#so the people who were invested in turning parts of the old base housing into low income housing pulled out

[comradecowplant]

A youtuber has made a video about a place very close to my hometown and I tell u what so far he is not being very factual and the latent small town instinct to rip disrespectful outsiders apart in defense of Our Town has activated >:(

[reasonsforhope]

Odd jobs are few and far between in Nearobo. Peter knows because every day he walks the streets of his village in south-east Liberia looking for one. In a good month, he might make $20 (£16.70). That’s hardly enough to feed himself, let alone his children.

But today things are looking up. As part of an innovative new donation scheme, Peter receives $40 (£33.40) per month for a minimum of three years. No paperwork. No requests for receipts. No catch of any kind, in fact. Just hard cash transferred straight to his mobile phone. 

The 59-year-old casual labourer plans to use the money to buy materials for a new home for himself and his family, he says. “Although it is going to take long, I will continue until my house is completed.”

The scheme is part of a new-look approach to development assistance that, if taken to scale, could potentially turn the £156bn international aid industry on its head.

At least, so says Rory Stewart, the former UK foreign secretary turned podcaster-in-chief (he co-hosts ‘The Rest is Politics’ with Alastair Campbell, a surprise hit which has topped the Apple podcast charts virtually every week since it launched a year ago). From his new base in Amman, Jordan, Stewart heads up GiveDirectly – the world’s fastest growing nonproft – who are behind the initiative.

“It’s a rather radical, simple idea to help people out of extreme poverty. We deliver the cash directly … there’s no middleman and no government getting in the way.”

It feels like an odd statement from someone who has spent much of his life in government service: first as a junior diplomat for eight years (during which he penned a bestselling book about dodging Taliban bullets and hungry wolves whilst walking across Afghanistan), followed by almost a decade as a politician at Westminster.

Pictured: Rory Stewart and GiveDirectly’s Ivan Ntwali talk with a refugee household in Rwanda. Image: GiveDirectly

His enthusiasm is even more surprising given his initial caution. During his various ministerial stints at the UK’s department for international development (including three months as secretary of state), he was an out-and-out “cash sceptic.” 

Giving away money with no strings attached was, he felt at the time, an impossible sell to tax-paying voters. What’s stopping recipients spending it down the pub? Or investing in a hair-brained business venture? 

Quite a lot it turns out. No one knows the value of money more than those who don’t have any, he argues. Give an impoverished mother-of-four $40 (£33.40) cash and, 99 times out of 100, she’ll spend it on something useful: repairs to the house, say, or school fees for her kids...

By virtue of GiveDirectly’s model, participants can spend their money on whatever they choose, but the charity’s research indicates that most goes towards food, medical and education expenses, durables, home improvement and social events.

On the flipside, Stewart also has numerous examples of well-funded aid projects that deliver next to nothing. A decade ago, the then United Nations general secretary Ban Ki-moon estimated that 30 per cent of aid money disappears in corruption. There is little to suggest much has changed.

The aid industry doesn’t need corrupt officials to see its funds evaporate, however; it has its own voluminous bureaucracy. Stewart recalls once visiting a $40,000 (£33,560) water and sanitation project in a school in an unnamed African country. The ‘deliverables’ were two brick latrines and five red buckets for storing water...

The beauty of direct giving, he stresses, is not just that it annuls opportunities for thievery and red tape; it also frees the world’s poorest individuals from the well-meaning but, very often, misplaced guidance of donors. An aid expert in Brussels or Washington DC may well have a PhD in development economics, but who is best to judge what a single mother in a Kinshasa slum needs most and how to obtain it most cheaply: the expert with her degree, or the mother with her hungry children?

Empowering recipients to decide for themselves helps end the kind of “mad world” where aid agencies pay to ship wheat from Idaho, US, to Antananarivo, Madagascar, only for local people to sell it in order to buy what they really want, Stewart reasons.

“So often, these communities are having to turn the goods we send them into cash anyway, but just in a very inefficient and wasteful fashion … instead [with direct cash transfers] they are given the choice and freedom in how to spend it.” 

Pictured: Villagers in Kilif, Kenya, at a public meeting about the GiveDirectly programme. Image: GiveDirectly

Is the system perfect? No, clearly not. Stewart concedes that opportunities for fraud and coercion exist. To minimise these risks, GiveDirectly employs field officers to meet face-to-face with recipients, as well as a team of telephone handlers and internal auditors to follow up on reports of irregularity.

By his reckoning, however, the biggest impediment to direct giving really taking off is donor reticence. At present, only 2 per cent of official aid is given direct in cash. Stewart thinks it should be closer to 60 or 70 per cent...

‘My children will not have to beg anymore’

Happiness Kadzmila from Malawi enrolled on GiveDirectly’s Basic Income project last summer. She will now receive $50 (£41) a month for a year ($600/£496 in total).

What are the biggest hardships you’ve faced in life?

I am a divorced mother of four children. I got divorced in 2020 while I was eight months pregnant with my last-born child. Since then, I have been depending on working on other people’s farms. I get paid $0.49 (£0.43), or a plate of maize flour per day. As a result, it has been a challenge to feed my children, buy clothes for them, and to pay their school fees My firstborn child is in year 4, the school charges $0.69 (£0.61) per day for her. My second is in year 3, I pay $0.49 (£0.43) for him. There were days when I would have no food in my home, and my children would go to my neighbours’ homes to beg for food. This made me feel sorry for my children as a mother.

What does receiving this money mean for you?

I was so happy the day I received cash amounting to $51.75 (£43.56) from GiveDirectly. I used the money to buy maize at $9.88 (£8.32). My children will not have to go to our neighbours to beg for food anymore. I also bought a sheep at $34.58 (£29.10). I will be selling sheep in future when they multiply. I also bought lotion and soap at $1.88 (£1.58).

How will you spend your future payments?

I plan to renovate my house. I have always admired those who sleep in houses made of a roof with iron sheets because they do not have to think of fetching grass every year for a new roof. I will also start a business selling doughnuts to sustain my income after I receive my last transfer. I did not know that an organisation like GiveDirectly would come to help me this way All I can say to those who are giving us this money is ‘thank you’."

-via Positive News, 3/3/23

More and More People to Help

In addition to their universal basic income programs, GiveDirectly also has dedicated programs where you can donate to emergency disaster relief, people living under the protracted civil war and human rights disaster in Yemen, refugees, and survivors of the Syria-Turkey earthquake.

They have also commissioned a number of large-scale, third-party studies on the effectiveness of their numerous universal basic income models. Find these and other projects here.

[foggyparadisecandy]

[TW: dark shit ahead]

Ok - another venting post - disregard - go read one of my horny hypno stories or a trance instead lol

Click here for trances

We all have our stories to tell. I don't think mine is horrible tbh but ... that's probably because I survived it and learned to minimalize it - like all survivors do.

"It's ok" "It's fine" "I'm ok" "Oh it wasn't that bad"

My therapist has assured me none of those things are true lol

My child mind couldn't process it and so I just learned patterns and behaviors to accept it in as my reality.

I had a loving healthy family up until I was 8 years old.

My mom had a horrible life-altering health scare - was taken away to the hospital by paramedics in the middle of the night - one of my last few memories from my childhood. My dad stood sobbing - the last time I saw an emotion from him that wasn't anger.

My younger bro and I were shuttled between relatives for a period of time - no idea how long - weeks? months? no clue

We were taken in to the hospital to see my mom at some point - banged up - shaved head - looking creepy as hell to our young eyes.

And ... this was horrific to me ... she told us - I'm sure it was based in kindness to prepare us - that she was given a year to live.

Well ... good news ... she lived a lot longer than that.

Bad news is she was horribly damaged from the brain injury and subsequent trauma of the life-altering experience. To compound things, my dad turned to drinking heavily and escaping us all in the bottom of a bottle.

I never again felt my father's love.

And my mom was mixed at best. Up and down. I would say somewhere along the lines she developed bipolar disorder - manic and depressive.

She would love us obsessively. She would threaten to kill us. I was always the one who had to walk her off the ledge - telling her I'm sorry we were bad kids. Telling her I'm sorry we upset her. Telling her we would be good from now on. Telling her we wanted to live.

She would bend over backwards to make us feel good. She would threaten to burn the house down while we were sleeping. Well ... how the fuck do you sleep well at night with that information? Gee mom ... that sounds awful. Will you please not do that? I slept with one eye open until finally I just accepted it - I could die at any moment because my mom was a nut.

She taught me to shoplift. When I got caught, she threw me under the bus and told the security guard that I was a problem child. HAHAHA ... I was a goody two shoes child. Having my mother tell a stranger I was a problem was quite a thing to hear. She apologized after and told me to never shoplift again. Fuck that. I kept stealing shit until I was in my late teens. I WANTED TO GET CAUGHT AND PUNISHED.

So yeah ... I know other people have had it hard. And honestly ... I really never felt it was challenging. I just learned to feel bad and anxious all the time. I learned that I was never good enough and things were always uncertain. Loved ones hurt you.

I know a lot of people who have learned that lesson in different ways.

I can identify hurt people instinctively. I gravitate to them. I've always been attracted to them.

Especially hurt women. I want to nurture them, comfort them, love them, care for them, help them, fix them, support them - just like I learned to do with my fucked up mom. It's no wonder my parting with my lovely pet was so difficult.

And I learned to not express emotions. I learned to be the stoic one. The problem solver. But ... I'm not really stoic at all. I love with a burning intensity - desperate to care and take care of others - especially hurt women. I invest my emotional well-being in this activity.

I don't love ALL women. But if I love you, I FUCKING LOVE YOU. And I know that's a blend between nice and awful tbh. I can drown people in love. Uncharitable sorts might say I love bomb people but I don't do it with ill intentions. I do it because it's my damage. And it's unhealthy for me.

Ugh.

Knowing these things is only partially helpful. I need to address them, sort them, heal them as best as I can, identify when I fall into unhealthy patterns, and ... grow ... somehow.

Whatever. This is why I'm seeing a therapist. To sort through all this horrible horrible horrible shit.

I need to do it. I'm motivated to do it. I'm sick of being insecure and depressed all the time. With the darkness always at the corner of my mind telling me I'm a piece of shit no matter how much love I try to put out in the world. No matter how much I achieve.

Fuck. Parents fucking suck.

It took me decades to be ok with not loving my dad - feeling obligated to love that mother fucker. He abandoned us to alcohol. He fucking gave up on us because he was a coward and afraid to face the challenges we had. WE NEEDED THAT FUCKER AND HE RAN!

FUCK. No wonder I have abandonment issues. My ex KNEW THIS SHIT. God was she so awful in the end. She had her own shit she was dealing with. I forgive her 100% but it was still so fucking cruel of her.

Ah well. Working on it.

[bllsbailey]

Biden Aside, The Regime Media Is Toast Too

Let’s put aside the crumbling ruins of the Democratic Party to celebrate, by making the rubble bounce, the total destruction of any residual credibility in the regime media. The regime media minions called in a napalm airstrike on their own position, and the fireball is rising. It’s beautiful, man.

For the last four years, the regime media has obediently defended Joe Biden against accurate observations by outsider media that he was a senile, decrepit, corrupt, old, perverted weirdo. This is because it didn’t matter to them that he was a senile, decrepit, corrupt, old, perverted weirdo. All that was fine. The regime media was perfectly happy with him being a senile, decrepit, corrupt, old, perverted weirdo as long as he wasn’t Donald Trump. So they either lied about it or did not do their purported job competently. Either way, they suck, and their sucking cannot and will not be hidden or excused.

Now, if you are of a certain age and you remember when the media at least pretended to be something other than a licensed and authorized propaganda front for the Democratic Party, you might be a little surprised at its open and obvious cheerleading for one partisan side. But to be surprised, you would literally have to have been in a coma for the last 20 years. The regime media is no longer a collection of once prestigious media outlets but a unified propaganda outfit. We based conservatives knew it. We had no doubt about it. We’ve been saying it to each other all along. This did not shock us. But it did shock normal people who still expected that the norms that the left had bulldozed, set on fire, and buried were still in play. It turns out they are not still in play and have not been in play for quite a while.

It was hilarious to watch the regime media hacks get all huffy about being shown to be clowns in the week of the disastrous debate. I wish I had invested in Jiffy-Pop. The simple fact is that they either knew about Joe Biden’s descent into dementialand or they didn’t know about his descent into dementialand. Neither one is a good look. Either they knew about it and covered it up, which I think is what actually happened, or they didn’t know about it and ended up looking almost as incompetent as the guy they were protecting. That might be worse.

We conservatives knew about it. We in the conservative media have been talking about his senility for years. I have certainly done my part. Do a Google search using the terms “Kurt Schlichter Townhall dementia Biden” and you get countless columns pointing out that this guy was a shambling golem since before he ever even allegedly won the presidency. How did we knuckle-dragging right-wing extremists manage to discover something all the geniuses of the regime media somehow overlooked? We conservative media types didn’t attend the University of College’s prestigious Media Matters School of Journalisming. They all did. That’s how they got their gigs at the New York Times, the Washington Post, NBC News, and all those other paragons of reporting excellence that didn’t manage to notice that Joe Biden was perpetually on the verge of soiling himself in public. How could they fail to ferret out this important information? Obviously, they weren’t looking. Did they somehow believe that because the right-wing media had identified an issue that they couldn’t look into it? Yes! We just watched over the last month as the regime media dismissed our observations of reality as a “cheap fake” conspiracy theory. Or, even more embarrassingly, did they actually believe the lies the Biden courtiers told them? “It’s a stutter, and if you say anything about it, you are a right-wing racist!”

There is no good outcome for them. There is only a good outcome for us, assuming our enemies around the world don’t use the incompetence of the White House as an excuse to nuke us. As I have said many times before, we are not the target of these revelations. All these revelations do is confirm what we’ve known through all the various regime media lie-cycles over the past decade. Remember the Russiagate lie? They gave each other Pulitzers over that one. Remember how Covid wasn’t brewed up in a Wuhan lab, and to so say it was anything but contagious pangolins was racist? Remember how Hunter‘s laptop was Russian disinformation – 51 bureaucratic hacks said so, dammit!

No, we conservatives know that if the media is talking, the regime media is lying in the service of the Democratic Party. But normal people don’t, or at least they didn’t until debate night. Normal people don’t go through life following these issues. Normal people go through life having actual lives. Every once in a while, politics intrudes on them because they’re good citizens, and they feel that they should at least pay a little bit of attention to politics around election time. And, unfortunately for Joe Biden, they paid attention when he challenged Donald Trump to walk into an ambush and ended up staggering out mortally wounded.

You couldn’t ask for a better humiliation for the regime media, which has no real choice but to fall back on “Gosh, can you believe those people in the Biden administration lied to us? What a bunch of rascals they are!” Their shameless finger-pointing is hilarious. It’s delightful to remind the Jake Tappers and Peter Bakers and Tater Stelter that if you have been reading Townhall, you knew the truth, and if you had been watching/reading CNN, the New York Times, or the Potato Post, you were utterly ignorant and misinformed.

What the regime media is going to find is its already limited credibility even more hamstrung, and that’s great because the regime media has been a potent weapon in the Democrat arsenal. Normal people just going through their day watching “Good Morning America” or “The View” or any of those other idiotic shows did not realize that they were actually being wet down by an unfiltered fire hose of leftist propaganda. The leftist messaging was hidden behind a haze of objectivity and delivered by nice ladies and men who pretended not to have an agenda when they totally had an agenda. But now, normal people know that these folks are liars. They know that they have been pulling an okey-doke. They know that the regime media has been treating them like idiots, and, hopefully, they are offended.

Yes, for the next couple of decades, every time the regime media says anything to us, our response needs to be, “What about Russiagate, Laptopgate, and Dementiagate?” To the limited extent that any Republican ever again goes on any of those regime channels or talks to any of the regime reporters, the first thing out of his mouth needs to be, “You’ve already shown yourself to be liars by pretending Joe Biden wasn’t senile until he senile all over himself on the debate stage, so I don’t expect to be treated fairly here. I expect you to continue to lie to your viewers and to me, and I’m going to point it out. Now, what are your loaded questions?”

The regime media could never endure for long pretending to be objective to get the benefits and respect an objective outlet is entitled to while simultaneously shrimping the toes of the Democrat Party. This collapse was inevitable. This humiliation was deserved. And this farce will never be forgotten.

Follow Kurt on Twitter @KurtSchlichter. Get the newest volume in the Kelly Turnbull People’s Republic series of conservative action novels set in America after a notional national divorce, the bestselling Amazon #1 Military Thriller, Overlord! And get his new novel about terrorism in America, The Attack!

Look, you need to keep up the fight by joining Townhall VIP right now. You get access to a bunch of great stuff, not the least of which is my extra Wednesday column, my weekly Stream of Kurtiousness videos every Friday, and the Unredacted podcast every Monday! Plus, some stuff from Larry O’Connor – and a bunch of other stuff.

Trending on Townhall Videos

[a-catgirl-cafe]

'Rich Men North of Richmond' is one big dog-whistle, not an anti-establishment anthem

"An overnight sensation" TikToker Oliver Anthony's sound and artistry can't be denied, but a few more things become undeniable as you dive into the lyrics of his break-out song. The elephant in the room is the title itself, but I would like to start with the first verse.

“I’ve been selling my soul Working all-day Overtime hours, bullshit pay So I can sit out here And waste my life away…”

Because this is what first falls into your ears and when I first heard it I was totally with it. The emotion and soul he sings these words with as well as the sentiment itself was something I was instantly in accord with.

If the message and tone stayed here, this would be a totally different review and I'd probably be an Oliver Anthony fan right now. But that's not how it went.

For a while I was paying more attention to the sound of his voice and instrument, which are captivating and stirring. I appreciate the old-school sound, the authenticity is a fresh contrast to the artificiality of mainstream music and contemporary country music specifically.

One line started to pull out the political analyst in me. He seemed to be blaming inflation on taxes? Oh, well. He's an artist not an economist. That doesn't detract much from his overall message…but the next line made me wonder, what is his message anyway?

He lost me completely in verse two which takes a decidedly reactionary turn with its first two lines:

“I wish politicians would look out for miners And not just minors on an island somewhere”

I had flashbacks to all the times people who were "definitely not racist, but…" wanted to "take care of our own" before we did anything for those people. It's such a trope and I really don't have to explain it. The only thing in Anthony's favour are the words "not just", implying we can walk and chew gum at the same time, and that's the weak defence my mind rushed to before concluding: if that's what you really meant, just drop these lines — they just make you look bad.

Also, just what are your plans for making miners lives better? What if we invested in more solar and banned coal-burning energy and did job training to get them better, safer work, perhaps in solar energy? Maybe establish a Universal Basic Income to catch people who fall between the cracks. Which brings me to the part where it all fell apart for me.

He pleads with us that there are people on the street who have nothing to eat. True enough. Thanks to gentrification more and more people are being priced out of their neighborhoods and becoming unhoused. Corporations are buying up property across the country at an alarming rate and hiking the prices, making housing unaffordable for more and more people.

And while food insecurity is bad enough in urban communities it's actually worse in rural areas were the job market is crap, transportation is needlessly difficult and even people who are starving can't qualify for assistance. Wait — that's not what we're talking about? The fat people are eating all their food? Really? That's your take? Social media told me this was an "anti-establishment" song and that's your take?

Yes, would-be working-class hero Oliver Anthony is warning us that the obese are "milking welfare".

I guess we found out that "people like me and people like you" doesn't include minors on islands and fat people on financial assistance. Neat.

He is under the false assumption that unfortunately many people accept, that obesity is a personal moral failing. That it's due to overindulgence or a lack of discipline. and we now KNOW that's bullshit. It's been disproved. There are many reasons people can't lose weight and you can't look at someone and know if they are working hard enough on themselves to "earn" welfare. And you can't know what someone's regular diet is based on a single purchase they made. And it's none of our fucking business anyway.

I'd love it if Americas stopped eating so much damn meat. We have too much protein in our diets, it's making us sick, it's torturing animals, destroying the environment. Until someone dies and make you Food Lord, let the fatty enjoy their treat in the relative peace they can find in our ever-worsening capitalist dystopia.

Also, in my opinion there is no such thing as "milking welfare" unless you are committing actual fraud or are a corporation getting corporate welfare which shouldn't be a thing and pales in comparison to anything the poor are taking. Take everything you qualify for. Money is fake, our labour is exploited. The poor don't set the policies, the rich do. The poor don't decide what is offered to us for free. If we did, we'd get hot meals. The fact that food-stamps cover fudge rounds and not a hot meal is because the rich have decided it's better for them and their interests.

Anyway, everything I've gone into so far is nothing compared to the elephant in the room I alluded to from the start, the title itself.

"Rich men north of Richmond". It's a nice turn-of-phrase. It's catchy, sounds good and it's a poetic way to refer to politicians in our nation's capital which, referencing a map, is north of, and in relative close proximity to the city of Richmond, capital of the commonwealth of Virginia and…former capital of…the Confederate States of America.

As a former neo-confederate, Civil War history buff and reenactor, this aspect was the first thing that hit me when I saw the title and it stuck with me as I listened to the track in full. And the more I thought about the song in its entirety, the more the dog-whistle interpretation made sense and the less the innocent artistic explanation made sense.

A user on Genius.com commented on these lines of the song and how the song can be seen through the lens of the pseudohistorical "Lost Cause" narrative of the Civil War in which the North as aggressor, ruined the (slave) economy of the South, taking "total control" from the government in Richmond. The lines that go:

“Lord, it's a damn shame what the world's gotten to For people like me and people like you Wish I could just wake up and it not be true But it is, oh, it is”

can be seen as a lament at the way the war ended, which the narrator blames for his current economic condition.

This insight does clarify some of the songs more (intentionally?) vague lines, for example "people like me and people like you" would then be a wink-and-a-nudge reference to white southerners. That seems to me to be the target audience and message of the song.

That's my opinion, I will include the links to the lyrics from Genius.com and I will include the annotations about the "Lost Cause" interpretation below. Read that and also read the lyrics in full and all the other annotations on the Genius.com page and make up your own mind.

Even if you don't ultimately come to the same conclusions, I hope you will see there are enough red-flags that concern is rational and valid and that Oliver Anthony should be viewed with caution and we should not be surprised if he turns out to be overtly problematic and reactionary.

Full lyrics with user-created annotations via Genius Lost Cause interpretation: "These rich men north of Richmond"

There are two viable explanations of the lyric. With Washington, DC being directly north of Richmond, Virginia, the lyric calls out leaders in both parties for presiding over an economic system that makes the rich richer on the backs of the rest of us. Seen another way, it is a not-so-subtle reference to the Civil War, when Richmond, VA, the capital of the slave states in rebellion, sat just below the Confederacy’s northern border and just south of Washington, DC. Richmond, the largest city in Virginia by far at the time, effectively formed the northernmost edge of the Confederacy. So, everything to the north of Richmond was enemy territory to the slave states. After the war, the defeated South adopted the “Lost Cause” narrative, which explained the loss in terms of a resource-rich North as the aggressor against a pastoral “Old South” whose enslaved humans were generally contented and well cared for.

"Lord knows they all just wanna have total control"

This continues the “Lost Cause” narrative of the title line. In the former slave states' Lost Cause explanation of the Civil War, it was not slavery but, instead, freedom that inspired the South’s rebellion against the United States. Preeminent historian of the Civil War James M. McPherson explains: "The theme of liberty, not slavery, as the cause for which the South fought became a mantra in the writings of old Confederates and has been taken up by neo-Confederates in our own time." While contemporaneous rhetoric of Confederate leaders made clear that the preservation of slavery is what provoked the Southern states to rebellion, the Lost Cause myth, developed after the South’s defeat, sought to revise history to insist that the North’s desire for control caused the war.

[neesieiumz]

intertwined -- s.todoroki and i.midoriya

synopsis: it’s been a year since the divorce, six months since you’ve come back. Let’s take glimpse into the progression and regression of our main characters. 

summary: Y/n has an interview, Shouto and her live together, and Izuku is slowly succumbing of his own madness and memories. 

a/n: heyyyyyy... it’s been a while.... honestly, it’s not that good, but I really wanted to give you something cause I haven’t updated anything... this will be the official last part to this... will I make another series based on him never cheating... we’ll see

word count: 4.4k

If you told fifteen-year-old Shouto Todoroki that in ten years, he’d be cuddled up with the girl of his dreams in his high rise penthouse, watching a cheesy rom-com his mom would put on all the time. 

He would have looked at you like you were crazy. 

He tightened his grip around you, his effort to pull you even closer more than futile. It was late at night, getting closer and closer to one am. Nudging his nose into your covered head, the faint smell of coconut and tropical products invading his nose even so slightly. It eased him more, the adrenaline rush from his day job rushing through him. A blanket draped over the both of you, the two of you had cleaned up for the day and laid on top of his king-sized bed. The two of you did nightly movie nights, something to relax the both of you. You were on-call while he wasn’t after taking shifts back to back. 

