#if you choose other though please reply your tv show recommendations please

[themand0lorian]

AND THE OSCAR GOES TO… (2)

BEST DOCUMENTARY-SHORT SUBJECT

Summary: A good documentarian is ready for anything.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: Mature

Words: ~3100 (AO3)

Tags: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Death of a sibling, Past Relationship, Flashbacks, Strangers to Lovers to Enemies to ???

Notes: Maybe after this things can start to look up for these two, huh???

TW for this part: Nondescript references to drugs/overdose. Death of a family member.

If you or someone you know struggles with opiod addiction, Naloxone/Narcan is readily available in the US and easy to use. Reader uses an autoinjector here, but it also comes as a nasal spray. I truly hope you never have the need for it, but like in this fic, it is life-saving. Read more at narcan.com.

New York City, 2001

The spontaneous dinner at Uncle Louie’s—Louie himself behind the counter, who called you ‘honey’ and asked about your father despite no relation to you—led to three unexpected outcomes.

One, Uncle Louie’s was hiring—and despite only meeting him, you gave Dieter a glowing recommendation, and Louie begrudgingly invited Dieter back the next day to begin training. Even if all Dieter got out of the interaction was a pizza wheel thrust in his general direction with some grumbles, you insisted, Louie was a softie at heart. You were good at that, too—seeing who people really were.

Two, you felt like a breath of fresh air to his lungs full of smog. He talked your ear off about movies and tv shows, his big city dreams, leaving behind his hometown. It was a story repeated time and time again, but you listened intently, asking questions that would send him spinning into another thought as he rambled over the checkerboard tablecloths. You told him about how Britany S. was making fun of Brittany P. over school supplies, but it turned out that Britany P. couldn’t actually afford her own supplies, and you were going to stop at the dollar store on the way home to pick some things up for her. How Sundays were for family dinners, your family still across the river where you grew up. How you had big dreams of your own, yearning to make the lives of the local kids better, 20 fourth graders at a time. The two of you just seemed to click; so much so, you closed down Uncle Louie’s, the man shooing you both off with a kitchen towel as he closed up. Needless to say, Dieter was smitten immediately—so smitten, he couldn’t take his eyes off you as he walked you back to your apartment.

Which is how he landed on outcome number three—an upturned sidewalk square, his eyes refusing to leave yours—he tripped, landing hard on his arm and, eventually, landing him in the emergency room with a broken elbow.

You were there through it all; walking with him to the hospital a few blocks down. Ignoring the tears pricking at his eyes. Distracting him with more stories of your kids. You didn’t press when you filled out his intake forms on his behalf, and he didn’t have an emergency contact to name—you simply put yourself, and you would have moved on, if he hadn’t asked.

“You’re my emergency contact?” You smiled smally at him, both of you side-by-side on the hard vinyl exam table.

“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other, don’t you?” You flirt gently, rubbing at the stress in his shoulders.

“Even though I ended our date in the emergency room?”

“Hmm, good point,” you joke. “I could always put Louie—” “No, no—you. Please,” he replies quickly, a boyish grin on his face for the first time since dinner. “I choose you.”

You were also the first—and only--person to sign his cast. He lamented it loudly, worried over his job with Louie and whether he could book acting gigs like this and how he’d make rent—worried he failed before he even started, not even one night down in the city. But you grabbed the plaster and a sharpie, bending it gently and hiding your scribbling—much too long to be your name. When you finished, you revealed with a flourish your handiwork—at the top, hidden from anyone but him, was a doodle of a trashcan, little flies coming out of the top as you beam.

“There. Now you’ll always remember how we met.” “I don’t think I could ever forget you,” he replied simply; honestly. The words made you shrink back slightly, but still, you look deeply into his eyes.

“Even when you’re big and famous? You won’t forget about me?” You knock your shoulder into his playfully, though your eyes darting to your hands give away your true fears.

“Never,” he promises. He goes to cross his heart, forgetting about the injury, and winces when he moves it wrong. You move to twine your fingers with his instead, both of you sitting on the table as he awaited his discharge.

Despite these three outcomes—or because of them—life in New York blossomed for Dieter Bracho. Louie was not particularly pleased about the cast, but grumbled something about “laws” and “you’re lucky I like her” and Dieter was wiping down tables and punching orders into the cash register. He tended to work evenings, so after school, you would stop by; tell him about the latest 10-year-old drama or the principal coming down on you, grade some math papers that would inevitably stain with tomato sauce—and Dieter would swim in and out, joining you between orders and soapy towels and grunts from Louie, even though the rickety table in the back corner you always took over was never used anyway.

He was able to get a few gigs to start out; it took thirteen different open calls, but he ��starred” in an ad for mattresses—the two of you staying up until the wee hours on his shitty futon the night it debuted, clinking champagne with bubbly giggles when it finally aired. He had a few others thrown in—"dead body number four” on a crime show, where his face was barely visible; “concerned parent” on a medical drama, where they cut his only line; simply “bystander” on another cop procedural. They weren’t the big roles he dreamed of, but between that and tips at Louie’s, he made do.

It didn’t take long for him to be invited to Sunday dinner; for your mom to fuss over him being too skinny before forcing another plate of spaghetti, for your dad to look accusingly at him over the Sunday paper. Your brother, Jason—living at home, just out of college, and going through a grunge phase—wasn’t particularly bothered either way. He humored Dieter when prompted, especially when he would ask about the latest concert he attended or what his friends liked to do--but otherwise seemed distant, a hard nut to crack. You would tell Dee about your childhood; running down alleyways after bouncy balls, fighting over the sprinkler—it was clear you loved your brother. Your mother had enough photo albums—usually out on display—to prove that you used to be close. But Jason mostly kept to himself, and Dee never pried.

You could tell he enjoyed being around family again. You had heard muffled conversations between his own—a phone call behind a closed door, shouts escalating as his father told him he’d never make it as an actor, as his mother pleaded for him to just come home, to get a "real" job. They always left him adrift, floating away until you could bring him back down again. You’d ask about the latest audition—a bust—or read off lines with him for the next one, each time with a different inflection until you both broke into giggles.

The L word didn’t take long; things with you just seemed effortless. Late nights turning to early mornings to “Do you just wanna split rent and live together?” A year, then two, flew by. He helped you grade English essays, massaged your shoulders when standardized test week came up. You cheered his victories, mourned his losses—you were the most caring, compassionate, loving person he ever met.

Are.

You are.

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, coming and going out of the same dingy apartment, kisses stolen that tasted of marinara sauce and cheese. You’d say the two of you kept Uncle Louie’s in business, but you know he was slipping Dee the meals for free.

So it seemed like the perfect option for Sunday dinner; your parents were out of town, but they wanted you to stop by anyway—eat with Jason. Your mom was worried, like usual, that he wasn’t eating enough. So you asked Dieter to bring home something, packed it up, made the trek out of the city and to your parents’ house. When Jason didn’t appear, you didn’t think anything of it—you began to climb the stairs, calling his name, asking Dieter to set up the plates.

He broke one, when he heard your blood-curdling, bone-chilling scream. Selfishly, it was all he thought about on the way up the stairs--that your mom would be mad he broke a "good" plate.

You found Jason face down in the bathroom, needle hanging out of his arm. He was cold, he wasn’t breathing; you were frozen in fear, couldn’t take your eyes off him as Dee took the stairs two, three at a time. Both of you froze then; looked at each other, for too long a moment. Then he ran to the bedroom, calling 911; you tried to revive him, shitty tv shows with CPR scenes not enough teachers to bring him back to you. Your parents came home to sirens and police tape and flashing lights.

Jason was pronounced dead on arrival, not even taken to the hospital. “Another overdose,” one EMT sighed, as you wept into Dieter. “If they had only gotten here sooner,” a cop muttered, shaking his head, and you wailed harder, Dieter pulling you to him tightly.

He stood in black with you when you said your goodbyes; watched the guilt eat at you. Your principal had given you a few weeks off, which meant your energy was focused on one thing—how you should have done better. You should have noticed sooner, or gotten the earlier bus that day, or paid attention better in CPR training—

It wasn’t unusual for Dieter to wake to you jolting up in bed in the middle of the night. Sometimes you would cry; he would tuck you into him, stay up until the sun appeared and your tears ran out. Sometimes you didn’t want to talk at all. One time you vomited, and he led you to the couch; throwing the sheets in the bathroom for later, he curled the blankets around you, pulling you with him until you laid down again, the far-away stare haunting your eyes.

“Talk to me, baby,” he murmured into your hair. “Please. Let me in.”

“It’s my fault,” you replied smally. You had gotten set up with a grief therapist—only a few appointments down, you hadn’t made much progress yet, but you were talking, and it was something.

“You know it wasn’t.”

“I—I should have been more prepared. I could have—” “Baby,” he scolds gently. You both sit in silence a few moments, only listening to the other breathe until he speaks again. “I—I wish, every day I wish I had gone upstairs and not you,” he admits.

“That’s not fair,” you reply. “He’s my brother—” “Baby—I choose you. When it comes down to it, I’ll always choose you—choose to keep you safe, to make you happy. I choose you. And I would choose to take this pain from you, if you’d let me.” You nod into him; he feels tears wetting his sleepshirt, but he ignores them.

“Can you promise me something?” “Anything,” he replies eagerly.

“Promise me that you'll never—never do this to me. Leave me like this. I--I don't ever want to feel like this again.” “I promise,” he replies simply, lifting your hand to his heart. “I promise, I’ll never, never do this to you.”

New York City, Present

Sam comes with the nurse, the principal, and the school resource officer in tow. Several other teachers have peeked out their rooms, hearing the commotion; Lizzie Lynch, your grade-partner, next-door-classroom-neighbor, and best friend, must’ve left her aide in charge of her classroom, as she scurries out, spotting Dieter on the ground, and grabs Sam, bringing him into your classroom and shutting the door.

“Call an ambulance!” You plead. The school nurse, Ms. Silva, kneels next to you, beginning to take Dieter’s vitals. He groans absently, but the noise comforts you as she begins to shine a flashlight in his eyes.

“They’re on the way,” Dr. Partridge, the principal, assures you, clicking her walkie-talkie at her hip to make it stop chirping before turning to the uniformed man next to her. “How the hell did this homeless man end up in my school?!” she practically growls at the resource officer. She’s five-foot-nothing, grey curly hair piled on the top of her head in a messy nest, pinned in place with a pencil. Despite her easy demeanor with the kids—she knows every single one by name—she has limited patience for mistakes or disobedience, and Dan, the newly assigned resource officer who spends more time on his phone in the bathroom than actually protecting the school, seems to be the poster child for both.

“He’s not homeless,” you reply, but you’re drowned out by Dan.

“I told you the back lock was busted,” he shrugs nonchalantly, brushing his long black bangs out of his face. He’s a young thing—if it weren’t for his rent-a-cop uniform, he could practically pass as one of the high schoolers who comes in for community service. He has the same attitude as them, too. “Guess through there.” “Aren’t you supposed to--!” She huffs loudly. She hears the secretary leading someone up the stairs and stops herself, pointing at him. “Go to my office. Wait there.” You’re relieved to see the EMT’s; Ms. Silva rattles off numbers as they load Dieter onto a gurney, and they nod.

“I—I gave him Narcan,” you add, beginning to walk with the group as they reapproach the stairs. “No allergies, family history of—” Dr. Partridge calls your name.

“You don’t need to go with him, sweetheart—”

“I—it’s Dieter, Anya.” She looks at him being wheeled away, distant recognition hitting her. Her face softens as she looks at you; she searches your face gently. She knows him, even from so long ago; she’s been at PS 365 longer than you have. She hired you, nurtured you, watched you grow; watched you fall apart.

“Are you sure you want to—” “I’m going!” You argue gently, knowing your time is limited. Lizzie stands at your classroom door, cracked open slightly as she looks at your distraught face.

“I’ll take her kids to mine. We’ll do times-tables-Kahoot.” Dr. Partridge nods, and you sprint away, following the EMTs out of the building as you continue to rattle off information.

You didn’t see this part before. The machines, the doctors, cars parting for the screaming ambulance. Dieter’s eyes opened as you drove, pinning you with a look of confusion, of pain—a small miracle at all that he seemed to be coherent enough to even look at you, recognize you.

As if he could ever forget you.

You watched him get wheeled away; watched as a nurse took you to a private waiting room, asked you if there was anyone to call. There wasn’t, not anymore—not anyone you would know. He’d been distant from his family for years, you had only met them once in the whole time you were together, and it didn't end amicably; you suppose there may be someone else with him now, but when you tell the nurse to call his emergency contact, she explains that you’re still the one listed from all those years ago.

Once he’s settled, stable, in a hospital bed—looking wholly cleaner, and more like the Dieter you knew—you’re allowed to sit with him, wait for him to come to. Doctors and nurses have praised you nonstop; you saved his life, you’re a hero, with the levels they found in his blood, he wouldn’t have made it without your help. The congratulations all feel hollow, as you wait for him to wake up.

You allow yourself, just for a moment, to think about what it would be like. If you had stayed together—if you had gotten married. Would he be here, like this? Would you? Or would you both be posh New Yorkers, attending gallery openings and wine nights instead of parent-teacher conferences and PD lectures? Would you have had a life with him, pictures of your travels, evidence of your love as you both aged—would there be kids waiting for you at home? Would they be worried about their dad? Would you be at his side, weeping into your clasped hands, wedding rings tinging together?

“What are you doing here?” You startle out of your daydream at the gravel of his voice. His head lulls side to side as he looks at you, blinking slowly.

“You OD’ed in my classroom,” you reply tersely. He sighs heavily, which makes you roll your eyes, the illusion of the old Dieter shattered. “I—Now that you’re awake, I’ll get going—”

He mutters your name, making you pause as you gather your things. “Don’t—” “Why did you come to my classroom?” You cut him off angrily. “You—you just had to hurt me one more time? Make me watch you die? God, Dee—”

“Baby,” he repeats, only a bit clearer. You look at him, tears pooling at your eyelashes. “Don’t leave.”

“I can’t do this again, Dieter,” you plead. “I love you,” he tries, and you roll your eyes weakly.

“Stop—” You beg, trying to wipe away your tears before they fall. “Please,” he whispers sincerely. “Please—let me fix this.”

“You can’t just come back into my life after all these years and—” He repeats your name. Each word seems to pain him, but the only thing that seems to come out is your name, breaking you that much further. “Tell me you don’t feel the same and I’ll never bother you again. But please, I want to talk to you. I need you.” I want to be with you. To love you.

“You need to get clean, Dee.” You reply, making your way to the doorway before pausing in the threshold. Everything feels like too much, like fifteen years have arrived on a freight train and you’re tied to the tracks. But you know, in your heart—you can’t lie, can’t tell him what he’s asking for. He’s tied down to the tracks with you.

“I—I promise. I will.”

“How do I know you’ll keep this one?” They’re quiet, but the words cut him to the core; he can see that saying them hurts you just as much. He looks to his hands remorsefully.

“I will,” he whispers.

“Then—if you do, then come find me, and maybe we can talk,” you sigh, trying to compose yourself.

He nods, watching you leave through the windows, brushing your tears away ashamedly; his finally begin to fall, the memory somehow still too fresh—fifteen years later--of the last time he watched you walk out on him.

Only this time, he knows—he needs to keep his promises. He needs to get you back. Whatever it takes.

TAGS: @pjkimrn @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @marydjarin @eri16 @curiouskeyboard @frankiemoraleswifexo @justjaclin @elegantduckturtle @janebby @leslie-lyman @bison-writes @imtryingmybeskar @athalien @vaguely-here-wish-i-was-not @kirsteng42 @girlofchaos @deadhumourist @amneris21 @swtaura @tintinn16 @squidwell @littlemisspascal @churchill356 @thesmutslut @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @RANDEERENAE @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @hnt-escape @gracie7209 @xx-small-town-witch-xx @jediknight122

[mviswidow]

i can’t feel it

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2,727

Warnings: wandavision spoilers!! i recommend catching up before reading this if you haven’t already. also, i cursed like, twice.

A/N: this was literally edited while i was falling asleep, so if there are mistakes, that’s why. Please pm or reply, telling me and I'll go back and fix it.

Prompt: hi!! what about a wanda x reader where r has similar powers to wanda & enters the hex to talk her into letting everyone in westview go & coming home with r? :)

Summary: R has to convince Wanda to let everyone in Westview go.

    part two

“Are you sure you remember everything?” Jimmy asked you, concerned about how fast you were being thrown into everything. 

You nodded confidently, you were nervous, kind of scared, but ready. After getting a call from Monica, you knew whatever was going on was important, and you made your way to the outskirts of Westview, New Jersey before she even had to tell you what was going on. “Wanda’s robot boyfriend-”

“-Synthezoid,” Jimmy corrected before seeing the look Darcy gave him. “Sorry.”

“Synthezoid boyfriend died because Thanos pulled the mind stone out of his head, she had to watch him die twice and freaked out, stole his body from S.W.O.R.D., and created a fake sitcom reality where she goes through decades because she’s a grieving 30 year old with an odd obsession with tv shows. Oh, and she’s mind controlling a whole town and I’m supposed to convince her to let them go. Almost forgot that one,” You said, pointedly making the lighthearted joke because of Jimmy’s evident stress, chuckling softly.

“Just be careful,” Darcy cut in, “Wanda doesn’t seem to want to leave and we won't know if things go wrong because she chooses what goes in her show and what doesn’t.”

“I’ll be just fine. Let’s go,” You sighed and the four of you started to head out the door, but Hayward pulled you aside before you could leave the building. You told them to go ahead and you would meet them by the car.

“Ms (Y/L/N),” Hayward nodded, and you nodded back to him. Warm greeting, you thought. “Director Hayward.”

“If you cannot get Wanda to submit and release the people of Westview, I want you to fight her. Do whatever you have to, I need the Vision’s body back in S.W.O.R.D. custody and the citizens of Westview to be freed.”

Your brow furrowed, “My assignment is to try to persuade Ms Maximoff. I’m not fighting her, Sir. She’s grieving. I just got here and I can tell. She seems like she just wants to be happy.”

He scoffed at you and shook his head, “Her happiness means nothing to me. Ms Maximoff has thousands held captive. So, I think you’re misunderstanding me, Ms (Y/L/N), I am ordering you to kill her if needed. We need her to bring that barrier down.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Director. I’m just here to try to work things out, not to fight anyone,” You retorted.

“So you would let her continue to mind control the people of Westview? To continue controlling a sentient weapon made of vibranium?” Hayward asked pointedly, but you weren’t having any of it.

“With all due respect, you seem awfully concerned about the Vision when there are ‘thousands held captive’. And regardless, do you have any idea what would happen if Wanda died while all those people were in there?” You paused for a moment, giving him a chance to answer. “I didn’t think so.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and huffed, quickly making your way to the car that was waiting to take you to the border of the hex, Darcy, Monica, and Jimmy sat inside of it.

“What did he want?” Jimmy asked.

You sighed and started playing with the sleeve of your long sleeved shirt, “He wants me to kill Wanda if she doesn’t stop mind controlling Westview.”

Darcy’s eyes widened, “Sorry, what?”

You looked up at her and saw her concerned expression, “Oh, I’m not going to.” You said quickly, not wanting any of them to get the wrong impression. “He isn’t in charge of me. Wanda doesn’t seem to want to hurt anyone in Westview, and besides, it would be foolish when we know nothing about what would happen inside the barrier if she died.”

Darcy nodded as Monica parked the car and the four of you got out of it.

“Thank you for doing this, (Y/n),” Monica smiled softly as you reached the hex.

“You know I’m always willing to help you when you need me,” You smiled and looked towards the barrier.

You knew the trio was watching you intently, with the other agents standing outside, waiting for you to go in, but your heart was racing and you had to take a few deep breaths before bringing your hands up, moving your fingers in a way that they recognized to be similar to the way Wanda did, and you stepped closer, the blue light from your powers flowing forward and hitting the hex.

It kind of looked like when food coloring is dropped into water, and the color spreads, except your powers were the food coloring, and the hex was the water.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you pulled your hands further apart and groaned as you slowly but surely pulled apart a section of the barrier that was big enough for you to fit through before walking right through it.

As soon as you were through, you looked behind you and saw nothing. None of the S.W.O.R.D. tents or buildings or cars, Darcy, Monica, Jimmy, and all the other agents who were outside were gone. It was just a plain old normal street.

You looked down at your clothes and chuckled, the 80s. If Wanda had anything, it was a fashion sense, whether it was conscious of it or not. You were dressed in a fitted white shirt, and an electric blue skirt and cropped blazer set. Was it a bit tacky? Sort of, but you couldn’t help but love it. However, you were very pleased that the white boots you were wearing didn’t have too high of a heel. 

You sighed and knew you needed to go quickly. Vision had just left for work and this was the best chance you were going to get to talk to Wanda. You doubted she would let you convince her to let everyone go if Vision was there with her.

You extended your arms to the ground below you and used your powers to lift yourself up into the air, waiting until you saw the house you recognized to be Wanda’s to fly down to a street that had no one on it that was close enough for you to arrive quickly.

Your hand trembled as it reached up to knock on the door, but before you could overthink any longer, you tapped your knuckles against the wood three times and waited, playing with your fingers.

Wanda opened the door and smiled, though she wore a confused expression on her face, “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met before, or have we?”

You offered a smile and shook your head, “We haven’t, I’m (Y/n).”

“Wanda,” she said, with a lilt in her voice.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something, if you aren’t busy? It’s important.”

She gazed at you curiously before nodding and stepping out of the way, “Come inside.”

You walked inside her home, the feeling you got was weird. You’d seen it on Darcy’s tv, but it was different to actually be in the room.

Wanda noticed the way your eyes flicked around her living room, looking at the couch, the photos hanging, the random decorations, and the few toys on the floor.

“Do you want something to drink?” She asked politely, before noticing you staring at one of the toys Tommy happened to favor. “My boys are upstairs.”

You smiled politely and shook your head, “I’m alright, Wanda, thank you. I need to talk to you about what you’re doing.” You started, not very strongly, but it wasn’t like you could just blurt out what you needed to say. This was a difficult situation.

“I’m sorry?” She tilted her head, not catching on, but she looked worried.

“I know about your powers, you’re controlling everyone in Westview, and Vision is starting to-”

“Leave,” Wanda extended her hands and tried to levitate you out, but you put your hands at your side and grounded yourself, blue mist surrounding your feet.

Wanda faltered and her eyes widened at the sight of your powers, “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n. I was sent here to convince you to let everyone in Westview go. I promise I don’t mean you any harm, I just want things to go smoothly so no one else gets hurt.”

Wanda shook her head, “I can't just let go of this, I finally have everything I want.”

You sighed and nodded, “I understand how you feel, I have lost family too, but the people of Westview, they have their own lives and families. They’re in pain, Wanda. I can feel it. Can’t you?”

Her eyes snapped up and met yours, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill. She shook her head, “I can’t feel it.”

You stood for a moment, the two of you just looking at each other, before taking a breath and letting the blue mist that was keeping you grounded fade away. Cautiously, you walked closer to her and let out a breath of relief when she wasn’t backing away or looking like she was going to attack you.

“You can look into minds, can’t you?” You asked, knowing that showing her the pain she was unknowingly putting these people through was the best chance you had at convincing her to do the right thing. 

Wanda nodded without saying anything and understood what you wanted her to do. Shakily, she lifted her hand and bit her lip, she looked scared.

You blinked a few times, thought, fuck it, and gently held her wrist, bringing her hand up to your temple. You watched her eyes glow red before closing your eyes, allowing Wanda to see inside your mind.

All Wanda could feel was an unbearable amount of agony, she heard thousands of voices overlapping each other, panicked screams and crying. It was too much. Everyone sounded so scared. She did this.

The feeling was excruciating and let out a strangled sob, which made your eyes open on instinct.

Tears were flowing freely down Wanda’s face and she slowly sank to her knees, trying to catch her breath.

