#homesick kid who refuses to admit he's homesick because he really does like and want to travel rip

[flockrest]

totk meme prompts / accepting / @gloryseized ( Link )

<< ❝ you look distracted. what’s wrong? ❞ >>

     Mr. Link's food is unfairly delicious.

     The fish is soft and juicy. The broth: rich and fragrant with spice. Even the floating bits of greens and vegetables are somehow too good to pass up; this is probably the best creamy seafood soup Kido's ever had in his entire life.

     He can't bring himself to go for a fourth beakful.

     "Nothing," Kido says, too many moments later 'cause he's gotta force his voice out around whatever's clumped up at the base of his throat. He hates the way it wavers, dipping like something is wrong when it isn't. It isn't. Everything's great, everything's fine — he tries bolstering his weakened answer with, "this is really good," and even, after several seconds, lifts his bowl up to his beak to prove it.

     The taste hasn't changed. It's not like Kido wants it to — no person in their right mind would — and yet, disappointment twists in his gut. A strange ache grips his heart. Something dangerously close to yearning prickles beneath his feathers and it's all like some weird aftertaste, unwelcome in the face of this perfect meal.

     But that's the thing, isn't it? Mr. Link's cooking is— perfect. Not like Genli's, who's still learning and likes leaving things in the pot for juuust too long. Not like Auntie Misa's, who's mastered timing but can be a little forgetful when it comes to flavour. Not like Uncle Nekk's, who apparently prefers his fish too dry, or Uncle Verla's, or Auntie Saki's, or anybody's back at home.

     Kido doesn't want to admit it after so many winters of wishing for this exact kind of night, eating beneath constellations he's more often seen mapped out by wings than by starlight, embraced in completely unfamiliar Windlines — but— but.

     He doesn't take another sip.

[sunnyoldbear]

Luca Headcanons Part 2

DoesLast one blew up and I was gonna wait to make another before making this one but then my Italian fish obsessed brain couldn’t stop thinking and I literally couldn’t stop myself so let’s go, part 2!

Luca:

Has nightmares of what would happen if things went differently: If he was sent to The Deep, if he and Alberto were outed as sea-monsters before the race, if Ercole, Cicco, and Guido didn’t miss Alberto when throwing the harpoons at the beach, if Alberto didn’t come with the umbrella during the race and he was outed in front of the town and hit with Ercole’s harpoon, etc. He always wakes up terrified. 

Apologizes to inanimate objects if he bumps into them or drops them.

Names everything he comes in contact with. Random animals such as birds, insects (even though he’s terrified), erasers he uses often, etc. They’re always random, silly names, but he loves them. 

Is a slow reader because of how he fantasizes himself in the books and daydreams, then is snapped back to reality.

Keeps a dream journal!

Loves making stories about the stars and constellations. He loves the original stories, but he loves to make up his own.

Honestly I just get the vibe that he’s scared of birds after the encounter with the seagull.

His favorite color is purple followed by green!

Giulia’s mom buys him his own bike and he loses his mind, loving it so much

He’s a bit awkward with making friends at school, sticking to Giulia’s side most of the time

He doesn’t really care for music

He can fall asleep anywhere, honestly. He once fell asleep leaning against the doorway and then crashed onto the floor

Alberto loves to doodle on his arms and hands and Luca doesn’t really care to wash them off so they just kinda chill there. 

He’s very easy to prank and scare

Oh you should see him around the holidays! He’s so excited! His eyes sparkle and shine, he absolutely loves the decorations!

He’s not competitive, actually. He just wanted the prize money to get the Vespa, but he doesn’t really care about winning. He just... Isn’t competitive

He is very protective over his friends. Do what you want to him, but lay a hand on someone he loves and he will tear you a new one. We see him in the movie just frown when Ercole makes fun of him, but when Ercole shoved Alberto, all bets were off.

Charts the stars

He doesn’t have one love language, he has all of them, but probably Physical Touch and Quality Time more than anything, or Acts of Service.

Drinks expresso more often than he probably should, but just to get through his schoolwork

Misses his goatfish more than he wants to admit, especially little Giuseppe

Allergies beat him up during the spring

Slowly gets used to cats with Machiavelli’s kittens, but he’s still scared of the chunky boy

A teacher at school made the mistake of introducing him to Shakespeare. He spent hours sobbing over a good chunk of the plays.

Because he liked Shakespeare, Giulia’s mom got him some poetry books. He was not a fan of Edgar Allan Poe or Agatha Christie or Mary Shelley, all the horror/murder type stuff. He loved Emily Dickinson though!

Is as terrified of losing Alberto as Alberto is terrified of losing him

While he isn’t as touchy with Giulia as he is with Alberto, he does get more touchy with her

Reads tons of books about cats, dogs, and turtles to give Machiavelli, Nerone, and Caligola the care they need

Hears about human farms and loses his mind, rapidly asking questions about how they work and if they’re similar to his own

Giulia tries to convince him that fairytales are real. He has nightmares about them for a few nights until Massimo has to tell him that fairytales are made up and her mom changes them slightly to be more... Non-scary. She starts telling them to him to bed just because she misses doing so, and then he can’t fall asleep without someone telling him a story.

Doesn’t do the handshake with anyone that isn’t Alberto or Giulia.

Giulia’s mom calls him “fishy” or “guppy” and he wants to hate it but he can’t

Hates it when people call him cute or baby him, but his family + Alberto + Marcovaldos still do it

Once heard some French Tourists and stared at Giulia and went “why is their Italian so weird sounding” and she lost her shit laughing

Doesn’t swear, refuses to swear

Tries to use Vespa stamps if they’re available

Once he learns what “Piacere, gioralamo trombetta” means, he sends a letter to Alberto which is just him freaking out and laughing while making fun of it. They don’t stop saying it. In fact, they probably say it more.

He has a map in his room with pushpins of where he’s been. Beside it are a bunch of sticky notes of where he wants to go with Alberto with reasons on why he wants to go.

Has a little bit more courage, but not too much

He’s often teased for calling others “sir” or “ma’am” and so he feels really shy about it but doesn’t stop

Refuses to call Massimo and Giulia’s mom by their names, it just feels too awkward for him

Makes friendship bracelets for the trio as well as separate ones for him and Alberto, then him and Giulia.

While he loves gelato, he doesn’t like it as much as Alberto

I feel like he’d dot the i’s in Giulia’s name with hearts but no one else’s

People at school think he has a crush on her but he doesn’t

He and Alberto still say they sleep under the anchovies. No matter how often he researches stars, he’ll always call them anchovies around him.

Sticks out his tongue when focused

Doesn’t like aquariums, he stares at those fish and he just feels trapped

Loves to dance in the rain

Does that little feet tappy dance thing when he’s excited or shakes his hands

Honestly half of his vocabulary is stern shouts of “Alberto!” “Giulia!” or “silenzio Bruno, silenzio Bruno! Silenzio Bruno!”

Speaking of, he can’t just say “Silenzio Bruno” once, it’s always him saying it more than once, especially when he’s really scared

He doesn’t have loud, aggressive sneezes, but he does have sneeze fits. Once he sneezed so many times that with every one his face got closer to his desk until it just went BAM and he has a massive bruise on his forehead for days. 

Sometimes just goes into the water and swims to relax. If he’s feeling homesick, he’ll do some daring trick and then instinctively turn to smile at Alberto only to realize he isn’t there

His dad still keeps crabs but lets Luca name them. Luca chooses to name them all after space things. Mainly moons, but sometimes planets or galaxies

Secretly feels really guilty about Alberto selling their Vespa

After almost being sent to The Deep, he is terrified of the dark and can’t sleep without a light on, no matter how dim it is

Alberto:

Matching pajamas with both Massimo and Giulia! (Refuses to match with her, Massimo yelled at them)

Tries to see what triggers his transformation. Does watermelon? Does juice? Is it any liquid? He’ll find out!

Calls Giulia “Spewlia” just to piss her off

Those two are always arguing. Yes, he often starts it

Lots of tattoos and ear piercings!

Will into Giulia’s room, stare her dead in the eyes, call her a bitch, and run out while leaving the door open. She’ll scream at him and probably throw something. 

Tends to shorten people’s names. He calls Luca “Lu,” “Lulu,” and even “Luke.” Luca does not like any of these names.

Still builds his Vespas! They’re not as fun without Luca, though

Takes Giulia with him sometimes too and purposely crashes into the sea or something just to see what she does. 

Gains quite a bit of muscle 

Is the one who takes down all the sea monster things with Massimo. He and Lorenzo carry Smuca to the fountain

Idk I feel like he has loud sneezes

I also feel like he makes that weird cough face like that one cat idk I just know I’m right

He doesn’t just sing... He scream sings

Doesn’t know how to dance but if there is music he will dance

Loves dancing in the rain too!

Sometimes he’ll just walk into Giulia’s room and gossip with her. They’ll make a blanket fort and grab some snacks and cats and just... Spend the night talking and catching up

She teaches him how to braid hair and now he just loves doing her hair

Bites his lip quite a bit. That’s canon but like, still worth mentioning

Learns how to ride a bike so he doesn’t get killed or something

Keeps a journal on things Luca and Giulia are interested in so he can learn about them. He writes down bullet points on what he remembers from conversations, but it’s honestly not much

He doesn’t have big dreams other than traveling the world with Luca. He knows Giulia wants to be a marine biologist and Luca wants to travel the world + is still figuring things out. He has short term goals other than that and changes the topic about it.

A popular headcanon is that Alberto takes care of the goatfish when Luca’s at school and I think that would happen!

He’s shockingly good with kids! When not working, he loves playing soccer with them by the fountain

He almost named Machiavelli’s mate “Frog” because he can’t name things

Half the time when Giulia and/or Luca talk about school, he goes “I don’t what that means, but I’m choosing to define it as ____” and won’t let them prove him wrong

Technically canon but he will bite. Chomp chomp.

When he meets Giulia’s mom, they love to paint together

He does make some friends in Portorosso, but none are as close to him as his sister and best friend!

This man is the most dramatic person good lord

Love language is definitely physical touch!

Still screams “Take me, gravity!” pretty often

Can’t do work alone without music. He doesn’t really like opera but he can’t stand silence, he just can’t

Sometimes he thinks of Luca’s betrayal and is really angry, but knows he’d probably do the same if the roles were reversed. It was about self preservation and the risk of living. He still gets upset about it sometimes, but completely forgives him and understands

Is always torn between giving Giulia genuine facts about sea creatures and giving her such absurd but lowkey believable lies. He wants her to succeed so badly but also wants to screw her over

If you give him anything, he will play with it. String? A toy. A pen? A toy. A literal rock you found on the side of the road? A gorgeous toy, thank you!

Never just goes into the water, he will always be dramatic and dive in or jump

Sometimes when not on duty, he just blows his lifeguard whistle because he thinks it’s cool

He loves yoyos!

Will noogie Giulia.

Sometimes gets scared that Massimo will abandon him, but it seems like Massimo always knows

Città Vuota is his favorite song!

Doodles all over everything, especially Giulia and Luca’s arms and legs. They range from little stars to tic tac toe games to fish to anything that comes to mind

Giulia:

Is very much into photography! Luca always does hearts with his hands/fingers while Alberto does stupid poses or flips her off... or both.

Hums and sings a lot! 

Also loves to dance and is the best of the trio! Loves to twirl and vibe even if there’s no music! It’s just her personality

She doesn’t just hug, she jumps into their arms and holds them close

Sometimes just to annoy Alberto she’ll hug him and press kisses to his head and cheeks. Siblings gonna be annoying.

Always has so much energy but really struggles with sitting still for homework after such long hours in school that her grades aren’t all that good except for Astronomy!

The most competitive of the trio

Bites her lip when she’s nervous

Started wearing her hat to match her dad when she was little and now she doesn’t like being without it

Has probably fallen asleep in class

Loves watermelon and gelato

While Ciccio and Guido apologize for their actions, she doesn’t forgive them and doesn’t want to. She has every right to

Gets really into singing when she’s singing along to songs

Doesn’t like makeup for herself but will hold the boys captive to do their makeup

Loves puns! Will make sea puns to piss off Alberto and Luca, but Luca loves them so it half-works

Loves copying Alberto’s lipbite

Machiavelli her beloved <3 

Loves her fam so much! She’s got pictures of them everywhere and is constantly buying them gifts

Speaking of! Her love language is giving gifts! 

She’s actually pretty good at making friends since she can read people so well. It’s just that Portorosso doesn’t have any.... Great kids to befriend and Genova just has too many that she sticks to a small group which eventually fades, as groups do

She isn’t the most emotional but she also isn’t the least emotional. She doesn’t cry often but she does get sad and shows it

I don’t know why I feel this way but I definitely think she’s scared of the doctor

She used to be scared of thunderstorms until meeting her boys and the race happened. Now she associates rain and storms with that win

Summer is her favorite season

She knows everyone in Portorosso by name and knows most of their birthdays by heart

Speaking of, she always celebrates Alberto’s birthday like her like her life depends on it

Now loves racing on her bike even more cause of the race

Calls Alberto “Berto” and is the only one allowed to do say

A very light sleeper

---

More on the way probably they’re all I think about

[halfway-happyyy]

I would love something a little angsty with Alex getting annoyed because the reader won't open up to him fully and let him take care of her but he doesn't realise it's because she's independent (yay girl power) and is kind of scared of depending on him incase she loses him and ends up being alone again but it ends all fluffy and cute! 🥺

btw I really love your writing , it always makes me so happy!! 🥰

Thank you for the support my friend! Here ya go, hope you like it 💜

“Your mother did not raise you with a wolf in your chest so you could howl over losing a man.”

As the March sun filtered in through the parted drapes of the penthouse window, you marvelled at the miniscule dust particles dancing in the bright strip of light, how they churned and drifted on in no particular direction. Your lover had yet to wake up and save for the cacophony of the unfamiliar city waking up around you, the only other noise in your room was of his soft snores. You couldn't be sure what time it was; the sunlight pouring in offered little indication. A lingering headache from the night before- a by-product of the alcohol consumed, throbbed incessantly at your temples and you closed your eyes and took a deep breath to centre yourself. When it was quiet like this- when you couldn't spot his impossibly weather-worn suitcase, or the tattered burgundy passport -tangible evidence of the life of a man who greeted aloneness like an old friend- you could almost picture the future you both fantasized so often about. Alexander shifted next to you then, the white cotton sheet falling to rest below his toned abdomen. Turning onto your side, you traced the smattering of freckles adorning the edge of his collarbone like constellations in the sky. Though he was off on a four-month long shoot the next morning, it was not lost on you how wonderful it was to know somebody so intimately, and how extraordinary that of all the people in the world, you got to dream next to him most evenings.

“You’re a million miles away,”

His voice bore the brunt of recent sleep and made you homesick for something you couldn’t put a finger on. “I’m right here sunshine,” You raised the palm of your hand to his cheek, caressed the warm, stubbled skin there, and watched a sleepy grin bloom on his face. “See?” You smiled at him.

“I see you,” He whispered. You regarded each other for a while, neither of you rushing to fill the silence until he traced a fingertip along the line of your jaw. “What were you thinking of just then?”

“I was thinking of how I'll never willingly drink vodka again, as long as I live.”

Nuzzling in to the warm hollow of your neck, his muffled chuckle sent a pleasant shiver through your body. He pressed a kiss to you and asked, “What were you really thinking of, though?”

You sighed softly. “I was thinking of how nice it would be to live in this moment for the rest of my days,” swallowing hard, you continued. “But that's woefully unrealistic so I will be content with however long this lasts.”

Alexander pulled away to gaze at you, his expression dubious. “Why is it unrealistic to think we could have many moments like this one?”

An almost imperceptible shift had occurred in your relationship recently that had become increasingly difficult to ignore. Where he had always been content to let everything in his life take a backseat to his career, he had started actively talking about a life in Sweden that didn't necessarily involve film. You indulged him every single time, of course. Usually, these conversations took place late into the evening, with you both nose-to-nose between the sheets. “Let’s go to Sweden,” He’d whisper. And you’d nod your head and say, “Okay Alex. Take me there…” And you would fall asleep to his voice; to the dreamy lull of his accent as he spoke of the life he knew as a boy, and of the life he wanted with you one day.

“We just live different lives right now, Alex.”

He blanched. “What on earth does that mean?”

You swallowed hard. “It means that when I can swing it with my job- I take two weeks off to visit you in a random city. I pay the plane fare-

“Don’t do that.” He murmured, lowly. “I offered to pay for your trip here, kid. Multiple times. You refused me every single time, so please don’t sit there and tell me that I don’t at least try.”

“How do you think that makes me feel, though? That what- the man that I’m currently seeing makes exponentially more money than I do, and so he should then feel obligated to pay for my every want and need? I’ve done alright for myself my entire life, Alex.”

I’ve done alright without anyone.

“I know you have.”

“I think,” You sighed softly. “That what we have going for us right now works well.”

A humorless laugh exited his mouth in the form of a puff of air and he uttered something under his breath in Swedish. “Of course, it works. It’s no strings attached in the most basic way. We get what we want from one another, and then we head off in different directions until we feel the itch again. It works, but it’s not enough.”

It’s not enough.

Those words rattled around in your brain, and when you repeated them, they tasted bitter on your tongue. “It was enough when we met. It was enough when birthdays and family gatherings were missed. It was enough until three or four months ago, when you suddenly decided that you wanted more. How did that come about, Alex?”

He shifted onto his back; his blue gaze trained on the ceiling above him. “I am so fucking sick of missing out on those things though,” Tossing his hands into the air in frustration, he took a deep breath. “It’s just time, kid. I can feel it in my bones. I want things with you that I’ve never wanted with anyone else before. I want a life with you- more than two or three weeks at a stretch. I want months and years and possibly even decades with you,” He cleared his throat and continued. “But- and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed it before, that I know that something about it scares you. I can feel how tense you become at the slightest mention of a life together and you don’t have to tell me why, I don’t know that I’m owed that, but I certainly do wonder.”

You turned onto your back and clasped your hands over your stomach, the prickle of looming tears behind your eyes suddenly made you angry. “Like a moth to a flame, I am intrinsically drawn to people who make habits out of leaving when they’ve gotten what they wanted and I’ve made the mistake of making homes out of people before, Alex.” You shook your head, could feel the lump rising steadily in the hollow of your throat. “And every single time it happens, I’m left homesick and alone in the end. And I’ve got no one to blame for it but myself. So please forgive me if I’m just not there yet.”

His expression was unreadable as he turned back onto his side to view you fully. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” He murmured. “I know how much it hurts to have your heart broken; I’ve been down that road more times than I’d like to admit, and I know how difficult it is to pick yourself back up from it. So, I can appreciate how well you guard yourself. But I’m laying it all out on the line for you, kid.” He reached for your hand and brought the back of it to his lips. “And if this is something you think that you might genuinely want- take your time. However much of it you may need. I know the days ahead may not be easy, but please know that you aren’t alone. I’m not going anywhere.”

And a weight that you had forgotten was even there dissipated from your chest in that moment. Though trepidation lingered, it was met with a faint light at the end of the tunnel. Alexander- your sunshine boy. You shifted back onto your side so that you were facing him, your foreheads nearly touching. You inhaled deeply and offered him a small, knowing smile. “Alex?”

“Mhm?”

“Take me to Sweden.”

His azure eyes lit up at the mere mention of home. “Right now?”

You nodded, contentedly. “Right this very second.”

He pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead and began.  

