#the funniest part was that i had like a weak moment where i thought maybe i should try to drive how she wants me to to placate her

[thegeminisage]

tng night SIGH number four. tonight's eps were uhhh [checks] "lonely among us" and "justice." verdict: idk, i kept getting bored and looking at my phone

"lonely among us" was about a little electric thing that kept hopping bodies. this was initially kind of fun, if stupid, because it seemed SO OBVIOUS that crusher should report missing time right away and she just didn't lol

i do like that deanna finally got something to do (hypnotizing them) but it just made me remember that in tos they werent allowed to do that and this hypnotism could have been an email (vulcan mind meld). i'll get there. i just miss him.

the aliens who wanted to eat live animals were like. unfunny. especially when menacing tasha yar. idk, she always looks incredibly tense and it's starting to make me feel bad for her. she seems to hate everything. poor ms whoever is playing her

data's bit with the sherlock pipe was kinda cringe but i love him anyway. i was VERY mad when picard told him to knock it off. you're stopping him from stimming!!! leave him alone!!! also, in the next episode, he got onto him about babbling and watching data shut down in response was SOOO sad jail for picard for ONE THOUSAND YEARS im glad his ass apologized

unfortunately during the middle of the pipe thing is when i found out about the loz movie via destiel meme (ep was boring i was looking at my phone sorry) so i ruined the best part of the episode for myself

i am coming to understand that generally speaking data is the best part of any given tng episode <3

there was a moment in this episode where wesley was once again right and told to buzz off. in the next episode he does something stupid and they spend the entire time defending him. i DONT understand why it always has to be like this. i don't even dislike wesley, i just dislike the way the other characters are written is reponse to him. he's like the theo teenwolf of tng (dont get me started)

big moment in this ep was the potential mutiny. once again it's too early for this shit. i wanted some episodes where they explore planets and fight some guys (like the ferengi ep!) before we did anything deep. i bet if this happened in like seasons 3-5 i'd be beside myself about it the way i was when it almost happened in tos. but i don't like some of these guys yet, let alone care deeply about them (except data, who is my best friend).

next ep: The Sex Planet. once again, it is inappropriate to be having children on a starship, but it is especially inappropriate to send your fifteen year old """honorary""" """""ensign"""""" down to a planet that you don't know anything about except how they LOVE to fuck. the greeting party literally didn't even know what to do with him if they couldn't feel him up. he had to explain in 1987 hays code that he was a fucking virgin. maybe some research besides "they love to fuck here" would have helped with this situation but also "let's not send the 15yo to the brothel planet" would be a good line of thought too???

anyway he breaks the law has to die and theyre twisting themselves into knots over the prime directive and the setup was ACTUALLY almost interesting except they just beamed away with him in the end without finding a third option, which they could have done like 20 minutes in. also, if theyre trying not to break the prime directive, why are they allowed to tell the aliens they're from space and beam one aboard their ship? like, i actually love ethical questions posed by the prime directive, so this episode is cool on paper, but the execution flopped

oh i nearly forgot worf was bragging about his prowess in bed and how he was too much for weak human partners and riker looked SO intrigued which was like the funniest fucking thing. good for both of them. also it was androidphobia that they didn't let data go to that planet to get laid

anyway, as of now, i have been OFFICIALLY DITCHED. catherine maulthots has decided to let me do s1 and s2 of tng on my OWN and then show her the relevant ones so it's time to watch this shit on 2x speed until i hit the good parts

[soryualeksi]

Unhinged colleagues galore it seems. Today I met a nice young lady who not only berated my every damn move driving the car - basically everything I did was essentially destroying the gears or the engine or or or or even though it was all... normal stuff that cannot physically do that, I checked - but then at like 70 km/h on a very much not empty road outside town she just. Unbuckled her belt. Climbed on her seat backwards on her knees. To address the patient in the back part of the car (connected to the "cockpit" via a small window).

And I'm like O_O

And I tell her like. Look. Do not ever unbuckle your seatbelt when I'm driving because if one (1) driver in front of us has any sort of unforseen issue, such a losing a tire. Then you are VERY dead and I'm VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY deep into paperwork hell.

She got mad at me, saying "Well, then YOU check on the patient!!" No, ma'am. That's your job if you're not driving. And I have NEVER in my life met anyone who did your job by. Climbing backwards on the seat, no seatbelt, at 70 km/h.

???

Oh and also we saw a raccoon and I was like "Raccoon!!!" and she was like "I want to kill and eat it because a raccoon once destroyed my car." So there's that.

[kittyprincessofcats]

I finished playing Ace Attorney: Justice for All today and holy shit... that last case had me at the edge of my seat, I’ll tell you that.

Spoilers under the cut!

The entire final part was amazing. Franziska finally bursting through the door was the triumphant moment I’d been waiting for (because I really felt like I was about to lose it with how much I had to drag that trial out until then; and I kept saying that either Franzi, or Gumshoe, or Maya will have to have a dramatic entrance and save us).

Speaking of Franziska von Karma, I can’t wait to see what character development might be in store for her in the future. I said from the beginning that there must be more to her than it first seems (like there was with Edgeworth) and it seems like that’s the case.

I also really loved the character of Adrian Andrews. When she finally smiled in court in the end, I literally started to cry, no joke. (Also she’s gay AF, I don’t make the rules. What happened to Celeste hurt her so much because she was in love with her. And when she had that speech about “finally accepting herself”... Yeah, that woman’s gay.) I also definitely ship Adrian with Franziska, because Adrian really seemed to believe Franziska and she said in the end that Franzi reached out to her and... yeah.

Speaking of ships... I’m really into Wrightworth, holy shit. I mean, I already was after the first game, but this game gave them even more shippy moments! And then Phoenix brought up the stuff from their childhood again and... Look, I have a weakness for childhood friends to enemies to lovers (and just regular enemies to lovers), okay? It’s THE superior ship dynamic and it’s why I’ve had Catradora brainrot for two years now.

