#he was so gd hurt and angry i want to sob

[donttouchtheneednoggle]

more crowley angst

whenever aziraphale says you were an angel once/you could be one again he's trying to affirm crowley's goodness and reassure him he doesn't think he's evil but what crowley hears is 'i like you because of what remains of who you used to be and i wish you'd go back to being that person' that crowley can't even REMEMBER BEING

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN || SEASON 4 EPISODE 10 || THE DEEP HEART'S CORE ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

With each repetition, he dug a thumb hard between her ribs. “You fuc#ing bastard!” she screamed. She braced her feet and yanked down on his arm as hard as she could, bringing it into biting range. She lunged at his wrist, but before she could sink her teeth in his flesh, she found herself jerked off her feet and whirled through the air. She ended hard on her knees, one arm twisted up behind her back so tightly that her shoulder joint cracked. The strain on her elbow hurt; she writhed, trying to turn into the hold, but couldn’t budge. An arm like an iron bar clamped across her shoulders, forcing her head down. And farther down. Her chin drove into her chest; she couldn’t breathe. And still he forced her head down. Her knees slid apart, her thighs forced wide by the downward pressure. “Stop!” she grunted. It hurt to force sound through her constricted windpipe. “Gd’s sk, stp!” The relentless pressure paused, but did not ease. She could feel him there behind her, an inexorable, inexplicable force. She reached back with her free hand, groping for something to claw, something to hit or bend, but there was nothing. “I could break your neck,” he said, very quietly. The weight of his arm left her shoulders, though the twisted arm still held her bent forward, hair loose and tumbled, nearly touching the floor. A hand settled on her neck. She could feel thumb and index fingers on either side, pressing lightly on her arteries. He squeezed, and black spots danced before her eyes. “I could ki ll you, so.” The hand left her neck, and touched her, deliberately, knee and shoulder, cheek and chin, emphasizing her helplessness. She jerked her head away, not letting him touch the wetness, not wanting him to feel her tears of rage. Then the hand pressed sudden and brutal on the small of her back. She made a small, choked sound and arched her back to keep her arm from breaking, thrusting out her hips backward, legs spread to keep her balance. “I could use ye as I would,” he said, and there was a coldness in his voice.

“Could you stop me, Brianna?” She felt as though she would suffocate with rage and shame. “Answer me.” The hand took her by the neck again, and squeezed.

“No!” She was free. So suddenly released, she pitched forward onto her face, barely getting one hand down in time to save herself.

She lay on the straw, panting and sobbing. There was a loud whuffle near her head—Magdalen, roused by the noise, leaning out of her stall to investigate. Slowly, painfully, she raised herself to a sitting position. He was standing over her, arms folded. “Damn you!” she gasped. She slammed a hand down in the hay. “God, I want to kill you!” He stood quite still, looking down at her. “Aye,” he said quietly. “But ye can’t, can you?” She stared up at him, not understanding. His eyes were intent on hers, not angry, not mocking. Waiting. “You can’t,” he repeated, with emphasis. And then realization came, flooding down her aching arms to her bruised fists. “Oh, God,” she said. “No. I can’t. I couldn’t. Even if I’d fought him … I couldn’t.” Quite suddenly she began to cry, the knots inside her slipping loose, the weights shifting, lifting, as a blessed relief spread through her body. It hadn’t been her fault. If she had fought with all her strength—as she had fought just now— “Couldn’t,” she said, and swallowed hard, gasping for air. “I couldn’t have stopped him. I kept thinking, if only I’d fought harder … but it wouldn’t have mattered. I couldn’t have stopped him.” A hand touched her face, big and very gentle. “You’re a fine, braw lassie,” he whispered. “But a lassie, nonetheless. Would ye fret your heart out and think yourself a coward because ye couldna fight off a lion wi’ your bare hands? It’s the same. Dinna be daft, now.” She wiped the back of her hand under her nose, and sniffed deeply. He put a hand under her elbow and helped her up, his strength no longer either threat or mockery, but unutterable comfort. Her knees stung, where she had scraped them on the ground. Her legs wobbled, but she made it to the haypile, where he let her sit down.

“You could just have told me, you know,” she said. “That it wasn’t my fault.” He smiled faintly. “I did. Ye couldna believe me, though, unless ye knew for yourself.” “No. I guess not.”

A profound but peaceful weariness had settled on her like a blanket. This time she had no urge to tear it off. She watched, feeling too limp to move, as he wetted a cloth from the trough and wiped her face, straightened her twisted skirts, and poured out a drink for her. When he handed her the freshly filled cup of cider, though, she laid a hand on his arm. Bone and muscle were solid, warm under her hand. “You could have fought back. But you didn’t.” He laid a big hand over hers, squeezed and let it go.

“No, I didna fight,” he said quietly. “I gave my word—for your mother’s life.” His eyes met hers squarely, neither ice nor sapphire now, but clear as water. “I dinna regret it.” He took her by the shoulders, and eased her down onto the piled hay. “Do ye rest a bit, a leannan.” She lay down, but reached up to touch him as he knelt by her.

“Is it true—that I won’t forget?” He paused for a moment, hand on her hair. “Aye, that’s true,” he said softly. “But it’s true, too, that it willna matter after a time.” “Won’t it?” She was too tired even to wonder what he might mean by this. She felt almost weightless; strangely remote, as though she no longer inhabited her troublesome body. “Even if I’m not strong enough to ki. ll him?” A clear cold draft from the open door cut through the warm fog of smoke, making all the animals stir. The brindled cow shifted her weight in sudden irritation and let out a low-throated mwaaah, not of distress so much as of querulous complaint. She felt her father glance at the cow before turning back to her.

“You’re a verra strong woman, a bheanachá,” he said at last, very softly. “I’m not strong. You just proved I’m not—” His hand on her shoulder stopped her. “That’s not what I mean.” He stopped, thinking, his hand smoothing her hair, over and over. “She was ten when our mother died, Jenny was,” he said at last. “It was the day after the funeral when I came into the kitchen and found her kneeling on a stool, to be tall enough to stir the bowl on the table. “She was wearing my mother’s apron,” he said softly, “folded up under the arms, and the strings wrapped twice about her waist. I could see she’d been weepin’, like I had, for her face was all stained and her eyes red. But she just went on stirring, staring down into the bowl, and she said to me, ‘Go and wash, Jamie; I’ll have supper for you and Da directly.’ ” His eyes closed altogether, and he swallowed once. Then he opened them, and looked down at her again. “Aye, I ken fine how strong women are,” he said quietly. “And you’re strong enough for what must be done, m’ annsachd—believe me.”

He stood up then, and went to the cow. It had risen to its feet and was moving restlessly in a small circle, swaying and shuffling on its tether. He caught it by the tether rope, gentled it with hands and words, made his way behind the heifer, frowning in concentration. She saw him turn his head and look, to check his dirk, then turn back, murmuring.

Not a loving butcher, no. A surgeon in his way, like her mother. From this odd plateau of remoteness, she could see how much her parents—so wildly different in temperament and manner—were alike in this one respect; that odd ability to mingle compassion with sheer ruthlessness. But they were different even in that, she thought; Claire could hold life and death together in her hands, and yet preserve herself, hold aloof; a doctor must go on living, for the sake of her patients, if not for her own sake. Jamie would be ruthless toward himself, as much as—or more than—he would be to anyone else. He had thrown off his plaid; now he unfastened his shirt, with no haste but neither with any wasted motion. He pulled the pale linen over his head and laid it neatly aside, returning to his watching post at the heifer’s tail, ready to assist. A long ripple ran down the cow’s rounded side, and the torchlight glimmered white on the tiny knot of a scar over his heart. Uncover his nakedness? He would strip himself to the bone, if he thought it necessary. And—a much less comforting thought—if he thought it necessary, he would do the same to her, without a moment’s hesitation. He had a hand at the base of the cow’s tail, speaking to it in Gaelic, soothing, encouraging. She felt as though she could almost grasp the sense of his words—but not quite. All might be well, or it might not. But whatever happened, Jamie Fraser would be there, fighting. It was a comfort.

48 AWAY IN A MANGER

[chalkrevelations]

Well. Episode 34 of Word of Honor, and, oh.

(Spoilers. Scroll on by and come back later if you want to watch it unspoiled.)

Oh. No. NO, show. Only A-Xiang is supposed to make me cry, so fuck you, Zhou Zishu, with your SAD LITTLE FACE, oh my god, why don’t you just pull my heart out of my chest, throw it down in the dirt and stomp on it? It would be kinder than having to watch you deal with the implications of whatever it is, precisely, you’ve done to yourself that means you’re expecting to drop dead any day and lose your chance at lifetime happiness with your soulmate but are hiding from everyone. (Well, I guess it’s your turn to be hiding something, because it looks like everyone in the jianghu except you was in on at least some part of Wen Kexing’s plan.)

So, the first thing that struck me in this ep is the way ZZS sits at the table at the post-Hero’s Conference meal drinking session, hunched over, like his bones are made of shattered glass, and here’s the thing: He’s absolutely just had a serious emotional blow. But also, this is a guy who’s terminally ill and in chronic pain, and we saw that repeatedly for about the first two-thirds of the show, and then the emphasis on it kind of slacked off. And I’m thinking now that maybe it wasn’t just slack writing or WKX playing his xiao in the rain through the nights at Four Seasons Manor like the worst emo kid ever that helped, that maybe some of the progression of the deadening of ZZS’s senses might have offered him some relief, but whatever it was, I’m wondering if whatever he’s done now – I presume pulled out those gd Nails - has exacerbated everything all over again. I cannot believe that at least Wu Xi can’t look at the way he’s moving and holding himself at the table and see that he’s not just stone-cold angry and emotionally hurt about being left out of the loop, he’s in physical pain. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a little like being stabbed in the chest when he gets confirmation that Chengling and WKX were in on WKX’s “death” together while he was in the dark and believed this asshole actually died on him. But I also think we’re getting physical pain ramped up again from him; there’s a hesitation and delicacy of movement that speaks of someone who’s judging their movements and maintaining a high level of control, because if they do make a wrong move, everything could just explode into agony. I also noticed the way he clutches his cup when A-Xiang starts explaining how WKX made a deal with Xie Wang in order to rescue ZZS from Tian Chuang, and I can’t for the life of me figure out if it’s having to hear about WKX finding himself in that position in order to save him, or if it’s A-Xiang calling him “Sick Dude” at a moment when that’s going to press right on one of the tenderest, most vulnerable places. Because, god, everyone else at this table who even knows about his terminal illness still thinks that Wu Xi is going to be able to fix him. And here’s where ZZS apparently is a better person than me, because I don’t know that I wouldn’t have an absolute breakdown and end up throwing it in WKX’s face that if he had just told me what was going on, maybe I wouldn’t be about to drop dead tomorrow and leave him alone for the rest of his life, asshole. But no! His zhiji’s happiness is so important to ZZS, that he’s not going to say a word about it! It’s more important than his own life, that his shidi has been able to avenge his parents while keeping his own hands (relatively) clean of any more sins. He’s going to continue to be there, to be whatever WKX needs him to be, for however few days he has left. I won’t fail you. (Even when you fail me). Here’s the thing though – at some point, you’re going to drop dead, Zhou Zishu. And apparently you’re going to leave WKX completely unprepared for it, so I don’t know that you’re doing him any favors being the one who’s hiding something, this time around. And oh my god, I just realized something – you made him drink three pots of liquor as a punishment – was that to get him so blind drunk he wouldn’t notice the Nails were gone? You realize you have to tell him at some point, right?

ANYWAY, WKX gets sloppy drunk and stumbles into their(? has everyone just given up any pretense at this point?) bedroom, and first of all, can I take a minute to flail over the way ZZS pushes drunk WKX’s hair back off of his shoulder? Can I? Because I rewound and re-watched that 2 seconds of the show three times. But then, then, WKX starts drunken rambling about how happy he is, and how scared he’d been that he wasn’t worthy of ZZS, and tears start welling up in ZZS’s stupid eyes, and WKX starts talking about how finding ZZS made him a whole new person, and ZZS’s stupid precious face gets SO SAD, and I start fucking welling up too, and then WKX talks about his parents and their shifu, and ZZS presses WKX’s head to his chest and gives us his stupid sad little smile, and I’m literally clutching my shirt hem in inarticulate pain and distress by this point, and then ZZS starts to break down as he holds WKX’s hand as WKX finally falls asleep, and he gives that stupid shaky sobbing little gasp, and just UGH. I’m DYING here, show. Also, how did you manage to do this to me with just your face, Zhang Zhehan? I’m not sure I can take the next couple of episodes, when the whole Nails dilemma is sure to come out.