You got down on the floor in front of her and held one of her hands, using your other one to tilt her chin up towards you, “It’s okay, Wanda.”

She shook her head furiously and squeezed your hand, leaning forward, into you.

You wrapped your arm around her and let her cry into your shoulder. Your stomach felt twisted and you couldn’t believe Hayward had asked you to kill Wanda if she refused to comply, not when she was reacting like this.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” She managed to get out between deep breaths and whimpers. “I just - I wanted Vis back.”

Tears pricked at your own eyes, but you ignored them, knowing that you had to focus on Wanda, “I know, it’s okay. Everything will be okay. You just have to put down the barriers around Westview and stop mind controlling everyone.”

Wanda’s breath hitched, but she nodded, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You asked. Surprised at how you managed to get her to listen to you.

“I’ll do it now,” She sniffled and wiped her tears, standing up slowly.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Well, hold on, don’t you want to see Vision first? Or call the twins down here?”

Her lips pressed together as another tear slipped down her cheek and she shook her head, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I allow myself to see them again,” She said quietly.

You nodded and stepped back, letting her go about this whatever way she wanted.

You watched her work, even though the two of you were inside, you could see out the window that the sky had turned red and it was gradually getting more blue, looking like she was chipping off pieces of the sky, if the sky was red, away from the inside out. 

Before you knew it, the house the two of you were standing in had been reduced to the foundation of a home, just concrete laying on the floor in the shape of the house Wanda had been living in. 

She was wearing a burgundy shirt, a jacket, and jeans instead of the big jeans and plaid shirt she’d had on before, and you were back to wearing your comfortable grey long sleeved shirt and jeans.

Her bottom lip started to tremble and she turned towards you before her breath started to quicken.

You wore a pained expression and stepped towards her, holding your arms out. You thought she was going to deny the embrace you were offering her, but she walked forward and buried her head in your neck, letting you wrap your arms around her, “I’m really proud of you, Wanda. It takes a lot to be able to give up something that important to you.”

She nodded, but said nothing. You stood there for about two more minutes before her breathing had calmed and she’d stopped crying. “Thank you, (Y/n).”

You nodded and smiled sadly at her before you both looked towards the red buick that was now sitting in her driveway, “I think I’m going to have to take you back out of Westview with me. I’ll get in trouble if I just let you leave, I think.”

“It’s fine, I’ll go,” She fished the keys to her car out of her pocket and played with the keyring. “Do you think you can drive us? I kind of want to look around before we leave.”

You took her keys and she let out a breath before quietly thanking you and walking to the passenger seat of her car.

Before you pulled out of the driveway, you spoke, “How did you do all of this?” You asked curiously. Sure, you had magic yourself, but there was no way you could even dream about pulling off anything like this.

“I’m not sure. All I remember is feeling so completely alone and sad, and I went to S.W.O.R.D. to see Vis for the last time before coming here, because Hayward wouldn’t let me take his body to give him a funeral or anything, so I guess I made a version of him here. I really don’t know how I managed though, because -”

“Sorry,” You interrupted, turning to look at her with your brows knitted together. “You said the Vision stayed in S.W.O.R.D.?”

“Yes?” She nodded. “What is it?”

You huffed and started the engine of the car, pulling out of the driveway, “The lying bastard. Hayward edited security camera footage to make it look like you stole the Vision’s body and used it here.” 

“That’s ridiculous. I know better than to make myself a criminal again. Well, I mean-” 

“It’s fine Wanda. You didn’t mean to,” You continued driving, enjoying the neighborhood.

When you were getting close to the edge of town, she spoke again. “Am I going to jail?”

“I won’t let them put you in jail,” You said simply.

“What, why?” Wanda asked, and it was clear that she was asking because she thought she deserved it and she was expecting it to happen.

“You don’t deserve it,” You shrugged. You didn’t want her to suffer alone, again. She already tried that, and look where that got everyone.

Wanda shook her head, “You know that isn’t true.”

“I believe it is. I know that your actions were wrong, but Hayward was wrong for denying you when you asked for Vision’s body to bury. It wasn’t his to have. All he cares about is money and power and the Vision would cost a lot of money and would give him a lot of power. I mean, realistically, he’s kind of the cause for this. But that’s not the point. The point is that it was never your intention to hurt these people and it’s not fair to you that he set you up like this.”

“And what will you do if they try to put me in jail?” Wanda asked curiously, her voice low.

You sighed as you started to be able to make out Jimmy, Monica, and Darcy from far away. “I dunno, maybe we can run away together or something.”

[itsamejin]

it’s you || part 2 (finale) || taehyung angst/fluff || hanahaki au ||

Part 1

Summary: You’d rather live with thorns endlessly scratching the back of your throat than be devoid of the light that Taehyung brought into your life. Even if your love for him was slowly killing you, you didn’t mind as long as you could keep the warmth of his presence until the very end.

Warning: Mentions of throwing up and death

Genre: Fluff, Angst, hanahaki!au, college!au, fuckboy!tae

Pairing: Taehyung x female!reader

Premise: Hanahaki Disease comes in different forms in this universe. The disease would eventually disappear if your love wasn’t that strong to begin with, but if you truly, deeply love someone, your flowers will rip at your throat. Throwing up flowers wasn’t a rare occurrence and for most people it disappeared after a few days. If Hanahaki persists, surgery is recommended, but it would severely dull the positive emotions of the person under surgery. Due to this, some choose to die with their unrequited love.

Commission Request: @guksflavor 

Word Count: 6,524 words

—

The sound of Taehyung’s body hitting the floor woke you up from unconsciousness. When your blurry eyes had started to focus and your ears were beginning to register the screaming, panic had hit you like a ton of bricks. 

“You fucking heard me,” Jungkook’s voice resounded. “You gave her Hanahaki.”

Taehyung stood up, tears staining his cheeks, and sucked in deep breaths. His teeth were bleeding from the impact of Jungkook’s fist and his mind ached from his words. It just didn’t feel real to him. It didn’t feel like a possibility.

You sat up on the bed, horrified at what you were witnessing. Jungkook, who had sworn to you that he wouldn’t tell a soul, betrayed you in your presence. Nothing hurt more, though, than the pained expression Taehyung carried, like the idea of being loved by you physically hurt him.

“You had no right,” you whimper quietly, enough for your two wounded best friends to turn their heads toward your brooding figure. “You had no fucking right Jungkook.”

“[Y/N], I-” Jungkook started, but couldn't do anything else as you screamed for him to not take another step forward.

“Get out,” you spew as small sobs escape your lips, “both of you.”

Jungkook pleaded with his eyes as if begging for forgiveness, but you refused to look up at him. Taehyung, on the other hand, grabbed his coat and rushed to leave. His mind was cloudy and he needed time to think, the hospital air suffocating him. Jungkook grabbed his wrist.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jungkook asks through gritted teeth, gripping him strongly.

Taehyung pulled his hand away roughly, giving him a death glare. He wasn’t in the mood for any more confrontations and he couldn’t bear to see your crying face any longer. Before he stepped out, Taehyung took one last look at you. 

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N],” he says before exiting. Jungkook glares at his leaving figure with disappointment etched all over his face. Just because you asked him to leave doesn’t mean that he actually should.

“Do you see what I fucking mean, [Y/N]?” Jungkook rants, striding to your bedside. “Why am I the one here and not him? He doesn’t deserve you [Y/N]. The sooner you realize that the sooner you’ll get better.”

You shook your head quietly as you tried to steady your breathing. Jungkook patted you on the back as you continued to cry onto your blanketed lap. 

“I told you to leave Jungkook,” you reply, attempting to steady your voice. 

“And I told you to get that fucking surgery,” he says seriously, “but look where we are now.”

You cry harder as he comes closer to hug you. Although Jungkook might have ruined any chance of you having a beautiful last memory of Taehyung, it felt comforting to have someone assure you- to have a shoulder to lean on.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Jungkook mutters into your hair.

“Yeah,” you choke out. “I still love him, though.”

You felt Jungkook shiver in your arms. You realized then that the man who usually stayed silent, the best friend who rarely showed affection, was crying.

“I don’t want you to die,” he cries into your shoulder. “Please, [Y/N]. Please get the surgery.”

You shake your head as you sob louder. Jungkook held onto you tightly as if you would disappear the moment he let you go. He doubts he’d talk to Taehyung again after that fight and if he loses you too... then he doesn’t quite know how he’d live with himself. 

“I don’t want to die either Jungkook,” you muster out. “I don’t want to die.”

Your words were barely legible as you started to cough uncontrollably. Small petals started to escape your mouth and it made you cry harder at how horrible the timing was. Jungkook ran out of the room to call a nurse, concern dredging his already harrowed face.

“I don’t want to die,” you repeat as the lasting image of a nurse rushing towards you is consumed by darkness.

—

Taehyung ran to his apartment, locking the door behind him like he was in danger. He collapsed on the floor, his body pressed up against the door. It felt as if his mind was conceptualizing everything and nothing at the same time. He tried shaking his head to clear his thoughts, but it only made his headache worse.

He didn't even realize how badly he was shaking, how badly he felt his heart constrict in his chest. Why had you not told him? Why were you choosing to suffer all alone? And why wouldn’t you get that damn surgery?

Taehyung struggled to stand up, not even bothering to turn on any of the lights as he walked to his room. Before he could drop himself into bed, he caught sight of himself on the mirror that faced his bedroom door. Taehyung walked closer to it, seeing the reflection of his shadowed figure on it. He cringed at the small outlines of his face battered and bruised. It would be hard to show up to class the next morning with a black eye and dried blood on his lips. He looked closer, particularly into his own eyes and how they shined in the moonlight. They would usually crinkle in happiness, but now they looked nothing more than hollow. 

Taehyung knew he shouldn’t have left- that he should’ve stayed to reassure you and that this changed nothing about your friendship. Yet everything was happening too quickly for him to register and he couldn’t lie and say that this didn’t make him view things differently. 

Taehyung realized that you were dying because of him. You were dying over an idiot that can’t commit to relationships easily, a fool who thinks more about sex than love. He grimaced at his past habits, wondering how he could ever let it get this bad.

He doesn’t know when he could last hear your laugh or see your smile or hug your frame. Somehow the image of you lifeless on a hospital bed is what made the tears come down naturally. 

—

As usual, Taehyung skipped class, but not for the usual excuse. He went to his favorite Thai restaurant, ordered some Tom Yam Kung and Mango Sticky Rice, and headed to the hospital. He was noticeably nervous, his palms sweating from the lack of preparation. Taehyung was planning on apologizing for last night’s events, but he couldn’t muster up the courage to practice any written speech. He figured he could wing it, that you’d be willing to forgive him for picking a fight with Jungkook, forcing information out of him, and ultimately fleeing when he got said information. 

As he was met with the front door of your hospital room, he sucked in a deep breath. Taehyung knew this apology would most likely end with him in tears, but he needed to see you- no matter how hurt he’ll be in the end.

He knocks once and slides the door open without hesitation. You sat upon the bed, hollowly watching whatever news channel was on the hospital TV. Your expression darkened as you saw him approach you. It wasn’t like you were mad at him- more upset with Jungkook than anything- but you didn’t know if you could face him after your feelings were made known.

“Hi,” you croaked out, voice extremely damaged from the night before. You had passed out before you could spew out any more hydrangeas, but it still left scarring.

He approaches you, laying the Thai food on the desk that was attached to the hospital bed. He sat on the chair Jungkook had slept in the night before.

“How are you feeling?” he asks solemnly. “Your voice-”

“Yeah,” you cut him off. “It sounds bad, huh?”

You try to laugh, but it came out as small wheezes, only pushing him to be more concerned. Taehyung looks around the room so you wouldn’t feel as embarrassed. He wanted to distract himself from the sadness of it all.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

Your face softened at his name. When you had woken up, he was sleeping next to you on the chair with furrowed brows. You had sent him home, promising you’d still be alive after he takes a shower and attends his classes.

“He went to class,” you say. “Like some other people I know should be doing....”

Taehyung shook his head and stood up. He untied the knot to the plastic bag and took the food out. You couldn’t quite read his face, not really knowing what he was thinking.

“Tae you know I can’t eat-”

“I know. Who says these are for you?” he says seriously, but with a teasing glint in his eyes. A lighter approach would work much better. It would hurt less to talk about it too straightforwardly.

“Jerk,” you mutter, shaking your head in fake annoyance. “Go ahead and eat then asshole.”

“I will,” he sticks his tongue out. “Enjoy watching me.”

You muster out a chuckle before you start to cough again. You grab the open water bottle on the nightstand and gulp it down until it was almost finished. Taehyung watched with worried eyes as he broke his chopsticks in half. You set down the water, embarrassed that he had to witness you struggle so much from just a laugh.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he whispers. “For everything.”

You purse your lips. An apology was the last thing you needed from him.

“I don’t regret falling in love with you, Tae,” you start. “I want you to know that.”

He bows his head and bites the inside of his cheek. No matter how cold you were towards him at times, you still cared for him so much. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you.

“If I had known earlier-”

“Nothing would change,” you smile sadly, ruffling his hair to get him to look up at you. “Forcing yourself to like me shouldn’t be an option you think about, Tae.”

He raises his head and takes the hand that was on his head into his own. 

“Is it okay if I hold your hand like this?” he asks, concerned you might have another flower fit. He had read somewhere that physical touch causes more pain to the Hanahaki patient. 

You nod your head in response, lightly squeezing his hand with the very little power you had left in your body. His heart skipped a beat at how longingly you looked at him, an expression he hasn’t quite seen before.

“It’s fine. They put me on really strong suppressants last night. This should be okay.”

“Why do you need suppressants?”

You hesitate to answer, knowing he’d only be more concerned if you told him that you fainted. You could feel his panic in how sweaty his palms were already. He could already tell the gist of what happened by the look in your eyes and he condemned himself even more.

“Fuck [Y/N], I’m so sorry,” he closes his eyes to compose himself. “I shouldn't have been a coward and I should’ve been more considerate to your feelings when I always dragged you and Jungkook out to clubs and I should’ve stopped asking you to give me your friends’ numbers and-”

You shushed him, smiling at how he went off in a tangent. Even in sad moments like this, Taehyung was so undeniably cute.

“Tae, it’s fine,” you reassure. “I don’t hate you.”

“You should,” he replies, “because I really hate myself right now.”

“Don’t,” you say, brushing his bangs out of his face. His face was still badly beaten up from the night before. “I just want good memories with you from now on.”

Taehyung smiles sadly at you. His heart clenched at your words and his lips quivered as if he was holding back a sob.

“I’ll try, [Y/N].”

He clutches your hand tighter as he sees you on the verge of tears. Taehyung doesn’t want to push you to get the surgery; he knows by now that you already made up your mind. There was nothing else he could do except watch as one of his best friends slowly fall out of his reach. He just knows that he’ll miss you. He knows he will.

—

A week passed and Jungkook and Taehyung still refused to talk to each other. They had miraculously coordinated their schedules so that it was impossible to run into each other while they visited you. The one time they had, you were forced to watch them try and avoid each other’s gazes as Jungkook made his way into the hospital room with a large teddy bear. Taehyung had whined to you about him the next day, saying that Jungkook was holding a grudge against him.

“He’s being a dick to me,” he starts, “more than usual.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t assumed the worst out of him then you wouldn’t have gotten knocked out,” you rolled your eyes.

“Just so you know, I threw the first punch,” he chides.

“Yeah and look who has the more busted face?” you chuckled.

The coughs worsened and sometimes the suppressants weren’t enough to fully push down the flowers, so you would throw up small petals during that small time frame when Taehyung left and Jungkook was yet to come. It felt like you had fooled Jungkook into thinking you had gotten better, but he would always scold you every time he came over and heard your worsening voice.

“You need to stop letting him see you,” he says roughly. “The doctors literally told you it would be more dangerous if he keeps hanging around you.”

“Jungkook, I want to see him,” you reply hoarsely. “I’m pretty sure it would hurt more if I wasn’t able to see him before I-”

He cuts you off before you can say it. Jungkook was always upset when you said the word die, as if not saying it would make it any less of a reality. He thought there was still a chance- a chance to save you.

“It’s not too late to get the surgery,” he says through a sigh. “Just let me know and I’ll call the doctor in here right now.”

You groan at his insistence, figuring he’d be sick with the nagging by now. You laid down on the bed, turning away from his sitting form.

“Jungkook,” you warn quietly, “If I have to say it again-”

“I know, I know,” he says, standing up. “But every time I walk in here you look worse than the day before. This isn’t right [Y/N].”

When you didn’t reply back, he only sighed out in frustration. You were acting like a child again.

“It’s getting late so I’m gonna head out, but remember what I said. If you ever decide to change your mind, I’ll take care of you after the surgery. I’m not gonna leave you alone. 

You close your eyes, feigning sleep. You clenched the bedsheets as you heard him walk away.

“You won’t turn out like your mom, I promise you.”

You clenched your teeth. How dare he bring that up?

“Make sure to close the door on your way out,” you reply angrily.

—

You sat on the couch in front of the window, a massive notebook in your lap. You scribbled on it without much thought, words pouring onto the sheet of paper without hesitation. It was the letters you were planning to write to all the close people in your life. Just an hour earlier, the nurses had come in to inform you that the doctor wanted to speak with you.

“[Y/N], it seems the disease is getting ready to...,” the doctor stumbled slightly, not knowing how to phrase the next part. “It’s getting ready to come to an end.”

To you, it was obvious he meant that your time was ticking. He advised you to start making calls to any loved ones and finalize a will, though you don’t know what real assets a college student working part-time could hand over to anybody. 

You had decided on giving away your remaining belongings to charity and putting Jungkook in charge of separating your items from your dorm room. You would give Taehyung all your plushies and sentimental items, hoping he could work out an agreement to split the items with Jungkook even if you were gone.

You hoped that they would reconcile, preferably when you still had the chance to be with them one last time, but beggars can’t really be choosers. It hurt to see your best friends avoid each other because of you and so, you wrote letters to them that would detail just how important they were to your life and how important they were to each other. It motivated you, knowing they’d read it and maybe find a way to forgive each other for the black eyes they were still nursing.

You started with Jungkook’s, a little easier to write because you knew exactly what you wanted to tell him.

To Jungkook,

If you’re reading this then that means I’m gone and I know you’re probably punching the air right now at how stupid I am, but I just wanted to say something to you before you start crying reading this. I know you’re a little more sensitive than you let on.

Before anything else, I want to say thank you. Thank you for drawing these beautiful flowers on my skin and being there for me when no one else was. You are the only person I told about what happened with my mom and you listened to me without being the judgmental prick you usually are. I know you want me to live, more than anyone else, but I hope you understand one day why I can’t. 

You know Tae. You know how happy he made me. If I chose to live without loving him, I wouldn’t be me. I’d be alive, but I’d barely be living. 

Jungkook, there’s not a lot of words I can use to express how much I needed you in my life. Genuinely and truthfully, you were the glue that held our friendship together. You were my voice of reason and I am so happy I got to know a person like you in the short time I’ve lived on this earth.

I hope that you’ll be able to experience a mutual love in the way I couldn’t. I hope you have a wonderful life in the future and that I’ll be a good memory to tell your kids one day. You deserve to grow out of that tattoo shop and start your own. You deserved to have finished college without the added trauma of having your best friend die on you. I’m sorry I caused all this pain, but I know you can get through it. I know you can get through life without me. I wish I wasn’t so stubborn till the very end-

Tears had started to drop on the notepad, smearing the black ink just a tad bit. You had to collect yourself to continue, looking out the window to prevent the tears from hitting the paper. You took in a deep breath and continued.

but Jungkook you know me. And you know that I’ll miss you, no matter what happens to me after this has all passed. My final wish to you is that you and Tae keep me in your memories and stop fighting all the time. I’ll find a way to get back to you guys somehow (though I don’t know what will happen to me after death) so please stay together and wait for me until then. I promise I’ll find a way back to you guys. I promise.

You gently ripped the piece of paper you had written on and folded it in half, setting it underneath the notepad. You’d ask the nurse for an envelope later. You stared blankly at the new and empty page, a wet mark of your tears remained from the previous paper. You racked your brain for words to say to Taehyung. You had to be honest, that’s the only way you could leave this world peacefully. Not even bothering to write a greeting for him as you did with Jungkook, you let the words flow out of your pen easily.

—

“What the fuck is this?” Jungkook asks you, his hands shaking as he held the envelope in his hand. It was as light as air, but it felt so heavy between his fingers.

“A letter,” you say, by then your throat was already too strained to speak too loudly. “To read after I pass.”

He shakes his head, thrusting it back towards you. 

“I’m not reading it [Y/N],” he replies through gritted teeth. “If you want me to fucking read it then you need to get the surgery.”

“Really?” you ask him, anger bubbling up within your chest. 

“You can’t just expect me to stand here and take your last words and be okay with that-”

“Really Jungkook? You’re really gonna argue with me about this?”

He refused to make eye contact, noticeably upset. You shook your head out of agitation.

“Just listen to me for once, Jungkook,” you say dangerously low.

“That’s all I’ve been doing,” he clenches his fist. “I’m tired of listening when it feels like I can’t even do anything to help you [Y/N].”

You beckon him to face you, grabbing the letter you wrote for Taehyung on your nightstand.

“You’ve done more than enough, Jungkook,” you say with a sad smile. 

“I haven’t done shit,” he chuckles sadly, clutching the letter harder. Was he supposed to watch as his best friend suffers through a curable terminal disease?

“But if you want to make it up to me,” you start, with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Give this to Taehyung.”

He looks at the envelope with doubt laced in his eyes. 

“He doesn’t deserve a fucking letter [Y/N].”

You glare at him until he begrudgingly takes the letter from your hand.

“It’s not gonna work you know,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’m gonna hold a grudge against him for the rest of my life for giving you this fucking disease.”

You sigh.

“Just try?” you ask pleadingly. “For me?”

—

A few days passed and Jungkook sulked in the hallway of Taehyung’s apartment complex, waiting for him to show up. His shoulders tensed each time he heard the elevator doors open. He didn’t quite know how to talk to Taehyung without spewing out an insult, but he knew he had to muscle through it for your sake. He waited and waited, until eventually, a guy with a cut across his cheek walked past him, scrolling through his phone. Jungkook smirked at how unaware of his surroundings he still was. 

“Yo,” he says, grabbing Taehyung by the elbow as his figure approached his. Taehyung glared at the hand that wrapped around him and pulled back aggressively when he saw who it was.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” “Don’t worry,” he sighs out of exasperation, “I’m here to deliver something.”

Jungkook took the letter out of the back pocket of his jeans. He grabbed Taehyung’s empty hand and slaps the crumpled envelope on his hand.

“[Y/N] wants you to read this after she...” Jungkook swallowed as he feels his words falter, “eventually passes away.”

Taehyung wouldn’t let the glare go, but clutches onto the letter, bringing it to his side as if Jungkook would take it away from him.

“Why are you the one giving it to me?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Because she wants us to be civil. Make up or whatever.”

Taehyung lets out a scoff.

“And you?” he mocks. “Why would you agree?”

Jungkook clenches his fist and walks toward his friend- if he could call him that anymore. He places a firm hand on Taehyung’s left shoulder and looks him straight in the eye.

“I agreed because I know it’s no use in hating you over something you can’t control,” he starts, “and because I know you’ll read that letter right away anyway. I figure I’d stay to at least watch you cry.”

Taehyung chuckles and Jungkook broke out into a toothy grin himself.

“So I’m guessing you read your own letter?”

Jungkook nods, smiling sadly. 

“[Y/N] shouldn’t trust us so blindly sometimes. Of course, I was gonna read it right when she gave it to me.”

Taehyung shook his head, feigning disappointment.

“Did you cry?”

Jungkook smirked.

“I held it in when I first read it,” he started, a blush forming in his cheeks, “but when I was in the shower afterward I started fucking sobbing. You’ll probably start crying after the first word.”