Owning an agency and just being a part of one were two different things, Becoming one of the youngest in the country to own his agency, granted he did inherit the building from his father, it was still no joking matter.

There were only five people in their class who owned agencies, both he and Tenya inherited their agencies from their families. Katsuki started one with Ejirou, the rest of his close friends signed under the two of them. There was one more left… someone who wished to never even think of it again. 

Unfortunately, he's the top of their society, number one hero, and unless something happened, he would remain just that. 

He glanced down at you, seeing you snuggled up at his side, invested in the corny sappy storyline of the movie. You wore his shirt, the material fitting just right around you, not to lose but not tight at the same time. It draped like a dress and if he looked further, he could see long knee socks crossed and tucked up under you. 

He titled his head, a soft smile appearing on his face, his grazing over your face ever so slowly. The sparkle of your eyes as you watch the main characters kiss, the sounds of your scoffs as your anger rose at the miscommunication between the two of them. He took another deep breath, leaned over to hive one more kiss on the top of your head before turning back to the large t.v. 

Life was good, so very good. 

---

A door slammed behind him.

It was eerily silent in the large mansion. 

Heavy steps echoed throughout the house, the sounds of buckles unlocking, metals dropping the floor. His head hung heavy, the tops of his dark green hair covering his face. His eyes were heavy, dark bags dropped from the bottoms of his eyes. He took off the last of his utility belt before chucking off his iron-soled shoes. He threw them in some insignificant corner, he’ll take care of that later. He walked up the spiral stairs, walking past the closed doors of empty bedrooms. At the end of the hall, he opened the door, revealing a soulless bedroom. Just like the rest of the house, it was dark, bleak even. Any evidence of a person, or even two people living here was non-evident. 

Izuku Midoriya sighed, dropping the bag in his hands before turning to his right. He entered the attached bathroom, turning on the light. Almost immediately, it hit him, as he glanced at his appearance in the mirror. 

God, he was a fucking mess. 

His hair was dirty from the soot of the fire he had walked into, saving a family of five. He had a treated burn mark on his face, he expected that to clear up within two days. His face both looked and felt heavy, His eyes, lost the light long ago. He slowly looked down, slowly opening his gloved hands. He blinked at himself once, twice even. He then looked back at himself one more time, before shaking his head. 

He turned towards the shower, reaching in to turn it on before taking off the rest of his hero suit. Once the water was hot, he stepped in the water rinsing off the loose dirt and soot. Izuku sighed, the hot water easing his aches and pains. 

Fresh out of the shower, Izuku jogged down the stairs, wearing nothing but a loose shirt and some random sweatpants. Around his shoulders was a wet towel, used to catch the drips of water from his hair. As he arrived on the first floor, he took a turn, the familiar door in his sights. Slowly he opened the door, revealing the darkroom. Once he was surrounded by darkness, he locked the door behind him, before reaching for the light switch. 

Just like the rest of the house, the office was bleak, all the little things you had left around the office gone. The fluffy pink blanket you left folded on the couch, just in case you wanted to be close to him while he worked. He took a deep breath as if a mirage had taken over, seeing the memory of those late nights. 

“Mmmh, Izuku when are you gonna be done with your work?” 

The clicking of a laptop keyboard rang throughout the room, the late-night light hovering over the computer. There you sat, well laid down, the blanket curled around your body. Just over there was Izuku, working on late-night reports that he’d brought home. It was just a few months after your wedding, and the honeymoon high was still evident in the air. 

Izuku remembered that feeling, it was a light and airy feeling. Throughout the entire relationship, that time after the honeymoon was one he most cherished… guess that’s why they call it the honeymoon phase. 

Izuku hummed, glancing over at his wife, who illuminated in the low light. He gave her a smile, before glancing at the report… it was basically done, he could just clean it up right before patrol before emailing it. With a set mind, Izuku saved his paper before turning off his computer fully and shuffling out of his seat. 

Your smile got bigger and bigger as Izuku approached you, squealing as he basically belly-flopping on top of you. You gasped, your back arching as you felt his lips descend on top of your neck. You dug your hands under him, pulling out the fluffy blanket before wrapping over and on top of him. He was shirtless, so you could feel his warmth through your thin nightgown, instantly warming you and your hands. 

“Mmh Izuku,” you hummed, slowly trekking your hands through his green locks. 

He chuckled into your neck, the low rumbles only making you throw your head back in bliss even further. 

Izuku took a deep breath, leaning back again this seat as looked all around his office. Everywhere was flooded by you, you were all on his mind, and you will always be his greatest regret. 

“Petal…” He let out his nickname for you, reaching out to the picture frame in his office. 

Was every day gonna be like this?

---

“You want me to do what?”

There you sat, fresh off a patrol and currently running against time to meet Shouto in his penthouse. It was 7:30 in the evening, and you just wanted to curl up against him, a glass of wine in hand, watching cheesy romance movies. Surprisingly, they were his favorite, said he’d watch them with his mom when his father wasn’t training him. It was something you were looking forward to since the two of you had been so busy with upcoming missions, emergency patrols, situations, and up-ticking violence. The idea of the two of you have the same time off was something you had finally looked forward to. Until you were suddenly called into a meeting with PR. 

That can never be good.

“It’s been over a year since you and Hero Deku divorced, the world still has questions to this day. Yet, neither of you have revealed any interesting details pertaining to the divorce.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, “what Pro-hero Deku and I have and had is none of most people’s business. With all due respect, shouldn’t people focus on my stats on saving people as a combat-rescue hero?”

The PR person, Lila, was her name, simply gave you a smile, as if you were a child. 

“Aww, you heroes really don’t know what goes in your reputation.”

You narrowed your eyes at that but Lila quickly moved in before you could speak up, “while people should care about how you save people and things like that. People will always be invested in the personal lives of our heroes. It’s just the principle, the way things are. Hero H/n.”

“You weren’t and aren’t just any random pro-hero, you were the wife to the number one hero, also a hero yourself. Your hus-ex-husband is thee person people look up to, people look up to a lot of heroes. Our boss included. But he was All Might’s protegee, people called him the Symbol of Hope, he led Japan into a new era whilst in high school.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, “I know, I was there.”

Lila just hummed at that, “I’m just saying, a nighttime interview is perfect for you. Open up about the divorce, what went down, and how you are moving on. People are talking about you pursuing a new romance, but don’t know who it was, maybe we can get something about that?”

A year passed since you and Izuku officially divorced, you had been a hero for nine months, climbing back into the rankings quickly. You even passed the position you were in before you retired, officially making you the number 16th hero. Ever since then, people have constantly asked you about the real reason you and Izuku divorced. Whenever the press would ambush you after setting a situation, you’d always expect at least five of them would ask about your crumbled relationship. It’s the same with Izuku, from what you see online. He would just give that sheepishly awkward smile, rub the back of his head before flying away. 

You hadn’t seen Izuku since that night he had confronted Shouto on the blooming relationship between the two of you. Since then, you’d avoid him like he was a venomous snake. Whenever there was the possibility that the two of you had to team up on a mission both you and Shouto would make it so that he couldn’t possibly make any contact with you, no matter how much Izuku wanted to speak to you. 

You hadn’t realized how much people really looked up to your relationship until you had scrolled through Twitter one night, seeing different tweets crying over the ruined relationship. So in a way, Lila was right. Both of you were public figures and somehow need to finally speak on this after some time.

You gave Lila a look, “I’ll think about it, but no promises.”

Lila just gave you a smile, before saying that the meeting was over, finally allowing you to leave tp go meet up with Shouto

---

You sighed, curling up into the cooler side of Shouto. On the table in front of you were two half-full glasses of red and white wine, respectively yours and Shouto’s. You wore a loose shirt,  an extra-large Red Riot shirt with a pair of shorts as well whilst Shouto wore a pair of sweatpants and a blank white shirt. Shouto was getting the movie ready, choosing another one of his favorites, while you got comfortable under his touch. 

“Hey, I had a meeting with one of the agency’s PR people, Lila, I think was her name.”

You could feel Shouto move under you, causing you to look up and see him looking down at you. He hummed, encouraging you to continue with your thought.

“Yeah? Anything significant happened?”

You thought back to the meeting, “she wants me to do a nighttime television interview.”

“A nighttime interview?”

You shuffled your shoulders, “Apparently, people really looked up to me and Izuku. Leaving the public with little to no explanation is only causing both my ratings and the agency’s ratings to be shot.”

“I’m still surprised people put a lot into ratings after everything that happened with my father.”

You chuckled a bit, lightly tapping your hand against him, he only smiled down at you and continued to hold you throughout the movie. 

“Yeah, but apparently I and Izuku were different. Something about us being Japan’s First Couple like we’re the fucking President and First Lady.”

Shouto hummed, “Well, she wasn’t wrong about that. Anything Midoriya did had a major influence over Japan, and your relationship with him was definitely one of them.”

You sighed, snuggling into his chest, “Yeah, but she wants me to talk bout the divorce, but there isn’t much to talk about me and him. Other than ht most obvious fact that he cheated on me. But I can’t say that.”

“I disagree with that, but let’s move on.”

Shouto has always disagreed with your agreement with Izuku not to say anything about his infidelity. He wanted you to tell the world what he did to you because seeing people still look up and have loyalty to someone who couldn’t even have loyalty to his wife was sickening to him. Ever since you told him what happened, Izuku and Shouto’s relationship has yet to be repaired. You doubt it would ever be. You knew about their history, how Izuku was literally his very first friend. So, despite how he wouldn’t tell you, cutting Izuku off truly hurt him. You’d see him staring at the picture the two of them took back when they had first graduated, becoming sidekicks at Endeavours Agency with Katsuki. It was one where his smile was as big as Izuku’s, cause he had his two friends still by his side. 

“Shouto, he’s still one of your closest friends.”

“On the contrary, I have barely spoken a word to him since that night in my office. Katsuki is the one still speaking to him. But whatever, let’s move on.”

Despite everything, you constantly try to encourage him to at least talk through things with Izuku. However, SHouto was stubborn,m refusing to have anything to do with him anymore after the destruction of you two’s relationship. 

You hummed, giving him a teasing smile, although there was a slight tenseness behind it,  “yeah, yeah let’s move on.”

“All in all, there’s always more for people to talk about other than divorce. I’d say if you don’t want to reveal the cheating yet, answer the questions as especially as possible without giving away what really happened. The only people that know are your parents, me, and Katsuki because Izuku can’t hide anything from him as hard as he tries.”

“So you think the interview is a good idea?” You ask him, reaching over for your cup of red. 

He looks up in thought, before slowly shaking his head, “yeah, I think it is.”

---

Copious amounts of clapping echoed throughout the studio audience, cheers and whoops came out before the host stood, quieting them down. The stage lights gleamed down against the woman standing in the middle of the stage, her pastel pink hair gleamed with shining oil against the light. She wore a navy blue tailored suit, with a loose off-white blouse. 

“Alright, alright,” she gave a shining smile, “next up on our show is definitely a bombshell herself. After the shocking news of her sudden divorce to the Number One hero in Japan. She stuns on the scene once again, re-taking up her hero alias and signing on with one of the top hero agencies in this country, everyone please give it up from Japan’s Forever First Lady, Hero H/n.”

Once again, the crowd cheered, and soon you appeared, gleaming within the limelight. You wore an off-white set. High-waisted pants that were ruched and bunched up at the center, along with a thick-strapped halter-crop-top whose size could be changed with the pull of a string, you also paired with loose sleeves that started at around your elbows and flowed down. You wore matching platform heels and your’s hair was in butterfly-locs, decorated with off-white and gold string, and simply flowed down, brushing up again your shoulders. 

Mayoko Nobira, the host of Late Night with Nobira, came up to you, giving you a small hug before leading you to the very comfy couch. The crowd only continued to cheer and scream louder, louder, and louder. It continued on for a full minute, only allowing you to gaze in the audience in amazement at the number of people cheering for you. The live studio audience was bigger than most others because Nobira’s show was the biggest in Japan’s pulling in an average of 1.5 million views per episode, not including clips she posts on YouTube. And considering who you are, you might have pulled in even more viewers for tonight. 

Nobira soon calmed the crowd down before officially turning to you

“Tonight must be so different from you, no one’s ever been able to pull you for a sit-down interview in over four years.”

You nodded your head, smiling, “yes, it’s been a long time since I’ve done one of these, but I am so happy to be here.”

“Thank you, and you look good!” Nobira exclaimed, gesturing to your outfit, making you smile, and thanking her for the compliment. 

“Now, let’s get into it. After five years, last year you came out of retirement, and since then you;v been skyrocketing in the ranks. People have obviously missed you on the scene, so my first question to you is, do you regret retiring in the first place?”

You took a deep breath, giving a small tense smile, “I do, yeah I do. I can’t deny it, but at that time in my life, there were many different changes going on. I had really bad injuries from a fight that I was still recovering from. Many different things I was discussing with people I love and loved. So, at the time, I thought pulling myself out of the limelight would be the best course of action at the time. But, now that I’m here after almost ten years of my life, I can say I haven’t been as happier as I am right now.”

Nobira’s smile widened just a bit, “let’s go back to a sentence you said, “Many different things I was discussing with people I love and loved.”

You nodded, straightening up a bit at the innuendo, “yes…?”

“Last year, just around this time, the news rocked the entire country for your sudden divorce from this country’s number one hero, Izuku Midoriya.”

You nodded your head, keeping quiet. 

“I can honestly remember where I was when the news broke, as can many people in this audience and around the world can as well. You gave little to no news on your position, as did your ex-husband and many of your peers and known close friends of yours. If possible, what spurred the divorce? Was it a sudden decision? Or was it a long time coming and absolutely no one saw it coming?”

You titled your head, peering and looking to both Nobira and the crowd. The slice was truly deafening, it was as of the entire audience was on the edge of their seat, eyes constantly peering into your soul.

“... a little bit of both, if I’m being honest. If I truly think about it… it was a long time coming, but I had spent years convincing myself that I… was in a relationship that befitted me. I loved Izuku, I will always love Izuku but… we wanted two different things. At the time, I complied with what he wanted, but soon after time, I found myself deteriorating over the years. I believe Izuku saw that, even if he’ll never admit it to me, and in the end, we had two paths that completely diverged. So one day, after significant events, and some arguments, I made the decision to leave.”

Was this a lie? No, after a year of thinking, this was how you truly felt over everything that happened. You were deteriorating and you were believing you were in a happy relationship but you were never happy. Did hold back a few more details? Yes, the world didn’t need to know that.

“So, it was Pro-hero Deku’s fault, that the two of you fell out of love?”

You immediately shook your head, “it was both of our faults, it’s not just one person in a relationship, it’s two. We both kept trying to live a lie between ourselves and until one day… I had enough.”

Nobira hummed, “oh wow… never thought I’d hear something being the fault of Pro-hero Deku’s?”

You giggled, “Izuku is human, and humans make mistakes. I don’t hold any resentment to him and I wish him all the best in his endeavors. I hope he doesn’t hold any resentment towards me as well.”

Nobira smiled at you, “I’m sure he could never truly hate you! Now let’s talk about last week’s arrests!”

Nobira trailed off, and for a moment, you drifted with your thoughts. I hope this would be enough. Maybe people can finally leave the past between you and Izuku alone, and maybe you can focus on this brand new chapter in your life.

---

“So it was Pro-hero Deku’s fault, that the two of you fell out of love?”

“Yes, it was,” a low mumble rang out. 

Sheets ruffled, and blankets on the floor, Izuku laid across his California King size matres, dressed in nothing but a fluffy green robe and eating mint chocolate chip ice cream straight out of the bucket.

You shook your head at her question, the light of the studio giving you a halo glow, “it was both of our faults, it’s not just one person in a relationship, it’s two. We both kept trying to live a lie between ourselves and until one day… I had enough.”

God, even after divorce and separation there you were, protecting him. It was just like that day all those years ago. 

That day of battle. 

If he wasn’t so stupid, you wouldn’t have had to save him. If it wasn’t for that, he wouldn’t have come up with that stupid, idea for you to retire so fucking early in your career… god you wouldn’t be sitting here right now, telling the world that he was not only to blame in the divorce.

When in fact he was.

He looked back at you, the short think locs looked amazing on you, the intertwined strings only making you look so much more beautiful… God, you looked happy, so fucking happy. He hoped… he hopes Todoroki was making you happy. He glanced down at your chest, a necklace with a single charm dangled down. This may pass over most people’s eyes, but he knew better. He recognized that necklace from anywhere. 

“Here, you should give this to her.”

Izuku glanced down at his friend’s hand, “what’s this?”

Shouto opened his mouth, closed it again, before opening it again, “I bought it a while ago, but I never had the courage to give it to her. Now that the two of you are engaged… I thought you could give this to her instead.”

Izuku glanced down at the gold necklace, with a single charm hanging off. It was of an intertwining heart, with a pure ruby in the space of a heart in the middle. 

“How… how much did you spend on this necklace Shouto?”

He only blinked at Izuku, “does it really matter?”

Izuku slowly nodded his head, “I-I can’t give this to her, you know that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you spent so much on a necklace for her, you should be the one to give it to her.”

“No.”

Izuku was exasperated, “why not?!?”

“Because I was too late!” Shouto was huffing and puffing at this point, the necklace case closed and grasped firmly in his hand. 

“Too late…?”

Shouto took heavy breaths, before slowly lifting his head to look at his first friend, “I bought this cause… I wanted to confess to her. But I was too much of a coward, now look at me. Here, celebrating her engagement to YOU of all people, telling you of how much I love her.” His voice cracked at the end, tears welling in his eyes, 

“Shouto…”

He simply sniffed, wiping his eyes, “don’t feel sorry for me Izuku, I chose this.”

He handed the box over to Izuku once again, “please give it to her.”

Izuku looked up at Shouto before looking back at the box. He then reached out, grasping a hand over the box, before pushing his hands back to Shouto. Shouto looked at Izuku with shock, while Izuku gave him a small smile. 

“Give it to her, trust me. She’ll appreciate it coming from her “Shou”.”

He simply shook his head, “I can’t, Izuku I can’t.”

Izuku simply sighed, “okay, then don’t… give it to her when you want. Keep it.

Shouto looked up at him, “when I want? Do you know what you’re asking me?”

“Telling you to confess to her whenever you’re ready? Yeah. Unlike what you may think, I still trust you. Our friendship wasn’t gonna change just because you told me of your feelings for her. I trust her as well.”

“Izuku…”

Izuku simply chuckled, pulling Shouto in for a one-sided hug, “trust me, it isn’t easy confessing to her. She’s literally a goddess walking amongst us… you should have seen me when I asked her on our first date. Was a shaking, crying mess.”

Shouto let out a loud guffaw, throwing his head back at that. 

“Yeah, I can see you like that.”

The two of them laughed a little more, Izuku going into detail about their first date and the dates after that. The light conversation eased Shouto’s nerves, pocketing away the necklace. 

“Hey… Izuku… can you promise me something?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you’re literally incapable of this but… don’t hurt her, please.”

Izuku’s smile upturned a little, “yeah, I promise you I won’t.”

Izuku took a deep breath, his eyes following the red reflection of the ruby heart in the middle of your chest. 

“Guess you finally found the courage to confess, huh Shouto?”

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Was doing Staged a big decision, because it’s so personal and set in your homes? Georgia Tennant: We’d always been a very private couple. Staged was everything we’d never normally say yes to. Suddenly, our entire house is on TV and so is a version of the relationship we’d always kept private. But that’s the way to do it, I guess. Go to the other extreme. Just rip off the Band-Aid.

Anna Lundberg: Michael decided pretty quickly that we weren’t going to move around the house at all. All you see is the fireplace in our kitchen.

GT: We have five children, so it was just about which room was available.

AL: But it’s not the real us. It’s not a documentary.

GT: Although some people think it is.

Which fictional parts of the show do people mistake for reality? GT: People think I’m really a novelist because “Georgia” writes a novel in Staged. They’ve asked where they can buy my book. I should probably just write one now because I’ve done the marketing already.

AL: People worry about our elderly neighbour, who gets hospitalised in the show. She doesn’t actually exist in real life but people have approached Michael in Tesco’s, asking if she’s OK.

Michael and David squabble about who’s billed first in Staged. Does that reflect real life? AL: With Good Omens, Michael’s name was first for the US market and David’s was first for the British market. So those scenes riffed on that.

Should we call you Georgia and Anna, or Anna and Georgia? GT: Either. We’re super-laidback about these things.

AL: Unlike certain people.

How well did you know each other before Staged? GT: We barely knew each other. We’ve now forged a friendship by working on the show together.

AL: We’d met once, for about 20 minutes. We were both pregnant at the time – we had babies a month apart – so that was pretty much all we talked about.

Did you tidy up before filming? AL: We just had to keep one corner relatively tidy.

GT: I’m quite a tidy person, but I didn’t want to be one of those annoying Instagram people with perfect lives. So strangely, I had to add a bit of mess… dot a few toys around in the background. I didn’t want to be one of those insufferable people – even though, inherently, I am one of those people.

Was there much photobombing by children or pets? AL: In the first series, Lyra was still at an age where we could put her in a baby bouncer. Now that’s not working at all. She’s just everywhere. Me and Michael don’t have many scenes together in series two, because one of us is usually Lyra-wrangling.

GT: Our children aren’t remotely interested. They’re so unimpressed by us. There’s one scene where Doris, our five-year-old, comes in to fetch her iPad. She doesn’t even bother to glance at what we’re doing.

How was lockdown for you both? AL: I feel bad saying it, but it was actually good for us. We were lucky enough to be in a big house with a garden. For the first time since we met, we were in one place. We could just focus on Lyra . To see her grow over six months was incredible. She helped us keep a steady routine, too.

GT: Ours was similar. We never spend huge chunks of time together, so it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. At least until David’s career goes to shit and he’s just sat at home. The flipside was the bleakness. Being in London, there were harrowing days when everything was silent but you’d just hear sirens going past, as a reminder that something awful was going on. So I veered between “This is wonderful” and “This is the worst thing that ever happened.”

And then there was home schooling… GT: Which was genuinely the worst thing that ever happened.

You’ve spent a lot of time on video calls, clearly. What are your top Zooming tips? GT: Raise your camera to eye level by balancing your laptop on a stack of books. And invest in a ring light.

AL: That’s why you look so much better. We just have our sad kitchen light overhead, which makes us look like one massive shiny forehead.

GT: Also, always have a good mug on the go [raises her cuppa to the camera and it’s a Michael Sheen mug]. Someone pranked David on the job he’s shooting at the moment by putting a Michael Sheen mug in his trailer. He brought it home and now I use it every morning. I’m magically drawn to drinking out of Michael.

There’s a running gag in series one about the copious empties in Michael’s recycling. Did you lean into lockdown boozing in real life? AL: Not really. We eased off when I was pregnant and after Lyra was born. We’d just have a glass of wine with dinner.

GT: Yes, definitely. I often reach for a glass of red in the show, which was basically just an excuse to continue drinking while we were filming: “I think my character would have wine and cake in this scene.” The time we started drinking would creep slightly earlier. “We’ve finished home schooling, it’s only 4pm, but hey…” We’ve scaled it back to just weekends now.

How did you go about creating your characters with the writer Simon Evans? AL: He based the dynamic between David and Michael on a podcast they did together. Our characters evolved as we went along.

GT: I was really kind and understanding in the first draft. I was like “I don’t want to play this, it’s no fun.” From the first few tweaks I made, Simon caught onto the vibe, took that and ran with it.

Did you struggle to keep a straight face at times? AL: Yes, especially the scenes with all four of us, when David and Michael start improvising.

GT: I was just drunk, so I have no recollection.

AL: Scenes with all four of us were normally filmed in the evening, because that’s when we could be child-free. Usually there was alcohol involved, which is a lot more fun.

GT: There’s a long scene in series two where we’re having a drink. During each take, we had to finish the glass. By the end, we were all properly gone. I was rewatching it yesterday and I was so pissed.

What else can you tell us about series two? GT: Everyone’s in limbo. Just as we think things are getting back to normal, we have to take three steps back again. Everyone’s dealing with that differently, shall we say.

AL: In series one, we were all in the same situation. By series two, we’re at different stages and in different emotional places.

GT: Hollywood comes calling, but things are never as simple as they seem.

There were some surprise big-name cameos in series one, with Samuel L Jackson and Dame Judi Dench suddenly Zooming in. Who can we expect this time around? AL: We can’t name names, but they’re very exciting.

GT: Because series one did so well, and there’s such goodwill towards the show, we’ve managed to get some extraordinary people involved. This show came from playing around just to pass the time in lockdown. It felt like a GCSE end-of-term project. So suddenly, when someone says: “Samuel L Jackson’s in”, it’s like: “What the fuck’s just happened?”

AL: It took things to the next level, which was a bit scary.

GT: It suddenly felt like: “Some people might actually watch this.”

How are David and Michael’s hair and beard situations this time? AL: We were in a toyshop the other day and Lyra walked up to these Harry Potter figurines, pointed at Hagrid and said: “Daddy!” So that explains where we’re at. After eight months of lockdown, it was quite full-on.