Second big takeaway of this ep is that I just … oh my god. I cannot with you, Xie’er, holy shit. And I say this in a completely loving yet utterly aghast way. Was it absolutely necessary to literally sit on Awful Yifu’s lap? I’m reduced to a state of horrified laughter over the envelope pushing. The absolute fuckery of the power dynamic fluctuations of the Zhao Jing/Xie Wang relationship at this point … it’s something. It’s finally reached a point where it’s so fucky and complex that I may have to go looking for some fic, despite my general desire to punt Awful Yifu into the sun. I do have to say that the whole (one-sided) conversation when Xie’er finally let everything out was super-cathartic. Go off with your unfilial self, Xie’er. Li Daikun has been amazing all through this, and he’s continuing to maintain a perfect balance as we move toward the finish line. I’ve heard he was offered Wen Kexing and supposedly didn’t want to take the role because he didn’t think he was ready for it? And while I absolutely appreciate Gong Jun and the chemistry between ZZS and WKX that he built with Zhang Zhehan, I’m flabbergasted that Li Daikun was able to pull off Xie’er like this, yet thought he couldn’t manage WKX ... and I have to admit, I kind of would like to see what WKX would have been in his hands. I’ve also heard a rumor that they’re talking about maybe filming an origin story for Xie Wang? I … am torn, because on the one hand, more Xie’er, but on the other, more Awful Yifu. Anyway, I think we’re continuing to see a whole tangle of resonances between Xie’er, Wen Kexing, and Zhou Zishu, and the awful men in their lives who helped make them who they are today; there’s something of a contrast between Zhou Zishu, who, maybe significantly, was older and had some grounding from his Four Seasons shifu when he got tangled up with Prince Jin and Tian Chuang and who was willing to gnaw off his own leg to get out of the trap (and only finally struck back because he was forcibly taken back) and the other two, one of whom killed and … dismembered? flayed? his abuser before taking his literal throne, and the other of whom turned his abuser into a muted … piece of furniture? sex toy? before taking his figurative throne. Xie’er is about five steps behind Wen Kexing on a parallel path, and maybe there’s still time for him to untangle some of the fuckery in his head about his awful yifu. But meanwhile, there it is: You failed me. Xie’er, you’re breaking my heart, but I feel like I have to point out, again, this is the guy who is literally responsible for the existence of the Department of the Unfaithful. I did have a brief moment when I was convinced Xie’er was poisoning himself and Awful Yifu in a murder-suicide move, but then we got lap-sitting instead? Which could have made me think we were getting some kind of reversion to wanting to feel safe, like a kid able to (finally) sit in his father’s lap and play at comfort, but then he went and made it – let’s be honest – a little weird.

Last really big takeaway for me from this ep is that A-Xiang and I continue to be simpatico, because lady, I also have a very very bad feeling about Fan Shishu’s absence in this wedding “party” from the Gentle Wind Sword Sect, and watching your dawning realization at the end of the episode when he doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up as the group enters only confirmed my suspicions that something is UP. Am I supposed to expect a fakeout to Mo Huaiyang’s haranguing speech to Cao Weining, with a wrap-up of “But since you clearly love her so much and want to be a good influence …” Because I won’t believe it. And I’m not going to be happy or comfortable until we see the back of this asshole, because speaking of somebody who says everything with his face, Mo Huaiyang was NOT happy when Ye Baiyi called off the rest of the Heroes Conference, after his horse in the race had already been completely repudiated and he lost whatever chance he had at gaining power and influence on Zhao Jing’s back. Even if he did come all this way – bearing gifts – just to tell Cao Weining he’s an ungrateful brat and to never darken the door of Gentle Wind Sword Sect, it would still be a jerkass thing to do. But I don’t trust him as far as I could spit, and my only question at this point is whether all of Cao Weining’s shidi who came with him to the wedding are in on whatever bs Mo Huaiyang’s planning to pull.

A couple other random things:

Oh, so A-Xiang’s two moms are going to stay together for the rest of their lives, are they? And Liu Qianqiao is even like, “Loser Boyfriend? I don’t know him.” Followed by a cut to Luo Fumeng and her vaguely smug reaction. I’m dying.

No one’s going to say anything about this random body that Wen Kexing used for his plan? Just, you know, went to the store or something and picked out a random body? I realize it’s very late in the game to be getting moralistic about the adorable merciless killers, but come on, man. I also think we have once again overused the infodump. I realize we only have 35 episodes, but some of this explanation of WKX’s very complex plan should have been shown, not told. Anyway, cue series of flashbacks to finally explain how the whole Rube Goldberg plan was put in place, and ah-hah! WKX, himself, talked to Chengling ahead of time. I notice that in that flashback scene and the one when he talks to Ye Baiyi, he’s prominently still wearing That Hairpin, so we’ll realize this all got set into motion before ZZS was rescued and brought home.

Finally, why has everyone seem to have forgotten (still) about that KEY that WKX was waving around? No one’s going to mention it? Really?

And now, I think I’m going to fortify myself with some bourbon for the next ep.

[fbdo1986]

It’s enough to be whiplash - A Ferris Bueller’s Day Off Fic

a/n: To put it plainly, I took a few tricks from John Hughes’s earlier scripts of the film, which were more surreal and up-front with discussing death and end of the world scenarios. It was inspired by a concept that I couldn’t seem to shake after I thought of it: what if the pool scene was just a bit more high stakes? 

Warnings: Death Mention (there is no character death), Drowning 

Word Count: 2,621

None of them are prepared for the sudden shock into their skin that comes after their visions blur with blue, how their ears ring after the slick slap of flesh obviously colliding with water, or the registration of Cameron’s body, sunken, not writhing to be rescued in the pool below him.

Sloane screams. She can’t help it. She screams because he doesn’t. Time morphs in the same way the water does, how what once was peaceful becomes ominous. How the water barely reacts to the fact that there is a body sinking below, paying no mind to the grim way in which it enters and doesn’t come back up. Calm and gentle and crystal clear blue, reflecting the shimmering sun. And it’s still a sweet, uninterrupted summer day. No one would suspect the touch-and-go situation they find themselves in, not today. Yet the fact that something is wrong is the only thing that shivers through Sloane’s body.

It’s one of the times when the body heads straight into action, you don’t even hesitate. Ferris dives in headfirst, becoming just another body underneath the water's surface. It swallows him completely. He finds Cameron in there, trying with all his efforts to bring them both up for air as soon as possible. Hooks his arms around Cameron’s torso and pulls—it’s so difficult to grab hold of someone taller than you are—breaking free from the heavy tension of the water and dragging him to the edge of the pool. He lays motionless, his body is limp and waterlogged.

Cameron’s not breathing.

In the same moment as when his heart drops twelve stories Ferris is screaming out his name. Hitting Cam’s face rapidly, calling out again and again as Sloane watches in horror. Nothing is happening and the world shifts, now a nightmare with an unresponsive body that looks suspiciously like his best friend.

“Cameron, please!” Sloane pleads. If she didn’t know better, if her body weren’t already soaked, maybe the wetness clinging to her skin would be tears on her face. She doesn’t know where to put her hands, to clutch at herself or at him, because that wouldn’t make a difference, would it?

“Come on Cam. You can do this. Please.” He’s shaking Cameron now. Nothing.

Again and again, over and over. Time slows for Ferris now, in an unsuspecting way, and the heart that rams against his ribs quickens, chasing a reaction that doesn’t come. Maybe, it justifies that the two of them could switch heartbeats. If only he could slow down and Cameron would speed back up. Reality slams into him with a force that knocks out all the air from his lungs. Who gives a damn about the car? Who gives a shit about anything, anything outside of the rapidly suffocating universe that is spinning out of control? How could anything, anything at all, exist outside of this? He wants it all to be a dream. Nearly squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that it hurts as a haphazard, desperate prayer leaks from his lips. “Dear lord, please. Not now. Not him.” 

He snaps back into action, lit with a flame that sets his skin ablaze and makes his hands shake. Asking with his whole body as he turns to Sloane again. Her gaze is equally so petrified. She’s asking for help. Asking for absolutely anything.

He doesn’t let his voice waver. “Put your hands on his chest.”

Why did it have to come to this? The world’s always been unfair, especially to the boy whose house is like a museum, whose understanding of familial love is warped and hazy, the boy who’s never been kissed. Not just the boy who he met in fifth grade and decided that they were going to be friends forever just because, the one he chose. The one that’s his best friend because no one else deserves the title, because nobody even comes close. The one that listens to him day in and day out, who only gets angry with a smile on his face, who trusts him enough to tell him all of his secrets, who would give up half his day just to make sure that Ferris doesn’t fail another chemistry test, who would face the things that terrify him just to please him. It’s not justified. It’s worse than that, it’s impossible. He wouldn’t dare think of it, not even for a second… but he would put up such a fight that there would be no choice but for someone to listen, for someone to swap their places.

Another action without hesitation, even when the situation reveals that they’re just two terrified teenagers with a life in their hands that doesn’t deserve to be there. They jump into a rhythm, one that they do with frantic security because there’s no other option.

He watches Sloane begin to give Cameron chest compressions, and it’s the kind of thing that puts the entire world into perspective with a sickening flourish. He looks away because he can’t stomach the sight. He closes his eyes again and finds somewhere deep inside him a way to breathe, past his lodged throat and chest constricted in fear so tightly he barely remembers what it’s like not to be enveloped in dread.

And when Ferris catches the new droplets of water that soak into Cameron’s shirt and hears the hiccup of a sob from next to him his heart lurches. He’s loaded with precious words of futile prayers; ready to whisper them along with the air that he forces into Cameron’s lungs. But he doubts that ‘Please’ is a prayer enough, but it has to be. It has to be enough because anything, anything, should be enough. The way his heart aches should be enough, the heft of Sloane’s cries should be enough, the fact that it’s Cameron—sweet, lovable Cameron who has always been enough, someone they cannot live without—the way that the world would crumble without him, it should all be enough.

“Thirty.” Her voice is weak, shuddering out the word. Ferris turns back to her because he doesn’t have a choice. She looks just like he feels. So panicked and entirely powerless. But he manages a breath, and stabilizes Cameron’s head before blowing air into his lungs.

They count again, and Ferris is the one to try. Tries because he doesn’t want Sloane to exhaust herself, and because he needs to busy himself while he waits out the agonizing seconds between one and thirty. Because he can’t be the one to stare as Cameron’s body is forced to accept a new heartbeat. And how it won’t. Ferris offers him a new breath of air. Tilts his chin and touches his cold, unresponsive lips and blows some air in.

“Gd, Fer. It’s not working.” Her voice pools with desperation, snapping her gaze back to his.

“Please. I need you to try. Please.” He’s gripping Cameron’s shoulders tight. Ferris chokes, tearing now because even in the depths of this, Cameron is not this stubborn. Cameron would not be this stubborn. 

A brief flash of something he doesn’t say. ‘You can’t do this. Not before I get the chance to tell you I love you.’

It hurts until it doesn’t. Because he’s hovering over Cameron’s lips and he feels something resembling a breath graze his cheek. There’s a moment and then he’s choking, coughing, gasping.

It’s terrifying to watch someone flounder for air.

It’s wonderful.

The water exits from his lungs. There’s a shudder of breath, and then the steady up and down of his chest circulating air. In and out. Breathing.

The joy that floods them, scrambled with disbelief jolts them with a force they’ve never felt. Sloane registers this and then breaks into unrestrained sobbing. It’s not easy, the change that happens way too quickly; to deal with the certain doom of moments before and now the euphoric opposite. It’s frightening, to think you’ve lost someone and then there they are; you won’t accept that something so wonderful is possible after so much pain. There’s the slam of the brakes but everything is fine. You breathe. You sit back up and you breathe. 

“Oh, fuck.” Cameron’s voice is a whisper, weaker than they’ve ever heard it, but it’s enough.

Their eyes fill with light. Fond, unbridled light that will never leave. They smile their watery smiles, caught between laughter and tears.

They want to touch him, to launch themselves into his arms and never let go, to ensure that he will never suffer again. Sloane brushes his hair from his forehead, cupping his face with her hands. She hiccups again but her voice is so loving. “Cameron. Oh, Cam.” She wants to kiss him. Press some warmth back into him. Technically, Ferris already has. Her tears fall onto his face and she warmly wipes them away.

“Are you alright? Cameron. Please. Are you alright?” Ferris scrambles, exchanging a look with Sloane briefly.

“I’m… okay.” His words are slow and heavy.

“Come on. Here, come on.” Ferris heaves him from behind. They get him sitting. Maybe that’s better.