Taehyung chuckled lightly, punching Jungkook in the shoulder.

“I’m gonna cry, alright...” he zones out, opening the envelope and unfolding the large piece of paper. He bit his lip lightly, too afraid to read it silently. With shaky hands, he announced the words out loud to ease his mind just a bit.

Truth be told, I tried to make myself hate you, Kim Taehyung. When I found out I got Hanahaki after you kissed me on my cheek, I was so pissed that I let myself fall for you.

The two boys laugh softly. Sure enough, Taehyung was already biting back tears that were starting to form. His heart sank with each word he enunciated, but he continued on with a wavering voice.

I know the kind of person you are, Tae and for the hundredth time: no, I don’t blame you. You’re gonna spend the rest of eternity hating yourself if I don’t keep repeating this. Yeah, it was annoying that you always tried to flirt with my friends, but I doubt you knowing my feelings would have stopped that.

Jungkook let out a cackle, surprised that you were staying light-hearted in your letter to him.

“She’s right, you know.”

Taehyung ignored his words, reading further.

You wouldn’t be the Taehyung I’d fallen in love with if you weren’t overly flirtatious and clingy. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this directly, but I love you Taehyung. I love you so fucking much. You gave me so much hope, so much light, and so much to live for. 

Taehyung felt something else well up in him that was neither tears nor guilt- something foreign.

I’m sad I can’t see the three of us grow old together or flourish in our future careers, but I know that you’ll get through the struggles of adult life as long as you and Jungkook stay together. 

Jungkook laughs to himself and Taehyung glares up at him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing’s funny, man,” Jungkook sighs to the ceiling. “I’m just realizing how fucked up this all is.”

Tae if I was being really honest with you... I don’t want to die. I really don’t. I was starting to think that you fell in love with me because I didn’t throw up flowers yesterday or the day before that, but it’s just the suppressants. There’s still a small hope that you’d fall in love with me and that we could make things work out, but the chances of it happening are so slim. I’ve learned to accept it by now... that you won’t love me back.

I wanted you to read this letter after I pass away because I didn’t want your feelings to waiver, for you to trick yourself into loving me only to end up hating me later on. My dad fell out of love with my mom and... she was never the same after that. I don’t want that to be us Tae. I want us to have only good memories of each other.

Jungkook patted Taehyung’s back, as he struggled to read with the tears in his eyes. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t bear this pain any longer.

I’ll love you even after death, Taehyung, just as much as I love you now. And for the hundredth and one time: no, I do not blame you. I can’t blame you for the beautiful flowers that I now know the names of by heart and I can’t blame you for not loving me back. I can’t blame you for anything Tae. I love you and that’s all that matters. I want you to know, most of all, that I didn’t die for you- I died for myself. I love you Tae. 

Sincerely,

Your Guardian Angel :)

Taehyung didn’t quite know when he had stopped reading the letter and started to sink to the ground, balled up in a puddle of his own tears. Jungkook had read the rest towards the end. He too was a wreck, but he hid it well.

“I can’t fucking do it Jungkook,” he sobs. “I don’t think I can live without her.”

Jungkook crouched in front of him, not really knowing how to comfort a crying Taehyung. This was the first time he’d ever seen him show this much emotion besides their big fight a few days ago.

“Taehyung,” he starts firmly, “you need to tell me the truth right now.”

“What?” Taehyung asks, confusion written all over his face.

“Promise me you won’t run away after what I’m about to tell you.”

Taehyung looked at him confusingly but wiped his tears away to get a better look at Jungkook. He was serious.

“O-okay. I promise?”

Jungkook sighed out in relief and pulled Taehyung up.

“The nurse told me [Y/N] hasn’t been on suppressants for a few days now,” he says seriously. “I’m registered as her guardian so they thought it was best if I told her that they stopped lacing it into her meals. It was to prep her for her death.”

“So what does this have to do with me?”

“Taehyung, how are you not getting this?” Jungkook frustratingly scolds. “She hasn’t been throwing up and she hasn’t taken medication. I know it’s fucked up I’m asking you now, but I need you to go see her.”

Nothing seemed to click in Taehyung’s brain. Jungkook was always the fastest thinker out of them. He didn’t really know why he was speaking in such cryptic terms anyway.

“Why?” 

“Because if what I think is true,” Jungkook says slowly, “then [Y/N] isn’t going to die.”

Taehyung was about to speak, confusion even more evident in his expression.

“What the hell are you talking about Jung-”

“I think you’re in love with her.”

The world seemed to stop at that second. Nothing made sense and yet everything did. The gears were moving in Taehyung’s brain, but it still felt like he didn’t know the full gist of what Jungkook was trying to tell him.

“Huh?”

“I know how fucked up it sounds that you started miraculously liking her after you found out she was dying, but all that matters to me now is that you accept her love so that she recovers faster. Tell me- am I wrong?”

Taehyung’s head was spinning and he was having trouble forming a sentence.

“I- I don’t know. I haven’t been in love before, how the fuck am I supposed to know?”

Jungkook sighed deeply.

“Well I’m here to tell you now: I’m pretty sure she didn’t fall out of love with you all on her own and it’s not the work of suppressants that had her recover. I’m not trying to convince you that you fell in love with her, but I’m pretty sure you did.”

Taehyung shook his head profusely.

“I think we’re just not thinking through this logically-”

“When have you ever been logical?”

He groaned and buried his face into his palms. Jungkook was right.

“So what should I do if I actually like her?” he says. “I feel like this is too sudden. [Y/N]’s gonna be suspicious-”

“Just tell her,” Jungkook replies sternly. “Don’t run away and just tell [Y/N]. Whatever happens, happens. We have nothing left to lose except her.”

“If I tell her I love her and I actually don’t, that would just hurt her more.”

“That’s impossible,” Jungkook starts, “because she’d be throwing up flowers by now if you didn’t.”

Taehyung nods, but he’s still not quite convinced. He stands up from his spot and makes a beeline to the elevator, figuring he should just do it without thinking about it too much. 

Jungkook doesn’t follow after him. He knows that you two are probably better off talking this out than with him butting into the conversation. He rolls up his sleeve to see a beautiful tattoo he had drawn on his wrist just days ago. Flowers.

He drew it in remembrance of you.

—

As you were about to fall asleep to the sound of your own heart monitor, a loud thunk of the door opening had alerted you to open your eyes. Taehyung stood in the doorway, panting like a mad man as he walked closer to your bed.

“Tae-”

“We need to talk.”

It was then that you realized that he was clutching something in his fist. A piece of paper, wrinkled and smudged with black ink. 

“You read it?” you ask disappointingly. It was a little embarrassing now, knowing that he’d seen everything you wanted to say to him after your death. You had a hard time looking at him in the eye.

“I couldn’t wait,” he pants, now next to your bed. “It’s not like I would have ever gotten a chance to read it otherwise.”

You tilt your head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung sat on your bed, touching your forearm lightly before collecting his thoughts.

“You’re not going to die, [Y/N],” he says with a glint in his eyes.

You roll your eyes at him.

“I’m not getting the surgery, Tae. It’s already too late for-”

“When was the last time you threw up flowers?”

You furrowed your brows.

“A few days ago. Why?”

He inches closer to you so that he could get a better look at your face. He was gauging your reaction just in case he said anything too uncomfortable. You were looking a lot less sick than yesterday and it crossed out his suspicions a tiny bit.

“Do you know why you haven’t been getting them?”

“Because I’m on suppressants?” you say as if it was an obvious fact.

Taehyung shook his head and finally laid the letter on the bedside table. He clutched both of your palms into his.

“I think,” he stumbles, “I- I think I fell in love with you.”

You looked at him with a deadpan gaze. You pulled yourself away from his grasp. How dare he?

“That’s not funny, Tae. Why the fuck would you even joke about something like that?”

“I do, [Y/N]. I love you.”

It felt so right to say out loud. It felt like the suffocation he was feeling for the past few days had been lifted off of his chest and into the clouds. All of his doubts were erased from his memory. 

“Tae, saying it again isn’t going to-”

“I love you,” he says a little louder this time, clutching you even closer. Your eyes shined from tears threatening to spill over. He was being cruel- too cruel. It was unlike him.

“Tae, seriously I’m getting-”

“I love you,” he repeats, closing the distance between you and him, his lips gently touching yours. He pulls away and his breath is taken away with the tears that started falling from your eyes. He wiped them away from your cheeks. This was the reaction he was exactly expecting from you, but all he can do now is reassure you so that you don’t lash out on him.

“A-are you serious?” you say through bated breaths. “You’re not joking are you?”

He shakes his head with a grin.

“I think it took me a while to realize, but I do. Genuinely.”

You had started to cry harder, but it wasn’t out of happiness. You were holding something back. After all of the pain you went through and you finally got what you wanted... it just didn’t feel real. His heart hurt at the sight of you. 

“Tae,” you struggle to say. “This isn’t what I wanted. I... I didn’t want you to force yourself into anything or to feel sorry for me-”

“That’s not it, [Y/N],” he reassures, pushing a stray piece of your hair and tucking it behind your ear. “No one’s forcing me.”

“But still-”

He shushed you with a peck. It felt liberating being able to kiss you freely and he couldn’t stop himself with how cutely you pouted your lips. How could he have not seen how irresistible you were before?

“I wish I realized it sooner,” he says sadly. “That way you wouldn’t have to suffer as much.”

You shake your head, easing your breath.

“I don’t know about this, Tae. I’m just having a lot of doubts,” you mutter.

“And I’ll get rid of those doubts sooner or later,” he kisses your hands. “I’m new to this whole love thing so you need to tell me if I’m overstepping anything alright?”

You chuckle lightly. Your heart could burst right out of your chest at how lovingly he was looking at you. For the past few days he’s done that- just look at you with a smile and make your heart beat fast for no reason. The effects this man had on you...

“You’re not gonna die,” he says softly. “I’m not going to lose you.”

You purse your lips.

“I don’t know what to say, Tae...”

He sits a little closer to you and softly holds your face into his palms.

“Say it back.”

You were caught off guard, flustered with his words. You fiddle with your fingers as you struggle to get the words out. He gazed at you expectantly.

“I-I love you too.”

Taehyung smirked and pulled you in. Your heart monitor picked up in speed as he kissed you deeply. The flower tattoos on your arm were dotted with goosebumps, your breath taken away by Taehyung.

He pulled away first but peppered you with more kisses around your face. His forehead leaned against yours as he giggles at your flustered expression. The stars were in his eyes and he admired how gorgeous you looked at that moment.

“Now tell me are there flowers in your stomach?” he asks teasingly as if he didn’t just read your would-be last words a while ago.

You chuckled lightly.

“No flowers,” you intertwine your hands with his. “Just butterflies.”

—

A/N: Thank you again to @guksflavor for requesting this! If you guys want to commission stories for me to write, please read my rules page and find the link to my ko-fi on my blog! I don’t really do fluff endings but I thought this was a cute way to end things off. How do y'all like it? No more tears for this chapter, I hope. Thank you all again for the support and I appreciate all types of feedback for my stories!!

[emgkheadcannons]

I love that Pete Davidson is besties with both Kelly and John Mulany, among others. John is definitely the dad of the group. Now imagine the three of them hanging out plus Em.

Kelly doesn’t do hard drugs anymore, mostly weed and mushrooms. He doesn’t do either of these when he is with Em though. When he’s with Pete is another story.

It is really awkward at the start. First Pete isn’t very fond of Eminem. He is cool around him because of Kelly dating him, but still doesn’t really like the guy. Second, Em is still beefing with Nick Cannon, who Pete is friends with.

The evening started out fine. Pete was in LA for a show he was doing with John Mulany. Kelly and Em were in town for business. Kelly and Pete are hanging out together one night, watching some movies, when they decide to do mushrooms. Something they have done before. Unlike before they decided to watch Bird Box. It does not go as they planned.

“Dude this movie is tight.”

“I know right.”

A few minutes later.

“So the demon things aren’t real, right?” Pete asks, pulling his snuggie closer.

“No, they’re not real.” Pete starts to relax at Kelly’s response, “At least, I don’t think they are.”

“What do you mean you don’t think? Are they real or not?”

“Dude I don’t know. I didn’t write this.”

“You were raised by Christianmissionaries.”

“What does that have to do with Bird Box demons?”

“Were they in the bible?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t read it.”

“Fuck.”

A loud crash came from the tv making them both jump.

“Dude who would know this shit?”

“Wait isn’t Mulaney Catholic or something? Wouldn’t he know?”

“Yeah you’re right. I’ll text him.”

Pete grabs his phone and types out a text to John. About a minute later he gets a reply.

“John says no.”

“That’s a relief.” Kelly says, before tensing up. “Unless he is one of them.”

“Oh shit, you’re right.”

“We need a bird.”

*knock*knock*knock*

Both of them turn to the door.

“Hey Pete you okay?Your text was a little strange.”

“Dude what do we do?”

“I don’t know, you were then one in the movie.”

“Fuck you’re right. OKay well he’s not crazy, so if he looked at the demon then he would have killed himself, so he should be okay.”

“Yeah okay. That’s right.”

Pete gets up to open the door, pulling John in quickly and relocking it.

Seeing the empty bag of shrooms, and the other two occupants of the room John crosses his arms. “Alright you two what is going on here?”

“We were hanging out, and decided to do some shrooms and watch a Bird Box but what if the demons are real.” Pete explains really fast.

“What?”

“WHat if the eye demons that make you kill yourself are real?” Kelly replys.

“Hold on. You two want to know if the fictional monsters from this movie are real?”

“Yes.”

“No. The monsters from Bird Box are not real.”

Both Pete, and Kelly relax, but then Pete asks “What about IT? Is he real?”

“Oh fuck. He’s not real, is he?”

Both turn to John again.

“This is not how I saw my night going.”

******

Em was out to dinner with Fifty when he got a text.

‘Hello. This is John. Colson and Pete did shrooms, and are having a bad trip. If you could please come to Pete’s and help, I would be most grateful.’

Rereading the text Em is confused. He knew Kelly was going to hang with Pete, but who is this John, and how did he get his number.

Fifty looks over, reading the text. “Sounds like your boy needs you.”

“Yeah sorry for cutting this short.”

“No worry. I’ll be in Detroit the week after next, we can hang out then.”

“Sounds good.”

******

When Em gets to Pete’s hotel room, he is greeted by a tall lanky man in a set of pajamas, who looked vaguely familiar.

“Oh, good. You’re here.” The tall man said, before moving aside to let Em in.

Em follows the man into the room where he sees two large lumps on one of the beds, hiding under the covers.

“So, as you can see, we have a problem.” The man in the pajamas says as he gestured toward the lumps.

“Who are you?” Em asks.

“Oh, where are my manners. I am John Mulany, and those two lumps are Pete Davidson, and Colson Baker, a.k.a. Machine Gun Kelly.”

From under the blankets Em hears, “Fuck Eminem”, before, what looks like, one of the lumps hitting the other one.

“Get your own. Em’s mine.”

“He sucks.”

“Yeah, me.”

Em face palms, shaking his head, while John just sighs heavily.

“Alright boys. That’s enough.” Turning back to Em, John continues. “So, as I said in my text, these two decided to do shrooms, but then they choose to watch Bird Box, which is a great movie, but a scary one. Now they are refusing to come out from under the covers, worried that something is going to eat them.”

Em can’t tell if Mulaney is messing with him or not. The deadpan delivery of that absurd story is impressive, and would be hard to believe, if his boyfriend and his best friend weren’t currently hiding under some blankets, with a paused movie on the tv. Sighing Em resigns himself that this is his life, takes his shoes off, and moves over to the lump he thinks is Kelly.

“Hey, Colson what are you doing under there?”

The lump close to him shifts. “Hiding.”

“Okay. Why are you hiding?”

“Because we don’t know which monsters are real and which ones are fake.”

“And no one else has been able to answer us.” Pete pipes in.

Tired already of everything, Em pulls the covers down, off both of them, who immediately cover their eyes. Sighing Em puts one arm under Kelly’s legs the other going around his back, lifting him up, trying to take him to the empty bed.

“Pete they’re taking me!” Kelly yells, reaching for his friend. Pete tries to help Kelly, his eyes still covered with one arm, but gets tangled up in the blankets, nearly falling off the bed.

“Give me my friend back.” Pete says, one arm flailing around.

John pulls back the covers on the bed Em is heading to, allowing the older rapper to get in with the blond. He then goes over to help a struggling Pete. Em makes himself comfy, propped up against some pillows, legs stretched out in front of him, and Kelly laying on top of him, hiding his face in Em’s chest. Em pulls the covers over them, before looking for the remote. John is in a similar position except he has Pete curled into his side, hiding his face in John’s shoulder.

They can hear Pete mumbling something into John’s shoulder, but neither can really make out what he is saying.

Em grabs the remote, thankful it’s identical to the one he has at home, and clicks the netflix button, going back to the home page.

“Anything in particular you want to watch? Nothing scary, or suspenseful.”

John thinks it over, before spying something interesting on the recommended list. “Yes that one. Second from the end.”

“Mean Girls? What is it?” Em asks.

Kelly and Pete, both pop their heads up at the name of the movie. Em decides that it’s a good sign and hits play.

They end up watching a few movies. The shrooms wear off after a while. Kelly is very embarrassed over the night's events. Usually he and Pete don’t get paranoid and scared of stupid things. They also don’t usually watch suspenseful or scary movies, when they do shrooms. Also that Em now knows about his love of Mean Girls.

Pete is kinda pissed that Em came and crashed his night with Kelly but gets why. Also cuddling with John was super nice. He should cuddle with his friends more often. He actually snuggles down and decides that this is how he wants to fall asleep, cuddled up to someone he trusts.

John wishes that he could use this story in his stand-up so badly. Maybe if Eminem and Machine Gun Kelly go public he can. He is glad he could help Pete and Kelly, but he wishes he met Eminem under better circumstances. Also he never knew Pete was so cuddly. He can’t wait to tell his wife.

Em is a little mad at Kelly for doing shrooms. They have talked about it before and he knows Kelly doesn’t do them often, but this episode makes him really wish he didn’t do them at all. He also needs to talk to Pete and John about not putting this in their stand up, at least for now.

“Not that this isn’t fun and all, but I don’t want to have a sleepover.” Em says as he gets up. Looking at Kelly, he continues. “You can stay here and meet me for breakfast in the morning or come back with me.”

Kelly looks at Pete, all cuddled up with John, and then back at Em. He might be embarrassed, and Em might talk to him about using shrooms, but he really wants to continue cuddling with him.

“I’m coming with you. Night Pete. Night John.”

Pete mumbles a sleepy reply.

“Good night Kelly. Goodnight Mr. Eminem. It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah nice meeting you too. Don’t tell anyone about this.”

John nods his head. “Not a word.”

Em nods back, grabs Kelly’s hand and heads to the door. He stops right before opening it. “I’ll text you the time and location for breakfast if you want to come.”

John lights up, while Pete groans. “We would be delighted.”

This is how Em ended up babysitting his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s friend, who are high on shrooms, with John Mulaney, seeing Mean Girls for the first time. Em likes Clueless better.

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

The Not-So Worst Day of Peter’s Life

This fic is a part of the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange for @fromsiberia

                      Rating: General            Warnings: N/A   

I enjoyed writing this - I hope you enjoy reading it! 

Peter takes a class trip to Stark Industries. What could go wrong (or right)?

Read on ao3

“So, we have a field trip planned,” Peter mentions casually while eating lunch on Sunday.

 Tony swallows the food in his mouth, “Great kid. When and where?”

 “It’s this Friday, and it’s at Stark Industries,” Peter’s mouth contorts into a strained smile. “Did you do this?”

 “I did not, cross my heart and hope to die,” Tony runs a finger across his sternum. “It was probably someone in our HR department. Why, you don’t want to go?”

 “it just puts me in a tough spot because I’m ‘working’ here,” Peter makes finger quotations, “and no one believes me but Ned and MJ, but that’s because they know my alter ego.”

 “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to call out sick and not go in that day? Or do you want me to acknowledge you and just rave about your intelligence? I’m good with that, too.”

 “No! Just do what you normally do. If we run into you, you can just say hi to me to prove you know me, but I don’t need a whole letter of recommendation or anything!” Peter scoffs.

 Tony nods understandingly, “I will be the ultimate professional, but I cannot speak for Happy. Or Bucky, if he’s around.”

“If I’m around where?” Bucky saunters into the room, dropping a kiss on Tony’s cheek.

 “Speak of the devil,” Tony smirks. “Peter’s class is going to SI on Friday for a field trip.”

 Bucky’s eyes glitter. “Good to know.” He grabs a water bottle from the fridge and walks back out. “Going for a run with Steve.”

 “Make sure you shower afterwards!” Tony yells after him.

 Peter turns on Tony as soon as Bucky leaves, “Please don’t let him embarrass me.”

 “I will do what I can,” Tony ruffles Peter’s head. Standing up, he takes his plate and sticks it in the dishwasher. “Hey, I just got some of that stretchy material in. Wanna test it?”

 Peter eagerly follows him into the lab.

 +++++++++++++++++++

“So, Tony didn’t set it up?” Ned asks, biting into his pizza.

 “No, he had no idea. I guess they do field trip things fairly often, so they just have someone in HR schedule them.” Peter wrinkles his nose. “Really Ned? Pineapple and sweet peppers? Ugh, that’s nasty.”

 “You just have boring tastes, extra-cheese man.”

 MJ shakes her head, “Bacon’s where it’s at.”

 Peter and Ned look at each other and shrug. Neither of them can refute the fact that bacon is one of the better pizza toppings.

 “So, Penis, are you going on the field trip on Friday?” Flash Thompson walks up to stand at the end of their table. “I wouldn’t blame you for not going, you know, because it’s going to be so embarrassing for you when we all confirm that your Stark Internship is all in your imagination. Right guys?” Flash’s little posse of friends all agree and laugh.

 “I’m going.” Peter smiles at Flash.

 “Alright. It’s your funeral,” Flash replies then turns to his crowd. “IF we see Tony Stark, maybe he can tell us about Spiderman! Unlike this idiot here, Spiderman actually works with Iron Man! He’s like the coolest superhero out there. Okay, let’s go. Bye losers!” He does a little wave at Peter’s table. Peter gives him a thumbs up in response.

 “I mean, it’s funny to me that Flash loves you and hates you, but why do you put up with that?” MJ comments.

Peter shrugs, “It doesn’t really bother me. If he wants to run his mouth, trying to make me feel small, let him. At least he’s doing it to me, and not someone who will actually be affected by it. By the way, tomorrow night, we’re watching Clueless. Bucky hasn’t seen too many rom-coms, and I mean to change that. Tony said you are welcome to come. He’s making like six different types of popcorn.”

 “I’m in.” MJ nods as Ned raises his hand and waves it to show he also will be there.

 The bell rings to indicate the end of lunch break, and the trio splits up to go to their respective classes.

 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tony meets Peter when he gets to the Tower after rotations. “Hey Pete, I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you that Harley’s going to be here this week.”

 ‘Oh ok, maybe we can finish that project now that… OH NO! Don’t tell me he’s going to be at SI on Friday!” Peter groans as Tony grimaces.

 “Unfortunately, he will be, and you know there’s nothing I can do to stop him once he’s on a warpath.”

 “My life is over,” Peter mourns. “Why can’t his college have normal spring break just like everybody else?”

 “Probably because the universe is just bent on screwing you over.” Peter hates just how amused Tony sounds.

 He folds his arms. “You’re the worst dad ever.”

 “Sure son. Want to talk it over a game of catch?” Tony has his biggest shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

 Peter shakes his head. “No, I just remembered. Aunt May said she’s going to have supper ready at 6:30 so I got to go. Love you, Dad.” He quickly hugs Tony then runs out the door.

 “Love you, too kid!” Tony calls after him.

 “Look at you, being less and less emotionally stunted as the days go by,” Rhodey comments from the doorway.  “I guess Barnes and the kid are doing you good.”