GT: David had a bob at one point. Turns out he’s got annoyingly excellent hair. Quite jealous. He’s also grown a slightly unpleasant moustache.

Is David still wearing his stinky hoodie? GT: I bought him that as a gift. It’s actually Paul Smith loungewear. In lockdown, he was living in it. It’s pretty classy, but he does manage to make it look quite shit.

---

Omg the mug’s origins :D

‘GT: Also, always have a good mug on the go [raises her cuppa to the camera and it’s a Michael Sheen mug]. Someone pranked David on the job he’s shooting at the moment by putting a Michael Sheen mug in his trailer. He brought it home and now I use it every morning. I’m magically drawn to drinking out of Michael. ‘

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream V // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen-year-old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to wait confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, heartbreak, fluff, talk of death and fluff.

Words: 4.4k

A/N: We’ve come to the end of the Distant Dream mini-series. I truly enjoyed writing this with my whole heart. @merceret I told you I’d use Lucy’s Cordial somewhere in the series. All parts are located in the linked masterlist.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The massive changes between the ’90s and 2021 slowly but surely started no longer seemed startling as it had been at first. Carlos had helped you assimilate to homeschooling once he’d admitted he knew about the boys. Ray was still kept in the dark. 

2020 ended on a high note. Mostly. With the years in Narnia providing you with the knowledge you flew through schooling. Then you took a job as a waitress at a coffee shop, one similar to the shop the band performed in. The downside to the end of the year was for the band.

Despite performing at the Orpheum, the band hadn’t received as much traction as Luke had desired. They were a step closer to the dream but not as far as the entire band had wished. During Julie’s Christmas break, Luke had overworked the band with little breaks.

“Hide me.” Julie hissed from behind the counter of Ancient Grounds. The Puerto Rican musician escaped the studio to have lunch with you.

Unfortunately, Julie failed to see that without the entire band together, Luke would go to what makes him just as happy. You. That’s precisely what happened as Luke walked in through the entrance of the coffee shop.

“He’s still pushing more practice?” You asked, stacking the clean mugs on the shelf with complete focus. How odd it is to go from being Queen to working in a city as a waitress.

“I love him like a brother, but I feel like my fingers are gonna fall off from playing the piano constantly.” Julie sighed, sliding down the counter to sit on the floor hidden from the approaching guitarist and from your manager.

“Hey!” Luke grinned once his hands fell on the counter to lean over on the balls of his feet. His lips pressed against your right cheek before he fell back onto his feet.

Not a single soul in the half-full Ancient Grounds batted an eye to your awkward stance when Luke kissed you. Not since the boys had become tangible and visible to the general public when they wanted. 

“Look to decide to grace me with his presence.” You teased. Your foot nudged Julie in her thigh to urge her to crawl to the end of the counter.

“I have no clue where Julie is. Reggie dipped to join Ray in his errands, and Alex is somewhere.” Luke shrugged, stepping aside when an older gentleman dropped a tip in the jar before leaving.

“Pick a number.” You told the male with one of your dimples on display.

“Eleven,” Luke responded, bouncing on the balls of his feet at the regular game you played together.

Each visit, you’d split a dessert from the menu with Luke along with his favourite mug of tea and your drink of choice; even he knew he didn’t need caffeine with his energy. That was Luke’s favourite thing of being brought half alive from the golden glow they’d received. You were sure Reggie had cried upon eating your Tia’s best recipe.

“Nanaimo Bar Cheesecake. A limited-edition from our Worldwide Treat menu. It’s Canada’s month.” 

Luke followed to the counter’s end, where the sweets were kept on a glass viewing shelf. With careful movements, you slid a perfect triangle of the cheesecake onto a beautiful plate. The half-ghost retrieved it to your favourite spot in the garden patio. Julie used the time to sneak out the door with Luke’s back to her.

“What is a Nanaimo Bar?” Luke questioned upon you joining him at the iron-wrought table. One teacup accompanied by a teapot with Luke’s tea and a mug of your drink on an emerald tray.

“It’s a no-bake dessert. The base is a chocolate graham cracker and coconut base with the middle layer a cream filling. The top layer is a thin layer of semi-sweet chocolate.” 

Luken nodded, “Ancient Grounds loves cheesecakes.”

“Addie adores inventing new versions of cheesecake. Her best is the Creamsicle Cheesecake during the summer. A staple on the menu.” You responded with a twinkle in your eye. You may not look like the Queen you once were, but you were just as invested in learning about people as you’d done with the Narnians.

“What’s your favourite dessert?” Luke questioned.

“I’m pretty partial to the chocolate cookies Addie makes.” You grinned, leaning closer to the male across from you. You hesitated in continuing, “In Narnia, the pastry chef Cair Paravel employed always had these gorgeous desserts with Edmund in mind. Turkish Delights with a secret ingredient.”

Luke’s smile grew as you talked about the other home you had. A place you rarely spoke about now. You hadn’t even returned to the basement to see the wardrobe like you had before.

“I wish I could have seen Cair Paravel. It always sounds so magical when you talk about it.” Luke’s tone was wistful paired with the twinkle of his hazel eyes.

“It’s a breathtaking place. Everything is lively in Narnia, and after the Witch was defeated, we ruled peacefully for the most part.” Your e/c eyes unfocused on your surroundings to recall all the wonderful times spent in Narnia.

The times you shared a table with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver in their home over the years snacking on the homemade jams. To the times you listened to Mr. Tumnus playing everchanging lullabies on his flute. Even walking the beaches with Lucy in hopes of catching sight of Aslan again. Of gossiping with Susan over the many suitors that came for her hand.

“If you could do it all over again knowing the outcome, would you still do it?” Luke questioned with a tilt of his head. He’d shed the flannel jacket as the sun rose higher in the sky.

You nodded, “Absolutely. The Pevensies were some of the greatest friends one could ever hope to have.”

As usual, Peter wasn’t spoken of in light of the ache that resonated in your heart and the awkwardness Luke felt. A poor choice of avoiding your once husband instead of communicating on the topic.

“Have you ever thought of trying to find them?”

“No point. Peter would be ninety-seven now as the oldest, and Lucy would be eighty-nine. If I recall, it was 1940 for them when we went to Narnia. It’s possible Peter may have joined the war in ’42 when he was eighteen, so who knows if he lived.” Luke was surprised by the nonchalant reaction to the potentially grim outlook on your former in-laws.

However, Luke knew the truth, that you greatly missed the four people who became family during your disappearance. You could fool Julie and Reggie, but you could never fool Alex or Luke no matter how much you tried.

“I’ll see you at home? My break ended.” You swiftly cut off any more talking of your former life. Luke merely watched as you stacked the dirty dishes, only leaving Luke’s cup and teapot.

“I should get back. Julie’s most likely back in the garage from sneaking back.” Luke’s hand pushed through his messy curtain of brunette hair. His words revealing that he’d known Julie had been in Ancient Grounds the entire time.

“How’d-”

“When she sits on the floor, she taps the heel of her shoe on the floor. Same rhythm.” Luke smirked as he chugged the last of the tea, “Don’t tell her. I like when she fights a smug smile with that certain light in her eyes.”

The brotherly role Luke had taken on with the Molina girl was heartwarming, to say the least. Sometimes Julie would begrudgingly ask for advice about her feelings for Nick to Luke’s amusement. He adored being able to tease her.

“I’ll see you later.” 

The boy dropped the correct change for the tea on his way out the door into the bright sunlight. Like clockwork, he’d turn into the alley to become intangible to poof back to the studio. 

The rest of the day passed by like a breeze in the coffee shop with the late lunch rush and then the dinner rush the busiest time. Jess gave you a ride home in her truck as usual with a promise of a cupcake of Julie’s as payment.

“Did you see him?” 

The sudden voice startled you so much your hand couldn’t help but grasp at empty air by your side. Alex screeched as you swung to face him on the Molina driveway.

“Alex! Good Aslan, you startled me.”

“...were you reaching for a sword?” Alex questioned, appalled by your reaction. Your e/c eyes rolled in response.

“Isn’t the saying old habits die hard?” You prodded the baby blue of Alex’s long sleeve shirt. One of the shirts you’d often stolen from him, “And no. I didn’t see Willie.”

Your heart clenched as soon as Alex’s shoulders dropped in defeat once more at the absence of the skater. It had been months now with little sightings of the skater you had yet to meet. The boys kept your presence on the down-low to avoid Caleb’s interest.

“I hope he’s okay,” Alex muttered under his breath. The elder Mercer began gnawing his lower lip in worry.

Gently you interlaced your hand with his hand, his deft fingers playing with the braided bracelets on your wrist. The bracelets had been a Christmas gift from Julie and Flynn with the colours of the sunrise. It grounded Alex more often than not.

“You told me the Club travels around the world. Maybe Caleb’s not in America; maybe his ego needs to recover from his loss.” You shrugged, tugging the teenager into the house. Ray barely waved from his work computer.

Ray Molina had welcomed Alex, Reggie and Luke into the family when he met them in person the day after the Orpheum performance. He’d accepted that Alex was your older brother and had been in Switzerland for boarding school. He understood that Luke and Reggie came as a package deal with Alex, so the boys had worked to clean out the basement.

A few visits to second-hand doors brought furniture for the basement renovated into the boys’ shared suite. Alex still spent most nights in your room; he still feared you'd disappear from his life again.

“I hope you’re right.” Alex muttered in false hope that something would go his way for once, “Oh! The band received an invitation to some underground music festival in England during spring break. We’re hoping to convince Ray and Julie’s aunt to let us go.”

And you could see the band practices would be growing for that breakthrough with the band. And you were correct in your guess merely hours after going to sleep.

At five in the damn morning, Luke burst into your attic bedroom to drag your less than enthusiastic brother from his sleep. You bet your ass you hit the teen in the face with your pillow, which meant you had to crawl out of bed to retrieve the pillow.

“Asshole!” Alex exclaimed as Luke roughly poofed both of them to the studio. Julie swaying sleepily in her sweater and pyjama pants, waiting for the two.

Spring Break 2021 (March 26-April 2)

The youngest member of the tourists proudly displayed her smile, catching sight of the bed and breakfast in the English countryside. Julie had been floored when Ray had given his permission to the foreign festival. 

Ray couldn’t hide his excitement for the band, plus all-expense paid, receiving the invite via a relatively small record company. 

“First birthday back together,” Luke spoke from your side. Hands intertwined together in the cool wind of England. His arms were covered by his flannel coat in the unfavourable weather of the day.

You hummed, “Never thought I’d be celebrating my seventeenth birthday in England during 2021. Besides, I’ve already been seventeen.”

“I always knew I’d bring you to all the countries in the world.” Luke’s tone was matter of fact, staring at the stage being built under a woman’s guidance in her mid-30s.

The bed and breakfast had a lovely history your tour guide Martin had enthusiastically told on the train ride from the city. 

The man with spry greying hair pointed towards the old train station providing facts that interested most of the group. Luke’s arm tossed over your shoulder focused on the songbook, a new one, open in lap. Luke and you had slowly but surely evolved from shy brushes of skin to holding hands and then Luke’s arm over your shoulder. Chaste kisses on cheeks while you reassimilated into the dating world.

“In 1940, this train station deployed countless trains filled with evacuating children away from London during the Blitz. Filled with returning soldiers, mothers sending children to safety and children were torn from all they knew. Each child had a tag to identify them.” Martin explained intently, speaking to the group his organization had assigned him to.

“Where did they go?” Reggie curled into the travel blanket he’d bought specifically for the trip.

“Anywhere safe for them and where they could be cared for.”

“This route is one of many the evacuations used. The bed and breakfast we’re heading to holds a great history as well. It was once the Manor of Professor Digory Kirke during his life and passed down through generations throug-”

Martin’s story faded into the black abyss as sleep took you over by the soothing motion of the train and Luke’s warmth. Luke met the gaze of Alex. The two guys shared a sweet smile solely for the relaxed features of the younger Mercer.

“This is just another step in our journey for Julie and the Phantoms.” Your words warmed Luke Luke when he noticed you cemented your position in his life. You saw yourself in the future of Julie and the Phantoms as a faithful supporter and friend.

“Luke Patterson, correct? I’m Eva.” Your eyes widened, meeting the eyes that reminded you of someone. Just on the tip of your tongue, “My wife Diana will be a few minutes. We’re still getting the stage put together.”

“It’s so nice to meet you. How many people are you expecting?” Luke questioned the older woman. His mind snapped into business mode for the band.

“This is our fourth year putting on the festival at this location. This is the first year we added a wild card option for fans to vote on. Your band rocketed ahead of the other bands.” Eva explained, keeping her eyes on the woman you dubbed as Diana. The pure love in Eva’s eyes is a call to the yearning in your chest.

“I thought a recor-”

“Technically, yes, a record company flew you out. Diana started a small record label a few years back. Cair Oom Records. She’s the first person in both our families to step into a non-traditional career.” Eva explained to the now interesting young couple.

Luke was interested in the record label’s history, whereas you focused on the label’s name. Cair Oom. A call to your Narnia days you remembered. 

“Cair Oom?” You interrupted the conversation in pure curiosity. Your eyes drinking in the features of Eva, her freckles and brown eyes mirroring a person from your past.

“The label name?” Eva continued once you nodded in response, “It’s from a childhood story my family passed down. Diana was close to my great-aunt before we moved out here to run the bed and breakfast.”

“Of a dream of a dream. Spare Oom.” It was whispered in the breeze straight in your ear of a voice you vividly recalled—the disembodied voice with the same freckles as Eva but with chocolate brown hair instead of strawberry blonde.

“Y/N? You coming?” Luke’s concerned hazel eyes bore into your distant ones wandering the hills of the property. You hadn’t even noticed Eva leaving towards the Manor.

Your e/c eyes search for the owner of the youthful voice but come up empty. The only people you saw included your group with the odd workers setting up under Diana’s supervision.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Luke stepped right up in front of you, “You’ve been out of it since Eva mentioned the record label.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” You mumbled, following the woman up the path. Luke stared lost as you disappeared into the door. Eva entered.

The woman stood outside a door within the home, “I never knew what she meant. Not until I saw you Y/N.”

Your foot stumbled back when Eva turned with a soft smile you vividly recalled on a certain Pevensie. Eva unlocked the door to a room with only a picture hung on the wall.

“Narnia.” You breathed, stepping right up to the detailed painting of Cair Paravel. Your fingers tracing the beautiful frame holding it up.

“Correct. My Great-Aunt, in her adult life, adored painting in her past time. It was rare she told Narnian stories, but my mother loved them so much she told them to me as a child.

“Who’s your-”

“My name is Lucy Eva Baker. I was named after my other Great-Aunt, but I prefer going by Eva.” Eva’s words pulled a deep gasp from your throat. Tears building as the truth settled in the room.

Eva shared the same smile and brown eyes as Edmund Pevensie did, even the mature aura wrapped around her. The maturity Edmund had grown into during the fifteen years in Narnia. Without a shadow of a doubt, Eva Baker was the granddaughter of your former brother-in-law.

“Your-”

“Edmund’s granddaughter.” Eva finished with a sympathetic smile, “You featured heavily in each story. I always knew Narnia wasn’t merely a story.”

And then the conversation stuttered when you finally noticed Eva spoke mostly of learning of everything by her mom and Susan. Not a mention passed Edmund being her granddad. A piece of your heart broke, and it seemed the older woman saw it happen.

“W-what happened to…” You couldn’t even choke the question out in the room. Eva’s hand reached out to grasp yours in her own hand.

“I can’t tell you much as that reason that will become clear but in 1949 just shortly before my mom was born there was an accident. Grandpa Edmund and Peter were waiting for the train at the station. The train wrecked, killing the train occupants and many people in the station.” Eva was quick to catch you as a piercing grief-stricken scream exploded in the room.

In the Manor’s tea room, the band and Ray enjoyed a genuine tea time with Diana. Ray and Diana traded stories of their young sons while Reggie restrained himself to savour the food. English tea time begging for genuine manners.

Luke raised his cup to lips before it dropped to the saucer upon an exploding anguished wail from upstairs. Thankfully the cup didn’t break as the American guitarist sprung himself in the direction of the wails—Alex hot on his heels with a call to his friends.

Your screaming drowned out the furious stomps of feet racing in the halls of the Manor to the entrance of the room. Luke’s heart shattered at the pure anguish coating your broken features. Alex roughly pushed his way to tug you into his arms.

Alex’s large hand cupped the back of your head while he rocked you in his arms, “Shh. Let it out.”

“No!” You screamed into Alex’s shoulder. You couldn’t acknowledge Luke’s comforting hand on your shoulder, “N-no.”

“I got you. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” Alex murmured in your ear so softly you almost didn’t catch what he said. Luke dropped to his knees by your side. The three teens unaware as Eva excused herself for your privacy. Eva had watched her great-aunt Susan break every time she spoke of her late siblings.

Seconds passed or maybe years as it seemed to happen to you. But soon, you simply rested against Alex staring at Susan’s painting. Barely blinking in the room causing you suffering. You barely responded to anyone as you battled the grief. You faded in and out of daydreams as the bands performed. Days mixed together. Time didn’t exist to you. You were aware enough when Julie and Ray invited you to shop in London.

To everyone, including your surprise, you agreed. The three half ghosts joining in fear you’d shatter again. Eva and Diana held hands watching the car disappear in the distance carrying a group of musicians. An echo of Eva’s words replacing in the back of your mind.

“Three of five drink at high tide. Four of nine and five of nine stand apart by time. A drop of Valiant’s potion will begin the time once before frozen.” 

“Are they-”

“Yes.” Eva spoke before her wife could finish the sentence, “She’ll be returning to Narnia. Decades separating her from the Pevensie siblings.”

Eva was correct. At the station, the location was painful as it was Lucy, Peter and Edmund’s last place they’d been alive. Ray disappeared to use the restroom, leaving the five teenagers to wait for the adult.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, rubbing a spot on your arm with a grimace. Your eyes glaring at your tall older brother, “Don’t pinch me!”

Alex shook his head, “I didn’t pinch you!”

“Luke!” Reggie squealed, jumping away from the guitarist with a pout on his full lips. The bassist rubbing his stinging cheek, “These cheeks are reserved for my Grannie!”

Luke scoffed at his friend, “Why would I risk the chance of you biting off my finger Reginald?”

“We have bigger problems than whose pinching us! I’m losing my damn mind! First three himbos fall out of nowhere, then a girl trips out a magic wardrobe and now this!” Julie snapped, staring at their environment in the train station tunnel, “I need to be committed!”

You watched breathlessly as a strong gale storm literally tore pieces of the train and the walls of the station apart. Through the train windows, you watched as a bright blue sky increasingly grew. The colour is so clear and vivid in only one place you knew.

The train blew by. The wall behind you changed into stone—the floor into the sand.

“What the fuck?” Alex demanded, twirling around on the new scenery of a beach in what was supposed to be a train station. The poor male kept being thrown off-kilter since the alley in 1995.

You knew deep in your heart where you were. Especially when four people of different heights stood with their backs to you. One individual, the shortest, turns upon feeling eyes on her back. And at the same time, you spoke.

“Lucy!”

“Y/N!”

The two girls ran straight into each other’s arms sobbing in elation and relief at finally seeing each other after a long year apart. The seven additional people who joined the duo collapsed on the ground. Alex cleared his throat.

“Y/N? Are you going to intro-”

“That’s Queen Y/N.” Peter snapped towards the stranger with a pink sweater on. Peter could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen a man wear pink. 

“That’s my sister.” Alex snapped, standing at his full six-foot height, pinning a glare on the other teenager. Peter scoffed in response. His face faltering upon finding your hand encased in a male shorter than the blonde.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Peter knew this man was the unseen third person that filled every conversation and room between Peter and Y/N. Peter was very much aware that you weren’t in love with him. He lived with the knowledge for a decade, pretending it was he that you deeply loved. Seeing the person holding your heart hurt.

“This is my brother Alex Mercer and our friends Julie Molina, Reggie Peters and my...this is Luke Patterson.” You gestured to each of them; the Puerto Rican musician shell shocked. Julie now knew why that talking lion you spoke of sounded familiar. Narnia had seen one other visitor years before Julie was born.

Rose Molina’s bedtime stories for her children involved a lion named Aslan and a magical wardrobe made from a special tree. Julie recalled the feeling Narnia birthed if in the world as Rose described it. 

“Mercer as in...?” Edmund trailed off slowly.

“My horse. Yes. I guess subconsciously, I still remembered where I came from.”

“These are my friends Susan, Edmund, Lucy and...Peter.” You softly spoke of the eldest Pevensie. His blue eyes sadly meeting yours.

A fondness growing at the sight but a pain blossoming at the heartbreak in his features. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see Peter had put two and two together on who Luke was to you. And while Peter desired to fight for you, he knew it was a lost cause; time cruelly separated you outside the world of Narnia. You both deserved happiness, so with great pain, Peter let you go.

“C’mon!” Lucy shouted, racing out of the cave on the bright sunny beach. The rest hot on the heels of the youngest member of the conjoined group. As you all goofed around on the beach, you told the Pevensie family all about Julie and the boys.

“Welcome to Narnia, my love.” You murmured to the boy that held your heart in his gentle hands. Luke Patterson beamed. He finally got the girl of his dreams and visited the place you hold dear.

The fun aspect of being in Narnia with both of your family came to a halt when you discovered the ruins. Cair Paravel had become a pile of broken stone and sadness. Not a single Narnian in the distance nor the Beavers or Mr. Tumnus.

“What?”

Julie and the boys’ presence became static in the background while the former Narnia royalty pursued through the ruins. They found the chessboard and the gifts Father Christmas gave them during the Winter Revolution. 

Something clicked within Lucy as she almost robotically walked to each half-dead boy with her Cordial in hand. The room went silent as Lucy fed each phantom a drop of the medicinal potion. As soon as Alex closed his mouth, all three boys were enveloped in a blinding silver light.

And the true magic happened. For the first time in twenty-six years, three hearts began pumping blood. A previously frozen clock began beating to the sound of those hearts. The magic of Queen Lucy’s Cordial finished what Julie had started; the three formerly half head phantoms became living humans once more.

What a magical place the world of Narnia is.

(Above is the teacup and pot Luke uses in the Ancient Grounds coffee shop!)

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[rhaenyraisadyke]

It's been a year! Transcript: 8/3/21 Here is also a google doc of the transcript if that is easier to read!

*Starts out with happy birthday on a guitar playing*

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthdayyyy to meee, Happy Birthday to me

*Drinks a swig of alcohol*

Ah. Yeah it’s my birthday today, which um seems odd, it doesn't feel like i've been here that long… but I have. Cheers everyone uh. I realise I haven't really done much in a while.

I woke up this morning, rolled out of bed, put out this cake I made three months ago and uh, that's kind of been it, but yeah… I don’t think I’ve left this room in 80 days. About 80 days… How long is 80 days? I- I- that's a lot of months… that's been a long time… Also my vision just went black, I’ve been drinking a lot, um this is that possibly catching up with me um please return vision, I’d really like for it to be back, well I can hear things so at least i'm not deaf ya know? The lord has kept my hearing but I am blind, no um yep there we go.

I decided to get dressed up as well. I figured that would be nice, ya know? I’m pretty sure I was part of them back when I joined, so.. .I don't know if it felt like it made sense to dress up again. Um, fucking hell, I have not cleaned. *sighs* I’ll be honest, in the time I was gone, not very… not very much has happened, uh, it turns out you need customers to support a hotel, and I don’t know about you guys but I haven't seen one on this place for a pretty long while. So uh, basically what I’m saying is… the big jack manifold hasn't been going too hot, god, you don’t provide these guys with food for eighty days and they all go bones and evil.

LEAVE out you bard, you-

The point is, very little has been done here for quite awhile, and um I haven't been outside or seen anyone, and I- I didn't’ finish the pub. Um, you may be asking me, “but jack wasn't that the only thing you were working towards? I know but with the failure of the hotel, I kind of realised that again pubs also rely on customers and the very limited people on this server, as we can all see it really ah um, well it didn’t seem very fruitful. So um, we're kinda just here, living here rent free ever since we claimed this place… I actually don’t know who pays the rent.. Maybe Tommy still does um. I Don't know- anyway since I’ve been here for a year and I haven't really looked around in three months, I thought we would go and look around at everything that we once saw, you know?

I must admit the investment of the alcohol from the pub has been the only thing keeping-.. I shouldn't say that, let's not speak about that part. Yeah it turns out that this place, look I haven't been outside in eighty days and I think maybe since I’ve been here for a year I can go back and have a look around at everything. And um as I said I dressed up for the occasion, so um you know… lets see what's changed hmmm?

Anyway let's walk around shall we? Well this didn’t change, we still got mcpuffys here. Hehe, no one noticed my balls sign hehe, no one noticed, I forgot about this, no one noticed I replaced whatever the original one was with balls in hope they wouldn't notice and they didn't. Ahh that's good, I like that. Anyway, there's the duck and Ponk’s tower that seem pretty much the same.

