut. “She is here!”

The boy finally smiles, walking toward you. “I’m Doyoung. We met earlier and I would like to make sure you are fine. Is that okay for you?” he seems more peaceful than the last time you saw him, and you understand Taeyong isn’t in danger anymore because he seems relaxed before you.

“I’m fine.” You whisper, but Doyoung shakes his head, pointing at your leg.

“You’re limping.”

Oh shit, it’s true. You hurt your knee. You almost forgot about it, your mind too busy dealing with your crazy life to care about your own bones.

He leads you into the hut where a lot of medical supplies are gathered.

“I’m not a doctor yet, but I’m on internship. I think you need a splint and anti-inflammatory medication. I don’t have a lot of these but here, this should do for the time being.” He lifts your leg to raise the pants’ fabric, revealing a rather swollen joint. Hopefully it’ll make you feel better. Use a stick if it hurts when you walk. I’ll look for something to make a splint and I’ll put it on you tomorrow.” He concludes with a sigh before getting up. “You’re safe here, I’m sure Solene showed you around already. Eat something and rest, okay?” He walks toward the exit but you grab his arm, hopeful.

“Is Taeyong okay? How is the infection?” You almost beg for positive news and Doyoung notices how miserable you seem to be.

He smiles tiredly, grateful that his friend was with someone who really cares about him. “He is resting. I don’t know when he will wake up but he was dehydrated so he has an IV drip with antibiotics and water.

“Where did you get all this?” You ask, wondering if a plane is supposed to carry all these medical supplies. “Is there enough for him to recover?”

Doyoung chuckles for the first time ever since you met him. “This airline company invested in a lot of things thankfully. Plus, we gathered everyone’s medication. I also tend to travel with a lot of things.” He feels proud for bringing so many medical supplies and smiles, before reaching for the door. “Solene must be waiting for you, I’ll let you rest for tonight.”

He leaves and taps on Solene’s shoulder as he goes to check on his friend. She takes your arm as soon as you go out of the hut.

“So, are you hungry?”

--

The first day is quick to pass. You wash up the next day, pleased with how clean your hair turn to be. Solene insists on putting conditioner on your hair and you finish with a contented sigh.

It feels great.

Doyoung puts the splint around your knee, adjusting it. The medication helps and when he asks how you are feeling, you thank him for the painkillers.

You get some strength back from all the food you gulp down. The elderly women insist on feeding your skinny body and give you food every occasion they get. They are in charge of preparing everything and even though they are only three, they do a great job.

You try to think positively because things are turning out quite well. Solene tells you they sent a couple of guys looking around the island a day before they found you and Taeyong, which means they are supposed to come back with information about the island and maybe find help.

You don’t want to tell her you wandered the island and found no one because she seems so optimistic and decide not to crush her hopes.

She is a caring girl. She helps you with everything you need, getting food when your knee hurts, helping you wash yourself because you needed someone to rub the dirt from your skin and giving you her spare blanket the first night you slept next to each other.

But something bothers you.

Your mind never drifts away from Taeyong. You wonder how he is, if he will wake up any time soon, if he will make it out alive. At the end of the day, you ask Johnny if you can see him and he takes you to him, patting your shoulder in a comforting manner.

His friends seem nice. There is another boy you haven’t talk to yet but whenever you see them in the camp, they smile at you and bow. You didn’t get to tell them what happened but they don’t force you to, aware it might be traumatising to think about such harsh moments.

You notice how happy they are to know that their friend is alive, because they goof around. You guess they were feeling down all this time judging from how close to cry Taeyong was every time he mentioned them.

You thank him and enter the plane, where Doyoung placed the injured boy in one of the only first class bed suite that survived the crash.

He is laying there, sleeping peacefully with an IV drip and he seems less pale than yesterday. You kneel next to the bed, a hand reaching for his to grip it tightly.

“I hope you’ll wake up. Please wake up.” You stay next to him until you fall asleep and when Doyoung arrives to check on his friend he finds you, head against his friend and hand clasped around his.

He lets you spend the night here.

--

Even though you decided to help around the camp, you always end up staying around Taeyong. You tell Solene that you feel responsible for what happened and she doesn’t insist.
 It’s been almost a week and you don’t even sleep around the others anymore, your mind too stressed to stay away from Taeyong for longer than necessary. Each time he looks healthier and Doyoung seems to be very attentive, for he checks on his pulse and blood pressure every morning.

You feel relieved when he tells you Taeyong made it out of the most critical phase and might have gotten rid of the infection.