“There’s something wonderful about the idea of a home on the water…”

[tardis-stowaway]

Ten years after the Not-pocalypse, Adam Young, age 21 and recently graduated from university:

-Works in a crappy retail job and lives in a tiny, crappy flat in London

-The crappy flat has no sound insulation, so he’s always hearing the absurd amount of movement from the people in the flat above and the really loud but not quite intelligible conversations from the people in the flat next door. It’s a long way to the nearest public park, and he misses the green of home.

-Is not all that good at his customer service job, with the exception that if a customer is irrationally angry about something, he says he wants to make sure he understands the problem and repeats their complaint back to them with this look in his eyes, and they universally back down and often apologize. His coworkers love him for it. Everything else is just drudgery.

-Single, despite his best efforts. Okay, maybe not his best efforts, but some efforts.

-Knows that his childhood was uncommonly idyllic at least partly due to his powers. He’s not entirely sure how his life went quite so off the rails lately.

-Maybe his powers have faded gradually since he rejected his destiny, or maybe it’s just that on some level he absorbed the expectation that being in one’s early 20’s means being broke and a little lost, and the expectation made it happen whether he wanted it or not.

-Or maybe he just should’ve chosen a more employable course of study at uni instead of comparative religion. In his defense, it seemed relevant to his life.

-Spends much of his free time on climate crisis activism. He’ll be damned (ha) if he stood against the forces of Heaven and Hell, the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, and his own birthright to preserve the continuing existence of humanity on the Earth only for humans to blunder into destroying themselves unintentionally through greed and shortsighted decisions.

-He’s been doing this since he was twelve, when Brian sent the Them’s group text an article about the group Extinction Rebellion with the caption “named for us?? :)” Adam had laughed, then actually read the article. Within a week he’d convinced the Them and a dozen of their classmates to show up at the next town council meeting with a list of sustainability demands.

-No matter how many civil disobedience events he takes part in, he never seems to get arrested. Adam suspects it’s his supernatural entity privilege. Pepper says it’s probably mostly that he’s white and great at charming his way out of trouble.

-He’s still friends with all of the Them, but they don’t live especially close together. He does have a flatmate, an American who Adam met at uni.

-At this point you, a genre-savvy reader of much Good Omens fic and meta, are probably seeing the word “American” and thinking that Adam is flatmates with Warlock Dowling. For once, you are wrong. 

-Adam’s flatmate is Jesus.

-Not Jesus Christ, but a young man named Jesus Dominguez, pronounced the Spanish way (like hay-soos).

-Jesus is from Southern California, and he talks more than a little bit like a surfer stereotype. He’s got warm brown skin, shoulder-length dark hair in perpetually-mussed waves, and a little beard. He’s kinda leaning into the look  to mess with people, but it’s also the same style found on at least a third of the other male-presenting hipsters in London.

-When he learned that he was going to share a flat with someone named Jesus, Adam called Crowley and Aziraphale. He’s never been gladder that he stayed in touch with them, because he NEEDED someone who understood how the Antichrist and Jesus sharing a flat sounded like the setup for a joke or a sitcom. Crowley did indeed laugh out loud, then told Adam that as a fellow lapsed member of the forces of Hell, he could personally recommend sharing quarters with a heavenly adversary. Aziraphale just muttered “oh, stop” at Crowley.

-Adam moved to London because it was easier to get to the important protests there, and because he was curious. He spent the first six months desperately homesick for Tadfield. The city was so crowded but somehow he still felt so alone, other than Jesus.

-Then a midnight fire-alarm in their building sent him and Jesus into the streets along with dozens of their neighbors. Adam finally met the people in the flat above theirs who made all that moving around noise. They were an older couple who took ballroom dancing lessons at the senior center and liked to practice at home. Mrs. Kapoor tried to teach Adam how to foxtrot right there on the pavement in the middle of the night. He stepped on her feet, but since he was in bare feet and she’d actually taken the time to find shoes it wasn’t a big deal.

-Meanwhile Jesus was finally talking to the loud young men from next door. By the time Adam wandered over, Jesus had learned their names (Leon, Seamus, and Nazim) and secured an invitation for the two of them to come over to watch Saturday’s football match, and to join their next D&D campaign (“just no more  paladins,” said Nazim). Adam looked forward to finding out whether it was the D&D or the football that was the cause of more yelling.

-As the evacuation stretched on with no hint of either actual fire or clearance to go back inside, the building’s children began to get fussy. Adam found a coin on the ground (successfully picking it up, because Crowley didn’t make it to this neighborhood very often) and proceeded to distract them with stage magic.

-He initially learned stage magic from Aziraphale, but he’s better at it than the angel ever was. He hardly cheats physical reality at all. The kids love it.

-When the fire department finally gives them the clearance to go back inside, Adam’s stomach rumbles. “Is anyone else hungry?,” he asks, to a chorus of agreement. It’s too late for any nearby takeout, but Jesus chats with their neighbors about options.

-Jesus enlists Adam’s help in going from flat to flat gathering ingredients from everyone, and before long they’re serving fish tacos and grilled cheese sandwiches to a small crowd of pajama-clad people. It’s 2 am, but everyone is smiling, or at least has contentment at the edge of their yawns.

-The next day, Mrs. Kapoor brings Adam and Jesus a spider plant cutting, because she thought their flat looked too bare. Adam texts a picture of it to Crowley and receives back lengthy instructions on watering, pot size, soil, and the most effective threats for the species.

-Five months later, the local planning council has an intense debate about why crime rates in one neighborhood have dropped by 75% since their last meeting. They each try to claim credit for their pet civic projects. Actually, it’s because Adam Young has started to love London, or at least his nook of it.

-Buskers soon realize that certain tube stops are generating far more tips than they ever have before, with no obvious demographic shift accounting for the change. The common ground is that these are the stops on Adam’s commutes to work and his activist meetings. He can only occasionally spare a tip himself, but his enjoyment of the music is contagious.

-Even after the breakthrough, not every day is good. On a late summer day that just happens to be the anniversary of the day the world didn’t end, Adam comes home from a protest fuming.

-“Dude, you okay?” asks Jesus, looking up from his guitar. (Jesus sometimes goes to protests with Adam, but not usually the ones where they’re planning on breaking laws. “I’m a brown-skinned foreigner, man. Do you think I’ll get away with what you get away with? I’m not ready for that yet,” he says, and Adam can’t argue.)

-“The media barely showed up at our event, probably because it was about a million degrees and even though that’s exactly what we’re protesting, nobody wants to be out in it. Six of our people passed out from the heat and three got arrested. They still didn’t arrest me, but I got pushed over and cracked my phone screen. On my way home, some drunk on the tube vomited on my shoes. Our green jobs bill still doesn’t have the votes in Parliament, and have you seen the latest news on the Antarctic ice sheets?” Adam kicks off his shoes, then collapses dramatically onto the futon and groans.

-“Sounds rough,” says Jesus.

-“I should’ve just ended the damn world when I was eleven and I had the chance. Would’ve been quicker,” Adam mutters.

-Jesus gets up and goes to the kitchen. He brings Adam a beer. “You don’t mean that, bro,” he says.

-Adam sighs, accepting the beer. “I suppose not.”

-He drinks his beer. Dog, now grey-muzzled and slow, shuffles over to curl up at his feet. Adam pulls out his phone, which is cracked but still seems functional. He’s got a text from Aziraphale.

-“Dear Adam,” the text begins, because Aziraphale might have finally deigned to learn to text but he steadfastly refused to adopt its stylistic conventions, “I hope that you have returned safely from today’s protest. I’m very proud of your continuing efforts, and though he won’t admit it I know that Crowley feels the same. Please write back at your earliest convenience. Fondly, Aziraphale”

-Adam texts back to reassure the angel, who will doubtless pass it on to Crowley, then he texts similar reassurances to his parents and to Mrs. Kapoor upstairs. He’s still figuring out this adulthood thing, but he’s got a lot of parental figures looking out for him. His Infernal Bio-Dad isn’t one of them, and that’s the way Adam likes it.

-Through the open window comes the sound of music blasting from a car stuck in traffic below. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie are singing:

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

-He turned down the chance to rule the world, and he’d make the same choice again, but he still feels a certain proprietary responsibility towards the planet and its inhabitants. His father—his real, earthly father—didn’t raise him to shirk responsibility, and he’s not one to cave under pressure.

-Life is hard, people are mostly idiots, and the world is coming apart at the seams, but it’s his messed up life and his idiotic people and his beautiful, half-broken world.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Parent Trap 2/? (Keanu x Reader)

Summary: Annie and Hallie are twin sisters who never met until they end up in the same summer camp together. They decide to switch places to see how the other lives. Hallie heads to Los Angeles to meet Keanu, owner of Arch Motorcycle Company, while Annie goes to New York to meet you, rising fashion designer. Their plan is simple: get their parents together to make the perfect family. If only it could be that easy…

Prologue | Chapter 1

Author’s notes: So we finally get to see a bit more about these clueless parents. Hope you enjoy it and feedback is always appreciated.

Wordcount: 2446

Warnings: none.

New York, August 2019

You checked your watch for the third time in the last ten minutes before glancing at the arrival board again. Hallie’s flight had landed twenty minutes ago, but the girl had yet to appear. You knew your niece was probably just waiting for her luggage, but you were anxious to see her.

Hallie had spent a month away at camp and you truly didn’t think you would miss the girl this much. As a matter of fact, you’ve always believed you would be that kind of parent that taught their kids how to be independent, have more autonomy. Raise them for the world, isn’t that the saying?

You weren’t expecting the emptiness associated with Hallie being away though. The apartment was so silent and lonely that you had to contain your urge to call the girl every night, see how the camp was going. You didn’t want to be one of those overbearing parents that smothered their kids.

So you waited for Hallie’s calls and texts, even if they started to become rarer and rarer as the month progressed. You knew that was probably a good sign. She was having too much fun to remember to check-in, but it still made you worry and stare at the phone, trying to will it to ring.

That was over now though. Hallie was finally back and you weren’t planning on letting her out of your sight. She still had another month of summer break before classes started and you planned to enjoy with her everything New York had to offer.

You rose to your tiptoes to get a better look at the new wave of people stepping through the doors. Finally, you caught sight of the familiar redhead and your lips tilted into a smile as you took a moment to just watch as your niece looked around.

Was it possible that Hallie seemed a little taller than the last time you saw her? Her jawline a little sharper? It had really been only a month? Felt like so much longer. The longest you ever had been away from her since you adopted Hallie.

It had been so hard. Especially with knowing that Annie was still out there. No matter what everyone else said, you knew in your heart that she was alive somewhere and every inch of you craved to search for Annie, but Hallie needed you too and you had been only twenty-five and all by yourself.  

You definitely didn’t regret it a second of it, though. Almost thirteen years later and look at Hallie: such an amazing, sweet kid. Maybe you managed to do this parenting thing well enough. Even if it meant you ended up making a few sacrifices in your career and romantic life. It was all worth for Hallie.

“Hallie!” you shouted and waved and the girl took a second to look your way, but her eyes lighted up as she saw you.

You didn’t know why she looked a little awed at seeing you, but before you had time to really think about it, she was rushing towards you, but stopping almost as if in hesitation.

“Welcome back, Hal!” you greeted, pulling her into a tight hug, which the girl returned.

“Thanks, m…,” Hallie paused, clearing her throat quickly. “Dave.”

You pulled back to look at her with a smile and a frown. Had Hallie been about to say what you thought she was going to? She had never called you mom and you never pushed her to do so, even if that was how you felt in your heart.

“I missed you, kiddo,” you said pushing away the thought, before bringing the girl back into your arms, inhaling the scent of her strawberry shampoo. You could swear you missed Hallie so much even her hug seemed a little different. Like you had forgotten how they felt like.

“Missed you too,” Hallie replied as she pulled back and looked up at you. Once again with that awed expression.

“Come on,” you said, picking her duffle bag while throwing an arm around her shoulders. “I wanna hear all about camp.”

In the taxi ride home, Hallie told you everything with such detail, her eyes shining bright and you couldn’t help but grin.

“It does sound you had a great time, sweetie,” you commented as the two of you stepped through the front door and you handed Hallie the keys. “Why don’t you go ahead? I wanna check the mailbox.”

Hallie just nodded and you waited until the girl had disappeared up the stairs to unlock the box and pull out three envelops. You grimaced at the words overdue on them, but shoved inside your jacket pocket, way from sight. The last thing you wanted was to worry Hallie. you would think about these bills later.

Once you arrived at your floor you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Hallie was struggling against the old lock. Moving closer, you set the girl’s bag on the ground.

“What? Been away so long you forgot the trick?” you joked, taking the girl’s place in front of the door, jiggling the keys three times while turning it so you could unlock and push it open.

“Salem!” You called. “Look who’s here!”

You looked around at the familiar room, searching for the black cat Hallie had adopted, but he was nowhere in sight. Weird. He was always waiting for you two at the door unless there was a stranger around.

You glanced over at Hallie, hoping the girl wasn’t too disappointed at not seeing her cat. You knew how much she loved Salem.

“It’s fine,” Hallie shrugged, a strange smile on her face. “I probably just smell like camp and the airplane.”

She shouldered her duffel and headed to her room without another word. As soon as she was out of sight, Salem peeked his head from under the couch, meowing softly and you sighed, kneeling to caress the cat.

“Everyone’s weird tonight,” you whispered, before flopping on the couch and ordering a pizza before checking her emails.

Yet another magazine had politely refused to feature your designs on their fashion section and you had to take a deep breath to battle sadness and tears. It wasn’t exactly surprising because your latest collection was far from your best work but you had to get something out there, find a way to keep the business afloat or be forced to sell your brand and that was the last thing you wanted.

With another sigh, you set your phone aside and moved towards your room, surprised to find Hallie standing there browsing your old sketches, the ones that hung on your wall since forever but Hallie was looking at them as if it was the first time.

“Hal?” you called to catch her attention and the girl jumped startled, looking at you almost guiltily.

“Everything ok, honey?”

“Yeah,” Hallie replied a little too quickly as her eyes shifted to the framed picture of you and Mary that you kept on your bedside table.

You watched the way the girl gently ran her finger over her mother’s face in the picture almost as if a caress; as if she was seeing for the first time.

“You’re sure?” you asked and it was impossible to miss the way Hallie wiped her eyes before turning to look at you with a smile.

“Guess I was just homesick,” she replied, voice rough with emotion.

“You’re home now,” you said, gathering your kid in your arms. “Everything’s back to normal.”

---

Los Angeles, August 2019

Keanu knew he should be paying closer attention to the meeting unfolding in front of him. A company as big as Harley interested in funding Arch meant he and Gard could go from being a custom shop based in LA to actually start selling nationally, maybe even internationally. They would be able to expand their business, maybe even start to build some of the parts they still have to import from other companies. It was huge.

Still, Keanu’s attention wavered, his eyes shifting periodically to the clock, before he glanced down at his cellphone, willing it to ring. Annie should be arriving soon and all he wanted was to be there to greet his baby girl as soon as she stepped through the gates, but this last-minute meeting had made it impossible, so Karina had to pick her up.

“We’ll get in touch once we make our decision,” Gard announced, bringing Keanu back from his musings.

He stood up from his seat to shake hands with the two sharply dressed men in their fancy elegant suits. Even Gard had thrown on a dress shirt for this meeting, but it wasn’t enough to make Keanu feel all that bad for his t-shirt and, jeans and brown hiking boots. Suits weren’t really his style.

“Did you hear a word they said?” Gard asked with an amused smile playing in his lips and Keanu chuckled, running his fingers through his messy raven locks.

“Maybe two or three,” he admitted with a sheepish look. His friend and partner snorted and shook his head, walking out of the office.

“You’re supposed to be the businessman, Ke. I’m the mechanic, remember?”

“I know, I know,” Keanu sighed, following Gard to the shop where the prototype of their new bike was waiting. “It won’t happen again. It’s just…”

“Annie is coming home, I know,” Gard smiled and patted Keanu’s back, who grinned and nodded.

Keanu had always wanted to be a father, everyone knew that. Call him old fashioned, but along with Arch, having a wife and a kid had to be one of his biggest dreams and for a while, he thought he wouldn’t be able to have it because he still hadn’t found that person he wanted to spent the rest of his life with.

In his head, Keanu thought he would first find the woman of his life, that one person that completed him, then they would have their kids and live happily ever after. Cheesy? Yes, but it had been his picture-perfect idea.

Keanu had never imagined that Annie would be the one to complete him, make him the happiest man ever. His daughter was his everything and even if he still hoped to find that person to be his partner and share his life Keanu knew now he had almost everything he wanted. He was a happy man. Especially when he was with his bikes.

Running his fingers over the smooth metal of the motorcycle, Keanu glanced at the clock again. Annie should’ve arrived by now. Why hasn’t Karina called yet?

“Maybe the flight was delayed,” Gard offered and Keanu had to smile at how his friend knew exactly what he was thinking about. “Come on. Let’s test this baby. It’ll get your mind off things.”

With a sigh, Keanu nodded. Gard was right. No matter how much he wanted his daughter to get home, staring a the clock wouldn’t make her arrive any faster. He changed into his race gear and pushed the bike to track.

It was one of the reasons Keanu and Gard had chosen to build their store in Hawthorne instead of Los Angeles itself was to be able to add this small track so they could make their tests without prying eyes.

With another glance at the clock, Keanu put on his helmet and climbed on the bike, gloved hands tightening on the handles as he twisted the accelerator, the roaring of the engine bringing a grin to his face as he settled a little more comfortably on the seat.

“Ready?” Gard asked, his voice coming loud and clear from the speaker in the helmet. Keanu only hummed in agreement. “Alright. Go.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Keanu sped away, his mind going peacefully blank as the wind rushed through him and he became one with the bike. The machine easily responding to every little nudge and twist of his body. It was one of Gard’s greatest creations and at that moment Keanu knew they couldn’t merge with Harley. This was an Arch. This was theirs and no one else’s.

After a couple of rounds in the track, Keanu brought the bike back to the gate, meeting Gard’s expectant look as he pulled off his helmet.

“It’s perfect, man!” Keanu grinned, breathless from adrenaline and excitement. “I can’t wait to show this baby off in the next circuit!”

“Great!” Gard’s grin matched his, but there was so underlying relief too. He had been working on this bike for months now, tweaking it until it was just right. “We’re ready then.”

If possible, Keanu’s grin widened even more as he handed his helmet off and walked back inside the shop, freezing in place when he saw the girl peering at the bikes exposed. His heart raced and all of the sudden, that gaping hole he had been experiencing in his chest felt full again. It was always like that whenever he was away from Annie.

“Annie,” he spoke softly but the girl’s head snapped his way, her green eyes widening slightly as her lips twisted into a smile.

“Dad...” Her voice sounded almost hesitant and he thought he saw her eyes welling up, but it was for just a second before Keanu found himself wrapped into a tight hug.

Keanu grinned widely, kissing the top of her head, sighing in relief and from the corner of his eye, he saw Karina standing there, phone in her hand and smirk on her face. Gard right beside her. They knew. They planned this. Sneaky bastards!

 “Ke, you’re gonna smother the girl,” Karina joked moving closer.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, finally letting go of Annie and being able to properly take a look at his daughter, who was watching him with something close to wonder. “I like the new hair.”

“Oh. Thanks,” she said, touching the long bob she was spotting. When he dropped her off at camp, Annie’s hair felt to mid-back. He noticed her cheeks turning a little red and Keanu frowned.

