#jasper: oh no i caught feelings that might be made a problem for future jasper instead of me

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas24 Day 10: Demon Jasper

And we're right back on track. Well, ficmas-wise. I'll let y'all know when my life begins to look less like a Collection of Clowns and Buffoons.

Tonight, we've got the bewilderingly popular Demon Jasper (I feel like maybe I flew too close to some Booktok tropes with this one, lol). The sequel actually has a pretty intense plot lined up, and some of that is kind of hinted at in this section. Demon Jasper loves an opportunity to Emote, so he went wild in this little section.

And we have one more night unfilled at this point, so the Ask box remains open. If there is any verse that hasn't had it's moment (or I've promised something and forgotten), now is your time to mention it. We've got 3some-verse and STLAU P.2 still to come, so any other 'verse than those.

I hope you enjoy and have a grerat night!

warning some very vague sexual content. We're here for the sexual vibes not the content tonight.

Over the weeks, the need to sleep haunts him. It’s something that makes him slow and sluggish, makes the darkness bubble up from that void in the back of his mind. He tries to put it off, tries to stay awake longer, pouring over the books that Alice acquires for him.

She watches, but stays silent. He hates that she’s so good at giving him space, at letting him dictate the rules and boundaries of their relationship. He wants someone who pushes and annoys and bothers him, so he can yell and rage and threaten. He wants to be able to scare her away from him.

He only gives in to sleep when his demon form seeps out uncontrollably, like ink spreading down his arms, and the cracks begin to form along his biceps and jaw. It’s his body demanding recovery, and it’ll break him into pieces to get what it wants if it must.

So he gives in.

//

He dreams of her almost every single time and he hates every moment of it.

Pale and beautiful and willing. Who kisses him like she’s begging him. He dreams of them tangled up in bed together; of tracing every joint on her body with his tongue as a vampire and as a demon. The picture his brain paints is glorious, of his black tongue lapping at the bone-white of her skin.

She doesn’t flinch away from his form in the dream. She begs him to come closer.

(He knows that it’s just the void in his being that summons these dreams. It’s like having a second thing living inside him, a shadow-self that knows every iota of him and uses it all against him.)

Alice breaks him in the dream. A pretty pout and whispered negotiations as she rolls her hips against his. Anything you want he tells her reverently, and the bloody runes of creation rise on her skin as soon as he agrees to remake her. There’s no pain in the dream, no horror; just all the blood that sustains her spilling from those wounds around them. It smells like her, like flowers and ink and tainted honey, beneath the metallic tang of blood.

She’s going to be perfect. She is perfect. She was always meant to be this creature. The devil in his head whispers reverently.

He closes his eyes as she moves above him, trying not to make a sound even when his hips stutter against hers. But her name slips out, a hiss of pleasure and relief and adoration. Alice.

“Jasper.” There’s an answer in a sigh of delight, her face buried against him before she pulls away, leaving him cold.

When he opens his eyes, she’s smirking down at him; eyes blackened and rotting outwards, her lips welling with blood as she rejects the change and begins to die. Three days of slowly curdling and breaking down until there’s nothing left and he has to burn her.

That’s when he wakes up, when the hopelessness feels like it’s choking him so bad it’s a noose around his neck. At the realization of his weakness and what the wreckage could look like. That anything he looks at, he’s going to destroy. That the evil and the power inside him, the thing that Maria made him into, will swallow everything and anything that might bring him peace whole.

He can’t look at Alice after those dreams. The shame is too much.

(Not just the change and the death. The way he pictures her bare and laughing in his bed; the way his mind has conjured up how they would touch each other, how eagerly she accepted his touch… it’s not right. She’s been good to him, she doesn’t deserve that kind of disrespect.)

//

“I keep dreaming of you being remade like me,” he says gruffly, and she freezes before carefully sitting down beside him. He’s still not used to the way she dresses at the house; when he still dwelt in human society, everyone was covered up. But Alice, she wears garments that leave her arms, legs and stomach bare unless she’s hunting. He hates that it’s so distracting to him; it’s like she’s walking around missing a layer of vital armor to protect her from the rest of the world. And he hates, so very much, the idea that she trusts him enough to let her guard down in such a way. That he’s someone she can show this version of herself to. He’s seen her dress and leave for hunting or to stock up on the few regular supplies they need. Jeans, sweaters, jackets, boots that give her a couple of extra inches. She looks like an entirely different creature, a different woman, when she goes out into the real world.

There’s a thin scar, shallow, on her right thigh. She teases at it for a moment, as they sit in silence.

“You don’t have to worry, Jas,” she says kindly, and he’s oddly touched at the use of a nickname. “I know it’s hard for you to believe me, but I don’t want that. I don’t need that. That’s never something I’m going to ask you for.”

He wants to believe her. But if there’s nothing else that he’s learnt over his long life, it’s that everyone has a price. Everyone has a point where they forget their ethics and morals and beliefs, and they finally say yes. It’s just that some people come cheaper than others.

“Every single time, it goes wrong,” he says, as if she hasn’t spoken. “Every single time, I watch you get remade and you are perfect, you are gorgeous, and you’re the only thing I want. That…that piece that’s missing, that every single cell in my body and my mind is determined to find.”

He hears her breath catch but he doesn’t acknowledge it. “It’s…sublime. And then I look at you and it’s… I’ve destroyed you. I got it wrong and you’re already going bad and I either have to watch you breakdown and go rabid and rotten for three fuckin’ days, or I put you down myself. Because it does go bad, Alice. There are the ones that don’t make it through the process, that don’t even make it fair enough to be changed.

"And then there are the ones that do, they hold it together long enough to become this but they’re all wrong. The darkness chews them up, there’s nothing left of them. I’ve put down more than a few people who ended up like that. Not just Maria’s people. Strays, forgotten bodies, abandoned projects. They aren’t meant to last longer than three days, but sometimes they hold themselves together. There’s no way to save them, you understand? They’re already dead, and it’s just… evil squatting in a corpse.”

Her hand rests gently against his, and he’s surprised it is actually comforting.

“Of all the people that have ever come looking for me, you are the only one that does not deserve that fate,” he finishes hoarsely.

“Oh, Jasper.” Alice is looking at him with wide eyes, and he can feel the sadness leaking out of her. She’s still holding his hand. “Did I ever tell you how I found you?”

“You told me that you left your family to find me,” Jasper looks at her, and maybe he shifts his hand and curls his fingers slightly to almost-hold onto her hand. She’s wearing a ring; silver with a blue stone. It’s a colour that he associates with her; many of her clothes are a similar shade.

“I did. It took me years. I had to do a lot of research because I couldn’t see you and I didn’t know how to use my gift to find you. Thirty years of going from place to place, looking for a clue to find you. Anyone who knew me before would be shocked that I could live out of one bag for that long, somewhere the Cullens have all my things in storage.” She smiles at that to herself. “I went everywhere, and it led me to two places - the Vatican, where I wasn’t even going to attempt to gain access. I couldn’t even see if I would find what I was looking for, which makes me very curious about what they have in those archives.

“And Volterra.”

He tenses at that, dread sinking in. Volterra.

“Aro kept me busy for years and had a surprising amount on the subject of demons. A lot of them were partial accounts, especially around the rituals of creation and summoning.” Alice let out a sigh. “But the anthropological information was thorough. I know about the rituals and how badly they can go. I know that there is a level of fear, a level of pain, a level of evil I cannot comprehend. But you cannot surprise me with the depths of what you are. I know. And I was never afraid, because it wasn’t my world and it’s never going to be my world - ever since I woke up, I’ve never, ever seen myself as a demon. Even after I found you, that vision has never changed. You have me as I am. I have you as you are. That’s how it’s going to be, and I don’t care how long it takes you to understand that.”

She rests her head against his shoulder for a moment.

“Thanks for calling me gorgeous.” The strand of mischief runs through her, and he scoffs.

“You’re a monster, that’s what you are.”

“But your monster.” She looks up at him, her eyes a burnished amber colour, and her lips twisting into a playful smirk.

And that’s it. That moment with her smiling at him. That’s his girl, his sublime horror, his missing piece. The girl who will kiss him like the only man she’s ever seen in her life, who lets him sweep her into his arms and his bed and never flinches at the sight of his monstrosity.

It feels like, in that moment, the world has cracked open and he doesn’t know what to do. She doesn't have to be anything more than she is to be that missing piece, if you let her.

It felt easier to hate her and mistrust her than it does to love her.

//

He sees it out of the corner of his eye; his second-sight, the one that only usually kicks in when he’s transformed. Just for a second, but it was enough to make his blood run cold.

Alice, stretching as she walks through the house, her t-shirt riding up a few careless inches. And it’s there, a wound (time is ephemeral in his second-sight; it could be past-present-future. It simply Is.) A wound from one of his kind, incisors having sunk into her side. The bite is easily as wide as his hand, the scars dead and angry grey, with venom seeping outwards in black strands.

The sight is gone in a second and Alice is fine. She hasn’t noticed anything.

(She wouldn’t See it coming either; the shape of the incisors means someone on the spectral side of the demon pantheon, who are known for their ability to hide. He doesn’t understand how one of them would get close enough to her to bite like that. They aren’t easily provoked, something Alice says or does… or knows will trigger their rage.)

His chest feels tight. It won’t kill her, he knows that - he won’t allow it. But she’s going to suffer. She’s going to be hurt. And he has no idea how to stop it.