You almost cry, hugging Solene who does her best to comfort you.

It keeps on going for two more days, two long days in which you wonder when the heck will he ever wake up.

So it’s only natural that it feels like a dream when someone grips your hand in the middle of the night.

You stir, back a tad sore with the unnatural position and head dipping further against Taeyong. You feel some shuffling against the sheets, too groggy to understand anything.

“Y/N…” a soft whisper makes you shiver and you feel a hand into your hair. They comb the locks softly, brushing them away from your face.

“Y/N…?” the voice says again and you frown, not in the mood for false hope tonight. You’ve been dreaming about Taeyong waking up so many times that even your sleepy state had enough.

“Where are we…?” The voice says next, finally pulling you out of your sleep. You jerk from the bed, eyes blurry into the dark plane.

You sit straight, stirring and trying to pull away from Taeyong.

But your hand is stuck. A light squeeze makes you look up and you freeze.

Taeyong woke up.

You almost yell, jumping on the bed and hugging his shadow. He sighs, hugging you back and nuzzling his face into your shoulder.

Surprise leaves and emotion appears in the form of fresh tears. You are so happy. “I thought you were going to die. Shit, I was frightened.” You cry uncontrollably, your body shaking. Taeyong chuckles silently, rubbing your back and hushing your sobs.

He waits for you to calm down before pulling away from your trembling body. You can’t believe it; he is alive and well. Taeyong tries to observe you, his mind still foggy from the very long sleep. His hands blindly reach for your face and he finally notices the IV drip stuck on his forearm.

He wipes the tears, fighting the urge to cuddle some more. As much as he enjoys the moment, he has no idea where he is and how he ended up with an IV drip.

You gasp all of a sudden, making the boy jump. “I need to tell them!” You get up from your spot next to the bed but Taeyong stops you, getting wary.

“Them?” he whispers, looking around the bed suit.

You beam, jumping up and down and trying hard not to cry again. He is going to be so happy.

“Your friends! We are in the plane! They will explain everything but first let me tell them you woke up.” Taeyong blinks, trying to assimilate the sentence and as you dash out of the plane, he stays put, not daring enough to get up.

You run as fast as you can, your knee almost healed by now. Doyoung is munching on a piece of fish and almost chokes when you appear before him, panting.

“He is awake!!!” You don’t even wait for his reaction and run back toward the plane, smiling when you run past Solene and she understands something must have happened.

Your smile has never been so wide.

Doyoung calls Johnny, Mark and Jaehyun on the way to the plane and they follow, excited yet worried. Hopefully Taeyong is feeling okay.

They enter the plane and when Taeyong sees them, he freezes.

“Taeyong!” They approach him, the whole crew turning into a mess of tears and sobs.

You decide to let them enjoy their reunion and go back to a beaming Solene.

You never thought you’d be this happy, someday.

--

It seems like Taeyong feels a lot better. He gets up from the bed the day after and gets fed the same way you were, if not more. Everyone is trying to help him, congratulating his will to live and praising Doyoung for being a great doctor.

Also, his good looks bring all the ladies and the girls around him, all eager to satisfy his needs and he often seems embarrassed with the unwanted attention. His friends make fun of him when he asks for help and he ends up stuck between the ladies who feed him endlessly and try to massage his sore muscles.

You don’t stay around him too much. He has his friends now and you know he did enough for you. You don’t want to keep on being a burden so you let him breathe. He seems to be doing fine around his friends and you catch him laugh from time to time.

It makes you happy to see him happy.

You don’t see how he notices the way you avoid him. You seem eager to walk away whenever he approaches you and it makes him wonder if he did something wrong.

It’s true that the situation is totally different, but he expected more…proximity?

Taeyong decides to directly ask when he finds you by the sea. You seem deep in thoughts as your hands grab handfuls of sand before throwing them in to the sea. It’s so quiet around here, with no trace of a boat or any sort of help.

He hesitates, his steps heavy. “How are you?” He asks before sitting next to you. The beach is paradise-like yet none of you notice the environment.

“Fine. Shouldn’t you be with your friends?”

He shakes his head. “I want to talk to you.”

You let the sand fall from your hands, your attention back on his now healthy face. What does he want to talk about? You hear loud voices from behind you but you’re both too focused to turn around.

Taeyong looks disturbed and awkward. “You seem…distant?”. He doesn’t know how to deal with this but he has to let you know about his worries. After all, you spent enough time together to be able to be comfortable.

You shrug, not getting why he thinks so. It’s true that you miss being around him. The fact that you thought he was the only survivor, along with how he took care of everything for you made you rely on him way too much.