Sloane gets up slowly, eyeing Ferris. He gives her a sturdy nod and she heads inside. When she returns she has multiple towels in her arms. She hands Ferris the largest one to wrap around Cameron’s shoulders. It’s yellow, like the color of his kitchen. Ferris is rubbing Cameron’s back slowly, comforting him. Stabilizing himself, too. The world has a hard time settling back into normalcy.

“Any better?” Sloane offers cautiously. Her voice is raw as she tries to shroud it with light. From all the screaming. She sits next to him easily.

Cameron doesn’t reply right away. “... You saved my life.” He stares out at the warm afternoon splayed in front of them.

They don’t say anything. They just sit, Sloane’s arm falling over Cameron’s shoulder, Ferris’s arm is around his back. For a while, in the silence. Give the world time to trickle back down. Sloane lets a quiet sob exit her lips, part of the hurt lingers. They don’t say a thing. Cameron leans his head on her shoulder. Her eyes are red and sting as she forces herself to look into the distance. They watch the sun dance on the water’s surface. The trees shiver, every so often, with a particularly hefty breeze. The leaves shake and their heartbeats slow.

After many minutes spent like this, in the strange, warped calm, the uncertain voice of Sloane’s tries to be brave. “My mom will drive you to the hospital.” She centers on the trees and breathes in and out. If she focuses hard enough on the breath, she will stop remembering that she watched… she can’t do it. That her hands brought someone back to life. Someone whose breath is her ears, someone who she loves. Loves, so certainly.

More moments pass by. Finally, Cameron asks them something. “Are you guys okay?”

“Cameron, please.” Her eyes find his own and ask him to for once, center himself in his life. He has done everything to deserve it. Especially now. “Just let us take care of you, okay?” Her hands tangle in her hair restlessly as she presses her shoulder into his side. She can’t bear to answer his question, either. She turns away from him again, because it stings, because he was so close to being unsavable, and yet he chooses to focus on them. It’s the one thing she can’t stand about him. She flickers with the sinking feeling that they have faltered, never reinforced enough that he has earned—as if you have to earn it—the right to place himself where he places them, that he deserves attention, concern, unconditional love. It’s infuriating, because someone this wonderful shouldn’t have to relearn how to put himself first. But at least they could’ve told him.

“But you’re not. I can tell.”

“I mean,” Ferris scoffs, running a hand along his face as he tries to find the words. “having to bring your best friend back to life isn’t exactly all peaches and cream. No way.” He falters, hunching forward. Droplets of water decorate his skin. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I don’t know why I’m getting angry. Jesus, I should be… I don’t know. I’m just sorry, Cam.”

“Why?” He looks at him honestly. “You just saved my life and you’re sorry. Where on Earth are we?” He chuckles, and it lessens the load of their hearts just a little.

But Sloane completely understands what Ferris means. They don’t even need to exchange a knowing glance like they always do, because the thought just wrapped itself around her mind.

“All I’m saying is that it would be just my luck to die and somehow fuck up that process and end up in an alternate dimension where everything is just slightly different.”

“Cameron, don’t you dare.” Sloane scolds him, becoming the sternest he thinks she’s ever been. Her eyes are locked on him and her jaw is set.

“What?” He laughs, because somehow, it’s hard to picture her looking at him like this.

“Don’t… say that! Or just, don’t joke about it.” He can hear what her eyes say. The way they ache to lighten up, to complete her sentence with something softer. She’s never been good at staying angry. 

“Then don’t be sorry. Whatever’s happening, whatever you’re thinking, stop. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

Maybe it’s just foolishness, just the two of them begging for any sense of relief they can get, but the way he says it convinces them. If he is okay, so are they. It’s a chain reaction, one after the other. Or maybe all at once.

Instinctively, they sigh in tandem. Letting the air in their lungs sink into the concrete and bob back up again. They can pretend, pretend it all means nothing. Or just not say that it means everything. Maybe it doesn’t. Who knows anymore. The world was just turned on its head. They have no choice but to afford confusion.

“Do you have something to tell me?” The bodies against his own freeze. All the warmth that was in them has been sucked out. “I mean, just. Y'know, after everything.” He gestures languidly.

“You’re saying that our sudden recognition of life and death makes us more aware of the futility of secret keeping? Huh, never would’ve guessed that.” There’s a warmth flooding back into Ferris’s eyes as he jokes. He continues the dramatics, rolling his eyes.

Cameron matches the energy of his tone. “I’m just saying.” Two can play the nonchalant game. And they know that he can tell that there’s something off. Aside from basically everything. But whatever. Even by the new baseline of things that are somehow now plausible, they feel strange and far away.

“So what? Nothing?” He looks between the two of them. 

“Nuh-uh.” Ferris slips out absentmindedly, as though he’s a stubborn little kid.

“But we’re… never mind. My brain’s still foggy, I guess.” Cameron pushes strands of wet hair away from his face.

“That we’re touching? Is that it?” Ferris asks. No response. They don’t look at each other.

“Do you mind?” He tries again.

A smile that he tries to bite back lights up Cameron’s face. He shakes his head.

“Okay then.” Ferris takes his hand away from his back and shifts, slipping his palm against Cameron’s.

Cameron doesn’t pull away.

Instead, he pulls out a trick they haven’t used in years. He taps out the phrase ‘I love you’ in morse code on Ferris’s skin. He pulls the two of them closer, as if that were possible. Sloane presses a kiss into Cameron’s temple.

They’ll talk about it later. Right now, they just exist together, tangled in the silence. That’s always been enough.

[overplannedbutunnamednpc]

Ecstasy: 4, 31 Legacy: 13, 22 Zephyr: 19, 26!

Ecstasy

4. Things you said instead of “I love you”

“Where’re you getting off to so quickly, darling?”

It wasn’t as if Raini had never stayed the night before. Rather, Ecstasy was hoping that it had become something of a routine. Or if it wasn’t, Ecstasy was big enough to admit that she certainly wanted it to be. Not even for the reason of morning sex - though she did have to admit that there is something very gratifying about how good a mood Raini’s in one hour after waking versus one minute after waking.

“Motherfuckers,” comes the reply, which isn’t actually very surprising.

Ecstasy lies back down, her interest in waking up waning now that she’s got no real reason to stay in bed. “What do they have you doing, then, angel?”

Raini waves her hand vaguely. “The usual. Danger for the reason of doing good.”

“Mm. Classified, huh?” Ecstasy opens her eyes to watch Raini getting dressed, and finds herself sitting up. There’s a scar on her back, angry red, the kind of thing that healing magic was only able to patch up superficially, relying on Raini’s body to do the rest of the work while it went on its merry way to help out with the other deep cuts and breaks that would also have been life-threatening.

She finds herself reaching out to touch it, only interrupted by the curtain of fabric as Raini tugs her robes over her head. Ecstasy blinks, the image of the scar curdling her good humor as Raini pops the cork on the healing potion Ecstasy has so kindly left out on the vanity, Raini taking a few sips every time she comes over to clear away the hickies Ecstasy leaves every time. She imagines that it clears some of the redness of the scar, as well, but finds that her mood is still sour about the whole thing.

Regardless, Raini is responding, in the infuriatingly blasé way that Raini can respond when something either matters a lot or not at all. “And dangerous. I’d never bring you into it. Safer that way, etcetera. Plus Lent would hate it if you interfered.”

Ecstasy has to remind herself not to pout about this. Something about “danger” and “Raini” going together has started to ruffle her feathers, and seeing the physical evidence of that when Raini was meant to be staying way back and being protected by her party -

Well. Anyway.

“You wound me, princess,” Ecstasy says, and lets Raini get her put-upon sigh out of the way before continuing, “Sure you can’t be a few minutes - well, maybe a few hours late?”

She watches Raini turn around, probably intending to give a very clear negative, but then again, Ecstasy cuts a pretty nice figure sprawled across the bed, naked with her tail flicking in something Raini doesn’t have to know is frustration at the ‘danger’ part of this situation. So as soon as there’s a flicker of considering on the wizard’s face, Ecstasy pounces.

“C’mon, cupcake. I’ll be gentle with you.”

And it gets her a scoff and an eye roll, of course.

But it also gets her a kiss before she makes her way out.

31. Things you said that you wouldn’t have if it were light out

It’s absolutely on Ecstasy, the fact that Raini’s sound asleep and she’s not. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be, it’s just that she’d gone out to piss after everything and Raini had fallen fast asleep in the two or three minutes she’d been gone.

Ecstasy unwraps the robe she’d donned to keep the crew from being alternatively intrigued or affronted by her naked body, thanks her lucky stars that she has hooves and doesn’t have to worry about putting on and taking off her boots for a trek like that, and, however illogically, doesn’t lay down yet. Instead, she sits on the edge of the bed, the slight movement making Raini stir but not bother waking up yet, and she cocks her head down at the wizard.

“Angel,” she tries, wondering.

Raini barely reacts. Hm.

Ecstasy’s already put out her lamp, so her wizard’s face is all shades of gray with her darkvision. Still, she can imagine every color that lights itself on Raini’s face usually - the pink of her cheeks, the gray-blue of her eyes, the slight glow of the arcane sometimes buzzing around her. It’s probably good that it’s dark, though, because Ecstasy doesn’t think she’d be doing this if it wasn’t.

Not sure what “this” is, exactly, but it culminates in her brushing Raini’s hair back, shushing the discontented mutter it gets her, and pulling the sheet up over her bare shoulder.

Hm.

Ecstasy rolls her eyes at herself and crosses back over to her side of the bed, pulling the sheets down and joining Raini, slotting her body against Raini’s back. Raini’s pulled herself into a ball, but she’s still expressed that she likes Ecstasy’s warmth (“So you really like how hot I am, huh?” “Would you shut up?”) so, spooning it is.

Ecstasy, even as she makes fun of herself for doing so, moves Raini’s hair out of the way and presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Sweet dreams, firefly,” she says, relishing in the lack of a response. That’s better, for her. “See you in the morning.”

And then she settles in to sleep, herself.

Legacy

13. Things you said that were important to you

It’s kind of more what she doesn’t say. The conversation is already moving on without them, but Legacy is caught, just a bit, in Frey’s gaze.

She has the sudden feeling that Frey Holt is the kind of good that makes just about everyone figure out just how bad they are.

It twists something in her stomach, and Legacy’s lips press together when Frey tells her, “Kindness is free, even to people it’s easy to be unkind to.”

GD and their new friends are talking about dinner, so Legacy doesn’t say, “Kindness is never free. Especially not to people who are unkind to you. It’s not even free to people who are.”

She doubts that Frey would agree with her, first and foremost, and more than that she doesn’t know what, exactly, her argument would be. Coming from Legacy, the argument would be rich - hypocritical, considering she’s spent part of her life lying to strangers for money. But it isn’t free. If Legacy were more inclined to be shitty towards Frey she’d probably give a jab about how Frey doesn’t even know how banks work, how should she know what’s free and what’s not?

Frey’s kindness isn’t free. She can’t really think it is. Frey’s kindness, at least the kindness that Legacy’s seen, is turning herself into the smallest dog possible because GD is scared of her, even when it’s obvious how much she likes being large and wolfish and wild. Frey’s kindness is hurricanes and lightning storms in the middle of a city, just to keep people safe, people she met only a few days prior. Less than a few, even. Frey’s kindness is sinking a spell into nothing more than a scrape. Maybe Frey means that her kindness doesn’t put someone in debt to her for it, but there’s still a sunk cost. It’s still not free.

And it’s not naivete, either, Legacy doesn’t think, because she’s seen other types of kindness, too, even just from the few people she’s interacted with so far in the city.

GD’s kindness is letting herself feel the fear when Frey transforms, just so Frey can be that dog or wolf. Sunk cost. Cardea’s kindness is sitting for an hour listening to flutes so she can make sure a criminal is at rest. Sunk cost. Wén Xuěliàng and Yáo Jìngwǎn approached a couple of people talking about murder just to put a ghost to rest, Arianell gave a protective contract to a bunch of basically-nobodies because they’d done a good job and agreed in good faith not to hurt anyone unnecessarily, Klymene granted a random wizard protection just because they’d asked. Sunk cost, sunk cost, sunk cost. None of it is free.

And that’s all to people they like. To people they have no reason to be unkind to. If Frey thinks she’s taking nothing from herself to apologize to a man who only doesn’t want her dead because his people fled in thirty seconds, she’s lying to herself, and she’s certainly lying to Legacy.

But she doesn’t say any of this. And the rest of them are already walking, talking, insisting on paying for dinner.