[escapetodreamworld]

the death of me

Esme Cullen x fem child of the moon reader

@rexburn12 

asked for a child of the moon reader who moves to fork the same time Bella does, and teaches at the high school. she smells Esme on one of the Cullen kids and imprints. and the same goes for Esme.

A/n I'm sorry this took me so long, I was burnt out and couldn't bring myself to write anything, even though I thought about this story and my other unfinished story’s the entire time. I hope you like it. PS I don’t know how to write werewolf character’s and I have no clue what teachers are like.

(Y/n) POV

'Just perfect... My first day teaching and I'm late.' You think to yourself, locking your front door. 'My first class starts in 14 minutes, if I speed a should make it there 2 minutes before the bell.' I think, groaning. Frantically pressing the unlock button on your car key, you jog down the sidewalk towards you car.

"Morning Miss (L/n), shouldn't you be at the school?" Your neighbor Charlie Swan asks. "Yes. I overslept." You say, stopping. You look at him, embarrassed.

"Well, i wont tell anyone." He laughs. 'Oh right, he was telling me yesterday, some towns people could be a little judgemental of newcomers' you smile appreciatively, heading towards your car again. "hey, my daughter, Bella. just start today, she a junior." Charlie says, he goings to continue but you beat him to it.

"I'll keep an eye on her." You promise. He nods his thanks. You smile, getting in your car.

You sit down at your desk, letting out a sigh. You made it a minute before a first bell rung. You don't really need to prepare anything, all you're doing today is roll call, so you can put faces to names and giving the kids a quiz just to see how far they've gotten and what they'll need help with in the future. The quiz in no way effects they're grades.

The bell rings. Students start entering the class room, taking they're seats. As they do, you get up and write your name in a dry erase board.

Once the last student enters, the door shuts behind them. You take a deep breathe. 'Here we go again' you think, then turn to the class.

"Morning, class." You get a few "mornings" back along with a few groans from the kids who aren’t awake yet.

"As you can see on the board my name is (Y/f/n)." You say, glancing around the class room before continuing. "I'm not going to give that speech all the other young teachers give. You're all Basically adults, you know how you should act in class." I finish saying, and stare at a boy who's been whispering to his friend about the new girl. 'Bella' you think as you continue to stare at him till his friend nudges him and he look straight into your eyes. He mumbles a "sorry" and starting paying attention.

You sigh "I'm not a mean teacher, I just think it's annoying when I'm teaching and someone thinks NOW, is the best time to talk about a girl." His friends starts laughing, while he starts turning red, and shrink down in his seat.

After the class laughs for a second, you apologize to him for singling him out and continue.

"Since its my first day, we're going to do two things. I'm going to call your names so I can put faces to the names on this list I have." You gesture to a piece of paper in hold.

"Then I'm going to hand out these quizzes so I can see where you're all at." Everybody groans at that. "I know, I know, I suck. Put this in no way affect your grades, but please try your hardest." You finish up the telling them what we're doing and go to lean on front of my desk, holding the piece of paper.

"Lets see... Katie Bell?" You say, looking up from the paper. A girl in the front says "Here." You smile at the girl then look at the next persons name.

"Alice Cullen?" You say, glancing around the room. "Here." A girl says, smiling at you. You freeze. Just for a second in real time but felt like forever to you. 'No' you think as you stare at this pale girl. 'No, there's no way. She wouldn't be in a school if it were true. Her eyes aren't red and she's not wearing contacts.' You snap out of it.

Quickly reading the next name on the list. "Edward Cullen." You say, and gulp. You look up, scanning the room for the boy who's name you just read. You see Alice kick the boy sitting next to her. You look at him to find him staring at you. More like glaring really. He has the same pale skin color as his sister. Another harder kick from Alice makes him snap out of it and answer "Here." He grunts.

You continue reading off names. Trying not to worry. Finally you've figured out everyone's names.

You then grabs the pile of papers from my desk. Normal you'd just hand them to a kid in the front to pass out but you need to get closer to the two Cullen. You need to know for sure.

You start walking don't the Isles passing our the quizzes. You started at the other side of the room to not look too suspicious. Finally getting over to them hand them they're papers. You inhale, and almost growl. You glance at Alice to see her trying to hold back a choking sound.

You quickly give out the rest of the papers and sit done at your desk quietly gasping for clean Air. You cough trying to clear your throat. You look up at the student's all of them waiting for you to tell them they can begin.

"Okay, when you've finish you may quietly play with your phone or read or whatever. you just can't leave till the bell. May you begin." You say, looking at everyone except the two pale kids in the back.

As the hour slowly ticks by, you keep glancing over at the Cullen's. Always looking away before you get caught. You noticed the finished there quizzes before anyone else and are now quietly talking amongst themselves. You don't even try to listen in on them, your too much in you're head to focus.

Finally the bell rings, students start grabbing there stuff and heading up to the desk to hand they're quizzes in. You take them, with a smile. saying goodbye to them as they pass.

The room slowly starts to clear out. Realizing the Cullen are in the back on the line of kids handing in they're papers. The smells a death getting stronger the fewer kids there are.

They finally get up to my desk, Edward puts the paper on your desk and leaves not without giving you a weird look before he does so. You watch him storm off, but the smell is still as strong as ever. Remember Alice is still here, you turn back to her quickly. She's standing there. Smiling, holding out her paper for you to take.

You do so, never breaking eye contact. You were the only people in the classroom. After a few seconds Alice flashes you a big smile then leaves.

'What an odd girl' you think shaking your head.

The rest of the day went by pretty fast. Only have three more problem through out the day. The names of these problems were Emmet, Jasper and Rosalie.

Five vampires at the school, that might become an even bigger problem soon. If they live in forks, you might run into them during a full moon. and that will end really badly for either them or yourself.

As you pack up to go home you hear a knock at the class room door. "Come in!" You yell, not looking up from the papers you're packing away.

The door opens and you don't even need to know who just walked in now, the smell of death hits you. It's getting easier to look past the smell though, you can tell that the Vampire that just walk in was Alice. You can smell her natural scent, lavender.

"How can I help you, Miss Cullen?" You say, finally looking up.

"Jasper left his coat in here"

"Ah yes, he ran out as soon as the bell rung."

You glance over at Jasper Hale's seat. There his jacket sat. Alice going to grab it. You finish grabbing your things, and walk to the door.

You open it and wait for Alice to grab the jacket and leave the classroom before you turn off the lights. Alice practically skips back over to you, now holding the jacket. You hold the door open for her, as she passes you're hit with a smell so strong your knees go weak and you have to grip the door for support.

You faintly hear Alice ask what was wrong, but you couldn't even look up at her let alone respond. Everything felt so never wrong yet so right. You've never felt something so powerful come over you before.

All you know is whomever that scent belongs too, will be the death of you, and you'll welcome it happily.

Just as quickly as it started it was over, you stand up right. Taking deep breaths, you look at Alice.

She's standing there, completely confused. You take another breath before saying as calmly as you can. "I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow Miss Cullen." You try to say it as dismissively as possible, in hope she'll leave. She does think a quick goodbye before she turns and walks down the hall.

Wasting no time, you turn the lights off, lock the door and leave.

Esme's POV

"Esme! We're home." You hear Alice say from the front door. You smile, and walk down stairs to see your children.

"Hi, how was school? I heard you were getting a new teacher today." You say, watch as the kids strip off they're coats and hang them up.

"It's was fine. The teacher is definitely different." Emmet says, and walks off to do his own things.

"She stinks if you ask me." Rosalie says, smirking at some hidden joke you don't understand. But Jasper chuckles.

You're about to ask why when you notice.

"Where's Edward?" You asks, looking around confused. The three kids in the room stop what they're doing. No one makes eye contact.

As panic starts to set in, you ask again. "Where's Edward?"

Alice is the first to speak up. "He had a problem with a new girl at school. He almost lost control today, so he left."

Sadness overwhelms you. Thinking about how Edward must feel, almost loosing himself, feeling the need to run.

"Where did be go?" You ask, but you're met with no answer. No one knew where he went.

A tear rolls down your cheek. You wipe it away. Rosalie hugs you, and you hold her tight not wanting to loose another kid.

Eventually you let her go, feeling calmer than a minute ago. You know Jasper's the reason for your calmness. You thank him and he nods. Rosalie and him head into the next room, leaving you with Alice.

She doesn't waste a second, hugging you. When she does, you smell something, you gag. But then something strong hits your senses. And all you can do is smile.

"Who's the wolf?" You ask, Pulling away from Alice. still smiling.

"Our new teacher. She's nice, once you get past the smell." Alice says, Then she spaces out. You of course know what’s happening. You wait for her vision to end, hoping it's a good one.

When Alice focuses again, she says "oh" and smirks at you. "You should probably go to the school to tell the principal, Edward won't be back for awhile." She winks and leaves.

(Y/n)'s POV

You stand and the copier in the school office prints out permission slips for an upcoming school trip, drinking your fourth cup of coffee this morning.

You were up all night going over everything from yesterday. Vampires. Imprinting. Imprinting on a Vampire. Oh god your head hurts.

The nice lady at the front desk starts up a conversation while you wait for the copier to be done. Town gossip, who's who. The usual. There's always someone like her, everywhere you go, every new life you live.