This looks different, this was a hole.. Who are you? Alright? You know we are the only two people on the server right now? (talking to shroud) This basically means we gotta become friends. So.. tell me about yourself.. Sir? Madam? Shroud, alright. Oh Ohhh I stole some of these! Did I ever give them back? Whoops, oh well. Ahh, it's been quiet without him ya know tommy. I’ll be honest, theres been very little to do, with him gone, um, the fuck did ninjas house go? Why does it look like a very small mcdonalds?

Right, this tower, this seems pretty much the same. Does the sewer still exist? Hm oh wait does it not? What ohh no what happened to the sewers? Aw, there was a whole sewer system out there one time and oh wow. Why is there no longer a sewer there? Wait oH OH it is down here!

One of the first things I remember is me tommy and tubbo and quackity, before he even joined and was still in juvy we, hehe, we did a little heist on everyone and we stole the poo machines and stole everything and then we had a little room, and it was here and we stole the phantom membranes. It was a good time, it was a good time, I liked that and then ah there had only been one war. It's crazy to think there's been more, I thought we’d figure it out the first time, you know? It was fun. And we were called the beatles. Either way yeah.

Why the fuck is half of this place beatroots? Why are half of these beetroots and the other half potatoes? Why is it all farm?? Why? Why is it beats? Wait where did gay target go? Why is there just a beacon here? At least there's huts pizza. Employee of the first two days, of dunderbeatlin… the fuck is dunderbeatlin? What's this? Why are there new things? I know it's been eighty days but why?

This is the L’manburg museum, bearing in mind I'm dressed like this I should go see it.

Oh! It's like different things. This is like the community house, okay that's cool and that's the egg.. This is a replica it won't hurt you… oh it doesn't it won't actually hurt you. I guess they remade that shit. What even happened with that thing? I remember it tried to possess me once and then I bathed in the holy water and I was good again. Oh wow it's like a map of the whole server and there's egg gunk. And then and then and then here.. Where am I? Oh… is that lmanburg? Where is lmanburg? Oh wait oh yeah yeah wait I forgot…. Oh…. yeah….. Um….heh yeah….

OH its the lmanburg walls! I remember tearing them down and rebuilding them a lot and the hotdog van! Does it have the declaration in it? No it doesn't… It is blue. Ohhh…… I joined the day after this (the final control room) God, it's been a whole year since then… What's this? Wait… I feel like there's missing lines here. I don’t know if sorry, you know? Oh, look here, oh it just says i'm sorry. (erets apology book) I’m not all that sure that sorry quite cuts that. What's this? Oh this looks unfinished. Oh here's a map of old lmanburg! OH that's ze house! Before… I burnt it down and decided I wasn't gonna have manifold land anymore.. I miss that, I miss lmanburg.

It was a lot easier to dream when we were friends. Everyone feels so distant now but maybe that's because I haven't seen them, maybe that didn't help I mean no one came to say hi to me. Oh, oh, my main takeaway was that, wait it's not glass anymore, it's like a cavern, it was glass the last time I was there, it's changed since I was here to remember what happened… Why does it look like this? Hmm I don't know. Ah this was my cove, and it was untouched until I burnt it down fuck you.

Oh and theres my secret base that I never finished, FUCK YOU - fuck I hate him, anyway… oh there's the big obsidian bridge, oh isn't this where tommy was exiled? Over this way? I think… That means it was somewhere along here that… wait no it was right here… right? We turned on these stairs, stepped down, and pretty sure it was right here… he dug this.. I don’t think I want to visit this place. I want to go back, this isn't really where I want to be.

Anyway um, I wonder if Snowchester has changed. Lets go visit, okay um, that's weird that's freshly planted. Let's head over to Snowchester its that way. Since when was Tubbos' house back? Didn’t Tommy burnt it down? I swear this got burnt down.. I remember the ruins of it, there was a nether tree farm then in it… anyway…. Let's go check out fundys place. I haven't seen him in FOREVER. The last time I saw him was the last war… the day… the last war… WHY ARE THERE BIG MUSEUM THINGS EVERYWHERE??

Where's fundys house? I built it. I remember building it as a prank and then he liked it and lived in it.. Where's my tower? It was here next to the fox, his little fox hole… my towers were gone, it was definitely here, it was a million percent here and it was right next to it. It was somewhere there was a button it had a button. There was a big sign made out of obsidian…

I don’t know if you can tell, but I’ve been pretty purposeless for the past eight days… what the fuck? That's a HOLE. That's a big ass hole! That wasn't always there?! When did a hole show up?? There's a HOLE in my hotel!! I'm trying not to lose my cool and you know when I go the day that I joined, and the first person that greeted me was tommyinnit and still, I wish, I just wish someone logged in and said “hey jack happy one year” and I try to build them a pub and one of these *drinks a swig of alcohol* I mean at least..

Every time….. Everything here and how come it's all the things I care about that get blown up? Lmanburg… Manifold Land- Well I did manifold land but I was pissed off - Everything I care about on this server gets blown up, or destroyed or taken advantage of or.. Betrays me, that happens a lot. I’m not sure if I wanna be here anymore.

I’m not sure if I want to have anything to do with this… maybe that's it. Maybe that's it. What does this place bring? What does this place bring? Ever since I have been part of the “Dream SMP” Things are given to me that are eventually taken or destroyed, friends leave, DEATH, not everyone has died on the server and come back to life admittedly, I have now but the point is, I AM VERY DEFINITE I DON'T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS SERVER ANYMORE… Alright? Almost everyone that has promised me something has turned their back. Almost everyone. The last thing anyone said to me was “Ah when las nevadas comes about, we will have a deal jack.. I’ll make it big” Yeahh.. .he really brought a lot of business. How's Las Nevadas doing?? Because when I HEARD it would be done and bring me customers, surely not another person would give me false hope.

Tubbos was the only one I can trust, Tubbo and Niki. I know Niki has become an anarchist or whatever but at least she's happy, and Tubbo was always kind.

I think Las Nevadas is somewhere over here. Let's go look at how “done it is” and how ready for business they are… Looking PRETTY finished for me. Big sign, big building, nice roads. Looking pretty… done. Pretty ready for a business deal. Isn't that a shocker… Isn't it weird yet again that someone promised me something and it fell through again?

So FUCK IT I don’t wana see Snowchester, I dont want to see anything, My WHOLE TIME on this server has been doing things for other people and fighting peoples wars, right? Keeping up hotels and pubs for people to stay, trying to kill people at worst that wasnt me and fighting for them. I haven't done anything for myself. ANYTHING AT ALL. And I said the hotel was for me and look where it got me- in a room for 80 days and a giant bottle of cider I have yet to finish- so fuck it! I’m not dealing with anyone else anymore. The “DREAM SMP” I’m gonna go out and start my own thing. I’m gonna call it the “Dream SSP” survival single player because I’m not dealing with anyone else anymore. Alright?

The day Tommy died, I said I was done with manifold land because the only thing it ever stood for was trying to get rid of him, and although it was also about getting back at him, it was about other people, but this time, I have something new in mind, something completely different…

NEW Manifold land will not cater to anyone else, not fight for anyone else, to I don’t know be anything for anyone else really. New Manifold land will stick very strictly to the name and persist of purely Jack Manifold, and I might steal Godzilla back from Tubbo (his arctic fox). Because as much as I said Niki was kind and Tubbo was kind, where they been the past 80 days? No one came to the hotel. No one came looking for me to which point, I say I’m gonna find myself my own little place. I’m just gonna live. I’m gonna do what I want, the only thing is, I need to find an area of my own, we need to travel. So let's get moving hmm?

[ezwhump]

Let the Cat Out of the Bag - pet whump, pet-sitting, pampered pet, introduction of characters 

“Explain it to me again.”

“Aw, fuck off, Farhan.”

“No, seriously!” Farhan spat a seed shell into the solo cup and  took another swig of his beer. “This woman puts an ad in the fucking paper, for christ’s sake, asking for someone to what? Look after her kitty cat?”

He buckled over, eyes creasing, and barked out a laugh. 

“No you got that exactly right, man,” Gregor let his mouthful of warm beer dribble back into the bottle and set it down on the table. “She’s got some sorta terminal illness, says she won’t be home enough to look after it, yeah? That’s where I come in.” 

Farhan snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah but she could just sell it though. Get some dough before she croaks.” He leaned over and snatched the paper off the table. “Pet-sitting. Fucking hell. I can loan you the money, you know.” 

When Farhan got serious he got fancy, started picking up his ‘t’s, shortening his vowels. Offering money. It made Gregor raise his hackles. 

“When you think about it, it's not a bad gig. I get to fuck around in some OAP’s house all day and I get paid for it. If I do a decent enough job maybe I get in on the will.”

Farhan shook his head, flipping to the sports section of the paper. “You’re a fuckin’ vulture, man.”

Gregor smiled to himself and drank his warm beer anyway. Farhan didn’t really understand, it didn’t matter what the job was, it mattered what the pay was. And he’d do pretty much anything at this point (except become Farhan’s charity case), so long as food got put on the table and the bills were paid, even looking after some geriatric’s pet. 

Even if he was allergic to cats. 

--

The car pulled up a few streets away from the old lady’s, and Gregor opened the passenger door. 

Farhan leaned over and rolled down the window. “You got your cell?”

Gregor patted his jean’s back pocket. 

“Right, good. Wallet, keys?”

“Fuck off, Farhan.” Gregor was getting irate, jumping on the spot with his hands in his front pockets. It was too fucking cold outside for chit-chat, he wanted to get into the warm house and start eating. 

Farhan laughed and cranked up the window with a “right, right”. 

The house was in a cul-de-sac of luxury townhomes, redbrick with intricate railings and a courtyard with a fountain. Gregor was suddenly very aware of his ratty sneakers and DIY buzzcut. He spat into the bushes and rang the doorbell, stopping short of shouting up to the closest window. It seemed like the sort of place where people would stop and stare if you spoke too loudly, and god forbid he caused a kerfuffle and the police were called. 

He patted his pocket for his dab pen and rolled it between his thumb and finger while he waited to be buzzed in. 

“Katz residence.” 

Gregor jumped and turned to the intercom speaker on the side of the doorway. He pressed the little purple button. 

“Uh, hi. It's Gregor. Enache. I’m here for the pet-sitting gi- job.” 

He waited for a moment, wind whipping inside his jacket and making him shudder. Then the intercom buzzed and he heard a lock click, so he took his cue and went inside. 

After processing the excessive grandeur of the lobby, Gregor took the elevator up to the top floor. All the hallways were cream with soft white lights in sconces and glittering from chandeliers. The floors were marble, and Gregor almost laughed when his soles squeaked and tracked dirt if he scraped them hard enough. 

There was a soft tinkling music coming from somewhere and all the doors were painted a deep plum colour with gold handles. The whole place smelled like sweet perfume. Part of Gregor wanted to break everything just to check if it was real (especially the little statues on the antique tables), part of him wanted this whole place to be preserved in resin so he could stare at it forever, but he mostly just wanted to see if there were price listings for any of it. The pawn potential made him lightheaded. 

“She’s gonna pay you,” he reminded himself, stopping at door 19 and rapping the golden knocker. It was shaped like a cat. 

  A boy answered the door. Well, not really a boy, though he seemed younger. He looked around Gregor’s age, 22 or so, but they were leagues apart. 

He had pearl-blonde hair that stopped at the base of his throat and his lanky frame was a little taller than Gregor. He was wearing a long-sleeve shirt and slacks made out of the same muslin fabric, but his feet were bare and clean. 

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Enache.” A woman’s voice called out from the guy who stepped aside silently to let Gregor in. 

Salma Katz was sitting on a white lounge sofa in a skirt and blouse, her legs crossed at the ankles. She wasn’t geriatric by any stretch of the imagination but she did have an air of vulnerability around her, like something was wrong and she was using every vice at her disposal to hide it. It showed in the way she picked at her nails or kept tucking back her blonde bob. 

“Hi.” Gregor stood dumbly in the entryway, eyes darting to all of the fanciful objects littered about the place. Little markings of money, of privilege. He felt sort of trapped. “Um, so where is the little guy?”

Salma was blinking sluggishly, and Gregor couldn’t help but compare it to when his mom had gotten hold of Farhan’s Vicodin after his dental surgery last month. Hazy, drugged up. It was probably painkillers or something. 

“There are a few things I should go over before I leave, but just in case there’s a list on the refrigerator.” She gestured for Gregor to sit and he did, slumping into the love-seat across from her, a glass coffee table between them with a small vase of peach roses in the middle of it. 

“I’m very invested in the comfort and safety of my pet while I’m enjoying treatment, and thus very meticulous. . . about who watches him.” The boy had taken a seat on the floor in front of her lounge chair, and Gregor had to drag his eyes back to Salma. 

“Right. Well, I mean, why put it in the paper then? Any dickwad off the street could come in.” A humoured smile lit up her face, and Gregor caught himself. “Uh, with all due respect, ma’am.”

Salma laughed, an airy, unbothered sound. “Well, just prove to me that I made the correct choice young man, and we won’t have a problem.” Her eyes trailed Gregor up and down and he tried not to squirm, setting his jaw and meeting her eyes. They glinted. “Now, Leander has a particular diet which I included on the list. I presume you can cook?”

Gregor nodded. He’d had to learn a long time ago. 

“Wonderful. Taking him outside the apartment is discouraged, however we do have a balcony if you’ll be needing to smoke or he needs fresh air. He takes a bath most nights, and you’ll know what to wash him with. Oh, and of course if you need anything from him all you need to do is ask.” 

“It’s trained?” Gregor felt his eyes widen, impressed. Cat’s weren’t usually trained, but he should’ve figured given the context of the whole situation. 

“Indeed he is. Now, I wouldn’t want him to get lonely, either. He has his own room but he does enjoy company. Would you be available to watch him five days a week?”

Gregor thought for a moment and nodded. He’d cover his bases, pay his dues, on the weekend. And besides, pets didn’t really require all that much effort. 

“Perfect. Does 7-12 feel appropriate? Of course we’d provide you with adequate food, a bed, transport, and whatever else you require to perform your duties.” She was talking slowly, like she was trying to coerce a wild animal into a cage, but Gregor wasn’t going to complain. Living in a place like this all day, free food, a fucking car, and all he had to do was refill a food bowl and wrestle it into a bath sometimes? He felt like he’d stumbled upon a get-out-of-jail-free card. 

“Sure, no problem.”

Salma smiled again and smoothed her hand along the boy’s hair, standing up and gesturing for Gregor to do so as well. Gregor tried to keep the incredulity from showing on his face. 

She reached out and took Gregor’s hand, clasping it briefly and then turning back to the boy. Gregor looked around again for a tabby, a persian. A fucking tiger. 

Salma ushered the boy forward, and he stood graceful and silent in front of Gregor, avoiding eye contact. 

“Mr. Enache, this is Leander. My pet.”

--- 

I’m taking a short break from Russ & Lennon, but hopefully you guys will enjoy reading about Gregor & Leander as much as I enjoy writing them :) I’m starting up a new tag list for these two so if you’d like to be included pls just let me know! <3 - ez 

--

tag list: __ 

[tuanhood]

hypnotic | part one

paring: vampire!im jaebeom x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut (part two), vampire au

warnings: language, cringey vampire cliches i’m sure

word count: 9,800+

summary: jaebeom has been waiting 200 years to find his mate - the one who can break his trance and isn’t affected by his hypnotic abilities. You don’t seem to be that person, but he just can’t seem to get you out of his mind… why? 

a/n: hello guys! so i originally had this planned to post tomorrow (the 30th) but it was so long i decided to split it up and post one part today and the other part on the 31st! This first part is mostly Jaebeom and not a lot of Y/N but SO BE IT. This is also my first time writing in the genre of vampire/fantasy loL so please forgive me because it’ll probably be cringe and not make sense. if that’s the case lol drop me a message!! also vampire jaebeom was requested FOREVER ago. so here it is practically 3 decades later. and i attempted to make a banner. if someone can make me a better one it’s v much WELCOME.

part two

Knock Knock Knock 

He wished he could just pretend like he was asleep. He wished he could use that as an excuse to not answer the door, but based on the very strong feeling he was getting from who was behind it – that wouldn’t work. 

“I know you’re in there! Just answer the damn door Jaebeom!”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes, leave it to Bambam to be at his front door before the day even had a chance to truly begin. Before letting him in, he went through all the possible things or excuses he could use to get out of whatever his younger friend had in mind.

“Is your vintage YSL here or is it still at the dry cleaners?” Bambam asked, pushing past Jaebeom as soon as he has the door partway open.

Gruffly, Jaebeom turned back into his apartment to Bambam already halfway to his bedroom – no doubt to look through his closet, “What are you doing here Bam?” 

“What does it look like? I’m here for the vintage YSL asshole!” 

He’s learned by now that it’s better to let him do his thing – whatever that may mean. So instead of following Bambam, he plopped down onto the same couch he’s had for nearly 15 years. “You know when I first bought that shirt it wasn’t considered vintage!”

Jaebeom waited for a response, but instead, he was met with silence. After a few moments – many of them thinking about how maybe it was time to replace the couch – he felt his “vintage” YSL button-down hit him in the face. 

He groaned; the impact was surely going to create wrinkles in the material he tried to keep in pristine condition. It was ironic since he was often heard making fun of how much Bambam cared about clothes, but Jaebeom liked to keep his things nice. “Bam I just got it back from getting cleaned a couple of days ago.”

“Put it on.” 

The tone of his friend’s voice seemed rather impatient. If he had closed his eyes, Jaebeom would have thought he was talking to Jinyoung or even himself. 

“Why do I need to put it on? It’s 8 in the morning; where are we going?”

“Um excuse me? Did you forget what day it was? Now come on, we’re meeting Jinyoung at that new café down the street in fifteen.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to picture the café on the mental map he keeps in his mind, “the one that used to be a video store in the 90s?”

Bambam made his way into the living room, picking up a few glasses that rested on the coffee table Jaebeom’s feet were on top of, and marched over to the small kitchen. Jaebeom has lived in this apartment more years than he’d like to admit, especially because enough time had passed that the neighbors he had were clearly aging and he just stayed 26. The thought of moving somewhere new often enters his mind, but with this place, he just can’t bring it in himself to go quite yet. It’s almost as though something is tying him to this city, this place – like he’s waiting for something.

“Yes, and a speakeasy in the 20s both of which are not important right now because we live in the 21st century Jaebeom. Now come on, Jinyoung’s waiting – that asshole is always early.” 

He heard Bambam mumble something along the lines of known him 100 years, would it kill him to just be on time for once, as he furiously dropped the glasses on the kitchen counter.

“Do I have to go?” 

Bambam paused his motions of putting Jaebeom’s dirty dishes into the sink to stare the older vampire down, “Jaebeom you only turn 200 once.” 

He scoffed in response, “Jesus don’t remind me.”

“We have to make a whole day of it! So please just put the shirt on, because I want you looking presentable,” he stopped in the middle of his sentence, suddenly wiggling his eyebrows, “you never know what could happen.” The final word is drawn out, almost sing-song like and it drives Jaebeom up the wall because he knows exactly what Bambam is referencing.

For Jaebeom and those like Jaebeom, they didn’t consider the day they were born as their birthday, but instead as the day they turned. There was no point in celebrating their birth anymore as they were no longer alive. However, at this point after 200 birthdays, – alive and dead combined - Jaebeom was beginning to believe that there was no point to those either. He always knew being immortal was a curse but day by day that idea was only solidifying itself in his mind.  

Jaebeom let out a gruff breath which only made Bambam look up from the fork he was scrubbing, “Bam I don’t know what you think is going to happen today… but it certainly isn’t that.” 

The “that” he was referencing was one of the main factors that as of late had made him feel like living forever was indeed a waste. It was the thing that was supposed to make him feel “complete.” According to old texts and traditional vampire folklore, he was now walking around half full, but once he met his mate, he would become whole. At first, he didn’t believe the tale. He had gotten by so far without a mate that the idea of him not being complete made him laugh. But watching both Bambam and Jinyoung find their mates – Bambam 70 years ago and Jinyoung 16 years ago – made him finally acknowledge and reflect on the piece of himself he was missing. 

And fuck he was lonely. 

Bambam chuckled at him as if being in on his own personal joke. His friend was strange like that sometimes, “just put the shirt on Jaebeom.” 

By the time he’s had the shirt on and Bambam has somehow convinced him to let him wear his Rolex he got as a gift from his friend Jackson in 1920, Jaebeom feels mentally prepared to leave the house and embark on this dreadful day. The reminder that he has now been around for 200 years and still is not whole.

“Finally,” Jinyoung sighed when Jaebeom and Bambam finally reached the café down the street, “I’ve been waiting 20 minutes.” 

A disgruntled Bambam checks his watch, “well if you don’t want to wait every single time, don’t be so fucking early,” he promptly turned to Jaebeom to share his grief regarding their friend, “you think he would learn after all this time.” 

“Let’s just go order,” Jaebeom shrugged, not caring to be in another disagreement between his longer than life friends.

“Be honest you’re early on purpose just so it gives you something to complain about and a reason to make us feel bad!” 

Jinyoung ignored Bambam’s theory, replying to the oldest, “no need. I already ordered for the three of us. It’s a special day, the birthday boy doesn’t need to pay,” he glanced at Bambam, “you on the other hand…” 

The two new arrivals, flop down into the sofa chairs on either side of Jinyoung, along of them situated to make a half-circle in front of a low coffee table. The three of them had somehow stuck into this… pattern. Years of friendship that contained years of Bambam/Jinyoung squabbles that Jaebeom would often have to mediate. Patterns were nice, but sometimes they would get old – especially after so long. 

As the two of them argue over whether or not Bambam should pay Jinyoung back for a simple iced Americano because Bam swears he got the drinks the last two times, Jaebeom looks over to the counter where the baristas work on – no doubt – the plethora of orders they have. The factor of the café being new has certainly been the cause of the popularity and amount of people in the shop. He can’t help but feel bad for the individuals working on the drinks – three years ago he had been one of them for roughly 18 months and knew that it wasn’t as easy as it appeared to be. 

In retrospect, Jaebeom didn’t have to work. He had so much time to learn and understand what it meant to be financially responsible. Not only that, but he’s literally had hundreds of years to save. Plus, his early investments in companies ended up landing him some pretty substantial and valuable shares. Jaebeom was sitting on quite the pretty penny. 

“Wow your portfolio is remarkable… I’ve never seen one like it,” his latest financial advisor had said to him in complete awe, “I mean an early investor in Amazon? Apple? Mastercard?” 

Jaebeom had laughed nervously, “What can I say? My grandpa had good intuition, I guess.” 

Money aside, he had wanted something to do with his time – hence his barista job. It was fun, but like most things, Jaebeom just grew tired of it and as he watched the girl working the espresso machine let out an exhausted breath, he realized that he wasn’t missing it. 

Jaebeom has become good at studying people. It was something he still wasn’t sure of whether it was a vampire thing or just something he had picked up over time. Watching the girl at the machine, her hair is in a low bun, a few strands falling in front of her face. It’s clear with the way the hair tie is situated, that the hairstyle was once a bit neater, tighter, and sat at the middle or even top of her head. However, the now fallen placement and slight disarray signal how busy she’s been working and how fried she must be feeling. 

He looks to the string bracelet on her wrist, visible from far away enough for Jaebeom to conclude that she must have someone in her life deemed important to wear one of those “friendship” bracelets. He never saw the point, but humans were strange creatures, despite him once being one. 

Jaebeom’s breath hitches when he catches sight of the delicately drawn tattoo on her wrist near the bracelet. It’s of lavender and it immediately reminds him of his mother who had loved exploring the lavender field that had been near his home when he was a child. Despite all the time that has passed since he lost his mother, the pain that aches inside of Jaebeom when he thinks of her isn’t any less. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the call at the coffee bar, “Order for Jinyoung.” 

The call comes from the overworked girl he had been studying and Jaebeom wants more than anything to stand up and retrieve their orders. He finds a weird want to hear what her laugh sounds like. Maybe he could say something or strike up a conversation that would-

“What are you doing?” It takes Jaebeom a moment to notice that he has partially stood up from his chair as if he’s about to go somewhere. Cluelessly, he replied, “going to get the drinks.”

The youngest shook his head, “No way! Birthday boys don’t get their drinks, they don’t lift a finger.” 

He knew Bambam was one to take birthdays seriously, but this was beginning to feel like it was going the extra mile too many. 

“I’ll get it.” 

Jaebeom watched Bambam get up to retrieve the drinks. He expects him to just grab the drinks and return to the table, but instead, Bambam says something to the girl. Arching his neck to the side, he tries to make a clear path to eavesdrop on what’s being said, hearing being one of the benefits of turning. Unfortunately, the café is too loud for him to focus on the conversation and he’s defeated by the fact that he’ll have to stay in the dark.