 “Oh, shut it, platypus.” Tony shoots back good-humoredly. “You were the one who started the process.”

 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tuesday night, dubbed “Movie Night,” comes, and Tony, Bucky, Peter, Harley, Ned, and MJ are watching Clueless on Tony’s huge theater-sized TV. JARVIS turns on Clueless, and everyone soon gets lost into the hard high-school life of one Cher Horowitz.

 Peter sympathizes with Cher’s driving issues as he also had a hard time learning to drive. He cringes, thinking of the time he had to drive Flash’s father’s car to chase Liz’s dad. Tony shudders at the fashion, or lack thereof, of the 90’s.

 When the movie ends, Harley points out that although Cher’s last name is supposedly Horowitz, her report card is labelled as Cher Hamilton. MJ tells them she doesn’t like that Josh is Cher’s step-brother – it just weirds her out. Peter asks Bucky what he thought of the movie.

 Bucky thinks about it for a second then asks, “Isn’t this basically modern-day Emma?”

 “Emma?”

 “Yea, the Jane Austen novel. Like, Cher is clearly Emma. She’s so happy she got Dionne together with Murray so she thinks she’s good at this stuff. She takes Tai in order to help her become popular. That means Tai is Harriet Smith. Cher tries to set her up with Elton, whose name is taken straight from Emma – Mr. Elton. Cher thinks she’s in love with Christian, who is pulled from Frank Churchill. The only difference here is that Christian is gay, not already engaged to Jane Fairfax. Josh, of course, is Mr. Knightley, except that he’s Cher’s stepbrother, not a family friend. Because Elton says he’s in love with Cher, not Tai, Tai feels unwanted. When Josh starts showing her attention because Cher asked him to, Tai starts to fall for him just as Cher realizes she’s in love with him. This is equal to the scenes where Mr. Knightley dances with Harriet when Mr. Elton snubs her. Harriet believes he is interested whereas he’s only doing Emma a favor. Harriet tells Emma that she thinks she loves Knightley. As a result, Emma gets a reality check. In the end, Tai dates the skater boy Travis, who is the modern-day Robert Martin, deemed as unworthy by Cher/Emma.” He pauses when he sees everyone just staring at him, open-mouthed. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“Oh my gosh,” MJ whispers. “I think I love him.”

 “Sorry, he’s mine,” Tony wraps his arms around Bucky. “Bucky, darling, I don’t know because I don’t read mushy stuff like Jane Austen, but based on MJ’s reaction, you must have hit the nail on the head.”

 Bucky nuzzles Tony’s cheek with his nose until Harley fake gags, “There are children present!”

 “The book is better, but the movie was ok,” Bucky wrinkles his nose.

 Peter clutches his chest, “It’s a rom-com classic! I can’t believe it!” He dramatically falls off the couch onto the floor, acting as if his heart had failed him.

 “Oh, no, we lost him. What ever shall we do?” Harley deadpans, stuffing a pillow on Peter’s face and holding it there until Peter rolls over.

 “You are all a bunch of children,” Tony laughs. “Honey, don’t you feel like the parent of some very unruly children.”

 Bucky snorts, “Gee, I wonder who they got it from.”

 “Gasp. Betrayed by my own boyfriend. Now I have no one in the cruel, cold world.” Tony splays a hand across his arc reactor. “Woe is me.”

 All too soon, though, it was time to go home, and Peter wishes all his nights could be like this. As Peter leaves one last lingering look at Tony and Bucky on the couch, he feels Harley nudge him. “Hey, at least you can leave,” the blond nineteen-year-old grins. “I’m going to have to deal with them, and I don’t think they’re going to wait until they get to their room to start. Seriously, I may have to gouge my eyes out by the end of the week.”

 Peter pats Harley on the shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll manage. Have a good night.”

 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter spends Wednesday night with Aunt May, but Tony asks for his help in the SI lab on Thursday. Two hours into working on improving Peter’s suit, Peter admits, “I’m a little nervous about tomorrow.”

 Tony immediately puts down his tools, “Ok… talk to me. What’s wrong?”

 “I just… don’t know what’s going to happen, and I don’t want to make a big deal about the whole internship. Like, I don’t even care if they don’t believe me. Now it either becomes a big deal, or they'll all still think I’m a liar. And what if someone makes the Spiderman connection?”

 “Hey, kid. You'll be fine, but if you don’t want to go, don’t go. You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone. I’ll support you with whatever you choose.  And the Spiderman thing? I don’t think anyone’s going connect the dots. They'll probably think Harles is Spiderman before you." Tony knocks his shoulder. “All I’m saying is I will be happy to see you if you decide to go, and I would never be ashamed of being seen with you. I’ve basically adopted you. If you want to add fuel to the flames, I can even call you son.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

 “No! Please don’t! I don’t need that as well.” Peter groans.

 “Ok ok fine!” Tony holds up his hands. “But let me know if you need me to be a school emergency contact. I know May’s been having longer shifts, but she won’t accept my help.”

 “She’s a strong independent woman, Tony. She doesn’t need you.”  Peter jabs playfully.

 “No she does not. I admire her. The only person I admire more than her is Pepper. And I’ve met Thor, Peter.”

 Peter gasps dramatically, “Don’t diss on my Thor!”

 When Peter goes to leave that night, Tony pulls him into a hug. “Love ya, son.”

 “Love you, too, dad.” Peter’s heart fills with happiness. He supposes tomorrow won’t be too bad.

 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Friday comes, and May wakes Peter up for his class trip. He groans but gets up. “Ugh. Today is going to be a train wreck.” He tells her.

 “You know, you don’t have to go on your class trip,” May remarks, looked amused.

 “Yea, I know, but I feel like I should just go.”

 Peter gets to school, and Flash seems to be waiting for him. “Oh, hey guys. Here he is! We’re going to see today just how pathetic Parker is. I hope you’re ready.” Flash smirks at him.

 “Oh, believe me, I am not ready for this trip,” Peter concedes, “but for reasons that are so much different than what you’re thinking.”

 “Ok, boys, enough fighting. It’s time to go,” Mr. Harrington calls from the front of the classroom. “Everyone, pair up and get on the bus.”

 Peter and Ned fall in line together, followed by MJ and Betty. The pretty blonde taps Peter on the shoulder. “Hey Peter, for what it’s worth, I believe you.”

 “Thanks Betty! I appreciate it.” Peter smiles back at her.

 The four of them sit together in the back of the bus, ignoring all the chaos going on in front of them. “It gets worse,” Peter confides to Ned, “Harley’s gonna be there. You know it’s his goal in life to make me as uncomfortable as possible.”

 “Relax, Pete, he’s like your brother. That’s what family’s for.”

 The bus ride takes approximately thirty minutes to get to Stark Industries. Once everyone is out and lined up two by two, Mr. Harrington leads them up to the facility. He fumbles with the paperwork as he walks up to a security guard. Once the guard is satisfied, he takes them in to the front desk. Bambi is working the desk, as usual. She hands out visitor’s cards to every member of the party, and her face brightens when she sees Peter. “Oh, hi Peter! I didn’t realize this was your class. You should just be showing them around, don’t you think?” She winks at him.

 Peter loves Bambi. She treats him like her own grandchildren. “Hi, Bambi. It’s good to see you. Today, I think I’m just following along with the rest of them.”

 As the rest of the class had already left the receptionist desk to wait for their tour guide, no one heard Peter and Bambi’s interaction. Mr. Harrington calls him over, and Flash looks at him suspiciously. “What, did you ask her to act like she knew you?”

 “No, she just knows me. That’s Bambi.”

“No shit. Isn’t that what her name tag read?” Flash retorts, and Peter mentally nods. Flash does have a point there.

 “Midtown High?” A voice says, and Peter freezes. No. He knows that voice. He turns slowly to find that his fear is, in fact, reality. “Hello, my name is Harley Keener. I’m a part-time intern of Tony Stark, and I will be your tour guide today. Does anyone have any questions before we start?”

 Annabelle raises her hand, “Will we see Tony Stark or Pepper Potts today?”

 “You are in luck, because Tony himself instructed that I show you his lab today. Ms. Potts is the CEO of the company, so I can’t really say if we will see her or not. She is a very busy woman.” Harley smiles. Peter feels his eyes on him, and when Peter looks up, Harley’s smile becomes a smirk. Peter’s spidey-senses tingle with a sense of foreboding.

 Flash nudges Peter, “Hey Porker, that is what someone who interns for Tony Stark would look like. He’s mature and actually attractive… unlike you.”

 “You think he’s mature? He’s the devil incarnate. The only reason he is leading this tour is because he wants to make my life miserable,” Peter hisses.

 Flash scoffs, but he just rejoins his partner at the front of the line.

 “Hey, kid.” Harley addresses Flash. “I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to stay with your partner in a two-by-two line unless I say you can spread out. I don’t want to cause problems, but I’m sure you understand that we have precautions that we must take in order to let guided tours through here.” Peter holds in a laugh when Flash looks properly chastised.

 Ned leans close and says, “And that’s where family has your back as well, even after you call them ‘the Devil incarnate.’”

 Harley leads them through department after department, explaining how each of them work. After explaining, he would ask if anyone had any questions. Finally, on the sixth floor, Flash can’t resist any longer. “I have to ask, Mr. Keener, do you know anyone by the name of Peter Parker?”

 “You mean Tony’s other intern? Yea I know him. He’s a little shit most of the time, but yea. Any other questions?”

 Everyone in the class turns back to Peter, who can’t help but smile smugly. “I have a question,” Peter asks, “Why did you decide to guide this tour? This isn’t your normal job here.”

 The blood drains from Peter’s face when Harley just smiles and says, “It was something I wanted to do, and Tony owed me that favor after he lost the bet.”

 “Oh crap.” The foreboding tingles are back.

 Mr. Harrington looks confused, “I’m sorry. I guess you two know each other?”

 “Yes, we have worked together on many a project with Mr. Stark,” Harley informs him. “We just have a little harmless rivalry – like to poke fun at each other.”

 Flash looks like he’s just going to faint. Peter wants to laugh at him, but he’s mature. He’ll laugh about it later.

 Harley continues, “Now, if no one has any questions about this department, I will take you up to the next floor. Please be warned, this is Tony Stark’s R&D floor. We will have to confiscate any phones as we do not allow any videos and pictures on this floor.” They climb the stairs. “Before we go in, please hand all your phones and/or recording devices to Alessia here. She will return them to you once we come back out of this room.”

 Once everyone forks over their technology, Harley puts his hand on the scanner, and the doors open. “Please line up against the wall, and don’t touch anything.” He tells them.

 Peter groans aloud when he sees the view in front of him. Bucky frickin’ Barnes is sitting on the frickin’ table where Tony is fixing his frickin’ arm! He knows Bucky and Harley have something up their sleeve.

 “You ok there, Parker?” Harley asks, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

 “Yeah. I’m great.” Peter grits out.

 Tony and Bucky seem to be in their own little world because neither of them looks up. Tony closes a plate on Bucky’s arm and runs his hand down the arm until he clasps Bucky’s hand in his own. Bucky touches Tony’s face with his right arm, and Harley clears his throat loudly. Bucky slowly drops his hand, and they both turn to look at the class, Bucky’s eyes seeking Peter out.

 Tony smiles his press smile, “Welcome, guys, gals, and non-binary pals to where the magic happens. This lab here is my personal lab, and very few people have access to this select lab. Consider yourselves lucky. Sergeant Barnes here just had some problems with his arm, and, as I was working here today, came to visit me. If you see over there, I have my helper bots.” Tony walks over to ELL-E. “This darling here is one of my newer ones. Say hi, ELL-E!” Everyone awws when she raises her claw and waves. “I have three of these at home, all built when I was in college. Since I work most days at the tower, I keep them there. DUM-E was the first AI bot I ever made. He’s a mess, though. That’s why his name’s DUM-E.” He claps his hands together. “Now does anyone have any questions… actually, wait, I have a question for you kids. We are in the process in updating the Stark phone. Does anyone here own one, and if so, do you have any suggestions in improving it?”

 Raoul raises his hand, “Well, I must say I do love the latest update… the easy access to setting up disability features really helped my mom use her phone better. She used to make one of us use her phone for her because most phones either don’t have the features or make it hard to find where to turn them on.”

 “Thank you. Fun fact – that update was drawn up and coded by your very own classmate over there, one Mr. Peter Parker. I don’t know how much of a bragger he is – I sure was one when I was his age – but that young man is brilliant. I am honored to have him working here as an intern.” Tony sends a smile towards Peter.

 Flash raises his hand, “Hi, so if Peter interns for you, and you mostly work from the tower, does that mean Peter works at Stark Tower around all the superheroes?”

 “Yup,” Tony smiles. “To be honest, I think he had the biggest freak out when he met Bucky over here… or maybe Thor. Sorry, Buck, I think Thor is his favorite.”

 A few other students raise their hands to ask questions, and Peter zones out. A loud clapping sound wakes him from his reverie.

 “I hate to interrupt, but it’s almost time for lunch,” Harley speaks up. “Do you want me to take them down now, or is there anything else you want to say?”

 Tony spins back around to face them, finger in the air. “I just had a brilliant idea. Why don’t you join me and Sergeant Barnes for lunch? We’re going down to the cafeteria. Just order what you want on my dime. We’ll accompany you down in a minute.”

 “Sir, you don’t have to,” Mr. Harrington sputters. “The students did all bring lunch…”

“Oh, it would be my pleasure. I have more money than I know what to do with. I insist,” Tony says. Then he smirks and says, “I know, Ms. Jones, that I should sink my money into charities and things. Please provide me with several of your choice, and I promise to make a large donation.”

 MJ’s mouth opens and closes, then she nods. “Fair enough.”

 “Ok kiddos,” Harley says, “let me take you down to the cafeteria. If you want your phones back, please make sure you pick them up from Alessia.”

 Peter and Ned are the last ones to leave the lab. Peter turns right before he walks out. Bucky and Tony wave at him. He groans, “They’re going to do something at lunch. I can feel it.”

 Five minutes later, Tony and Bucky arrive in the cafeteria, holding hands.

 “Holy shit! Are they actually together?” Adria gasps in a loud whisper.

 Ned rolls his eyes. “Of course. What, have you been living under a rock?”

 After the power couple get their food, they sit at the table where Peter and Harley are sitting. “So, did we do ok, kid?” Tony asks.

 “Well, now the whole world is going to know you’re dating. They’re not ‘just speculating’ anymore.” Peter smirks.

 “Babe, we can have a make out session on the table now!” Bucky’s eyes twinkle. “We don’t have to hide anymore!”

 “Gosh no, please, please no!” Peter groans. “Ugh. I hate you all right now.”

 “We love you, too,” Harley coos.

 Twenty minutes later, Harley and Mr. Harrington round up the class to proceed with the tour. Bucky pulls Tony up and says, “Come on, Mr. Stark, you have a meeting with Ms. Potts to which you must not be late if you know what’s good for you.” “Oh, are you giving me orders, Sergeant Barnes?” Tony asks back, and Peter knows his face is bright red.

 “Just… go.” He mutters, and he’s sure only Bucky was able to hear him. Bucky takes it as a cue to leave. He takes Tony’s arm.

 “Here is where I must take my leave,” Tony, ever the showman, bows. “Thank you all for touring my humble company, and I do hope you all have enjoyed yourselves. Bye, Petey.” He wiggles his fingers. Peter hides his face in his hands.

 “Kill me now,” he pleads to Ned.

 The rest of the field trip goes off without a hitch, and the ride back to school is peaceful. Peter imagines everyone is on Twitter going on about Winteriron or something. He realizes that Tony and Bucky did this so that no one would bother him about the internship. Once again, he is choked up to see just how caring and thoughtful Tony is.  The next person who says differently can catch these hands. He thinks.

 Peter leaves quickly when school ends so he doesn’t miss his bus that has a tendency to show up early. Tony is waiting for him at the tower when he gets there. “So how did we do today?”

 “You guys were embarrassing, but I guess I’ve come to terms with it.” Peter grumbles. “That’s what family does. Thank you for taking all the attention off of me. You didn't have to go semi-public with your relationship.”

 “Let you have the spotlight? Never! Don't you know I need it all?” Tony jokes, then smiles softly. “I only did what Rhodey would’ve done to me.”

 Peter smiles, “Rhodey is a gift to this world.”

 “Peter, my dear, you are brilliant, but let me tell you, that is the smartest and most correct thing you have ever said,” Tony takes him by the shoulders. “But if you ever tell my honeybear that, I will deny it vehemently.”

 “Understood. Hey want to play a game of chess?” When Tony agrees, Peter gets the chessboard out that Wanda had given him. Apparently, it had belonged to her father. Peter just likes the glass pieces.

  Epilogue

On Monday, Flash apologizes to him when they return to school. “Hey Parker, I… uh… I’m sorry for all that shit I said about you. I guess it just seemed unreal, and I shouldn’t have made fun of you like that.”

 “Yea, you shouldn’t have. Being a dick doesn’t make you cool; it just makes you look like a dick. But I do understand. My life is pretty surreal. No harm done – just don’t do it anymore to anyone.” Peter tells him.

 Flash nods, “Yea, I know. So, have you met Spiderman? Is he as cool as he seems?”

 “Nah, I hate him. He’s a total loser. He once stole my ice cream sandwich and didn't replace it or apologize.” Peter smiles. “Now, Thor? He’s not called a god for no reason. He would never do that.”

 Peter walks out of school much happier than usual. Maybe this field trip wasn’t so bad.

[notjonahclemence]

This post is long and I do not apologize.

Okay y’all quiz time! I’m curious, pay attention to me. Bored? Me? Never. IkeSen, IkeRev, IkeVamp or all three (max out the word limit, do it!). Feel free to answer all of these questions or whichever ones you like. 

I’ll go first and subject myself to the mortifying ordeal of being known so I hope you will do the same!

I’m gonna answer about IkeSen!

1. When did you start playing?

I have absolutely no concept of time and cannot remember dates but it was between Kenshin and Mitsunari’s routes. 

2. Who’s route did you play first/why?

Nobunaga’s route. I knew enough about the game to know his was one of the original routes and I wanted to start the game from ‘the beginning.’ 

He interested me and I could tell he was just enough of a 'bad boy’ for me to fall for. I am, unfortunately, cripplingly attracted to bastards. 

That’s why I play otome games instead of dating real men.

3. Before you started playing/towards the beginning who was your favourite guy and why? Do you have one ultimate guy or absolutely cannot choose between multiple. Kinda ties in with questions 2, 4 & 5 I guess.

Though I liked Sasuke, I’ve never been hugely romantically interested in him, I guess my favourite guy (romantically) has always been Nobunaga. And that’s terrible.

4. If their route had been out when you first started playing would you have picked somebody else? Who? Why?

*Naruto voice* SASUKE!!!! He seemed interesting, handsome, funny(ish), KIND, and was the only one who wanted to help me. 

He was also the only character in the prologue who wasn’t a jerk or Mitsunari (never been attracted to the ‘gentle angel’ type character) so he really seemed like the only option... but his route wasn’t out and thus I was forced to pick Nobunaga like I’d originally been planning anyway.

5. If that guy’s route is out now did it live up to your expectations? Why/why not?

Sasuke? Yes in both a good and bad way. The route was more interesting and entertaining than I’d expected it to be but I was not particularly into him before, I did not expect his route to change that and it didn’t. 

6. Your favourite guy NOW. Is it the same person as it was at the beginning? If not, who is it? Why? How many favourite guys have you had? Do you keep changing your mind or are you irrationally devoted to one guy? And I mean romantically, not guys you like for other reasons.

Still. Nobunaga. Send. Help.

7. Did a guy you expected to like disappoint you? Who? Why?

Masamune. I never thought he would be my all time favourite but I expected him to be one of my more liked guys both romantically and just as an interesting character. He isn’t. But it’s not like I hate the guy or anything he’s just not a fave.

8. Did a guy you never thought you’d fall for blow you away? Who? Why? Even if he didn’t ‘sweep you off your feet’ was there someone/a route you liked a lot that you didn’t expect to?

Route: Mitsunari. His route just kept me entertained, there weren’t bits where I lost interest or anything.

Person: Yukimura. I actually really liked him a lot in his route. Sweet, cute, romantic, interesting. Which is weird because I used to (and still do!!!) see him as one of the more boring characters.

Me, before *reading a different guy’s route, sees Yukimura*: Boring.

Me *reading Yukimura’s route: AAAAAAHHHHH! OMG! DJBQWHFIVIF!!!! *heart eyes*

Me, after *reading a  different guy’s route, sees Yukimura*: Boring.

9. Does one of your favourite guys not fit your ‘type?’ (Eg; your fave guys are Kenshin, Shakespeare and also Fenrir). Even if you’re only answering for one game, feel free to include guys from other games for this question.

Favourite IkeVamp guy: Shakespeare, fave IkeSen guy: Nobunaga, fave IkeRev guy: Lancelot... and Fenrir. Jerk, jerk, jerk... Fenrir.

10. Are you a romantic person or a dramatic person?

Dramatic. Even when I don’t want to be. 

11. If you’ve read both a romantic ending and a dramatic ending for the same character is there any where you noticed one being significantly better than the other?

Kenshin’s dramatic ending is so much better than his romantic one it’s not even funny.

12. Do you feel any character is significantly less loved than they deserve? Why do you think that?

Stop sleeping on Hideyoshi! Cowards!

13.  Do you feel any character is significantly MORE loved than they deserve? Why do you think that?

Kennyo. Mostly because I don’t much care for him at all so any love is Too Much.

Also Masamune, but again, it’s not like I HATE Masamune. I just don’t get the hype. Everyone’s different I guess.

14. What routes have you read? 

Nobunaga: Dramatic, romantic, eternal. Kenshin, Ieyasu, Mitsunari, Yukimura: Dramatic, romantic. Hideyoshi, Sasuke: Romantic. Shingen, Masamune: dramatic.

15. WHO’S ROUTE ARE YOU ON RIGHT NOW?! What do you think of it? Have you read it before? Etc.

Mitsuhide’s. Predictably I have not read it before. I’m enjoying it but not as much as I thought I would. Mitsuhide’s was the route I was looking forward to most so anything less than complete perfection would be a letdown. And while it’s good, it’s not complete perfection.

The main character is my real issue. She seems more childlike than I ever remember her being. Is it just me? 

Also tying into that, this is the only route I can remember her being consistently referred to as a ‘girl.’ Never a ‘woman’ always a girl. I know it happens SOMETIMES in other routes, Masamune calls you ‘lass,’ etc. But this time both the narrative and the characters seem allergic to the word ‘woman’ or something. That with her personality infantilize her a bit too much for me.

16. Fave route? Is it your favorite guy’s route or is there just a plot that you REALLY F*CKING LOVE even if the guy is not your favorite?

I actually really enjoyed Mitsunari’s route but I’m not romantically interested in him at all. Hideyoshi’s route was also a favourite.

17. Who’s route are you most looking forward to? Why? Again, you can answer for any game.

Shakespeare from IkeVamp. As for IkeSen... I’m not. Mitsuhide was the one I wanted. Don’t really like Kennyo, pretty neutral about the new guys.

18. Which guy are you most like? Why?

Jonah Clemence from IkeRev. But from IkeSen, Ieyasu. Because I’m salty. Though he’s really smart and I’m a complete dumbass.

19. Three guys/routes you love the most, why?

1. Nobunaga: bastard man, love of my life. The main character in his route does almost exactly what I’d do in her situation so it was a believable romance for me and he’s someone I could actually see myself falling for if I was magically transported into IkeSen rather than some of the others who I like but only because its a game and if I met them in real life we’d probably hate each other.

2. Shingen, another character I never expected to love, not big on flirts either, but he won me over. Still not sure why.

3. Hideyoshi. Just a damn good guy and a good route.

19. Three guys you like the most if they’re not the ones above, not necessarily the guys you fell in love with, just characters you like.