She's in the middle of talking about her son, a senior here, when the door to the office opens. While she deals with whoever it is that walk in a turn back to my task at hand.

"Hello, I'm here to inform you, my son, Edward Cullen. Won't be able to attend school for awhile. He has family matters out of town."

You overhear and freeze. You drop your thankfully empty mug. It doesn't break but it does make a loud enough sound that you're sure both women in the room are now looking at you. You bend down to pick it up, muttering a 'Sorry'.

As you grab it, you glance up at the two women in the room. And your eyes meet golden brown ones, the feeling from yesterday comes rushing back full force. It takes everything in you not to growl. You tear your eyes away, and turn around again. You grip the copier until your knuckles turn white. You want nothing more than too hold her and never let her go. You can't focus on the conversation still happening behind you.

A beep on the copier signals it's done, you pick up the stack of papers. Taking a deep breath and turning around, you notice the conversations coming to close so you linger, waiting. You wait until she leaving before making your way out of the office too.

She knows you were waiting. It's clear in her eyes when she glances over at you before turning towards the door. Your feet move on they're own, following her. You'd follow her anywhere.

She holds the door open for you. "Thank you." You say, entering into the empty Hall.

"Not a problem." She says, entering right behind you. and you almost trip over your own feet. She grabs your arm before you fall flat on your face. The stack of paper's slipping from your grip and scattering all over the floor.

She bends down and starts picking them up, you drop to your knees as well. "I'm sorry, I'm normally not so clumsy." You apologize, sweeping the paper into a messy pile.

"It's alright dear, we all have are moments." She says, handing me all the papers she collected. You take them, saying "Thank you." You look up catching her staring. You blush, you want nothing more than to look anywhere else, but you can't pry your eyes away.

She seems to be having the same problem. She's smiling at me, it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Finally she stands up, holding her hand out to help me up. You scoop all the papers into one arm and take her hand. She pulls you up until your standing, a little too close together to be appropriate if caught by a student or teacher. You don't move away, and neither does she.

"Esme Cullen, and you are?" She says, still holding onto your hand. Something your both aware of, and still make no move to correct it.

"Its nice to meet you, Miss Cullen. I'm (Y/f/n). You say, giving her.. Esme a sweet smile.

Her own smile widens, showing her sharp teeth. You would have thought you'd feel threatened, but you aren’t. in fact, you're calmer right now than you've been in awhile. You bite your lip.

"Please, call me Esme." Esme says, staring at your mouth. You blush again, Esme breaking eye contact helps you get control of yourself again. you take one step away from her, just far enough to keep the conversation going without anyone being curious about the close proximity.

You clear your throat, before responding. "Okay Esme, as long as you call me (Y/n)."

"Of course. (Y/n)." Esme says, smiling again. You go weak hearing her say your name. And by the look she's giving you, she knows it.

Suddenly you remember. It's first period. You need to get back to your class room. You glance at the clock on the hall. Esme follows your eye, she frowns at the time.

You look back at her to tell her you have to go, but she takes a step forward, smiling. She leans into your ear and whispers. "I'll be see you soon, goodbye (Y/n)." She press a soft kiss to your cheek then steps back, turns and walking down the hall.

You just lean against the lockers for a little bit until you can't see her anymore. You sigh, and think to yourself

'She'll be the death of me.'

[popatochisssp]

What are the boys like when they're drunk/tipsy?

Gotcha covered! ;3

Sans (Undertale): He’s a giggly drunk and after he’s had a few, literally everything is hilarious to him, even if it’s dumb or little or weird. He ramps up his joking and punning to eleven, but at the same time, he tends to ruin most of them because he can’t keep his usual poker-face for a good delivery and he starts snickering halfway to the punchline. He’s a bit of a lightweight so he doesn’t drink much and when he does, he isn’t picky– whatever’s on tap or has a good special going is fine for him because he’s probably not going to have more than one or two anyway.

Papyrus (Undertale): He actually! Doesn’t know what he’s like when he’s drunk! He’s never been drunk, but (perhaps surprisingly), it’s not for lack of trying? His tolerance is insanely high and he hasn’t managed more than a slight buzz before his magic ends up metabolizing it, so in general, he’s… not a huge fan? He’s a fantastic designated driver, though, because he thinks his friends and family are funny as hell when they’re drunk and doesn’t mind a bit of babysitting. When he does drink, his booze of choice is tequila– margaritas, sunrises, shots, he’s up for whatever! It’s not like he’s going to have a hangover the next morning.

Sky (Underswap Sans): He’s a little catty when he drinks. I hesitate to say mean because really, he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body… but when he’s drunk, he definitely watches his metaphorical tongue a lot less than he usually does, and he’s got plenty of sass to spare. If he’s got a problem with somebody that he usually keeps mum about out of politeness, now is the most likely time for him to spill it, accompanied by some truly scathing wisecrackery. His tolerance is pretty average and he likes cocktails, especially ones made with vodka, but if only the vodka is available, he’s happy to drink it straight.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): He’s a loud drunk! Not mean or angry, but he has a tendency to lose track of his speaking volume, especially if you’re drinking somewhere it’s already loud or there’s a lot of people talking. He’ll quiet down if you shush him and be a little embarrassed about it, but he’s also very likely to just gradually get louder again because he’s just not paying attention. Another one with pretty average tolerance, and he has a strong preference for flavored liqueurs. What’s the point of drinking if it tastes bad? Eugh! Chambord is probably his favorite, but he won’t turn down Midori, Bailey’s, or anything else in that vein.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): He’s a pretty mellow drunk, actually. Not too much about his behavior changes when he’s drinking– he has a high tolerance–but you might notice he physically relaxes a little bit after he’s had a few. It’s not quite as good for getting the tense set of his shoulders to go away as being safe at home, snuggling with a loved one, but it’s something so he definitely likes to indulge every once in awhile. He likes his liquor with a bit of a bite so whiskey is a favorite and he prefers to drink it straight– and if it’s an option, he’ll go with Fireball in particular every time.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Has a tendency to get very philosophical when he drinks, pondering the meaning of life and universe and any and all similar thought-provoking questions. His opinions are poignant and thoughtful, even to the point he’s had enough that he might start to slur his words a bit, and he’s a lot more open to sharing these things than he might be sober. He’s kind of a lightweight and rarely drinks, but when he does, he enjoys wine. White wines…dessert wines, actually, he hates the taste of dry wines and like all the Papyri, his sweet-tooth precludes him from wanting to bother with any alcoholic drinks that taste bad. He also adores sangria but will only drink it homemade, he’s concerned about his rep in public if somebody caught him with any kind of ‘girly’ drink. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t love it, though!

Mal (Swapfell Sans): He is forever grateful for his high alcohol tolerance because he is an ‘I LOVE YOU, MAN’ drunk, all the way. He almost never drinks past the point of a mild buzz because when he does, he knows from experience that he tends to drape himself over the nearest loved one and get very emotional on them about how important they are and how much he cares about them and he’s always embarrassed at his own gushiness when he sobers up. Rus has a love-hate relationship with Drunk!Mal– he likes the hugs and how Mal will start cussing like breathing, but the rest of the word-vomit and the excessive emotions… jeez, bro, c’mon, pull yourself together, don’t cry on me, oh god… Mal prefers red wine, as dry as he can get it, but at the same time, he’s not really a snob about it. He’ll drink cheap grocery store wine just the same as a fancy vintage without complaint!

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): He’s someone for whom the term ‘liquid courage’ rings very true, he really discovers his confident side when he’s had a couple drinks to loosen his inhibitions and push a bit of his nasty anxiety into the background for awhile. When he’s drunk, he says what he’s thinking and asks for what he wants without getting wrapped up in what-ifs and future consequences– and for a lot of people, that’s very charming! Pretty much all of his past hookups and one-night-stands have been a result of his assisted confidence allowing him to try out a goofy pickup line or tell somebody they have beautiful eyes, and it’s fleeting if challenged in any way but his earnest boldness is more than a little endearing. He’s a big fan of rum drinks, punch for sure but daiquiris are his biggest weakness, easy.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Not somebody you want to drink with, he’s a very sad, mopey drunk who tends to get way too in his own head– and after the life he’s lived through, that’s not a fun place to be. He dwells a lot on mistakes and regrets, and with his head-wound compromising what was already a terrible tolerance for alcohol, it doesn’t even take much for him to get in a really low mood. He avoids drinking if at all possible, but socially he may have one (1) wine-cooler: a Seagrams Escape or some sort of hard lemonade-like beverage, with low alcohol content and a nice taste.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): He’s a sleepy drunk. As soon as he passes the threshold of ‘buzzed,’ his eye-sockets start to droop and he’s going to slump a little bit against the nearest surface. He’s not too used to the feeling and he doesn’t really like it that much on that basis alone, but he doesn’t mind if he’s at home with loved ones and actually can just drape himself over the couch and snooze a little if he’s overindulged. He has a decently high tolerance before that point, though, so it’s not much of an issue. He likes mulled wines and ciders, partly because they’re sweet and partly because they’re warm– pleasant to drink on all fronts– and if you’re somebody who likes those, too, he may even try to learn how to make them at home for both of you to share!