“You got your friends back…” You trail off, your eyes going back to the sea because you can’t bear the way he is looking at you. “You also did enough for me so far. I feel guilty.”

You hear him chuckle, but suddenly he inches closer, his heat somewhat stronger than the sun.

“You shouldn’t. I did it because I wanted it.”

You close your eyes. He shouldn’t say things like these. It makes you want to stick around him way more than you should.

Taeyong doesn’t hear an answer from you so he continues. “It feels weird sleeping in the jungle without you.”

You chuckle and finally turn around to meet his gaze.

“Is that a way to ask me to sleep next to you tonight?” You tease because it’s your only way out of the situation. Taeyong is being too nice and when you thought he would go back to his “usual life” he actually still thinks about you.

You’re glad you’re not the one in that case.

He answers, even though his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “Would that be too-”

“Y/N?”

A voice startles you and makes you both turn around.

Timothy is full of sweat and shocked to see you here.

--

[jlf23tumble]

Four Hangout: Recap

Oh, man, I know I “owe” this one, so I’m doing it, but I hate it for about 15 different reasons, 14 of those being Ben Winston, which means I’m gonna keep this fairly short. The Four Hangout (lmao, I will never stop laughing at the attempts to team up with Google’s shitty tech) predates my entry into this fandom, so I’m not as on top of every little thing that happened around it (and my god, there were some doozies). I’ve found other posts that do a better job of transcribing some key moments), but I’m sure lots of others are out there, and as ever, I recommend taking 35 minutes to stare at this work of art for yourself.

Whenever I’ve seen gifs from this, the read is that at least two people are coming off a coke bender as we all focus on Ben’s rather ham-fisted attempt to get Louis to admit that he hates people thinking he’s gay. But in rewatching it in full now and knowing more about the context around it, the true vibe is exhaustion mixed with some very real anger/mulishness aimed at management in general and Ben in particular. Because the point of the Four Hangout isn’t to promote Four, the album, but to exonerate the D’s management team, blow smoke up Ben’s ass, and “clear the air” about whatever rumors have been going around that the D’s team doesn’t like, all posed as questions theoretically from the fans, yet weirdly management focused.

I’ve found lots of good blog posts that summarize these 35 or so minutes, but here’s an executive summary of my comments coupled with others I’ve found:

Ben Winston is an insufferable dick

The D is so fucking TIRED at this point, everyone’s low energy, but Louis’s voice is the softest, raspiest, most enchanting thing

They regularly creep on social media and are up on pretty much everything fandom related

There are no rumors they need to dismiss except that they’re currently alive, go on, ask them twice!

Liam is great at delivering the corporate spiel

Harry really did get them sneezes out

The Louis/Ben feud is one thing; the Harry/Ben feud is a whole other

Louis reads fanfic (and has some faves!)

Narry are ride or die WMYB, except for when Harry needs to have a go at Ben

Zayn has somehow made himself look even more godlike

Louis has super cute socks

With that in mind, let’s jump into some key moments, but I’m paraphrasing a lot because it’s so hard to hear over all the cross-talk, asides, and inside jokes. More under the cut!

Shout out to Louis's collarbones and quiff combo...his voice is about to give out, but he’s so OPEN and present for this total shitshow, even when he defiantly refuses to take the path he’s being guided down. Also, please @ god let me play some poker while we enjoy a bacon butty over brunch, his face as Niall introduces Ben as a “very, very good friend of ours” (me as both Ziam and Harry):

One of the most subversive things this band does is effusive praise when they’re pissed off, and never is it clearer than here, when Niall gushes on about all the wonderful work Ben has done for them, and the other boys pick up on it and start whistling and clapping (Louis: “My hero”; Harry: “LOOK AT THOSE TEETH!”) until Ben gets extremely uncomfortable.

We’re off to a good start, with Ben being sure to preface that all of these questions are from the fans, and then Harry asking Ben if he’s wearing makeup (Ben, mildly affronted, “No, I’m not wearing any makeup, but you guys do, you wear a lot of makeup, don't you, Harry” [Harry: “Tons”; Ben: “Well, you need to”]).

The first question is about the difference between this album and their first one, and it’s such a stupid, easy question that I want to answer it for Niall because I can do it in my sleep. Ben then asks Louis if he likes visiting the X Factor, if it reminds him of the old days (you know, four years ago), and AGAIN, this is a dumb-ass question, and Louis’s a pro, so what do you think he’s gonna say? (Of course he likes visiting, it’s lovely to go down and relive it). Is Harry nervous about playing there again tonight? Nope, it’s fun!! He can enjoy it this time around! Simon Cowell doesn’t give him ANY anxiety!!