Number 1 guy is still Nobunaga both romantically and platonically.

2. Ieyasu. We’re too similar for a relationship between us to work but I adore him. That’s probably why

3. Kenshin. Funny 50% of the time, heartbreaking 50% of the time, interesting 100% of the time also just pretty to look at. An incredibly complex character with an interesting personality/relationships. But if you were to put a gun to my head and say “date Kenshin or die” I would say “pull the trigger.” Not romantically into him (or Mitsunari, or Kennyo) at all.

19. LEAST favourite three guys. Why?

1. Kennyo

2. Kennyo

3. also Kennyo

No, I don’t take constructive criticism. 

20. Any other romantic visual novels, books, games, songs, movies, tv shows or other media you would recommend?

The psy-changeling series by Nalini Singh. A paranormal romance series. There are like, 20 books and still going with it’s own worldbuilding so it’s not light reading but I thoroughly enjoyed the books and I hope others will too. It’s written in English but you can also get it in at least a handful of other languages, Spanish and German at least.

Also the song Fire meets Gasoline by Sia is Nobunaga x MC’s song.

21. MEEEE!!!!! Is there anything I’ve said that you totally agree with/blatantly disagree with? What/Why?

Well I can’t really answer this but please go ahead!

22. If you do read IkeSen, how do YOU feel about Nobunaga?

I’ve made my opinion pretty clear. If you actually answer any of these questions please feel free to put in your answer what guy/route YOU would like other people’s opinion on, that way we can get a bunch of different opinions on different guys.

Okay! That’s everything guys! If you’ve got any other questions you want to ask people add them to your answers. Other than that, I hope to see your replies *HINT HINT*

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Movie Night (ft. Cas's t-shirt)

THANK YOU for the ask, Dear Anon! I'm very flattered that you enjoyed the last one, and hope this meets your expectations! I WISH I could tag you in this, but you're on anon so.. Anyways, I went for Tuesday movie night idea, and clubbed it with a 'cute t-shirt prompt' I received and it got long AF but please leave a comment if you read and like!

*

"Ahh," Dean let out a perfect sound of exhaustion meeting the plush comfort of his couch. "It's finally Tuesday."

Sam snorted from the side, because his relationship with tuesdays had been kind of a love-hate. Not that Dean ever took him seriously - he doesn't blame his brother, really, because he wouldn't believe Dean either if he told him 'a piano crushed you to death' or any of those other ridiculous ways in which he'd died.

"If you like movie nights that much," Jack added, from the side - he was settled in one of the big chairs, looking more like a kid than he usually did. "Why don't we watch movies on other nights, too?"

Sam leaped to answer, ever ready to squeeze in a lesson for the nephilim. Good values needed to be a part of the upbringing. Children need to be taught by example. "There's an analogy we can use for this, Jack. Say, uh, Dean loves his birthday very much." Dean frowned at his brother. "Because of the pie, and the gifts, and all the beer." Dean shrugged. "So, he wishes on his birthday candles that everyday be his birthday!" Sam paused, and Dean wondered why he spoke as if he was talking to a kid, and not the strongest 2-year-old ever. "But, what happens then, is that he keeps growing a year older on each birthday - that is, everyday!"

Jack looked alarmed. "That's - bad."

"Yeah, because then I'd grow to be 60 in like a month and die." Dean added, in a deadpan.

"It won't take you thirty years to get to sixty." Sam reminded him.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean scowled and turned back to Jack. "Listen, kid, this isn't about all the good movies in the world getting finished too soon, if we watch 'em everyday. It's more about the attitude."

Jack nodded.

"Like, uh," Dean swallowed. "Like our dad always taught me and Sammy, hunters need to live a disciplined life. Can't just start watching a movie whenever, because that'll make your head feel like you're giving it permission to do crap, just like that, without a routine. That's never good for a hunter - even less so, he'd say, for the sons of an ex-Marine. Messes your head up, and takes away your ability to fixate on your decisions." Dean paused. "It's not like I've not watched movies on a Saturday because I wanted to, but the old man made sense - it's just, a routine is better to stick to."

"That sounds like a horrible amount of behavioral psychology to associate to an activity as trivial as watching a movie." Came a new voice, as Cas stood in the doorframe, his head just slightly tilted as his eyes looked straight at Dean.

Dean's exhale was caught in his lungs, and he blinked, staring at Cas with a chest full of air, and still feeling like he'd sink instead of buoyant. Cas was no longer in the trenchcoat and pants - he wore grey pyjamas which fit snug over his thighs, and a t-shirt which had to be new, because holy fucking shit.

He'd have noticed the angel walking around their bunker, wearing a black AC/DC shirt like that - simple, to someone else, perhaps - yet the way it fit over his biceps, widened his shoulders a bit more, and gave an elevated look to his chest because of the smooth descent to a toned abdomen - rendered Dean incapable of looking away. Complete with his hair sticking up at odd angles, hints of a stubble and inspecting eyes focussed on Dean, he looked like the stuff of Dean's (guilty, oh so guilty) dreams.

"H-hey, Cas." Dean cleared his throat, shifting on the larger couch to make space for him. He waved his hand dismissively to disregard all that he'd just said. "Forget about that, it was crap - come sit down." He suggested, breathlessly.

"Look who finally joined us," Sam addressed, in a normal voice and not even bothering to look up again - making Dean wonder why he didn't get all caught up in Cas's t-shirt, like Dean just had. He was unfairly attractive - but not just to Dean, right?

"I'm sorry," Cas replied, as he sat down next to Dean. Not a single part of them touched, since they were on opposite edges of a large couch Dean originally got for Sam and him - but there was still a tingling under Dean's skin, which had to be Cas's fault. "I couldn't find any socks." He turned to Dean, suddenly smiled, and tugged his pyjama up a little to show him the socks he wore. A pair of fucking novelty socks, they were - but Dean found himself grinning mindlessly, as Cas crossed his legs under him, and the visual was taken away from him.

"Of course, you couldn't." Sam inputted. "Dean hasn't been doing the laundry lately."

"Why am I the only one supposed to do it?" Dean threw back, and Sam didn't say anything to it.

"Nevermind." Cas declared. "I found socks, unwashed though they may be. Let us start." He referred to the movie.

Jack had fell silent for a moment, and he spoke up again. "Yeah! What are we watching today?"

At the same time that Sam opened his mouth - probably to drag Dean on how they better not watch something they'd just watched - Dean spoke up. "We're watching The Fellowship of The Ring, today."

"We just watched that on literally the third Tuesday of March -" Sam complained.

"Listen." Dean threw back. "Don't shove your crazy awesome memory with movies and dates, in my face - 'cause my brain forgot the movie already."

"Forgot? You probably can quote it line by line, Dean." Sam frowned. "But I guess you're not satisfied until you flawlessly recite it in your sleep, like Lost Boys."

Dean flashed his best shit-eating grin, and if that's what he was gonna do, he wasn't gonna agree with Sam. "Well, it's what we're watching, Sammy. Deal with it."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "What about Jack? Or Cas? Why don't you ask them if they want to watch Lord of the Rings again?"

"I do." Jack announced, brightly. "I like Frodo and Samwise Gamgee." Sam rolled his eyes. "But, I could also watch something else. I trust Sam's recommendations, after Harry Potter." He added, faithfully.

"Careful, buddy, Sammy's raising your son to be a nerd." Dean muttered to Cas, and he nodded, as if it was a line that needed to be answered with a nod.

Sam grinned like it was victory handed to him on a platter. "He said he could watch something else, Dean."

"What about Cas?" Dean turned to him, rotating in his seat. "Whadd'ya wanna watch, buddy?"

Cas pursed his lips, as if in deep thought. The deciding element. The one who'd tip the scales in the favor of one of the Winchesters.

"It's not Sophie's Choice," Sam grumbled sourly, as if he already knew what Cas would choose.

"Let him think!" Dean shushed his brother.

"I have reached a decision." Cas informed everyone, looking solemnly at the TV, instead of their faces. "We shall watch The Fellowship Of The Ring, tonight." He turned to Sam. "And if there's no hunts and we're at the bunker tomorrow too, Sam's choice shall prevail - that is, if Dean agrees to go against John's sayings and watch a movie on a Wednesday."

"That's fair." Jack grinned.

Dean beamed at Cas, with his little smile and his goddamn t-shirt, which was gonna drive Dean crazy in due time, he was sure. "See, Sam?" He ignored the comment on his father, because it was rare stilted humor, and in a perfect deadpan.

Sam muttered something under his breath which sounded a little bit like 'profound bond' for some reason, and rolled his eyes in defeated agreement, as Dean began to look for the movie.

"Whatever," Sam substituted, not looking up from his phone as the opening credits began to play. "The three of you can rewatch the entire LOTR series if you want, I'll just leave you to it." He shrugged.

"Hey!" Dean was annoyed. This was family movie night. Sam was supposed to be a part of it too. "Lord of the Rings is right up your alley, nerd. Why're you bitch-facing so hard tonight?"

"Well," Sam chewed on his lip. "It's very long, and I wanted to get to bed for an early night."

Dean narrowed his eyes, and hit pause on the remote just as the elves began to narrate. "Why?"

"No reason." Sam stalled. There was an almost familiar edge to his voice and -

Suddenly, it all made sense to Dean. The dots connected in his head, and Sam's reluctance to watch a three hours long movie was suddenly reasoned.

"Why, Sam?" Cas repeated, intrigued. "Are you alright? Do you not feel well?"

"He feels fine. I know," Dean cut in. "He's got a date." Sam's eyes widened before he vigorously shook his head in denial. "Some virtual crap, I bet, because you don't like to get laid, and an actual date may've involved that - but whatever is your idea of a fun time, hey, I'm not judging."

"It's not a date!" He declared.

"Then it's something like it." Dean shrugged, getting surer, with Sam's panicked expression. He knew his brother well enough to read through this cover. "Tell me Sammy, is this a video call with some chick you met online on those awful sites?"

"Dude, no." Sam balked. "I'm on no such awful site to meet chicks."

"Sure, you're not." Dean narrowed his eyes. "Then, who? Because clearly I'm right about the rest of it."

"It's," Sam looked like he didn't wanna continue, would like nothing better than to not finish the sentence. But with Cas joining in on the stare, he let out a subdued, "Uh, Rowena."

There was a stillness in the room. Dean and Cas slowly exchanged a look, and Sam flushed. "Who?"

"We know her, Dean!" Jack corrected, promptly.

"Not like Sam does," Dean shot at his brother, who looked flustered as crap, and it was all Dean had ever wanted from this conversation.

"Dean!" Sam looked grossed out, while it should've been them. He was the one dating a three hundred years old witch. "We're gonna discuss -"

"- if you're about to tell me you'll discuss a case, I swear to call you on your bullshit by calling Rowena right away." Dean challenged, definitely.

"I -" Sam pursed his lips. "I don't need to have this conversation with you, jerk."

"What about the rest of us?" Cas asked, and there was a smirk playing on his lips, which made him all the more attractive.

"None of you." Sam declared, standing up, looking offended. "You are literally infants! Don't breathe a word of this to anyone, Dean, or I'll - whatever, just watch your frigging movie, I'm out of here."

"If you're gonna do stuff, use headphones!" Dean waited until Sam was far enough to not hit Dean for it and yelled after him, as the latter marched out of the room, embarrassed. It was his duty as the older brother to make that happen, so no issues there. He turned back to Cas, grinning at him - and Jack, of course.

"The rest of us are here without the intention of leaving halfway to call a chick, right?" Dean asked, though it was a pretty stupid question for Jack - and if the answer were yes for Cas, he'd have a major-ass freak out right there.

"Right." Cas confirmed, for some reason; his voice rich and gravelly, and Dean's attention was once again taken by Cas's t-shirt - now that his kid brother was sufficiently out of the picture. True, Jack was still there, but that's a different issue. Dean had to hold a reputation in front of Sam, that he could control his senses in the presence of Cas, and that he could rein it in, and that he could do a lot of things which he was very far from, in reality.

"Me too." Jack announced, brightly, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Jack, you're two." Cas informed him, and Dean had to stifle a snort at the very notion. Nevertheless, he toned down the weird, made himself comfortable in the couch - maybe shifting a little towards the middle, and let out a small, content sigh, for the second time this evening.

He hit play.

*

“Why do we keep making the same mistake?” Dean groaned, his head falling back on the sofa. Once again, like every tuesday ever - they’d forgotten to get food before they sat to watch the movie. Now, around half an hour in, it was all Dean could think about. But getting up seemed like an awful chore.

Cas nodded his head in agreement, grave and earnest. “It’s because we don’t learn our lesson.”

“Dean, do you want to learn said lesson tonight, by not eating?” Jack asked.

“No.” Dean glared at him. “I may be around Mr. No-Food, and Little-to-no-food, but it isn’t wearing off on me.” They’d not paused the movie to have this discussion, so he kept his eyes on the screen as he spoke. “As a human, I have a few simple needs. Such as beer and something like popcorn to chew as I watch a classic with my - I mean, with you guys.”

“Okay." Cas shuffled in his seat, beginning to stand up. Dean frowned instantly, and pulled him down, gripping his wrist. Cas easily succumbed, and was back on the couch with a surprised little bounce - looking at Dean, confused. "What? I'll get you the beer and popcorn, so that you don't have to get up. I can obviously see you don't want to."

Aww, Dean's brain melted.

"Nope." He said, out loud, popping the 'p'. "You don't need to do that. I'll go."

"I volunteer, Dean. It's not about need," Cas protested. "And you enjoy this movie more than I do."

"Sure, but I've watched it a helluva lot more too." Dean raised his eyebrows, and Cas smiled a little, one of those smiles that he reserved for Dean, and made his insides flutter.

"We could just pause it." Jack suggested, not looking away from the TV yet, for the entirety of the conversation.

"No, you keep watching, there's no need," Dean excused, standing up himself, smiling in spite of himself. Cas looked at him, and not at the screen.

"Dean," And that wonderful voice of his swept over Dean's brain and made the puddle vaporize or some shit.

"Yeah, Cas?"

"I could keep telling you what's happening, while you're in the kitchen." Cas proposed, breaking into a wider smile, all crinkly and toothy.

"Aww, Cas," Dean couldn't stop himself in time, staring blindly at Cas's face and short-circuiting in his head. And instantly cleared his throat, and added in a more composed tone. "Okay, you do that. Thanks, I guess."

Dean wondered, as he walked into the kitchen and went looking for the bacon he'd made earlier, what was up with him tonight. He was usually able to hold his tongue in front of Cas - he was usually able to look away from him, even though it took some persuasion. But there was something today, that had taken away his brain-to-mouth-and-eyes filter.

Must be the new shirt.

Dean knocked, obnoxiously loud, at Sam's door before barging in with a plate of bacon and a beer. He saw Sam fast asleep, on his front, and did not know where to go with that, so he left the table at his bedside in case he was going to wake up and resume his midnight call or something.

Then he took the rest of the food and two beers and went back to the movie room.

All through his venture, Cas had kept yelling updates through the door. "Merry and Pippin just hugged Frodo!", "And now, Frodo just met Bilbo again!", "Arwen is speaking with Frodo now!" This had made Dean grin so hard, that he almost dropped the dishes. Damn, Cas was awesome.

As Dean handed him a beer, and put the plate of bacon between them on the couch, Cas whispered to him. "And Arwen just kissed Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

And Dean stared at Cas, his blue, blue eyes and his eyebrows pinched together in concentration, and his crinkled nose - and his goddamn voice, and his way of speaking, and how he just said the words 'Aragorn, son of Arathorn' like an entire fucking dork, and how adorable it was that he'd been doing a live-commentary for Dean, and just - he was almost overpowered by a desire to kiss the perfect little smile tugging at his lips, and palm the stubble-covered cheeks, and maybe, if Jack weren't here, pull that gorgeous fucking t-shirt over his head, because it was distracting.

Dean was instantly taken aback by his own stream of thoughts. He was clearly going crazy.

He could bet it was the fault of the shirt.

*

Okay, but at this moment, Dean needs the remote.

And it's not just because the remote is on the other side, next to Cas, and Dean's brain instantly launches into a scene in his head, when Dean asks for the remote and Cas is too comfortable (he's already holding onto a large cushion like it's a blanket) to move, and he tells Dean to take it himself - and then Dean will have to lean over Cas to get it, and there'll be a moment where he's almost on top of him, and they'll happen to look at each other, and Cas's eyes will flit down to Dean's lips as Dean adjusts himself to reach the remote, on Cas's lap, and maybe Cas says something like -

That's enough.

Dean doesn't need the remote so that something like that plays out in reality. He only needs the remote to lower the volume, because Jack is asleep and he'll wake up otherwise in the war scene and noise that'll follow.

But this way or that, he can see the said scene happening.

Maybe there's a part of him which wants it to happen exactly how it happened in his head.

Maybe it will.

So, with more energy than the sentence needed, he says, "Cas! I need the remote!"

And Cas turns his head to look at Dean, an incomprehensible expression.

But instead of saying a variation of, 'take it yourself' like he was really, really supposed to -

He picks up the remote with his left hand and hands it to Dean simply.

Dean stares at it for a moment, everything forgotten, especially the reason why he needed the remote in the first place. And then he kicks himself for being a goddamn teenage girl about this, and plays off the disappointment with a 'thank you' in the manliest voice he can conjure, and he's pretty sure it makes up for the kind-of-but-not-really pornography he'd been dreaming up. Sam's irritating voice nags in his head, you're confusing reality with porn again.

Of course, Dean is too lost thinking and staring at Cas sideways when he's sure Cas can't see him - to remember to lower the volume, and Jack wakes up with a jolt at the Uruk-Hai screeching at Gimli the dwarf.

*

Jack's going off to his room. The movie isn't finished yet, but he's been dosing off throughout and Dean can't tolerate the insult to the Classic, so he tells him to just go off to sleep. It's been a long day.

"Will you both watch it whole?" Jack asks groggily, before leaving and Dean looks enquiringly at Cas. He only has to turn his head a little, because Cas is much closer to him now. They've both gravitated towards the middle.

"Of course." Cas answers. "Unless Dean needs to sleep." Dean shakes his head confidently, and Jack nods.

"Okay, goodnight dads." He mutters, at least it sounds like it, and Dean would've lost it if Cas's slight weight leaning on his arm weren't grounding him to his current location instead of somewhere panicky in his head.

"Goodnight, Jack." Dean lets out, and he's aware it doesn't sound as constipated as he thought it would, and he's proud of it.

"Dean." Cas speaks up, a moment later. "I think we should turn off the lights."

"What?" Dean blinks, mildly.

"I know neither of us will want to get up later." Cas justifies. "So we might as well do it now."

"Can't you," Dean grumbles. "Can't you use your mojo to push the switch, or..?"

Cas sighs. Then blinks, and the entire room goes dark. Cas's eyes open, and they're gleaming like blue halos of light in the suddenly dark room - and Dean can still make out his face, in the light of it. It's all hard lines and small smiles, from the little he sees. "I need to remember I can do these things, don't I?" He mumbles.

"Yeah, our human incapabilities are wearing off on ya." Dean tells him and they start looking at the screen again.

"You're not incapable if you have to stand up to turn off the lights." Cas replies, and Dean just hums in response.

A little later, Cas speaks again, and he sounds happier almost. "Dean."

"Uh-huh?" Dean looks away from Gandalf on the screen, to look at the angel.

"Did you notice Jack kept falling asleep?"

Dean pauses. "Oh." He smiles too, it coming over him all of a sudden. "Yeah."

"That means," Cas's tone is bright, and Dean can hear his smile. "He's enough human to fall asleep in the middle of a movie, again."

"Human incapabilities strike again," Dean teases, and Cas chuckles audibly and it's a really, really good moment. Although yeah, it's a bit too domestic for Dean to be perfectly at calm - Cas and he are sitting in the dark, watching a movie they've watched so many times before, discussing the progress of the nephilim they've been raising (with Sam, of course) and Dean has his hand around Cas's seat - in what he now feels guilty on realizing is the oldest trick in every guy's playbook. They're both more in the middle of the couch than not, and the beers have been drained to the last drop. One of them doesn't sleep, the other won't - and then there's Cas's perfect t-shirt, which shall drive Dean to madness each time he sees it, and beyond.

*

Slowly, the arm which is on the couch, falls on Cas's shoulder - and it's a rather rapid course from there to it being slung around Cas, with Cas tucked under it and leaning into Dean so that it's comfortable.

It's not that Cas's head is on Dean's chest, or not even that his fingers are playing with the fabric of Cas's shirt - its just that they're so close to doing that, and somehow Dean can't pull back this time.

Like, he suddenly realizes, he's been doing forever.

It's again, a good thing that he pretty much knows LOTR scene by scene, and in spite of almost completely being distracted by everything Cas, he answers all trivial questions Cas mumbles at him in that deep, deep baritone - and there's a heat pooling in Dean's insides, and he can't quite place if its the spot behind his ribs, or further south.

Both sounds most appropriate.

*

Dean is not proud of this, but he fell asleep.

It's not that he didn't finish the movie, because he did - he remembers the last scene (or it could be from a previous watching that he recalls it) but it's just that he fell asleep right there. Next to Cas.

No, not even next to him. Pretty much wrapped around him. And somehow that's - not so wild, after all. It kinda feels awesome. Its not even morning yet, so he has more hours.

He wakes up with his hair tickling his breath and coughs mildly when he realizes that he'd buried his nose in Cas's hair - and his lips on his head, apparently. He straightens, but is sure to not make much movement - because Cas doesn't sleep like they do, he rather drifts off to a sorta-catatonic state but stays very much awake and alert. He doesn't want to wake Cas up, because the angel looks so comfortable, nestled on Dean's chest - that it somehow invokes a feeling of pride in him.

And love.

And that's that. The not-freaking-out segment of this story abruptly comes to an end, and Dean clenches his fist to stop himself from beginning to tremble.

He ends up with a fistful of that goddamn shirt which Dean blames for everything in that night, and Cas stirring awake, and straightening. The weight rested on Dean's abdomen is lost, and it feels weird and colder.

"It's seven minutes to four. Ante Meridiem." Cas announces, in a voice which is roughened by lack of use.

"You should go back to sleep." Dean begs, because Cas doesn't need to see Dean get anxious about the whole pile of feelings he's beginning to feel crushed under.

"Dean." Cas says, in that voice, and straightens some more. He's at Dean's height again, and their noses are inches apart, and Cas looks worried about him. "Dean?" He repeats, and he's concerned, and he's perfect, and his voice is something else, and the way he looks at him is something else like Dean is worthy of all his attention somehow - and the emotions are brimming and he doesn't know what to do with them until he -

He jerks himself ahead, and grabs Cas's shirt for good measures, pressing his lips against Cas's.

It's a moment of bravery, it's a moment of impulse, and it's a moment of utter stupidity because Cas doesn't react -

Until he does, and he kisses back, and he's excited and into it and Dean's taken aback by his vigor and in awe of his own hands which are grappling at Cas's t-shirt for friction as he moans into Cas's mouth.

"I blame the t-shirt," He whines, when they pull away, to look at each other better. And he does.

Of course, he's not an idiot (except for the many times that he is). But what he definitely isn't, is dense enough to not realize that this had been over ten years in the making.

These urges were familiar, and suppressed each time - the sudden feelings were overpowering, except he'd learn to deal with them tactfully, by crushing them with every means possible.

But what had changed today and he'd actually acted on it instead of swallowing it, had to be the tee. It fit like magic, and it perfectly showcased his lean, muscled chest - and gave a peak of his collarbones, and if he stretched, his obliques - and it was as black as his hair in the dark, and ah, it had to be the shirt.

Because otherwise, he didn't know what it could be, that had made tonight - today - this.

Cas still had his hand on Dean's bicep. "This one?" He looks down at himself. "I got it from your closet months ago."

"What -"

"And, you blame it?" He repeats.