That part in the end where Phoenix was like “words aren’t enough, I have to show him my feelings differently” - obviously the game wants you to present evidence, but I was just like “Yes, kiss him.”

(I really want to write a Catradora Ace Attorney AU with Adora as Phoenix and Catra as Edgeworth someday. Glimmer and Bow would share Maya’s role (with maybe Frosta as Pearl?), Horde Prime would be Manfred von Karma, Scorpia would be Gumshoe, Angella would fit Mia and... maybe Shadow Weaver as Morgan Fey?)

I also think Maya really deserves a break after everything she’s been through. Losing her sister, getting accused of murder (twice), finding out her aunt was conspiring against her, then getting kidnapped and starved... give that girl a break, please.

It was nice to see Edgeworth so concerned about Maya as well. I really need them to be friends. (The reason I hated Edgeworth in the beginning of the first game was because he was trying to get Maya declared guilty, so having him now help save her was good closure on that.)

I’m really caught up in the last case right now, but I’ve got to say I also really loved the second one. The whole mystery air of Kurain village was just my vibe, I love that I figured out the plot-twist on this one, and Mimi Miney was an amazing character and the only one of the real killers so far that I felt genuinely bad for.

The whole circus case was weird, though.

[EDIT: Oh yeah also, one thing I forgot: The funniest moment in the entire game was when Phoenix asked De Killer what his fee is and the judge thought Phoenix was planning to kill him. I was laughing so hard 😂.]

[jinxytheshippr]

A Gallo x Reader Oneshot that Perfectly Sums up me and my taste :)

"I don't know, it just --- didn't feel right, you know?" Blake wondered aloud, running a hand through his hair. "Did I do the right thing? Did I mercilessly slash her heart open on a faint remnant of a feeling?" He ran the same hand through his hair, in the same spot. He kept saying the same three questions for a few more seconds before you grabbed his hand and pinned it to the table, giving him a passive-agressive "shut up" look.

"Listen to your heart, think about these feelings a little more --- preferably without words --- and make up your mind. Jessica's nice, right? She will probably give you a second chance. You can't have hurt her that bad?" You said, letting go of his hand to take a sip of your latte.

"Maybe, but I can't shake this feeling, I've told you about it as long as I've known you! You know that none of these girls have been any different," he defended, agitated.

"Maybe take a step away from girls. It worked for me, plus, I heard Darren's looking for a new guy," you joked with a smile, setting your latte back on its coaster.

"What?" He looked befuddled. "I don't think so. But should I? Would that work?"

A nervous Gallo was a talkative Gallo, you had (sadly) learned that very quickly. The funniest thing was, he only blabbered on when something was really bothering him, in his mind.

"I was joking," you contradicted, grabbing his hand again. "You just haven't found the right girl, or bothered to set up a Tinder profile. Give it a sec, you'll find someone."

He pulled his hand away, grabbing a biscotti from the cute painted plate between you, and looked towards the wall of windows to his right, which caused that chemical reaction your body started doing from the moment you met him; taking a mental photo of anything that made Blake look like he should be on the cover of a magazine. (Which was nearly every stupid pose possible, btw)

You sat there, latte in hand, marvelling as the early morning light shone across his dark hair and cheeks, his eyes sparkling as they looked out at the passing taxis and cabs. You grabbed your latte again and focused on that instead, remembering how crazy in love you were with Blake. That was why you used sarcasm instead of actual relationship advice for him, because part of you wanted to love him and him love you back, but the other part was too scared that you would get in trouble for in-house dating or losing a friend.

"The coffee's cute," he said, drawing you back to reality. You stared down at your latte, only then realising the barista had made a little cat on top of it. Unfortunately, your cat looked like the undead from one too many drinks.

"Yeah," you moved your cup in a circle over the coaster, swishing the liquid inside.

"Thanks for taking me here, I really needed it. I think this is my new favorite corner in Chicago."

"Of course," you smiled flirtatiously, but knew Gallo would catch it as a friendly, goofy smile instead. "I work here over the summer, Kathy over there's the one to thank for the cats in the coffee," you motioned for the counter, where Kathy was rearranging the gift cards. Again.

"Cool," he said, turning around to look at her. (for a little longer than you were comfortable with) "Is she single?"

"Yeah, but only for girls with hair as bright as hers," I motioned for another worker with bright pink locks trailing down her shoulders; Becca, the co-owner of the shop and also Kathy's longest lasting crush.

You picked up your cup again and started taking another drink.

"Really?" Blake frowned, then turned back to his latte. "I think I should start a Tinder. Unless you would like to date me, by chance?"

You nearly spat all over the table, but kept it to a weak cough. "Sorry, what?"

"Nothing, just trying sarcasm, I guess," he looked at the wall of windows again, and your mind took another mental photo.

Was that my chance? Did I just mess it up? Your thoughts wandered again as you cleared your throat.

"Crap," Blake said, moving his head to look over his shoulders. "Red alert, that's Jessica."

You turned to look at the girl. You could tell by her general vibe that she was not one for second chances; the claw nails as long as her fingers themselves, the Gucci purse, and the foot-tall heels said that pretty clearly. What had Gallo gotten himself into this time?

"What do we do?" Blake panicked, looking over the other shoulder.

A single movie quote popped into your head, from the movie you watched last night. It was dumb, and could cost a friendship, but it might work.

"Showing affection in public makes people uncomfortable," you start, already feeling your cheeks turn red.

"How do we do that? We gotta act fast, she's getting closer!" He reached out and grabbed your hand. "Will this work?"

Your brain lagged like a Minecraft game at one frame per second, stumbling forward every heartbeat.

"What if we try this?" He requests, still peeking over his shoulder. He turned to face you, his hand letting go of yours and moving to your chin, sending goosebumps up and down everywhere.

"I hope our brains are in the same page," you managed, although already reaching for him.