And it should go without saying, but I was raised on PSAs so it feels wrong not to end this with a quick ‘don’t drink if you’re not of age wherever you are– and if you are of age, drink responsibly’! :3

[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2017, Part II

Part I can be found here. I should have mentioned the films I haven’t seen, which include BPM; Faces Places; The Square; Coco; Thelma; Last Flag Flying; Roman J. Israel, Esq.; Wonder Wheel; Jane; and I, Daniel Blake. Long-time AHOLs also know that I’m in the fifth year of a self-imposed five-year break from superhero culture, so I haven’t seen Logan or Thor or whatever else. With that: ENDEARING CURIOSITIES WITH BIG FLAWS 87. The Great Wall (Zhang Yimou)-  Zhang Yimou's The Great Wall has a lot in common with Wong Kar-Wai's The Grandmaster. Both are high-concept international co-productions that bear just enough of the filmmaker's signature but feel unfortunately cut to ribbons in the editing room. Computers have made us all a little worse at our jobs, Zhang included, and his spectacle is achieved despite CGI, not because of it. I liked watching a boulder's journey through the stages of being catapulted, even if it eventually landed into a physics-negligent pit of cartoon monsters. By the end, the picture is more bloodless, sexless, and simplistic than a game of toy soldiers, which makes it seem just as child-like. It's a forgettable sort of fun, but it is often fun. 86. The Ghost in the Shell (Rupert Sanders)- A bit more comprehensible than the original but far less beautiful. It's a shame that visions of future exteriors haven't improved or at least changed since Blade Runner. Big advertisements. Got it. (Also, we have telepathic walkie-talkies, but people sleep on the floor?) There are a few good ideas drizzled around. If people can basically toggle back and forth between languages, why not hire a famous actor who doesn't speak English for one of the supporting roles? Speaking of acting though, Johansson is pretty bad in this, hamstrung by the whole playing-a-robot problem. (She looks as good as she ever has though, which is saying something.) She could have taken some notes from Michael Pitt, who brings some edge and skitter to his cybernetic replicant or whatever they call it. 85. Wilson (Craig Johnson)- It hits the notes that a Daniel Clowes property usually does: misanthropy, formlessness, begrudging acceptance at the end. I laughed a few times and appreciated the huge left-turn at the two-thirds mark, but I didn't think it amounted to much. 84. Patti Cake$ (Geremy Jasper)-  Other than the Basterd character, there's nothing really broken about this movie, but I'm selling on anything with double-digit dream sequences. 

83. Colossal (Nacho Vigalondo)- The ending, both the final act and the final note, went a long way to save what was a tedious sit for me. I appreciate the big swings that everyone took with this budget and material--Sudeikis once again gets to show impressive range. But this is an hour of material stretched to an hour and forty-nine minutes. 82. Rough Night (Lucia Aniello)- Hide-the-body movies never work, but what makes this one disappointing is that there's a daring, original corrective somewhere on the margins. You can tell from the comparatively tame bachelor party or the unexpectedly positive threesome that this movie has refreshing ideas, but both the Machine and TV visuals from a TV director shaved the edge down. No one wants to hear such a thing about a sorely-needed female-driven comedy, but Paul W. Downs is the funniest thing in this. 81. Beauty and the Beast (Bill Condon)- Shout-out to the morons protesting this movie's gayness but not realizing that the original was always an allegory for AIDS. These live-action remakes are all around the same quality, but this one feels especially bloated, with really dicey CGI. Things get borderline boring in between the musical numbers, but, man, do those numbers hold up. There's the title track obviously, but songs that would be throwaways in something else--"Gaston," "Be Our Guest," "Something There"--are BANGERZ here. The real IP is the music, and Disney is just going to get each generation's Josh Gad to sing them forever. 80. Darkest Hour (Joe Wright)- This movie reminded me of The Imitation Game in the sense that it's a staid presentation with a solid structure that feels cheap whenever it zooms out beyond its back rooms. The grander version of this, which Joe Wright in some ways already made, is probably just as unsatisfying, but it wouldn't have the pinnacle of goofiness that will hereupon be known as The Underground Scene. I’m a bit bored of this type of film. Darkest Hour might be worth seeing for Oldman's performance, which is a true transformation, absent of any actory vanity but invested with some real myth-making. Churchill gets introduced with just his hat, then lit by just a match, then lit by a shock of sunlight. Oldman is very good in his scenes with Scott Thomas, so it's a shame that her character disappears for a half-hour at a time. The more troubling thing to note is that there are many men in this film who are so English that they can't pronounce their r's. If you catch it eawly, it's a weal distwacting pwoblem. 79. The Fate of the Furious (F. Gary Gray)- Since some of the dumbest stuff is some of the best stuff*, I'm not going to get caught in the web of assessing how much sense The Fate of the Furious makes. But I can say that this entry is the least intentionally funny of the series, and other than "the White girls' soccer team is the Monarchs," it loses some of the class undressing of 6 and 7. From the endless scene-setting to the overstuffed character roster, this is now more of a comic book than a movie, an exercise in being a plot without being a narrative. *- See: the "make it rain" sequence, Statham swinging the baby carrier through a gun battle, Rock redirecting the missile with his bare hands.

78. Nobody Speak: Trials of the Free Press (Brian Knappenberger)- The first hour, centering on the Hulk Hogan/Gawker case, is compulsively watchable, even if it doesn't shed much extra light for anyone who followed it when it happened. Terry Bollea explaining that his penis is shorter than ten inches while Hulk Hogan's, the character's, is not: That's what I signed up for. When that case veers into the bizarrely vengeful, pretty much when Peter Thiel comes in, Nobody Speak becomes something else. The final third pits the sensitive, diligent bullpen of the Las Vegas Review-Journal against billionaire liver spot Sheldon Adelson, who bought their paper to suppress it. Then, of course, the doc expands to Donald Trump's vilification of the free press. If that sounds like a straight line, it doesn't come off that way in the film. The Hogan/Gawker stuff, which takes up the majority of the running time, feels unresolved after all the tangents. 77. The Reagan Show (Sierra Pettengill, Pacho Velez)- I'm cringing for the next five years, in which I'll have to judge a movie's success based on how subtly it invokes its mandatory Donald Trump comparisons and allegories. They're coming. In general, it's kind of sad to see how much more literate people were even thirty years ago, even as they populated a medium we all agreed was low culture. This documentary feels sharp at first, understanding something essential about the way Reagan owned his own persona. With the American Right treating him like some patron saint, it's also helpful to remember how much pushback he got at the end of his second term, for something that would be, like, the fiftieth most controversial thing Donald Trump would have done already. (See?) When the doc gets to its own fascination with Reagan's Star Wars program, however, it basically loses its thesis. As lean as it is, it still sort of stumbles to the finish line. 76. Beatriz at Dinner (Miguel Arteta)- I appreciated this portrayal of a culture clash way more than I liked it. For a while the characters are highly specific. (The delivery of "It's 6:13, Kathy" made me laugh out loud.) Then the plot turns into "Oh, so we're talking about Trump's America, right?" (See?) Here's a critique that's catty every time: This film has great ideas about class and race if you've never thought about class and race before. 75. I, Tonya (Craig Gillespie)- Oscar is calling...for the fat dude playing Shawn Eckhardt and no one else. If Allison Janney wins for doing the thing she always does over Laurie Metcalf's fully realized human, then it's a huge mistake. Successful in some of its comedic goals, especially in its depiction of northwestern goons, the shame of the working class, and period detail. (I laughed out loud when I saw the Girbaud tag on Gilooly's jeans.) Unsuccessful in most of its other goals--if I'm even reading the film correctly in my assumption of those goals. The most obvious one is the slippery nature of the truth, and that idea is handled clumsily. Gillespie goes to great GoodFellas-aping lengths to grapple with perception--having characters break the fourth wall even though there are already voiceovers and to-camera interviews. That talking to the camera comes up a few times in the disturbing scenes of domestic violence, which do humanize the characters because the other elements of the film can't, but they distract the viewer with their blitheness. The most puzzling angle of the film is the Hard Copy reporter, played by Bobby Cannavale in yet another example of his agent not knowing how famous he is. It's a missed opportunity in a movie full of them. 74. It (Andy Muschietti)- I don't get why people went nuts for this. The ensemble avails itself pretty well, despite all the sitcom-y dialogue. (Dialogue that, based on the Stephen King that I've read, is probably faithful to the book.) Some of the visuals nail the distinction between surreal and unreal--my favorite is the children's TV show that sporadically drifts into the murderous. But the movie just kind of hangs there, all the way to its interminable ending, satisfied with its own literal presentation of events that seem to be metaphorical. As I understand, It--however It manifests itself--represents the death of childhood and the emergence of an adult banality of evil. But the movie engages with that level as little as possible, and maybe that's why people are going nuts for it. This is a scary movie if you're a child, and most of the moviegoing public seem to be children. 73. Before I Fall (Ry Russo-Young)- I mostly watched this because I think Zoey Deutch is a Movie Star, and if I'm going to be there for her Speed, I have to be there for her Love Potion No. 9's as well. I appreciated Before I Fall's brevity, but the premise offers a lot more fun than the film is willing to have. In the end the balance was off: It had to be either more moralistically PG-13 or go way darker. For example, just like in Groundhog Day, the character realizes that she'll live out the same day no matter what she does, and it triggers a nihilistic phase. But rather than going on a shooting spree or stealing stuff from a mall, she just, like, wears a sexier dress and talks back to her parents. Good swing, kids, but I'm waiting for the crazier version.