The next question is about the simplicity of the old days, and my god, does my heart break for Liam saying that they had to work really hard back then, so it’s nice that four years later, they get a few more vacation days. Louis agrees, adding that the first American promo trip was a grind where they did 10 things a day (multiple interviews, signings, radio appearances, rehearsals, and shows)

Ben asks if they ever go back and watch clips of themselves from their early days (this genuinely does seem like a fan ask), and wouldn’t you know, Niall was just chillin’ out last week, rewatching all the video diaries again. Louis admits that his red trousers and braces were loud, but they worked for the time, “Or do you disagree, Ben?” (Ben: “No, I loved it.” Louis: “Thank you.”) And I wish I could travel back in time both so I could kill Hitler AND witness Ben showing up somewhere in a pair of Toms, only to be faced by Louis Tomlinson telling him that he wore that style two years ago, and he wouldn’t anymore, which Ben says cut him down to size (I highly doubt that, but I would have love to see it).

All of this fashion talk is side-winding into a question about who tells them what to wear and whether they have control over their image now. They all note that they wouldn’t have dared to push back in year one, presumably because “experts” were telling them what to do, plus it was all free (which makes all the dragging on their old looks extra fun to watch). Then Ben asks whether they make their own decisions now, and Liam says yeah as Louis smirks, lmaooooo, which morphs into, well, we have much more input than we used to have. I’m here for Harry giving a slow, long-winded answer as a construction project starts up somewhere in the studio, and Louis yells, “Keep it down” into his mic.

Ben, I mean, the fans want to know what piece of advice they’d give the fetus versions of themselves, if they could go back in time, and Louis advises his younger self to have a second glance in the mirror and see if he’s really sure about that particular outfit. (Ben: “Is that…really?” Louis: “No, Ben, I’m just trying to make a joke.”). Liam would fight the haircuts, and Harry would burn the supras (I’m assuming; Louis: “They were outrageous”). Zayn would tell his younger self to have a bit more fun, to try and take it all in and enjoy it more. :(

“The fans” are curious about the negative side of social media, how the D just exploded on YouTube and Twitter after X Factor, and does it ever go too far? Liam channels my inbox and says that people forget there’s a person on the other side of an anon message, that these guys see all the things that are said about them, and they’re self-conscious with cameras and comments, but it’s okay, they put up with it. Louis’s addicted to Twitter, and says that there are negative people there, but you’ll find negative people on every social media platform and in real life, too, it is what it is.

Of course, “the fans” are curious about how all this social media shit affects their girlfriends, and I would kill to hear more about what Narry, the two singles on this couch, keep giggling about in this ridick convo that I’m not even gonna bother to sum up.

Ben’s curious how the fans always manage to leak everything the band does, and yes, Louis, tell us more! How does it make you feel? Liam thinks it’s anticlimactic, Niall’s only beef is when something is leaked a week before it’s out, and everyone else just gets annoyed if it breaks the structure of a rollout, but nobody talks about songs that are leaked that were never meant for official release (cough cough, "Home”), and Harry’s just happy people get a sneak peek and then still buy the album, so all is good. Me as this exchange: Ben, incredulously, “It’s amazing they’re able to constantly do it”; Liam: “Lots of high-tech people out there.”

Probably my favorite part of this is the fanfic discussion, which kicks off with Ben’s “I've noticed, not that I’ve read it, but there's been a lot of fanfiction published about you boys, books published, have you any read it?”

Zayn avoids it at all costs, but Louis’s aware of a fic writer’s book deal (who????) and says that he’s come across some of it on twitter (!!!). He finds some of it utterly bizarre (looking at you, self-inserts), but he’s read some nice little stories, and he’s seen some that go very deep and very, very weird. Liam acknowledges that it’s a whole different world, that he gets the idea of it, of fans putting themselves in situations with them (and Jesus Christ, it kills me that they’ve had to read self-insert wattpad fics), but some of it blows his mind. Niall doesn’t know where to go looking for it, but don’t worry friend, Ben’s gonna hook you up with his favorites! Harry is noticeably quiet during ALL of this.

With a horrible segue, Ben says, “Speaking of things that are made up, what’s the biggest rumor you’ve heard about yourself, this is a question lots of fans are asking” (SURE THING), and Harry never gets enough credit for his dry delivery, such as the way he says, “We’ve all been dead a couple of times.” But Ben can’t let it go, and that’s when Louis does his whole, “No”….dramatic pause (he might be saying “Go,” but the point is, he lets this bit drop where it lands). Zayn jumps in with the rumor that Niall used to be a jockey, and god bless him, honestly.