“Everything ok, sweetie?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Annie hurried to say with a quick smile. “Just tired.”

“Well, you’re home now so you can rest as much as you want,” Keanu said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Annie looked up at him, once again with that hint of hesitation and wonder, before her gaze shifted to the bike being brought inside, curiosity shining through.

“Wanna take a look at the new arch?”

“Yes!” She flashed him a big, eager smile.

“Come on then,” Keanu said, guiding her closer excitement making him forget Annie never really cared for motorcycles before today.

xxx (tbc) xxx

Go to Chapter 3

Tag list (give it a shout to be added or removed)

@toomanystoriessolittletime​ @meetmeinthematinee​ @theolsdalova​ @krazycags01​ @beyond-antares​ @cumberbatchbaps​ @sgt-morgan​ @futuristic-imbecile​ @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day​ @a-really-bi-girl​ @fanficsrusz​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @poisonedjoinery​ @soarocks​  @tnu-ree

[noonmutter]

*Grinch grin* Make me admit something... DO THEM ALL.

Pff like I haven’t had to do this rodeo before come at me scrub

1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?

That’s either my realtor or my mom, so no.

2. You talked to an ex today, correct?

No? Why on earth would I?

3. Have you taken someones virginity?

Not to my knowledge.

4. Is trust a big issue for you?

Absolutely. Trust is the core of a relationship, without it you’re just acquaintances who maybe make eye contact sometimes.

5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently?

From the phrasing I assume this means “like-like” and since I live with my fiance, yes.

( I really did answer all of them at once but I’m not enough of a turd to fill everybody’s dashboard so the rest are behind the cut! )

6. What are you excited for?

Boring work stuff that makes little sense to anybody who doesn’t work with me but is going to be just as jazzed about it as I am because they’re FINALLY FIXING SOMETHING I SAID WAS A PROBLEM A YEAR AGO–AGAIN

7. What happened tonight?

Um… it’s four in the afternoon here.

8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted?

I think it’s disgusting when anybody gets wasted. You aren’t even conscious of whatever fun you might be having and you sure as shit aren’t tasting whatever you’re drinking anymore. Quit that.

9. Is confidence cute?

Only in the context of someone who’s about to get the living shit beaten/embarrassed out of them for being confident against all advice to the contrary (”He’s gonna go punch a tarrasque in the nads! How cute!”). Otherwise confidence is just a good thing and generally rad.

10. What is the last beverage you had?

I just finished my second coke of the day about ten seconds ago and am debating a third.

11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?

“Fully” is the operative word and that number is zero of any sex.

12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans?

Probably. It’s hard not to get them when you’re at a certain size.

13. What are you gonna do Saturday night?

Work, go home, either raid or RP, and sleep. I do that basically every Saturday night.

14. What are you going to spend money on next?

Ideally a house that isn’t being sold by an idiot, but probably something less interesting like Starbucks.

15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed?

Hey @dwyndel would you consider what we’re doing “going out”?

16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months?

I mean, I hope so? Growth is important.

17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?

My fiance and my mom.

18. The last time you felt broken?

hahaha “last time”

19. Have you had sex today?

hahaha “today” I haven’t gotten laid in years. plural.

20. Are you starting to realize anything?

what the hell kinda question is this that’s not something you admit to, that’s a question that answers itself and the answer is either “no” because you aren’t or “yes” because the question made you realize it

21. Are you in a good mood?

Pretty good, yeah

22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks?

Yes but I’ll be peeing literally the entire time

23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s?

Probably. I got a lot of my looks from him, which aggravates the shit out of me since he’s a terrible person

24. What do you want right this second?

A nap

25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?

‘Can I watch’‘Were they hot’‘Do they like sharing’‘Your breath smells like infidelity’

26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color?

Yep, white streak included

27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?

Probably not, but there’s a huuuuuuge difference between “doesn’t make me laugh” and “does not have a compatible sense of humor with mine.” Some people just aren’t funny. Like me. I’m not funny at all. Jesus am I ever not funny. Wow.

28. What was the last thing that made you laugh?

A fucking Spanish Inquisition reference from Dan Avidan in Game Grumps that I’m still mad at myself for laughing at

29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now?

Eh, not really. I don’t have homesickness pangs or people-aren’t-here pangs unless I know I can’t get to them because they’re not in a place where I can go. Otherwise I’d be a sad puppy every time I went to work

30. Does everyone deserve a second chance?

No. Some people are not worth anyone’s time or effort and often they know it and abuse people’s willingness to forgive or try.

31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to?

Hatred is hard to pull out of me unless you personally did something really offensive and permanent to me. I get tired of people but I very rarely hate them. The last “boy” (he is very much an adult, calling him “boy” is fuckin’ wierd) I talked to was my supervisor and I rather like Phill

32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do?

I am engaged. You tell me.

33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda?

Not only did I just say I’m contemplating a third Coke at 4 in the afternoon, I have a bucket to collect pull tabs in for the fiance to make chainmail out of

34. Listening to?

My coworkers chattering in the office around me. I could listen to music if I wanted, but the office headsets suck ass and can’t handle bass of any kind

35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore?

Not often. My handwriting is awful and I try not to write by hand at all, but if I do, it’ll probably be in pen

36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is?

Either at home or running errands

37. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Shit no

38. Who did you last call?

Not counting work calls, I try not to call people if I can possibly avoid it. Uhhhhhhh…probably my mom.

39. Who was the last person you danced with?

hahaha “dance”

40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed?

Because she was there and smoochable

41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake?

Haven’t had cupcakes in a VERY long time, have had very good muffins from Costco this week though

42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today?

Nope, they live in Virginia and I don’t

43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?

Am I misunderstanding what you do to attract a mate?

44. Do you tan in the nude?

I don’t tan.

45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss?

Nope, that’s my smooch and I’m keeping it

46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?

Sorta. RP is kinda like talking, right?

47. Who was the last person to call you?

Realtor.

48. Do you sing in the shower?

Not really. If anything I hum; being able to hear myself too well makes me get quieter

49. Do you dance in the car?

Drum stuff out, finger-piano on the steering wheel, occasionally headbang.

50. Ever used a bow and arrow?

Once, and I’d love to again. The first/last time I fired a bow I took ten shots and bullseyed six.

51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?

College. Never doing that shit again.

52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?

That’s sort of the point of them. The question isn’t are they cheesy, it’s are they good.

53. Is Christmas stressful?

Of course it is. The only time it’s not is when you’re too young/old to have conscious thoughts, because even young children worry endlessly over what they’re getting or if they’re getting anything or what if santa thinks they were bad

54. Ever eat a pierogi?

I fucking love pierogi but I’ve only ever had the frozen ones from Mrs. T’s, Dwyn and I keep saying we should find time to make some and see how much better it is

55. Favorite type of fruit pie?

Don’t really do pies of any kind except for French Silk. Fruit pie filling is a wierd texture I don’t really enjoy

56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

Architect and animator

57. Do you believe in ghosts?

Enough to be unsettled late at night by noises I can’t identify, not enough to be unwilling to sleep in an allegedly haunted house

58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

All day every day. No joke somedays I wonder if people who think they have psychic powers are just people with really persistent deja vu, it feels like magic

59. Take a vitamin daily?

vitamin coke or vitamin coffee

60. Wear slippers?

Technically the shoes I wore to work today could count as slippers. I call them my crazy-people shoes because they have no shoelaces and no fittings

61. Wear a bath robe?

only when it’s really cold in the house

62. What do you wear to bed?

Nothing

63. First concert?

Blind Guardian at the Pop’s in Chicago when I was 13. It was their first US tour and my parents are boss people who really wanted to humor their kid. People at the show realized this tiny barely-teenager in the back knew every word to every song and pulled me to the front, and there was no barrier between crowd and stage, so I got to lean on the stage and got smirked at by the guitarist. After the show I shook Hansi Kirsch’s hand and got my copy of Imaginations From The Other Side signed. Good times

64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?

Target

65. Nike or Adidas?

Neither, they’re both overpriced shit

66. Cheetos Or Fritos?

Cheetos

67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?

Peanuts, although I’d rather have cashews

68. Favorite Taylor Swift song?

I don’t know any taylor swift songs nor do I care

69. Ever take dance lessons?

Nope

70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

Hadn’t given that one any thought beyond helping her job hunt in the immediate sense. I can see her doing costuming on a professional level eventually, though

71. Can you curl your tongue?

I never know what people mean by this. I can make an “O” shape with my tongue but that’s it, I never figured out that clover shape

72. Ever won a spelling bee?

Multiple. I almost went national in …something-before-sixth-grade-because-I-remember-beating-sixth-graders but refused to go because I wanted to stop being stared at (seriously, I just didn’t want to go because I hated being on a stage). I’m sure that frustrated my mom

73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?

A few times, but not often

74. What is your favorite book?

One of the Discworld novels, but the answer is ever-changing because they’re all pretty goddamn great. Picking one out of a hat, Unseen Academicals is pretty rad just because it’s got such a great take on [thing that spoils the plot if I say it]

75. Do you study better with or without music?

I was not a studying kid, I was a “retains everything as long as nobody stops me from doodling while they’re teaching and it’s not about numbers” kid. Thinking about it I was probably doing some eidetic memorization tricks without realizing it, my fact retention is/was top notch when I cared

76. Regularly burn incense?

Nope, I have over 100 allergies and a lot of them are to plants so I’m not risking that bullshit

77. Ever been in love?

I am engaged to be married right now

78. Who would you like to see in concert?

Does Critical Role count?

79. What was the last concert you saw?

H…alestorm? I think? It’s actually been a while

80. Hot tea or cold tea?

Hot plz

81. Tea or coffee?

Tea if it’s just the drink itself, coffee if I can put a ton of shit in it so I can only barely taste the actual coffee

82. Favorite type of cookie?

Does Not Contain Raisins

83. Can you swim well?

I can swim, Iunno about well? I’ve never been in danger of drowning for lack of swimming ability, I guess

84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

What an interesting question, it hadn’t occurred to me there are people who can’t until now

85. Are you patient?

When I choose to be

86. DJ or band, at a wedding?

If it’s affordable and the right band, band. Otherwise DJ and karaoke because HELL YEAH GET YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY DRUNK AND LET THEM SING

87. Ever won a contest?

A smattering of spelling bees, a couple art contests, summer reading competitions. Nerd shit, yanno? Although I’ve won those water gun shooting gallery games at Six Flags every time there’s enough people to play, too

88. Ever have plastic surgery?

Nope

89. Which are better black or green olives?

Olives are gross

90. Opinions on sex before marriage?

It’s sex, who cares

91. Best room for a fireplace?

Living room and/or bedroom

92. Do you want to get married 

I am engaged right now

@theengraver EAT ME

[luvknow]

harry potter au | bang chan

*two seconds after putting the sorting hat on* ❝ GRYFFINDOR! ❞

BANG CHAN, half-blood

house: gryffindor patronus: oryx wand: english oak wood with a pheonix core, 13″ & supple favorite subject: astronomy quidditch position: captain/beater

woojin | CHAN | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin

growing up as a half-blood was a very confusing time for chan.

he spent his entire primary education in a muggle school, doing muggle things with muggle children.

but when he was at home, magic was all around him.

all of the pictures moved, all the chores were done with magic, and the family owl and cat were his beloved pets.

chan was a smart boy - he knew not to tell any of his muggle friends about his magical half, even if it was extremely tempting so he could be the most popular boy in school.

it was no surprise to anyone, especially to his hufflepuff mother, that chan was sorted immediately into gryffindor.

he exuded a loud and proud energy, only fitting for someone with a heart of a lion.

chan did well in some classes and others he did just ok. a lot the subjects required a lot of reading and sometimes it was too much on him.

but the one subject he could never get tired of was astronomy.

as a half-blood, knowing that both muggles and witches & wizards lived under the same universe and studied the same galaxies, chan used astronomy as a way to connect both of his roots.

his hufflepuff mother loved astronomy, too - so much that the family went on frequent camping trips to read the stars or to find the planets in retrograde.

on nights when even sending an owl to his family couldn’t ease his homesickness, you could find him at the astronomy tower gazing up at the sky, hoping his family was looking at it, too.

but don’t be fooled! the whole ‘dreamer’ concept might sound really romantic to strangers, but if you are his close friend, you’d soon realize that he’d also tie in astrology to your everyday lives because what’s astronomy without astrology?

“do i want a brass cauldron or a copper cauldron? i mean, my telescope is brass, so i should choose brass, right?”

“oh my god, chan, i don’t know. why are you always so indecisive?”

“i’m sorry! it’s because i’m a libra.”

“...”

despite the on-going house rivalry, chan didn’t really care for that kind of petty stuff.

ravenclaw, hufflepuff, hell even slytherin, as long as you were nice then he didn’t mind you.

but on the quidditch pitch, everyone was his enemy.

chan used to play baseball a lot during his muggle years and he thought well, being a beater is kind of like the same thing, right?

he wasn’t completely wrong, but he greatly misjudged the weight of the bat and the bludger.

lo and behold, he became one of the youngest beaters in gryffindor history and made his way up to becoming the captain.

being a captain had its perks - he became so popular and well-liked throughout the castle that houses that weren’t playing against them in a match rooted for gryffindor to win.

even if being popular was exciting, he didn’t like that it took so much time out of his nights. he hasn’t been able to visit the astronomy tower recently because of it.

one night, after finally getting a lot of time to himself, he visited the astronomy tower after what seems like forever and a day.

to his surprise, he was not alone when he arrived.

“_____?” he said quite loudly, causing you to jump and knock down your telescope.

“merlin, chan! don’t just sneak up me like that at this hour! goodness, why are gryffindors always so loud...”

“sorry!” he chuckled, settling down next to you. “i’m not used to sharing this space is all.”

“it’s not your space to share,” you scoffed.

“what are you doing out so late?”

“totally forgot to do the homework that’s due tomorrow. you?”

“no reason. i just really like it up here.”

“how did you sneak out of your common room?”

“i use a sob story that the fat lady can’t resist. how about you?”

“i’m a prefect. guess it’s not really considered sneaking out though, huh?”

“you’re a prefect? shouldn’t you be patrolling right now?”

“i’m off-duty tonight. i only said i was on-duty so i could finish my homework. but no one needs to know that, right?” you smirked.

“and just when i thought that there was no way you could be a slytherin, you prove me wrong.”

“i’ll take that as a compliment.”

chan sat next to you watching the stars in silence as you finished naming all of the stars that were assigned as homework.

you two didn’t know each other too well, but you knew enough that thankfully the silence wasn’t awkward.

you even asked if he could check over your answers.

“they’re all correct. that’s impressive.”

“you’re not the only one at hogwarts who likes this subject. and thank you.”

“heading back now?”

“yeah, i’m tired. you’re staying?”

“just for a little bit - dammit! i forgot my telescope...”

“you can borrow mine,” you shrugged. “just don’t break it - it’s the limited edition one in copper.”

“oooh ~” chan sang, holding your prized possession with care.

“and don’t tell anyone about tonight, ok? i don’t want to lose my prefect privileges.”

“it’ll be our little secret,” he winked.

“ugh, gross.”

but of course, how foolish of you to think chan would be secretive about your little encounter.

he was a gryffindor after all - loud and proud.

“thanks for letting me use your telescope last night,” he said, handing yours back to you at the start of class.

“quiet down, will you!?” you hissed after snatching it from his hands. “people have ears!”

“so what?”

“‘so what’? you’re a gryffindor! i’ll get banned by my house if people know i hung out with you after hours!”

“you’re worried about that but not about abusing your prefect privileges?” chan pouted.

“yes.”

“you’re such a conformer... wanna go back tonight?”

“... yeah...”

that was yours and chan’s thing - going up to the astronomy tower after hours talking about the universe and the alignment of stars and how it brought together a typical gryffindor and an unbothered slytherin.

after a couple of meetings with him, you realized why he was so popular.

it wasn’t just because he was captain of the quidditch team - it was because he was genuine and had a kind soul.

he didn’t care that you were slytherin. he cared that you were just like him, someone who didn’t refuse to befriend someone because of house rivalry.

“you’re late,” you scolded him one evening. you were in the middle of finishing up your astronomy homework last minute as you always did when he took a seat next to you.

“sorry. i had something to take care of.”

“mmm, like what?”

“like signing up for the triwizard tournament.”

without hesitation, you hit chan with your astronomy homework.

“ow, what the hell, _____!”

“are you out of your mind!? why would you do something like that!?”

“i don’t know, it seems like fun!”

“does dying seem like fun to you!?”

“i’ll be fine! besides, the goblet of fire might not even pick me!”

“if it does, you better have a plan,” you tisked.

“i do! and you’ll help me, right?” he pleaded, giving you those weird puppy dog eyes.

“of course i will! i refuse to let those prissy beauxbatons and savage drumstrangs come onto our territory thinking they’ll win...”

“i’ll just pretend your reason is because you’re worried about me.”

“your words, not mine.”

a month before the first task, the beauxbatons and drumstrangs made their unnecessarily choreographed musical entrance into the great hall.

you couldn’t help but notice from your slytherin table how chan didn’t try hiding his gaze set on the pretty blue belles.

when it was time for the drawing, the stars were not in chan’s favor and the goblet spit out someone else’s name.

a huge wave of relief washes over you and you check to see chan’s expression. it was a mixture of both disappointment and relief.

“i can’t believe i wasn’t picked! i would have so won the tournament for us, too!” chan groaned as he paced the floor of the astronomy tower. “i really wanted to fight some dragons, too...”

“honestly, i think you could have won, too. but if it makes you feel any better, i heard dragons aren’t even involved this time.”

“... yeah, that makes me feel a little better.” chan takes his seat next to and can’t help but shoot you a teasing look. “so are you glad i’m not risking my life anymore?”

“i mean, i guess, although now that other hufflepuff guy has to go through it.”

“so i’m on the same level as some hufflepuff to you?” he pouted.

“i suppose i’m... glad... that you won’t die anytime soon...”

“why are you so difficult...”

“it’s my job as your friend.”

days pass and chan’s bitterness about the triwizard tournament soon dwindle to nothing and you’re thankful that you don’t have to hear his bickering anymore.

as the nights get longer, they temperature begins to drop, and your meetings with chan are starting to get shorter because of how unprepared you are with your attire.

as a prefect, you’re not allowed to leave castle grounds past curfew unless necessary, and if you left your common room every time with a sweater, people would start to think you were breaking that rule.

chan didn’t like that you were spending less time with him, so he took the issue into his own hands.

“here,” chan said, handing you a spare sweater.

“what’s this for?”

“it’s cold at nights now and you never bring a sweater, so i brought one in case you need it.”

“o-oh, thanks. that’s kind of you.”

“sorry that it’s a gryffindor sweater. i forgot to pack my slytherin sweater,” he joked.

“even if you did, i wouldn’t wear it - you’re gryffindor hands would have tainted it,” you scoffed.

“you’re so cruel to me!” he whined. “why can’t you be nice to me like the girls from beauxbatons?”

you’d never admit it, but that sentence struck a nerve and now you were a bit irritated.

you had yet to meet a beauxbaton who was nice.

“go stargaze with one of them then,” you muttered bitterly.

“i was kidding ~!” he chucked, nudging your pouty form playfully. “i was thinking about asking one of them to the yule ball, though.”

ok, now you were really irritated.

what made him think you cared about who he was taking to that stupid ball!? it’s not like you told him all the guys that asked you to go!