72. War Machine (David Michod)- There are some standout moments in War Machine, many of which are thanks to its impressive cast, but I don't think the film is cohesive enough for me to recommend. I know what Michod is against--counter-insurgency, military hubris--but it's harder to figure out what he's arguing for beyond some sort of level of transparency. The war sequence near the end feels at odds with the tone of everything else, even though it benefits from the Nick Cave and Warren Ellis score. In a similarly frustrated vein, I feel as if I know exactly who Glen McMahon is, and the script's greatest strength is how sharply it draws him, but Pitt's studied performance adds distance to it. It's as if all of the film's comedic nature is supposed to come from how people revolve around his straight man, and that expectation is too much to put on his shoulders. There's more than a little Bud Turgidson in the voice Pitt affects, but the difference is that, as mean as this sounds, I always believed George C. Scott when he played a smart person. 71. The Trip to Spain (Michael Winterbottom)- Diminishing returns. 70. Downsizing (Alexander Payne)- There's a meta-effect to the structure of Downsizing. Its characters decide to shrink themselves, finding unpredictable challenges in the process, and the film similarly gets more problematic as it focuses further into each of its four legs. The first part, the outside world, is when the film is at its most cutting and well-observed. It still lays its points on thickly--dude at the bar asking if downsized people should be able to vote, for example--but the questions are worth asking. The second part, Leisureland, the bourgeois subdivision lil' Damon lives in, is more satirical and less satisfying. (I do love that downsizing ends up being such a gauche pursuit though. Payne has always had his finger on the pulse of people with poor taste.) The third part, which takes place in the downsizing slums, is a sharp, unfunny left turn that discards characters but at least develops the protagonist further. And then the wheels come off in Norway. At least we got to hear Udo Kier say, "I do love my boat." 69. Okja (Bong Joon-Ho)- Since Okja is such a unique movie, I feel as if people will overpraise it as a way to brand themselves: Its poster is probably going to be in a lot of dorm rooms. But there's a lot that you have to look past in order to recommend it. In general, I find that Bong's English language work has a bizarre mixture of muddled themes being presented in direct ways. There is some sweetness here--most of it due to the amazingly detailed rendering of the pig--but too much of the comedy doesn't work, and the ending feels a bit easy. I liked most of the stuff with the Animal Liberation Front, and I kind of wish they had been the focal point of the movie. Can I say, as my main takeaway, that I'm worried about Jakey G? He is so big here, so out-of-tune with the rest of the film, that I blame Bong for not reining him in. At the same time, I keep making excuses for Gyllenhaal, claiming that his parts are under-written, but at a certain point, you have to point the finger at him if there's such a pattern of bad performances emerging. I didn't see Everest, but this is his fourth brick in a row. Help us, Dan Gilroy. You're our only hope. 68. The Killing of a Sacred Deer (Yorgos Lanthimos)- An interesting swing that ends up missing for me. Excepting The Lobster, Lanthimos's works seem obsessed with family dynamics, and he plays some interesting games with this family's perversions. Farrell's character's story about his father dovetails with his somnophilia, which seems to inspire the way his daughter offers herself to her object of affection. From Anna's medical past to Steven's alcoholism, these characters seem to have full lives that have been in motion long before the events of the story. But I kind of suspect I'm worshiping at the altar of auteurism, and I wouldn't have half the respect or patience I do for this film had I not known who made it. The dialogue and performances are purposefully flat and stilted, thus creating an off, eerie quality before we know why we should be unnerved. But what if the performances are just, you know, bad? The film also creates a premise that concludes in an inevitably unsatisfying way. I don't know what I would have done instead, but I'm not a genius filmmaker who gets the benefit of the doubt.

[gaysparklepires]

26. Clouds

Read on AO3

The counter in Alice’s bathroom was covered with dozens of various hair products and colognes. Since no one in this house appeared to use either, I could only assume she’d bought most of these things with me in mind. I read the labels numbly, struck by the waste.

I was careful never to look in the long mirror.

Alice combed through my hair with a slow, rhythmic motion.

“That’s enough, Alice,” I said tonelessly. “I want to go back to La Push.”

How many hours had I waited for Charlie to leave Billy’s house so that I could see Jacob? Each minute, not knowing if Jacob was still breathing or not, had seemed like ten lifetimes. And then, when at last I’d been allowed to go, to see for myself that Jacob was alive, the time had gone quickly. I felt like I’d barely caught my breath before Alice was calling Edward, insisting that I keep up this ridiculous sleepover façade. It seemed so insignificant…

“Jacob’s still unconscious,” Alice answered. “Carlisle or Edward will call when he’s awake. Anyway, you need to go see Charlie. He was there at Billy’s house, he saw that Carlisle and Edward are back in from their trip, and he’s bound to be suspicious when you get home.”

I already had my story memorized and corroborated. “I don’t care. I want to be there when Jacob wakes up.”

“You need to think of Charlie now. You’ve had a long day—sorry, I know that doesn’t begin to cover it—but that doesn’t mean you can shirk your responsibilities.” Her voice was serious, almost chiding. “It’s more important now than ever that Charlie stayed safely in the dark. Play your role first, Beau, and then you can do what you want second. Part of being a Cullen is being meticulously responsible.”

Of course she was right. And if not for this same reason—a reason that was more powerful than all my fear and pain and guilt—Carlisle would never have been able to talk me into leaving Jacob’s side, unconscious or not.

“Go home,” Alice ordered. “Talk to Charlie. Flesh out your alibi. Keep him safe.”

I stood, and the blood flowed down to my feet, stinging like the pricks of a thousand needles. I’d been sitting still for a long time.

“That outfit looks adorable on you,” Alice cooed.

“Huh? Oh. Er—thanks again for the clothes,” I mumbled, distracted.

“You need the evidence,” Alice said, her eyes innocent and wide. “What’s a shopping trip without a new outfit? It’s very flattering, if I do say so myself.”

I blinked, unable to remember what she’d dressed me in. I couldn’t keep my thoughts from skittering away every few seconds, insects running from the light…

Jacob is fine, Beau,” Alice said, easily interpreting my preoccupation. “There’s no hurry. If you realized how much extra morphine Carlisle had to give him—what with his temperature burning it off so quickly—you would know that he’s going to be out for a while.”

At least he wasn’t in any pain. Not yet.

“Is there anything you want to talk about before you leave?” Alice asked sympathetically. “You must be more than a little traumatized.”

I thought I knew what she was really curious about. But I had other questions.

“Would I be like that?” I asked her, my voice subdued. “Like that girl Bree in the meadow?”

There were many things I needed to think of, but I couldn’t seem to get her out of my head, the newborn whose life was now—abruptly—over. Her face, twisted with desire for my blood, lingered behind my eyelids.

Alice stroked my arm. “Everyone is different. But something like that, yes.”

I was very still, trying to imagine.

“It passes,” she promised.

“How soon?”

She shrugged. “A few years, maybe less. It might be different for you. I’ve never seen anyone go through this who’s chosen it beforehand. It would be interesting to see how that affects you.”

“Interesting,” I repeated.

“We’d keep you out of trouble.”

“I know that. I trust you.” My voice was monotone, dead.

Alice’s forehead puckered. “If you’re worried about Carlisle and Edward, I’m sure they’ll be fine. I believe Sam is beginning to trust us… well, to trust Carlisle, at least. It’s a good thing, too. I imagine the atmosphere got a little tense when Carlisle had to re-break the fractures—“

“Please, Alice.”

“Sorry.”

I took a deep breath to steady myself. Jacob had begun healing too quickly, and some of his bones had set wrong. He’d been out cold for the process, but it was still hard to think about.

“Alice, can I ask you a question? About the future?”

She was suddenly wary. “You know I don’t see everything.”

“It’s not that, exactly. But you do see my future, sometimes. Why is that, do you think, when nothing else works on me? Not what Jane can do, or Edward, or Aro…” My sentence trailed off as my mind continued wondering.

Alice watched me for a moment, then answered. “Jasper, too, Beau—his talent works on your body just as well as it does on anyone else’s. That’s the difference, do you see it? Jasper’s abilities affect the body physically. He really does calm your system down, or excite it. It’s not an illusion. And I see visions of outcomes, not the reasons and thoughts behind the decisions that create them. It’s outside the mind, not an illusion, either; reality, or at least one version of it. But Jane and Edward and Aro and Demetri — they work inside the mind. Jane only creates an illusion of pain. She doesn’t really hurt your body, you only think you feel it. You see, Beau? You are safe inside your mind. No one can reach you there. It’s no wonder that Aro was so curious about your future abilities.”

She watched my face to see if I was following her logic. In truth, her words had all started to run together, the syllables and sounds losing their meaning. I couldn’t concentrate on them. Still, I nodded. Trying to look like I got it.

She wasn’t fooled. She stroked my cheek and murmured, “He’s going to be okay, Beau. I don’t need a vision to know that. Are you ready to go?”

“One more thing. Can I ask you another question about the future? I don’t want specifics, just an overview.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said, doubtful again.

“Can you still see my future?”

She didn’t answer right away. This was the question she’d been wary of, I could tell. The looks she had given me back in the clearing after the battle made sense to me now

“I see lots of futures for you, Beau.”

I nodded slowly.

She examined my face, her eyes unfathomable. “Don’t you know your own mind, Beau?”