The girl laughs loudly at something Bambam said and Jaebeom can’t help but feel mixed about it. On one hand, he got his wish – hearing her laugh – but on the other hand, he wasn’t the cause of it. For some reason it makes him bring his clench and unclench his fists which rest on the arms of the sofa chair. Jinyoung takes notice.

Jaebeom quickly looks down at his lap when he senses that Bambam is returning to where they’re sat, not wanting to give away that he had been staring. First, he places Jinyoung’s and his drink on the table, soon turning back around to go back and fetch the last drink – Jaebeom’s. 

When he comes back, Jaebeom looks up to see a large grin spread across the youngest’s face. He has that look again – the one as if he knows a joke Jaebeom doesn’t. 

The latter nodded his head in thanks for getting the drinks as he inspects his green tea on the table. Just as he’s about to pick up the mug, he’s stopped in his tracks by an announcement coming from the coffee bar. 

“Hello everyone! Sorry for the interruption, but I’ve been told that we have a birthday here today,” you said. Giving announcements wasn’t your strong suit, but you figured now that you were an actual owner of something, you were going to get over your shyness. But you didn’t think it was going to be that often that a tall, skinny and pale boy with a Rolex on his wrist would be asking you to get your coffee shop to sing happy birthday for his friend. Even when you were a barista working for someone else no one had made such a request. This was a café after all, not an Applebee’s.

Jaebeom wished more than anything that he could sink into his seat and just disappear. If only that cliché that vampires turned into bats were true, then he could just fly away at a moment’s notice. Leave it to Bambam to torture him like this. It wasn’t intentional of course, but it certainly felt like it to Jaebeom. 

It was especially tragic to him because the girl he had been studying was the one leading the entire café in singing “Happy Birthday.” He did his best to avoid looking at her, feeling like his entire body was heating up in embarrassment even though he couldn't heat up. 

You on the other hand felt a little insulted by the birthday boy’s lack of eye contact. You hadn’t even managed to get a good look at him before you started singing and now it was not possible with the way that he was looking down at the ground, his long hair falling in front of his face, concealing itself to you. It wasn’t difficult to conclude that he felt awkward about a bunch of strangers he had never met singing him happy birthday, you had felt the same whenever your friends tried to ambush you on your birthday… but you at least looked up and acknowledged the presence of the people singing. A tight smile from this guy would even be happily accepted. 

When the song is over and the claps that follow finally subside, he looks up to see the café back at its previous state of normalcy, not a single person looking at him anymore. Jaebeom lets out a sigh of relief. 

“You could at least act like you liked it,” Bambam huffed in annoyance. He wished Jaebeom could appreciate the idea of birthdays like he did. 

“I really didn’t need to be the center of attention today Bam.” 

“But it’s your bir-” Bambam begins to explain, but Jaebeom abruptly cuts him off, not wanting to hear his reasoning for today’s antics, yet again. The day hadn’t even started.

“My birthday, I know. Thanks for reminding me.” 

Jinyoung clears his throat and plays with the spoon that came with his Flat White. Just as Jaebeom is the mediator for Bambam and Jinyoung, sometimes Jinyoung has to be the mediator for Jaebeom and Bambam. Essentially the commonality in the disagreements of their trio friendship is Bambam and currently, Jinyoung feels as though he should route the conversation elsewhere.

“What else is in the cards for tonight then boys?” 

It’s then based on the look on Jaebeom’s face, that Jinyoung thinks that maybe talking about the plans for tonight – on Jaebeom’s birthday – isn’t re-routing the conversation. Especially since it’s Bambam’s whose eyes light up and is the one to reply to him.

“Obviously we’re going out tonight,” Bambam paused and turned to Jaebeom, wagging his finger in the latter’s face, “there’s no way you’re getting out of this. I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes and didn’t respond as he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had rejected Bambam’s invitations to go out consistently for the last 6 months and on his birthday of all days, Bam was going to force him out of the house just as he had done this morning to come to the café.

He looks back to the front counter, his eyes searching for the barista who has now suddenly disappeared. A frown begins to make itself known on his face, feeling a bit disappointed by the fact that she may have left already or gone elsewhere, but soon she’s popping up from behind the counter, no doubt getting something from the cabinets below. Jaebeom feels relief. 

“What did you say to her?” he asked suddenly looking back at Bambam.

He cocked his head to the side, confused, “What did I say to who?” 

“The barista behind the counter.” 

His friend nodded his head slowly, suddenly realizing what Jaebeom means. A smirk appears on his face, “nothing much… Just how it was your birthday and it would be really good if we could all embarrass you by singing about it. She’s not a barista, by the way, she owns the place. Kinda backward thinking there Jae. It’s the 21st century, women can own things now, they can vote.” 

“I know that,” Jaebeom hissed. 

Bambam puts up his hands in defeat, “I’m just making sure.” 

“Don’t you know her?” Jinyoung asked, “isn’t that why we came here?” 

Jaebeom’s interests are perked. It’s not often that the three of them meet new people. It’s not like there’s a huge point to it. The last new person the three of them met was Mark – also a vampire – a bartender at their favorite club in the city, but that was in 2007. 

He waits for Bambam’s explanation as to how he knows this girl and why they came here specifically beside it just being near Jaebeom’s apartment. 

Waving his hand nonchalantly, the Thai boy gives his answer, “I don’t really know her. Minji does. Met her in some kind of class, I think. SoulCycle? Pilates? Zumba? I don’t know. I can’t keep up with her and her activities these days.” 

Minji is Bambam’s mate. He had turned her only a month after they met. 

Jaebeom’s not sure what he would do if he met his mate. He doesn’t know if he would want to subject them to turning and living the same kind of life as him, but he also doesn’t know if he could continue life alone after meeting his mate. If he ever meets them.

“Why the curiosity?” Jinyoung asked, for once finding it hard to remain stone-faced. Even his usual chill, non-revealing demeanor seems to fade away when it appears that his older friend might be attracted to someone. 

Jaebeom simply shrugged, “it’s nothing…” 

“What do you think? Could she be the one?” Bambam asked teasingly, pointing to the girl behind the counter. 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes almost immediately at the younger boy, “if you’re going to keep bothering him about it, don’t make it so obvious idiot.” 

Jaebeom had been alive – or more like undead – for 200 years and more than half of that time he had to listen to this same conversation from his friends over and over again. His patience was wearing thin and 180 years later, he was tired of their pestering. 

He leaned forward slowly and grabbed his green tea off the table, making sure to visibly flinch at the heat of the drink, Bambam, and Jinyoung chuckling at his reaction. Out of the three of them, Jaebeom certainly had the most practice when it came to “putting on a show” for the humans and “acting” the most human. Taking a sip, he looked back at the girl behind the counter. 

The youngest vampire had spent many of their outings and conversations hypothesizing who Jaebeom’s mate could be. Despite being the oldest of the three, Jaebeom was the only one left who still hadn’t found his mate and he was beginning to feel hopeless. Typically, Bambam pointed out any human girl as a candidate – all of them of course ended up not being his mate. Therefore, Jaebeom didn’t pay attention to his picks anymore, but he had to admit… He did get a strange feeling from the girl behind the counter. 

Jaebeom looked to you, hoping to catch your gaze as you quickly made the coffee orders for the few people waiting to the side of the cash register. Just when he was about to give up and focus his attention back on his friends, you tore your concentration away from the drink in your hand and looked up at him from across the cafe. 

Jaebeom focused his gaze deep onto you with his eyes – testing, checking, and trialing your focus. You didn’t look away, instead, you trained your eyes deeply into his and stared at him until finally, it was Jaebeom who broke the contact. 

He shook his head at his friends, disappointed by your inability to break the trance and ultimately confused at the feeling he still got from you despite that. 

Jaebeom took another sip of the tea, “it’s not her.” 

“Did you have to debate that Uber driver on the Twilight franchise?” Jinyoung groaned at Bambam as soon as they’re out of the car. 

The entire twenty-minute ride, he had got into a heated discussion with their driver on how Twilight was not “true” or realistic to most actual vampire folklore. It had been an excruciating thing to listen to. 

“Got to stand up for our kind dude.” 

“Okay, but what happens when she starts asking how you know all these things or why you’re so interested in vampire stuff?” Jinyoung tended to always be right. This wasn’t an exception.

Brushing off his pants, Bambam gives him a nonchalant wave, “chill out man. Everyone loves vampire stuff.” 

“Maybe in 2008,” Jaebeom said just barely loud enough for his friends to hear them. The two of them laughed, Bambam shoving him playfully on the shoulder, “Birthday boy getting funny on us.” 

“I was always funny,” Jaebeom deadpanned. 

“Funny and looking good tonight. Let’s get you laid, shall we?” 

After a day that was jampacked full of various activities planned by his youngest friend, the last thing Jaebeom wanted to do was spend extra energy on trying to get some girl to come home with him tonight. Besides, he wasn’t that guy anymore. 

Jinyoung scoffed, “he doesn’t need to get laid tonight.”

“Yes, he does! Jaebeom how long has it been?” 

This time it’s Jinyoung that shoves Bambam’s shoulder – except it’s not all that playful. 

“Fine don’t answer that, but I’m just saying there will be quite a few girls here that you can have your pick of, despite your plain outfit.” 

Jaebeom looked at the clothes he had changed into when Bambam spared him a sliver of time to go back home to digress and feed his cats. The latter had wanted him to borrow clothes of his, but instead, Jaebeom decided on pulling pieces from his closet that felt more like him, less like Bambam. A plain pair of ripped jeans, an oversized black shirt that he had bought at a shop from his trip to London last year, and his mother’s necklace that often wasn’t missing from its spot around his neck.

Bambam’s earlier critique was that he was dressed too basic and that no girls would bat an eye at him. Girls don’t like plain guys, he had said. The comment makes Jaebeom wonder about you and whether you’d fall under the category of not liking “plain” guys. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. It was probably the eighth time he had made himself do it today. Jaebeom had found his mind often drifting to you throughout the day for some unexplainable reason. During their walk in the park, he wondered if you would take strolls during your breaks from the café or when Bambam forced him to go paint pottery for an hour and a half he thought about what you would paint. It frustrated him because he hadn’t even spoken to you – not a word and yet you were clearly on his mind for one reason or another. It wasn’t even like you were his mate. He had tried to see if you were unaffected by his trance, his hypnotic capabilities, but you had just stared at him completely fixated just as everyone else was. 

Jaebeom was not going to think about you any longer. He was already planning on avoiding your café. 

“We’re on the list,” Bambam tells the bouncer when they arrive at the entrance of the club. He scans the list and motions his head towards the direction of the door to signal to the three of them to go on ahead. There’s a bit of a whine coming from the people waiting in line which admittedly so makes Jaebeom feel a little guilty, but Bambam ensures him it’s fine, “why have a friend who works at a club if we can’t use him for the perks?” 

“Why does he keep bartending again?” As soon as the question is out of Jaebeom’s mouth he realizes it was a stupid thing to ask since the answer is apparent. 

Bambam laughed at him, giving his long – irreplaceable he’d like to remind everyone – leather coat to the person at the front of the club. Jaebeom swears he hears him tell the coat check guy the “proper” way to put it on a hanger. 

“Obviously for the girls Jaebeom.” 

Mark’s mate – Hana had passed on a long time ago. Jaebeom had never got the chance to meet her, only hears about her in passing from some stories that Mark has told the three of them. He hadn’t turned her. Jaebeom’s never asked why. 

“Girls… of course.” 

He can’t help but think about how Mark must feel inside. Although Jaebeom doesn’t know him as well as he knows Bambam and Jinyoung, whenever he’s with the older boy he’s always got a smile on his face. Often quiet, but he’s always got certain energy bouncing off of him that would indeed make him popular with women. However, if what they say about mates is true, would that mean that a piece of Mark was now missing? Did he feel like he was less of a person? Jaebeom felt like that sometimes and he hadn’t even met his mate yet. Mark had his, but now he didn’t. 

“Drinks?” Jinyoung asked the two of them and Jaebeom is partly surprised. Out of the three of them, Bambam was the one who was the most comfortable in a club or even bar setting. He figures that Jinyoung must be using his birthday as an excuse to cut loose and become someone else for the night.

Bambam instantly nodded his head at Jinyoung’s suggestion and Jaebeom finds himself trailing behind the two of them as they make their way over to Mark at the bar who is throwing his head back at something the girl across the bar is saying. Judging on Jaebeom’s intuition – it’s a bit fake and overplayed, but you got to do what you got to do.

“My man!” Bambam yelled over the music, leaning against the counter in a way to make sure he doesn’t get the elbows of his long sleeve turtleneck wet. Mark in response, turned to them and smiled, then routing his attention back to the girl, giving her an apologetic smile. Her half-smile says everything Jaebeom could need to know – this girl would not be going home with Mark after his shift tonight. 

“What can I get you guys tonight,” Mark turned to Jaebeom and the latter can barely make out his sharp canines in the dark club, “birthday boy you want anything special?” 

Before Jaebeom can reply that he wants to be at home, Bambam answers for him.

“Could we maybe get something that’s off the menu?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Mark who gave him a shit-eating grin, knowing immediately what he was talking about. 

“Off the menu” meant Mark’s secret stash of O negative underneath the counter. While alcohol had the same effect on them that it had on the average humans, adding a bit of blood just made a little bit better. Okay… it made it a lot better. 

“Three negronis coming right up,” Mark winked to give a little signal that these would most likely not be as well composed or put together as a negroni, but due to them being in public, he couldn’t necessarily announce a shit ton of alcohol mixed with human blood was going to be served up to them. 

“How has your birthday been Jae?” Mark asked as he was in the middle of placing three glasses onto the countertop in between them.

It was difficult to explain since to Jaebeom it had just been another day except for a little bit more excruciating. The celebration of another year “older” filled him with thoughts of how much time has passed, whether he’s done anything truly important and why he still hasn’t found the person who is meant to complete him… but like he said only a little more excruciating than any other day. 

Jaebeom shrugged in response, “Bam planned a lot and for the most part, it was…” he paused for a moment, wondering if he should say how he felt – numb, lost, and wishing the day would come to an end as if tomorrow won’t bring the same thoughts or problems. But as he looked at his friends who had tried so hard today to make him happy and celebrate, he decided to guard them against the ultimate truth, “for the most part it was fun – really good. I mean besides the singing at the café of course.” He throws in the last part to at least have some kind of believability to his story. 

He notices Mark’s eyebrows lift out of curiosity as his concentration focuses on measuring out each part of the drinks, “An entire café sang you happy birthday? Damn, I don’t think I could ever get through that, so I can only imagine how you feel.” 

“That was Bam’s idea,” Jinyoung muttered. 

Once again, Bambam does his nonchalant waving of the hand, “it wasn’t that bad. I mean okay, maybe it was… But Jaebeom was obsessed with the girl who led it.” 

Jaebeom suddenly feels like he wants to put duct tape over his friend’s mouth. 

“I was not obsessed with her! I don’t even know her!” Jaebeom for some reason felt the need to defend himself, which was probably the worst option. Him getting defensive was usually a tell-tale sign for his friends being right on whatever they were confronting him with. 

Bambam scoffed, bringing gliding his drink across the bar to be directly in front of him once Mark has poured it neatly into the short glass, “I noticed you staring at her before I went to get the drinks. That’s why I asked her to do it in the first place.” 

“So, she doesn’t know Minji?” Jinyoung questioned. 

The youngest takes his first sip and immediately lets out a hissing noise, signaling to Mark that it’s both strong and good. “No, she does, but Jaebeom’s weird staring only made it that much better.” 

Mark pushed the other two glasses towards Jinyoung and Jaebeom, “Was she your…” he drifted off, almost as though he was finding it physically difficult to get the word out. Jaebeom can’t help but feel the want to reach his hand out towards Mark and place it comfortingly on his shoulder, but his group of friends don’t do that. Instead, he saves him the trouble by answering back right away, not forcing him to say it.

“No, she wasn’t.” 

The bartender nodded slowly, suddenly avoiding his gaze from the three familiar boys across the bar from him, “That’s uh… too bad that she wasn’t able to break the trance. Sorry, Jaebeom.” 

He knows that Mark is just trying to be nice, especially when they’re on a subject that he clearly can’t and doesn’t want to talk about, but the attempt to be comforting makes Jaebeom nauseous. 

“Well maybe he’ll find her here tonight,” Jinyoung quipped, placing a hand on Jaebeom’s back. Sometimes the latter swore that his friends treated him he had just found out he had a terminal illness. 

“I sincerely doubt it,” Jaebeom commented gruffly. 

There’s a sound from the other side of the bar from a customer who seems fed up with the conversation being had between the four of them – distracting Mark from serving anyone else. He gives a signal to them to notify them that he’ll be there in a second. “Well… come to me if you guys need more drinks.  It’s on me tonight.” 

“Thanks, man,” Jaebeom tells him honestly because he might need a couple more drinks before he gets to the state of wanting to be in this room.

Mark said a final word of “see you guys later” and heads to the other end of the bar to help customers who have been waiting. Grabbing their drinks, Jaebeom, Jinyoung, and Bambam turn around to depart the bar, to find somewhere to sit for a bit before the drinks truly begin to hit them.  

With his drink in hand, Jaebeom took a sip and reveled in the perfect balance of alcohol to burn his throat and blood to soothe it. The drink was probably the most relaxing part of his day thus far and as he looked out at the crowd, he could already tell that maybe the mixture was going to his head due to his sudden thinking that this place wasn’t all that bad.

Despite not being a club guy, if he were to go out, Jaebeom would always choose this club that Mark works out. To put it simply – it was vampire friendly. With Mark behind the counter and his “secret” supply free-flowing, it became a notoriously known place for vampires in town. If he had to guess, the attendance on an average night was probably evenly split 50/50, humans and vampires.

The humans weren’t aware of the vampires of course – for the most part.

Jaebeom cleared his throat once they’ve found a booth to sit in, “so… Bam what do you know about that girl?” 

Both Jinyoung and Bambam exchange glances before looking back at the birthday boy. The latter tried his best to conceal the smile on his face, “not much… just that she owns the café, knows Minji, and is very single.” 

For some reason, Jaebeom’s stomach does a little flip, but he wishes it wouldn’t. “S-So?” Through his stutter, he tries to remain as confident as possible, but his friends see right through his façade.

Jinyoung leaned forward until his elbows rest on the top of his thighs, “Jaebeom you can be honest with us… Why the sudden fascination with this girl? Are you sure she didn’t break the trance? Just with the way that you’re acting…” Jinyoung drifted off, not bothering to finish his final sentence, but once again looking at Bambam. It makes Jaebeom lean forward in his seat as well. 

“With the way, I’m acting? I’m completely normal. I’m fine. She didn’t break the trance and now I’m just curious about her as curious as anyone would be about someone they meet.” 

There’s the silence between the three of them until Bambam speaks up, “You didn’t meet her though.” 

It dawns on Jaebeom that he didn’t even speak to you and he wonders why does it feel like he did. Why did it feel like he knew you but didn’t at the same time? Why haven’t his mind and body been cooperating with him since this morning at the café? 

Just with the way that you’re acting…

The way he was acting? What did that mean? Was the way he was acting mean something specific? 

He feels like he blinks and thirty minutes go by. And in that past thirty minutes, Jaebeom had somehow managed to drink 6 of Mark’s “negronis.” He felt like his head was beginning to get dizzy. It wasn’t often that Jaebeom found himself drunk on the verge of drunkenness due to alcohol not affecting him as much as humans. To even remotely get to that state, he had to drink a lot and it had to be strong. 

“You feeling it Jaebeom?” Through the darkness and the haze of the alcohol, Jaebeom could barely make out the hint of the smile playing on Jinyoung’s face. He had switched to a glass of wine at some point while Jaebeom was binge drinking which had to be the most Jinyoung thing ever. Who drinks a glass of wine in a dark, sweaty club? 

He’s afraid to answer him verbally which would give his friend an obvious sign of how he was feeling. So instead he just shrugged – as usual. 

“Dude let’s get out there!” The youngest shouted, motioning his hands to the middle of the club, “dance… maybe find you a girl?” 

Jaebeom watched the people pressing up against each other on the dancefloor, moving their bodies, and drinking like their lives depended on it. He wondered if he wanted to be a part of that. Everyone out there was so full of life and vigor… he just wasn’t. He also didn’t know if he was that drunk, but bless Bambam because he didn’t need alcohol to be out there. 

For what feels like the millionth time, his mind drifted to you. Was this your kind of place? Would you come here? If you did would you come alone? With friends? Someone else? You didn’t seem like the type of person who would like this place. You seemed more like him – the observant, calm, inquisitive type who would much rather be at home with a book than at a party. 

Then for a moment, he can picture it. It’s almost like he’s in a trance – an image of you curled up on a couch – his couch – under a large white cable knit blanket fills his mind. Rather than reading, your painting with watercolors – the kind that seems to be in every elementary school classroom – and he hears a voice out of view. His voice.

“Painting really?”  

Jaebeom sees you glance up from your painting to look at him, smiling.

“Looks like I’m gonna have a lot of time on my hands so… might as well get good at something.” 

Jaebeom hears himself laugh, “Okay but watercolors?” 

He feels like he’s going to pass out when he finally hears it – your laugh. 

“Let the artist work Im Jaebeom! She needs to get good enough to live off auction house money once her paintings get sold! Shh!” Despite your words, you smiled and suddenly moved the tools away from you onto the coffee table. You lifted half the blanket off of you and patted the space of the couch beside you, “you know I can’t say no when you give me that face. Come here.”

And just like that, the vision is gone. Jaebeom feels confused because it didn’t feel like a dream or fantasy, but it felt real… it felt like a memory. 

“Hello, Earth to Jaebeom?” 

Right… dancing. Maybe dancing would help him forget whatever game his mind was playing on him.

“Yeah let’s fucking go.” 

Another instance occurs where Jaebeom blinks and everything moves so fast. Suddenly he’s no longer sat at the table with Bambam and Jinyoung, but instead in the middle of that mess on the dancefloor with everyone else. He almost feels like one of them. He almost feels human again. But as soon as that feeling washes over him, it quickly dissipates. 

He knows it must be the drinks doing all the work, because otherwise, he would have never found himself in the middle of all these people, thinking that dancing is a good idea. Dancing had never done anything remotely good for him before, so why now? To help forget? Was it going to help him do that? 

“I swear it’s like he’s not even here.” 

Jaebeom tuned back into the moment, and it’s when he realizes that Jinyoung and Bambam have been trying to get his attention this entire time.

“Sorry I was just- the alcohol you know…” He says it so quietly that he knows his friends won’t be able to hear him over the music and the millions of conversations happening around them. But he thinks that maybe it’s better that way and that it truly doesn’t matter what he says.

Jinyoung comes closer to Jaebeom, until his mouth is right next to his ear, “we were just asking if there’s anyone that you’re interested in.” 

They’re still on this idea? Jaebeom asked himself. 

Even in his drunken state, he didn’t think that finding some random girl to fuck was going to help with the emptiness he’s been feeling lately, but for the first time since getting up and onto the dance floor he takes in the people around him. As depressing as it was to observe, most people were here with someone else. 

It’s then his gaze falls onto a couple that stands far on the left side of the floor, behind where Jinyoung is standing. The two of them have their fronts pressed up against each other, dancing so closely with arms exploring one another’s bodies. The female has her head resting on the male’s shoulder as if she’s too exhausted to keep going, but can’t dare to part with him. It’s like they’re part of each other and any distance would cause them to lose all sense of themselves.

The girl lifts her head off the male’s shoulder and gives him this look that makes Jaebeom’s heart – if it was still beating – ache. She says something to him and he nodded happily in response. Even through the dim lights and large crowd, Jaebeom could see the sharp teeth inside her mouth.

She placed her head back against his shoulder, this time, however, the male had his head angled back, stretching out his neck. The girl moves in closer until her mouth just ghosts over the skin, breathing on it until the boy shuts his eyes awaiting the sting and pleasure that will come next.

Biting down against his flesh, breaking skin, the girl drinks from her partner. Even though he’s at a distance from them, Jaebeom can tell by the look on the man’s face that he’s enjoying being fed on and that it certainly isn’t his first time. 

He feels like his eyes are frozen on the couple. It’s been so long since he fed off someone instead of the stuff that he gets from his connection at the hospital. Jaebeom tries not to think about the way his fingertips tingle and his throat dries up at the thought of drinking from a warm body. The alcohol has only dehydrated him and made him feel even more thirsty – he’s afraid that going back to the bar and asking Mark for a glass of O negative exclusively isn’t going to make that go away. 

After a moment or two, the girl removes her mouth from the boy’s neck and drags her tongue over the spot where she had drawn blood from, ultimately covering the wound and signaling that she was done drinking. 

He thinks of how risky it is to do that at a place like this. Although half of the people around them also take part in the activity of drinking blooding and granted most of them aren’t paying attention to those around them – there are still unsuspecting humans everywhere. If one wrong person were to see then that could be it for this club being a haven for the vampire community in the city and that would probably be… it for vampires in this city in general. 