Ben realizes he’s not getting anywhere with this, so it’s time to move on to the actual album, why is it called Four, etc. It’s not really all that interesting, tbh, nor is the name they didn’t go with as a band (Liam’s dad’s suggestion, which was USP, if you’re curious). Liam figures USP will flourish one day, and this whole section proves how funny Liam actually is. I’m curious about all the One Direction tribute bands they’re mentioning, and I’m totally down to check one out if they’re ever in my area, just fwiw.

Anyway, moving on! What song are they most proud of? Zayn loves “Where Do Broken Hearts Go,” and Louis is WAY into “Fireproof,” which Liam’s down with, too. The part that’s interesting gets glossed over because Ben’s an idiot, but they talk about how many songs they’ve written that don’t make it to the album, like, Liam has a tattoo that says “somewhere is a place that nobody knows” from a song we’ll never hear called “Man on a Mission,” and how many others are stored in this vault (23 or 24 were in the final running for this album, where are they)? Harry suggests those songs will be on USP’s first album, and I will absolutely buy it. His story about the Norway bus trip makes me want to dig deep (he was on a party bus in Norway and heard one of their songs, sung by them, that had never been released anywhere, and he was the only one who knew it).

Zayn hints a bit at what happens (voting), and Liam hints at all the meetings, but I would love to know so much more about this process, especially since Niall says that lots of people are in these meetings, with lots of opinions (Simon, label, other managers).

Ben says that another recurring question is about what “Stockholm Syndrome” means, and I love the Alex Turner-esque dodge we get on Harry literally describing what Stockholm Syndrome means, without any real insight into what the song’s about. Still, I live in the awkward that happens right after this drops, with Ben still somehow trying to get them to admit they don’t feel trapped, lmao:

Ben asks about which songs are about specific people, and god, I don’t care because all of this section is lies. Then he tries to get them to talk about songs they don’t like, and they aren’t here for that, like, Liam will say he can’t casually listen to WMYB, but he loves performing it, and the best part of this is Harry saying he’ll crank that song and mouth along, pretending that he’s Niall.

For their favorite songs, Liam goes with “Fireproof,” Louis goes with “Midnight Memories,” Niall goes with “Where Do Broken Hearts Go,” Zayn can’t pick one, and Harry says “Best Song Ever.” Ben likes “Through the Dark” because of course he does, and that’s when the needling from Harry starts about “Gotta Be You,” and I don’t understand, but I live for him on the attack, so geddit, son (also, Niall, with his “your boyfriend’s back, and you’re gonna be in trouble,” etc., YES).

Another question Ben kept getting from fans (got it!) is what would be the one thing they’d change in the past four years, and Louis starts with, “Why would you want to? It’s been great, there’s no point.” Liam agrees, and that’s that. Ben’s next question is what moment they’d relive in the past four years, and Niall says he was really nervous at MSG, although Zayn thinks it was a great gig BECAUSE they were nervous. Nothing’s really happening here, so Ben asks Harry what’s going on with his hair (I guess “the fans” want to know?), and Harry just says it tends to grow, that’s what hair does, and he’s letting it all hang out.

Another “fan” question that makes me laugh from Ben: “Who makes the decisions in One Direction? Is it always your call?” And they all say NO, but Liam jumps in with, “It’s totally us, people ask us now, ultimately we call the shots,” and there’s a LOT of back-chatter here, so draw what you see.

Ben tries to push how much they love the “Night Changes,” video, and AGAIN, Harry gets on his case about “Gotta Be You,” and someone else covers it better than I ever could, but this goading by Harry is wonderful. Ben’s creative process for video concepts is fascinating because he basically admits that it’s easy or it’s really hard (read: he steals it or just throws a shitty idea to a wall to see if it sticks).

Ben asks if they get nervous about people liking the album, and Louis says they care if critics like the album or not, but really, he’s out there on twitter searching different song titles to see the fan reaction. This is also when we learn they aren’t on ye olde social meeds that much anymore, but they all enjoy a good old-fashioned creep session (Zayn especially). Harry’s comment about feeling vulnerable when you release something you’ve been working on for a year feels especially poignant—he gets excited and nervous all at once—and I really don’t get this whole controlled leak promo thing they did for Four, but who am I to question Modest or Syco?? All I want to know is what Niall’s talking about on the side.