“I don’t anymore.”

“I’m only as sure as you are, Beau. You know that. If you were to change your mind, what I see would change… or disappear, in your case.”

I felt my stomach drop as Alice hit the nail on the head. I felt my face get hot, and tears start forming in the corners of my eyes.

Alice rushed forward and put her arms around me. “I’m sorry, Beau. I can’t really empathize. My first memory is of seeing Jasper’s face in my future; I always knew that he would be where my life was headed. But I can sympathize. I’m sorry you have to choose between two good things.”

I sniffed back the tears, “Don’t feel sorry for me.” I didn’t want sympathy. I didn’t know what I wanted. Which was the real crux of the problem. I had to make a choice, and I had to break a good heart in the process.

“Beau,” Alice began gently, “I want you to know that no matter what, or who, you choose, I’ll always love you. I know your decision isn’t easy. I know how unhappy this is making you… I wish I could help you.” She hugged me tightly.

“Thank you, Alice.” I hugged her back. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. But right now, I have to go deal with Charlie.”

 I drove my truck back home, where Charlie was waiting just as suspiciously as Alice had expected.

“Hey, Beau. How was your shopping trip?” he greeted me when I walked into the kitchen. He had his arms folded over his chest, his eyes on my face.

“Long,” I said dully. “We just got back.”

Charlie assessed my mood. “I guess you already heard about Jake, then?”

“Yes. The rest of the Cullens beat us home. Esme told us where Carlisle and Edward were.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m really worried about Jake. As soon as I make dinner, I’m going down to La Push.”

“I told you those motorcycles were dangerous. I hope this makes you realize that I wasn’t kidding around.”

I nodded as I started pulling things out of the fridge. Charlie settled himself in at the table. He seemed to be in a more talkative mood than usual.

“I don’t think you need to worry about Jake too much. Anyone who can cuss with that kind of energy is going to recover.”

“Jake was awake when you saw him?” I asked, spinning to look at him.

“Oh, yeah, he was awake. You should have heard him—actually, it’s better you didn’t. I don’t think there was anyone in La Push who couldn’t hear him. I don’t know where he picked up that vocabulary, but I hope he hasn’t been using that kind of language around you.”

“He had a pretty good excuse today. How did he look?”

“Messed up. His friends carried him in. Good thing they’re big boys, ‘cause that kid’s an armful. Carlisle said his right leg is broken, and his right arm. Pretty much the whole right side of his body got crushed when he wrecked that damn bike.” Charlie shook his head. “If I ever hear of you riding again, Beau—“

“No problem there, Dad. You won’t. Do you really think Jake’s okay?”

“Sure, Beau, don’t worry. He was himself enough to tease me.”

“Tease you?” I echoed in surprise.

“Yeah—in between the swearing, he said, ‘Bet you’re glad he loves Cullen instead of me today, huh, Charlie?’”

I turned back to the fridge so that he couldn’t see my face.

“And I couldn’t argue. Edward’s more mature than Jacob when it comes to your safety, I’ll give him that much.”

“Jacob’s plenty mature,” I muttered defensively. “I’m sure this wasn’t his fault.”

“Weird day today,” Charlie mused after a minute. “You know, I don’t put much stock in that superstitious crap, but it was odd… It was like Billy knew something bad was going to happen to Jake. He was nervous as a turkey on Thanksgiving all morning. I don’t think he heard anything I said to him.

“And then, weirder than that—remember back in February and March when we had all that trouble with the wolves?”

I bent down to get a frying pan out of the cupboard, and hid there an extra second or two.

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

“I hope we’re not going to have a problem with that again. This morning, we were out in the boat, and Billy wasn’t paying any attention to me or the fish, when all of a sudden, you could hear wolves yowling in the woods. More than one, and, boy, was it loud. Sounded like they were right there in the village. Weirdest part was, Billy turned the boat around and headed straight back to the harbor like they were calling to him personally. Didn’t even hear me ask what he was doing.

“The noise stopped before we got the boat docked. But all of a sudden Billy was in the biggest hurry not to miss the game, though we had hours still. He was mumbling some nonsense about an earlier showing… of a live game? I tell you, Beau, it was odd.

“Well, he found some game he said he wanted to watch, but then he just ignored it. He was on the phone the whole time, calling Sue, and Emily, and your friend Quil’s grandpa. Couldn’t quite make out what he was looking for—he just chatted real casual with them.

“Then the howling started again right outside the house. I’ve never heard anything like it—I had goose bumps on my arms. I asked Billy—had to shout over the noise—if he’d been setting traps in his yard. It sounded like the animal was in serious pain.”

I winced, but Charlie was so caught up in his story that he didn’t notice.

“’Course I forgot all about that till just this minute, ‘cause that’s when Jake made it home. One minute it was that wolf yowling, and then you couldn’t hear it anymore — Jake’s cussing drowned it right out. Got a set of lungs on him, that boy does.”

Charlie paused for a minute, his face thoughtful. “Funny that some good should come out of this mess. I didn’t think they were ever going to get over that fool prejudice they have against the Cullens down there. But somebody called Carlisle, and Billy was real grateful when he showed up. I thought we should get Jake up to the hospital, but Billy wanted to keep him home, and Carlisle agreed. I guess Carlisle knows what’s best. Generous of him to sign up for such a long stretch of house calls.”

“And…” he paused, as if unwilling to say something. He sighed, and then continued. “And Edward was really… nice. He seemed as worried about Jacob as you are—like that was his brother lying there. The look in his eyes…” Charlie shook his head. “He’s a decent guy, Beau. I’ll try to remember that. No promises, though.” He grinned at me.

“I won’t hold you to it,” I mumbled.

Charlie stretched his legs and groaned. “It’s nice to be home. You wouldn’t believe how crowded Billy’s little place gets. Seven of Jake’s friends all squished themselves into that little front room—I could hardly breathe. Have you ever noticed how big those Quileute kids all are?”

“Yeah, I have.”

Charlie stared at me, his eyes abruptly more focused. “Really, Beau, Carlisle said Jake will be up and around in no time. Said it looked a lot worse than it was. He’s going to be fine.”

I just nodded.

Jacob had looked so… strangely fragile when I’d hurried down to see him as soon as Charlie had left. He’d had braces everywhere—Carlisle said there was no point in plaster, as fast as he was healing. His face had been pale and drawn, deeply unconscious though he was at the time. Breakable. Huge as he was, he’d looked very breakable. Maybe that had just been my imagination, coupled with the knowledge that I could possibly break him further.

If only I could be struck by lightning and be split in two. If there were two of me, maybe I could make everyone happy. No one would be heartbroken. No one would lose anything.

I put Charlie’s dinner on the table next to his elbow and headed for the door.

“Er, Beau? Could you wait just a second?”

“Did I forget something?” I asked, eyeing his plate.

“No, no. I just… want to ask a favor.” Charlie frowned and looked at the floor. “Have a seat—this won’t take long.”

I sat across from him, a little confused. I tried to focus. “What do you need, Dad?”

“Here’s the gist of it, Beau.” Charlie flushed. “Maybe I’m just feeling… superstitious after hanging out with Billy while he was being so strange all day. But I have this… hunch. I feel like… I’m going to lose you soon.”

“Don’t be silly, Dad,” I mumbled guiltily. “You want me to go to school, don’t you?”

“Just promise me one thing.”

I was hesitant. “Okay…”

“Will you tell me before you do anything major? Before you run off with him or something?”

“Dad...”

“I’m serious. I won’t kick up a fuss. Just give me some advance notice. Give me a chance to hug you goodbye.”

I felt the knots in my stomach as I looked at my father. “I promise, Dad.”

“Thanks, Beau,” he said. “I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you, too, Dad.” I turned to leave but I stopped. I ran back to Charlie had hugged him. He seemed surprised for a moment, but then hugged me back tightly.

 The whole way down to La Push my stomach was in knots. My mind grappling with itself and with my heart. I tried to lay out both decisions, both courses in front of me. Tried to quantify and list everything that either choice would mean; the short term, the long term. Somehow the minute my brain began to lean towards one over the other, my heart would pull me back the other way and I’d have to start all over again.

Carlisle’s black Mercedes was not in front of Billy’s house. This was good. I needed to talk to Jacob alone. Having Edward there—any of the Cullens—would only make my decision so much harder.

I tapped quietly on the door.

“Come in, Beau,” Billy said. The roar of my truck was easy to recognize.

I let myself in.

“Hey, Billy. Is he awake?” I asked.

“He woke up about a half hour ago, just before the doctor left. Go on in. I think he’s been waiting for you.”

I flinched, and then took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

I hesitated at the door to Jacob’s room, not sure whether to knock. I decided to peek first, hoping—coward that I was—that maybe he’d gone back to sleep. I felt like I could use just a few more minutes.

I opened the door a crack and leaned hesitantly in.

Jacob was waiting for me, his face calm and smooth. The haggard, gaunt look was gone, but only a careful blankness took its place. There was no animation in his dark eyes.

It was hard to look at his face, knowing that I loved him. It made more of a difference than I would have thought. I wondered if it had always been this hard for him, all this time.

Thankfully, someone had covered him with a quilt. It was relief not to have to see the extent of the damage.

I stepped in and shut the door quietly behind me.

“Hi, Jake,” I murmured.