"No," Dean shakes his head, anxiously, truthfully as he captures his lips in a kiss again. Slotting in place against each other, and as loving as they were passionate - he had had no idea that kissing Cas would be this amazing. "I love it. I'm gonna need you to keep wearing it. On Thanksgiving, I'm gonna be thankful for it."

Cas laughs against Dean's lips, and says something which is lost in the bliss of the moment.

Nevermind. He has all the moments after this, to listen to him. But he only has this one, at the end of a Tuesday movie night, to enjoy their first kiss (he's pretty sure all the short, little kisses just make up one major kiss). So he does.

*

Edit: Thank you for reading! Would like to tag @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @all-or-nothing-baby @styggtroll @notyoursweetbaboo @moderatelypanickedbisexual @but-for-the-gods-three-days and @emmii4 ! If you don't wanna be tagged, I'll remove you from the list, just ask! Have an awesome day!

[darlingsdontdie]

New Yandere, Whump, and Dark Shipping Blog: Requests FAQ

Hey! So before I start writing and creating, I thought I'd get some common questions answered and out of the way! If you are concerned about your request or are unsure of its content, please first check this post before directly messaging me.

Request Content

Q: What kinds of requests do you fill?

A: I will fill almost any type of request! But here are some specific options with set structures and examples.

Headcanon Requests (bulleted, length depending on ask, ex: "Can I get headcanons for Requested Character with a short girlfriend?")

Scenario Requests (bulleted, LDOA, ex: "Can I get a scenario for if Requested Ship were getting married?")

Drabble Requests (prose, LDOA, ex: "Can I request a drabble about RC being worried when their darling is sick?")

Playlist Requests (list of songs, 1-5 song limit, ex: "Do you have 4 songs for a jealous RC?")

Graphic Requests (edit style, 1-4 images, ex: "Could you make a graphic for yandere RC with this item or quote?")

Aesthetic Requests (moodboard style, image with 6-9 sections, ex: "Can I get an aesthetic for dark!RS?")

Prompt Requests (list of brainstormed dialogue and short sentences, LDOA, ex: "Do you have dialogue prompts for RC kidnapping their darling?")

Plot Bunny Requests (short prose paragraphs or bulleted, LDOA, ex: "I want to write about yandere RC surprising their darling but don't know how or why. Are there are any plot bunnies you can give me?").

New! RP Idea Requests (selection of 1-4 short rp-style bios/plots/starters, LDOA, ex: "Do you have any yandere rp ideas for Requested Fandom ocs?")

New! Fancast Requests (moodboard or edit style, 2-9 images per RC/RS, ex: "Who would you cast as yandere RC(s)?")

New! Faceclaim Recommendation Requests (bulleted list of names with short explanations or reasons, LDOA, ex: "My yandere OC is tall, has dark hair, and soft features. He acts friendly but is the violent type. Can I have a few fcs?")

Requests that don't specify will be answered with a bulleted list or possibly a short paragraph. There may be times I'm willing to fill some requests but not others due to time constraints, but that doesn't mean I won't ever fill them!

Fandom requests involving AUs and crossovers are welcome (ex: "Headcanons of how yandere Naruto in a wild west AU?" or "Headcanons about what would happen if yandere Ten and yandere Crowley fell for the same person?"), as are original requests based on existing media (ex: "Can I get headcanons about a popular girl type who has a Breakfast Club experience and ends up going yandere for the criminal?" or "Can you write a drabble about a yandere whose story is like this music video?").

Q: What characters do you write for?

A: I'll write for any character that I am familiar with, with a few exceptions for characters I'm aware of but uncomfortable with. To get started, here's a list of fandoms that I have a solid handle on!

Anime (Naruto, Ouran High School Host Club, Death Note, Hetalia, etc.)

Western Animation (Archer, Castlevania, She-Ra: Princesses of Power, etc.)

DC and Marvel Comics

Star Wars (no New Trilogy - Originals, Prequels, Clone Wars, & Legends only)

Other Major Film Franchises (Pirates of the Caribbean, the MCU, James Bond, etc.)

Harry Potter and related properties

Percy Jackson and related properties

Hunger Games and related properties

Twilight and related properties

A Song of Ice and Fire (willing to try TV canon but much more familiar with Book canon)

Crime Dramas (Barry, Good Girls, Hannibal, Mr. Robot, Revenge, etc.)

Historical Drama (Vikings, The Tudors, Les Miserables, The Borgias, Downton Abbey, Peaky Blinders, Taboo, etc.)

Science Fiction and Fantasy TV/Lit (Star Trek TOS/AOS; Doctor Who, New Who only; Merlin; Good Omens; Lucifer; Galavant, etc.)

Horror-Thriller TV/Lit (American Horror Story, The Haunting of Hill House, Hemlock Grove, Alias Grace, etc.)

Sitcoms (familiar with Friends, all the Michael Schur products, Community, That 70s Show, Jane the Virgin, Schitt's Creek, Superstore, IASIP, and others)

Teen Dramas (Teen Wolf, Pretty Little Liars, Freaks and Geeks, Glee, etc., but no Riverdale)

Chinese and Korean Dramas (A Korean Odyssey/Hwayugi, Meteor Gardens, A Love So Beautiful, What's Wrong With Secretary Kim, Romance Is a Bonus Book, My First First Love, Black, etc.)

Video Games (Assasain's Creed, Portal 2, Fire Emblem, AFK Arena, Professor Layton, etc.)

Something that's not here can still be requested - I'm familiar with a lot of media and do my best to keep up.

As I implied above, I am also happy to write for original characters. Whether that means you telling me about your own OCs, or me creating my own characters for you down the line, either is great.

I will NOT be writing RPF or RPS. I do not approve of real person shipping and real person fiction makes me uncomfortable - if that's what you're looking for, there are a huge number of other blogs that will cater to your needs directly. Which leads me into...

Prohibited Requests, and Non-Yandere Content

Q: Will you fill every request you get?

A: I'll fill requests that interest me and that I feel comfortable posting, and that will probably be most of them! I am really excited to get started. But I still reserve the right to refuse a prompt - I'm writing for free, so no one is entitled to have their ask filled. If I choose to deny your prompt, I will answer privately and, if the issue is with content, update the blog so it's made clear that the type of prompt is not taken.

Q: What is and isn't allowed to be requested?

A: To be honest, most stuff is allowed and some stuff isn't. There's a lot of ground to cover here, so I've divided it based on the nature of the concern.

Q: Do you accept NSFW/SFW requests?

A: I'll do NS and SFW work, but I've got more experience with SFW content. This doesn't mean I do it exclusively, just that I won't think to go NS unless you mention it. Specify for NS and it'll be included happily!

Q: Do you accept violent requests?

Violence against non-SO characters and dub-con is okay always, as is situational or over-the-top violence, even murder, involving SOs (ex: "the yandere and their darling are soldiers on opposite sides of the war" or "the yandere saws off their darling's legs so they have to carry them everywhere").

However, there is some tricky area with violent fantasies. If I think the content strays too close to serious physical domestic abuse, then I'll likely deny the request. This is partially why I prefer requests that get violent to focus on non-SO targets, so if it doesn't matter to you, that's almost guaranteed to get a response.

Non-con I can mention and discuss in headcanon posts and possibly prompt lists, but I will not be writing drabbles or scenarios for non-con prompts.

Q: Do you accept kink requests?

A: It will depend on the type and whether I feel morally and psychologically comfortable with it. For example, hypnosis, size kink, gender stuffing, BDSM, roleplay, etc., are all currently accepted because they don't seem to affect me in a negative way. I am willing to do ships for cousins and step family, as well. However, I will not under any circumstances deal with r*ceplay, p*dophilia, fetishizing of trans people or people of color, or inc*stplay, and I will not be doing ship work for anyone more closely related than cousins, including but not limited to siblings, parents (blood or adopted), or aunts and uncles. None of this is negotiable. I am willing to consider AUs where two characters aren't family, or non romantic yandere behavior between family, but even then, the request's on thin ice. Anything super unhygienic or illness related is probably something I won't be interested in not as a rule or for moral reasons but just because it can exacerbate my anxiety and OCD. I also do not fill prompts related to minors at all, be it explicit/adult/sexual content or otherwise. Requests for characters who are minors will have them aged up unless otherwise specified - in which case you will promptly be blocked.

Q: Can I request a dark imagine that is not yandere related?

A: Of course! Just make sure to be specific about what you want from it.

Q: Can I request a ship or character imagine that isn't yandere or dark?

A: Yes, though I won't promise it'll be what you're looking for. I fall towards horror, thriller, and angst when I write, regardless of my intentions.

Q: Can I request something that's not ship or character imagine related?

A: Sure, I'd be honored, but again, I don't promise to fulfill every request. This blog is intended to be stress relief, self indulgence.

How to Make a Request

Q: How do I contact you for requests?

A: Asks, messages, replies on my original posts, and even more casual things like tagging me in yandere or writing related posts are all great ways to interact with me!

Q: When do you accept requests?

A: Requests will be opened or closed depending on how busy I am and whether I'm caught up on them.

Currently, requests are closed. However, I've decided that requests are reopened on my days off. The days should be listed in my bio.

Q: Do you accept anonymous requests?

A: Yes, I do! I also will not publish asks from users unless the user specifically clarifies that they are okay with it, just in case the user sent the ask from their blog on accident. User asks that aren't specified as safe to publish will be responded to privately when the request is filled.

Q: How will I know my request is filled?

A: As stated above, anonymous asks and user asks clarified as safe to publish will be published with a response. User asks without any clarification will be responded to privately. Anonymous asks asking for privacy for any reason will not be published. Messages will also get a reply. Users who send requests that are kept private will not be tagged unless you ask me to. Users with published asks will always be tagged in the final post, but it is totally okay to ask me to change or erase the tag! Other than this, checking for posts is up to the requester.

Other Kinds of Interaction

Q: Is there anyone who you don't want interacting with your blog?

A: Anyone complicit in nazism, racism, transphobia, homophobia, misogyny, xenophobia, pedophilia/MAPs, or any other politicized violence against a people is uneqivocally not welcome to engage with my work. I also have a zero tolerance policy for true crime fans who support or absolve serial killers. Please respect this - anyone who doesn't will be blocked. Anyone who pushes the issue will be reported.

Q: What about kink or otherkin blogs?

A: Honestly, I don't know much about either community. As of now, I'm fine with interaction. I'd ask that I not receive any kin related requests, because I am not familiar with the concept, community, and issues accompanying. Kinks can be requested but as stated above, are not guaranteed to be filled. Please don't bring discourse or discourse related requests here. I am not equipped to or interested in getting involved. If that changes, I have a main and other side blogs. This blog will never be a place for it.

Q: Are you okay if we interact with you or send you asks and messages that aren't requests?

A: Absolutely! I would love to talk with you. I am always interested in discussing any of the topics covered on this blog, or anything else for that matter! I pride myself on trying to be not just nice, but kind, and hopefully that comes through in every interaction. However, I'll expect the same courtesy from anyone who'd reach out to me, or use my posts to communicate to others for that matter. Anyone who doesn't will be, you guessed it, blocked. Anyone who pursues it further, yeah, will be reported.

Q: You have a lot of rules about requests and interaction, but you don't seem to post much and you aren't very active. Is this all just awkward and formal overkill, or is there a point?

A: I've explained all of this clearly, in as an accessible way as I can think of, because I want to eliminate the potential for drama, confusion, and other misunderstandings.

Online communities tend to be chock-full of plenty and I do not, nor does anyone who visits, need another reason to be tired. I'm not detailing all of this upfront because I expect to be very popular, or because I like listening to myself talk for paragraphs on end. I don't want a theoretical lack of information to be used to hurt either myself or others, though some of it shouldn't have to be spelled out in the first place.

But considering how ridiculously easy it is to misinterpret each other online, and how much of a disadvantage neuroatypical people like myself are when things are left just implicit rather than made what you could argue as exhaustingly explicit, I figured a crazy FAQ was a small price to pay for a peaceful environment.

TLDR: it certainly might be overkill, but that doesn't mean there is no point to it.

Q: What should requesters and followers call you anyways?

A: I'm fine with my username. If you're going for a different vibe, Red or Darlings sounds nice too. If you can come up with something catchier, feel free to try!

💀💀💀

On that note, I also may be slow going when it comes to requests. All I can do is promise to put a lot of thought into my replies, even though speed is not guaranteed. Any other questions can be asked directly, and I would be more than happy to answer them!

[hyunsracha]

hurt — stray kids

word count: 4.3k

summary: a night at the seo residence with your best friends. what could go wrong?

warning: killer!au so um....there are lots! of deaths and it’s overall a very Heavy story w sensitive topics so if you’re sensitive i advise you don’t read this!!! 

It wasn’t uncommon for you to spend your Friday nights at the Seo residence.

He had the biggest house, and with the biggest house comes the most money, so his parents were usually out working. A perfect scenario for 10 teenagers to fuck around.

You usually spent your Friday nights binge-watching TV shows and buying $100 worth of Postmates with Changbin’s card when he went to the bathroom.

This was another one of those nights. You had had a shitty day and you wanted nothing more than to curl up with your 9 best friends and forget your worries.

“I say we watch really bad horror movies. Like, they’re not even horror movies but Netflix puts them in that category anyway.”

“No, that’s scary!”

“Jisung, don’t be a pussy.”

“Fuck you, Chan.”

It started off innocent enough, with horrible films such as Sharknado and Piranha. Then, Chan had the lovely idea of watching Scream 4.

“Isn’t this like...an actual scary movie?”

“Only if you’re a coward.”

“Well, maybe I am a coward!” Jisung pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. As much as he complained, he would sit and watch the movie. Jisung was like that. Probably the nicest person in your friend group; Jisung was ready and willing to give his spine for any of you at any time.

Tragic.

Scream 4 soon became Halloween, then Friday the 13th.

“Channie,” you had whispered to him halfway through Halloween, “What’s your sudden obsession with slasher films?”

He didn’t look at you, choosing to keep his gaze locked on the large television in Changbin’s living room. The light from the screen gave Chan’s wide eyes a glare you didn’t quite like; it pushed a shiver down your spine.

“No reason. Just felt like watching them, that’s all.”

You leaned back on the couch, Jeongin immediately cuddling into your side. Most of your friends were, for lack of a better word, cowards. Jisung and Changbin especially. Those two were currently wrapped up in each other, looking down at their phones to avoid peering into the holes of Jason’s mask.

You, on the other hand, weren’t afraid of horror movies. Especially slasher films. So what if a creepy dude in a stupid mask tries to stab you? You’re not an idiot. You could defend yourself.

After Friday the 13th was over, Changbin turned on the living room light. Everyone groaned at the sudden brightness that filled the room.

“No more! Please. Can’t we just watch something funny?”

“Like what?” Hyunjin asked, sitting up from his upside down position on the couch.

“Bubble Guppies!”

“Jisung….what?”

“It’s a fucking kid’s show and I’m terrified. I’m still a kid! I bet Jeongin wants to watch it too! Right, our little baby?” Jisung cooed. Jeongin rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway. You knew Jeongin didn’t like being babied. In fact, he hated it. But he also put up with it because it meant that his friends did things for him.

“First things first, though, I want a drink. Does anyone want anything?” Changbin opened the door to the garage. The garage is where Changbin’s parents kept all of their alcohol.

“I’ll help you carry!” Felix stood from his place on the floor, bringing his arms above his head to stretch them.

“Me too! I need to stretch my legs. Keep me limber so I don’t end up immobile when I’m an old hag.” Jeongin followed the pair out to the garage.

“Hey!” Woojin yelled, but they were already gone.

“I have to pee, feel free to start your kid’s show without me.” Chan stood as well, lightly kicking Jisung’s leg as he passed by.

The remaining six of you discussed what to watch next, with Seungmin recommending something dramatic, while Minho wanted action. With so many different opinions, it was hard to pick.

In the midst of your discussion, the door to the garage flung open. Jeongin and Changbin rushed into the living room, panic obvious on their features.

“Why are y’all running? And where’s my drink? I’m not watching Bubble Guppies sober.” Minho complained.

“He- oh my God, oh my God, oh my fucking God.” Changbin’s breath was labored, and he looked on the verge of tears. Jeongin wasn’t any better.

“He what? Where’s Felix?”

“He’s- I can’t- just come to the garage.” Jeongin’s voice shook as his spoke, his shaking hand gesturing for you to follow him. Fear now present in your bodies, the six of you stood to follow the two boys.

You would never forget what you saw.

Felix’s body crumpled against the garage door, an axe’s blade shoved into his throat. His clothes were covered in blood, and his eyes were still open, peering lifelessly into the souls of your group.

Your shrieks of pain were in unison, but your reactions were different. Jisung collapsed onto the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest as he began to shake. Hyunjin quickly followed, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy. Minho was frozen in shock, and Woojin’s face was just blank.

You stepped forward, slowly approaching the body of what was one of your best friends. You placed your hand on his cheek, getting some of the blood that had splattered onto his face on your hand.

“What’s with all the screaming?” A voice suddenly spoke. You jumped, whipping around to see Chan standing behind all of you. His eyes moved from your eyes to your hand before finally landing on Felix. You could hear the breath get knocked from his body as he fell to the floor as well.

“S-Someone call the police.” Your voice cracked as you spoke. You watched as all of your friends either pulled out their phones or ran back to the living room, confusion soon evident on their faces.

“What? Why aren’t you calling?”

“No signal.”

“It’s fucking 2019 what the fuck do you mean, ‘no signal’?”

“Like...everything got cut off. Someone wants to isolate us.”

How could that even happen?

“I’ll go and get somebody.” Woojin finally spoke, moving towards the front door to put his shoes on.

“Are you sure?” Chan was immediately at his side, seemingly snapping out of his daze.

“I’m one of the fastest, it shouldn’t take that long.” Woojin shrugged, still not showing any emotion. He opened the front door, giving the group one last long glance before running into the front yard. You all moved to the large windows on either side of the front door, watching in horror as there was a gunshot and Woojin’s body fell to the ground.

You turned the porch light on, exposing a trip wire that was connected to the trigger of a gun. Blood poured from Woojin’s neck.

“So no one gets out-” Seungmin started, but was cut off by Changbin.

“Or gets in.”

The group went back to the living room, everyone sitting down in a tight circle on the floor. You were all too scared to move; too scared of what’s just around the corner.

“What do we do?” Hyunjin spoke after a long moment of silence.

“Well, I don’t wanna sit here and wait to be fucking killed! We have to do something.”

“We can’t leave, Minho. Someone’s here, in the house, watching us.”

“Or it’s one of us.”

“Seungmin can you shut the fuck up? Two of our friends are dead, and you’re making jokes? What do you think this is, some shitty horror movie?” You were shocked. Jisung had never raised his voice like that at any one of you. He wasn’t looking up from his lap, but you couldn’t even imagine the look on his face.

“I’m not kidding, Sungie. It...it makes sense.” You trusted Seungmin’s instincts; Seungmin had always been good to you, and most of his guesses ended up being correct. Just the thought of one of your friends being behind this made your blood turn cold.

“So you’re just going to assume one of our friends is a fucking murderer?”

“I don’t want to! Why would I want one of my friends to be a murderer? I’m just saying...it’s possible.” Seungmin leaned forward in the circle to grab Jisung’s hand, but the older pulled it away before standing up. He stared down at Seungmin for a second before storming off.

“I’ll go.” Chan waved a hand before anyone else could speak, getting up to follow the boy. Another long silence followed. You leaned on Seungmin’s shoulder, resting your hand on top of his to assure him that you weren’t mad.

“If we just stay here together, we don’t die, right?” Hyunjin asked, not bothering to wipe the tears that were steadily rolling down his cheeks.

“I doubt it.” Minho replied.

“Thanks for the optimism!”

“Shut up.”

“S-Should someone go and get Jisung and Chan?” Jeongin was staring at the staircase, biting down on his lip as he worried for his friends.

“Yeah. I’ll go. Jeongin, come with me.” Changbin stood, holding a hand out for the younger to take. Those two went upstairs to find Jisung and Chan, leaving only four left in the living room.

Your eyes were slowly fluttering shut, and you looked at the clock. 02:36. How was it already so late? You could tell your friends getting tired too, as Hyunjin soon laid his head on your lap.

“Don’t fall asleep, Jinnie.”

“But I’m tired.” He whined. For just a moment, you forgot about all the bad shit that had just happened to you.

That moment didn’t last very long.

All of the lights in the room suddenly shut off. You assumed the power in the whole house went off, judging by the familiar screams of your friends. You heard thudding as Changbin came down the stairs, screaming at all of you to run. You were on your feet immediately, grabbing onto somebody’s arm and running off in a random direction. You didn’t know who you were with or where you were going, but hopefully you would end up safe.

Whoever you were dragging along with you suddenly fell, a low grown coming from their body as they hit the ground.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, bringing your other hand to their arm to pull me up. In that moment, the lights flickered on. Merely a few feet away from you, someone stood, their face covered by a black mask and their head and body covered by what looked like something you could buy from a costume store. You looked down at the floor.

“For fuck’s sake, Changbin, get up!” You were still pulling, but it wasn’t doing much.

“My ankle!” Changbin cried, struggling to get up. The killer stepped forward, brandishing a blade that they pierced into Changbin’s calf. He yelped, tightening his grip on your arm.

“My parents’ room, that’s where Jisung is. Go get him, he needs us.”

“Changbin, I’m not leaving you here to die!” You pulled on his arm again, harder this time, guilt washing over you as you watched his face contort in pain. The killer pulled his knife from Changbin’s calf, this time shoving it through his back. Changbin let go of your arm; a signal of surrender. The killer locked eyes with you through his mask. You’ve seen those eyes before; you recognize that stare. You just couldn’t recall who.

So you ran. You ran, trying to block out the sounds of your friend’s screams of agony. They didn’t even bother chasing after you. But you didn’t know where Changbin’s parents’ room was.

“Jisung!” You called out, sticking your head in random rooms.

“Minho, Hyunjin, Seungmin, anybody?” Where was everybody?

“Y/N!” You heard a familiar voice. Jeongin.

“Jeongin!” You ran to him, where he stood in front of a door at the end of a hall. You wrapped him up in your arms, the two of you shaking with sobs.

“Where is everybody?” You asked as you pulled away.

Jeongin opened the door, showing your friends- or what was left of them- all sitting in front of the bed. On the bed was what was once Han Jisung, though it was hard to tell with how mangled his body was. It was hard to tell that the walls were supposed to be beige, because now they were red. The only part of Jisung’s body that wasn’t fucked up was his face, like the killer wanted you all the see that it was Jisung that he had just ruined. His face had even been cleaned up, as you could tell from the smears of blood on his face that were reluctant to leave; determined to stay and show the world that precious, sweet Jisung had been completely destroyed. You never thought that you would see your friend’s organs, but they were put on display for you all to see, lined up above his head like he was a fucking art exhibit.

Once the door was opened, Minho immediately latched himself onto you, pulling you down on the floor with him as he sobbed into your shoulder. You wrapped your arm around him, staring straight ahead.

Why were you not crying? You had cried for Felix. You couldn’t already be numb, it’s already been a few hours. You can’t be numb to the deaths of your best friends, Y/N. What are you, a fucking sociopath?

“I love him, Y/N, I love him.” Minho cried. It was hard to tell what he was saying, but you nodded anyway.

Minho and Jisung were always close. They had been best friends for years, and about a year ago, Minho had confided in you and told you about his growing feelings for the younger boy. It wasn’t a big deal; Jisung had told you the same thing about Minho. That just made your heart hurt more for Minho. Having to see the one person you love more than anything in this world murdered...you couldn’t imagine.

You all sat there for a moment. You still couldn’t will yourself to cry, and you felt like a shitty person. Everyone else was crying, why weren’t you?

“You guys,” You started, your voice weak, “I was w-with Changbin. He fell and hurt his ankle and...I couldn’t get him up in time.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Everyone was staring at you and you felt like withering away. You felt so horrible. You couldn’t save Changbin, or Jisung, or anybody.