But who was he kidding? He was being a hypocrite because he’s for sure done the same thing. 

You’ve once again entered his mind. However, this time it isn’t an image, picture, or vision that occupies his thoughts, but instead just the idea of how you would react to who he is, what he really is. Throughout his time that he’s been undead he’s only done the “reveal” to a handful of people and even then, it took him a long time to get there. Well except for one person who ultimately was a mistake and his friends hadn’t hesitated to let him know.

With you, Jaebeom felt that you wouldn’t be the kind of person to judge him instantly based on what he was. You would be shocked of course, maybe even scared, but you wouldn’t let that cloud your judgment. You wouldn’t let yourself reject something just because it was unfamiliar. 

What the fuck was he on about? 

It must be the alcohol doing this to him. He would have to thank Mark for making them strong this time around, but also make a mental note to never let this happen again. Jaebeom was already a deeper thinker, but this was getting out of hand.

There’s a sudden grasp of Jaebeom’s elbow and he feels himself jump at the sudden touch. His eyebrows furrowed when he realized it wasn’t one of his friends considering Bambam and Jinyoung were both dancing over to his right side. 

When he turned around to greet the person who had grabbed him, he was disappointed, surprised, and annoyed all in one. It was the last person he had expected to see her, except not really because it made perfect sense. 

“Jaebeom… hi.” Ara smiled shyly at him, tucking a string of hair behind her ear and slightly looking down at the ground. He wants to groan because he knows she’s doing this because he had once mentioned that he thought it was hot when she looked innocent. He shouldn’t have ever said that.

He’s not sure what to say, because what are you supposed to say to someone you’ve been trying to avoid for the past year and a half? Jaebeom had said everything he had wanted to say to her. 

At one point in his life, he had been stupid. He had been stupid and he had abused the power that had been bestowed upon him since the day he had been turned. Perhaps one would assume that he’d been foolish with his ability just at the start – 100, maybe even 150 years ago. Instead, Jaebeom had gone through a rough patch about a year or two ago. 

The overwhelming pressure of finding his mate had started to get to him again. All he needed was someone, anyone to break the hypnotic trance and that was it. A task that seemed so simple, yet never came. So, Jaebeom had used hypnotism to his advantage, getting as many girls as he could in his bed in the shortest amount of time possible. He wasn’t proud of it and it was something he would constantly regret as long as he was ali- around. 

One of those girls… had been Ara. 

Jaebeom felt relieved when she didn’t wait for him to answer back at her greeting, “How are you? I-It’s your birthday, right? How old are you turning again? 27?” She winked immediately after her question and he wants to roll his eyes.

She was the mistake by the way. The mistake that knew about who he was. 

He doesn’t even remember how it happened, how his secret slipped, or what the circumstances of her finding out was. Part of him thinks he was just horny, thirsty, and weak, but she found out and she… loved it. 

Weirdly enough, Ara loved the idea of him being a vampire and his “lifestyle” which at first Jaebeom didn’t think too much about. He thought okay she’s taking this extremely well… better than anyone else I’ve ever told, but whatever, but then it became strange. 

She was what those in the vampire community call a “vampire fetishizer.”

He coughed awkwardly, his gaze wandering over to Jinyoung and Bambam, hoping they would catch sight of him stuck with Ara and come rescue him. Jaebeom wasn’t that lucky though, not even on his birthday, “Yeah… 27.” 

Jaebeom can’t help but look at her neck. It’s fully on display and it was clear that Ara had come here to find someone to feed on her. He had been the one to show Ara this place before he had been clued into her little… vampire obsession. 

“Well did the birthday boy get everything he wants today?” She smiled and gave Jaebeom those eyes. He feels his cock twitch in his pants and he realizes he has to keep himself in check because he’s not that weak tonight… right? 

His eyes flash to her neck again and Jaebeom feels his throat get even drier. He was so thirsty and he knows Ara would be so willing. 

No Jaebeom… No. 

“I-I uh yeah… you know got- yeah today’s been good,” he stuttered awkwardly, bringing his tongue out to wet his dry lips. Judging on the look on Ara’s face, she’s taken the action the wrong way. 

“You look thirsty Jaebeom… do you want a drink?” 

He knows what she means and Jaebeom swallows hard in an attempt to distract himself, to remind himself that he’s not that thirsty. He doesn’t need it that bad.

“I-I think I am.” 

The words come out faster than his brain can process to stop them and the part of Jaebeom that’s coherent, sharp, and aware wants to punch the weak and drunk Jaebeom in the face. 

Without a word, Ara turned from Jaebeom and began walking to one of the exits at the side of the club. He feels like he’s the one in a trance, mindlessly following her through the people, not even hearing Jinyoung and Bambam calling out to him. The only thing that Jaebeom makes note of as he follows her is Mark’s face behind the bar, giving him a tight smile. It almost stops Jaebeom. Almost. 

When they finally get outside through the exit door, they find themselves in a small alley between the club and a dry cleaner. 

Jaebeom doesn’t even get a moment to think before Ara is pushing him against the wall of the dry cleaner, her hands roaming up and down his body, her lips going to his own. They’re pressed up against each other so closely that he recalls the couple he had watched earlier. He feels sick comparing this moment now to the two of them. 

“Fuck I missed you so much,” Ara sighed seductively into this ear, making Jaebeom’s stomach churn further at her clear longing for him. Well not him, but the vampire part of him.

“Please, I need it,” she mewled. At her words, he almost puts a stop to this whole thing and has to question whether this is the right thing to do. Jaebeom wonders if this is old Jaebeom behavior – the one that just used women and threw them away later like toys, but then he remembers that this is Ara. She’s using him as well. 

It’s almost as though that old, cocky, snide Jaebeom appears out of nowhere as he says his next words and brings himself closer to her neck, “do you really need it?” 

“Yes, Jaebeom I do, please.” Ara already sounds so desperate and he’s barely done anything. He can’t help but smirk at her reaction.

“Then I guess I better give it to you then.” 

He’s about to do it. He’s about to bite down and finally relieve his thirst, his craving, but then he looks to the side of the alley – towards the street. He feels like he’s seeing things again like he’s in the middle of a hallucination or mirage. That thought is pushed away when he locks eyes with you. 

“Don’t mind me,” you placed your hands up in front of yourself, to show him you’re not eavesdropping. Your action frustrated you because it would have been much better to say nothing, but you felt yourself panic. The prolonged eye contact with him while he’s just seconds away from pressing down – bitting down? – on the girl’s next for some reason pushed you into defensive mode. Not to mention his eyes… his eyes were – red? 

The girl hadn’t noticed you; you aren’t even sure if she heard you, but she certainly noticed Jaebeom’s stare fixated on you. When she faces you, she wears an unpleasant sneer, clearly annoyed by your interruption of whatever this was. 

“Can you go?” She said, the agitation in her voice more than apparent. 

Rather than immediately leave the scene, you continued to stare at Jaebeom. It’s difficult to say why you decided to walk this specific way home despite it being so late and dark out, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but be pulled in this direction. You weren’t someone who believed in signs or fate, but it felt so wrong to go any other way tonight. That was another thing, you felt this kink in your neck that practically forced you or taunted you into looking down the alley between this dry cleaners and club. It was yet another thing about today that felt unexplainable to you as you certainly weren’t expecting the birthday boy from the café today to be in a compromising position with some girl. 

After a moment of more uncomfortable staring – something else that had happened at the café today with him – Jaebeom breaks your gaze and looks down at his feet. The eye roll and acrid look on the girl’s face don’t go unnoticed by you. 

You shouldn’t be here. 

“S-Sorry. I’ll just get going then,” you concluded, unsure why you felt an uncomfortable sickness spread throughout the entirety of your body. 

You barely knew this guy – all you really knew was that today was his birthday and that he was friends with Minji’s boyfriend. Basically nothing. Yet now and even earlier back at the café you had felt this weird sensation within yourself. Not even when you looked at him, but just being in the same presence. It had been so hard to focus on making coffee today when he was seated across the room. Every part of your body just wanted to get closer, gravitate towards him. It was fucking weird… and scary. 

The girl nodded as if to signal “yeah about time,” at the announcement of your departure. Jaebeom on the other hand, still had his eyes glued to the ground as if looking at you once again will cause him some kind of pain.

Just as you’re about to continue your trip back home, you stop yourself and look back at the couple in the alley. 

“Happy birthday by the way…” you paused wondering if it would be weird to say his name considering he doesn’t even know yours, but you shove the thought out of your mind, “Jaebeom…”    

Hearing you say his name causes that tingling feeling in his fingertips to come back and his entire mind is sent into a frenzy. He feels too awkward, too shy to look at you again, but a sudden thought washed over him. What if earlier was a mistake? What if you are his mate? With the way he was currently feeling just at you saying his name, the visions he had in the club and the nonstop place you know had in his mind, it was difficult to believe that you weren’t his mate. 

Bambam and Jinyoung had found it difficult to explain to him what it felt like to find your mate, but surely what he felt right now wasn’t normal behavior or feelings. Unless he was a psychopath. 

Tightly shutting his eyes and drawing together all his strength, Jaebeom aims to try once again to see if you can break the hypnotic trance, unaffected by his abilities. However, as soon as he’s finally ready, head turned up to face you – you’re gone. You didn’t wait for him to respond to the happy birthday message. Instead, you simply left not wanting to be a burden or troublesome to whatever it was those two were doing in that alley. 

“Thank fucking god, let’s get back to it,” Ara concluded with a final roll of her eyes, gripping Jaebeom’s shoulders to get him close to her once again. He stares at her neck, but this time he doesn’t feel anything. He no longer feels thirsty and his appetite is gone. 

Jaebeom shrugs her off slightly. The encounter with you has caused him to wake up and realize what a bad idea it would be to do this right now. He hopes that Ara won’t put up a fight – he doesn’t want to have to hypnotize her if he doesn’t need to. 

At his actions, Ara takes a step away in disbelief, as if she actually can’t believe that Jaebeom is changing his mind and no longer wants her, “are you serious?” 

He doesn’t say anything but instead avoids eye contact with her just as he had done for you. 

Snorting, she glared at him, “Fine. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. I can find someone else to feed off of me. Yours never felt that good anyway. Asshole.”

Just like that, she’s out of his life once again and Jaebeom can’t help but feel thankful. He should have never been weak enough to be dragged out by here anyway. He had just been consumed by thoughts of you, alcohol, and the couple on the dancefloor. Then again, not coming out here would have robbed him of the opportunity of seeing you again and finding out that you actually knew his name. 

That’s when it dawned on him. 

Fuck… how much had you seen? What did you see? 

Jaebeom realized that he might have some explaining to do

[collecting-stories]

I Feel it all Over - t. 04 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Kiara surprises you at church and you spend the day with her, JJ, and Pope.

A/N: If you haven't ever listened to them...can I just highly recommended listening to The Maine (whose album You Are Ok this is based on)? They’re music is amazing...You Are Ok, American Candy, and Pioneer are probably my favorite albums of theirs. Plus they did an incredible cover of Watermelon Sugar...if you’re a fan of Harry Styles. 

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✞ I swear to every god I feel everything tonight with you ✞

New patrons to the church were usually whole families that came to services, whose fathers or mothers agreed your father’s lesson and felt drawn to the “community” of the Baptist denomination. They responded to the clickbait phrases and did feel lost in their everyday life. It was very rare that any new member, or anyone testing the church out for the first time, would be a single person, a teenager far removed from the beliefs and traditions of the church. But there was Kiara, walking up the few steps into the vestibule. She wasn’t here because of any lost feelings; she was here because she wanted to get to know you more. What JJ had told her, and what she had seen for herself on Friday, was someone that she definitely wanted to be friends with.  

She had no bet to dictate how or when she became friends with you. She slipped into the line of people entering the church, catching sight of you standing by the door handing out pamphlets for that morning’s service. Making sure she was at the end of the line, she waved as she approached, happy to see you.  

“What are you doing here?” You asked, glancing into the church before giving her a quick hug. If your parents or any other family saw they would ask how you knew this complete stranger and why you seemed so friendly with someone who had never been to the church before.  

“JJ stole you on Friday,” she shrugged, “thought maybe we could hang out after church?”  

“Yeah,” you nodded, a story already formulating in your head to tell your parents. Your mother always said that a lie was the devil on your tongue and the first time she’d said it you were convinced that the devil had taken out real estate because you lied constantly, and with ease. Sometimes just to see if you could get away with it. “That would be amazing.”

As far as friends went, you had very few. Your main source of companionship had come from your brothers and sisters, other friends were just acquaintances from youth group or church retreats that you never really felt any deeper connection with. The further away from the fold you felt, the less you found a community for yourself. You had been doubting for so long now that anything within the church felt like a show you were putting on for other people’s amusement, the emotions weren’t real and niether were you.  

JJ wasn’t the first boy you had ever let yourself like but he was the first person you had ever felt comfortable being yourself around. There was no fear of judgement or rejection with him, nothing you said was turned into a weapon to make you feel guilty or unworthy, you didn’t have to pretend to be someone you weren’t. You had been nervous to meet his friends, feeling so different from them, but Kiara and Pope had been nice, welcoming, and all you felt was ease. Even now, seeing Kiara had put a more genuine smile on your face than seeing your family visiting for church.

“I wore my best ‘church’ outfit,” Kiara said, gesturing to the maxi dress and sweater she was wearing. The dress was backless and strappy but it was the only thing she owned that wasn’t short. She’d thrown a sweater overtop, hoping she could play off the dress better.

“You blend right in,” you laughed, “I’m relegated to sit up front...I don’t know if you wanna sit with me up there?”

“Lead the way.”

The “peace be with you’s” weren’t too bad and you lied to your mom when she asked how you knew Kiara, telling her that you had met at Heyward's and invited Kiara to church because she was interested in the tract you had. Your mother’s love for testimony and her conviction that people really did want to be approached on the street and harassed about their faith were enough to convince her that your story was solid. It was enough, even, to give you permission to go to lunch with Kiara after service was over.  

Kiara hadn’t been to church since she was thirteen and her mom decided that she was old enough to choose whether or not she actually wanted to be there. That sort of power and responsibility had been all Kiara needed to ditch Sunday service altogether and spend her mornings out on the waves with the pogues, worshipping a different sort of force. She was a lot less religious and a lot more spiritual now though she listened intently to your father preaching. The opinions were hogwash, nothing to bat an eye at, but the actual teachings were interesting. You seemed relatively invested in those parts too, your notes, Kiara realized, looked a lot more like a theology lesson than a preacher’s condemnation of society.  

“You know a lot about the bible,” Kiara mentioned once you were out of church and back at her house, changing into jeans and a shirt of hers.  

“I like studying religion, theology,” you clarified, “my grandfather knew a lot about the texts. Not like my dad, he’s just...got his own ideas. My grandfather knew the Greek and Hebrew translations and spent years studying other religions as well. It was so cool to talk to him about it. I like that part, the history, the context, more than the ‘fundamentalist/evangelical crap’ my dad touts.”

“Is that something you’d study?” She asked, pulling a tank top on over her bathing suit, “like in college?”

“My parents won’t let me go to college.” You replied.  

“That’s so crazy, my parents would kill me if I didn’t go.”

You spent the drive to Kiara’s dad’s restaurant explaining your parents future plan for your life, including telling her about the boy that your parents wanted you to marry. When she asked if JJ knew you admitted that he did and that you weren’t really sure what was going to happen when you turned eighteen. You knew what your parents wanted, for you to get engaged and then quickly married, but that wasn’t what you wanted at all.  

“If I say that though...there’s a good chance I’d be ex-communicated. Not just from the church but from my family. One of my cousins defected and no one speaks to her anymore.” You said, “it’s like a massive stain on her family’s reputation.”

“Yeah but if she’s happy, does it matter?”

“It’s...it’s not just that I haven’t worn jeans or drank a soda,” you said, following Kiara out onto the back deck to eat, “it’s that I don’t have anyone outside my family. It’s not just being sheltered, it’s being isolated. And I know that, and I hate it but...it’s all I know.”  

“None of your siblings have done it differently?”  

“No.” You shook your head, “I think I would’ve been fine coasting too...I was pretty much set that this was it ya know? But then...JJ asked me out.” You admitted.

Kiara frowned, “yeah but you don’t know what’s gonna happen with JJ in the future.”

You shrugged, “it’s not just about him...it’s me, feeling happier and more confident.”  

“Talking about me?” JJ’s voice came from behind you and you turned around, watching him and Pope walk up to the railing of the deck. He put his hands on the railing, pulling himself up so he could lean over and kiss your cheek.

“I should’ve known you guys would crash.” Kiara said, rolling her eyes as JJ climbed the rest of the way up, hopping over the railing onto the deck.  

“What’re you guys up to?” Pope asked, staying on the other side.

“Kie mentioned taking the ferry to Chapel Hill.” You replied, “I have to be back before dark though.”

“So what’re we waiting for?” JJ said, grabbing your soda and taking a sip.  

-

The four of you rode the ferry over to Chapel Hill, standing on the back deck the whole time talking. Kiara suggested shopping the moment you got off the ferry, telling you that all she wanted was to see you pick out an actual outfit.  

“Nothing hand-me-down or borrowed, just like a real, honest outfit that you pick out.” Kiara said, taking your hand in hers as she pushed open the door to one of the small stores along the main road.  

JJ followed you to the back of the store where the sale racks were, skimming through clothes, holding up different things that were still a little too far out of your comfort zone. You shook your head at a spaghetti strapped mini dress, pulling a crossover out to show him, “I like this one.”

“Try it on.” He shrugged.  

“Where’s the changing area?” You asked, looking around the small area.  

JJ grabbed your hand, “over here.” He led you to the curtained off stalls, pulling you into one of them and hanging the dress up.  

“I have a very strong feeling that if anyone caught us we would be in massive trouble.” You whispered, biting your lip to stop from laughing as JJ moved so that you were looking in the mirror and he was behind you, hands on your hips. He rested his head on your shoulder, nudging his face into the space between your shirt and your neck, kissing the exposed skin.  

“Yeah but you’ve never been shopping so what do you know?” JJ replied, as if it was obvious and he wasn’t just bullshitting you to stay in the changing room.  

You turned in his arms, putting your hands over his, “I’m not changing with you in here.”

“Fine,” he groaned, “If I leave will you try on something for me?”

“Fine.” You mimicked. You kissed him, initiating it for yourself this time, before pushing him into the curtain. He gave another exasperated sigh as he swept the curtain out of the way and left you to change.

Alone in the dressing room, you changed out of your clothes and tried on the floral wrap dress. It tied off at the waist, cutting a deep V and a slit up to your thigh. It was a dress but not like any you had ever worn before. You pushed the curtain enough that you could peek out to see JJ. He was slouched in the chair, texting, while he waited for you.

“I thought you were picking something out?” You said, looking over at him.

He shrugged, “I’d rather see what you like then pick something out for you.”  

“Thanks,” you nodded.  

JJ watched you as you pushed the curtain back and stepped out of the changing room. “Holy shit,” he mouthed. “Wait, don’t move!”

“What? Why?” You asked as he lifted his phone in front of his face.  

“I wanna picture of this.” He replied. Sure, he had seen you in a dress before but he had never seen you in a dress like this, one that actually fit you well, that wasn’t trying to hide your figure but accentuate it. One that you looked so incredibly happy in.  

“So I take it I don’t look half bad?” You joked, stepping further out when he had stashed his phone and stood up.  

“Half bad? You look...incredible.” JJ replied. Deciding it was worth mentioning, he added, “you look really happy.”

“I really like this dress. I’ve never really...liked anything I’ve worn before. Like, it’s just always felt like, clothes. This is different.” You admitted.

Your clothes were just whatever hand-me-downs fit you. From siblings, relatives, church members, it was never your stuff, you never chose it, never got to say what you liked or disliked.  

“Oh my god!” Kiara exclaimed, coming over and interrupting your moment with JJ, “you look so pretty.”  

“Thanks.” You nodded, smiling at her, “I think I’m gonna get it.”  

“Let me.” JJ piped up and you looked over at him.  

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He insisted.  

There was little further discussion to be had about it, JJ purchasing the dress for you and the four of you wandering around the rest of Chapel Hill, heading in and out of a few different shops. Pope talked to you about his future college plans and you listened intently. Being with JJ was amazing but being able to be friends with a guy, just sitting with Pope and not having to consider anything other that friendship, was so underrated in your life. You had never been friends with a boy either.  

-

Kiara drove you back to your house after you changed, just getting inside as your sister Praise was setting the table. “Hi! I’m so sorry I’m late!” You apologized, “Kie and I were just chatting and I lost track of time.”

“That’s okay Ace, mom was just telling us about Timothy’s visit. Are you excited?” Praise asked, wrapping her arms around you in a hug.  

You hugged her back, “I’m very excited.” You lied.  

Robert gave you a hug as you walked further into the house, handing off a baby and soon you were outside, supervising kids while your other siblings sat and chatted with your parents around the table. You were only two years younger than Robert but he was married with a kid and another on the way and that automatically made you still a kid. Though you felt less and less like a kid every day.  

Your parents talked about Timothy’s visit and their own upcoming trip, ignoring anything that actually had to do with you or your interests. Even Praise, in talking about your upcoming nuptials, mentioned that her dress was still in good condition if you needed one.  

“Oh, wouldn’t that be amazing Ace? You could wear Praise’s dress?” Your mother mentioned from across the table, smiling at you as if all her dreams were being realized right there at the table.

“Amazing.”  

-

The sound of tapping at your window startled you as you sat on the bed, reading before sleep. You walked over, lifting the blinds to see JJ standing there. He waved as you opened the window for him.  

“What are you doing here?”

“I missed you, I wanted to see you.” He replied, leaning into the window space.  

“You just saw me earlier.” You pointed out.  

“I also wanted to know if you wanted to go for a ‘midnight swim’ with me, Kie, and Pope?” JJ said, “we’re taking the HMS out. John B and Sarah don’t feel like going out and I figured you might.”

“I’m lucky no one caught me last time JJ,” you replied, “I don’t know if I can risk it.”

“That’s fine,” he said, “you don’t have to.”

You bit your bottom lip, glancing back over at your door. Your parents were asleep for the night and the thought of getting to spend more time with JJ was just too tempting for you to say no too. You were sure your dad had some bible verse to offer for you as proof that this was an evil infatuation but you could care less, agreeing to go and grabbing the swimsuit that JJ had given you. “Just let me change.”

“Can do.” JJ turned around, back to the window, and you almost laughed.  

You changed quickly before climbing out the window, “I better not get in trouble for this.”

JJ led you through the woods to John B’s house, just like the night of the kegger, taking you down to the jetty. Kiara waved when she saw you and Pope helped you onto the HMS.  

“I can’t believe you let him sneak you out.” Pope joked as JJ boarded the boat.  

He drove you out on the marsh, parking in an open area where they couldn’t be seen by lights at the edge of anyone’s yard. The HMS didn’t have lights itself and they banked on that to keep themselves mostly out of trouble. Kiara lit a lantern in the middle of the boat but otherwise it was dark as they jumped in, JJ hanging back with you.  

The two of you sat on the bench together, in your own little world seemingly. “Can I try a sip?” You asked, holding your hand out for the beer he was drinking.  

“You sure?” He asked.

“Yeah, positive.”  

He passed the beer over, laughing when you took a big gulp and then practically spit in out. “Oh my god, that’s horrible!” You cried, sticking your tongue out.  

“I warned you.” He laughed.

“Not enough,” you replied, “that’s really gross.”  

“Sorry babe,” he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you against him and kissing your cheeks and then your lips. “We’ll stick to soda for now.”  

“Yes please.” You replied, kissing him back.

“Quit macking on each other and get in the water!” Pope shouted, grabbing on to the side of the boat and pushing himself up so that the HMS would rock slightly.  

You grabbed onto JJ more, laughing as the boat swayed.  

“What the fuck Pope, we’re coming.” He grumbled. “I’m trying to spend time with my girlfriend.”

-

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[gyucore]

run to the shadows

pairing: soobin x reader

genre: angst (?), supernatural au

word count: 5.1k

warnings: swearing, blood and wounds, character death

synopsis: the city is on a lockdown. people with uncontrollable elemental powers are springing up left and right. the government is trying to capture every single elemental in the guise of protecting the citizens. much to your dismay, your fiancé, soobin, just had to be one of them.

The rays of the sunset left a warm sensation on your skin. The gentle breeze passing by gives you a moment of coolness that vanished as fast as it came. Children's laughter could be heard close by, their parents watching over them from afar. Sometimes, someone would pass by and greet you with a smile before continuing their way beside the calm waters of the lake. You look on to the horizon and gaze upon the direction where the sun had set, holding on to this scenic view one last time.

The blanket of the night sky soon came, a reminder that you had to quickly return home. You leave the lakeside with a heavy feeling on your chest— one that you can't seem to shake off. But there were more important matters to be dealt with.