Then it happened. You kissed, to save Gallo from some encounter with an ex. The context was kinda (super) dumb, but you kissed, and loved it. Heat spread from your head around all parts of your body, and, by the time you broke apart, you knew there was no chance you were waiting any longer to tell him.

"What a rush," he said, still within half a foot of your face. "I think she's gone."

"Mhm," was all you could say, focusing on how to word this right.

"You know, that felt pretty good, maybe we should try dating," he leaned back in his seat, draping one arm over the corner of the back.

"Nice one," you said instinctively, but immediately wanted to take it back.

"No sarcasm this time," he smiled, but you could see a sheen of nervousness hidden beneath his confidence.

You blinked. "Sure," you matched his tone. "Netflix n' chill after next shift?"

[akawrites000]

Dancing, nicknames, and us

"Hey, shall I call you starlight now and then?"

Hero asks casually like they're asking their lover what's for dinner, not even batting an eyelash at the cheesiness.

But their lover seems to do enough of that for them, and hero watches as villain’s nose scrunches up adorably at that statement, the moonlight from the tiny window overlooking the busy streets illuminating their face just right.

"Um, I don't know, but that sounds way too cheesy." Villain says politely, not wanting to sound rude or anything.

Hero laughs like they've heard the funniest joke, eyes shut and head bobbing slightly, so they miss the way villain’s entire face lights up at the sound of their laughter, maybe even brighter than the moon for that one moment.

"Hmm yeah, you're right. Part of me thought that as well. " Hero says easily, snaking their arm around villain’s neck to bring them closer. They're dancing to some old record that's always there in villain’s apartment, a familiar tune. Villain doesn't even bother to resist, moving their hand from where it rested on hero’s shoulder around their hip, to pull them closer.

Hero chuckles at that and the words fall out from villain’s lips before they can stop them-

"Do that again."

Hero quirks their head shyly, as if thinking.

"Do what?"

"Laugh."

And hero does just that, not because they're trained to laugh on command or anything, they're no actor- it's just who they are. Hero always had a habit of laughing at almost anything, even if it's not even that funny and it's one of the things villain loves about their lover so much- their laughter.

Hero gasps a little, all that laughing making them tremble in villain's arms. The tempo of their dance is all off but the couple doesn't care one bit as they hold each other in the comfort of the darkness, a pair of matching smiles on their faces- hero’s is bright and shy, and villain’s is raw but sweet all the same, just like their personalities; they're opposites one second and the same person the next. There's no middle ground.

Hero looks up at villain’s face after their little laughing spree with so much love in their eyes, their face and their whole body, the way hero’s fingers gently brush villain’s cheek and they move just a little bit more closer, as if even the tiniest molecule of space somehow doesn't sit well with them and villain swoons with this bubbly and warm feeling in their chest-

"I love you."

They don't know who said it, and that really doesn't matter. All that matters is that they both said it.

Villain wants to run and hide away but they have nowhere to go, their heart pinning them in place. Defeated, they bend down and rest their forehead on hero’s shoulders and they can immediately feel a hand, hero’s hand, caressing their head. Villain just smiles into hero’s sweater.

"Just what are you doing to me?" Villain whines.

"Hmm?" Hero hums, trying to move in circles with villain leaning on them.

"I never knew I could be this cheesy." , Villain lazily mumbles and hero chuckles again.

Villain feels their cheeks heating up at the sound and they can't decide whether to be embarrassed or just drown in it.

"Well if it makes you feel better," Hero begins, "my heart goes crazy when you do cute things too."

Villain peeks up their head a little to catch a glimpse of hero’s face, the soft smile on their lips makes them weak. Hero was just too powerful.

"Let's just... dance." Villain manages with a shuddering breath, afraid that they'll melt into some cheesy goo if they keep this talk up any longer.

"Anything you want baby." Hero says in that cute voice like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Villain groans, smiling and looks like the happiest person on the planet.

[hepaidattention]

saved

where Stiles and Lydia actually get alone time after he and the pack save her from Eichen House.

“Stiles found his eyes drifting closed, unable to resist the pull of sleep any longer. His last thoughts were of the blissful reminder that Lydia Martin was in his arms, alive, and he was never going to let anything else ever hurt her again.”

“Stiles, I’m fine,” Lydia insisted, pushing his hand back only slightly. She held onto it, tight, but she pushed it away from her just enough to show that she could stand on her own. She gave him a smile that actually reached her eyes, the tears in them causing her hazel irises to sparkle. She had been through so much, but she still managed to stand up from the table on her own. “See?” 

Stiles wasn’t letting go of her hand, “You don’t need to prove anything, Lyds, someone literally just performed trepanation to your skull,” he breathed out from his mouth, like if he didn’t he might pass out, “it’s okay to need help.”

“Stiles,” she placed a hand on his cheek, rubbing away tears stains with her thumb, “I’m okay, I promise.”

The sheriff had arrived, now talking to Lydia’s mom in the lobby of the clinic. Dr. Deaton and Scott were out there with them, all discussing the events of the night. Stiles was still in shock, he still felt like if he let go of Lydia’s hand it all would have been some big hallucination. It wouldn’t be the first time for him. Lydia could tell how concerned he still was so she nodded and said, “Okay, maybe I’m not a hundred percent.” She leaned on his arm, because in all honesty she really needed the support - she was just stubborn. “But I’m going to be fine, thanks to you.”

He scoffed a little, scratching the back of his neck as he raised his eyebrows in objection, “Lydia, trust me, I participated a pretty small part. Helping you limp out of a few hallways should hardly be categorized under ‘rescuing’.”

“Small?” She tweaked up her left brow, her right staying put. She pursed her lips and asked, “Did you make the plan?”

“Well, yeah,” he said like it was a ‘no duh’ question. He wasn’t wrong. “And it failed, miserably.”

She looked at her hand, as if it wasn’t real, then poked his chest. “Hm,”

He knew what she was doing. He sighed and said, “What?”