(More kindness. More sunk cost. Gratitude, sure, but kindness, and still - not free. Quite literally, in this case.)

Legacy wonders how much of that Frey can read off of her, as she starts walking, too, leaving Legacy a little lost.

She stomps a hoof on the ground, once, casts her eyes upward, and walks a bit faster to catch up.

22. Things you said after making a bad decision

(for my dnd party, just to be clear: bad decision is HEAVILY in quotation marks. i love party coherency and so does legacy. but also aren’t all bad party decisions (and there by definition have to be Many) precipitated by One decision, the one to BECOME a party? i rest my case.)

There’s a scream on the docks, which isn’t really a new thing because the crush of the Os Kvelya docks are always loud and there’s always someone screaming at someone else.

But this is a scream. Proper, horrified.

Much more interesting than a walk home, anyway. Legacy alters her course immediately.

She’s not the only one. None of them are city guards, or anything, but there’s three - creatures, considering one of them is a large white wolf - and a clearly distressed human woman, pale as anything and probably the reason for the screaming. The other three, wolf included, seem to have “inspecting the body” down, so Legacy focuses on the woman instead. Having a possible witness passing out on them won’t do anyone any favors.

She keeps an eye on the investigation, though. After a minute, she decides to involve herself. The woman-who-was-a-wolf gives her findings first: “He got stabbed! With a big knife. In his ribs.”

And Legacy replies, invested: “You hate to see it. Do any of you three know him? I'm assuming not.”

Considering the screaming woman is the only one who looks with any fear towards the corpse, and no one else seems to be taking time from their investigation to grieve quietly, sob loudly, or beat their chests in misdirected anger, Legacy has to assume.

It takes her on a bit of a whirlwind, too. Stabbing on a dock leads to necromancy leads to a boat to brunch then to a criminal court, and so on and so forth to a fight with a necromancer. It’s about there that Legacy realizes that she should regret this. Chalk up the whole thing as a bad decision and get back on the road after a few more days in the city.

Except.

She finds herself in a bathhouse with them later, her wounds healed, instead of bandaged like they would have been if she were alone, scrubbing grime off of her and enjoying easy conversation with the two women who aren’t deep in their own heads right now.

The bard, GD (whatever that may stand for), says, “It’s nice to be among friends, if you all would like to stick around.”

And Legacy finds herself not minding the idea. It’s only hours after they meet, with Legacy only half-trying to keep her eyes off a very pretty set of tits, and she says, “GD, I think I'd like to stick around. Those who solve a murder together stay together, etcetera.”

And that, despite what she intellectually knows, the fact that necromancers and Reveries and Asmodeus and going after them all are generally considered bad decisions - well, she’ll just see what happens. She’s got a good feeling about it nonetheless.

Zephyr

19. Things you said when nothing bigger concerned you

“Sir Gentry,” Zephyr coos, chuffing him under his chin. “Pretty boy.”

He chirps at them and blinks, and Zephyr grins. “Okay. Off the desk. I have to study and you’re not very conducive to that.”

They pick him up and set him down, turning back to the spellbook she’d used the Academy funds to buy. Before this it was a shitty three-copper notebook that she took great pains to conceal, but this is a proper spellbook, with thick pages and a pretty purple leather cover. It’s the most luxurious thing Zephyr’s ever owned, and smells a little bit like lavender.

“All I have to do is impress them,” Zephyr tells themself, though she’s not sure exactly who “they” are yet, and don’t yet know how to impress. Their innate magic is very different from the spells they’ve been able to grasp so far - where Zephyr can remember the sparkling feeling of accidentally casting dancing lights or faerie fire on herself, this is nothing of the sort.

This is memorization, more, going over and over incantation and effect and intent and theory in their mind until they have magic concentrated like a beating heart and mind together in their body, just waiting to be released.

It’s the way they’ve learned to make it work. Their professors describe something different, but Zephyr has felt the welling feeling of possibility on the tip of their tongue, and can’t imagine any other way of casting. They’re no longer casting with her joy, but they’re still casting with everything of herself she can throw into it. Today, they’re content.

They open their spellbook proper, the lines on their face hardening as they concentrate. They know how to do this, or something like this. Like they’d said, all she has to do is impress. They’ll start breathing magic.

That’s plenty impressive.

26. Things you said while lying about yourself

“Zephyranthes Mirimm,” she says, holding out her hand.

Lona Mirimm looks at her with vague distrust in her eyes. Zephyr tries not to make it seem like it matters to her.

“I’ve never heard of you,” Lona says.

Zephyr waves that off. It’s easy to rebut, that. She’s practiced it a thousand times, preparing for this. “I doubt you would have. I’m not one of the generational Mirimms like I expect you are - my parents aren’t even Rosohnans. I’m from Asarius, originally. It’s so nice to meet you!”

She gives Lona a wide smile that they hope isn’t going to be seen through, and Lona finally takes her hand, then. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

One Mirimm down, Zephyr thinks to themself. Hopefully no more to go.

They’re not sure how far their pedigree will actually stretch, though she’s sure that when she does better than good in the Academy, no one will think to check.

She looks over her shoulder as she leaves Lona, accidentally catching her gaze. Zephyr blinks, jerks her head back to the front, and focuses on the tap-click of her new heels as she hurries down the hall.

[whimsandvanillalattes]

"You?" (Part 1)

Pairing: Kwon Jiyong (G Dragon) x Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU, Romance, a dash of angst, sorta fluffy in later parts

Soulmate AU Prompt: Soulmates have identical counters that count the number of times they have passed their soulmate.

Part: 1/?

Part 2

Five year old Kwon Jiyong found the little counter on his friend’s arm fascinating. But five year old Kwon Jiyong grew extremely frustrated when he realized that all his other five year old friends had similar ones on their arms or legs, but he didn’t have one. So he decided he didn’t want to play anymore and dragged his sister—who was supposed to be looking after him but really was just playing with her friends in another part of the park they were at—back home with him. On the way, he noticed that even she had one on her left forearm. He didn’t cry, but he felt tears well up in his eyes. This was just not fair. Everyone had a counter. Why didn’t he have one too?

He could only hold back his tears until he got home, ran to the bathroom and took off his shirt in front of the mirror only to find that he didn’t have a counter anywhere on his body. Then he started wailing. When his mother, panicking, asked him what was wrong, he told her between sobs that he wanted a counter too. That day was when he first heard the word soulmate. She told him that everyone had a counter that told them how many times they had crossed paths with their soulmate—the other half of them. Jiyong didn’t have one because his soulmate hadn’t been born yet.

The first thing Jiyong did every morning since that day was to stand in front of a mirror and inspect his body for a counter. He still didn’t quite understand the entire concept, but he didn’t want to miss his soulmate’s birth. Sometimes, he even checked thrice a day, but no matter how many times he did, the counter wouldn’t show up. He would even become angry with his soulmate at times (“Why can’t they be born already?” he would think) but then the image of a cute newborn baby he had once conjured in his mind to be his soulmate would surface and his anger would disappear. But Jiyong turned six, and then seven, and then eight and the counter never showed up.

By the time he was ten, he was the only person in his class who didn’t have a counter. At this point, though, it didn’t bother him. Of course, the cute baby’s image would pop up in his head occasionally and he still wanted a soulmate, but he had stopped checking for a counter all the time. Jiyong was busy these days, being an SM trainee and all. And it was so tiring that he often found himself dozing off during class. So the day his counter appeared, he was struggling to keep his eyes open and almost missed his soulmate’s birth. The boy sitting next to him nudged him hard—Jiyong was convinced that it would bruise—and he woke from his half-slumber with a start. His friend nodded towards his hand and Jiyong saw a tiny black dot on the inside of his right wrist that definitely was not there before.

Jiyong’s heart leapt up to his throat and he bolted from the class, shouting an excuse of needing to use the toilet on his way out. After all the years of waiting and excitement and annoyance, he was not prepared for his soulmate’s birth. He eventually found himself sitting on the floor against a wall in an empty corridor, holding his breath and staring unblinking at his wrist. The tiny dot had gotten bigger and was slowly growing. Jiyong wasn’t exactly sure how long birth took but his soulmate sure was taking pretty long. The dot eventually stopped being a dot. It was now more like a curve. He found himself wishing he could see his soulmate being born instead of looking at a counter form on his wrist.

When it looked like the counter had almost fully formed, a sound distracted Jiyong and he looked up from his wrist. There was no one around, which was strange because Jiyong could swear he heard a baby crying. When he looked back at his wrist, the counter was already complete. In place of the dot was a delicate 0. A variety of emotions overcame him, but mainly he felt an extreme happiness and overflowing love and protectiveness for this newborn. The cute little baby’s image popped up in his mind again and he instinctively knew that his soulmate looked exactly as he had pictured. His face broke into the brightest smile and he just stared at his wrist for a moment. Gathering some courage, he laid a gentle kiss onto his counter, then broke into a fit of giggles.

“Congratulations on being born, little baby,” he whispered.

His teacher scolded him when he got back to class but Jiyong didn’t care. He was over the moon. That day, he even practiced extra hard. He wanted to be perfect, so that when they finally met, his soulmate would think of him as the coolest person ever.

Thirty year old Jiyong had been through almost every experience one could go through. He had debuted with BIGBANG under YG, had faced difficulties in the beginning of his career and was now generally regarded as the ‘King of K-pop’. He had looks, talent, fame and money. He had millions of fans screaming his name. But he still hadn’t met his soulmate. World tours resulted in nothing, fanmeets, while giving him the chance to greet the fans he was so grateful for, showed no sign of them, and nights out with friends were fruitless too. He had no lead to search for them either. He had only heard crying, and every baby’s crying sounded almost the same. His soulmate probably had a better lead, but sometimes it seemed like they weren’t really looking for him at all. He had to admit, he hadn’t been a saint while waiting. He had had all sorts of flings, as well as some serious relationships that made him feel like he didn’t really need his soulmate. But whenever they ended, the longing for his other half would come back, stronger than ever. He often wondered if his soulmate was in a relationship like that, and if they didn’t want him at all.

-

You’ve had a soulmate counter since you were born, unlike many of your friends. They got theirs later, meaning their respective soulmates were younger than them. Yours, on the other hand, was older than you, though no one could tell how much older. You, however, had reason to believe that he was quite a few years older than you. He had to be at least old enough to be able to speak clearly when you were born. How did you know? You had heard him speak.

Since you ever a baby, you had often heard a boy (who was never anywhere near you no matter how hard you looked for him) gently whispering in a language you couldn’t quite understand. Even though you didn’t know what he was saying, you would think of his voice whenever you hurt yourself while playing or your parents scolded you, and it would give you comfort. You told your parents about this strange voice in your head when you were about six and they explained that it was your soulmate’s voice. In addition to matching soulmate counters, soulmates could clearly hear and recall the first thing their significant other had said after the counter appeared. What you kept hearing were his first words after you were born. Even years later, you could hear them, and the little giggles that had accompanied, perfectly.

Your parents took you to a language expert to find out where your soulmate was from. After several (hundred) failed attempts, you were able to replicate what he had said and were told that he was Korean. His first words to you roughly translated to “Congratulations on being born, little baby.” You had always wanted to meet your soulmate but when you discovered what he said, six year old you absolutely fell in love with him (well, you’ve always been a dramatic person). And so did your mom, coincidentally, because “he’s such a sweet boy!” You began to learn Korean not long after, and applied to every Korean university you could think of in high school. You got accepted in a university in Seoul and moved, fully believing that you would find him soon.

Of course, that was easier said than done. You knew nothing about your soulmate except that he had a counter identical to yours on his right wrist. Even the voice you remembered had probably changed drastically over the years. You had no way of knowing if he even lived in Seoul, or in Korea for that matter. So two years later, you were doing well in your classes and worked part time at a coffee shop, but no matter how many blind dates you went on or how many times your walked around the city instead of taking a taxi or a bus in the hopes of crossing him, your counter still read 0.

A/N:

My first fic! I wanted to do a GD soulmate AU because second gen idols don’t really have a lot of soulmate AUs written about them. Also, I know he’s 31 now but I started writing this way back in March (and then ended up procrastinating too much), and the story is supposed to be set a few months before he gets discharged from the military, hence he is 30 here. I’ll try to be regular with updates (if school doesn’t get in the way). Do let me know what you think!

[sad-space-monkey-boi]

In my body I'm a disaster

Tw for self harm/attempted suicide and briefly mentioned noncon

Title from Body by SYML

Gonna tag some Luther-positive blogs: @lonelyboy-in-space @umbrellawhumpslut @queerhargreeves @umbrella-babies @protect-luther-hargreeves @001-spaceboy @justletmeremember @martiansourcream

Luther knew that he was his sibling's least favorite. It was common knowledge. Diego was the rebel, Allison was the the pretty one, Klaus was the jokester, Luther was the Annoying one. Annoying, overbearing, selfish, rude, and mean. That's what his siblings thought of him.