“then do it,” you stated flatly, hoping he’d end the conversation there. “no one’s stopping you.”

“yeah, but after talking with some of them, i realized they weren’t my type,” he shrugged. “so i thought i’d ask you instead.”

“of course they aren’t your type, they’re all stuck up and boring!” you groaned, almost completely missing the second half of his sentence.

with a hot face and an embarrassed stutter, you asked, “w-wait, what did you say?”

“i said i didn’t want to take any of them to the yule ball and that i’d rather go with you instead.” a shy smile grew on chan’s lips. “so will you go with me?”

“y-yeah, sure. it’ll be fun,” you said, returning his smile with a shy one of your own.

“it’ll be more than fun - it’ll be the most fun night you’ve ever experienced.”

“bold of you to say that.”

“i’m a bold guy,” he smirked. “you know you’re really cute when you’re jealous.”

“shut up.”

getting ready for the yule ball was a pain in the ass.

getting your hair ready, your make-up, shoes, the damn dress, all of it took too much time because you worried too much.

but hey, in the end you looked pretty freakin’ good.

and chan thought so, too, as he waited for you outside of the great hall in a handsome suit.

his eyes sparkled with adoration more and more the closer you approached him and he couldn’t keep his jaw shut.

he was completely awestruck, and it was starting to get embarrassing the longer he looked at you.

“wow...” he gasped. “you look beautiful.”

“just tonight?” you teased.

“no. always.”

“you’re not too shabby yourself, bang chan.”

the two of you barely ate because you wanted nothing more than to dance the night away.

you danced to the hip songs, the goofy songs, the punk rock songs, and lastly, the slow songs.

as soon as the tempo slowed, chan didn’t hesitate to take your hand and wrap them around his neck, knowing how nervous you’d be to make the first move.

“are you enjoying tonight?” he asked, though the grin on your lips was already enough of an answer.

“honestly, it’s the most fun i’ve had in a while.”

“more fun than our nights in the astronomy tower?”

“it’s definitely up there, but nothing could beat that.”

“then let’s go.”

“to the tower? right now?”

“i promised tonight would be the most fun night you’ve ever had and if that means ditching the ball to go to the astronomy tower, how could i refuse?”

without another word, you took chan by his hand and ran away to the astronomy tower and stayed until you saw the sun rising.

chan’s sweaters wouldn’t be able to keep you warm this time, but that’s ok.

his suit jacket and his arms wrapped around you were more than enough.

[hamyheikki]

53. or 58. for Machiabilly!

Prompt list

Hey! I went with 53. “It’s lonely here without you”, and this dialog was a blast to write! Hope you like it.

While lying his drained body on top of the thick hotel mattress, Billy couldn’t help but throw a quick glance towards his phone on the nearby desk. He had set it to charge about ten minutes ago, and already he had an itching desire to grab it and go through his messages and missed calls just in case he hadn’t heard them at the first time. He had only been back in America for a day, and already he was missing the sounds of his own bedroom back in Paris, and more importantly, the man who occupied that said bedroom with him. Machiavelli had promised to keep a close eye on him via phones and skype, but it simply wasn’t the same as being physically close together. And even if Billy was truly enjoying the company of his old friends and their long-planned road trip across the States, he knew that something was missing.

For the first time in a quite a while, Billy felt lonely.

However, after a few minutes of quiet brooding, he managed to distract himself with a notion of a free cable TV, a courtesy offered to him by the hotel’s staff after they mistakenly had directed him into a room that obviously had housed a rather rowdy pack of people just before his arrival. Billy could still smell the odor coming from behind the closed bathroom door, the one even the staff had refused to open in front of him.

There were a number of channels to choose from, and after a moment of browsing he settled on an old movie from the 80’s. It was a comedy, from what he could tell, and with a contented sigh he pressed his back against the fluffy pillows and immersed himself into the film. It didn’t seem to be a long one either, so he’d have time to finish it in one sitting.

A perfect, quiet evening.

Calming, an excellent chance for him to restore his energy and get ready for tomorrow.

To just lay down and relax.

… He couldn’t take it! He had to see his phone, to make sure he hadn’t accidentally put it on silence and missed Niccolò’s calls. Or maybe the battery of his phone had actually died down completely, and he had forgotten to turn it back on before plugging it in.

Tossing the pillow he had been hugging, Billy jumped up and made his way to the low desktop beside the king-sized bed he had been resting upon. The screen of the phone was dark and the small, red light in the top corner indicated that the charging process was still ongoing as he pulled the wire off. He tapped in his code, starting to open up the message app as soon as the screen came to life. There seemed to be one unread text hanging on the upper line, but Billy had the feeling that it had been there for a while. Pulling the additional information of the message up, his assumption was confirmed; it was a text from his insurance company, the one he had been ignoring ever since he had seen it pop up first time.

It could wait a little longer. He slipped the text back to the “unread” category, now backing all the way back to the main screen where his call-button was.

He should just call to Mac. Even if they’d agreed that the older man was the one to contact him, Billy saw no harm in changing the plan around. After all, they were together. He had the right to call to his boyfriend whenever he pleased, especially since he was not able to see him face to face and was feeling more than a bit homesick at the moment, right?

He had the number on speed-dial, so a few seconds later the phone was tooting, the line cracking ever so slightly. Maybe it was because of the distance between them. Billy had never had much faith in modern telephone connections, and he’d noticed during his travels that they rarely worked as they should have been when the two people were on a different continents.

But after a couple of minutes, he heard a muted voice coming on at the other end of the line.

“Machiavelli.” The Italian sounded tired. In fact, he sounded half asleep.

Still, hearing him speak brought a smile on Billy’s lips. “Mac! It’s me. I was feeling a bit alone so I thought I’d call you instead!”

There was a moment of silence. “Instead of what?” The magician’s bewilderment was clear despite Billy not being able to see his frowning face.

“Instead of you calling me! Jeez Mac, we went through this twice before I left,” Billy said, glancing at the clock on the desk. “So, what’re you up to?”

“Billy, it’s 04:00 am here, what do you think I’m up to?”

“Umm…”

“You do remember that there is a seven hour time difference between Paris and Texas?”

“Yeah, sure…”

“You forgot.”

A nervous laughter was the only answer Billy came up with. He had, indeed, forgotten that while it was only an early evening for him, for his partner it was nearly a morning.

No wonder Mac sounded so exhausted.

“Well, it’s lonely here without you. I wanted to hear your voice.” Which was true, but Billy doubted it would do much to level out Niccolò’s temper. The man was rather precise about his sleeping schedule.

“And now you’ve heard it. Does that mean I can get back to sleep?”

A small lump formed in Billy’s throat when he heard the words. “Uhh, I guess. But don’t you miss me at all?”

“No.”

“Mac!” He was getting whiny, and he knew it.

“It’s quite calming, to be honest. I have this quiet, clean house all for myself. And it even stays that way once I leave for errands.” Now the muffled voice carried a teasing edge. “One might get used to this kind of luxury every now and then.”

Billy huffed. “You didn’t get much hugs when you were a kid, did you?”

He caught the end of a deep chuckle through the static line. “More than you’d think.” After a small pause, Machiavelli continued: “I can talk for a moment, but no more than few minutes. I need to sleep before my alarm goes off.”

The wide grin was back to Billy’s face in a heartbeat. “Yeah, sure. Whatever works for you, man.” He was just glad Niccolò hadn’t hung up already. With a practiced ease, they slid into a conversation, started by Billy’s absurd mutters as usual.

“So, earlier today I saw this cute little poodle padding down a street with his owner. He had such a pure white fur, and when I talked to the guy who was walking him I found out that he was a poodle/havanese mix.”

A sigh was audible despite the crackling of the bad reception. “Is this story going somewhere, Billy?”

“I’m getting to that! Anyway, we talked for a while and I pet the dog. But once I left, I started to think about dogs in general. Mac, how come when we domesticated dogs from wolves, they ended up looking so different now, but cats have stayed pretty much the same? Isn’t that weird?”

“I am not immensely fond of either of those species, so forgive me but I sincerely have no idea, nor am I too keen to find out,” Machiavelli said dryly. “Furthermore, biology has never been my strong suit.”

Billy smirked at that. It was rare for Niccolò to admit he wasn’t expert on something. Just goes to show how tired the man must be. Billy always enjoyed their late-night talks, but over the months he had noticed that his older partner offered very little betting in midst of these conversations compared to when he was actually awake.

“Huh, point taken. So, what kind of animals do you like then? I bet snakes are pretty high on the list,” Billy said as he lied back on the bed and let his gaze roam across the ceiling above.

“They are, but I wouldn’t take them as pets. Too much of a hasle.”

“Then what would make a perfect pet?”

Once again there was a few seconds of silence before the answer.

“I’ve always been intrigued by parrots.”

Billy’s eyes widened. “Parrots? As in those big-ass birds that can talk?” He never knew Niccolò found them interesting. But then again, he couldn’t help but relish the surprising nature of their relationship. He was learning new stuff about Mac all the time, and he loved it.

Over the line, Niccolò spoke out: “Not every individual can talk, Billy. But yes, I would like to have one of them as a pet.”

“Aah, because they’re smart like you?” He had to tease. It felt like it’d been too long since he had last poked fun at the older man.

“No, they remind me of you, actually.”

Well, that was surprising. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. They constantly want attention, they have a tendency to repeat your speech back to you without adding much insight to it, and the only way to shut them up is to throw a blanket over them.”

Should have known.

Glancing quickly at the clock, Billy noted that it was steadily creeping past the half-ten already. They’d have to say goodbye soon, but not before he’d had a final jab at his lover.

“Hmm, I don’t know Mac. I can think of a few other ways to shut me up.”

He grinned as the silence went on, seeing in his mind the way Niccolò’s ears would burn red, as they always did when he began to tease him like this.

A sound of a throat clearing followed the quiet period. “Yes, well, we can see to that once you’ve returned safely from your travels.”

The simple sentence forced Billy to slip his eyes shut, a serene smile replacing the cocky grin he had worn a mere seconds ago.

He really missed his darling.

“I’d like that.”

[odetoo]

au + 5 hc atla university/professorship au.

Hhhmmm… I hope my interpretation is to your liking. Most of the AUs I’ve talked about and know that are similar to this one are Music Professor AUs which are fun right??? The music professor headcanons are borrowed/inspired by/built off of @firelord-frowny‘s music AUs

1. Zuko is difficult. His father is the head of the music department/director of a prestigious university’s orchestra, and Zuko wants nothing to do with instruments and how to use them… He’s interested in drawing and painting and the visual arts. And Ozai tries his best to put up with that… But as he gets older, Zuko actually becomes pretty good at drawing and Ozai refuses to admit that Zuko is good at that only because he doesn’t see it getting Zuko anywhere in the world.After winning awards in local and school art shows in the last years of high school, Zuko finally convinces his father to let him go to art school, telling him about all the things he could do after he earned a diploma in art. So after telling Zuko to apply for as many scholarships as he could, Ozai decided to pay for Zuko’s tuition at Cal Arts…. However…. Zuko was not fit to be a college student… Didn’t like how the teachers taught their classes, didn’t get enough sleep, or eat enough food, showed up late or he didn’t even show up to classes. So he dropped out after a year and Ozai was pissed. Pissed that he had to spend that money on a school Zuko would drop out of. They have a falling out and Zuko is kicked out.Not having anywhere to go… Iroh offers to take him and Zuko moves to New York with his uncle until he can find a way to make enough to live on his own. He gets a job working as a waiter in a bar next to a tattoo studio. One night after his shift, he passes the owner of the tattoo studio taking a smoke break out back, his arms are all decorated with fancy art and Zuko likes art… So he asks, and they have a long conversation. He finds out the owner is a retired lieutenant from the Navy, and he’s rather grumpy and has no problem speaking his mind. His name is Jee. He also finds out that he’s open to an apprenticeship and the very next day Zuko comes back with a portfolio of his own art and the lieutenant sees potential and accepts to take Zuko as his apprentice, but that doesn’t mean he has to like the kid. Zuko realizes he’s quite happy carving art into people’s skin, and that he didn’t need to earn a piece of paper that said he went to X school of arts to be successful.

2. Azula, quite opposite of Zuko, was always rather gifted. She was playing the violin quite well before she was in her double digits, she was a prodigy. When it came time for college, she of course got a full ride scholarship to the university where her father headed the music department at. Even as a freshman, she’d get first chair and the position of concert master. Anyone who dared to even dream to have her spot would be squashed out by Azula’s sheer determination to be the best, to be perfect… And really everyone thought the reason she was picked for concert master was because she was the director’s daughter, but even if you did take that factor of relation away, she was actually that good to always get first seat when auditions were held. The day she loses her seat to someone else is the day she falls apart, and at home that night, she would confront her father about picking someone else and he would simply reply with ‘Because she performed better than you did.’ She loses her composure for one night and by the next day she’s trying to better her skills to reclaim her seat by the next audition.

3. Aang is aged up a little to be a young professor. He teaches at a liberal arts college and specializes in social studies, more specifically human sexuality and lgbtq studies. He’s the kind of teacher that comes in late to his own class with a bottle of homemade fruit/veggie/herb beverage that everyone wonders about. He’s the kind of professor that hands out cute plushie versions of STI microbes during the STI unit in his human sexuality class. He’s the kind of professor that you can talk to about anything at anytime and he won’t be fazed, he’s a friend. He’s the kind of professor that doesn’t take attendance and has no penalty set for missing classes, because he understands that life happens and college just isn’t for everyone. People who take his class seriously and show up and really care about their education and ask a lot of questions are his favorite kind of students. He doesn’t have exams or quizzes because he doesn’t believe those actually measure a person’s intelligence on a subject. Instead he assigns short essay/journal assignments requiring minimal amount of research on something vaguely relating to the current topic in the class and honestly he just likes reading the students’ thoughts… In fact he encourages creativity so much that he forbids students from writing an essay or research paper for their final projects.

4. Sokka wanted to join the Marine Corps right after he graduated high school. That doesn’t happen because right at the end of junior year, he discovers that he’s been colorblind the entire time… He’s absolutely crushed by this development. Now he has to go to college right away uuUUUgghhh. He goes to a two year school to get his gen eds out of the way and then goes on to a state university and pursues a study in engineering. He’s actually incredibly book smart, and complex math comes easy to him. This college thing isn’t as bad as he thought it would be he thinks. He’s also the kind of student that hosts legendary parties in his apartment, and he spends a lot of his weekends partying, but still manages to do well and get his homework done on time.During one of his parties, he meets somebody(Whoever you want it to be because I honestly don’t know) and he pretty much hits it off quite well with them and before long they’re in a relationship and then living together, and honestly its so bizarre to him how different his life might be if he weren’t colorblind.

5. Katara goes to med school and that’s like… A six year ordeal, and she appears to get through it so gracefully. She does want to be the woman to cure cancer after all, especially since that’s what took her mother away from her :c Though the med school she wants to go to is far away from the rest of her family and they’re really concerned about her especially when she seems so tired when they talk to her and when she doesn’t come home for family events because school work has her weighed down… She really doesn’t get through at as gracefully as her peers see her do, because she ends up really homesick in the end. She goes home, and starts small, working at a clinic close to home and she’s quite humble and happy with that, she just needs a breather.

[acsversace-news]

March 1994, Miami. An unsteady Gianni, wearing sunglasses and with his hoodie up, is helped down a hospital hallway by Antonio. He pauses when he sees the room at the end of the hall, and its inhabitants: two frail-looking men, apparently receiving transfusions. The doctor from the previous episode approaches and murmurs, "There are no journalists here." Gianni removes his hood and shades as he's told in VO, "There are drugs; the therapies are complex, difficult. But there are options."

We cut then to Gianni and Antonio and the doctor in her office, but before Gianni talks about his other sister, let's…just get into it with The AIDS Rumor, which if I understand correctly is the Versace family's primary objection to American Crime Story. The show to this point has taken pains not to identify Gianni's malady, I imagine primarily to avoid a lawsuit, but also possibly in part to create a meta conversation about what viewers might presume is -- and what law enforcement did presume was -- afflicting a gay man. I think it's Richard Lawson in last week's episode of the Still Watching: Versace podcast who notes that the mid- to late nineties marked the end of the period in the culture in which every story about gay men centered around HIV/AIDS, or at least dwelt in the shadow of the disease. And if this is the diagnosis that Gianni received in 1994, we hadn't quite gotten to the point with the cocktail and various other advances in treatment where we thought of AIDS as a manageable chronic condition; we didn't quite think of it as an absolute death sentence the way we had even five years prior, but the odds still weren't great.

Those odds had improved somewhat by the time Gianni was killed -- but this was not widely understood, and if I'm not mistaken the family was determined to keep the diagnosis secret, if only for business reasons, so they went with a cover story about a "rare ear cancer" that had a cheerier prognosis and nothing to do with Gianni's sexuality (and with which the doctor's bromides above would dovetail), so as not to upset the investor herd before the IPO. The family also made sure to retrieve Gianni's body extremely quickly from the M.E.'s office, and had it cremated just as quickly, no doubt motivated by the same fear that his actual condition might become public. It can be a little hard to plug into this particular strain of paranoia here in 2018, but if you lived through the eighties…my God, the contortions public figures would go through, felt they had to go through (and were not wrong), to deny that they were ill or that it was AIDS. Freddie Mercury in particular, it just became the only thing anyone had to say about him despite his repeated denials. (I love that he wouldn't give the press the satisfaction until literally the day before he died. "Fine: it's AIDS. Happy now? Great. BYE BITCHES.") And what was his other choice? Admit it, and then on top of facing the end, he's got to do it in the corner, heaped up with judgment. What a grimy and unjust way for the world to do Freddie after everything he gave it.

This is, then, what the Versace family wanted to avoid, and I get it. I guess I get it still continuing 20 years later, their rigid refusal to engage with this reality, because who knows what clauses lurk in various partnership agreements about transparency or due diligence or whatever. Not that I wouldn't get behind a "yeah, he had AIDS, and it was ONE THING about the guy so fuck off" attitude, because duh, but: this is where it is right now. Where the show is, I think, is implying as strongly as it possibly can without opening the network to a full-court libel press that Gianni Versace had received an AIDS diagnosis, and because 1) I think this is likely and 2) it speaks to the larger story, to Andrew Cunanan's story, and to the time in which we find their stories, this is how I will also proceed. End sidebar. "Thank God." Yeah, wait 'til I start getting granular about mint marks. You'll long for the halcyon days of this paragraph.

Okay, so: back to the doctor's office. Gianni relates that, before Donatella was born, his older sister Tina became very ill with peritonitis. His parents sent him to live with an aunt and uncle, but he got homesick and ran all the way home -- to find his sister in an open casket, "surrounded by white flowers." Nobody told him she had died. "Until that moment I believed that if you get sick, you can also get better," he says grimly, and: see above. The line makes more sense if you don't think he's talking about ear cancer, no?

Back at the manse, Antonio tucks Gianni into a big sleigh bed. Donatella comes in to stroke Gianni's forehead, and tells Antonio she needs to talk to Gianni. She takes his hands in hers and they look at each other before she quavers, "What is Versace without you?" It will be you, he tells her. "What am Iwithout you?" "You will find out," he smiles. She lies on his chest and he strokes her hair.