“Well, it sure feels like we’re alive,” she poked his cheek, “but if your plan failed, then I guess we must be dead.” She poked his cheek again. He gently grabbed her free hand (the poking one) and cracked a smile, which was her goal all along. He didn’t let go of either hand now, and she didn’t pull them away. She didn’t want to. 

“Ha, ha,” he faked a laugh, but he was still smiling down at her, “okay, so maybe like ten percent of the plan worked. The rest was purely winging it, lots of unadulterated luck.” She was still looking at him with pursed lips, which unconsciously made his gaze fall to them. “Lots.”

It got still between them, Lydia realizing what he was staring at, Stiles having trouble looking away. Ever since he found her in Eichen House all he’s wanted to do was kiss her - he knew it was just old feelings being stirred up from the detrimental, gnawing reality of possible death, but he still couldn’t help but just want nothing more than to kiss her. That feeling should have faded - but it was more strong than ever before now. It didn’t help that he was pretty sure Lydia was thinking the exact same thing - she couldn’t be, could she? She was staring at his lips too, wasn’t she? Their eyes met then, and the electricity between them was hard for even a plain old human like him to deny. This was insane, he had to snap out of it. This was purely because life and death put them into survival mode. He tore his eyes from her own - a hand running through his mess of hair. 

“Do you uh,” he cleared his throat, his mouth much drier than he expected, “do you need a ride home?”

“Stiles,” she smirked, looking behind her towards the lobby, then back at him, “I think my mom can drive me home.”

“Right! Right, yeah, right, right,” he was chewing on his bottom lip, his eyes staring down at the ground (too afraid to meet her gaze again). However, he still didn’t let go of her hands. He couldn’t. He wouldn't. He finally looked up, “Are you sure?”

“I mean,” she was looking tired again, really really tired. She leaned back into the table and yawned, “I’m highly sure my mom is here, and I’m pretty sure she’ll want to bring me home.”

He let loose one of her hands to help support her from her elbow. “Lyds, I think maybe you should sit back down,”

She nodded, surprisingly not arguing. He led her to a chair this time, rather than struggling to get her up on that table again. She sat down on the cold, black seat and let out a huff. “Who knew screaming could wear out a banshee.” She rested her hand on her fist, eyes closing. 

Stiles pushed the hair from her eyes with his thumb, now standing on his knees in front of her. “Lydia?” he shook her knee just a little, “Lyds, remember what Deaton said,” this time he tucked the hair behind her ear since it kept persistently falling back in her eyes. “Can you tell me what he said?”

She smacked her mouth like she was in need of water and she nudged her head a little, an attempt of a nod. With eyes still closed she said, “I should try to stay awake for at least eight hours.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he puffed a soft laugh from his nose, “this doesn’t look a lot like trying to stay awake.”

“What does it look like then?” Her head went from staying up on her fist to finding Stiles’ arm that was lying across the side of the chair and laying her head on it like he was her pillow. 

“Well, I’m not an expert, but it looks a lot like sleeping to me.”

“Shhh,” her pale lips pursed again, just to make the noise. God he wanted to kiss her. No, Stiles, snap out of it! You cannot and should not kiss Lydia Martin. “Stiles, I’m trying to sleep, don’t be so loud.”

He knew he needed to keep her awake, but he felt so guilty waking her. She looked so peaceful, and how could he find it in him to ask her (after everything she’d been through) to stay awake? 

However, his dad did it for him. He waltzed in the room with his booming voice, announcing both their names as if they wouldn’t respond to just a quiet tap on the shoulder. The sound made Lydia jump up immediately. She grabbed both of his arms with a death grip, nails digging into his forearms with rattled breaths. 

“Lyds, it’s okay, it's okay,” Stiles said soothingly, his hands turning up to grab her arms back in any way he could. She looked at the sheriff with wide eyes, then met Stiles' gaze. The fear in her expression melted, and her forehead fell into his. “It’s okay,” he said again, watching as she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. “I’m right here. I’m not gonna let anything else happen to you, okay?”

She nodded against his head. Stiles reluctantly pulled his head from hers, pried a hand from her tight grasp, and looked at his dad with sigh. “Yeah?”

“Well uh,” he looked a little uncomfortable, his eyes scanning the two of them as if he was trying to put the last pieces of the puzzle together, but they just didn’t fit. He knew they weren’t together, yet he couldn’t help but feel like at this moment, they were. “Well, Lydia’s mother, she’s uh, she’s gonna need to come down to the station. She wants to make a report on Eichen House and she doesn’t seem to want to wait - can’t really say I blame her. She was wondering if you one of us could -”

“I’ll bring her home,” he was holding her hand again now, Lydia squeezing back (tight), “No problem.”

“Alright, sounds good,” he cleared his throat again, his eyes flicking to their joined hands, then back to his son. “Scott ran off somewhere, god knows where, he mumbled something about Liam needin’ him or somethin’ like that. You sure you guys will be okay? I’m sure I can call a deputy down to help -”

“We’re fine, dad,” Stiles cut off his dad’s spiel with a half smile. “We’ll be fine. Lydia’s house is only like 10 minutes down the road.”

“Okay,” he nodded, still looking weary, “well, if you need me son, if you need anything,-”

“You’ll be the first one we call,” he stood up then, helping Lydia to her feet beside him. He wrapped an arm around her waist as she walked, much more steady than before but still weak. They stopped in front of his dad and he softly smiled as he said, “I promise, okay?”

The sheriff nodded, his forehead still frowning, but honestly that was his normal expression now-in-days. He patted his son on the shoulder and said, Alright, well, be safe.”

Stiles gave him a wink and, “Always,” before they made their way out of the clinic and to his jeep. He helped Lydia in the passenger seat first, then he made his way around the car, quickly to his seat before resting his hands on the steering wheel and letting out a long exhale. 