He sat in his bathroom, staring at his reflection in the broken mirror. A monster. That's what Diego had called him. He was right, of course. Daddy's perfect little soldier never questioned him and that's how he became a monster. An ugly, hairy, horrible monster.

Shards of glass lay on the counter and floor, long since broken by his fist. He thought of the moon, about how lonely and yet beautiful it was. He may have been lonely, but his family didn't have to deal with him. He had hurt everyone. Ben died in his arms, Five vanished. He had hurt Vanya.

He picked up a glass shard and pressed it to his skin. They would be better off without him anyways, right? ------------------------------

"LUTHER! MOM WANTS YOU DOWNSTAIRS!" Diego yelled up the stairs. After getting no answer, he ran up and walked to his door. "LUTHER!"

He turned the door handle, entering his brother's room. He saw glass and model rockets covering the floor. "Luther?"

Diego picked one of the model rockets up off the floor, then noticed the bathroom door ajar down the hall. He stood up slowly and crept towards the bathroom. He came face to face with a scene out of a horror movie. The sound of shattering wood filled the air as the model rocket fell out of his hand.

"Oh my Gd." ----------------------

When Diego had called for their help, the other five didn't expect to find their "eldest" brother lying in a pool of his own blood. Now, Grace was patching up Luther's self-inflicted wounds, and the other six were sitting, trying their individual bests not to cry.

Vanya leaned on Ben's shoulder, silent sobs racking her shoulders. Klaus had his face buried in his hands, smudging his eyeliner, and Five was lying on Allison's lap, eyes tightly shut. Diego sat by himself, staring blankly at his blood-covered hands.

Luther layed on the cot, looking strangely at peace, considering the events taking place. He was breathing softly, mouth ajar, and his siblings took comfort in the rise and fall of his chest. Grace finished wrapping up the last wound, laying a gentle hand on his brow, and let artificial tears slip down her cheeks. What was that saying again? No mother should outlive their child? Grace had lived that before with Ben's death, and came close with Five. Now she had just narrowly dodged losing another.

By the time Luther's eyes fluttered open, Five, Vanya, Ben, and Klaus were asleep, leaving Allison and Diego watching over their siblings. His first reaction was panick. 'Can't I do anything right?' He thought bitterly as He tried ripping the IV out of his arm. Diego's head snapped up and he rushed to his brother's aid. "No, no don't do that! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

'Thats kind of the point, Diego.' Luther mused, glaring darkly at him. Allison quickly roused the others, who quickly ran to his side. They all sat in a quiet relief, thanking powers that they didn't believe in for their brother's quick recovery.

No-one really knew what to say, so they didn't say anything for a while. Vanya, unable to stand the uncomfortable silence anymore, said softly, "Lu, can I ask you why?"

Luther looked at her, eyes filled with anxiety and dejection. He ran his hand over his face, and sighed deeply. "I- I just...." His eyes filled with tears, and Ben grabbed his hand and held it with a firm, yet ghostlike grip. "You know you can tell us anything, we just wanna help you."

After a moment, Luther finally spoke up again. "I just, can't anymore. I've done nothing but hurt you, all of you! I hurt Vanya, I locked her up, she needed my help, and I- I wasn't watching Klaus at that party, and he DIED! Ben died, on my watch! I did so much, and then there was that thing with that woman, and with Dad, I just......" at this point his quiet tears had turned into loud weeping."Diego was right, I am a monster." He mumbled through his tears.

"Luther, I was wrong. I was lashing out an-and angry, I'm s-sorry. You're not a monster! You're the best brother we could ask for, and we l-love you!"

Allison nodded in agreement. "Before the divorce, all that Claire would talk about is how cool her Uncle Luther was. She would brag to all the kids at her Pre-School that her uncle was a superhero who lived in space. She's always wante to meet you,"

His family's statements seemed to make his crying worse. Ben tightened his grip on his hand and said, "Luther, me dying? That wasn't your fault. It was on me, and I can never thank you enough for being there for me when I died. We all know you love us, and we love you. Never doubt that again."

Vanya sat on the cot and buried her head into her sobbing brother's shoulder. One by one, the others joined her. "It's okay to cry, we're here for you. We always will be."

Grace walked in the door, having made hot cocoa for all of her children. She put the tray on the counter and sat beside them. Luther looked at her, tears subsiding, and smiled softly. She returned the smile and kissed his forehead. She roused her children from their group-hug and handed out the cocoa. They all sat in a comfortable silence, still leaning on their brother. They may not be okay now, but they would get there, helping each other through it all.

[writingisbetterthandying]

Misunderstanding - GD

A/N: This was the first fic-fic I actually wrote so I edited it so let’s see how it does!

legitimately very cringy but I chose to keep it up! I wrote this in 2018?

Warnings: Language, Angst

Word Count: 1.8k

Your POV

I love Grayson Bailey Dolan. That is a fact. A well known fact to almost everybody, or at least that's what I thought.

We met three years ago in Jersey, when I was with my grandparents for the summer. I was reaching for a pancake mix, but it had been conveniently placed on the very top shelf. A cute boy with brown hair saw me struggling handed me the box.

We exchanged numbers and talked for a while before heading our separate ways. That boy was Grayson.

We spent the entire summer together [with Ethan too] and then I had found out that they would be moving to LA, where I already lived. We've been dating for almost three years, and it's been a dream. One of the reasons why we've lasted this long is our shared love for film, which is actually why I'm still in LA (besides the twins), is that I'm in film school, and I help them film all the time.

I'm working on a project for one of my classes, and to switch things up, I decided to use my friend Kian as a subject. The twins also happened to be in New York at the moment for TRL, but I still did want to spend time with Kian. Things were always a little tense with the twins and Kian, with the whole Meredith situation, but they both respected my relationship with the other. 

Kian being one of my best friends, had asked me to come over and hang out, and then I asked him if his house members would want to be in my short film. 

They said yes, so I drove over with all of my equipment. 

When I knocked on the door, JC answered and we caught up a little before Kian saw me and toppled me before I even got through the door. 

"You ready to film!!?!??" He practically yelled into my ear. 

"Okay first off, lower your voice, and don’t forget Lawley, this is still my project."

"Yes ma'am," he said with a little salute. 

Almost 3 hours later, filming was done.

"Great job everybody! Thank you for allowing me to do my film y’all, I should get home and edit, but I'll see you guys soon and send you the finished project!"

I was met with a cacophony of "But it's late!" "You should stay the night" "Don't go Y/N!" "We love you please stay!"

I finally gave in, slipped my shoes back off, put down my bag, and plopped on the couch.

"Okay then, what movie are we watching?"

"Well are you guys ready for a Jim Carrey marathon?"

Shouts of disagreement were spread out throughout the room.

"Rude- like you didn't have to be so mean about it like I thought we were friends guys! I thought you guys loved me but I guess none of you would care if I just locked myself in my room all night and cried. Like-" Bobby on the opposite couch had had enough.

"Kian if you don't shut up right now I swear I will lock you out of the house and clear out your room and you can find it all on the curb tomorrow morning."

"But then Y/N could just welcome me into her home."

I shook my head and told him he was on his own, and in return was promptly flipped off.

We eventually started a High School Musical marathon but soon everyone went to their rooms or fell asleep, so it was just me and Kian. He turned to me once the movie ended.

"Y/N, wake up!" I groaned in response, still only half awake.

"You should spend the night man, it’s late."

At this I startled awake, remembering that the twins were supposed to come in from their flight around this time.

"No- I have to get home!"

"Wait why? It’s after midnight?"

"I don't know when Gray gets back, well I do, but you know it’s late, and I want to be there when he gets home."

"God, you're such a nice girlfriend. Okay, go home, but please be safe driving!"

"Thank you Kian, I love you!"

"Love you too now go get your mans!"

I finally got home after the short drive and got up to the house. Once I unlocked the door, I screamed at first, because I was scared that it could have been an intruder, and then it turned to excitement. Gray was home.

"Hi bubba I'm glad you're home!" I leaned in to hug Gray, but he didn't accept the embrace. "Is everything okay? How was set?"

"I dunno, how about you ask Kian," he responded curtly. He seemed tense and honestly pissed.

"You know Kian is just a friend, bubba." Who does he think he is?

Grayson's POV: 3 hours ago

We had boarded the plane a while ago when Ethan showed me a picture of my girlfriend all cuddled up with Kian on Harrison's instagram. The caption was "harrisonwebb97 the gabriella to his troy.

"What the hell is this??"

"Gray, they're just friends. I don’t like him but they’re close. "

"Friends don't hold each other like that. And that caption too- like what the fuck dude?"

"She's known Kian for forever though, have trust in her, plus like look at everyone right next to them too."

"I'll text her later." I did text her later, a lot actually.

where are you?

getting on the plane...

i love you

is your phone off?

please answer me

y/n answer me wtf is going on rn

are you having fun?

kian looks like he's having a blast, holding you like that

i bet you and kian hooked up after that picture on harrison's instagram

well now i'm not the only one in LA.  

whatever, I'll see you at home

maybe I should have kissed that fan at the airport, she probably would be less of a slut then you.

Delivered 11:34 pm

I left voicemails too. I knew they were just friends, but she would've answered me by now- she always answers. The delay could only mean one thing. At first I was upset and hurt but now I'm pissed. This is all so stupid.

Grayson's POV: Present

"And friends lend each other sweatshirts." She should know what she did.

"What are you talking about?"

It took her a while before she realized she was wearing Kian's sweatshirt. "He gave it to me while we were watching the movies, I was cold, that's all."

"That doesn't even make sense but what were you doing there in the first place?"

Your POV

Now I was mad. I thought that after everything he would understand that I was loyal to him and only him. He knows that Kian and I are friends.

"I was there to shoot my project and then they asked me to stay for some movies! And it’s just a damn jacket, Gray." He wasn't the only one angry now.

"Well why didn't you answer your phone?"

"My phone was off? You know that- whenever I shoot I have my phone off! Sorry I forgot to turn it back on? What’s your deal right now, because you’re getting so aggro I’m starting to get mad.”

"Check your phone." His face was stoic, and he completely dismissed my words.

I read the messages. All of them. I didn't even want to think about what was on that voicemail. He knew my insecurities-he knows them.

His words had tears starting to trickle down my face, "You don't trust me?" How could he be so presumptive? There’s never been anything like that between Kian and I or anyone else but him for that matter.

"Why should I? I mean you're the one whoring around." His face was blank- and it was scary. Scary how when he’s usually just such a bright and uplifting person, to this dark and angry guy.

The tears just kept on coming, and I could do nothing to stop them. After everything, and this is how he treats me? After one post on social media, he’s calling me such horrible names?

He started to turn away towards the door with his still packed suitcase.

"Three years," I mumbled through my tears. He probably couldn't even be bothered to hear me.

"What?" As he turned around I could tell he was annoyed, but I was heartbroken because my boyfriend, or ex boyfriend- whatever he was now- had said these things. I couldn’t believe how the person I trust the most could be saying such vile and hateful things.

"Three years of trust, of an honest and strong relationship! Gray- I love you. I love you and only you. I thought we had established that but I guess we aren’t on the same page. Kian and I have never been anything more than friends, and you know he has a thing for Franny. I was cold! That was all! I turn my phone off when I film, and you of all people should know this. When I walked through that door I expected to see the man I love almost as excited to see me as I was for him, because of how much I love and miss you. You know that I trust you. You know how I feel about the literal millions of girls pining after you day after day, yet somehow I’m the one you chose. I thought that we had a mutual understanding and that we both trusted another and that we loved each other. I love you Grayson Bailey Dolan. Why can't you see it? Everyone else can."

At the last line I fell to my knees as I sobbed. My body wouldn't stop shaking and my face was probably all blotchy and puffy but I didn't care, I just felt heartbroken.

Grayson's POV

I knew I fucked up. We've gotten into fights before, but nothing too major, and they've been small and it ends with some ice cream. Cute and happy couple-y shit. Not tonight- tonight the only sound in the apartment was the sound of her soft and shaking sobs.

"Look I'm sorry I neve-"

"Why? I mean the things you said," she croaked, and I felt my heart break when I saw the look in her eyes, filled with sadness and fear.

"I was scared, I mean like Look at Kian! He could have anyone." She started to almost laugh? I swear I heard her chuckle.