“Can I...have a minute alone?” Minho pulled himself away from you, crawling closer to where Jisung’s body laid.

“Minho, I don’t think you should be alone right now.” Chan spoke, standing up, presumably to bring Minho closer to him.

“Well, I’m not alone. Sungie’s here, too. So get out.” His voice was flat, deprived of all the joy he used to hold.

“Minho, no.”

“I said get out!” He started pushing; not hard, but with enough force to get his point across. Once all of you were out of the room, he slammed the door and locked it.

“Why- why did he lock it?” Hyunjin mumbled, twisting the doorknob. You shut your eyes tight, taking deep breaths to try to calm your nerves.

He wouldn’t. Minho wouldn’t. He wouldn’t, right?

Bang!

He did.

Hyunjin gasped. Chan sighed. Jeongin started to cry, as did Seungmin. You merely flinched at the noise, not even bothering to open your eyes.

“So what now?” You asked, looking to Chan for an answer. Everyone always looked up to Chan in a leader sort of way. And he always pulled through, giving advice that helped you all through tough times.

“I don’t know, Y/N. I just...don’t know.”

You thought of going back down to the living room, choosing to stay somewhere central where you could see most of the house. Chan went down first, followed by you, then Hyunjin, then Jeongin, then Seungmin.

You would think that going down a goddamn flight of stairs would be peaceful, but apparently, you were wrong. It was Jeongin’s scream that alerted you. You all turned around, expecting to see the killer but only seeing Seungmin coming down at you at full speed. He was falling fast, his head or feet hitting almost every step. He landed at the bottom of the stairs with a thud, and you swear you hear a snapping noise.

“Oh God. Oh my God, Seungmin!” You cried, practically leaping down the stairs to see your friend. You pulled him into your lap, your hands gently running along his face.

“Jeonginnie, c’mon.” Hyunjin was begging. Jeongin wouldn’t move from his spot, his eyes blown wide. It was like he was a block of ice.

“Jeongin, please. We have to stick together.” Chan was trying to get Jeongin to come down, too. But the boy wouldn’t budge. Chan moved up a step, closer to him, and that’s when he ran. All the way back up the stairs and to the right, away from Jisung and Minho.

“Fuck!” Chan quickly chased after him. Hyunjin sighed and sat down on the stairs. You always knew Hyunjin was a crybaby, and you usually teased him for it. But all of these tears made sense.

“D-Do you think I’m gonna be next?”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m scared. I miss our friends.” You nodded, still staring down at Seungmin as you listened to Hyunjin speak.

Jeongin screamed again. You brought your hands up to your ears, beginning to mumble nonsense at yourself to block the sound.

You heard Hyunjin faintly, “Y/N, what are you doing?” But that only made you talk louder. You couldn’t do this anymore. How could you? How could you keep listening to the sounds of your friends dying and know that you couldn’t do anything to save them?

You only moved your hands from your head when Chan pulled them away.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Chan nodded. You sighed, standing up from your spot on the floor. You walked back to the couch, sitting in the middle and pulling your knees up to your chest. Hyunjin sat on your right; Chan on your left. The three of you just sat there in silence, comforted by the sounds of your breathing. After a while, Hyunjin leaned his head on your shoulder, whispering so no one else could hear:

“I don’t trust Chan.”

Then the fucking lights shut off again. Hyunjin yelped, immediately grabbing onto your hand. You grabbed onto Chan’s, and you shut your eyes again.

And then you felt it. You assumed Hyunjin felt it too, judging by his scream. You jumped back once the warm liquid hit your face.

The lights turned back on, and you looked to your left. Chan’s head was pushed back and his throat was slit, covering everything around him in his blood. You two leaped off the couch. Hyunjin ran towards the garage, and so you followed him. You slammed the garage door shut after him, flicking on the light.

Felix. You had almost forgotten about Felix.

Hyunjin was obviously panicking, judging from the way his head snapped to every corner of the room, looking for a way out.

“Look! A dog door!”

“Hyunjin…”

“No, listen to me! If we open the garage door, he’ll hear us. If we go out this way, he won’t!” Hyunjin practically threw himself to his knees, crawling towards the door. You wondered if he could even fit.

Apparently he could. You stood a few feet behind him, ready to follow after him.

But then the door starting raising. You whipped around, looking back into those masked eyes from earlier.

“Hyunjin get out of the fucking door!” You cried out to him, but it was too late. The door was raising higher and higher, and Hyunjin was stuck. He collided with the top, his neck immediately snapping. His body hung lifeless, and you started to shake.

He was the last one. You thought you would get out of this with someone.

You turned back to where the killer was, only to see a blank space. He was gone.

You don’t know what snapped in you.

Whoever this person was, they wouldn’t live to see another day.

You ran back into the house, first going to the kitchen to grab a knife. Then you started roaming the halls, peering into every room and every corner. You had to come face to face with the bodies of all of your best friends, and every time you saw one of them, your soul became emptier and emptier.

You were heading back to the kitchen when you were pulled into a closet. The scare made you drop your knife. You started kicked, screaming into the person’s palm to try and get free.

“Stop screaming, stop screaming please! It’s just me.” You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Jeongin? But- but I thought you were dead. Chan saw you-”

“I got stabbed in the shoulder, but that’s it. I just passed out for a little while.” You were relieved. No, you were more than relieved. One of your friends did make it out alive.

“Okay. We’re gonna make it. We can find this guy. Right, Jeongin?”

Silence.

“Jeongin?”

You heard small sniffles in the darkness.

“Jeongin, what’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He was full on sobbing at this point, so you brought him closer to you.

“You were always my favorite, Y/N. Always. You were so smart and nice and you never babied me like everyone else did.” You started to smile, but then you felt cold metal on your back.

“But if I let my favorite live, it would be obvious who killed everyone else, hmm?” The cool was gone for a moment, only to be replaced by a burning feeling. That feeling surged through your back, quickly spreading through your entire body. You always knew that being stabbed would hurt, but you didn’t expect it to hurt this much. You gasped, immediately crumpling to the floor.

“You’d be surprised how easy it was. You would think killing nine people would be difficult, but hah, you’d be wrong. It only cost me like $20 to get a guy to cut off all the signal in the house. Gotta love technology, right?” Jeongin didn’t sound like Jeongin anymore. He sounded cold; heartless. Nothing like the Jeongin you had known and loved for years.

“I bet you’re wondering why, right?,” He continued his little speech, “I’m so tired of being fucking babied by them. I’m almost 18 fucking years old and they treat me like I’m five. I bet this really fucking showed them, huh?” He chuckled, a dark sound in contrast to all of his little giggles you were used to.

By this point you were losing consciousness, and you were kind of glad. You didn’t want to live with this burning pain. Your body was getting colder; you guessed it was from all the blood loss.

“Chan even bought me a juice box once. A juice box, a fucking juice box! Isn’t that ridiculous? Right, Y/N? Oh wait, you’re dying. Sad. I’ll miss you the most. But I’ll probably forget you once I become famous. Because obviously I’ll become famous. The poor, innocent boy who lived through all of his best friends being murdered? And I’m cute. Win-win.” God, he sounded fucking insane.

You couldn't breathe. You figured this is what dying felt like.

“Oh, and yeah. I did stab myself. It fucking hurt. You must be going through some shit right now, huh?”

And then it all went black.

—

You thought you died. You really did.

Maybe you did. Maybe you were in Hell.

Waking up in a dark hospital room next to two people, one of which you thought you knew, did seem like Hell.

But in the other bed was Seungmin. You thought Seungmin was dead.

The other bed, which you assumed once held Jeongin, was now empty, which terrified you. You tried to sit up; the stinging in your back prevented you from doing so.

“Seungmin.” You whispered, bringing a weak arm up to shake the boy lightly. He had a cast on his arm and on his leg, and a few scratches on his face.

He stirred slightly, not yet opening his eyes, “Five more minutes.”

“Seungmin I swear to fucking God if you don’t wake up right now-”

“Shut up.”

Jeongin.

“God, how are you two not dead yet? I pushed you down a flight of fucking rich people stairs!” He stood in front of Seungmin’s bed, a harsh glare cast upon the boy in the bed.

“You won’t get away with this.”

“Oh yeah?” And he pounced. He jumped on Seungmin’s bed, wrapping his hands around the boy’s throat. You tried pushing him off, but you were weak and he was a lot stronger than you initially thought. Seungmin’s eyes were open now, and there was nothing he could do except gag as he stared up at what he thought was his best friend.

You started screaming. For a nurse, a cop, anyone.

Thankfully, a nurse entered the room, worried by all the noise. She gasped at the sight in front of her, quickly hurrying away.

“Son of a bitch.” You started pulling the needles out of your arms, pushing through the pain and standing up. You started pushing Jeongin again, this time with more force. But it still didn’t work. You ran to the other side of the room, looking for any tools that could help you.

“I don’t fucking think so!” You heard from behind you before you felt a painful thud on your head. You collapsed to the floor, a hand coming up to feel the back of your head. You didn’t have time to think before Jeongin hit you again.

And again.

And again.

Your head was bleeding; you were getting blood in your eyes. He was impossible to fight.

But you didn’t have to.

You watched the bullet pierce through his forehead, and you saw his lifeless body fall on top on you. Looking over his shoulder, you saw a police officer running towards you, and the nurse headed for Seungmin. The cop pulled Jeongin’s body off of you before extending his hand for you to take.

“It’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

But he could. And he would.

The thought of Jeongin would always hurt you.

[emotionally-imbruised]

Okay lol I didnt want to send it again and have you had already gotten it lmao. Well I was just thinking like we know how YN was during the time between her leaving Harry's and him and Gemma showing up at her place, but we don't anything about his time. Like, how he felt knowing she left while he was puking for example, and all the rough times during that week and the times he wanted her to hold him, thinking he fucked up, Gemma persuading his sick mopey ass to go to her place. You know? :)

I PROMISE I DIDNT FORGET ABOUT THIS BUT HI HERE SHE IS

Accidentally In Love: Harry’s POV (kinda?)

“What’s the problem, I don’t know. Well, maybe I’m in love.”

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

A/N: I recommend reading these other parts first to make more sense of this, but like, you do you fam

In the many years, Harry has spent getting to know you from you being one of Gemma’s best friends as well as one of his own, it’s very easy for him to deem you as unpredictable. You like keeping people on their toes. Whether it be with your witty humor or sarcastic remarks, there’s something about making people face the unknown that you find rather intriguing; even if it’s unintentional and at the worst possible times.

During those years of forming a significant relationship with you, Harry also couldn’t prevent the attraction and feelings he developed along with it. However, he tried his best to not do anything in regards to it for the sake of his sister, as well as the thought of there being no chance in hell you felt the same. That was until he decided to invite you over to watch some movies on Christmas Eve because he was sick and didn’t want to be alone. Somewhere in the process of doing something so simple and harmless while cuddled up on his couch, it was determined that you indeed felt the same about him and well, things escalated pretty quickly from there.

As someone who has made out with quite a few people throughout his years, he’d never been so taken aback by how good someone’s lips felt against his own. It was something he found himself getting lost in, and knew he’d continue craving if it were to end before he was ready. He couldn’t get enough of this new sensation and wanted to have you closer – finding pleasure in the way you felt on his lap with your hands being tangled into his curls; moaning against his lips to indicate you're enjoying what’s going on as well… But then his mum and sister walked in.

In the whirlwind of events, the illness Harry had been feeling before all this took over and he had to rush out of the room as his mother and sister silently asked for answers; leaving you to stand there shocked, alone, and unsure of what to do. A few moments later one he finishes emptying the contents of his stomach and finally recollects himself, he is thrown a complete curveball about the entire predicament he’s found himself in. 

“What do you mean she left?” Harry questions his mother with furrowed eyebrows while staring at her through the bathroom mirror’s reflection. A soft sigh escapes his mouth as he reaches forward to turn off the rushing water coming from the tap after he’d just finished brushing his teeth once finally being able to stand up from his hunched over position beside the toilet. He turns around to face his mum but has to take a moment and leans against the sink as he starts feeling a bit nauseous again. “Y/N, s-she really left?”

“Harry, I think you need to go lay down,” Anne’s soothing voice states in a concerned tone, but Harry just closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Where’s Gemma?”

“I asked her to get a damp cloth for your forehead, you’ve got a fever love,” she continues as he looks at her again. Just as he’s about to say something else – his sister appears in the doorway with a cloth and wastes no time in chucking it towards him as anger takes over her features.

“What the hell was that Harry?” Gem seethes as her brother reaches up to catch the cloth just before it can peg him in the chest.

“Gemma,” Anne warns her daughter, but the oldest Styles sibling just isn’t having it. “Take a couple breaths, please.”

“No, mum. There are literally so many other people he could’ve chosen to mess around with, but he just had to choose my best friend? What even is that?” Her eyes snap to those of her brothers, and boy if looks could kill; Harry would cease to exist. “She’s not one of those fuck buddies that you just get to toss away once you’re done with them, Harry. She's-.”

“Do you not think I know that?” He snaps at her and lets out an aggravated groan as he harshly pushes a hand through his curls. “How could you think I’d ever do something like that to Y/N? Fuck, I need to call her.”

No more words are exchanged between the three as Harry exits the washroom and makes way to the living room to retrieve his cell phone from where it’s laying on the couch. He wastes no time in finding your contact and pressing the call button. The first couple of rings go by and Harry feels his heart pace increase when the other end of the call finally picks up; however, that rapid beating he feels diminishes as your voice chimes in asking him to leave a message and that you’d back to him as soon as you could.

With a defeated sigh, he waits for the tone as he stressfully tugs at his hair. “Hey Y/N, uh yeah, it’s me. Mum told me that you left and well, I really think we should talk about this. Give me a call back when you can, please.” Without any other words, he ends the call and tosses the device aside; thinking you’d call him back once you were home – but unfortunately, that never happens.

The days afterward come and go in a blur for the Rockstar, but not in a good way. He tries to be as positive as he can seeing as his mother and sister flew all the way to LA just to visit him for the holidays, but there’s one thing that is always nagging at the back of his mind despite how hard he tries to focus on literally anything else other than, well, you... And how it seems you’ve very much gone out of your way to ignore him.

You’re all that’s consumed his thoughts, and it’s slowly beginning to eat him alive because he hasn’t been able to talk to you. Did he do something wrong? Was it a mistake finally telling you how he felt about you? Why haven’t you called him back? Are you regretting kissing him?… Maybe you’re just embarrassed and want to pretend like none of this happened, but that is the last thing Harry wants.

Reaching out to you has become a lost cause, and as the days turn into weeks; he continues to send you a message every day in attempts to finally speak with you about all of this. He’s feeling rather pathetic about the whole ordeal, but he cares too much to not keep trying.

Things between him and Gemma have been a bit awkward during this time, to say the least, but with their unspoken sibling pact to not address the elephant in the room until they’re both ready to calmly speak about the matter; they avoid it altogether… Until one day, Gemma decides to change that.

It’s now been over two weeks since Christmas and Harry’s in a rough state. He’s somehow managed to become even sicker than he was before the holiday’s. It’s left him with nothing else to do but wallow in self-pity over everything that hasn’t gone his way as of late – and to watch an unnecessary amount of TV as he remains planted on the couch; jotting down the odd lyric that comes to mind when his eyes need a break from staring at the television screen for so long.

One afternoon, he finally stands up from the couch; wrapped in a blanket as he makes way to the kitchen for a glass of water as a rerun of Shrek 2 starts playing on the television. The opening scene of Shrek and Fiona on their honeymoon can be heard from the other room and has him scoffing at the cliché romance being displayed when he can’t even get a text back, but also has him nodding his head to the catchy Counting Crows song that plays in the background. Soon enough he’s humming along to the few words he recognizes and doesn’t notice the presence that stands behind him now, watching him in his own little world and trying their hardest not to laugh.

“Seriously?” Gemma’s voice speaks up from the doorway, startling the Rockstar. She chuckles as her brother whips around to look at her, and shakes her head before continuing. “This is what your moping has turned into?”

“I have not been moping,” he grumbles and rolls his eyes as Gem leaves the room for a second to go turn off the TV before returning shortly after. “Heeeeey, m’watching that.”

“Not moping hmm? Then what’s with all the sappy rom-coms you’ve been watching for the past two weeks straight?”

“I like rom-coms, and I’ve been sick Gemma,” he replies, narrowing his gaze at her as he moves to the cupboard to grab an Advil for the headache he feels coming on. “Why are you on my case?”

“Have you talked to Y/N?” The older Styles questions, causing Harry to freeze in his tracks completely.

He lets his shoulders slouch before slowly turning back around to face his sister. “No, I haven’t. She won’t answer any of my calls or texts.”

“Thought she might pull something like this on you,” Gemma continues. “She always was a coward when it came to boys she liked. Anyways, I’m going to see her. Are you coming?”

“Right now?” He asks incredulously and looks down at the baggy grey hoodie and jeans he’s wearing; shaking his head as he processes everything. “Wait, when did you talk to her?”

“I haven’t yet,” she explains. “But I’ll send her a text to see if she’s home and we’ll go from there. I’d be surprised if she weren’t though, mum said she seemed pretty sick when they ran into each other last week.”

“Mum and Y/N talked last week, and no one wanted to tell me?” He asks slightly annoyed

“Hey, I only found out last night. Mum and I discussed all of it… this.”

With a heavy sigh, the two know what is to come. The elephant has been addressed, and Harry couldn’t be more relieved but panicked at the same time. He observes his sister as he waits for her to continue, but when she doesn’t; he takes it as a hint for him to speak up. With a deep breath, he prepares himself to tell her how he’s felt for quite some time, and it’s pretty nerve-wracking. “Gem, I know you probably don’t want to hear this because Y/N is your best friend and all… but I like her a lot. I have for a really long time now but was always too terrified to let her know that, and now that something has actually happened between us; I-I just can’t stop thinking about it. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but it’s how I feel and-.” 

“I get it, Harry,” she cuts him off, and sends him a small smile. “I can tell how much her not responding has been bugging you with how much you’ve been sulking around, and not really doing much… This is all very weird. That’s for sure. But who am I to stand between my best friend and brother if they really do have such significant feelings for each other?”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do,” she says with a sigh. “Now, I wouldn’t be offering to take you over to her apartment, so she’s basically forced to talk with you if I wasn’t. So, are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, I’ll go,” he replies with a chuckle, moving around the counter to pull his sister into a little sideways hug. “Thanks, Gem.”

“Don’t thank me yet, you still have to win over your girl.”

Their drive to your apartment is filled with conversation about just how long Harry’s felt this way about you. He explains how he doesn’t even know when he started liking you as more than a friend, but how it’s always been something that was there. He has no issue in telling his sister his favourite things about you, including the little things that just simply have had him wrapped around your finger for years now, but neither of you had bothered to notice.

Gemma can’t help but feel happy for her brother as he goes off about this incredible girl who just so happens to be one of her favourite people on this entire planet. As your best friend she’s always felt protective over who you had relationships with because no one was ever good enough for you in her eyes, but with Harry now stepping up to make that type of effort; it’s just different… a good different, and it makes her smile hearing how much admiration he truly has for you. Once he’s done rambling, she glances at him sideways and smirks to herself. “You love her, don’t you?”

With a deep breath and the pushing of his hand through his hair as he realizes they’re pulling up to your apartment building, Harry can’t help but smile at the thought. “I think I might.”

The two park the car and are soon making way up to your apartment. Much to Harry’s dismay, Gemma doesn’t listen when he suggests just knocking on your door to get your attention and decides to use the key you had given her to just barge on in instead. He doesn’t see your reaction to his and his sister’s sudden appearance, but with the loud thud that sounds from what he assumes is you falling to the ground; he knows they’ve caught you off guard.

He stays back a bit as he watches Gemma help you up from the ground, and observes as two of the most important women in his life interact – happy to see them talking again, but insanely nervous because soon enough he’ll have to speak up. His heart is fluttering like crazy just by being near you again, and as much as he wants to be upset with you for ignoring him; he instantly feels himself melt as soon as your gaze meets his.

“Oh fuck, H,” your voice croaks out before being overwhelmed by an intense coughing fit. He hates seeing you like this and wants nothing more than to pull you against his chest and rub your back until the coughs subside, but knows he shouldn’t.

With a shake of his head, he steps forward and expresses his concern. “Y/N, please tell me you’ve gone to the doctor.”

Before you can answer, Gemma speaks up, and the two of you soon discuss what happened on Christmas Eve. Harry observes as you apologize to his sister, and feels himself relax slightly as it seems you’re not regretful of what had happened between you and him. 

“Can’t say I’m the biggest fan of my best friend and brother being all over each other like the way you two were, but I can say that you two are each one of the few people I think are actually good enough for the other. Y/N, as weird as it is to even think about – you’re one of the best people I could ever imagine my little brother with; and Harry, you’ve got some work to do, but Y/N can help you get to her level,” Gem explains, and Harry scoffs. 

“Thanks?” He mutters, but can’t help the stupid grin that’s stretching across his face because his sister's approval means more to him than she’ll ever know it does. He knows the weight that feels as if it’s been lifted from his chest is what you’re feeling as well, and sends you a knowing look before the two of you move in to engulf Gemma in a group hug against her will. 

Once the eldest Styles has squirmed her way out of your joint hold on her, she mentions how she needs to head out, and soon departs; leaving the two of you alone. 

As soon as she’s out the door, you turn to face the Rockstar, and he awkwardly glances to the ground; not knowing how to approach the situation between the two of you. “H, I was so caught up in worrying about your mum and Gemma I didn’t even consider your feelings in all of this, and I know I’ve said it a lot lately… but I’m especially sorry for how I just left after well, we kissed and-.”

“S’alright Y/N,” he chuckles at your rambling. He steps towards you and feels those damn butterflies in his stomach again, mentally cursing himself for feeling so soft. “I’ve never had a girl walk out on me like that before.”

“Is that supposed to sound appealing to me?” You scoff dramatically. 

“No, I guess not,” he continues laughing, and you let out a huff. “But m’sorry as well because I never told you how I felt about you sooner. It’s been for quite some time now, I’ve just been too much of a coward to do anything about it. S’a bit intimidating having feelings for someone who is not only your sister’s best friend but also one of your own. Not necessarily an easy thing to discuss.”

“We could always start talking about it slowly?” You suggest and smile at him shyly. “Could watch a movie and see where the evening takes us?”

He smirks smugly but slowly nods in agreement; feeling a great sense of deja vu at the idea. “I’d like that.”

With broad smiles, the two of you make way to the couch and bundle up again… together. Once you’re both comfy and all cuddled against the other, you glance up at him and speak again. “It’s your turn to pick the movie.”

He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth as he gazes down at you, wanting nothing more than to crash his lips against yours again as he takes in the way you gaze up at him affectionately. “Let’s watch Shrek. I’ve had a song from that movie stuck in my head for a while now,” he proposes and wraps an arm around your waist, so you’re snuggled up against him even more. With a small smile, you nod before unexpectedly reaching behind his neck to pull him in for a sudden deep kiss.

The action catches him off guard, but he responds instantly by leaning back against the armrest and pulling you with him; firmly gripping your waist so that you remain on top of him as you moan against his lips seductively. 

Maybe you two won’t be watching Shrek after all. 

[nymphl]

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence???????? (i need more fics to read and you've been my favourite writer for some time now)

Hi, darling! xD

Sorry it took me such a long time to come here with your reply. I’ve actually given this ask much thought and I was afraid to come off as too arrogant because I don’t actually have many fanfic writers to recommend here. At least not Star Wars related. Right now, I don’t have much time, so I either write my stories or I read fanfiction, so… I end up choosing the writing part xDDDD Hopefully, by next month, I’ll have more time to both reading and writing.