“You okay?” Lydia asked him, the tone of concern in her voice. Stiles laughed, looking at her like she just made the funniest joke he’d heard all night (not that he’d heard very many jokes at all all night). She pouted at him, her head pressed against the headrest as she glared, “Why are you laughing?”

“Lydia, you literally almost died today, and you’re asking me if I’m okay.” He shook his head, his eyes on the steering wheel as if the car is supposed to drive itself. “You’re unbelievable.” He meant that in the highest of regards. She thinks. 

“Hate to break it to you Stilinski,” she raised her head, trying to reach his eyes, “but you almost died today, too.”

He turned then, locking eyes with her, and his breath hitched in his chest. Her hazel hues glowing in the moonlight, the soft smile on her lips. She looked like death, not that he would ever tell her that, and she still was the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen walk his earth. A sudden flood of love overcame him, which then quickly was partnered with worry. “Are we sure it’s okay to bring you home? Shouldn’t - shouldn’t Deaton want to keep you overnight for observation? Shouldn’t we make sure you’re going to be alright-”

“Stiles,” she grabbed his knee and squeezed. It stilled his bouncing leg, and stilled his racing thoughts. “Take me home,” her mouth curved up just slightly, “please. I just want to go home.”

“Okay,” He nodded and he felt tears pricking his eyes again. Why? Now was not an appropriate time to cry, dear god Stiles - just drive. “Okay.” He shook his head and let out an uneasy breath as he started the ignition, the jeep purring awake. “Let’s get you home.”

-

He helped Lydia in her room, waited for her as she showered, and now he was wrapping covers around her legs, propping pillows behind her back, and fidgeting around like the world was going to end if he stopped moving for two seconds. He was rambling now, going on about all the things she needed and looking around the room for something to help ease her discomfort. “Stiles,” she said, hoping he’d stop moving like a fly trapped in a jar. 

He didn’t hear her. “Do you need anything to eat? No? Drink, maybe? Water? God, I bet you’re freakin’ thirsty -” he looked at her dry lips and ran a hand through his once spiky hair. All the gel had been combed out by his own nervous hands. “When was the last time you had anything to drink? - ya know what, I’m just - I’m just gonna go get you some water.”

Before Lydia could protest, he was gone. She sighed, leaning her head back on the pillows and watching the ceiling. The mistletoe and everything else Deaton did helped, but she could still hear the voices, when there was nothing else to listen to, nothing else to keep her mind off the pain. She closed her eyes, sucked in a breath, then released it only to suddenly hate the idea of sleeping. 

“Stiles,” she shouted, the voices slowly getting louder the longer he was gone. What was taking him so long? “Stiles!” She was getting frantic. She started ripping the blankets from her legs, her feet ready to go searching for him, when he came practically falling in the room with a glass of water in his hand. 

“What? Are you okay? What happened?” he stumbled at the side of the bed, falling to his knees in an instant. He sat the glass down instinctively and immediately checked her like something was physically wrong - cupping her face with his hand and searching her eyes. 

Lydia shook her head, feeling a little guilty, “I’m fine, sorry, I just…” there was no reason to lie, this was Stiles. He’d seen her at her worst and told her she was beautiful for it. “The voices, they just get really loud when it’s quiet.”

“Right, okay,” he licked his lip top lip, then bit down, looking around her room like he would find answers. “Quiet equal bad, we can work with that.”

“Just don’t…” she held onto him tight, like he was her anchor, “don’t leave me again.”

Stiles was giving her that mouth gaped open, nodding like a speechless idiot face. “Uh, yeah, yeah you go it - no more leaving.” Then his eyes caught sight of her nightstand, three DVD’s stacked beside her lamp. “What about a movie then? Yeah? Doctor’s orders?”

Lydia wanted nothing more than to sleep, but she knew sleeping sounded like the scariest thing she would do today. She nodded, realizing then that she was crying - she wasn’t even sure what that started happening. No wonder Stiles acted like her very life was in his hands, she probably looked like a ticking time bomb. She also realized she was holding Stiles’ hand, which she needed to let go of for him to put a movie on. 

Stiles put on the movie, one of Lydia’s favorites - he didn’t even have to ask, he just knew the perfect movie she would love. It was her comfort movie, and he knew it. Then he crawled back beside her bed and leaned his body against the side. His face was on the corner of her mattress, watching the previews like he’d never seen the trailer for a chick flick before. He was so exhausted, she could tell he was doing everything in his power to stay awake. She was lying down, curling up as close to him as possible, but she felt cold and alone. Every time she closed her eyes she could see Eichen House, the doctors, the patients, the victims. She could hear the voices seeping into her mind. The only time she remembered being at peace was when she was holding Stiles’ hand. She couldn’t do that very well right now, and if she was honest she didn’t want to just hold his hand.

“Stiles,”

“Hm?” he said sleepily. He nudged his head back, looking at her with all the love he could muster (which was a lot). “Something wrong?”

“No, it’s just… you don’t have to sit on the floor you know.”

He looked so confused, his brows knitting together as he looked at her bed, then back to her eyes. “I don’t?”

“I have a king size bed, Stiles. There’s plenty of room up here for the two of us.”

“Yeah?” she didn’t waver, so he then said, “Yeah, okay, yeah,” he stood up, crawling on the bed from the end, “plenty of room, right? Not like we have to cuddle or something-” 

Once he got to the top she pulled on his arm, wrapping it around her waist and snuggling into his embrace as he settled into the bed beside her. Stiles was in shock. He knew this was purely platonic need for physical touch in he midst of a mental and emotional crisis… but he was spooning Lydia Martin, and it was her choice. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” 

He didn’t know how to answer. He just stammered out, “Sur-sure, yeah,”

“Stiles,” she intertwined her fingers with his and looked back at him with a frown, “Promise me you won’t go anywhere?”

His face relaxed, meeting her eyes like she was the only thing that brought his mind to peace. He could have a thousand thoughts racing at once, but when she looked at him, everything was still. “I’m not going anywhere,” he tightened his arm around her, “I promise.” She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. His eyes fluttered, “What was that for?”