"Grayson, I told you. Kian has a thing for Franny, and it is mutual, they just aren't official yet. I love you, and only you, and Kian's my friend and all, but I would never actually date him. He’s basically my brother! I don’t see why you can’t just believe what I have to say!”

She was still crying and all I wanted was to hold her. And to apologize over and over again, and to tell her how stupid I was for ever making her so upset.

I wrapped my arms around her, and while she still was tense, she relaxed slightly. I rocked the two of us in silence for a bit, then decided to speak. 

"I'm an idiot." She scoffed at that.

"That has been established."

"And an asshole."

"Yes."

"And extremely jealous..."

"No shit Sherlock! What the hell was that!" She slapped my arm with that, but I know she intended no harm. 

"...and a terrible boyfriend." This received no response, so I continued. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I should never have said the things that I did, regardless of if it was an impulsive move or not. Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N I love you and I fucked up. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I promise to never doubt your love and trust again. Hell, I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to spend eternity with you, and there's no way you’re getting rid of me. I want to raise a family with you. I want to move back to Jersey with you, I want to live my life with you, and I want everything, but I only want it with you-and now you're crying again." She had turned around, and was holding me close. 

"You want a family in Jersey? With me?" She looked up at me with tears still in her eyes, this time hopefully happy tears, but she still sounded scared and unsure. That uncertainty in our future made me feel so horrible.

"Of course. You're the one thing always on my mind and I love you, and only you, forever and always."

"Forever and always" she whispered, and she looked up at me, and now she's actually smiling! "Bailey, I love you, but don't test me again, okay?" she was finally wiping the tears off of her beautiful face.

"I got you Y/N, and I love you too, now lets go to bed okay?"

"Okay."

It would be alright, with time, but for now, they both just needed to hold each other and sleep it off.

[mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl]

Now 2~G-Dragon Pt.13

Genre:Angst/SMUT

Rated:NSFW

Pairing: GD X Reader

wordcount:3,702

Masterlist

DISCLAIMER!:remember this is just an edit of an original book called after by anna todd i do not own this book

JIYONG POV

I’ve never been so honest with anyone before. But I want everything to be out on the table.

She starts crying and asks softly, “How will I know that you won’t hurt me again?”

I could tell she was trying to hold her tears in the whole time, but I’m glad she can’t anymore. I needed to see some emotion from her . . . she’s been so cold lately. So unlike her. I used to be able to tell what she was thinking by her eyes alone. Now a wall is up, blocking me from reading her the way only I can. I pray to God that the time we spent together today will work in my favor.

That and my honesty. “You won’t. Y/N, I can assure you that I will hurt you again. You will hurt me, too, but I can also assure you that I’ll never keep anything from you or betray you again. You may say some shit that you don’t mean, and God knows that I will, but we can work through our problems because that’s what people do. I just need this one last chance to show you that I can be the man you deserve. Please, Y/N. Please . . .” I beg.

She stares at me with red eyes, chewing on the inside of her cheek. I hate to see her this way, and I hate myself for making her this way.

“You love me, don’t you?” I ask, afraid of her answer.

“Yes. More than anything.” She admits with a sigh.

I can’t hide my stirrings of a smile. Hearing her say that she still loves me brings the life back into me. I’ve been so worried that she was going to give up on me, stop loving me and move on. I don’t deserve her, and I know that she’s aware of that.

But my mind is reeling, and she is being too quiet. I can’t handle the distance. “What can I do, then? What do I need to do so we can get through this?” I ask desperately. I use too much emphasis—I know because of how she looks at me, like she’s suddenly scared, or annoyed, or . . . I don’t know what. “I said the wrong thing, didn’t I.” I bring my hands to my face and wipe the moisture from my eyes. “I knew I would, you know I’m not good with words.”

I’ve never been this emotional in my entire life, and it doesn’t feel good. I’ve never had to or even cared to express my emotions to anyone but I will do anything for this girl. I always fuck everything up, but I have to fix this, or try as hard as I can.

“No . . .” she sobs. “I’m just . . . I don’t know. I want to be with you. I want to forget everything, but I don’t want to regret it. I don’t want to be that girl, the one who gets walked all over and treated like shit and just puts up with it.”

I lean toward her and ask, “To who? Who are you worried will think that?”

“Everyone, my mother, your friends . . . you.”

I knew that’s what it was. I knew that she was more worried about what she should do rather than what she wants to do. “Don’t think about anyone else. Who gives a shit what anyone else thinks? For once just consider what you want—what makes you happy?”

With big, round, beautiful, bloodshot, and crying eyes, she says, “You.” And my heart leaps. “I’m so tired of keeping everything in. I’m exhausted by all of the things I haven’t said and wanted to say,” she adds.

“Then don’t keep it in anymore,” I tell her.

“You make me happy, Jiyong. But you also make me miserable, angry, and—most of all—you make me insane.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? That’s why we’re so good together, Y/N, because we are terrible for each other.” She makes me insane, too, and angry, but happy. So happy.

“We are terrible for each other,” she says with a small smile.

“We are,” I repeat and return her smile. “I love you, though. More than anyone ever could, and I swear I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you if you just let me.”

I hope she can hear the rawness in my voice, how badly I want her forgiveness. I need it—I need her like I’ve never needed anything before, and I know she loves me. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t, though I can’t believe I just said “the rest of my life”—that might freak her out.

When she doesn’t say anything else, my heart breaks. And just before I feel more tears coming, I whisper, “I’m so sorry, Y/N . . . I love you so much—”

She catches me completely off guard when she darts across the space between us and climbs onto my lap. I bring my hands to her beautiful face, and she takes a deep breath, leaning her cheek into the palm of my hand.

She looks up at me. “I need it to be on my terms. I won’t be able to make it through another heartbreak.”

“Whatever it takes. I just want to be with you,” I tell her.

“We have to take it slow, I shouldn’t be doing this at all . . . If you hurt me again, I’ll never forgive you, ever,” she threatens.

“I won’t. I swear it.” I’d rather die than hurt her again. I still can’t believe she’s giving me another chance.

“I really have missed you so much, Jiyong .”

Her eyes close and I want to kiss her, I want to feel her lips hot against mine, but she just told me she wants to take it slow. “I missed you, too.”

She rests her forehead against mine and I let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. “We’re really doing this, then?” I ask, trying not to sound as desperately relieved as I feel.

She sits up and I look into her eyes. The eyes that have haunted me every time I close my own for the last week. She smiles and nods her head. “Yeah . . . I guess we are.”

My arms wrap around her waist and she leans into me once more. “Kiss me?” I practically beg.

She doesn’t try to hide her amusement as she touches my forehead, brushing my hair back. God, I love when she does that.

“Please?” I say.

And she silences me by pressing her lips against mine.

Y/N POV

My mouth immediately opens, and he doesn’t miss the opportunity to slip his tongue into it. The metal of his lip ring is cool against my lips, and I run my tongue along its smooth surface. The familiar taste of him ignites me, like it always has. No matter how hard I fight it, I need him. I need to be close to him, I need him to comfort me, to challenge me, to annoy me, to kiss me, and to love me. My fingers tangle themselves in his hair, and I tug at the soft strands when his grip on my waist tightens. He said everything I wanted and needed to hear to feel better about my reckless decision to allow him back into my life . . . even though he never actually left. I know I should’ve held out longer, tortured him with waiting the way he tortured me with his lies, but I couldn’t. This isn’t the movies. This is real life—my life—and my life isn’t complete or even tolerable without him. This tattooed, rude, angry boy has gotten under my skin and into my heart, and I know that no matter how hard I try, I can’t get him out.

His tongue skims my bottom lip and I’m slightly embarrassed when a moan escapes my throat. When I pull away, we’re both out of breath and my skin is hot and his cheeks are flushed.

“Thank you for giving me another chance,” he pants and pulls me into his chest.

“You act like I had a choice.”

He frowns. “You do.”

“I know,” I lie. But I haven’t had a choice since I met him. I’ve been completely gone for him since the first time we kissed.

“Where do we go from here?” I ask him.

“That’s up to you. You know what I want.”

“I want to be like we were before . . . well, how we were without all the other stuff,” I tell Jiyong , and he nods.

“That’s what I want, too, baby. I’ll make this up to you, I promise.”

Every time Jiyong calls me baby my stomach flutters. The mixture of his raspy voice, his British accent, and the gentleness behind his tone makes for the most perfect combination.

“Please don’t make me regret this,” I beg him, and he takes my face into his hands once more.

��I won’t. You’ll see,” he promises and kisses me again.

I know that Jiyong and I still have things to sort out, but I feel so resolved now, so calm, so right. I’m worried about everyone’s reaction, especially my mother’s, but I’ll deal with that when the time comes. The fact that I’m not spending Christmas with her for the first time in eighteen years in favor of Jiyong and me being together again will only make things worse, but honestly I don’t care. Well, I care, but I can’t keep going to war with her over my life choices, and it’s impossible to make her happy, so I’m done really trying.

I lean my head against Jiyong’s chest and he takes the end of my ponytail into his hands and twirls it between his fingers. I’m glad that I got all of the gifts wrapped; it was stressful enough buying them at the very last minute.

Shit. I didn’t get Jiyong a gift! Did he get me one? Probably not, but now that we’re together again . . . or sort of for the first time . . . I’m afraid that he did and will feel bad that I didn’t get him anything at all. Actually, what would I even get him?

“What’s wrong?” he asks and moves his hand to my chin, tilting my face to his.

“Nothing . . .”

“You aren’t . . .” he starts, slow and unsure. “You’re not . . . you know . . . changing your mind?”

“No . . . no. I just . . . I didn’t get you a gift,” I admit.

His face breaks into a smile, and his eyes meet mine. “You’re worried about getting me a gift for Christmas?” He laughs. “Y/N, honestly, you’ve given me everything. You worrying about a Christmas gift is ridiculous.”

I still feel guilty, but I love the confidence on his face. “You’re sure?” I ask.

“Positive.” He laughs again.

“I’ll get you something really great for your birthday,” I say, and he moves his hand back to my face. His thumb runs along my bottom lip, causing my lips to part, and I expect him to kiss me again. Instead, his lips touch down on my nose and then my forehead in a surprisingly sweet gesture.

“I don’t really do birthdays,” he tells me.

“I know . . . I don’t either.” This is one of the few things we have in common.

“ Jiyong?” Trish’s voice calls as I hear a light tap on the door. He groans and rolls his eyes as I climb off his lap.

I give him a little frown. “It wouldn’t kill you to be nicer to her—she hasn’t seen you in a year.”

“I’m not mean to her,” he says. And, honestly, I know he believes that.

“Just try to be a little nicer, for me?” I bat my eyelashes dramatically, making him smile and shake his head.

“You’re the devil,” he teases.

His mom knocks again. “ Jiyong?”

“Coming!” he says and climbs off the bed. Opening the door, I see his mom, who looks completely bored.

“Do you two want to watch a movie, perhaps?” she asks.

He turns to me and raises his brow just as I say, “Yeah, we do” and climb off the bed.

“Fantastic!” She smiles and ruffles her son’s hair.

“Let me change first,” Jiyong says and waves us out.

Trish holds her hand out to me. “Come on, Y/N, let’s make some snacks.”

As I follow his mom into the kitchen, I realize it’s probably not a good idea for me to watch Jiyong change anyway. I want to take things slow. Slow. With Jiyong , I don’t know if that’s possible. I wonder if I should tell Trish that I’ve decided to forgive him, or least try to.

“Cookies?” she asks, and I nod and open the cabinets.

“Peanut butter?” I ask her and grab the flour.

She raises her eyebrows, impressed. “You’re going to make them? I was okay with Break ’n Bake, but if you can make them homemade, so much the better!”

“I’m not the best cook, but Karen taught me an easy peanut butter cookie recipe.”

“Karen?” she asks, and my stomach drops. I didn’t mean to bring up Karen. The last thing I want to do is make Trish uncomfortable. I turn away to turn on the oven and hide my embarrassed expression.

“You’ve met her?”

I can’t read her tone, so I tread carefully. “Yeah . . . her son Taeyang is my friend . . . my best friend, really.”

Trish hands me some bowls and a spoon, asking in a purposely neutral manner, “Oh . . . what is she like?”

I level off flour in a measuring cup and add it to the large mixing bowl, all the while trying to avoid eye contact. I don’t know how to answer her. I don’t want to lie, but I don’t know how she feels about Ken or his new wife.

“You can tell me,” Trish prods.

“She’s lovely,” I admit.

She nods sharply. “I knew she would be.”

“I didn’t mean to bring her up, it just slipped out,” I apologize.