In the hallway outside, as Donatella is rummaging through her handbag for a Morley (hee), Antonio half-asks, half-states, "You blame me?" Next to a pointedly Callipygian statue on the same table as her handbag

Donatella asks if Gianni wasn't enough for Antonio -- he had to have more men, more fun, and Gianni went along with him. Antonio says Gianni "chose to," but Donatella corrects him: Gianni chose Antonio, and went along because of Antonio. "I am not a villain," Antonio sighs, adding that Gianni isn't a saint. "My brother has a weakness for beauty; he forgives it anything," Donatella says, putting on her jacket and turning to face Antonio. "But I am not my brother." No shit, Antonio says, but Donatella isn't done, asking why Antonio didn't give Gianni a family when he knew Gianni wanted one. "Because we're not allowed!" Antonio duhs. Donatella snarks that he could have found a way. She's heading out when Antonio explodes -- fairly quietly; they're still outside Gianni's sickroom -- that he's always been there for her; what has she ever done besides belittle him, and Gianni for choosing him? She whirls around: what has Antonio given Gianni -- safety? stability? kids? She'd respect him if he'd given Gianni anything, but he's given him nothing.

Gianni and Antonio walk on the beach. Gianni says that, before, he could channel negative emotions into creating; now, he's too sick. He starts to have an anxiety attack, saying he just wants to get "out of me."

At the villa, Donatella, her arm party of huge gold bracelets, and her pork-roast-sized flip phone are smoking on the steps when the men return. She takes Gianni's hand; he turns to face them both and announces that he won't get through this if they can't be a family. He goes inside. Antonio glares flatly at Donatella from behind his shades. She is chastened enough to look away.

July 16, 1997. It's nighttime. Rain sprinkles the impromptu shrine that has sprung up outside the villa's front gates. Donatella watches from inside, weeping. She's heading further back into the house, past where Antonio is half-lounging in that same anteroom, and Antonio tries to get her to talk to him, but she's like, Gianni's dead, we don't have to pretend anymore, and closes the bedroom door.

A mortician places a picture of Gianni next to him on the slab, and begins filling in the wound in his face and a scrape on his shoulder. As he's being made up, Donatella comes into the courtyard, sunglasses on, and turns to look at the house, and specifically the balcony of Gianni's room. Then, shielded by umbrellas, she runs the gantlet of flashbulbs and gets into a car.

At a funeral parlor, Donatella approaches Gianni's open casket. A crucifix is pointedly affixed to the inside of the lid. She slowly draws her sunglasses off and stares, fear flickering across her face. Penelope Cruz looks very young in this shot. An attendant behind her unzips a suit bag; cut to Donatella carefully zhuzhing the lapels and the necktie on Gianni in the casket. Once he's ready, Donatella's face crumples as she looks down at him. She bends down to kiss him and continues to cry, murmuring in Italian.

The casket is pushed into the crematory oven.

Gianni's ashes are carefully transferred to a baggie, which is affixed with a golden tag reading "GMV." The baggie is put in a box and sealed with diplomatic-pouch tape.

The box is put into a gold ornamental urn, topped with flowers, and carried onto the family's private jet by Santo, where Donatella sits next to it and says through tears, "After everything he survived -- to be killed like this."

After the title card, we're in May of 1997. Cunanan is driving the red pickup through Florence, SC. He pulls into a mall to find some South Carolina plates to steal, and as he's affixing them to the truck, he notices a girl watching him. He arranges his face into what he thinks is a cheery smile. The girl isn't having it.

He lets the smile melt off, chucks the old plates in the truckbed, and pulls out, powering up with some Oreos and milk and dialing around on the radio. After sampling some country tunes and a bulletin about the murder of Lee Miglin -- in which he is named as a suspect -- he comes upon Laura Branigan's "Gloria," which is just the thing, especially the line "If everybody wants you / why isn't anybody callin'." He bellows that one out the window, and as my esteemed colleague Tara Ariano noted on The Blotter Presents last week, this is quite a performance of mediocre car-singing from an actor known for his, you know, singing. But he's really feeling himself as he bellows along, past a sign reading "Miami 650"…

…and Ms. Branigan carries us into a helicopter shot of the Miami beachfront, the Versace villa, and Cunanan speeding into town in the pickup. At the Normandy Plaza hotel, Cunanan walks past Ronnie -- the guy they found in his room at the end of the premiere -- smoking sketchily on the front lanai and into the lobby, where a tacko portrait of Marilyn over a fake mantel seems to tell him he's in the right place. When a desk clerk finally appears, Cunanan makes a big show of saying he doesn't have a reservation, but maybe they might have a room for him anyway? She's like, it's an SRO, Blanche; chill. Cunanan gives her a French passport as ID that says he's Kurt DuMarrs, and starts blathering on about how he was born in Nice and she should visit sometime, and he came all the way to Miami to talk to Gianni Versace because he's a poor fashion student, and blah blah some outfit of Carla Bruni's with a gold belt, I don't even know. But somewhere in there he charms the desk clerk.

Less charming: the room itself. The common areas of the motel don't look so bad, but the interior hallways and the rooms: Wayne Grotsky.

Literally nothing is going to show dirt and fingerprint grease like that institutional pink. But Cunanan seems unbothered, and starts unloading his backpack right onto the jizzfest that is the room's comforter, like, did we not all know not to do that yet by 1997? I feel like we did. Mostly this is so we see the gun again, which is pointless telegraphing of something that…already happened, but Cunanan heads over to the villa and marches up to the front gate and tries the front door. It's locked, doy, but Cunanan looks a little angry, and also a little confused, like he expected his imaginary future friend Gianni to have left it open for him.

The next morning, Cunanan buys a disposable camera (kids, ask your parents) and a ball cap and sunglasses at a kiosk, which is also displaying the "MADMAN!" cover of Sports Illustrated devoted to Mike Tyson chomping Evander Holyfield's ear. Cute -- and it places us around the Fourth of July, 1997, as the coverline on that issue is 7/7/97. Cunanan heads back to the front gates and snaps several pictures of them and the house, then stares creepily into the eyes of the Medusa on the front door. Later, he carefully lays the developed pictures out in front of him in a grid, the same way he did the magazines last time, but the spell is broken when he reaches for his wallet and finds only three dollars inside.

The FBI agents are briefing Dets. Luke and Bitchface on Cunanan's greatest hits (as it were). Bitchface isn't clear on why they assume he's in Miami, versus L.A. or San Diego; Agent Stan non-answers that they working under the assumption that he's headed to the 305. Bitchface justifies her moniker:

But I'm calling her Det. Lori from now on because WTF, FBI. Luke gives her a "fuckin' feds" brow pop, but they try to help, as Lori runs down the local gay hotspots on a city map and offers to give the Fibbies a tour. What she gets in return is some Agent Stansplaining, as he condescendingly tells her that she hasn't read the case file, but Cunanan isn't going to follow a pattern she can predict; he's a "predatory escort," so he'll be targeting older, closeted guys -- who tend to hang in Fort Lauderdale, not Miami. Lori's like, okaaaaay so but don't you want to even canvass South Beach, hand out some flyers? The agents shrug that they only have ten flyers printed right now, and anyway, they "aren't a priority for us." "That's certainly clear," Lori mutters, and starts making black-and-white photocopies her own self. She pins one to the middle of the bulletin board.

Cunanan returns to his room and, despairing of the crappy side-alley view from his window, rehearses his pitch to Desk Clerk to switch rooms to an ocean view. Naturally, it's obnoxiously glib and contains a reference to Cap Ferrat, but the mojo he worked on her earlier sustains itself, and soon he's sauntering out onto his balcony and surveying his domain, Gianni-style. He locks eyes with Ronnie, kibitzing down on the sidewalk…

…then too-casually cruises down to the front lanai and introduces himself as Andy.

Max Greenfield's whatever face here is everything, hee. Ronnie overheard the clerk call "Andy" "Kurt." Cunanan snappishly asks what she calls Ronnie, then. But despite this bitchy beginning, when Cunanan asks if Ronnie knows where to score, Ronnie seems to oblige. They walk down the street, Ronnie sighing that he doesn't "do this kind of work" anymore: "Look at me." Greenfield looks fairly fit here, but thin, and is styled scruffily and moving somewhat listlessly, so the inference we're supposed to draw is apparently the same one Cunanan does, as he launches into a monologue about how he used to work at an AIDS outreach center in San Diego. He denies being sick himself, but he might admit it to Ronnie if he were; Ronnie doesn't tell most people, because they freak out. He came close to dying a few years back, he goes on, but then they "handed [him] these magic pills," and he had his life back…but he didn't know what to do with it, so he came to Miami, to be by the ocean. Cunanan's witty-repartee face has fallen by the time Ronnie asks if he has lost anyone. "Lost my best friend. And the love of my life," Cunanan says, failing to clarify that he killed them, but we'll get to it. "Recently?" Ronnie asks. "This year." "Both of them?" Ronnie presses, likely thinking that in eighty-seven, to lose two of your closest people to the virus would track, but in ninety-seven it's a little more unusual, particularly given that Cunanan says he's not HIV+.

Ronnie doesn't push it, but as Cunanan takes a whore bath at a beachside shower station and brags about knowing Versace -- with a name-droppy reference to an It restaurant in San Fran clearly memorized from a Vanity Fair or similar -- Ronnie makes a series of "…k" faces. There's been some discussion on the forums about Criss's choices here -- that you don't really see the charm the real Cunanan was evidently famous for. But you also don't see the somewhat squashy physical presentation of the real Cunanan, for which the charm was supposed to make up in a world that prized a hyper-toned physique; what you do see is the way the social contract tends to paper over outré or awkwardly meretricious behavior like Cunanan's, which in the larger context of "how was this 'allowed' to happen" is effective.

Anyway, Ronnie does manage not to burst out laughing at the idea that a guy who's one step up from homeless was proposed to by Gianni Versace at any point, as Cunanan claims. Ronnie says Gianni's very popular "out here," very friendly, though Ronnie's not into his clothes. "That's because you don't know him," Cunanan snips. Ronnie's like, well, I can look at the shop windows and form an opinion, but Cunanan isn't having it and takes Ronnie to school on Gianni's invention of Oroton. That is pretty cool, but Cunanan is way too intense about it for get-to-know-you small talk with a guy he just met: "I see the man behind it. A great creator. The man I coulda been." Ronnie cocks a brow: "Been with." That seems to snap Cunanan out of it somewhat, but then he lifts his face to the spray while the piano does a V.C. Andrews kind of a thing, like, we get it.

On the beach, Cunanan locks eyes with an older gent, then gets up, telling Ronnie that he shouldn't worry about money, he'll split "this" with Ronnie fifty-fifty. He emphasizes that he takes care of his friends: "That's always been important to me." Ronnie doesn't know what to say, and I have a couple of suggestions, but Ronnie's Spidey sense probably kiboshed "we just met, Galahad, settle down" as possibly triggering Braggy Carmichael. Cunanan heads over to the gent and completes the pick-up. Ronnie watches speculatively.

Back at the gent's room, Cunanan gets kind of weird about how many times the guy's "done this before -- two, three?" and then asks how many people work for him, "in business." Five thousand worldwide, he's told, and makes this face

but apparently that's the gent's kink, as he breathes that he can be submissive. "You have no idea," Cunanan informs him, and then we're hearing "Easy Lover" as Cunanan straddles the guy and carefully swathes his entire head in duct tape. Once the last airway is covered, he leans in with that Starman look of scientifically curious remove: "You're helpless. Accept it." He dismounts, cranks the music, and fondles various items on the dresser as the gent struggles. "Accept it," he says. "Accept it!" He fan-dances around the room as the taped-up gent gets more and more agitated, and the music seems to get steadily louder; this is shot very effectively, as I also began to get agitated on the guy's behalf.

Cunanan approaches the bed, holding a pair of surgical scissors and regarding the guy with a mixture of curiosity and lust, then hops onto him, whispers, "Last chance," and finally plunges the scissors through the tape over the gent's mouth when the gent follows his direction and submits.

Later, Cunanan tucks into some expensive room-service filet and lobster. At the door, the gent whispers to the waiter to come back in half an hour, "for the trays," then backs away from the door and the end of the bed where Cunanan is perched, stuffing his piehole and making up some story about his mom packing lobster in his school lunches. All the other kids had PB&J, and "there I was with my little sachet of cracked pepper, all wrapped up like a gram of cocaine." Cool story, bro. He polishes off a glass of champagne, locks eyes with the gent, drops the flute on the floor with a clunk, and departs without another word. The gent can't wait to throw the bolt, fish his ring out of the ashtray, and call 9-1-1, but when he's asked what his emergency is, the gent is too weighed down by his wedding band to go through with it and hangs up.

Back from commercial, it's "back to life, back to reality" with the opening strains of the Soul II Soul hit, and wow, I actually missed this song. Like, it was ehhhhhh-verywhere for a while and I never thought I would feel "oh yeah, you!" about it, but I do. Pity about the context, which is July 6, 1997, and we're backstage at a fashion show, where Gianni is complaining that the models Antonio hired "look ill." This seems like an anachronism to me, so if Gianni actually was at the forefront of pulling back from anorexic waifs, hit me in the comments. Certainly Donatella has taken some shelling in the not-at-all-distant past for using runway talent who looked dangerously underweight. And here she is now, cutting past the models standing around outside smoking and into the dressing room, where she asks them to give her the room: "I need to talk to my brother." Maybe take him aside, then? It's…the dressing room and they're working?

Donatella tries to head him off all "you agreed to try them," but Gianni's like, my models should look like they eat, have cocktails, fuck, enjoy life -- "What do these girls enjoy?" "Front covers?" Donatella says pointedly, going on that "everyone" is talking about Galliano and McQueen and what they're doing next. Gianni, standing next to a carefully hung card with Shalom Harlow's name on it,

doesn't want to guess trends. His designs have to come from his heart first. The debate continues, Donatella saying he's gotten too predictable, too "known," blah blah blah. Like they'd really get into this 1) minutes before the walking starts, 2) in English instead of Italian. Point is, Gianni's celebrating the miracle of his return to health, and doesn't want to do the "stark and morbid" runway Donatella prefers. Donatella freshens her contouring and rolls her eyes as Gianni describes the "Versace bride" who is not dainty and pure, but proud to have loved many before choosing the one man for her. She's kind of won over by his enthusiasm by the end, though, only correcting him that it's their show, not his.

Backstage, Donatella peeks out and looks worried as the runway looks -- proceeding down what looks like a ramp placed over Gianni's own pool -- are greeted with polite applause. The applause gathers in strength, and when the bride comes out, the response is what Gianni predicted. Donatella shakes her head and throws him a "yeah, okay" thumbs-up.

Cut to Ronnie procuring drugs for himself and Cunanan. They smoke crack together as a breeze stirs the vertical blinds, and Ronnie gets the high giggles, but Cunanan is broody, and goes into the bathroom to start wrapping his own head in duct tape. Outside the door, Ronnie says he used to be a florist, and he was thinking of starting a little flower pop-up, a two-man operation: "You and me." They get along well enough, no? And anything's better than working that beach, right? "…Andy?"

"I'm gonna take a shower," Cunanan says affectlessly. "Me too, with lye, in a different time zone," Ronnie does not say, going with "Yeah, a-a shower, why not?" He perches worriedly on the end of the bed, smoking and staring at the bathroom door. I would say it's a good thing he can't see the other side,

but if nothing else about Cunanan has moved the needle to Hell No for Ronnie, I doubt a crazy wall would do it either. Cunanan unwraps his head, somehow pulling out zero hair in the process, and stares at himself in the mirror.

When he emerges, apparently not having showered after all, he starts dressing silently. After a moment, Ronnie asks as gently as possible, "Andrew? What'd you do?" "Nothing," he says, still staring at himself, but in the mirror over the chest of drawers this time. "I've done nothing my whole life. And that's the truth." Ronnie looks sad for him and holds up the pipe: "We're out." "I'll get more," Cunanan says, going for "soothing half-smile" and landing on "nauseated volcano."

Gianni is lost in sketching thought in his bedroom as, on the bed, Antonio canoodles with a third guy. He hops out to tell Gianni to join them. Distractedly Gianni says he'll be right there. Antonio strips off his undies and hops back into bed with the guy. Gianni looks at them making out with an expression of contentment, then returns to sketching.

The next day, Gianni finishes a lap and fetches up on Antonio's legs at the end of the pool. Antonio muses that he doesn't "want this" anymore; he wants Gianni, to marry Gianni. Gianni smiles that Antonio says it in the morning: "Can you say it in the evening?" He swims away. Antonio bites his lip and wisely doesn't argue the point.

Cunanan heads into the pawn shop to hock the gold coin. Pawn Star Cathy asks where he got it. He says it's a remarkable story. Good save. I'll spare you the coin-nerd background, but I wonder if a pawnbroker with any experience shouldn't have known based on the coin in question that said story involved a felony; it's a Saint-Gaudens double eagle -- one of those coins that will look familiar even to people who don't know anything about coins, which is basically everyone. The prop here has a "mint mark" that says "COPY," which I also find amusing. …Right, nobody cares, sorry! Anyway, as she's weighing the coin, she checks her most-wanted posters; Cunanan, who's filling out the forms with his real name and address, isn't among them.

He's out walking later when he sees a queen serving Donatella realness rattling the front gates of the estate and begging "Johnny" to let her in. A security guard notes that the real Donatella has a key, and Gianni comes out on the balcony all "enough already, kid" -- "big kiss for you, but I cannot let you in, one is enough." Hee. Cunanan watches the drama unfold, then jogs back to his room; fishes the gun out from under the mattress (ew) and loads it; rips down his crazy wall; and bids Ronnie adieu. "Will I see you again?" Ronnie asks. "I'm sure of it," Cunanan double-meanings, and is peaceing out when Ronnie snarls down the hall after him, "You don't have that money, do you." Cunanan stops, comes back, and counts out the money, holding it up to Ronnie, at which time Scrip Dork McGee over here notes that, at least as far as the fifty is concerned, Props found an old one from before the 1997 printi-- "Buntsy. We agreed that nobody cares." Right, you are so right, sorry again. Ronnie is also chastened, but takes the money, then asks gravely if they were friends. "That was real, right?" But Cunanan is in full infamy-groundwork-laying mode and responds, "When someone asks you if we were friends? You'll say no." He hurries away; Ronnie ruefully watches him go.

Lori's leaving the cop shop and sees that the Cunanan Most Wanted poster is mostly covered over with other flyers already.

The man himself is reading his Condé Nast book in a park across the street from the estate when Gianni and Antonio emerge. When we cut back across the street, Cunanan is gone…

…to get some stakeout grub. The guy at the sandwich shop immediately spots him and skives off into the back to call 9-1-1; the "white guy who killed four white guys" whom he saw on America's Most Wanted is in the shop, ordering a tuna combo. The cops show up shortly thereafter, but Cunanan's gone again.

At Twist, Gianni and Antonio cut the line and head into the club, greeting various friends and other regulars. They settle in at a table to watch a go-go boy with angel wings working it for tips.

Cunanan fetches up back at the estate. He doesn't seem like he's in a hurry or fleeing. He finds the bedroom windows dark, and his eyes darken in turn. He heads into Twist -- with his backpack, which made me want to smack the bouncer upside the head. I forget we didn't always live in this after-the-events-of world. Somewhere, Det. Lori gets a stabbing pain in her ass because Cunanan is right where Agent Stan told her not to bother looking, searching the dance-floor crowd for Gianni while La Bouche's "Be My Lover" blares down. Cunanan checks the bathroom…

…but Gianni and Antonio are already outside, heading home. Gianni hangs back, seemingly to let Antonio pick up, but Antonio frowns and repeats that he doesn't want that anymore; he wants Gianni. They nuzzle. It's a bittersweet moment, knowing what happens, and also knowing that the actors know each other well IRL and wondering what it's like for them in the scene, when of course they also know what happens. Gianni gives him a vaguely sad "if you're sure" look, and off they go.