“A thank you,” she turned back towards the movie, snuggling further into his embrace. “For saving me.”

He whispered back, “What else was I gonna do? I couldn’t let you die. I’d lose my freakin’ mind.”

She didn’t answer, she just closed her eyes with a smile on her face. Within minutes she was sound asleep in his arms. He just watched her, terrified about what would happen if he fell asleep too. Someone drilled a hole in her beautiful freakin’ head - that had to be bad for the brain, right? He watched the movie some, but when she’d flinch or squirm his attention immediately went back to her - holding his breath every time until she showed signs of being alright. 

It had been so long since he allowed himself to think like this - so long since he’d allowed himself to even consider Lydia as anything but a friend. The thing was, he knew he still was just that for her - just a friend. Stiles was always who she went to when she was hurting, but never who she went to when she was in the mood for a good cuddle or a make-out session. That wasn’t them - he had been friend-zoned far too long now for that. 

That didn’t change the fact that he now was realizing something he didn’t want to realize. Through all the years of knowing Lydia, his feelings for her were once shallow, fragile, inexperienced - but now, her laying in his arms after almost dying, he knew what she really meant to her. It killed him that he was allowing himself to think this way, but the thing was he always knew, he just wouldn’t let himself get so far as to put words to it. It hurt too much. 

Lydia flinched, Stiles holding just a little tighter, and she relaxed back in his arms. He whispered so quietly, he could hardly hear himself even say it: “I love you, Lydia Martin.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, eyes closed, “I love you, too.” Stiles popped up, his ears having to have played a trick on him. Then in her sleep she mumbled, “No mom, I don’t need another prada bag.”

Stiles laughed to himself and fell into the bed again. The hardest part was knowing tomorrow he’d wake up with Lydia Martin in his arms, and then having to go through the rest of his day acting like it meant nothing to either of them. Like it was nothing to him but pure platonic cuddling, for emotional support only, of course. 

Stiles found his eyes drifting closed, unable to resist the pull of sleep any longer. His last thoughts were of the blissful reminder that Lydia Martin was in his arms, alive, and he was never going to let anything else ever hurt her again.

[unioncolours]

Fic: CLEAR

Genre: Fluff, slice of life, this has barely a plot

Pairing: implied Shikajin

Lenght: 2,2k

Inojin notices Shikadai behaves oddly. Something is not right and Inojin is determined to find out what it is, and help him when needed.

Alternatively: This is a brainworm that has lived in my head since April 2020. You’re welcome. 

Please read down below and keep reading! 🖤

 CLEAR

They were sitting out in the meadow bordering to the Nara Forest, just talking about this and that, passing time, like they liked to do, just the two of them.

It was a beautiful day in Konoha and Inojin enjoyed this afternoon immensely. He finished the juice they had with them, swallowing the final drop of liquid, as some guests peeked out of the edge of the forest a bit away from them.

Two deer.

Inojin liked the deer. Not the same extent the Naras did, but he found them beautiful to look at. That was why he became so excited when he saw the brown animals sniffing the fresh spring air out in the open.

“Look!” Inojin whispered, looking at the deer. He didn’t dare pointing at them, in case his movement would spook them.

Shikadai looked up and stared. Just stared. He didn’t say anything, just let his gaze wander along the line of trees. Inojin looked at him, waiting for a response.

It didn’t come.

Shikadai’s wrinkle between his eyebrows let Inojin know he was confused.

“The deer,” Inojin said and pointed at them. “Over there. By the big tree.”

Shikadai stared some more before breaking out in a smile.

“Aaah,” he said. “Yes. They are brave when they come out here. Normally they hide inside.” He nudged Inojin gently. “They’ve gotten so used to you, since you come here so often as well.”

He laid down flat on his back, closing his eyes. Inojin looked at him, feeling a little but concerned by the weird reaction. Shikadai’s peaceful face was however enough to calm him down. Maybe he just had been a little bit tired. Inojin followed him down on the ground and let his eyes close as well.

  The next time Inojin noticed Shikadai was behaving oddly was when they watched TV. There was a humour show going on, where the participants had signs with funny text written on them, and even the funniest jokes didn’t immediately warrant a laugh from Shikadai. The laugh came delayed, after Inojin had laughed and after the narrator read the signs out loud and Inojin found that odd.

And after that he found a lot of different moments that only served as proof to his theory. Shikadai didn’t tell hi to friends who walked the opposite direction towards before it was almost too late and both Inojin and Chocho noticed training didn’t go as well as before. This behaviour spanned on for a couple of weeks, before Inojin finally decided to confront him.

“Can you read what it says on that sign?”

They were out on a market square and Inojin had spotted a sign for a teashop a bit away from them, golden text against black metal. It seemed like the perfect text to test Shikadai.

“Which sign?” Shikadai sounded indifferent.

“The teashop sign,” Inojin said. He followed carefully how Shikadai’s eyes darted across all the signs along the streets. He didn’t seem to find the sign. “Black and gold,” Inojin helped even more.

“I don’t know,” Shikadai finally muttered. “I can’t see the sign you’re referring to.”

Inojin grabbed Shikadai’s arm and gently dragged him with him.

“Tell me when you see it,” he said, and they walked closer and closer to the sign. Inojin waited with anticipation for the moment when Shikadai would see the golden text.

“There,” Shikadai said when they were close to the sign. “Golden Leaf – Tea Shop.”

“Yes,” Inojin said. He took a deep breath before opening his mouth. “You know, I saw this text from where we were standing at first. It was sharp and clear from the very start.”

Shikadai was quiet for a while and Inojin gave him all the room to puzzle through the reality.

“It’s not normal to not see it sharply before at this length from it,” Inojin continued softly. “You don’t see things well far away, isn’t that right?”

Shikadai stared up at the sign, clearly irritated at it.

“I guess,” he finally muttered. He sounded angry. Defeated. He turned around to walk back to where they had walked from.