"Hurry inside, sweetie, before the raiders come." You hear a mother say, ushering her child inside their car, her tone laced with worry as she made sure the doors were closed shut. "We don't want to be around when they capture the bad people."

Capturing bad people, huh. Even hearing the phrase was distasteful. One wouldn't expect for a government that's supposed to protect its citizens to go around doing something as inhumane as capturing someone and imprisoning them despite having done nothing wrong, and branding these victims as bad people just because they were forced into their situation.

Your thoughts fill with worry and the heavy feeling in your chest worsens. You're not sure whether this was the usual looming threat of having your life endangered, or the effect of having left your fiance's side after a huge argument. Part of you knows it's the latter.

"Soobin.." You sigh, your chest not feeling any lighter as you did. Scenes from earlier replay in your mind and you silently wish things had gone differently.

The walk home was quiet. Not a lot of people were wandering around at night anymore, even the questionable individuals that once littered the darker streets and alleys. Whether this was a good thing or not was up to how much the whole situation affected an individual.

In the more populated neighborhoods, the lights would be dimmed, the curtains drawn, the gates closed, and the windows locked shut. The clean asphalt beneath your feet soon met with bits and pieces of rubbish as you reach the farthest back of the neighborhood. The place was dark with most of the streetlight broken. You'd think that after a year, at least most of them would've been fixed but the government had a more important investment to focus on than providing their citizens the bare minimum security they at least deserve.

A creaking sound from the dark alerts your senses. Your hands come up in front as balled fists as you take a defensive stance, reminding yourself that if ever worse comes to worst, you had a dagger hidden in your pocket.

You make a quick scan of your surroundings, taking notice of every minute movement and sound your senses could pick up. No one. You'd like to think you were just being paranoid but you never know what might happen. Your heart beats faster in your chest as you go through ever possible scenario that might happen to you, or worse— to Soobin.

"Come out and face me!" You scream. Even if no one was there, no other person was living in this neighborhood that would bother to report a screaming maniac marching around their streets.

A few minutes pass and after checking each and every nearby nook and cranny, you slowly let your guard down. Perhaps you truly were just being paranoid. But who could blame you? The past few months hadn't exactly been the best. You've been in a lot of awful situations from having to hide for a week inside an abandoned theme park cave to nearly beating someone to death over food rations if Soobin hadn't stopped you.

It all started when one day, a phenomenon struck the city. Hundreds of people were turning up, reporting that they've been experiencing strange things with their body and surroundings. Eventually, it was discovered that they had somehow acquired the ability to manipulate the elements. The whole situation looked like it came straight out of a fantasy novel. But this wasn't your average story where the gifted ones get to go on crazy adventures to fulfill or prevent some messed up destiny. Quite the opposite actually.

The citizens with newfound abilities were tracked down to the ends of the city and captured. The government released a statement on how these citizens are no longer human. They were branded as monsters with uncontrollable powers that were planted in the city to harm the citizens, and eventually, the world.

They proposed a solution to lockdown the city in order to prevent the escape of these monstrous individuals and that they'd clear the streets at night from any and every individual who is suspected of possessing such abilities. Soon after, people were disappearing left and right. No one had been spared. They'd captured adults, teenagers, the elderly, and even children as young as a year old, and brought them into the holding facilities. Reports state that they were simply being held captive to enforce the necessary safety measures, but you knew all too well that they didn't stop there.

Experiments. They'd never admit to it but those that were heavily affected by these regulations knew that behind closed doors were vicious experiments being held in order to find a way to utilize these abilities for the government's advantage. One way to avoid this fate was to keep out of the prying eyes of the raiders, the ones in charge of finding and capturing the ability users.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes widen and you snap back to your senses, whirling around to see a familiar pair of eyes staring back at you.

"Y/N.." In an instant, you were engulfed in a tight hug. You feel his warmth slowly being passed down to you and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to melt in his arms. "You're safe.. I was so worried.."

You look up at none other than your fiancé, Soobin. Now that he was closer, you could see the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. It was clear that he'd been worried sick, and you were the same. A feeling of regret washes over you for ever leaving his side and causing him this much worry.

"Soobin, I—" You pause, forcing yourself out of his arms to look at the surroundings. "Let's talk inside. It's not safe out here."

Soobin nods, adjusting his hoodie as the two of you walk back inside your temporary base. The two of you had escaped into the lesser populated areas of the city to avoid public eye. You couldn't risk being seen by anyone at this state. Despite the government's unprecedented tactics, you hated to admit that they were right about one thing— most of the ability users couldn't control their powers, and unfortunately, Soobin was one of them.

Soobin paces back and forth in the living room, his mind racing with thoughts of worry. What if you had gotten mixed up into something dangerous while you were out? What if they had falsely accused you as an ability user? He wanted to scream the frustration out of his system, but he knew it wouldn't do him any good.

He regretted it. He regretted ever arguing with you in the first place. It wasn't even worth the risk of endangering both of you.

Soobin hated his newfound powers, hated how he had to hide in the slums of the city to stay alive, hated how he could never go out to see the world without putting his life at risk, and hated how you could only do so much to console him. How would you, an ordinary person, be able to relate to his worries? Eventually, he grew envious of how you could leave the house even if it was only to purchase groceries at a nearby store, and how you could bask in the warmth of the sun without having to worry about your abilities going berserk. All that pent-up emotion ended up with a huge fight. And eventually, you stormed out of the house.

Soobin had only come to terms with himself after watching you yell out in frustration before slamming the door behind and leaving.

It was you who had been by his side throughout everything. You didn't have a reason to hide, but you moved into the back of the city with him and catered to his every need. You held his hand at night when he feared he might go crazy in his sleep, and had been patient and understanding with him whenever his powers went haywire. You had protected him even when he insisted on being able to protect himself, and went to vast lengths to help him make it through until the end. Not once did you waver in front of him, and he felt so ashamed. How could he have let all those negative thoughts cloud his judgement?

Even now that he had risked his life and went outside to find you, he felt the regret deep inside his chest. Even now that he held you safely in his arms in the middle of the street, he couldn't let it go.

"Let's talk inside. It's not safe here."

Inside. It was for the best. "Okay."

It felt safer inside the house. The dim light coming from the living room lamp, thick walls, and drawn curtains brought on a familiar sense of comfort. Soobin had taken off his hoodie and tossed it aside, leaving him in his favorite loose white shirt. One thing you've come to notice even before your engagement was that he wore that specific shirt whenever he wanted some room to breathe. You hoped that he's had a good amount of that when you'd left him alone earlier.

Soobin makes himself comfortable on the couch next to the window, patting the spot next to him. You refrain from taking his offer. "Soobin, about earlier.."

“I'm sorry.” / “I'm sorry.”

Soobin looks up at you, blinking, and the two of you burst into laughter. After a while, he clears his throat and speaks up. You lean against the counter to hear him out. "You know, it's funny. Earlier I had this whole apology planned out in my head explaining everything— why I said all that stuff, and how I regret every single word. I wanted you to maybe understand where I'm coming from and how sorry I am but.." His eyes once again meet yours and as if a silent message had been conveyed, Soobin smiles. "Somehow, I feel like you already know."

You smile back, finally taking up his offer and plopping down right next to him on the couch. You rest your head on Soobin's shoulder, and he does the same. The warmth of his hand spreads throughout yours as he interlocks your fingers, bringing them close to your faces. The edge of your engagement rings glisten against the dim light, a promise of eternity with each other that would soon be sealed. An eternity in each other's embrace.

Before all of this had started, you had spent countless nights like this with Soobin, balled up together on the sofa or bed, and enjoying the warmth in each other's arms. Now, you'd barely spent the nights together. Rules had been established to keep you two safe from the prying eyes of the government, and naturally, there were also rules you'd agreed on to keep each other safe. One of those rules was that you couldn't sleep on the same bed. Soobin had no control of his powers and feared that he might hurt you in his sleep. You had tried it out once during the first week, ignoring the possibility. It didn't end well.

A knock on the front door breaks the silence in the room.

Soobin pulls you closer in his arms, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. A frown creeps up his lips as he leaned in closer to your face. “I know what you're thinking but please listen to me—”

“Soobin..” You look him in the eyes, holding his hand tighter. “I heard a noise on the way back. I think I might have been followed.”

Another knock sounds from the door, sounding more impatient than before

“In that case, I want you to stay behind.” Soobin says, letting go of your hand as he gets up from the couch.

“What? Why?” You follow right after, blocking Soobin's path to the door.

“You said you were being followed. If it's a raider then it couldn't have followed you to get to me when I haven't been outside in a long time.” Soobin sighs, walking around you. It wasn't news that raiders would falsely accuse random citizens as ability users for some short-term glory of having allegedly protected the city from these monsters. “I have a bad feeling about this, Y/N. I don't want you getting hurt.”

“And I don't want them to capture you.”

“They won't.”

“Soobin, please listen to me. You can't control your abilities yet. What if—” You were about to run after him when you notice you couldn't move. You look down and see that your feet had been bound to the ground by chains of ice. Since when had Soobin gained this much control over his powers? was the first thought that came to mind. He'd been training for a while but the results have been rather unhelpful. But not this time.

Soobin wasn't sure when he'd started feeling confident about his abilities, but he's sure of one thing. He'd use his abilities to protect what matters to him the most: you.

“Is someone there?” He asks before opening the door, heart thumping in his chest as he waited for an answer.

“Raid officer. I'm here to have a word, if I may.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Justice sleeps for no one, sir.”

Justice. Soobin holds his breath as he opens the door, preparing himself for the worst. He comes face to face with a young man around his age— blond hair, clean and kempt raider uniform— he didn't look like the type to be fooled easily.

“What brings you here this late at night, officer?”

The officer smiles, straightening himself up. “Sorry for the disturbance. I'm Officer Kang Taehyun, and that's my partner, Choi Yeonjun.” He points at a pink haired officer with unkempt uniform, leaning against their motorbikes. “We'd like to ask you a few questions.”

Soobin agrees to their request, fully stepping out of the house.

“Full name?”

"That's.." Soobin hesitates, pondering whether he should tell him his real name or not. He notices the folder Taehyun was holding, and figured that the Officer might have already known his identity. He was testing him. “Choi Soobin.”

“A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Choi Soobin. You live alone?”

“Yes.”

The officer raises a brow. “I see. Any visitors over? A relative, or perhaps a lover?”

Soobin's heart races. He could spot the officer's partner at the back, preparing hid gear. He didn't like where this was going. “No.”

"Is that so?" The officer, Taehyun, breaks into a smile— cold, unsettling. He wonders if this smile was the last others have seen before getting sent straight to the facilities.

"This side of the neighborhood is pretty quiet, don't you think? No one else is living here except you."

"This place certainly has its charms." Soobin shrugs, trying his best to drive away suspicion. "I don't mind living alone and the groceries aren't that far from here anyway."

Officer Yeonjun steps in, gear in place and face unreadable. He nudges Taehyun to the side and takes over the conversation. "Listen, we'll make this quick for you. My partner and I spotted a suspicious woman walking around this area. No one else is living here except you. Do you know anything about her?"

There it was. Soobin supposes he couldn't have avoided the question any longer. "No, I don't. I haven't seen anyone nearby either. I was here at home the entire night, making dinner."

"I see." Yeonjun nods, his hand slowly reaching for something in his pocket. "You seem like a pretty agreeable guy. I'm sure you wouldn't mind if we checked inside to see if you're telling the truth."

"Not at all." Soobin grins, opening the door wider. It's not like he could refuse them in the first place. Raiders had been given the authority to search any premises without a warrant. He just hopes you had half a mind to hide yourself by now.

And you did. Both of you had prepared the house for circumstances like this. There was a trap door in the living room where you could hide in the case of an emergency. Soobin had melted the ice once Officer Yeonjun stepped in, and that was enough of a signal for you to hide. You couldn't afford to put Soobin in any more risk than he was already in.

Heavy footsteps liter the living room. Two, no, three pairs? That meant the two officers had gone inside with Soobin.

"Mr. Choi, would you mind showing my partner upstairs?"

"Of course."

You feel your pulse start to race. Soobin being alone with a raider was putting them in a stickier situation. If he loses control at any moment, this could mean the end of their lives. You couldn't help but peek through the hole on the floorboard. Only the pink haired officer was left behind to search the living room. You try to breathe quieter, hoping he wouldn't notice your presence.

The officer brings his hand to his ear, head shifting around as if making sure there weren't any witnesses.

"What is he doing?" You think to yourself, bracing for the worst.

"Taehyun's got him cornered upstairs. The girl isn't here. We'll proceed as planned."

You hold back a gasp and stumble back. A loud thump sounds upstairs followed by a glass shattering. Soobin!

The officer hears the noise and sighs, smashing his communicator onto the ground. He crouches down onto the floorboard and knocks twice. "Hey, I know you're there. Listen to me."

You don't respond, shock and fear stopping you from even breathing.

"This may be too much to ask, but please trust me. I'm part of the anti-faction unit that's here to support the ability users. My partner will capture your boyfriend and bring him to the facilities and I don't have a choice but to help him. I'll report you as a missing case so run away after my partner and I leave. There's no saving your boyfriend now so you could at least save yourself."

"Why are you doing this? Why can't you just save him?" You choke on your words, anger slowly rising. If he was here as an undercover agent then he could've at least saved Soobin.

"It's loo late. The facility's had an eye on him for months. If I do anything now, my cover would be blown. I can't have that." The officer frowns. You could see his fallen expression through the hole but that wasn't enough to calm you down.

"And I can't have Soobin getting killed." You snarl, hands balling into fists.

"He won't." The officer says before standing up. "They'll be down soon. Just do as I say and save yourself."

You feel your blood boiling. They knew Soobin was an ability user from the start and had used you as an excuse to lure him in a tight spot. Abandon Soobin? Not a chance. You didn't abandon him back then and you were sure as hell you wouldn't be abandoning him now when he needed you most.

"Move."

"Hm?"

The trap door had enough space to hide in, but that also meant you had enough space to make a running start. "I said move." You ram against the floorboard, knocking Yeonjun off and bursting the door open.

You were free.

"Soobin! Get out of there!" You scream the moment you got out, running as fast as your legs could carry you towards the stairs.

"Are you crazy?!" Yeonjun runs after you, breath hitching as he manages to grab your leg. "You could get killed!"

You kick Yeonjun's hand, causing him to stumble behind. "Soobin!" You scream, dashing upstairs. You make a sharp turn towards his bedroom and find him down on the floor, blood dripping from his hands.

Soobin looks at you, tears threatening to prick his eyes. "Y/N, get away from here!"

"Soobin.." Your gaze shifts from his worried eyes to Officer Taehyun's cold ones, looking at you like you were as significant as a tiny insect. It was only then that you realized what a mess the place was. The book case had been knocked over, sending the books scattering around the room. A huge spear of ice had bursted from the ground and crashed onto the glass window, coming in between Soobin and the officer.

"So, you were here all along?" Officer Taehyun scoffs, his tone as cold as his expression.

"Y/N, stand back. I'll handle this." Soobin tells you, wincing as he holds a hand towards the officer.

"You can't do anything to me." Taehyun smirks, crossing his arms. "You used up all your energy making this freak ice appear and for what? To buy time? You're the type who loses energy while using your abilities, so why not stop now?" You see him glance your way before snickering. "Is it the girl? Do monsters even have time for love?"

"Might want to check in the mirror." You slowly inch towards Soobin's side. "Who's the monster here? A guy who's just trying to live his life quietly, or the one who's had innocent blood spilled in his hands for countless nights?"

Taehyun's amused expression falls. "Last time I checked, none of them were innocent. And I'm not the one who conjured ice from the ground to harm an officer. Normal humans don't do that shit. Monsters do. Isn't that right, Yeonjun?"

Before you knew it, you were pinned to the ground. Yeonjun had crept up on you from behind while you were distracted.

"Y/N!" Soobin rushes after you but stops as Yeonjun takes out a knife and puts it to your neck.

"Move and I'll cut her." Yeonjun spits out his empty threats. You knew he wouldn't harm you. He just wanted to get out of this mess as fast as possible.

Soobin clicks his tongue, lowering his hands in defeat. Taehyun finds himself smiling at the entire situation. "There you go. And just when I thought you'd lost your common sense."

He walks over to Soobin, carefully maneuvering through the ice and shards of glass. "Come with us quietly, and we'll set her free. No scratches, no anything. Do we have a deal?" He takes out specialized handcuffs used to detain ability users and twirls it around his fingers.

"Don't! Soobin, please! There must be another way!" You scream, trying to break free from Yeonjun's hold but that only made him pin you down harder.

Soobin looks back at you and then at Taehyun, shedding a tear as he holds his hands out in front. "Keep your end of the deal. I surrender."

"No!"

"Quiet." Yeonjun puts the blade back into his pockets and puts his hand over your mouth. "Mmf!"

You felt powerless as you watch Soobin get handcuffed, his eyes never leaving yours— taking in your face one last time. "I'm sorry." He whispers.

"Oh, and for safety measure." Taehyun hums as he takes out a tranquilizer needle, stabbing Soobin on the neck. Soobin's falls on the ground, unconscious. "You can't be too careful with these monsters." Taehyun chuckles, bending down and hoisting Soobin up in his shoulders. He walks over to you and Yeonjun, leaving behind a few instructions for his partner. "Release her when I give the signal."

"My communicator's broken."

Taehyun raises a brow.

"It fell and got stepped on when this chick came out of nowhere and ambushed me."

Taehyun sighs. "I suppose we don't have a choice. Use my communicator." He uses his free hand to hand Yeonjun his communicator.

Yeonjun holds it in his hand and nods. You try to look over the door towards Soobin, but they were long gone. Yeonjun notices this and bends down, whispering.

"Listen. The plans have changed." He holds out Taehyun's communicator in front of you and smashes it to the ground. "Taehyun has no means of contacting the others for backup, and they can't hear us from where they're parked. We might be able to save Soobin." He loosens his grip and lets you go.

"What made you change your mind?"

Yeonjun sighs, helping you up. "We actually have a fighting chance now if we work together."

"What do you mean?"

"It's gonna take Taehyun a while to sort through the mess blocking the door."

"Mess? What mess?" And then it hit you. "You missed it up on purpose." That's why it took him so long to catch up.

Yeonjun takes out a gun from his holster and cocks it. "Listen carefully. We don't have a lot of time. Taehyun's has his guard down right now. I'm gonna sneak up to him and shoot hid arm that's holding Soobin. As soon as he drops him, I want you to grab Soobin and take him to the back. I'll meet you there."

You didn't exactly trust the guy but you weren't in a situation to be picky. "Fine."

"On my signal." Yeonjun whispers, taking a step forward from your hiding spot.

The plan sets in motion. The two of you sneak downstairs, peeking at Taehyun who's trying to sift through the broken furniture with one hand.

"Wow, looks like the girl got away. My bad."

"What are you—"

Yeonjun pulls the trigger before Taehyun could turn around, hitting the heel on his right leg.

"Shit!" Taehyun winces in pain. He reaches for his gun but Yeonjun was faster, shooting two other bullets through his other leg and his shoulder that's holding Soobin. He drops Soobin to the ground with a thud.

Yeonjun turns to you. "Now!"

You sprint towards Soobin's body, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Hold it right there." Taehyun pulls out a knife and holds it towards Soobin's throat. "One step closer and I'll kill him. Even if that traitor shoots me, I'll just use the last of my energy to slash his throat. You don't want that now, do you?" The look in Taehyun's eyes infuriated you. He looked so confident that you wouldn't dare take another step further, none of you would. And he was right.

Your eyes fall upon Soobin, your heart squeezing in your chest at the thought of losing him. All you could hope for was a miracle. To hell, it didn't even need to be a miracle. It could be a tragedy, a curse, whatever. Just let Soobin return safely in your arms.

You feel your hands heating up despite the cool air rushing inside from the open windows. A warm sensation fills your chest and you gasp for air. Taehyun and Yeonjun observe as you grip your stomach. You feel like throwing up. It felt like you've lost all control in your body. You were sweating from the heat, and the world looked like it was spinning out of control. Your vision clouds until a bright light flashes, stunning you for a brief moment.

"What's wrong with you?"

Your attention shifts towards Taehyun who'd spoken and all you could see was red. "Let him go."

Taehyun tightens his grip on the handle. "I didn't know this monster's life meant so little to you."

"Sorry to break it to you, but his worth is immeasurable in my eyes. I'd do anything for him." You narrow your eyes at his face. "Even if it meant I'd have to spill blood in my hands."

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Yeonjun asks, his tone laced with worry.

"Committing a murder." You answer, not bothering to look at him. "But not a crime."

In a split-second, the door behind Taehyun explodes, the flaming debris piercing Taehyun straight in the chest, miraculously missing Soobin. Taehyun's lifeless body falls onto the ground and Yeonjun takes cover from the explosion. You stay plotted at the same spot, scratches littering your sides as you nearly miss the flying debris. The fire slowly spreads throughout the living room and your legs give in as you drop to the floor.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, your arms instinctively reaching towards Soobin. Drained seemed like an understatement. You could barely move. It was as if all the energy you had earlier had been sucked out of your body.

"Y/N, get a hold of yourself!" Yeonjun rushes towards your side as soon as the coast was clear. "We have to get out of here!"

The world around you darkens and your mind turns blank. You couldn't even think at this point. Soobin was right in front of you yet nothing of what has happened has processed in your head. In the end, all you could do was stare at his face as hot tears spilled from your eyes.

"Snap out of it!"

You feel a stinging sensation coming from your cheek and you look up at Yeonjun. The air rushes back up your lungs and you gasp.

"Listen to me. We need to get out of here right now. If the fire spreads throughout the house, we're done for. We either die in flames or be killed once the backup finds us. Can you walk?"

"Yeah.. I think I can." You try your best to answer. He helps you on your feet before rushing towards Soobin.

Yeonjun stumbles as he hoists Soobin onto his back. He looks at you, eyes determined. "We managed to escape now, but who knows what'll happen next. What do we do now?"

In the end, it all came down to this. Wherever you went, it was all the same. You and Soobin have suffered too much, and it was time to put an end to it. Strangely enough, the flames that had swallowed your living room didn't make you afraid. It made you feel powerful— powerful enough to make a change.

"I don't want to cower in fear anymore." You lock eyes with Yeonjun who earnestly gangs on to your every word. "We've hidden ourselves in the darkness in fear of being captured but I think it's time we use the what we're familiar with to fight them off— use the darkness to turn against our oppressors."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Yeonjun settles right next to you.

You face your resolve, reaching your hand to caress Soobin's sleeping face. "For now.."

"We run to the shadows."

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

September 5, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

On March 25, 1911, Frances Perkins was visiting with a friend who lived near Washington Square in New York City when they heard fire engines and people screaming. They rushed out to the street to see what the trouble was. A fire had broken out in a garment factory on the upper floors of a building on Washington Square, and the blaze ripped through the lint in the air. The only way out was down the elevator, which had been abandoned at the base of its shaft, or through an exit to the roof. But the factory owner had locked the roof exit that day because, he later testified, he was worried some of his workers might steal some of the blouses they were making.

“The people had just begun to jump when we got there,” Perkins later recalled. “They had been holding until that time, standing in the windowsills, being crowded by others behind them, the fire pressing closer and closer, the smoke closer and closer. Finally the men were trying to get out this thing that the firemen carry with them, a net to catch people if they do jump, the[y] were trying to get that out and they couldn’t wait any longer. They began to jump. The… weight of the bodies was so great, at the speed at which they were traveling that they broke through the net. Every one of them was killed, everybody who jumped was killed. It was a horrifying spectacle.”

By the time the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire was out, 147 young people were dead, either from their fall from the factory windows or from smoke inhalation.

Perkins had few illusions about industrial America: she had worked in a settlement house in an impoverished immigrant neighborhood in Chicago and was the head of the New York office of the National Consumers League, urging consumers to use their buying power to demand better conditions and wages for workers. But even she was shocked by the scene she witnessed on March 25.

By the next day, New Yorkers were gathering to talk about what had happened on their watch. “I can't begin to tell you how disturbed the people were everywhere,” Perkins said. “It was as though we had all done something wrong. It shouldn't have been. We were sorry…. We didn't want it that way. We hadn’t intended to have 147 girls and boys killed in a factory. It was a terrible thing for the people of the City of New York and the State of New York to face.”

The Democratic majority leader in the New York legislature, Al Smith—who would a few years later go on to four terms as New York governor and become the Democratic presidential nominee in 1928—went to visit the families of the dead to express his sympathy and his grief. “It was a human, decent, natural thing to do,” Perkins said, “and it was a sight he never forgot. It burned it into his mind. He also got to the morgue, I remember, at just the time when the survivors were being allowed to sort out the dead and see who was theirs and who could be recognized. He went along with a number of others to the morgue to support and help, you know, the old father or the sorrowing sister, do her terrible picking out.”

“This was the kind of shock that we all had,” Perkins remembered.