He didn’t answer at first. He looked at my face for a long moment. Then, with some effort, he rearranged his expression into a slightly sarcastic smile.

“I was afraid it might be like that.” He sighed. “Today has definitely taken a turn for the worse. First I pick the wrong place, miss the best fight, and Seth gets all the glory. Then Liam has to be an idiot trying to prove he’s tough as the rest of us and I have to be the idiot who saves him. And now this.” He waved his left hand toward me where I hesitated by the door.

“How are you feeling?” I mumbled. What a stupid question.

“A little stoned. Dr. Fang isn’t sure how much pain medication I need, so he’s going with trial and error. Think he overdid it.”

“But you’re not in pain.”

“No. At least, I can’t feel my injuries,” he said with a sigh.

I bit my lip. I was never going to get through this.

The wry humor left his face, and his eyes warmed up. His forehead creased, like he was worried.

“How about you?” he asked, sounding really concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” I stared at him. “You must be high. Why are you asking if I’m okay?”

“Well, I mean, I was sure he wouldn’t actually hurt you or anything, but I wasn’t sure how bad it was going to be. I’ve been going a little crazy worrying about you ever since I woke up. I didn’t know if you were going to be allowed to visit or anything. The suspense was terrible. How did it go? Was he mean to you? I’m sorry if it was bad. I didn’t mean for you to have to go through anything alone. I was thinking I’d be there…”

It took me a minute to even understand. He babbled on, looking more and more awkward, until I got what he was saying. Then I hurried to reassure him.

“No, no, Jake! I’m fine. Too fine, really. He wasn’t mean at all.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What?”

“He wasn’t even mad at me—he wasn’t even mad at you. Actually, he was impressed with you for bowing out like you did.”

Jacob stared at me for a minute, and then he frowned. “Well, damn.” He huffed.

“What’s wrong, Jake? Does it hurt?” My hands fluttered uselessly as I looked around for his medication.

“No,” he sighed. “He really is a little too decent. I was hoping he had been at least a little awful, just to make me feel better. He wasn’t angry at all?”

“Not even a little.”

“Well, I mean, I’m glad he wasn’t angry with you. I wouldn’t want you to suffer… I guess, I don’t know, I was hoping maybe he’d at least be angry with me. Give me some satisfaction after giving up.” Jacob chuckled, then winced.

I flinched at his pain. It was silent for a long moment.

“You’re not really giving up, though, are you?” I finally said.

He smiled. “Not really, I guess. I just won’t keep trying to make you choose me. I don’t want to hurt you anymore by doing that. It’s not fair. Besides, at least you see that you do love me. That’s worth something.”

“Is it? Is it really better than if I was still in denial?”

“Don’t you think you ought to know how you feel?”

I shook my head. “No—I didn’t mean better for me. I meant better for you. Does it make things better or worse for you, having me know that I’m in love with you? When I… when…” I stopped, feeling my emotions welling up. “Would it have been better, easier for you, if I never clued in?”

He took my question as seriously as I’d meant it, thinking carefully before he answered. “Yes, it’s better to have you know,” he finally decided. “If you hadn’t figured it out… I’d have always wondered if your decision would have been different if you had. Now I know. I did everything I could.” He dragged in an unsteady breath, and closed his eyes.

This time I did not—could not—resist the urge to comfort him. I crossed the small room and kneeled by his head, afraid to sit on the bed in case I jostled it and hurt him, and leaned in to touch my forehead to his cheek.

Jacob sighed, and he put his hand on my hair, holding me there.

“I’m so sorry, Jake.”

“I always knew this was a long shot. It’s not your fault, Beau.”

“Not you, too,” I moaned. “Please.”

He pulled away to look at me. “What?”

“It is my fault. And I’m so sick of being told it’s not.”

He grinned, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “You need to get over that. You can’t help that we both fell in love with you. You’re pretty great, you know.”

“Am I? Why do I feel like I’m the worst person in the world right now?”

“You’re the best.” He smiled. “If I hadn’t fallen in love with you then something would have been wrong with me. But he came first, I guess. That’s just how it goes.”

“Jake…”

“It our own faults, really. We made this way harder on you than we needed to. Mostly me, probably… Yeah, especially me.” He chuckled softly. “I was too stubborn.”

I started sniffling softly, my emotions bubbling over.

“Hey, you’re not crying are you?” He shifted slightly on the bed.

“Yeah,” I muttered, laughing weakly at myself through the tears that suddenly burst into sobs.

He shifted his weight, throwing his good leg off the bed as if he were going to try to stand.

“What are you doing?” I demanded through the tears. “Lie down, you idiot, you’ll hurt yourself!” I jumped to my feet and pushed his good shoulder down with two hands.

He surrendered, leaning back with a gasp of pain, but he grabbed me around my waist and pulled me down on the bed, against his good side. I curled up there, trying to stifle the sobs against his hot skin.

“Don’t cry, Beau.” His voice was low and soothing. “Not for me.”

“I think it’s more my fault than either of you want to admit.” I took a deep, ragged breath, trying to control myself.

“No, Beau, you never did anything to hurt us. Never intentionally.” His hand rubbed against my shoulders.

“How did we end up here?” I asked, more to myself than him.

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “But don’t worry, babe. It’s all going to work out.”

“I don’t see how,” I muttered.

He patted the top of my head. “I’m going to give in and be good. Really.”

“What do you mean by ‘be good’?”

“I mean I’ll stop making this hard for you, and I’ll still be your friend, Beau,” he said quietly. “I won’t ask for more than that.”

“I think it’s too late for that, Jake. How can we be friends, when we love each other like this?”

He looked at the ceiling, his stare intent, as if he were reading something that was written there. “Maybe… it will have to be a long-distance friendship.”

I clenched my teeth together, glad he wasn’t looking at my face, fighting against the sobs that threatened to overtake me again. I needed to be strong, and I had no idea how…

He looked back at my face. “I’m not going to split you in half anymore, Beau. I’m not going to keep pulling on your heart, because I think I’m just breaking it.”

I closed my eyes, willing myself to control the pain.

We were quiet for a moment. Neither of us seemed to know what to say.

“Could I tell you what the worst part is?” He asked hesitantly.

“Will it help?” I whispered.

“It might. It couldn’t hurt.”

“What’s the worst part, then?”

“The worst part is knowing what could have been.”

My breath caught and I felt more tears pushing their way to the surface.

“I’m exactly right for you, Beau.” He continued. “It would have been effortless for us—comfortable, as easy as breathing. I was the natural path your life would have taken…” He stared into space for a moment, and I waited. “If the world was the way it was supposed to be, if there were no monsters and no magic…”

I could see what he saw, and I knew that he was right. If the world was the sane place it was supposed to be, Jacob and I would have been together. And we would have been happy. He was my soul mate in that world—would have been my soul mate still if we didn’t live in the world we were in, if things hadn’t happened the way they did.

Two futures, two soul mates… too much for any one person. And so unfair that it wasn’t a choice between someone and someone better. A choice between the two most wonderful, perfect loves I could ever ask for.

“Beau, can I ask you something?” He asked quietly.

“Sure.”

“Could it have been me?”

I looked back on all my time with him, stretching all the way back to when I first came to Forks. To the first time I saw Jacob Black.

“Yeah, Jake,” I felt the tears welling up again. “If I hadn’t ever met him. If he had never been here. It would have been you.” I started crying. “Maybe in another world, a boy moved to Forks and met this wonderful, sunny boy on the beach in La Push… and they started a friendship, and they fell in love… and they’re happy together.” I took a deep breath. “And that’s the worst part for me.”

The tears were pouring out of my eyes now, and I could hear him sniffling as well.

“I’ll never be able to repay you for everything you did for me, Jake.” I cried. “I used to think of you as my personal sun. You balanced out all the clouds for me.”

He sighed. “The clouds I can handle. But I can’t fight an eclipse.”

I touched his face, laying my hand against his cheek. He exhaled at my touch and closed his eyes. It was very quiet. For a minute, I could hear the beating of his heart, slow and even.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. He kissed the top of my head, and then he sighed. “I’ll be good now.”

I looked up, and he was smiling.

“So you’re going to get married, huh?”

“We don’t have to talk about that.”

“I’d like to know some of the details. I don’t know when I’ll talk to you again.”

I had to wait for a minute before I could speak. When I was pretty sure my voice wouldn’t break, I answered his question.

“It wasn’t really my idea, but I suppose I’m warming up to it… a little.”

Jake nodded. “It’s not such a big thing—in comparison.”

His voice was very calm, very practical. I stared at him, curious about how he was managing, and that ruined it. He met my eyes for a second, and then twisted his head away. I waited to speak until his breathing was under control.

“Yes. In comparison,” I agreed.

“How long do you have left?”

“Oh, I don’t know, depends on how long it takes Alice to pull a wedding together, I suppose.” I said softly.

“No, I mean—“ he stopped short.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“I don’t know, Jake. I haven’t decided. It could be a while.” I whispered.

He nodded. This was a relief to him. I wondered how many sleepless nights the thought of my graduation had given him.

“Are you scared?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I whispered back.

“But you’re not totally sure you want… that?” He asked softly.

“No, I’m not.”

We lay in silence for a long time. Finally, I stretched my neck up to whisper in his ear, laying my cheek against his warm skin. “You know I love you.”