She hands me a stick of butter. “No, honey, don’t worry about it. I have no hard feelings toward that woman at all. Granted, I would love to hear that she’s a dreadful troll.” She laughs and relief washes through me. “But I’m glad Jiyong’s father is happy. I just wish Jiyong would let go of his anger toward him.”

“He has—” I begin, but stop abruptly when Jiyong enters the kitchen.

“He has what?” she asks.

I look to Jiyong , then back to Trish. It’s not my place to tell her if Jiyong hasn’t. “What are you guys talking about?” he asks.

“Your father,” she answers, and his face pales. I can tell by his expression that he didn’t intend to tell her about his budding relationship with his father.

“I didn’t know . . .” I try to tell him, but he puts his hand up to silence me.

I hate how secretive he is; this is a problem we will always have, I assume.

“It’s fine, Tess. I’ve been . . . sort of spending a little time with him.” Jiyong’s cheeks flush.

Without thinking, I walk over to stand next to him. I’d expected him to be angry with me and lie to his mother, but I’m glad that he proved me wrong.

“You have?” Trish gasps.

“Yeah . . . I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t go near him until a few months ago, I got drunk and trashed his living room . . . but then I stayed the night a few times and we went to the wedding.”

“You’ve been drinking again?” Her eyes begin to water. “ Jiyong, please tell me you haven’t been drinking again?”

“No, Mum, only a couple times. Not like before,” he promises.

Not like before? I know Jiyong used to drink way too much, but Trish’s reaction makes it seem like it was worse than I was led to believe.

“Are you mad that I’ve been seeing him?” he asks, and I put my hand on his back to try to comfort him.

“Oh, Jiyong, I would never be upset with you for having a relationship with your father. I’m just surprised, that’s all. You could have told me.” She blinks rapidly to avoid tears. “I have wanted you to let go of that anger for so long. That was a dark time in our lives, but we got through it, and it’s in the past. Your father isn’t the same man he was then, and I’m not the same woman.”

“It still doesn’t make it okay,” he says quietly.

“No, it doesn’t. But sometimes you have to choose to let things go, to move on. I really am happy that you’ve been seeing him. It’s good for you. The reason I sent you here . . . well, one of the reasons, was for you to forgive him.”

“I didn’t forgive him.”

“You should,” she says sincerely. “I have.”

Jiyong leans on his elbows on the counter and drops his head while I rub my hand up and down his back. Noticing the gesture, Trish gives me a knowing smile. Even more than before, I admire her so much. She’s so strong and loving despite the lack of emotion from her son. I wish she had someone in her life, the way Ken has Karen.

Jiyong must have been thinking the exact same thing, because he drops his head and says, “But he lives in this big-ass house and has expensive cars. He has a new wife . . . and you’re alone.”

“I don’t care about his house or his money,” she assures him. Then she smiles. “And what makes you think I’m alone?”

“What?” He raises his head.

“Don’t sound so surprised! I’m quite the catch, son.”

“You’re seeing someone? Who?”

“Mike.” She blushes and my heart warms.

Jiyong’s mouth gapes. “Mike? Your neighbor?”

“Yes, my neighbor. He’s a very nice man, Jiyong.” She laughs and looks at me knowingly. “And it’s convenient having him live just next door.”

Jiyong waves that off. “For how long? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“A few months, it’s nothing serious . . . yet. Besides, I don’t think I should be asking you for relationship advice,” she teases.

“Mike, though? He’s sort of a . . .”

“Don’t you say a bad word about him. You’re not too old for a spanking,” she scolds with a wry grin.

He raises his arms playfully. “Fine . . . fine . . .”

He’s much more relaxed than he was this morning. The tension between us has disappeared, mostly, and watching him joke with his mother makes me so happy.

Trish announces cheerfully, “Excellent! I’m going to go pick the movie—don’t come in there unless you bring cookies.” She smiles and leaves us alone in the kitchen.

I walk back over to the bowl of ingredients and finish mixing the cookie dough. When I lick a glob of it off my finger, Jiyong oh-so-helpfully notes, “I don’t think that’s very sanitary.”

I dip my finger back into the bowl, collecting the sticky dough and walk over to him. “Have some,” I tell him. I hold up my hand and try to transfer the dough to his fingers, but he opens his mouth and wraps his lips around my finger. I gasp at the contact and try to convince myself this is just his method of removing the cookie dough . . . regardless of how he’s looking at me with dark eyes. No matter how he’s flicking his warm tongue over my finger. No matter how many degrees the temperature of the kitchen has seemed to have risen. No matter how my heart is beating out of my chest and my insides are igniting.

“I think that’s enough,” I croak and pull my finger from his mouth.

He gives me a wicked smirk. “Later, then.”

THE PLATE OF COOKIES is devoured within the first ten minutes of the movie. I have to admit I’m proud of my newly acquired baking skills; Trish praises me and Jiyong eats over half of the batch, which is praise in and of itself.

“Is it bad that these cookies are my favorite thing about America so far?” Trish laughs as she takes the last bite.

“Yes, very sad,” Jiyong teases her, and I giggle.

“You may have to make these every day until I leave, y/n.”

“Sounds good to me.” I smile and lean into Jiyong. One of his arms snakes behind me at my waist, and I fold my legs up so I can move even closer to him.

Trish falls asleep toward the end of the movie, and Jiyong turns the volume down a bit so we can finish without waking her. By the end, I’m a sobbing mess and Jiyong doesn’t try to hide his humor at my despair. That was one of the saddest movies I’ve seen in my entire life; I have no idea how Trish fell asleep.

“That was terrible, amazing but terribly sad,” I sob.

“Blame my mum. I requested a comedy, yet somehow we ended up with The Green Mile. I warned you.” He moves his arm to my shoulder, pulling me closer and placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. “We can turn on Friends when we get to the room to get your mind off of him dy—”

“ Jiyong ! Don’t remind me!” I groan.

But he just chuckles before standing up off of the couch and pulling me by the arm to join him. When we get to the room, Jiyong switches on the lamp and then the television.

When he goes over and locks the door, then turns to me with those bright brown eyes and evil dimples, my insides quiver.

[shadyzap]

Star Struck Fool

Shance AU

Part 3

Keith pushed Shiro off him with a gasp, eyes wide in disbelief and shock. With a similar expression, Shiro gapes at Keith as he tries to put together words. “I-I’m- “ Keith shakes his head and looks down, mostly in melancholy. He’s tried so many times to tell Shiro that he doesn’t feel the same way he does. Of course, Shiro is a great guy but Keith thought of him as a brother and nothing else. Guilt pulled at Keith’s heart, he doesn’t want to hurt Shiro, but this is the only way to get it through him that he doesn’t share his feelings. “I’m sorry Shiro, I don’t- I don’t feel that way.” Keith said with a sad voice. Shiro sighed and nodded. “Yeah… yeah I know. I just-“he scrunched his eyebrows, “I just wanted to see for myself.” There was a moment of awkwardness but soon dispersed but the ring of the tardy bell. The bell made Keith jump a little, “Ah! I-I have to get to class, it's my third tardy… I can't get another” He really needed to go but he wanted to make sure that Shiro was ok. Looking up at Shiro with worried eyes, Shiro smiled and nodded to the direction of his classroom. As Lance entered class he wasn't really aware of his surroundings.he couldn't hear, couldn't see, couldn't breath all because of what he saw. He felt as if he was drugged. Not by drugs but by heart ache. He got to his seat not even greeting Hunk as he sat down, which wasn't his fault. He couldn’t speak. He knows that if he did speak he’d break down. He doesn’t want that. So he sat there the entire class, eyes red and wide staring at nothing, the image in his head of Shiro and Keith kissing would not escape his mind. All he could think was,

“Shiro doesn’t need me, he’s got Keith!” “He doesn’t need me.” “Who needs me?” Before Lance knew it it was the end of class, but he can’t move. His legs, paralyzed by overwhelm and nausea. Lances vision began to fade but, thankfully, Hunk tapped him on the shoulder. Startled he jumped back a little making his seat scoot. He needed to leave. Now. Lance grabbed his bag and rushed to the roof, not giving a care in the world of who he's bumping into. He just needed to get out of this place. The roof is where he could go and no one would find him. Mainly because it was ill advised to go to the roof due to all of the electrical junk up there. But he liked it up here. It was a place where he was untouchable, a place where only the sound of engines humming all around you blurred out the noise of all the Garrison. It was his go-to place to get away from the brutality of the Garrison. It was peaceful. Perfect for crying your eyes out. Lance got to the roof and slid down against the door that separated him from the Garrison, and wept. Powerful sobs escaped his throat and fat tears streamed down his face. Gods he felt weak. Never in his life had he cried this much. He felt stupid and worthless. Lance knows that Shiro has and will always have feelings for Keith and it would've been easier for him if Shiro told Lance flat out that he doesn't feel the same way Lance does. But Shiro never did he'd just accept, well more like tolerate, Lance which he was fine with but, there were days that Shiro would give into Lances attempts to impress Shiro. Shiro, without knowing it, would lead him on, making Lance think that he has a chance with Shiro. He was wrong, he thought. “I've never had a chance with him.” He whispered, hugging his knees tighter to his body. Lance stayed at the roof ‘till it was night and all the stars could be seen, even parts of the Milky Way. He stared at the sky counting each speck of light he could see whilst thinking about his family. Lance loves his family. When he first got to the Garrison it was hard for him to say goodbye, not forever but definitely for some time. He wished that the Garrison would be a little more lenient on family visitation but of course they won't. The main person Lance misses the most is his sister. She was like his partner in crime. Whenever Lance would do something he knew would get him in trouble, she'd take the blame for him, saving him from la chancla. Lance got shivers down his spine when he thought about la chancla and his mother's insane accuracy. A smile graced upon his lips thinking back to his kid days with his sister and their troublesome ways. Gods he missed them. Lances phone rang causing him to curse and fumble for the phone. Lance looked at the caller ID.

It was Shiro. It didn't exactly say Shiro because Lance had Shiro under Buff Daddy. What? Tease him all you want but no one can deny the meat on that boy. The thought brought a small smile to his lips. He debated about answering it but when he finally came to him decision it was too late to pick up. He sighed in defeat and relief because he wanted to hear Shiro but he also didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Lance knows that he has people that would listen to him and all but at this very moment he feels so alone, exposed and heart broken. He's feeling every emotion at once. Anger, because he's angry at himself for being such a wuss over some guy. Jealously, because he wanted to be in Keith's position but knew he'd never be able to. Self-consciousness because he doesn't feel like he's good enough for anybody. And finally, hurt. He feels hurt. Like what he just saw had punched him in the gut, leaving a gaping hole in his body. He tried to cover this hole by folding his knees into himself. Trying to get as small as he can. He just wished he was a strong person. His phone rang again and of course it was Shiro. Lance ha missed two classes and a lab so Shiro was worried. Lance, once again let it go to voicemail not even feeling guilty this time. He let out a choked sob and rested his head on his knees. But the all of a sudden he heard snoring. “What the hell?” He thought, popping his head up to try and see where it was coming from. He got up to search where it came from and to his avail he found the source. Some guy was sleeping on the roof with a full air mattress under him. Lance had to admit he was kinda handsome. Brown thick hair that kinda looked like those anime style hairs. Pale skin that caught the moon light just right, and wearing a lieutenants uniform. Just like Shiro's. He was utterly confused, he thought he was the only one that came up here. He was wrong.

Lance tapped his shoulder to wake him up but he didn't. “Man this dude sleeps like a rock.” Lance thought, so he pushed his shoulder and the dude finally woke up. “Hmm?” He hummed as turned towards Lance. Then the guys eyes shot wide so fast it scared Lance a little. Wow green eyes! “Shit! What time is it?!” Lance checked his watch. “Uh, nine?” He said. “Oh fuck me!” The guy fell back against his mattress. “At least take me on a date first.” Lance remarked. He couldn't help it, it just came out! The guy chuckled and turned towards Lance smiling at him. Lance was a little taken back because man this guys was gorgeous. “You're funny.” Lance blushed, shying away while playing with one of his curls. “I try.” He said. “Why are you up here might I ask?” “I come up here to sleep mostly but I like it up here it's nice and soothing… you?” He questioned Lance, sitting up once again. “Ah, I like to be alone sometimes. Helps me think.” He sighed not giving the guy the whole truth to reason he's up here. “Hmm. Well it's nice to meet you! I'm Jackson. Jackson McCall. But you can call me Jay if you want.” Lance nodded smiling back at him. “Lance McClain!” He stuck out his hand so they could shake. Jay took his hand but instead of shaking it like normal he brought Lance's hand up to his face and kissed the back of his hand. Blushing bright red Lance gasped and turned his head to the side. Jay had a huge smirk on his face while keeping his eyes on Lance. He chuckled and released Lance's hand. “Well you're… old fashioned?” Lance questioned. It really sure what to call his gesture. “I guess you can call me that but I only kiss the hand of those with appalling beauty.” Gods this man is smooth. “Oh gosh.” Lance hid his face. Jay chuckled as he released Lance's hand. “Shit its cold up here. I forgot to bring my blanket.” Jay pouted. “Well it is quite late, I think we should head inside… if you want.” Lance saw him nod so he helped him to his feet. And holy hell he is tall. Probably as tall as Shiro. Gods Lance was obsessed everything and everyone reminds him of Shiro. “Hmmm..” Jay hummed looking suspiciously at Lance. What? “What?” Lance asked. It came out a little rude but, hey! Staring is rude too. “Nothing.” He shrugged and walked towards the door to exit the roof as if he wasn't just looking at Lance like he'd just stole his cookie. “Just looks like you've been crying is all.” “I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Lance choked, stumbling after Jay. But he just kept on walking past the door, softly laughing. Lance caught up to him and walked by his side. “Then why are your eyes all puffy and red?” Good question.