The next Sunday, concerned New Yorkers met at the Metropolitan Opera House with the conviction that “something must be done. We've got to turn this into some kind of victory, some kind of constructive action….” One man contributed $25,000 to fund citizens’ action to “make sure that this kind of thing can never happen again.”

The gathering appointed a committee, which asked the legislature to create a bipartisan commission to figure out how to improve fire safety in factories. For four years, Frances Perkins was their chief investigator.

She later explained that although their mission was to stop factory fires, “we went on and kept expanding the function of the commission 'till it came to be the report on sanitary conditions and to provide for their removal and to report all kinds of unsafe conditions and then to report all kinds of human conditions that were unfavorable to the employees, including long hours, including low wages, including the labor of children, including the overwork of women, including homework put out by the factories to be taken home by the women. It included almost everything you could think of that had been in agitation for years. We were authorized to investigate and report and recommend action on all these subjects.”

And they did. Al Smith was the speaker of the house when they published their report, and soon would become governor. Much of what the commission recommended became law.

Perkins later mused that perhaps the new legislation to protect workers had in some way paid the debt society owed to the young people, dead at the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire. “The extent to which this legislation in New York marked a change in American political attitudes and policies toward social responsibility can scarcely be overrated,” she said. “It was, I am convinced, a turning point.”

But she was not done. In 1919, over the fervent objections of men, Governor Smith appointed Perkins to the New York State Industrial Commission to help weed out the corruption that was weakening the new laws. She continued to be one of his closest advisers on labor issues. In 1929, when Franklin Delano Roosevelt replaced Smith as New York governor, he appointed Perkins to oversee the state’s labor department as the Depression worsened. When President Herbert Hoover claimed that unemployment was ending, Perkins made national news when she repeatedly called him out with figures proving the opposite and said his “misleading statements” were “cruel and irresponsible.” She began to work with leaders from other states to figure out how to protect workers and promote employment by working together.

In 1933, after the people had rejected Hoover’s plan to let the Depression burn itself out, President-elect Roosevelt asked Perkins to serve as Secretary of Labor in his administration. She accepted only on the condition that he back her goals: unemployment insurance; health insurance; old-age insurance, a 40-hour work week; a minimum wage; and abolition of child labor. She later recalled: “I remember he looked so startled, and he said, ‘Well, do you think it can be done?’”

She promised to find out.

Once in office, Perkins was a driving force behind the administration’s massive investment in public works projects to get people back to work. She urged the government to spend $3.3 billion on schools, roads, housing, and post offices. Those projects employed more than a million people in 1934.

In 1935, FDR signed the Social Security Act, providing ordinary Americans with unemployment insurance; aid to homeless, dependent, and neglected children; funds to promote maternal and child welfare; and public health services.

In 1938, Congress passed the Fair Labor Standards Act, which established a minimum wage and maximum hours. It banned child labor.

Frances Perkins, and all those who worked with her, transformed the horror of the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire into the heart of our nation’s basic social safety net.

“There is always a large horizon…. There is much to be done,” Perkins said. “It is up to you to contribute some small part to a program of human betterment for all time.”

Happy Labor Day, everyone.

—-

Notes:

https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045462/1933-02-19/ed-1/seq-23/

https://francesperkinscenter.org/life-new/

https://trianglefire.ilr.cornell.edu/primary/lectures/

https://www.ssa.gov/history/perkins5.html

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 1 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream? 

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox) 

Warnings: mentions of death, the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one. 

Chapter One

~|Emily Fox| ~

As a seventeen-year-old, you should not be left to your devices. Unless you have no other choice. When you have a dream your parents have called unrealistic without ever listening to what you were actually capable of, you have no other choice but to move out and fend for yourself. Thankfully, I can stay with Uncle Mitch for a while until I’m off to college.  Since leaving my parents’ house at fourteen, my life has consisted of high school, working at the music store, write songs – if I have the time –, help Uncle Mitch around the house, sleep, repeat. It’s been a chore. But I just about manage. 

“Please, don’t touch the guitars without a supervisor, ma’am!” I say loudly from across the shop as I catch her hands rising up to pick up one of the acoustic guitars hanging on the wall for display. I rush over to her, dodging clients testing out guitars and pianos I’ve helped before. While the forty-something woman stares at me with an intense glare, I pick up the Gibson guitar for her and hand it over, offering her my fakest smile. “This one’s a nice one!” I tell her as she handles the guitar very clumsily, nearly dropping it. “What do you know about guitars?” she snarls at me. “Well, for starters, I work here, so I’m supposed to have some knowledge about guitars. Secondly, this is a bass guitar. Never just call a bass a guitar.” The woman rolls her eyes and when she casts her gaze on the strings, I roll mine. I’ve had my share of forty-something old women coming in here to buy something for their spoiled little sons, pretending they know more about guitars of any kind, pianos and drums while I have been brought up listening to Uncle Robert talking non-stop about all of his instruments. He taught me how to play each and every one of the instruments and brought me into the world of rock. If he were still here, I wouldn’t be working in a music store, trying to pay for my own apartment or my college tuition. He believed in me from the second he heard me sing and play piano. He still believes in me, I can feel it. Staying with Uncle Mitch – Uncle Robert’s husband, now widower, has been a lot more healing than it would’ve been if I still lived at my parents’. “I know that,” she grumbles, then looks back up at me. “If you know so much about everything, you little know-it-all, why don’t you tell me something more about this one?” I refrain myself from rolling my eyes again, and instead ball up my fists to put all of my anger there. “This is the Les Paul Junior Tribute DC bass. It’s actually a tribute to the historic Gibson EB-0 bass from the late 50's, but with modern features. The short scale length is actually chosen by many for its strong fundamental tone and sits perfectly in a track when recording. The mahogany double cutaway body and maple neck with rosewood fingerboard balances perfectly when playing either sitting or strapped on. It's equipped with a single expanded range LP BassBucker pickup with single volume and tone controls for simplicity. The volume pot has a push-pull feature to coil tap the pickup scooping the mids for further tone shaping possibilities.” I’ve explained this many a times, so it almost sounds as if I’ve learned it by heart. “Oh! And it comes in four different finishes; Worn Ebony, Worn Cherry, Blue Stain and Worn Brown.” The woman looks at me, clearly impressed at my knowledge of the bass in her hands. I’m pretty sure I could’ve told her anything and she would’ve believed me. “I want to speak to the manager,” she then says and pushes the bass guitar back in my hands as if handling a cardboard box. If my reflexes weren’t what they are now, we would’ve had a broken bass and I would be the one that had to pay for it. “What for?” I ask, my anger slipping through into a vicious snarl. “Just because you learn everything by heart, doesn’t mean you’re a good salesperson.” I open my mouth to say something, but I know I can’t win against a Karen. So, instead, I plaster on my best fake smile and say “Of course, give me a second.” I turn on my heel and make my way back to the cash register to get Ash, my manager who’s been nothing but an absolute gem to me. She wasn’t looking for any employees, but still hired me when she saw how desperate I was and how good I was with the instruments. She even lets me write songs after hours. “Karen alert?” Ash asks when she sees my annoyed face, at the brim of exploding. “Yep, at the bass guitars,” I tell her and take her spot to handle a paying costumer. Ash hops over the counter and makes her way to the Karen at the bass guitars. Only for her to leave the store in an angered rush without any bass guitar for her precious son. “That’s 44 dollars and 97 cents, please,” I tell the guy who’d come in for guitar strings, picks and some polish. He looks about my age. Dark hair gelled back, green almond-shaped eyes and rosy cheeks. He hands me the cash with a cute, nervous smile. “Thank you! And here’s the three cents change,” I hold out my hand for him to take the three cents, but he shakes his head. “Keep it,” he winks at me before grabbing his purchases and leaving the store. Leaving me all flustered and blushing. I hate when cute boys come to the shop and have the audacity to do this stuff to me. UGH. “Got rid of our Karen,” Ash tells me, “You can get back out there. I think the little girl over there at the piano could use some of your expertise.” She points to a fourteen-year-old gliding her fingers along the big wing of the white piano in the middle of our store. “Hi,” I say as I approach her, making her jump slightly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Emily. Can I help you?” She scans my face for a moment, as if assessing whether or not I’m trustworthy. I guess she decides she does when she opens her mouth and four simple words flow out of it. “Do you play piano?” I’m a bit taken aback by the question. None of the costumers have ever asked me that question. “Yes, I do, actually,” I reply honestly. “I want to learn how to play the piano, but my mother doesn’t allow me. Says it’s too expensive. The piano, that is. And lessons are expensive too, she says.” She stops talking for a moment as if thinking about what to say next. “Will you teach me?” “Oh,” I manage to bring out, “I—we don’t really offer any piano lessons in the store. We just sell them.” Her eyes water and she visibly swallows a lump in her throat. “Okay…” she whimpers, making my heart break just that bit more. “Will you play me a song though? I love hearing people play.” I take a deep breath as I think about how to turn this girl down. But then I remember my parents turning me and my dreams down. “Sure, I can play you a song. Any requests?” I ask as I sit down on the stool in front of us, patting beside me to invite her too. “Surprise me,” she says, shaking her head with a big smile on her face. I carefully touch the keys as I think of a song to sing. Once I’ve figured that out, I begin to play the right melody and then chime in with the lyrics I’d written with Uncle Robert when he was still alive. The song I cherish the most and wouldn’t share with anyone. But this girl reminds me too much of myself, and I think she might take something from the message. “Here's the one thing I want you to know You got someplace to go Life's a test, yes But you go toe to toe You don't give up, no, you grow.” The girl looks up at me with big Bambi eyes, urging me to continue. “And you use your pain Cause it makes you you Though I wish I could hold you through it I know it's not the same You got living to do And I just want you to do it So get up, get out, relight that spark You know the rest by heart” As I begin the chorus, I hear drums backing me up from somewhere inside the store, and when I look around, I find Ash behind a drum set with a smile on her face as she helps me out a little. “Wake up, wake up, if it's all you do Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost, it's what you'll gain Raising your voice to the rain Wake up your dream and make it true Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost Relight that spark Time to come out of the dark Wake up, wake up” By now, Ash and I have gained an audience. Most of the costumers in line don’t even mind having to wait to pay until we’re done with this outburst of ours. “Better wake those demons, just look them in the eye No reason not to try Life can be a mess, I won't let it cloud my mind I'll let my fingers fly” The girl next to me still has the same expression on her face. Eyes pooled with admiration and inspiration. Exactly the reason why I make music and why it’s been a dream of mine to make a career out of it. “And I use the pain 'cause it's part of me And I'm ready to power through it Gonna find the strength, find the melody 'Cause you showed me how to do it Get up, get out, relight that spark You know the rest by heart” I go for the chorus again, and then pop in with the bridge. The one I added to uncle’s song. The costumers in the store stare at Ash and me with smiles on their faces whilst swaying along to the song. “So wake that spirit, spirit I wanna hear it, hear it No need to fear it, you're not alone You're gonna find your way home” I close my eyes as I hit that high note, then stop playing for a second whilst starting the chorus for the last time. Even Ash backs me up with some backing vocals after having heard the chorus a couple of times already. “Wake up, wake up, if it's all you do” The both of us pick up the melody again, putting more power behind the rest of the song. “Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost, it's what you'll gain Raising your voice to the rain Wake up your dream and make it true Look out, look inside of you When you're feeling lost Relight that spark Time to come out of the dark Wake up, wake up” I hit the last couple of notes on the piano before a roar of applause and cheers fills up the entire store. The fourteen-year-old beside me is clapping the loudest of them all. Her eyes still wide and admiring and full of life. “What’s your name?” I ask the girl, causing her to stop clapping. “Kayla,” she replies. “Listen to me, Kayla. Even if your parents don’t agree with your big dreams, please, never give up on your dream! If this is really what you want to do, go for it. You’ll find a way, I promise you.” A tear rolls down her pink cheek as her bottom lip trembles slightly. “Don’t give up, okay?” She nods her head vigorously. “Thank you, Emily!” she wraps her arms around me into a tight hug before hopping off the stool and rushing out the store. As I watch her run out, my eyes land on a guy. Somewhat my age, I think. I can’t really function for a second as his hazel eyes stare at me and with his mouth curled up on one side. When I finally manage to move again, my eyes scan him entirely. His brown hair sticks out from underneath an orange beanie, his nose fine and cheekbones defined. He’s wearing a flannel shirt over a grey muscle tank and ripped black jeans. I give him an awkward smile before heading back to the cash register. “Can you do register for a moment? I need to check something in stock,” Ash asks me, and I simply nod before helping the next costumer. After the fifth costumer, the boy who’d been staring at me before shows up in front of me. “How can I help?” I ask with my best customer service-smile. “By giving your number,” he replies coyly. I was going to give him the cute boy card until those words came out of his mouth. “Sorry, my number ain’t for sale,” I reply and look behind him, “Next!” “Oh, no, sorry! Uhm, I don’t mean it like that, I—” Before he can mutter another word, I interrupt him. “Are you going to purchase something, bro?” He opens his mouth, then closes it again, looking like a goldfish. “Uhm… No… I just—” I interrupt him again. “Next customer, please,” I stare at him intensely, hoping that’d chase him away. He knocks on the counter before moving away, clearly defeated by the rejection. I can’t believe douchebags like him still exists in this generation. People need to learn manners. “Hi, how can I help you?” I ask the next customer, bringing back my best smile. Just got to move on, just as I moved on from dealing with a Karen again today. Best way to do that, is focus on all the other customers. For the rest of my shift, I have not been able to shake the cute-but-rude guy from before. There’s something about him that haunts me still and I can’t seem to figure out what it is. Not even when I’m focusing on cleaning up the store. As I’m dusting the piano, I hear the bell above the door ring. “Sorry, we’re closed!” I yell without looking up from the piano. “Are you going to play again?” The voice sends shivers down my spine as it takes me right back to that one douchey line it uttered just a mere hour before. “Again, we are closed, sorry.” This time it comes out more like a snarl and with a bit of poison. The boy in front of me chuckles and holds his hands up in defeat. “Listen, I’m sorry about before, but—” he steps closer to me, but I hold up my finger to make him stop, and it seems to help as he simply freezes in place. “But the store is closed. Goodbye now.” I go back to dusting off the piano and wait for the bell to ring again, but it doesn’t. Instead, the sound of guitar strums reaches my ears. “You can’t touch any of the guitars without supervision,” I tell him sternly, but when I meet his eyes and they’re looking at me intently as if urging me to do something. “You’re supervising me, aren’t you?” he asks cockily, still stroking the strings, creating a beautiful melody that fills up my head. “What do you want?” I ask bitterly, looking at him again, and hoping it would make him leave faster. “For you to sing.” “Sing what?” He shrugs, leaving me to wonder what he means by that. “I have a lot of work to do, dude. Please, leave,” I sound pathetic, nearly begging him to leave. I’m only a step away from begging on my knees. The sound of the guitar abruptly stops when I go back to cleaning the piano. “Listen, I just wanted to tell you that what you did earlier today was amazing. You know, not a lot of people have the power you have. Did you see what you did to all those people in here? Imagine doing that for thousands of people! Have you ever thought of that?” I turn to look at him, suddenly having the urge to tell him everything. Then I remember what a douchebag he really is. “I don’t have time for this. Please. Leave!” I shout at him before heading towards the cash register to start counting the money. It’s silent for a while until the bell over the door breaks it. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. This boy did something to me without me even realizing it. Nope. Can’t trust boys. They don’t do anything but break hearts and be douchebags. But this one somehow seemed different. No other boy has ever left such an impression as he did. And I didn’t even have a proper conversation with him. I just hope I don’t have to see him. Like ever again.  

[mersuperwholocked-lowlife]

Family Is Overrated

Word Count: 1,687

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader, Jody Mills (brief), Bucky Sims, Lorraine Fox, Alicia & Max (brief)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst

A/N: uhm.... it’s here, sorry it’s bad lol haha i suck

A/N 2: this is part two of Ace!

A/N 3: Based off of Season 12, Episode 6, Celebrating The Life of Asa Fox

Masterlist   Ace

“Who’s gonna tell Jody?” you asked, standing around with Lorraine and Bucky.

“I don’t know,” Bucky sighed.

“Well, someone does. She was his closet friend,” you looked at him.

“I can’t do this,” Lorraine’s eyes watered up.

“I know, I’m so sorry for your loss, Lorraine. If you need any help….” you gave her a sorrowful look.

“Will you plan the funeral?” she asked you.

You knew you couldn’t say no. After everything Asa did for you, you needed to do this for him.

“Of course,” you nodded.

“Will you tell Jody?” Bucky turned to you.

You nodded softly.

“Thank you, dear. I know I can count on you,” her eyes watered once more.

“Of course. I’m sorry,” you wrapped your arms around her before leaving with Bucky.

“Why are you making that face, Ace?” he laughed softly.

“Asa’s gone. I knew I should've stayed with you two, it’s all my fault,” you gave him a look.

“Wasn’t your fault Ace. Mistakes were made. It was Jael’s fault,” he sighed.

“After this wake, I’m going to hunt him down. He’s dead,” 

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Bucky crosses his arms.

“Yeah, I can do it,” you shrugged.

“By yourself?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so?” you gave him a look.

“Look, no offense, Ace, but you're just a kid,” he started.

“I’m not a kid. I’m 21 for crying out loud!” you raised your voice.

“That’s still young. You’re too invested into hunting,” 

“I’m fine. You don’t know what you’re saying. Bye,” you pushed past him, getting into your car and driving off.

---

Asa was a well-known hunter in the community, everyone knew about him as everyone knew about you.

It had been years since you last saw Sam, Dean, and Jason, or talked to them.

You’ve been going around hotel to hotel, hunt to hunt, finding any hunter that needed help. It took your mind off of everything. You didn’t care about people knowing that you were a girl, or how you looked. The only thing that you kept, was who your family was and your name. People told stories about Sam and Dean, while you just stayed quiet. 

You dialed Jody’s number, getting ready to tell her about Asa. You met her many times, she was a nice person, but you didn’t know too much. You know she had two adopted daughters, both a few years younger than you, and you knew she was sheriff of Sioux Falls.

“Hey, kid. What’s up?” she picked up the phone with a cheerful voice. You felt your feelings drop, hearing how happy she sounded, and you were gonna ruin it.

“H-Hey, Jody. What’s going on?” you sniffled, taking a deep breath.

“Just have some friends over. We’re watching a movie. How was the hunt with Asa and Bucky?” she asked.

You paused, taking a deep breath.

“T-The demon…..” you started.

“The demon killed Asa,” you said softly.

You could hear her shallow breathing as your heart broke.

“Uhm, t-the wake’s today, and we’re cremating his body tomorrow. Lorraine wanted to get him out as soon as she can,” you explained.

“O-Oh,” she stuttered.

“I’m so, so sorry for your loss, Jody. I wish I could’ve saved him,” you started.

“No, no, kid. It’s not your fault. I-I’ll, uh, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she sniffled.

“Okay,” you said softly.

“Okay,” she hung up the call.

You groaned to yourself, wiping your face, getting ready to go to Lorraine’s house.

---

“Quiet down!” you yelled for what seemed like the 100th time.

Hunters were loud. Drunk hunters were louder.

You sighed, grabbing a beer.

“You Ace?” you heard a man from behind you ask.

You turned to see him talking to Bucky.

“Nope,” he shook his head.

“I don’t get it, I’ve asked every hunter here, none of them are Ace,” the man sighed.

“Well, you didn’t ask me. Nice to meet you,” you gave a sarcastic smile.

“You?” he asked in disbelief.

“Do you have a problem with that?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Just…. not what I was expecting,” he replied.

“Now, I have a question for you. Did you ask every hunter here, or did you ask every man here?” you pushed off the table, crossing your arms as he went silent.

“Didn't think a woman could be the fiercest hunter here? Do you have a problem with women?” you walked near him, watching him tense up.

You saw Bucky hold in a laugh from the corner of your eye.

“N-No, no ma’am,” he stuttered.

“That’s what I thought,” you scoffed.

“M-May I just say it’s an honor to meet you. I’ve heard the stories about you, all the great things you’ve done,” he started.

Stories?

You knew that hunters knew you, but you didn't know they told stories.

“Oh, uh, thanks…. I think?” you hesitated briefly.

“So, how did you start hunting?” he asked you.

“My mom was a hunter, and when she died I felt like I had to take on her legacy,” you explained.

“What about any other family? Like your dad? Any siblings?” he bombarded you with questions.

“Dead. My dad died when I was a kid, and my brother died some time ago,” you lied.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss,” he gave you a sad look.

“Well, it's been a while, and I’m okay,” you shrugged.

You gave a small smile, finding your way to find Lorraine.

---

“No labels, that’s a red sign,” Dean muttered to himself, picking up a beer bottle.

“Nah, it’s good. Homemade,” Bucky smiled.

“I’m Bucky Sims,” Bucky introduced.

“Dean Winchester,” he replied.

“Whoa, the Dean Winchester? As in like dead four times Dean Winchester?” another hunter, named Randy interrupted.

“Yeah, it, uh didn’t stick,” he gave a small smile.

“I mean, Asa was famous, but you’re here, and Ace is here? This is gonna get interesting,” he exhaled.

“Ace is here? I’ve always wanted to meet him,” Dean started.

“Uh, she,” Bucky corrected.

“Oh, really? Good for her,” Dean said, opening his beer.

---

“Oh, hey Alicia, Max,” you greeted the twins, standing in front of them.

“Hey, Ace, this is Sam,” she introduced you to the man standing in front of them.

He turned to you, as you felt shivers go down your spine. 

Sam

“Oh my god,” you gasped.

“What the!?” he jumped up, looking at you in shock.

“I-It’s nice t-to meet you,” you stuttered, walking back.

Holy shit, oh my god

You panicked, walking to the back room.

“(Y/N),” you heard Dean call your name.

It’s been years since anyone called you by your name.

“Please, go away,” you said, walking into a room, with Sam and Dean entering with you.

“(Y/N), please, just talk to us,” Dean said.

“Shut up. Leave me alone, please,” you begged.

“You’re Ace? You’re freaking Ace?!” Dean raised his voice.

“So what if I am?!” you yelled at them.

“No, Ace was around before you left,” Sam remembered.

“I was Ace then, and I’m Ace now,” you said shakily.

“What the hell?!” Dean yelled.

“Just stop! Both of you!” you yelled.

“(Y/N), just listen,” Sam started.

“No! You have nothing to say to me, Sam. Do you think I-I forgot what the last thing you said to me was?!” you yelled.

“That wasn’t me, I swear. Look, when we were at the hospital, we were all waiting, i-in the waiting room. They weren’t letting us go in. We saw a shifter leaving your room, and then you were gone,” Sam’s eyes watered.

You went quiet.

“Where’s my brother?” you asked softly.

They both gave each other a look.

“Where is he?” you raised your voice.

“He’s gone,” Dean answered.

You felt your heart drop.

“W-What… what do you mean?” you stuttered. You knew, but you couldn’t. He couldn’t be gone.

“He’s dead, (Y/N)!” Dean yelled.

You jumped slightly, as your eyes watered.

Sam elbowed Dean, motioning to him to calm down.

“(Y/N),” Sam started.

“I’m sorry-” he continued.

“Please, j-just don’t. God, everything was okay before you came here,” you sighed.

“Okay? You call that okay? We looked for you, for so long! We thought you died, (Y/N)! You disappeared!” Dean yelled.

“Y-You think I was gonna stay there, with you?” you spat.

“We were gonna fix things,” Dean started.

“There was no fixing things! I told you that I-I hated you! And I still do! Do you think I-I wanted to fix things after everything that I said? I was in pain, Dean, and you made it worse. I bet you still don’t know where I was going that day,” you shook your head.

“Maybe I don’t, okay, but we’re family. We’re supposed to hate each other, and we’re supposed to fix things,” he said softly.

“What makes you think I want to? Look, out there, with all the hunters, I’m Ace. (Y/N) doesn’t exist. You two don’t know me. You can stay for Asa’s wake, but after this, I never, ever want to see you again,” you said shakily.

“That’s not your decision to make,” Dean said, as you started walking out of the room.

“It’s not yours either. You were the worst father. I’d be shocked if you even knew how old I am,” you scoffed, about to leave.

“You’re (Y/N) Winchester, born on April 20th, 1995. You’re 21 years old, your favorite color is blue, your favorite book is ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’. You wanted to go to Yale, and you’re my daughter. And I love you, so much. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t show it.”

You froze, your hand on the doorknob, as your tears fell to the floor.

“I spent years looking for you because you’re my kid, you’re my family, and you mean the world to me,” Dean walked next to you, putting his hand on yours, slowly taking it off the door.

“You’re smart, you’re fierce, you’re brave, you’re kind, you’re beautiful. And you’re too good for our family,” he turned you to face him.

“Family’s overrated anyways,” you sniffled, closing the door behind you.

(Posted @  on July 16, 2020)

Tagging - @vicmc624​ @beancave​ @yoongi-holland​ @samsgirl93​ @the-and-sign-anon​ @cryingskies​ @skyelikestowrite