“I know,” he breathed, his arm tightening automatically around my waist. “You know how much I wish it was enough.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll always be waiting in the wings, Beau,” he promised, lightening his tone and loosening his arm. I pulled away with a dull, dragging sense of loss, feeling the tearing separation as I left a part of me behind, there on the bed next to him. “You’ll always have that spare option if you want it.”

I made an effort to smile. “Until my heart stops beating.”

He grinned back. “Maybe even after.”

“Should I come back to see you? Or would you rather I didn’t?”

“I’ll think about it and get back to you,” he said. “I might need the company to keep from going crazy. The doctor says I can’t phase until he gives the okay—it might mess up the way the bones are set.” Jacob made a face.

“Be good and do what Carlisle tells you to do. You’ll get well faster.”

“Sure, sure.”

“I wonder when it will happen,” I said. “When the right guy is going to catch your eye.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Beau.” Jacob sighed. “Though I’m sure it would be a relief for you.”

“Maybe, maybe not. As long as you were happy, I’d be happy.” I tried to smile. “I probably won’t think anyone is ever good enough for you. I wonder how jealous I’ll be.”

“That part might be kind of fun,” he admitted.

“Let me know if you want me to come back, and I’ll be here,” I promised.

With a sigh, he turned his cheek toward me.

I leaned in, then hesitated. I took a deep breath and put my hand on his face, turning him to look at me. I leaned in and kissed him, one last time, on the lips.

“Love you, Jacob.”

“Love you more.”

He watched me walk out of his room with an unfathomable expression in his black eyes.

[justalittlebluetiefling]

Chapter 37: Sometimes I Can’t See Myself

Rating: T Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke Chapter: 37/? Word Count: 1608 Words

Chapter Summary: The one where Bellamy can’t stop laughing about the word ‘penis’.

Also on AO3

“What is wrong with you?!” Bellamy didn’t know how to answer Clarke. He just laughed harder. Every time she said ‘penis’ or something relating to male genitalia, he couldn’t help himself. It was almost like his subconscious was trying to protect him from thinking about what she was saying by reverting to middle school. “How can you make it through the lecture, but you can’t make it through twenty minutes of our project?”  

Clarke looked so angry, and sure, warning lights were flashing, but he couldn’t stop. To be fair, it hadn’t even started with her saying penis. As soon as he had to read a passage out loud for her and stumbled over the word ‘erection,’ he had stopped functioning. “Just say the fucking word.” Bellamy covered his mouth and shook his head. “Say erection.” He tried not to, but he snorted into his hand. “Say penis!”

His burst of laughter was cut off by the door slamming. They both turned to find Harper standing there with her arms crossed and her laptop bag at her feet. “What the hell did I just walk in on?”

“How long have you been standing in there?” Bellamy asked, the same time Clarke said, “Nothing!”

Harper moved her hands to her hips and opened her mouth, but was cut off by Clarke dropping a book into her bag heavily. Bellamy held up a finger to Harper and then grabbed onto the strap of Clarke’s backpack. “Come on, Princess. Don’t be like that.”

“I can’t focus here.” She threw another book in her bag. “And neither can you.”

“Clarke—“

She yanked the strap of her bag out of his hand and slung it over her shoulder. “I’ll be in the library for,” she paused to check her watch, “the next three hours. If you grow up between now and then, you’re welcome to join me.”

Bellamy could feel Harper’s eyes boring into him, even as Clarke brushed past her and the door slammed. Again. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Don’t even start.”

When he looked up, he expected to see her glaring. He was surprised when it looked like she was actually holding back laughter. “I never thought I’d see Bellamy Blake get so flustered over his genitalia!” She was positively gleeful.

“I can handle my own genitalia just fine.”

“Just not Clarke talking about your genitalia.”

“She was not talking about my gen—good lord, can we stop saying the word genitalia, please?!”

“Genitalia.” He glared at her and she didn’t even flinch. “How about you try to say penis for me then?” Bellamy cut off his own laugh. He didn’t want to laugh at that, even though he had been laughing at it all day. “Why were you even talking about that stuff in the first place?”

“It’s part of our project. Well, first Clarke wanted us to make an illustrated sex-ed book, but… well, that went worse than this did. After that backfired, Clarke had this idea to create,” he took a deep breath, “Sexual Jeopardy. When we talked about maintaining the answer format….” Bellamy shrugged sheepishly.

“What is a penis?”

“Well, it’s not as funny when you say it,” he mumbled. “And to be fair, I got in trouble before she caught me laughing.” He hesitated, but Harper was watching him expectantly. “When she said ‘what is an orgasm?’”

“Oh god.” Harper covered her mouth. “You didn’t offer to show her.”

“No.”

Her hands moved back to her hips and she glared. “What, then?”

Bellamy could feel his face heat up as he mumbled again. “I may have implied that I’d heard…. I said I always heard Collins was so bad he couldn’t get himself off, so I wasn’t surprised she’d never heard of one.”

Harper scoffed and stalked across the room to smack him on the back of the head. “Go apologize.”

“I’m going!”

Harper McIntyre Feb 13 at 3:33pm I have seen the future. Clarke is going to have to do the entire project herself. Bellamy is officially twelve and can’t even say penis without giggling.

Bellamy Blake: Yeah, because it’s funny. Wells Jaha: Dude, it’s a funny word. Bellamy Blake: Thanks, bro. Clarke Griffin: DO NOT ENCOURAGE HIM, WELLS. Wells Jaha: …. Sorry (not sorry)

Clarke wasn’t really mad that he kept laughing. It was residual annoyance and a little embarrassment at his comment about Finn. Heavy footsteps stopped next to her and she turned around with plans to say, “It’s about damn time. Regardless of what Harper predicted, I will not be doing this whole thing alone.” Only a few words made it out, though, because it wasn’t Bellamy. It was Finn.

“What are you doing here?”

Finn chuckled. “I’m assuming the same as you. Studying? Can I sit down?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I won’t take much of your time.” He hesitated first, but sat down anyway. “What are you working on?”

Clarke sighed, but didn’t tell him to leave. “Group project for my Human Sexuality class.”

“Where’s your ‘group’?”

“Bellamy was being a child, so I left him at home. He’s supposed to meet me here once he stops giggling every time one of us says penis.”

“Oh.” Finn’s face darkened. He’d always been a little frustrated by that friendship. “You’re in a class with Bellamy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I’m also in a class with Octavia and Jasper and Monty. And I’m talking about taking a class with Wells next quarter. Why is that weird?”

“It’s not.” His voice was higher pitched than it should have been. “You’re friends. That’s why he punched me.”

“I don’t know what you think you know, but Bellamy basically thinks of me as an extension of Octavia. He would have punched you if you did the same thing to her.”

Finn scoffed and took a deep breath before speaking again. “I didn’t come over here to talk about him. I miss you, Clarke.”

“Finn, I need to work on this project. I don’t—“

“I’m in love with you Clarke,” he said in a rush. “I love you.” He waited hopefully. She didn’t say anything. “I want you to give us another chance.”

Clarke was quiet for a long time. She would have been lying if she said that there wasn’t a part of her that wanted that very much. But when she looked at him, her vision blurred and all she could see was pain; not only the pain he had caused her, but the pain he had caused Raven. She didn’t think she could do that to Raven. “You broke my heart.”

His eyes dropped to the table and he took a deep breath. Clarke studied the notebook in front of her, toying with the idea of packing up and leaving. If she stayed, he would keep trying to convince her. Raven might forgive her, if she caved, and she thought she might have been open to loving Finn at some point. The insurmountable problem was trust. If she forgave him, she would always wonder what he was up to when they weren’t together. There was no way she could live that way.

“Clarke, I know I –”

Finn snapped his mouth shut so fast she could hear his teeth click right before a hand appeared on her shoulder. Clarke glanced up and was overwhelmed by a flood of relief. Bellamy. He squeezed gently. “Sorry about before, Princess. You ready to try this again?” There was an obvious double meaning behind his question in his eyes. He had heard everything, or at least enough, and he was asking if she wanted him to leave. When she shook her head, almost imperceptibly, the small frown on his face disappeared and he turned back to Finn with a small smile. “We’re a little busy here, Collins.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Finn looked hurt, but he got up and left, only glancing back once.

Clarke couldn’t find the words as Bellamy sat down right next to her, leaving his hand on her shoulder. He tilted his head so he was looking her in the eye. “You alright?” She shrugged. “Sorry I kept laughing when we were talking about genitalia.”

Laughter started to bubble up inside of her. Clarke tried to tamp it down, but she wasn’t sure she had ever seen someone say the word genitalia so sincerely. Bellamy blinked at her, shocked, but that made her laugh harder. He tried to calm her down for a few minutes, but there was no stopping her. Soon, he was laughing just as hard.

They laughed so hard they kicked out of the library, so they went back to her dorm to try doing more prep work for their game. The problem was, one of them would snicker every time they came up with a new question and it had become about trying to get the other to flinch more than presenting actual usable questions. Octavia eventually yelled at them to stop grossing her out and get the hell out. They ended up back in his living room, but by then, the day was lost.

Well, it wasn’t totally lost. Clarke liked watching Bellamy laugh. She was glad he had followed her to the library. She was glad to have a friend like him to help pick her up when she was falling down. He made totally uncalled for comments all the time, but it was something she had come to rely on. It meant she could trust him, because he would always be honest, which may have been why there were so many questions she was scared to ask him.