Inside, Andrew roams the dance floor, deflating, as Lisa Stansfield tells the assembled that "this is the right time / to believe in love." A cutie named Brad locks onto Cunanan and close-dances up to him and asks what he does. "I'm a serial killer," Cunanan chirps. Brad: "Whuh-it?" Cunanan, giggling: "I'm a banker!" He's a stockbroker. He's a cop! He builds movie sets and skyscrapers! Imports pineapples! Brad begins to draw away, concerned, as Cunanan tells Brad, but mostly himself, "I'm the person least likely to be forgotten. …I'm Andrew Cunanan."

[tearinmyheartforjosh]

Hello! Can you do one where the reader is a newer singer who is headlining for some other artist/band so she doesn't get to see her boyfriend, Josh a lot because twenty one pilots is also on tour. But since she is on break for a few weeks, Tyler and her make arrangements for her to surprise Josh. Thanks :)

“He’s moping again,” Tyler tells you, as he continues to eat whatever it was crunching loudly in your ear. “He won’t say it, but I can tell.”

You let out a sigh, and turn onto your stomach, staring at your best friends name scrolling on your phone. “Yeah, I can tell too.”

“Where are you guys right now?” Tyler asks.

You look up and out the windows of the moving tour bus your tiny band had managed to get. You couldn’t really see anything, partly because it was night time and partly because the windows were so tinted. “I think we’re somewhere around Washington. But I can’t be sure. It’s all melting together.”

Seven years ago, you met Tyler through a mutual friend of Jenna’s, and all three of you had become best friends instantly. Five years ago Tyler had introduced you to Josh, and you were pretty sure it was love at first sight and it was only a matter of weeks before you and the drummer began dating. Six months ago your small town band landed the break through you had been waiting for; touring as one of the opening acts for Paramore. And it worked out that both Tyler and Josh were going on tour during the same time, so you figured that you’d both be busy enough that it wouldn’t be a huge deal that you couldn’t see each other for close to a year. And of course you had FaceTimed and talked on the phone as much as you both could. But what you didn’t plan on was realizing how much you missed his presence. How he made you feel like the only person in a room just by smiling at you. How he would kiss you on the cheek any time he had to walk away from you. It was the little things that you didn’t really think of that you missed the most.

“He still doesn’t know, does he?” You ask. About a week ago you had found out that you would be getting a couple weeks off after the show tonight, so you immediately called Tyler and set up a surprise visit.

“Nope,” Tyler replies, mouth full of food. “Everything is set up. Jenna and Mark are going to meet you at the airport and take you to the hotel.”

“Perfect,” you sigh, rolling onto your back, staring up at the roof of the bus. “Do you think he’ll be surprised?”

“Are you kidding?” Tyler almost shouts, as if the answer is obvious. “He’s going to crap his pants, Y/N. Literally.”

“Could have gone my entire life without that visual, Ty,” You stifle a laugh. You talk with Tyler for a few more minutes before saying goodbye so you can get ready for your show. Butterflies swarmed your stomach when you thought about how soon you’d be able to see Josh. You were horrible at keeping surprises in, but you knew his reaction would be worth it.

You were on your plane before Paramore would even be playing. You didn’t even change after the show, just grabbed you bags, called an uber and started your long journey to the other side of the world. You honestly hated flying more than anything, but the need to see Josh was greater. You just popped a couple of sleeping pills and slept through the whole thing.

Jenna’s scream made you partially deaf when she saw you, running up and throwing her arms around you. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen the girl show any emotion but excitement but it’s the exact reason you love her.

“Tyler wishes he could be here,” She tells you after Mark gives you a hug. “But he’s keeping Josh distracted. He’s noticed that you guys haven’t texted.”

“Yeah I tried to come up with a good excuse,” You reply, throwing your carrion over your shoulder before Mark offers to take it from you. “I said that we were driving through an area that has really bad service and then I just texted him saying I just woke up from a nap,” You laugh nervously.

“Are you excited for tonight?” She asks.

“Yeah, more anxious than anything,” You admit. “I just really want to see Josh.” It had been too long since you last felt your boyfriends arms around you, and you were homesick.

“This is going to be awesome!” Jenna squeals in excitement, and you can only smile, wishing time would speed up.

Jenna spends most of the afternoon with you at the hotel, which was spent mostly at the swimming pool, before she heads back to find Tyler. You still hadn’t seen him yet and your anxiety was rising by the hour. The plan was you’d join Tyler on stage for Tear In My Heart and that would be the big reveal. You had packed more than you probably needed to, but you knew you’d be indecisive about your outfit for tonight. It needed to be perfect.

You settled on your favourite black ripped jeans and a tank you bought from hot topic that says “I prefer the drummer” after you and Josh had been dating for a couple months. It was nothing glamorous, but you knew Josh would love it.

After what felt like hours, someone finally came to pick you up. The concert had just started, Heavydirtysoul just ending as you arrive at the venue. You put your stuff in Josh’s dressing room, smelling all of his clothes before you leave to find Jenna. It helps.

Jenna is in her usual spot, beside the stage closest to Tyler. You’re fitted with an in ear so you can hear yourself on the stage, and then it’s just the waiting game. But you didn’t mind this time. You get to watch Josh do his favourite thing in the world. And your heart finally feels full, after the months of not being able to see him in person, you were going to be able to hold him and kiss him in a matter of moments.

“Alright guys,” Tyler soothes the crowd after the last song finishes. “This next song I usually dedicate to my smokin’ hot wife. Can everyone please put your hands together for my beautiful wife, Jenna?” He gestures to her from the stage and everyone goes crazy, causing Jenna to turn light pink. “But,” Tyler continues when the crowd quiets. “As we all know, Josh has been feeling a little lonely this tour. His lady has been touring with Paramore, and hasn’t been able to visit. So I’m going to dedicate this next song to him.” Tyler casts a look over at the drummer, who gives him a sweet smile and you’re practically bursting. You want to run out and kiss his smiley cheeks, but you know it’ll be better to wait. “Jishwa, this is for you my fren.” And Tear In My Heart begins, and that was your cue to get ready.

It doesn’t take long for them to finish the first chorus before Tyler cuts the music. “Hold on a second,” He says into the mic, giving Josh a look. “Just a second.” He casts a quick look over to you and you give him a thumbs up, preparing yourself. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think we need some help. Would you please welcome my good friend, Y/N!!!!”

The screams sound distant in your in ears as you walk on stage, but you have blinders on to Josh who is sitting, eyes wide with shock. You can’t contain your grin, and you give him a quick excited wave before he leaps off his stool and closes the distance between you. You’re trying to hug him as tightly as you can, not caring that he was all sweaty from playing.

“What are you doing here?!” He asks you over the screams, eyes taking in your presence.

“I got some time off, and I wanted to surprise you,” You giggle, happy that everything worked out the way it was supposed to. He doesn’t say anything and just lifts you, spinning around in a circle, the crowd going crazy.

“Isn’t that adorable?” Tyler asks the crowd as Josh smothers your face with kisses, refusing to let you go. He’s so smiley and you can’t help but let a few tears fall. Your heart was so full.

“Hey Josh,” Tyler calls after a few moments. “What do you say to finishing the song?”

Josh picks you up from behind and carries you over to his drum set, sitting you in his lap and giving Tyler a thumbs up before pretending to drum while you’re on his lap. The crowd is going crazy and you yourself can’t help but laugh. You know that you can’t stay on stage for much longer so you turn to kiss Josh, earning whistles from the entire arena before getting up to leave.

“Alright guys, give a big round of applause for Y/N,” Tyler says as you stop to give him a quick hug before heading back to Jenna. “Now that Josh is feeling better, lets get this show going!” And just like you hadn’t interrupted, the show kept going. You can’t help but notice how much more enthusiastic Josh plays and how he keeps stealing glances in your direction.

He doesn’t waste time on stage once they’re done the show, practically running off and into your open arms. “I can’t believe you’re actually here!” He tells you between kisses. “How long are you here for?”

“I’m all yours for two weeks baby,” You grin, wrapping your arms around his waste under his arms and smiling up at your cheeky boy.

“Get a room!” Tyler shouts sarcastically as he drapes an arm over Jenna’s shoulder, lacing his fingers into her.

“I actually already have one,” You counter with a cheeky smile.

“So we’re gonna go there now,” Josh adds without even missing a beat as he starts pulling you towards the exit. “Good show Tyler, talk later!” He shouts, not even looking back as he keeps a tight grip on your hand. You can’t help but laugh at his eagerness, but you’re not going to complain. You had been waiting six months for this moment with Josh, and you’d gladly do it again if it meant you got a life time with him.

[yespoetry]

What ‘Lady Bird’ Got Wrong — And What It Got Right

By Joanna C. Valente

In a movie about growing up, you can expect a lot of pains. You can expect those silent traumas to happen without the main character fully realizing how a seemingly ordinary moment, like a slapdash comment from your mom about weight or losing your virginity to someone who is indifference to you. When you watch any movie about growing up, you know it’s going to be uncomfortable – which Lady Bird was, even while it made you laugh.

The abuse we see in Lady Bird hurts – and it’s dangerous. And what’s most dangerous about it is the fact that it seems so ordinary, so glossed over by the fact that it’s done with the best of intentions – that the abuse is done out of love. This is something we tell ourselves, as humans, everyday: If something is done out of love, it isn’t abuse. That isn’t true.

Lady Bird's mother, Marion, is often the culprit of this kind of “silent” abuse, whether it’s focusing on Lady Bird's bad grades (although you question how bad they could really be if she’s on scholarship), how she walks, what she wears, etc. Really, Marion picks on Ladybird just to pick on her, and takes any opportunity to belittle her.

It’s never necessarily what an outsider could call severe, or even abusive, since it seems like motherly nagging on the surface – but when you truly take a deeper look, especially into the fact that it’s unending, it really is abuse. Lady Bird never gets a break, as Danny pointed out. In many ways, her unhappiness and self-centeredness and need to lie, stem from the fact that she’s often told, even if by implication, that she’s not good enough. And she won’t ever be good enough.

The telling scene is when Lady Bird asks her mother if she likes her, and if maybe, this is the best version of her she can be, and her mother ignores the question, even makes a face. That says it all. That is abuse—and it’s the kind of abuse that teaches girls to ignore their desires, to feel small, to silence themselves.

Another telling moment in the film is when Marion stops talking to Lady Bird because she applied to New York schools (as if that is also a crime). Employing the “silent treatment” on your own kid when they live in your house, even after they plead with you and apologize profusely, is abuse. Considering Marion is a psychiatric nurse with a husband who takes medication for depression, she should also know better. She’s the adult in the situation, whereas Christine is not. Marion desires control, regardless of how it affects others.

This is what the movie does well: It portrays ordinary abuse, the kind of ordinary abuse so many of us have endured that we usually deny it’s abuse at all. Because it’s hard to admit when loved ones belittle us in ways that become part of our psyche. Yes, Christine is thoughtless and selfish (she is a teenager, too), and her treatment of Julie illustrates this, but she is never intentionally cruel.

When she realizes she has ignored Julie for her richer, cooler friend, Lady Bird promptly tries to right it. Lady Bird, despite her flaws, is not full of the kind of pride that prevents you from taking accountability. Her empathy for Danny is indicative of her openness—and her kindness. She could be upset Danny lied to her about being gay, but she also realizes it’s not about her. There’s more going on.

The thing is, many abusers understand what they do is abuse—and know what they are doing as they’re doing it. Marion, for instance, must understand she is mistreating her daughter, especially when she tells Lady Bird her own mother was an “abusive alcoholic,” also implying that anything less extreme must not be abuse, which is a way for her to rationalize her own actions. This rationalization is merely that, though, and not logical or ethical. As Paul Bloom wrote in his recent New Yorker piece on cruelty, “The truth may be harder to accept: that our best and our worst tendencies arise precisely from seeing others as human.” 

Marion isn’t unintentionally dehumanizing Lady Bird when she refuses to use her chosen name (as opposed to her birth name, Christine), she is intentionally doing so – and because she knows this will hurt her. In order to actually hurt someone, you acknowledge their feelings because you can understand them, a kind of reverse empathy. If being cruel meant you actually didn’t view the other person as a human with emotions, you would probably miss the point of cruelty.

The fact that Lady Bird chooses a name for herself clearly proves all of these points: She is trying to find her identity, she is trying to shine like a radiant star in the same way she and Danny named their star Bruce, she is trying not to feel like a failure, she is trying to rise above the abuse and see herself as a survivor, not a silent victim. She merely wants to carve her own identity.

When she chooses not to use Lady Bird at the end, it’s a signal – both for Lady Bird's nostalgia for home (and her mother) and a way to show gratitude for the life her family gave her, but it’s also a strange sign of defeat. When she uses her birth name, we see her after one of the most isolating moments of her life, probably: Waking up alone in a New York City emergency room after having alcohol poisoning within her first month or so in college. That is not exactly a triumphant moment, and is also the result, perhaps, of her trying to cover up her loneliness and isolation, both from her family and her new surroundings.

Wherever she is, she doesn’t seem to “fit in,” and most of the film centers around Lady Bird trying to find her niche. In many ways, she romanticizes New York City, thinking she will find her place there, and in many ways, is disappointed she hasn’t – and perhaps begins to feel homesick for a place she couldn’t wait to get out of. This journey felt real because it was real.

For me, as someone who attended Catholic school for 13 years who often felt not good enough (and also dealing with feelings of queerness), who was the "poor kid" in a rich school, Lady Bird's world echoed mine in a lot of ways. I often found myself in the homes of other students, homes so unlike my own (and many of those students liked to point it out too), and felt out of place. Feeling out of place also means you can become silent, and try to blend in, or you have to find your real, authentic self. I chose the latter, as Lady Bird was also trying to do, but often struggling to (because who doesn't?).  

Finding yourself is not an easy task. It’s not something you can simply do by moving, but by being honest and allowing yourself to fail. When we find Lady Bird at the end, in a bittersweet moment, we find her at the cusp of change, of potentially finding who she is. This is what the film does well – of not necessarily giving us everything we want in a neat bow.

But, in many ways, it’s also the film’s downfall, because we often do get what we want. The film is still portraying ideas of privilege and whiteness, with room for little else. While Lady Bird is definitely not rich, and often mentions how she’s the “poor one” who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, she is still much more privileged than most: She’s white, in a middle class family who is sending her to a private Catholic high school. Beyond that, she’s also conventionally attractive, talented, and smart. While she is struggling like any teenager struggles with sex and identity, her struggle is also not unique. The American Dream (one of whiteness, wealth, desire) is there, but the film is not exactly a commentary on its toxicity either.

And really, the film, in a lot of ways, can be boiled down to this: She’s an attractive middle class white person who gets into college. And whose parents refinance their home to make that happen in a private New York City school, nonetheless. Going to college at all is a privilege, but an expensive one even more so.

And that’s where I felt disappointed. What about kids like Miguel or Julie or even Danny? What about the kids who aren’t privileged in the same way Lady Bird is? Lady Bird does suffer abuse, but her story has also gotten told over and over and over again in other films. Rarely do films focus on characters who are kids of color, kids with disabilities, queer, or even “unattractive” without a makeover at the end.

I left the film feeling disappointed that Julie, for instance, was relegated to a side character role. While this is part of the point of Julie’s character (she is the “nice fat friend” who gets ignored and silenced, whose depression is rarely explored), it’s also fulfilling the same vicious cycle, the same male gaze. Her story is never told—even though it’s a common one, it’s just a common story hardly told. At least, not common when there isn't a makeover at the end. The same goes for Miguel, who is Lady Bird's older brother. The same even goes to Danny. While Danny is incredibly privileged (he lives in one of the fancy houses), he reveals that he’s gay, letting us into the fact that he has a huge struggle of his own (especially at a Catholic school)—a struggle not commonly explored in coming-of-age films.

What would the film look like if the character was transgender or non-binary, having to choose a new name and pronouns—and watching as the people around them chose to react and welcome or not welcome that kind of change. While I loved the idea of Lady Bird choosing her name, especially in a time where choosing names and pronouns is especially relevant, I also felt this was a missed opportunity to explore more.

While the film doesn’t judge the characters, falling away from the easy stereotypes of jocks and popular girls and anarchy-loving boys that many 80s and 90s films do, it also doesn’t dig deep enough. It could choose to highlight more marginalized people in Lady Bird’s small Sacramento community, but it doesn’t. Perhaps that’s not what this film is about, and that’s fine, but I can’t help but wonder, why not?

The film so artfully deals with abuse, depression, classism and homophobia, even if below the surface, I wished it dug even deeper, into the parts of American life that everyone knows to be true, but rarely wants to explore past the picture perfect life with the happy enough ending. Because, let’s face it, the end of the movie is “happy enough” and the struggle all seems to dissipate, as if the abuse can be stifled in a travel bag. Perhaps, of course, that’s what Lady Bird wants to believe, and so we want to believe it too. And that, of course, is the magic of the film.

Even so, we can all go a little farther.  

Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York, and is the author of Sirs & Madams (Aldrich Press, 2014), The Gods Are Dead (Deadly Chaps Press, 2015), Marys of the Sea (The Operating System, 2017), Xenos (Agape Editions, 2016) and the editor of A Shadow Map: An Anthology by Survivors of Sexual Assault (CCM, 2017). Joanna received a MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College, and is also the founder of Yes, Poetry, a managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine and CCM, as well as an instructor at Brooklyn Poets. Some of their writing has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Brooklyn Magazine, Prelude, Apogee, Spork, The Feminist Wire, BUST, and elsewhere. 

[ikonxmx]

No Happy Endings | Wonho [M]

Warnings: Strong language and implications of sex.

word count: 3,718

“Hey, what ya’ reading today?” The librarian asks with a smile.

Part 1: The Thing About Keeping Schedules

All love novels are the same. Boy meets girl or boy knows girl, one of them has a crush on the other or they both have a crush on each other and are too chicken shit to admit it. Some bullshit struggle goes on in their life and they ultimately come to the conclusion that they love one another. Problem is, shit like that doesn’t happen in real life, and it gives hopeless romantics like you a false sense of security. “Everything will work out for the best. It’ll all turn out okay in the end.” BULLSHIT.

Truth is, happy ending only exist in novels and tv for a fucking reason. And anyone who’s ever known or experienced “love” can tell you it’s all fake. They won’t though. They’ll laugh in your face and let you go on believing that everything will be okay when it won’t. Happy endings don’t exist in the real world. You’ll find that out the hard way, though. Prince Charming isn’t real. And neither is love.

As a student, the library is your safe haven, somewhere you can go and be completely to yourself… well as to yourself as you can be with 300 other people walking around. It stays quiet, though. The librarian makes sure of that. She’s actually quite young if you had to guess you’d say early to mid-thirties. Late twenties if you wanted to stretch. She’s nice. One of the only people besides your next door neighbor to hold a conversation with you. Sure it was usually just a “Hey, what ya’ reading today,” followed by a short answer and some awkward eye contact, but it was a lot more than what most people were giving you these days.