“It’s easily fixed,” Inojin said, trying to level down the situation. He followed Shikadai, who had his eyes steadily fixed on something invisible in front of him. “Hey. Talk to me.”

“This is just so troublesome,” Shikadai muttered.

“But easily fixed,” Inojin continued, on purposely sounding light-hearted. Shikadai shrugged. “Are you embarrassed?”

“Dunno,” Shikadai said.

“You seem like it,” Inojin said. “It’s fine. It is nothing weird to wear glasses. Sarada does it.”

“Sarada has worn them since she was like three years old,” Shikadai retorted, as if that was the only allowed age to have decreased eyesight if one was younger than fifty.

“And it doesn’t matter,” Inojin continued. “What matters is that you don’t seem to see things like deer in your own forest. That we have managed missions so far is a miracle. What if you get hurt because you didn’t see something approaching you, or someone in camo clothing? And what if your eyesight continues worsen? What then?”

Shikadai pressed his hands down his pockets, annoyed, but he knew Inojin was right. He didn’t see faces of people standing further away from him. Animals disappeared for him among the green and brown of forests, the colours blurring together. He couldn’t always read texts in the tv if he didn’t sit closer than the sofa.

He could work around his weakness, and it had worked thus far, but it only worked so far and so long. Soon he’d begin to suffer from not seeing. The worst part was the colours blurring together. Roots in the ground weren’t as visible anymore and he had tripped a few times.

“I’ll talk to my parents,” Shikadai finally said.

“Good,” Inojin said.

   Shikadai stared out of the window while eating dinner with his parents. He saw a big lump of green from the trees, individual leaves not existing for him, only a big green cloud with blurred edges. He stared at the blurry edge, feeling angry, because why wouldn’t his eyes make them sharp again like they once had been?

“Dad,” he finally said, accepting defeat. “I don’t think I see that well anymore.”

Both Shikamaru and Temari looked up.

“What do you mean?” Temari asked.

“I can’t… see things far away,” Shikadai said. “Like the leaves outside.” Both his parents looked out of the window at the leaves in question. “They’re all blurry. I can’t see deer in our forest. I can’t read signs if they’re not close to me.”

For some reason he had expected them to be disappointed. Disappointed in him and his body for not following the perfect shinobi mould. Instead, they offered empathic glances.

“How long have you noticed this going on?” Shikamaru asked gently.

“I don’t know,” Shikadai said. “It’s not like you notice when it happens. Probably for months. All of a sudden it hits you that you can’t see. And I’ve tried to work around it, tried to ignore it and make up alternative ways of working where sharp eyesight isn’t necessary so no one would know. I thought I could defeat it on my own, you know. But I don’t think I can anymore.”

To his surprise, Shikamaru just shook his head fondly and chuckled.

“Awfully stubborn as usual,” he said. “You should have told us as soon as you noticed something was up. It’s okay, Shikadai. Let’s appoint a time for you to an eye doctor and get it checked.”

Shikadai sighed, not knowing how to feel. Partly relieved that he would get to see well again, but also annoyed at having failed making this on his own.

He was a stubborn boy, but one that finally accepted his little weakness.

    “I want to come with you to choose your glasses!” Inojin pouted in the phone when Shikadai called him after the visit to the optician.

“No, I want to choose myself without your input,” Shikadai replied, voice filled with warmth, as he sipped a bit of the milkshake he had bought himself as a reward after the weird experience of having someone shining bright lights in his eyes and having him look at letters, red and green, dots and stripes through prisms and glasses. “I’ll go back to choose frames soon after my milkshake.”

“Choose something colourful!”

“Never,” Shikadai smiled to his phone, sipping some more. “You have to wait until your eyes suck as well.”

“What if mine never sucks?” Inojin teased.

“Hah ha,” Shikadai said dryly. “My milkshake is empty now. I’ll go back and choose some frames for me. They’ll come in a couple of weeks, whichever I choose.”

“You’re going to be so cute,” Inojin said and Shikadai blushed a bit.

“Bye,” he said and his voice sounded like a sunny smile.

   The couple of weeks rushed by. Shikadai lived in the world he was used to and that had become his normal, with leaves not visible and faces he couldn’t recognise. It was what he was used to, and he was a bit nervous as he walked into the opticians’ shop to fetch his glasses. Now something was going to change, he wasn’t going to have to squint all the time or accept some information was inaccessible for him.

And something was going to change about his appearance as well. He didn’t care about that part too much and was more concerned about other hassle that came with glasses.

His first thought when he got the glasses on was disappointment when he became hyper-focused on the black frames around his eyes. So, I am going to look at this all the time, huh? He even expressed his concerns and the optician promised him he’d get used to it and he’d forget they’re there. He’d even forget to feel them on his nose and around his ears. She warned him he could be dizzy or feel nauseous, but he just had to get used to see again without straining his eyes. Seemed fair.

Everything seemed okay and Shikadai walked out of the store, only to stop and just stare.

Everything was so clear. Edges were so sharp he wasn’t even able to comprehend this was normal and this was what the world looked like with a clear eyesight, something he now realised he hadn’t had for months. The depth of his surrounding felt different as well and he walked as in a daze, just staring around him through clear glass with the right adjustments and strength.

He had learned how to recognise Inojin even with the weakened sight of him – it was hard to miss the whirlwind with blond hair and most often purple clothes, but now he could look at Inojin’s features without standing close to him.

Shikadai could see Inojin’s face and despite him feeling like walking on clouds thanks to his depth perception feeling off when he just had everything corrected, he walked faster up to him. His own face cracked up in a smile.

“Hi, handsome,” Inojin said when he was closer. “Oh, they look really good!”

Shikadai put his hand instinctively up and touched the temple pieces. It still felt very new and odd.

“Hehe, thanks,” he said. “Do I look smarter now?”

“You look gorgeous as always,” Inojin said. “Milkshakes?”