---

Ok sorry for posting this super late. College, on top of depression is a big sore that takes tim to get rid of.

But yay! New character!

He's and OC I needed to make for the story but don't worry nothing really happens between them.

And once again gd Shiro wyd?

Tell me what yer think

[kandadiff]

Isla Paradiso

-- After pretty much everyone arrives in the house... tension is high --

~ Kitty ~

Robin wasn’t a very well known man unless you paid attention to foreign films ( he was in plenty of European movies), were a fan of grunge rock (The Band he was in was fairly popular but he wasn’t the lead singer - instead he was the guitarist) or knew his brothers coming from a family of socialites. These reasons were why most of the house members didn’t really know who he was save for the thirsty ones who saw his instagram or those who knew he had a relationship with Kitty when she was younger before Harry. When she was growing up they were friends, there families often vacationing together and love blossomed between them, fizzling out to soon when career takeoffs came about and she ballooned into a huge star. 

Robin however still had much more then lingering feelings for the white haired singer. He was in love with her and despite the years trying to get over her, he could never fully let go of her. They still spoke constantly, he showed up to her shows, wrote songs with her, credited her on being his best friend and wrote several songs dedicated to her (although he never out right told her that), thats why he was outside in the summer heat sword fighting with sticks like they used to do when they were children. 

“Got you!” She shouted victoriously as Robin came back from his daydream feeling the stick poke into his side. He dropped to his knees clutching his side dramatically. 

“Lady Kara, you fiend.” He declares loudly causing her to giggle and his smile to break through the dramatics. “You have defeated me” he falls on his back, looking up at her, she looked just like an angel. Her hair perfectly framed her face as the bright sun shown like a halo around her head. “You may have my kingdom!”

“I won fair and square sir robin” she mimicked his British accent and pretended to plant her sword stick into the ground “I claim this land for the kingdom of Morrose!”

“I will get my kingdom back” he gasped dramatically before closing his eyes and playing dead. He heard her giggle, the sound making him smile before opening his eyes surprised to see her so close to his face. “Always a pleasure fighting with you.”

“Pleasures all mine.” she grabbed his hand and went to pull him up when another name called out to her. Robin got to his feet wiping his dirtied hands on his pants and fixing the flower crown in Kittys hair while she watched who approached her. He looked at Harry quizzically hearing kitty sigh slightly. 

“Want me to stay?” He asked defensively already moving to be in front of her but she shook her head. 

“No its okay.” She said as Harry approached eyeing Robin. Harry never truly liked robin and really only tolerated him for the fact that he was close with Kitty. But anyone with eyes could see how much robin liked her and he had no idea how Evan put up with him.. maybe it was for the same reason he did. Kitty was innocent and it seemed like ruining her relationship with Robin would be a bad idea however now it didn’t seem so bad. 

“Hey kit, can we talk?” Harry asked taking his eyes off Robin and looking down at the shorter girl. “we can sit by the water.” Kitty shifted looking at the bench not to far from them and politely nodded. Robin watched them walk away making sure to stay close just incase he had to bash the face of Harry in. Something he wanted to do ever since the boy broke her heart two years ago and was trying to pull her in only to push her back away. 

“Kitty can I tell you how beautiful you look? even in simple clothes you look like a million dollars.”

“I’d rather you didn’t” She said quietly not looking at him but rather at the water, the waves crashing in rhythm. 

“Well you do” he said and they sat in silence. He went to put his hand close to hers so she placed both of her hands in a neat clasp on her legs, Robin clutching the stick he was using as a sword moments ago and was ready to use it as a bat. Harrys name practically carved into it. “I just wanted to say-”

“Before you say what you want to say.” she said finally looking at him, her blue eyes meeting his green ones. “I want to tell you something. I support you Harry, I buy all your music, I vote for you when I can and I still respect you as an artist however, I don’t want you to continue to pursue me anymore. Isn’t it getting tiring?” he looked at her a bit stunned but couldn’t find the words to say anything. “I love Evan, I loved you but you cheated on me and while I was your friend I don’t even really want to be that anymore. I won’t be rude to you and I don’t want to ruin your time in this house but you need to understand my stance is unchanging.”

“You said that before.”

“And I was naive and missed you.” She said shaking her head and looking back at Robin who took it as a sign to move over to her still clutching the stick. She looked back at Harry who's expression was cold as he looked at Robin no longer registering what kitty was saying only focusing on Robin who no doubt told her to say this. Told her not to trust him, told her to forget about him. She loved him once, love doesn’t just go away. 

“Go back inside.” Robin said when she stood up to go leave. She nodded heading back to the house and Robin glared at Harry. Harry shook a bit under the mans gaze but tried not to show it. “Stay away from her.” Harry stood up to get on his level and speak to him with the same anger in his voice but Robin pushed him back on the bench pressing the stick to his throat and pushing. Harry trying to push back but Robin was stronger then he looked. Robin pressed himself deeper onto Harry pushing the stick further into his windpipe. “You know how easy it is to crush vocal cords? Only takes about three pounds of pressure- then what would you do for a career?” Harry began to choke and reach out scratching at Robins face but Robin didn’t budge a bit. “I could end everything for you - you’ll just be another boy band member forgotten” he pressed it deeper and Harrys lips began turning a sickly blueish hue. Suddenly he let go, dropping the wood to the ground and standing straight up as though he wasn’t just threatening his life. Harry gasped for breath, desperately sucking air until his sore throat. “Remember that the next time you try and do anything like that again.”

---- Jennie ----

Jennie sat in relative silence while Jiyong took out his frustrations around her. He was yelling in Korean, throwing his stuff around the room and cursing. So much cursing. She was grateful that mostly everyone was out for his arrival at the house because even she was having a hard time holding it together. She honestly thought she had done the right thing. Wasn’t stepping up to defend your relationship the right thing to do? You and CL had spoke false statements about it and she had settled it ... she didn’t mean to do it violently but thats how it had turned out, so why was he yelling that it was the wrong thing to do?

“🍥You made a fool out of us!” He shouted again looking at her with anger embedded in his eyes. His face flushed red and his hands in fists. He pounded on the table “🍥do you understand I want us to be private! I don’t want people shouting at us bringing us hate! and you made a fool out of yourself and me!”

Jennie looked down at the table feeling much like a little girl being scolded by her father rather than a woman with her significant other. “I didn’t mean to-”

“🍥But you did!” He went on shouting for a few more minutes until once again bringing up CL “🍥and my best friend too Jennie! A senior to you-”

“🍥They hit me too!” Jennie attempted to defend herself getting a little angry with how he wasn’t seeing anything wrong with the other sides actions other then they’re overreacting but they laid hands on her too. why was she getting all the blame? “🍥I defended us, yeah I could have done it better but-”

“Jennie-”

“🍥I did wrong yes but so did they! and you are here yelling at me for it when you should be yelling at them too! Why aren’t you?!”

“🍥I should yell at them on the phone then? Start another scene or would you like to do that since you are so much better at causing problems than me?!”

Jennie shook her head and stood up looking at him, all the words you yelled at her coming back into her mind. ‘GD is only with you because your the next big thing and he's fading!’ / ‘think about how your fans would drop if they knew you were dating him! the rumor keeps him tied to you without the commitment! your an idiot being used!’ / ‘He only wanted to go public with me!’ 

“Where are you going?” he asked running his hands through his dark hair, something he did when he was stressed. Jennie hadn’t even realized she was walking towards the door until he called her away from her troubling thoughts. 

“Jiyong” her voice was weak and quivering and she hated that she sounded so small. “If you had to chose right now between me and her regardless of anything and everything, would you chose me?”

“Jen-”

“Answer me!” her voice coming out louder then she thought she could muster but it still shivered and broke with the signs of heartbreak. “Who would you chose?!”

“Don’t make me do this Jen.” he said his eyes never leaving hers and she felt tears sting her eyes when she looked into them. She didn’t see love or sorrow, she saw shame and pity. She shook her head and he went to her. “I care about you-” his voice was softer confusing her wondering if he truly meant it or was he just saying that.

“No” she said needing to think this out away from him when tears weren’t escaping her eyes and when he was away from her. “No I need to leave.”

“Stay Jennie im sorry for loosing my temper-”

“No” she shook her head opening the door and walking into the hallway rushing towards the stairs. she ignored him calling after her and started running until she couldn’t hear him anymore. She ran outside and away from the house, hot tears streaming down her face as sobs left her throat. She ran and ran and ran until her legs hurt and she was in the small town about a mile from the beach house. Grateful the streets were pretty sparse on the cloudy day she felt herself collapse next to a building, feeling her body rock with sobs.

Her mind wandered to her trainee days where g was her friend much like a brother to her, he helped her be better in Papa YG’s eyes. He gave her confidence and the arrogance that came with knowing someone like him. She thought of the times when you were in BlackPink and how he was obviously attached to you and how insecure she was - not because she liked him - but because she felt small and weak again. That weird New Zeland foreigner that no one wanted to hang out with. She remembered gathering Jisoo and Lisa against you to make you leave the group. She knows GD knew she had something to do with it and he stopped chatting with her or even acknowledging her for a while. She slipped back in hating herself for feeling like such a whiny brat but he helped her validation. she was still insecure. Maybe thats why she hooked onto Suga - no she knows thats why she did. She felt white hot shame rush into her as she cried more. Gd was using her wasn’t he? no man just goes from hating a girl to wanting to be with her at a random time. Just when she was about to apologize to you, he came back in her life with open arms and foolishly she ran back into them thinking he missed her as a teacher misses a student but flowers and secret meetings were part of it and it turned romantic. She was a fool wasn’t she? a stupid girl with stupid dreams that never learns. She buried her face in her hands crying almost violently until she heard someone calling her name and cursed herself for not staying more out of sight? How would she explain this to a fan?

“Jennie?” she heard a pair of footsteps approach and tried her best to rub her tears away but her face was red and she knew her eyes looked swollen. She faced away from the stranger and attempted to wave him away as though he was mistaking her for another person. “Jen, I know its you.” She knew the voice after that, and looked up at Mino, who's smile faded when he saw her face. “Whats wrong?” at that she began crying again sliding down the graffitied wall and crying into her hands. 

He knelt down poking her knees while he tried to get her to talk, he realized he was only going to get yes or no questions from her given how hard she was sobbing so he placed his jacket around her and asked away “Did someone hurt you?” she nodded “Are you hurt? did they hit you? rob you?” she shook her head “are you here alone?” she nodded “did you walk here?” a nod “did someone fight with you at the house again?” she shook her head and his wrinkled his forehead confused. “Do you want to go back home?” she shrugged sobbing harder. “Okay” he thought for a moment before lifting her chin up and wiping her tears away “lets get you cleaned up and maybe some ICEE’S? that always makes me feel better.” She said nothing but allowed him to grab her gently and hook an arm around her waist to steady her as he walked with her to Ralphs ignoring the natives glancing occasionally at her. “She had a bad day.”Mino said annoyed they were even in her business. He paid for her favorite flavor ‘Guava’ and placed it in front of her while taking small nibbles of his cherry. “Eat Jen, it will make you feel better.” she attempted to take the spoon and stuck a small scoop in her mouth thanking him quietly. at least she stopped crying. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked scooting closer so they wouldn’t have to be so loud but she shook her head and he nodded sitting next to her while she quietly and sadly ate her ice cream feeling comforted by him when he took her hand in his. “Its going to be okay Jennie, I promise.”

---