Your mom blames it on what she likes to call your O.T.W, “Own Little World.” There, human interaction comes to you as naturally as it does the characters in your books. When it comes to real life, however, you’re stuck. There are no quotation marks to show you where dialogue begins and ends, and absolutely no way to know what’s going on in someone’s head. Real life talking to people sucks. And that’s just one of the many reasons you have filed in your “Why I Don’t Interact Like A Normal Human Being” folder.

You don’t mind for the most part. Sure you felt lonely every now and then but it’s only been so long since you moved out of your parent's house so you chalk it up to homesickness. And like mentioned before, you have a neighbor. She refuses to let you be too anti-social and drops by to check on you twice a week. It’d be weird to call her a friend, but she’s the closest thing you have to one right now so that’s exactly what you’ll call her.

Back to the library. You come every day at the same time. You’re a creature of habit, so you do pretty much everything at the same time every day. Generally. You don’t freak out if you’re 5 minutes behind schedule, but you like to keep everything in the same hour if you can. Up at 7 o’clock, showering at 7:15, breakfast at 7:30, newspaper and comic reading until 8, then you’d head to the library, making it there at around 8:45. On Monday’s and Wednesday’s, you have a 9:30 psych class so you’d study up until then and head to your 11:15 kinesiology course after psych was done. You’d get lunch when kinesiology was through and head directly to your 3:30 English course. By 5 o’clock you were back in the library finishing work for Tuesday and Thursday’s business technology and international relations classes. You’d read a few chapter of a book once you were through and head home at around 10. You more or less did the same thing on those days too.

Anyone looking from the outside would say your schedule is a mess. Your classes don’t really coincide with your major and you have a shit ton of coursework to complete on a regular basis. This was better for you, though. Staying busy kept you focused so you never really worried about little things like… your nonexistent social life! More than that, you took classes that piqued your interest. English is mandatory but psych and kinesiology were both things you’d gotten into because of books.

In “Seeing Past Pasts” the female protagonist was a psychologist studying a schizophrenic 6-year-old boy and his depressed 12-year-old sister. She ends up falling in love with their biological father although he doesn’t have custody of the two kids. The story was sweet and endearing. It made you more curious about psychology than anything else, though.

“Heal to Make Whole” was all about a physical therapist and her hidden relationship with a star athlete who tears his ACL during a game and has to be treated by her. They hate each other by the end of the physical therapy but somehow end up working things out to live happily ever after. It got you thinking, you should know how to take better care of your body. It’s the only one you’ve got and it won’t stay be in great shape unless you keep it in great shape. You’re generally active, though. A 45-minute walk from your apartment to the library every day made sure of that. Walks to and from classes could be counted as well since some of them were pretty far apart. Other than that you were pretty much clueless.

They’re pretty useless classes for an international business major. You enjoy them, though, and that’s all that matters.

“Hey, what ya’ reading today?” The librarian asks with a smile.

“Careful.” You answer and hold up the recently released book. It’s a story about an introverted college student and the guy who tries to break her from her shell.

“Forever the romantic.” The librarian teases.

You laugh and make your way toward your usual table at the back of the library. It’s 6 o'clock at night so it’s not very crowded. In fact, the place is kind of empty. Of course, you don’t mind. Less noise makes for a better reading environment.

You finish your classwork relatively quickly and move on to your book. It’s not as dramatic as most other love novels you read which you can appreciate. The simplistic approach was very risky. Some people love the drama involved in romance novels. You, however, are completely content with reading about the being domestic as fuck for the majority of the book.

You close your book and look down at your phone to see it reads 11 p.m. You look around and see that you’re the only person left and lights had begun to turn off. You sheepishly walk toward the exit. The librarian sees you and perks up.

“Finally finished?” She questions.

“Yeah,” You chuckled. “Sorry for keeping you here so late.”

“It’s no problem. Not like I had anything planned. The only thing waiting for me at home is Chinese takeout.” She smiles.

You laugh and wave your goodbyes.

Walking home late at night is dangerous. A 45-minute walk at 11 at night… now that’s deadly. Maybe you’re a bit of a daredevil? Anyway, you don’t think twice as you set off on foot instead of grabbing a cab. The walk is you time, and you time is necessary. School is stressful! This is the time you use to breathe and enjoy the simple things… like trees and shit.

You've never walked this late before, though. In fact, you'd have been home for about an hour on a regular basis. A two-hour difference can't add that much more danger. For some reason your exceptionally terrified, though. Every leaf crunch and snapping twig sound you’d usually find relaxing send an unpleasant shiver down your spine. Maybe it's because after you do it, you hear another set of feet doing the same. It started about three blocks back, and they've continued through every turn you've made… Maybe it's a coincidence and you're just headed the same way. But you're a reader, and as a result, your imagination runs wild. In your head, this person is following you. For what you're not sure, but you're positive it's nothing good.

You quicken your pace and make a small detour. The feet behind you seem to quicken too. So you make a mad dash. You're not sure where you're going at this point but you don't look back.

The door to some apartment complex opens and a girl rushes out. You don't think twice as you run into the open door only to crash into a hardened chest.

“Are you okay?” The stranger asks as he put his arms on your shoulders to steady you.

You nod slightly embarrassed and try to catch your breath.

“Are you sure? You seem a little out of breath.” He notes.

You look up at the stranger finally… the shirtless stranger. He's got blonde hair, and his kind worried eyes are looking directly at you.

“I was just…” you start but your mouth goes dry. He's gorgeous. You're not sure you've ever seen a more perfect human being.

“Just… what?”

You shake your head slightly trying to pull yourself together… What were you doing? Why are you in this stranger's arms instead of walking home? That's right, the stalker!

“Ahh.” You say snapping your fingers. The stranger looks at you confused and so you explain. “I heard footsteps. I thought someone was following me, so I ran.”

He nods and lets go of one of your shoulders to look from the glass walls into the street.

“I don't see anyone… you should be safe. I'll call you a cab just to be sure, though.” He says and pats your shoulders again.

You nod, still dazed by his attractiveness. It's not fair for one person to be so good looking.

“Shit” Hoseok cursed as he came back into his living room to see the girl he'd just finished sleeping with and one of his favorite t-shirts gone. He doesn't think twice as he rushes at the door after her. She couldn't have gone that far. It took him five minutes to pee and put back on his jeans. She was obviously quicker, though. He took the stairs, sure the elevator would take too long and ran toward the street entrance of the apartment building. He watches as she runs down the last flight of stairs and out of the door, and he quick on her trails. However, he wasn't paying attention and ran straight into a woman. He gripped her shoulders to steady her as she almost fell.  

  “Are you okay?” He asked quickly looking out if the glass complex and watching the woman disappear from view before turning his attention back to the one in front of him. The woman nodded slightly and kept her head down. That's when Hoseok noticed her breathing. It's what he sounds like after running for 30 minutes straight on a treadmill. “Are you sure? You seem a little out of breath.” He notes.

She finally looks into his eyes, her lips parting slightly in what seems like awe. Hoseok is touched but still worried. Had she hit her head against his chest that hard? He has a pretty solid chest. Maybe he should check for a concussion? He searches her eyes worriedly.

“I was just…” She started but stopped suddenly, and instead opted to stare at Hoseok more.

“Just… what?”

she shakes her head slightly but still stays silent as if she's lost her train of thought.

“Ahh.” She says snapping her fingers as if she's just had a Eureka moment. Hoseok looks at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation.“I heard footsteps. I thought someone was following me, so I ran.”

He nods and lets go of one of her shoulders to check the streets.

“I don't see anyone… you should be safe. I'll call you a cab just to be sure, though.” He says and pats her shoulders again.

He takes her hand and leads her outside. Flagging down a taxi is relatively easy. After making sure she's situated inside he heads over to the driver and hands him a few bills from his back pocket.

“Make sure she's safe.” He tells the driver and looks back at you to smile.

The smile you return is a bit awkward and you're dropping your head to break eye contact seconds later. Hoseok chuckles and backs away from the cab waving it goodbye.

He checks the street again for any sign of the girl he’d been with before heading back in. She's be long gone by now. What could she really do with a shirt anyway? He lets it go and shivers. He shouldn't have gone outside without a shirt on.

“Wake up.” A voice calls to Hoseok in his sleep. He grumbles a bit and turns away from the voice. 5 days have passed since the incident and he's still mourning the loss of his favorite shirt.

“Up,” the same voice calls again, this time right next to his ear. Hoseok scrunched his face and swats at the nuisance.

“Hey dumbass! Wake the fuck up.” A voice Hoseok recognizes as Kihyun calls. Seconds later he's being doused in very cold water.

Hoseok sputters awake and makes eye contact with a very amused Kihyun. Although he's still half asleep and his eyes haven't adjusted very well, Hoseok can see the smugness written all over Kihyun’s face.

“What the hell was that for?!” He questions angrily.

“You're in big trouble.” Minhyuk answers from beside him.

“Big trouble, how?”

“A dating scandal?! A freaking dating scandal?! Out of everything you could've done to get yourself into some shit… this takes the cake.” Hyungwon says as he paces the floor.

“I already said it's not true!” Hoseok defends himself.

“Then why the hell were you shirtless and hugging the girl? Why were you holding her hand, hmmm?” Hyungwon asks.

“Well, that's…” Hoseok says and scratches his head. If he told them he'd ran into the girl after chasing one of his conquests, they'd only give him more shit. Only one way out of this. “Hey, don't speak informally to me! I'm still your hyung!”

“He was sleeping with someone.” Changkyun sighs and shakes his head.

“No!” Hoseok yells. The boys look at him in disbelief. He sighs, “Okay, so I was.” They all groan and throw their hands up in defeat. “But no one knows that! They all think I'm dating this girl! We’ll just have her clear up the misunderstanding.”

“That'll only have people asking why you were really outside,” Kihyun says as he rubs his temples.

“A dating scandal is bad but having people find out you sleep with anything that walks is much worse,” Hyunwoo says.

“Hey!” Hoseok pouts. He doesn't sleep with anything that moves. Just the things with nice legs.

“You've got to date the girl,” Kihyun suggests.

“What? No! I don't want to date her!” Hoseok protests.

“Too bad! You should've thought about that before allowing pictures of you holding her hand to get taken.” Hyungwon yells.

“I don't even know her name! Or how to get in contact with her!” Hoseok says. He's a bit relieved that he doesn't know. He's not ready for a relationship. Let alone a public one.

“You'd better find out how.” Hyunwoo says glaring at the younger boy.

Hoseok drops his head. Once Hyunwoo gives a command it's pretty much law. Everyone should follow it. He sighs and searches the internet hoping someone has found anything on the woman.

To his luck, they've found a lot. Candid pictures of her have flooded the internet, “Wonho’s Secret Girlfriend” making up a majority of the titles.

He goes to the comments in hopes of seeing anything about your personal life. The top comment, like by more than 3,000 people reads:

“Wow! I didn't know she was dating an idol! She's a student at my university PLMU! We share a Psych class. She's nice but extremely quiet, and from what I've heard she spends most of her time in the library.”

Bingo.

“You're looking for?” The librarian asks Hoseok as she gives him a once over.

He nervously grips the bouquet of flowers in his hand tighter and swallows before reciting the name he'd found on the Internet.

“Who are you to her?”

“Ummm…” Hoseok starts, not really sure how to answer. “Her boyfriend?” He says but it comes out as more of a question.

The librarian’s eyes turn into slits as she glares at him disbelievingly. “Shouldn't her boyfriend know her class schedule?”

“She never told me… just that she's usually here.” Hoseok chuckles and gives his best smile trying to win over the woman

“I don't believe you.” She says bluntly making Hoseok’s smile drop. “And without a student ID, you'll have to wait outside the library.”

He silently curses the librarian before exiting. Knowing your schedule would've been a big help. He barely found your name, though, so he's thankful for what he can get. Hoseok stands for the majority of his waiting but after an hour he realizes you probably won't be back anytime soon and cops a squat.

Your international relations class ticked by. And people seemed to be staring at you for the majority of it. You'd seen the article so you knew why they were staring, but at the same time, it baffled you. Was the concept of a rumor foreign to them? The pictures were taken completely out of context and had you known he was an idol, you would've never spoken to him. Sure, forbidden love sounds interesting when you're reading about it, but to you, being in a secret relationship sounded as appealing as watching a 90-year-old man peel oranges with his bare hands for 6 hours.

Not to say that just talking to him would've instantly lead to a relationship… but you had thought about what dating the kind stranger would be like. Once the article had been released you'd berated yourself for entertaining the thought.

Your teacher finally dismisses the class. You're the first one from the door. Next stop: the library. A peaceful place where you could emerge yourself in a good book and avoid the gazes of curious onlookers. But as you come to the entrance you see it a bit crowded. Girls are gathered around trying to get a glimpse at whatever. Curiosity gets the better of you and you decide to take a peek as well. What you see makes your eyes turn into saucers. The stranger from Thursday night, or as you’d recently found out, Wonho of Monsta X.

He's smiling and happily interacting with his fans. The two of you make eye contact and his smile turns brighter. You find yourself smiling back. He rushes through the crowd of girls and comes to your side. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and ushers you into the library.

“How was class? You paid attention well right?” He asks loud enough for the people around you to hear. He quiets down once he's out of earshot.

“What ya’ reading today?” The librarian questions as you come into view. She looks at the arm draped around your shoulder and scowls at Wonho. He tauntingly sticks out his tongue.

“Something tells me I won't be reading today.” You sigh.

“Hold my hand as you speak, keep direct eye contact, and smile. Even when you're saying something mean. Just keep smiling” Hoseok whispers as he pulls out your chair and sits in the one opposite of you.

You don't say anything as he takes your hand in his and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “What the hell are you doing?” You ask with a forced smile.

“Play along.” He smiles back. “I confirmed our relationship this morning.”

“We aren't in a relationship.” You hiss the fake smile still plastered on your face.

“We are now. I can't have people knowing the real reason I was out.”

“And you couldn't have thought of literally any excuse? Seeing off a friend. Asking for help from maintenance. Hell, you could've said you were checking your mail.”

He goes quiet. The mail excuse was good and decently believable. Why couldn't he have thought of that? Why couldn't his members have thought of that?

“What's done is done know.” He says leaning toward you. “Dating me isn't so bad, right?”

He's cute but you refuse to acknowledge it at this point. You're furious. Why do you have to be dragged into his lie?

“6 months. That's all I need. Then we’ll break up and when people ask what happened I can say going public affected your private life negatively.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, please? I'll make it worth your while.” He says with a sly eyebrow wiggle.

“There is absolutely nothing you can say that will make me keep up with this charade for 6 months.”

Wonho’s smile brightens. “I'll pay you $10,000”

“Except for that.” You say smiling once again. “Wonho, right?”

He chuckles, “It’d be a bit weird for my girlfriend to call me by my stage name right? Hoseok. Shin Hoseok.”

You nod, “My name is-”

"I know your name." He smiles, "I'm gonna need to know your class schedule, though."

Part. 1 FIN

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I think I’ll have a lot of fun writing this series so I hope you’ll support it. Feedback is always appreciated so please stop into the inbox and let me know how you’re feeling about it so far.

-AJ

[excitable-nugget]

About Me

Tagged by three people, so I’ll name them as we go! Thank you all for the tags, answers are under the read more!

Rules: 

1. Post the rules  2. Answer the questions given to you by the tagger  3. Write 11 questions of your own  4. And tag 11 people

So without further ado...

First up, questions from @star-tear​! (Thank you for the tag, love ya!)

1. Favorite season and why?

Autumn, definitely! It has temperate weather like spring, but leaning towards the cooler side and with less allergens in the air. 

2. If you could tell your past self one thing you know right, what would it be?

“You’re not special, he’s just nice to everyone!” or “Did you know that a mantis shrimp can punch so hard it creates light?”

3. Favorite lotion brand? 

Does pawpaw ointment count as lotion?

4. Favorite quote from a book?

“ You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

- A.A. Milne, from one of the Pooh Bear books

Honourable mention to Wheel of Time:

“Advice! Nobody tells us how to be men. We just are.” “That,” Egwene said, “is probably why you make such a bad job of it.”

5. If you were given the opportunity to choose between having unlimited power or the ability to foresee into the future, which would you choose?

What sort of power? Like, spirit-ball power? Raw muscular strength? I’d find a way to hurt myself either way, so I’d say peeking into the future.

6. Favorite Disney movie?

WALL-E. Pixar is Disney, it counts. 

7. One thing you wish you could tell someone from your past?

“I’m still thinking about that cheesecake.”

8. One place in the world you want to visit?

The USA, particularly LA! I want to visit many places, but this one has so many fantastic people and I’m kinda homesick.

9. Does dessert go before or after the meal?

Why not both? After.

10. Favorite sea animal?

Urchins Honestly, I love so many sea creatures. I’d have to say a cuttlefish, though!

11. If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be?

Hm... there was a big kerfuffle for me in 2012, so I guess I wouldn’t have done the thing that caused that? 

Next up, questions from @myboynagito! (Thank you and much love, Baguette!)

1. First anime character you would have died for?

*long sigh*

This guy. Lelouch vi Britannia. Time to bury myself again.

2. Your favorite trope for a character. What are the characteristic that would make you like them no matter what?

Incongruity between appearance and personality. I adore happy-go-lucky characters that are surprisingly knowledgeable/ready to cut someone, and characters that are frightening to look at but actually really sweet. 

3. A book that made you cry?

Wheel of Time. The last book kicked me in the gut. I was okay up until a certain part with a certain girl and then I was a mess for the rest of the battle. Which was half the book. I cried because I was happy. I cried because I was sad. I cried because I was stressed. I cried because no goddammit he should be dead kill him let him die he’s the worst chara- 

4. Do you think you’d be able to murder someone?

Maybe. It really depends. I know a lot of ways how, and physically I’m pretty sure I could, but I’m too rational and empathetic for my own good.

5. Your favorite character right now from any work and why?

hhhhHHHHhhh Lance, from Voltron.

6. Someone you’d like to see in real life?

Waifu, Baguette, Alice and Liz! I know the question says someone but you’re all too important.

7. Music or silence?

Music.

8. If you could learn any language, what would it be?

French, probably!

9. If you could bring back to life any character from any book/movie/tv show, who would it be?

In an effort to avoid spoilers: Tadashi from Big Hero 6 because HE DIDN’T DESERVE THAT, DANGIT.

10. You can make your otp happen, but one member will die in the next 10 chapters by pushing a big red button. Do you push it?

*slams the soukoku button* Die Dazai

And last but certainly not least, @leio13! (Thank you, Rika, I’m so happy! ❤)

1. What show are you embarrassed to admit you once liked (or still do like)?

... *mumbles* My Little Pony.

2. Who was the first character you really, really hated?

Light Yagami. The first character I can remember hating with every shred of my being, and from the first anime I watched, as well!

3. What is your favorite food, and do you know how to make it?

Chicken Schnitzel! I can cook it, but I’ve never tried making it from scratch.

4. Someone cuts in front of the line you are on to buy limited items. How do you react?

5. What if that someone was your fictional crush/favorite character?

6. What do you think of the name Pubert?

My first thought was of a Veggietales episode where one of the characters says “Who’s going to name their kid Cubert?” and I think that applies nicely here. Not a good name.