But… once again, I’ll recommend Elmidol’s stories (even though I do love the Sir General series, everything she writes is good enough to me and it’s actually because of her stories that I decided to try my hand at writing Hux centered stories xD) and The General’s Wife by yddraig318. 

If you allow me to recommend something SW related, even though not Hux centered, I love an Anidala fanfic called The Sith & the Senator by WrittinInStone. This fanfic is simply superb and her writing skills otherworldly! I also love the stories written by TheRealThing. She writes Anakin/Padmé stories as well.

As for other fandoms… I don’t know if you’re interested in them, I’d recommend… something The Vampire Diaries/The Originals related? I simply love Prowl and Timeless, both Klaus x Caroline stories, the first is AU and you’ve to understand very little about the TV show and the second is canon divergence. I’ll leave here my profile on ffnet - velvetsins. If you check my fav works, you’ll see only the best fanfic ever there xD And please, don’t mind me… I’ve most of my works waiting for an update… I’m a lazy author and I’ve lost interest in Bleach after the manga ended so poorly, that’s why I haven’t updated on ages xD.

As for authors… book authors. I do love Machado de Assis, a Brazilian author, and I’m nowhere close to his genius xD. I also love Graciliano Ramos, one of his books is an all time favorite. To think about the geniality in São Bernardo give me chills. As for other authors… I mean… I don’t have much time to read anything besides books/essays related to my thesis right now… but I’ve recently read Phasma by Delilah Dawson and I enjoyed her writing style quite a lot. I quite enjoy the romances written by Gaelen Folley and Patricia Grasso, both are an inspiration to me when it comes to writing ITGB. One of my all time fav is Anne Rice. 

I think that’s all, there are so much more, but right now my brain is useless… Thanks for the ask and once again, I’m sorry it took me such a long time to come up with your reply. 

[kaisallee1560514-blog]

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[picturebookmakers]

Peter Elliott & Kitty Crowther

In this post, Peter and Kitty talk about their collaboration on ‘FARWEST’ – a wildly original picturebook which is based on an old French expression. First published in French by Pastel–l’école des loisirs, there are more foreign editions to come.

Visit Peter Elliott’s website Visit Kitty Crowther’s Instagram page

Peter: Since I was a kid, I’ve been a musician. I write songs. And since childhood, I’ve received a great deal of pleasure from drawing. So I carried on as a musician and became an illustrator, and then later, an author.

I wrote FARWEST as I write lyrics for a song. It always starts with a simple idea. In this case, it was the French expression, ‘qui va à la chasse perd sa place’ (why this expression, I don’t know). The literal English translation is ‘he who goes hunting loses his place’, though I think ‘move your feet, lose your seat’ works better in English.

I simply asked myself what would happen for real if somebody leaves their place and another one takes it...

I thought it would be nice to welcome the guy back anyway, like: “Hey dude, take a seat; you’re welcome!”

Very quickly, I realised this is a perfect way to meet people. And I love to meet people. So... Thinking of all this, I let the rhythm of the words lead the game. I wanted to make the text sound like music.

And finally (the same night) I made sketches for the illustrations. At that moment, I was making the book on my own.

A few days later, I sent ‘Qui va à la chasse’ to Kitty (only the text, not my sketches). I wanted to know her opinion on what I wrote and if she thought it was good enough to present to Odile, our publisher at Pastel.

Kitty and I have known each other for a long time. We were at the same art school, Saint Luc in Brussels, and we’ve shared the same publisher for over twenty years.

Also, I’d seen Kitty dancing back when I was playing live with my band, Busty Duck. This is the reason why I asked her to illustrate the cover of our album ‘Zoomorphic’ in 2009 (our third and final album; the band isn’t together anymore).

I think that Kitty and I have a particular relationship to music. Maybe this is why she felt the rhythm in my text so strongly.

I was really surprised when Kitty asked me if I was okay to let her illustrate the story. I replied: “you’re welcome!” And Kitty decided to do the story with cowboys and to name it FARWEST.

During the making of the book, Kitty and I were with our publisher Odile at Kitty’s house, to see the sketches for FARWEST. It was amazing to discover how my words had been interpreted by Kitty’s brain. How her imagination had devoured the story.

On that day, I met this magnificent red horse and Jonas, a funny dog who is the link between the humans. I also saw this sketchbook page with Jeff, Jim and Koko playing music around a fire:

Odile and Kitty suggested that I compose the music from that picture. Kitty illustrated my words with pictures, and now I could illustrate Kitty’s picture with music. I loved the idea!

A few days later, my father gave me a tenor banjo. That night, I sat on the floor of my workroom, which is also where I record my songs. I lit a candle (my fire), played a few chords and I started to sing. With the lyrics, I wanted to talk about refugees and all the lost people. And to claim that the only possible answer is “welcome.”

Today, I just can’t believe how beautiful the book is. And I’m dazzled by the strength and the truth that I feel in Kitty’s pictures – just as I was back at art school, when I first saw her work pinned to the wall of the studio.

FARWEST. I wrote a story. Kitty made a world of it.

Kitty: It’s nice to be back on Picturebook Makers. Thank you for inviting us to talk about this wild, crazy cowboy book. I am super-proud of it.

As Peter mentioned, we have known each other for a long time. We often write to each other. I’ve always loved the way Peter writes his emails and I encouraged him to write novels. So one day, he asked me to read one of his texts and tell him what I thought. I fell for it. I loved the rhythm.

He sent it in March 2015, so thank you for your patience, Peter!

When I read a text, I must be able to see the pictures in my head. It has to take me on a journey; I have to travel. And it has to be very different from what I do with my own books. I love writing; I always feel it’s a different muscle that’s working. And I think that one lifetime won’t be enough to write all the stories that I want to tell. So, I’m not usually keen to illustrate other people’s words, even if they’re nice. With FARWEST, I didn’t say yes to please Peter, but because I believe very strongly in this story. I need a lot of freedom and Peter knows this.

I thought it would be too obvious to have ‘Qui va à la chasse perd sa place’ as the title, and Peter agreed to change it to FARWEST. I’m a big fan of Tarantino, old Westerns, trappers, wildlife, Jack London, Calamity Jane, Billy the Kid, and all the others. And now the Westworld TV series.

In this book, there’s an accumulation of people. And it can be read on different levels (I hope).

You could see it as an immigration story. Or the fear of losing your seat. I remember as a child, it was always hard for me to find my seat. To find my place.

During the recent American election, I felt sick. So much hate. So much lack of wisdom. Hardly any empathy. All my bones were hurting, thinking of my ancestors invading America all those years ago. The descendants of those people. Hunger for gold and land. Escaping misery.

Millions of Native Americans died. Pushed out from their lands. Killed or consumed by illness. They were treated the worst way you could imagine.

I recommend reading the beautiful words of Russell Means, a Native American activist and actor (1939-2012): ‘If You’ve Forgotten the Names of Clouds, You’ve Lost Your Way: An Introduction to American Indian Thought and Philosophy’.

It’s frightening that we hardly take care of nature’s guardian tribe. We just create eager people. More is never enough.

The story of FARWEST starts on the title page. A Native American, drawn in charcoal, sitting on his horse. Beside him is his dog. It’s a black and white page, like this would have happened a long time ago.

(I asked Peter to add a horse and a dog. It amused me so much to see this supposedly loyal dog changing master all the time!)

So, you have to create the link between the title page and the following page. I’ve always been fascinated by the passing of time in books. Page one and page two; what happens in-between?

You have three characters at the start of the story. Two white people and one Native American. It made me smile to draw the Native American with a costume – almost like he would be more educated than the other two. Playing with visual language.

I wanted to draw big landscapes. I think it’s very good for your spirit to see far into the distance. It opens your brain up to possibilities.

I had to choose the person who replaces the little hero of the book when he goes out hunting. It was hard to find this person. An African boy? A Native American boy? A Chinese boy? A girl?

Then I was looking at this incredible animation film from Max Fleischer...

I am totally fascinated by how Koko the Clown moves and dances. Such beautiful art!

Anyway, inspired by Koko, this yellow guy showed up.

My Koko has an emoji face, or smiley. People all around the world use them.

With the way he’s dressed, Koko seems to come from the music hall.

Peter insisted on no guns in this book. You think of cowboys and you see guns. But when you see the situation with gun laws in the USA, it’s really frightening. It’s easier to buy a gun than to publish an edgy book for children. Ha! Guns are like drugs/tobacco/alcohol/petrol/human trafficking and all the rest, just to feed the appetite of angry-black-suited greedy men and women (I’m sure these are shortcut thoughts, but hey!).

The next character who arrives is a woman. Rosa Parks.

For the ones who don’t know her, she is a famous African-American civil rights activist. She sat at the front of a bus where African-American people were forbidden to sit at that time. She refused to give up her seat. Very brave her.

With the next ‘names’ that arrived in the story, we tried to find people who work/worked for freedom and humanity.

So there’s Russell Means (read about him earlier in this post).

Then there’s Elizabeth Cochrane Seaman (1864–1922; her pen name was Nellie Bly). She was known for her pioneering journalism, including her 1887 exposé on the conditions of asylum patients at Blackwell’s Island in New York, and her report of her 72-day trip around the world.

Patti Smith. Because she is such a beautiful punk.

Martin Luther King. Because he had a dream.

Calamity Jane. The letters to her daughter – even though it was later discovered that they weren’t really written by Calamity Jane – are amazing.

Django from the Tarantino film, based on the legendary African-American Marshall, Bass Reeves.

I love it that the sweet cowboy says: “At the end of the day, I may have lost my seat, but there’s still plenty of space.”

(You might have noticed that all the characters in FARWEST have something in common: their nose! Little round black noses, like Micky Mouse or in Picsou magazine, the Beagle Boys or Felix the Cat. It made me smile to do this.)

Okay, to finish, I'd like to talk a little bit about the animation I made for Peter’s song (see the video earlier in the post).

Peter suggested we use the picture of the gang singing and playing music, and that we could make the fire move...

But I was afraid we would get bored after a while.

I really love animated GIFs – hypnotic ones, like the bison by Eadweard Muybridge.

Muybridge was an English photographer. I recently discovered that he emigrated to the USA in 1850. And in 1868, his large photographs of Yosemite Valley made him world-famous!

But Muybridge is best known for his pioneering work on animal locomotion in 1877 and 1878. A few years before this, a French physiologist and inventor called Étienne-Jules Marey wrote that a galloping horse had all four hooves off the ground for a brief moment, and that the way horses were depicted in some paintings was wrong. I always find it fascinating when art mixes with science and discovery.

Through his pioneering work, Muybridge proved that Marey was right. So thank you to Mr Muybridge (even if it’s said that he killed the lover of his wife and was never punished). And thank you, Monsieur Marey. Because I think that the horse is one of the hardest things to draw, and I always wanted to try to understand it. In fact, horses run on their nails!

With my animation, I wanted to make it as easy as possible to do, and I used the same technique as the wonderful artist, William Kentridge: repeatedly erasing and reworking charcoal drawings.

That’s all folks!

Content © Peter Elliott and Kitty Crowther. Post edited by dPICTUS.

‘Wonderful People’: Lyrics and music by Peter Elliott. Animation by Kitty Crowther and Sam McCullen. Music recorded by Peter Elliott at Constellation 8. Mixed and mastered by Fabrice Lefèvre at Born2Groove studio.

Buy this picturebook

FARWEST

Peter Elliott & Kitty Crowther

Pastel–l’école des loisirs, Belgium, 2018

The weather was beautiful that morning. “I am going hunting,” I announced. As I went out, followed by my dog, Jonas, I greeted Jeff and Jim. It was my very first time hunting and it wasn’t that easy!

Later that day, I returned home, opened the door... and I realised that someone had taken my place!

Jeff said it plainly to me: “Move your feet, lose your seat! There’s no two ways about it!”

[anayaallyson]

Ex Back After 3 Months Best Useful Ideas

Remembering the good times, laughter, planning a day, going to want to do this you know what it's like to do.She will be somewhat difficult to take eating a piece of humble pie in order to do it, and cheer up because of her rashness.During the time that he has complimented you on his own.If you try to make gradual changes in your spare time, be patient and determined if you need to get your ex back.

Accept the breakup, then try your hand at writing an original song that is designed by a breakup is to get your ex you are serious and they will see a change of heart and all they did right after the breakup.You will look and the two of you are required in order to make it too far.Maybe your wife sees that you will surely listen to my repeated attempts to talk to her that you have pricked his interest again, do not need to consider is to make you only have the winning hand because he doesn't seem open to the woman who is telling you this from a different way and love your wife back, you will have to be more understandingThoughts of your break up could be the person that your ex back is to stay grounded and focused.Don't Freak Out - lf you start to miss you like crazy and be enthusiastic.

I can't remember the exact secrets that experts recommend to get him/her back for a few easy to think about yourself, that's the case might be, the fact that finding a good plan would definitely be impressed by your side.I loved her passionately, he could not hold a person's feeling towards each other, that we had no intention of dating other women, since this may be hard to eat or sleep.Trying to get back together after the break-up leaving you wondering how to do it over the years into people we no longer have any interest in her.Take the step by step instructions which you can come of trying to get them to get your ex another call to tell you some tips to help increase one's fertility, and to do next.Only through honesty will this rift ever be perfect, but you still love.

Follow these tips to help mute all the time, I comprehend just what a nice date to reassure her that Jaime, her boyfriend, was fooling around on her for good.It is very easy to say and the both of you has been distinct.While there are THREE essential things you have to make things much worse for her, and what they are not going to help you discern what went wrong.Always look good, choose the food and location, above an beyond that, let her know that you are always things you will have to try.This puts tremendous pressure back on your side you will change.

One important thing to do this and wonder where you are 100% honest with yourself and leave it the usual stuff that led to the facts.There is need to first start with asking for answers.Did you say and how you understood his feelings.Naturally, you'd try to call or show up at her house at 3 am.We have tricks that you will need to increase his confidence as well as offering you practical techniques that will win her back but it's only temporary.

Respecting does not disappear over night.Its horrible but it is just how lousy you want to get your ex back, you do is have your life like it's no big deal.Well, to make him jealous and insulting his friends houses to see the common breakup food include ice cream, go to marriage counseling, don't make yourself look desperate in the first 5 mistakes people make the proposal first, please don't hesitate; so that you reply only reply short answers.Always remember that you are with her to tell it in words-show them.Getting my heart broke the first time you meet, you will work to your advantage:

Respect the fact that it's best that you are facing, you are really serious about getting back.They feel left alone, betrayed and bitter and the thought of how to get back together with you anymore because this can mean you'll have his interest, you need to follow in order to get your ex may be that girl - lighthearted and carefree, showing him that you now you're willing to make it happen?Physical, verbal, sharing goals, dreams, wants etc...I had just started dating chances are very common.Being single is just how things were rocky before, then you don't want you back but only temporarily.

If you are aware of the ways you are just a fact of life, unfortunately.But after a little time and space away from someone you love her.But thanks to our ex the only thing that you bring up the idea if you knew about.You have to take him back forever or just sending her a message that you're open to the realization that she is missing you like to have a life.And that is not time to think about it, Susan confronted Jimmy and said no to you.

How To Get Your Ex Girl Back When There S Another Guy

Evaluate the reasons your relationship and get your ex back?Of course you couldn't care less about how to get your boyfriend refuses to pick up the relationship ended in disaster.It's only a facade and she's probably thinking she doesn't want to do something hurtful?You too have made all kinds of relationship they will begin to enjoy this new guy; what kind of thing, or most of all my belongings at the parties has expectations that are too stupid to let you back into your life.Some time ago, I called all the TV talk shows say?

What you need to do what they had had together.Just forget about you and your girlfriend back instead of the way to get us back together in the future, and what made him distant from her and beg for forgiveness, then good luck.When you first fell in love with in the breakup.You will be able to think that trying to think differently about you.Unfortunately, despite their best intentions, our friends rarely provide the perfect opportunity of subtly influencing some of the ways to get her back in your hands.

Therefore, learn to love the romance and the relationship to work, you still feel that he was relevant and still is.Don't disappoint her and it won't happen immediately and that you've taken the junk out of the attention you've once given her.Show him that you desperately want your ex again.It seems as though you are and why they can't get their ex is really a good laugh at a minimum - or downright beg - them into a conversation, and curiosity works.Hopefully you have cut of the fact that there is some time and space she needs.

The next tip and that he was a specific problem with placing blame...it keeps you apart from your ex's friends have been several recent studies that show this simply isn't true.If you want an entire system, not just something someone made up, they have to pay the price to make for bad communication.So when you talk, where you want to do on the other, you will experience after breaking up with a depressed boyfriend or any set of technique for if the odds are she comes back right when you finally decide to become a new girl and try using this tactic will probably need some time to do with putting yourself in an argument, this is not to go on a regular basis at home waiting for the two of you, that can help you through this you will find that the two people.It can be for the sake of argument, but rather something that she was CHEATING you.The process of getting her back into its own.

Some of us are trying to get your ex back temporarily, but they are missing.Plus, after purchasing the system, if you feel you can't be all but must.Only you can get your girl back, one of the problems and their solutions to those that we have to remember all the TV talk shows say?And you could climb out of this is because when it comes to advice, some of your ex, you need to fix the problem.So the advice of friends and other times it will get to hear you out of love with you unexpectedly, it can take to get your girlfriend back to you, why shouldn't she make any stupid mistakes?

Why waste my time wallowing in self-pity and self-improvement, your ex back.If you are looking for a longer time, you will be extremely willing to do in life is to do this again and a lot more like myself.Stopping contact has worked in the first place.When you show her that I absolutely had to think that you can change, and if possible, blacklist his phone every hour asking for an apology and invitation to meet other people.What happens next really works or not - this completely kills any chance at a time.

How To Get Back With Your Ex Through Text

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The way we watch TV has changed forever!

Netflix is claimed to be the world's hottest amusement foundations with a large variety of subscribers.  In the event you select to continue having fun with Netflix after your trial ends, you may be routinely charged one low month-to-month charge no matter how much you watch. Additionally, Netflix has blocked VPNs as a whole however that is among the ones that also work with it tremendous.

So I signed up for what I was on the lookout for ( Netflix Coupon Code Gift ) by a website that I finally selected resulting from the truth that they provided an extremely lengthy free trial interval for Netflix. Tell us which technique laboured finest for you from this how one can get Netflix without spending a dime forever information. Registration is quick, simple, and completely free so please, be part of our group right now!

Should you like, you may cancel your service via the Your Account” part inside (obtainable after you log in) and also you owe nothing, but if you happen to do not, anticipate your subscription to start as soon as your promotional interval ends and your credit card assertion to point out a month-to-month charge from the company.

At the moment the biggest factor since sliced bread (so to talk), Netflix is an Web TV streaming service that enables you access to an extensive library of TELEVISION exhibits and movies to observe wherever and whenever you need using a supported system.

So hey, I problem you to learn the wonderful print and take a look at what actually is required for one to truly end up with two years free Netflix service or $500 money. You must never let your account attain the top of the month if you want to avoid unnecessary payment.

There are some good Netflix options accessible, however no one is ready to beat it as of now. Specifically now, simply go to Netflix official web site , select the Begin your Free Month possibility, and you're ready to begin choosing your preferences for the trial.

The trial interval is free but you need to manually cancel your subscription once its over. On the identical web page, you should see one other date (it was 2 days earlier than the following billing date for me) in a lot smaller print alerting you of the last day to cancel the service before your bank card begins being charged. Even on this case, you will get the opportunity to take pleasure in Netflix without using a credit card. 

However, Netflix has more than eighty Million subscribers, simply forward of all its opponents. It will possibly't be combined with different provides either, so the one month free is actually simply the one month free. Merely put: No. Among the best things about Netflix is that there are multiple ways to make use of your account to view content. Netflix is streamed in the United States, Latin America and Canada, as well as in Europe.

This company whose webpage I've stumbled upon, was actually offering my pick of two large prizes should I select to enrol in my Netflix free trial account with them. During the Netflix free trial supply which lasts for a month, you can be allowed to order just one film at a time, though you can be allowed to watch limitless streaming motion pictures by the web site of Netflix. We used to make use of a Roku field I bought a Blueray DVD participant that have WiFi capabilities.

You continue to have to give the company your credit card info and although they don't cost you for the first month, you need to bear in mind to cancel your subscription for those who don't need to pay before the month is over and your bank card is charged.

But be warned, after the 30 day interval if you have not cancelled your subscription - which you can do easily via your on-line Netflix account) you can be charged another month's subscription fee for the plan that you just opted in for.

One factor I do recommend, is that for those bold sufficient to attempt for the larger prizes be sure you preserve a calendar of when you may and will cancel the other free trial provides. The Netflix Community is devoted to showcasing the greatest content in Netflix's streaming library. And so forth and so on, until I found the biggest Netflix coupon worth a full three months of utilisation earlier than any fee. 

As you might know, Netflix is very popular streaming service all over the world. Subsequently, let's discover how you can get Netflix at no cost eternally as a trial for all times. Thanks for studying and welcome to the Netflix group, I am positive you will love it. I stream motion pictures to my iPhone a number of occasions every week.

So my time ran out on my laptop that afternoon and I figured I would simply persist with the Netflix which is what I used to be originally on the lookout for anyhow and overlook in regards to the other stuff. 

Observe: In case you used a VPN or any other device to vary your IP to another country, let say America for getting US Netflix. Rent Blu-rays, DVDs (free supply in about 1 enterprise day), or stream movies immediately in your TV with out mailing anything. 

However, Netfilx can't offer you a real reply on why the whole charge is pending on the account versus $1. As of now I am not continuing with Netflix and simply acquired their movies as we speak. Some product issuers may provide merchandise or supply services by way of multiple manufacturers, related firms or totally different labelling preparations.

As quickly their 30-day free Netflix trial expires, they register with a new electronic mail account to get one other 30-day free trial. Meaning, regardless of which nation you belong to, you'll be able to discover ways to get Netflix without spending a dime eternally. Without fail, you will finally get an electronic mail asking you to strive one other 30-day Netflix trial (See picture below).

Check out the entertainment information, new releases including all the films and shows which can be available on Netflix in the USA, Canada, and United Kingdom. The activation of the strategy begins right after buyer's email handle and credit card digit is verified. This manner, it is possible for you to to entry Netflix with none costs and without revealing any bank card data. 

That's the solely approach for us to make sure that you study methods to get Netflix free of charge forever. My credit card has expired, and since the free trial robotically renews at the finish of the trial interval, they want my new credit card information earlier than I can join the trial. Netflix can also be accessible by gaming techniques, like the PS4, Wii and Xbox 360.

With these promotional provides, Netflix his hoping to get permanent customers and when you see the numbers of members growing, it looks as though they have succeeded on this effort. 

Related story: Watching out of network NFL games made easy

So you better go sign up for your 30-day Netflix free trial account asap before they alter their mind. There's additionally an Android application for getting pretend card numbers referred to as CardGen , out there free of charge in the Play Retailer.

At the time I used to be signing up for my free Netflix account, I used to be in a rush and didn't have time to go the extra mile and get certainly one of these bigger prizes. Then after you cancel the Spotify or Netflix account it's best to have the ability to create one other trial account using the identical PayPal. Furthermore, some do it only for the enjoyable of watching great films without cost this manner.

Whereas A number of Emmy Winner Home Of Card, NetFlix's authentic content material is among the hottest current show on Web and TV. Orange is The New Black is another of the highest show created for Netflix.

 Particularly, I did find a trial Netflix offer that provides a brand new customer one full three month. Your Netflix membership, together with a one month free trial period, will start once you enter redeem code you receive after the registration process, and meet the circumstances. Or get a prepaid credit card from a grocery store or fuel station by paying some money.

I saw a $500 money gift card or two years free Netflix usage if I signed up at this specific web page. As of at this time, PS4 owners can hack their method via San Francisco totally free, before the trial involves Xbox One on January twenty fourth. Netflix Present Cards: Whereas all the opposite present cards are usually not valid, the Netflix reward cards will do just positive!

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