7. If you could invent an ice cream flavor for Ben & Jerry’s, what would it be? (I want names too)

It’d taste like fried chicken. I would call it 

8. What is the worst name you have ever named anything? (stuffed animals, real animals, your child, etc.)

When I was little, I named a toy giraffe “Giraffe-y” and a fish “Bubbles”. I have not grown out of it - my main character is named Dasher. That is a terrible name but it refuses to go away. Save him. Save me. Please help.

9. What are you avoiding with a 50 ft pole?

My responsibilities. 

10. If the sky was red, how would you explain it to children?

“Well, that’s certainly something! How about we stay inside for a bit?” 

11. Do you know Oyashiro-sama?

Who? 

And that’s it! It took forever to write, my word, it’s been two hours! If you have any other random questions feel free to drop an ask by - within reason, of course. 

I’m not going to follow the rules because I’m boring as hell and can’t think of an questions! Have a good day y’all!

[rxbxlcaptain]

Hiraeth (Acts of Intimacy #4)

Author’s Note:  And the Nonsexual Acts of Intimacy Prompts continue!  Today's prompt, given to me by another lovely anon:  For the intimacy meme: reacting to the other crying, please :)

How could I say no to that please? I’m just kidding, I can’t say no to any of you. 

This is slightly AU in the fact that Jyn grabbed her father's holograph before escaping Jedha (Probably because I was yelling loud enough for her to hear me)

Other stories in the series: Previous Work // Next Work

Words: 2015 

AO3 / FF.net / Below the Cut!

Hiraeth (n.) – A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

 The Death Star is gone and the Rebellion is celebrating.

Jyn should be with them.

She was with them, in fact, up until the loud noises of celebratory cheers and the smell of cheap booze being passed from rebel to rebel became too much. The overwhelming presence suffocated her, pushing in on all sides until claustrophobia set in.

So Jyn did what she does best: she ran and hid.

Of course, she’s hiding in the room assigned to her by the Rebellion, close enough to the celebrations that she can hear music and dancing, so if anyone put half an effort into finding her, they could. So far, no one has. Jyn isn’t sure if she’s thankful for the space or beginning to feel isolated.

It doesn’t matter, because, in all honesty, there’s one person she truly wants to be with right now, but the only way to see him is through a hologram. The one Jyn currently has gripped between her fingers.

By a stroke of luck, some underlying section of her distraught brain had realized to grab the hologram as Cassian pulled her away from the soon-to-be ruins of Jedha City. Not for the tactical advantage — though being able to show Draven and the Council members the original message turned out to be useful — but to keep her father’s face, her father’s voice. The only piece of her father she has left.

The first time Jyn watched the message Saw stood right behind her; the second time, the message played for the whole Rebellion. Now, only Jyn greets her father’s glowing blue image. Only she hears the message addressed to his Stardust.

As it should be. The message is deeply personal, draws on emotions Jyn hasn’t allowed herself to feel since her mother died fifteen years ago. They’re emotions Saw discouraged, seeing them as nothing more than a tactical disadvantage; they’re emotions the Alliance doesn’t need to know she has, since they would be nothing more than a chip in her durasteel exterior, a weapon they can use against her.

All alone in the room that’s barely larger than a closet, by herself for the first time in Force knows how long, Jyn feels them. She allows them to wash over her, bathing her soul and flowing out of her eyes. Her sobs are silent, tears merely escaping her eyes of their own accord, stealthy and inconspicuous. Ever since hiding in her hatch on Lah’mu, it’s the only way Jyn has known how to cry.

After Saw abandoned her, Jyn can count on one hand the times she’s cried. Once was that first day, that sickening, smothering feeling of abandonment the sixteen-year-old had felt too many times. The second when her credits were low but her aggressiveness was high, ending with a dislocated shoulder she needed to set herself. Again when she became so desperate for food that she began exchanging nights in her bed for credits.

And now.

Now with her father looking down at her, filling the fifteen-year gap between them, bridging the space between the living and the dead. Father and daughter, reunited in the small, dark room of Alliance Base One.

A soft knock at the door punctuates her father’s words about the Death Star, and Jyn steadfastly ignores it. The triumphant rebel can leave her alone; she refuses to admit another weakness, the one spelled out in tear tracks across her cheeks, to the Alliance.

But the knock only rests for a few seconds before repeating. Words crawl under her door, their owner obviously hopeful they’ll have more success than the knocks.

“Jyn?” It’s Cassian’s voice. “I know you’re in there.”

She doesn’t respond. Her father’s message flickers for a second – almost, Jyn thinks with a half hysterical laugh, like Galen wants her to put him behind her and instead focus on the future, focus on Cassian.

But Galen Erso is dead – doesn’t have an opinion about what Jyn should do with her life – and his message replays, just like the machine is programed to do.

Cassian remains silent on the other side of her door, allowing the stillness of the room to be filled with her father again, until Jyn thinks he’s given up, gone away. Just like everyone else.

But, no, there’s another knock. “Jyn, let me in. Please.” His accent is rough on the last word, in a way she hasn’t heard since the flight to Eadu, when the prospect of assassination sat roughly on his chest. She waits.

“I’m not leaving, Jyn.”

She knows he won’t. Even if he willingly joined her on a rogue mission to Scarif, Cassian remains, at his core, a spy. And no spy lasts without an unending source of patience.

With a huff, Jyn stands. She hits the button that will open her door and returns to her spot on the floor without acknowledging Cassian at all.

“Thank you,” he says, softly now that his voice isn’t muffled by the door.

She hears him enter, the whoosh of the door closing behind him, but refuses to turn and face him. Briefly, she wonders what he sees when he looks about the room. The hologram, coming from a projector sitting atop a small, standard issue desk, provides the room’s only light. It’s more than sufficient to light up the tear tracks snaking down her face or to give her red-rimmed eyes a purple hue.

She silently begs him to comment on the former – both the projector and the data stick the hologram is saved on were stolen from Draven’s office after she was discharged from medbay – rather than the latter.

Cassian does neither. Instead, he sits down next to her, completely silent, his eyes, like hers, trained on Galen Erso’s glowing form.

They sit, only a few inches away, as message repeats again. At this point – how many times had this message just played? – the words are losing meaning to Jyn’s overwhelmed brain. The voice, so comforting an hour ago, loses its emotional draw, fading into white noise in the background. The sounds of the Rebellion’s celebration drift back under the door as Jyn sighs, leaning back against the wall.

For the first time since he entered the room, Jyn chances a glance at Cassian. Feeling her eyes on him, he turns his head to hers, meeting her gaze steadily. She watches as he maps her drying tears with his eyes.

“He would be proud of you, Jyn,” Cassian repeats his words from the beach with confidence.

“You can’t know that,” Jyn retorts, desperate to lash the pain in her chest out at someone else.

“Why?” His voice doesn’t rise to the bait, remaining even and calm in the face of her anger.

“Because I don’t know that. I didn’t know him.”

And that’s the first time Jyn admits, either out loud or to herself, what’s really truly been bothering her.

The thing that hits even harder than Galen’s death – because she had, for most of her life, imagined him dead, that he had died right along with her mother – is the idea that the man in this hologram isn’t the Papa she loved as a child. Her memories of her father are clouded by childhood innocence and ignorance. She remembers him picking her up, spinning her around, both in their apartment in Coruscant and on the fields of their farm in Lah’mu; she also remembers late night fights between her parents while she pretended to sleep. The man in the hologram spent a decade and a half entrenched in the hierarchy of Imperial life; who’s to say he’s anything like the man she remembers?

What kind of man was Galen Erso? If she had known him, if he had raised her, would she love him?

Jyn would never know.

“I’m being ridiculous,” she scoffed, more to herself than to Cassian. “I’m mourning an idea, not a person.”

Cassian stays silent for a moment, his eyes searching her face as it hardens into defiance. “Jyn,” he begins, his voice full of more understanding than she’s heard before, “Feeling the pain helps it to heal. Hiding behind anger won’t work very long.”

Jyn snorts. “I’m sure that’s advice you follow frequently.”

Cassian shrugs and lets out a small puff of air. It could almost be a laugh, if it wasn’t Cassian, if the situation wasn’t so serious. “I wouldn’t suggest following my habits of dealing with grief.”

They fall into silence again. Cassian appears casual, leaning against her wall, one leg bent to his chest and the other stretched out, but Jyn knows he’s waiting, observing. Keeping an eye on her.

The oddity of having someone watching out for her, having someone care, rushes over her. Is she grateful? Is she uncomfortable?

Vulnerable, Jyn finally decides on. What Jyn’s feeling is vulnerability. She feels peeled back, peeled open by both his words and his actions, so much so that when her father’s voice – the message repeating again – addresses her directly – Jyn, my Stardust – tears prickle her eyes again. Her attempts to stop them falling are halfhearted at best and soon the dried tear stains on her face have been recoated.

Out of her peripheral vision, she sees Cassian’s arm inch away from his side toward her shoulders. He moves like one would approach a wild animal, expecting her to bite or hiss at him.

Honestly, she can’t blame him.

Certain she’ll regret the move later, Jyn folds herself into Cassian’s chest, her face pressed into his shoulder. Hot tears still flow down her face, now soaking the collar of his shirt. He shifts away and for a second Jyn panics, sure she’s crossed a line. The room grows dark and silent around her before Cassian settled back into her embrace, his arms tight around her shoulders, his chin resting on the top of her head. He moved to turn off the hologram, not to get away from her, she realizes with a start.

How long they sit in the dark, Jyn doesn’t know, but Cassian never complains. She takes comfort in the loud, steady beat of his heart under her ear, times the speed of her breathing to the rise and fall of his chest.

Noises of the rebel’s celebration, sometimes growing louder as a drunk soldier wanders down the corridor back to their room, slip in, telling Jyn that time passes, that the world hasn’t stopped around her and Cassian.

Long after her tears dry, Cassian continues to rub circles onto her back, and she continues to cling to him. He presses his lips to her forehead, not quite a kiss, before breaking their silence. “I’m going to turn on a light, okay?”

She nods, releasing her hold on his back to let him up. When he returns, she expects him to stay a few inches away, like he did when he first came in the room, but, instead, he pulls her close, his arm back around her shoulder. His throat moves briefly, like he intends to say something, but stays quiet in the end.

“Maybe we should join the others,” Jyn murmurs into his chest after a few more moments.

Cassian nods. “Bodhi will be looking for us.”

“I just need a minute to freshen up,” Jyn says, picturing the horrific state her eye makeup must be in. Walking into the Rebellion’s biggest party of the year with red eyes doesn’t sound like a good idea to her.

“I’ll meet you out there then. Save you a drink.”

“I’ll be amazed if there’s any alcohol left on this planet,” Jyn huffs, getting to her feet.

“Jyn?” Cassian stops her, reaching his hand to her face and rubbing his thumb along her cheek bone. His voice drops several levels, his words only for her. “I do know. Your father would be proud of you.”

With that, he smiled, his eyes soft and crinkling around the edges, and Jyn, the fight drained out of her, can’t help but return it.

Just maybe, she’ll admit – silently, only to herself – that there are two people she wanted to be with tonight.

[creativeashproductions]

Travelin’ Soldier

Summary: Reader is currently deployed in the army to an undisclosed combat area. She has been deployed for nearly two years. Anxiously awaiting her return is her husband and brother as they film for Supernatural. Letter comes informing the family that she may not be heard from for awhile and soon devastating news comes.

Characters: husband!Jensen x Reader, Jared x Reader (Twins), Gen, Shepherd and Thomas.

Words: 1849

Disclaimer: I do not own the title of the song Travelin’ Soldier by the Dixie Chicks at all. I simply thought it could be a little fighting. Not hate towards Danneel either, as this is simply fiction and not real.

Warnings: possible swearing, angst and war.

Author: Caitsy

A/N: This simply came to me. I may write a part two but if you want one let us know. Enjoy!

It was that time again when the homesickness took over her completely, it would nearly shatter her when it with such unforgiving power. The heat was getting to her, her eyes felt like sand would always be inside her sockets. She could literally taste the sand whenever she remotely smiled at her fellow comrades when the pitch of darkness didn’t swallow them whole. Her hands were cracked but the special ointment was used scarcely for when it was truly needed.

She was staring at the blank paper in front of her waiting for the pen in her hand to move. She didn’t know how she could manage to even write the first bit. Y/N felt that if she procrastinated writing the letter then maybe time would stop and she wouldn’t have to imagine the gut wrenching expressions that would come on her families faces.

The Sergeant had graciously allowed each of his soldiers to write a letter to their loved ones informing of the lack of communication soon. They were going to be radio silent to keep their position silent as they came close to their enemies. The war had brought Y/N to the sandy desert on a different continent than her home. Slowly allowing one tear to fall, she began writing.

Hey, buds:

I know must be a special occasion to hear from me more than once this month! I want you to know that I received the pictures of the boys. They’ve grown so much since I last saw them, I can’t wait to hug Shep and Tom. They’ll be the first ones I promise. I don’t have time to write you each individual letters given the reason why I’m writing right now. So I’ll split the paragraphs and keep it short.

Tom and Shep. I hope you’re doing well and behaving! I heard that Tom’s been telling his friends who his hero is. I will admit I cried when you wrote about it bud. You’ll never know so special it feels when you’re nephew announces that his Aunt is his hero. Shep, I know you probably don’t entirely remember given how long I’ve been gone on this tour. When I last saw you in person you were going just beginning to walk! I expect to see you running when you see me next. I’m holding you to it. I love you boys.

Jared, how’s my twin doing lately? I heard about the new season from Jensen and Gen. Damn, you’ve carved out a really nice career. I’m doing okay, still have all my limbs in place if you were wondering. Oh! A new soldier arrived a while back and you wouldn’t believe his name! Samuel Campbell. It blew my mind at how quick my mind went to your character on Supernatural. What are the odds huh? Anyway I hope Gen is okay. I really miss you guys. You wouldn’t believe how much and I’m coming home. I don’t know when but I will come home I promise. See you soon.

Gen! Congratulations on the pregnancy! I’m so excited for you and Jared. The ultrasound was sweet and I loved it. The one thing that got me the most was the picture you sent of the boys kissing you’re belly on each side. The message on the front was beautiful, ‘Aunt Y/N I can’t wait to meet you!’. God I wish I was there so much to help you get everything ready when Jared is filming. To help with the boys. I’m coming home as soon as I can.

Jensen, how. It’s been a rollercoaster the last five years with you. I hope you can forgive me for not being there on Valentine’s Day, your birthday, and my birthday. It killed me when I was informed my time was extended. Nearly two years have passed since I last saw you. I love you so much. You will never know how much and I’m so honoured to have met you, and married you. I’m making a promise to you. The minute I get home, we’re going to begin that family we’ve talked about for years. I miss you.

God the ending of this letter has come. I hate the ending of letters because it means ‘I have work to do’, don’t hate me for the reference haha. Anyway I began the letter talking about a special occasion and it’s probably made you sad and curious. My unit is being moved to an undisclosed area closer to enemy lines. I’ll admit the danger is definitely a lot higher given that after this letter I won’t receive anymore nor will I make anymore until we get back. Don’t worry. The unit’s done this before, which I was just given the go to tell you, and it’s second nature almost. I love you guys and I’ll see you soon.

Much love,

You’re aunt, sister, wife.

Y/N.

                                                  〰️〰️〰️

The day was nice out, the boys were running around in the backyard while Gen, showing now, stood in the kitchen finishing lunch. There was soft music playing in the background as she would glance out the window to see Shep and Tom on the jungle gym they had. Jared and Jensen were finishing filming, it was the last day for this year, and were due back soon. Today was more of a celebratory brunch.

“Tag! You’re it!” Shep screamed racing away from his older brother.

Gen smiled remembering the time when Tom had coerced Y/N into playing tag a couple weeks before she was deployed. She could remember as Y/N and Jared swore up a storm putting the jungle gym together one hot summer day.

“Son of a bitch!” Y/N screamed waving her hand around.

“You alright?” Jared laughed watching the pain on his twin sister’s face dissipate.

“Fine. Jesus thank god we’re done with this.” Y/N stated stepping back from their masterpiece.

“Give a year or two and we’ll be putting one up in your backyard.” Jared teased. He quickly frowned at how tense Y/N went at his words and how the atmosphere grew uncomfortable, “Are you okay?”

“Jensen and I talked about kids.” Y/N muttered staring at nothing in particular, “It blew into a fight a couple days ago. We’ve been avoided each other, he’s been staying with his sister the last couple of days.”

“That’s why he isn’t here.” Jared hummed, “What happened.”

“We fought about me being deployed. He was pretty upset and so am I. We said some nasty things, he brought up wanting a family and I shot it down. I want kids. I do, but I don’t want them to wonder when their mom is coming home. I see how torn Tom is and he’s not that old nor is he my kid!”

“I’m so sorry.” Jared said pulling her into his arms.

“He said he didn’t know if he could see a life without the possibility of kids.” Y/N sobbed brokenly, “Next thing I know he’s screaming that maybe kids would a horrible idea with my job.”

“He didn’t mean it. You’ll work it out.”

“Jared. I got the date I’m leaving.” Y/N whispered with tears welling up again, “I leave on Monday.”

“What?” Jared’s voice broke, “Does he know?”

“No. He won’t answer the phone. I got a text early this morning telling me that his phone would be off and he needed a couple days.” Y/N replied, “I leave in two days and my husband refused to talk to me.”

“Excuse me.” Jared’s voice broke striding into the house leaving Y/N on the ground broken.

Gen vividly remembered Jared’s voice telling his brother-in-law that Y/N was hurt badly. It didn’t take even half an hour before Jensen was in the backyard sobbing when he found out how long he had with his wife. She had never seen someone regret something that much.

She heard the knock on the door so she called out for a moment before waving the boys inside. Once Shep and Tom were in the living room with colouring books she walked to the front door, she had expected Jared is he had forgot his key. Her smile dropped at the two men in uniform.

“Mrs. Padalecki, we’ve been forwarded information to give to you. It was brought to our attention that you’re husband and Mr. Ackles work specifically during these months. We were informed that if something happened to Y/N during these months we were to come straight to you.” One of the men said handing over a letter.

“Mommy? Who’s at the door?” Gen’s youngest son asked. Gen cleared her throat looking back.

“Honey, go colour with Shep okay?” She smiled watching in thanks as Shep shrugged and walked back to the living room, “Come on it.”

The men followed her towards the kitchen watching as the pregnant woman shakily made herself some tea. They both shook their heads at her offer of refreshments.

“Gen?” Jared’s confused voice called. Jensen and him had walked up to the house seeing the nondescript car parked outside, “Is something wrong?”

Jared and Jensen stopped in the doorway seeing a barely holding it together pregnant woman and two uniformed men standing awkwardly at the counter. Jared and Jensen’s faces dropped at the letter clutched between Gen’s fingers.

“Mr Ackles. Mr Padalecki.” The taller of the two men said solemnly, “Now that you’ve joined we would like to offer our condolences at this time.”

Shep and Tom peeked around the corner watching the adults interact with each other, their mom and dad collapsed into each other while their Uncle Jensen fell to the ground. The boys were confused but watched as the two men walked to the front door smiling at the young boys.

“She co-could still be alive right?” Jensen’s voice cracked.

It had been a long time since Y/N’s last letter and they had been itching to hear from her again, it was shock to learn that Y/N was now considered MIA. Her unit had come back severely injured with one Y/N Ackles missing. In the weeks following the discovery the army had been tirelessly looking for to no avail.

The family of Y/N couldn’t believe the news nor did they believe that she was gone. She was out there, Jensen knew it.

A/N am I a terrible human? Do you want another part?

Part Two