“Yeah,” Shikadai said, still feeling the glasses on the side of his face.

He spent the day marvelling at the world around him. Feeling shocked at the brightness, the everything he hadn’t known he was missing out on. The milkshake tasted extra good, despite his head feeling weird from the new perception of his surroundings. It helped also that Inojin smiled to him in that terribly sweet way all the time.

   Two deer were peacefully munching on the grass and Shikadai was sitting on the other side of the river. He observed them while aimlessly touching his face, feeling what would become his new normal and every day. He could see them sharply, every thine on their antlers clear as they’ve never been before-

His parents had taken a look at him and nodded affirmatively when he had come home with the added aid to his face, but they had not drawn any attention to it. Shikadai was grateful for it. This was nothing spectacular after all, just a new look on him and nothing more. When he had gotten used to the glasses, and he took them off before bed or a shower, he couldn’t understand he had once been satisfied with blur around him.

“How many deer do you see?” Inojin asked.

“Three,” Shikadai snorted back at him.

“Good,” Inojin said. “Was just gonna check if you’re eyes work.”

“I hate you,” Shikadai jokingly said and affectionally pushed Inojin.

“Have I told you how good you look in those?” Inojin asked, through a little laugh.

“I don’t need to look good; I need to see!” Shikadai replied, knowing well that Inojin had been staring at him nonstop since a few weeks back when he received his spectacles the first time.

“Sure thing you do, sure thing,” Inojin said and leaned against Shikadai, lacing their fingers together as the deer peacefully kept munching on.

 The End

[lengthofropes]

POVs series

Part 2: Sam

(Part 1: Cas is here)

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words: 3,3k | smr: Sam’s POV as Cas returned from the Empty | read on A03

rating: general | warnings: none I guess?

----------

I’ve never seen Cas drinking through a straw. I’ve never seen him having a milkshake either, but here he is. On the backseat of Impala, with Dean sitting next to him and laughing as hard as he possibly can. 

“What is so funny?” Cas frowns at him, sounding sincerely confused. Dean can’t answer cause he’s literally choking with snickering. To be honest, yeah, this is one of the funniest things I’ve seen in years.

“You’re… you’re just slurping so loud!” Dean finally manages, wiping a laugh tear from his eye. "Cas, you gotta…” and he can’t finish the sentence because he's breathless with laugh again. 

"I don't understand. Is this supposed to be a dessert?" Cas asks. 

“Yeah, we can’t make a decent milkshake at home, so I thought you should try it here” Dean’s still giggling, but slowly calms down. “I know you like peanut butter with strawberry jelly, so maybe you'd like a strawberry milkshake too” 

“Oh. This is too sweet” 

And I swear Dean is slightly blushing now, I swear! This is even funnier than Cas slurping, but I’m holding back a smile cause yeah, this is too sweet.

“Yeah, umm… No, I just… I though you’d like it…”

“I like it, but it’s too sweet.” Cas looks at him and adds “The milkshake”

“Oh!…”

This time I can’t hold it back and just burst out with laughter.

“What’s so funny again?” Castiel is confused even more, I can see in a back view mirror. 

“Nothing” - Dean to Cas.

“Shut up!” - Dean to me. But I just can’t stop.

“Gimme that!” - to Cas again, taking the milkshake from his hand and slurping even louder than Cas. "It's not too sweet it's just perfect!"

We haven't laughed like this for a long time, too long.

Through the months Castilel’s been absent, times were tough sometimes. Me and Dean, we had to sort out a lot of stuff, and believe me, it wasn’t that easy.  

We talked about a lot of things, then. We started with the simplest.  

What are we about to do now? Continue hunting? Get ourselves a decent jobs? Should we move somewhere else? 

Move, huh. We weren’t ready to, at that point, guess we’re not ready still, not sure if we actually want to. Not sure, we know where to, how to, even. So many things have changed, we needed at least something to stay the same, stay solid for us. So we kind of… continued our usual routine in the bunker, with an exclusion of hunting for a while. We needed a rest. Probably, sticking up with the domestic stuff helped. You wake, make yourself breakfast, you eat, you read or watch movies, you make some calls, you exercise, you shower, you sleep. You do groceries, laundry, cleaning. You, being normal. Functional, pretty much. Slowly accepting your new world and the life you're now living. Like, piece by piece, understanding and acceptance comes.

Bunker felt so... I don’t know, remarkably unoccupied those days? 

Weird, cause we used to live here on our own, sometimes for weeks. Sometimes even months. But now it was… I guess it’s just knowing, that this time someone won’t come back here, this knowing… it made it hard to walk those corridors. I missed Cas. I missed Jack, too. But… you know. 

First month we stayed at the Bunker on our own. I mean, of course I went to see Eileen, it’s the first thing I wanted to do after everyone returned. I don’t even know how I can describe the feeling when I've read the message from her. I… 

We were driving home. With Miracle, sleeping on the backseat. And Jack’s “I’m not coming home” still too loud in our ears. And my phone beeped. It was her. She was the first person we got a message from. 

“Hey, Sam” 

That’s it, “Hey, Sam” - and it’s easier to breathe. I remember, I couldn’t text her back, just kept looking and looking at my phone.

“Eileen?” Dean asked.

“Yeah… yeah. She’s… she texted” 

I literally could add nothing to that. Dean just smiled, but didn’t say anything.

Rest of the road we called and called everyone, checking, laughing on loudspeaker, explaining, repeating the story about Chuck all over again. It was good. Those were the moments worth fighting for - hearing the voices of your family again. We were so happy, so relieved. And free, at last.

Next day the first thing Dean said to me, was that I need to go to see Eileen. 

“Nope, now! Pack your shit and go! ‘Cmon, Sammy, do me a favor, huh?”

Not sure I need to explain the argument between us, cause I didn’t want to leave him alone. Or should I say, the argument inside my head between me and me, the one who cares about my brother, and the one who loves Eileen. But well, he insisted, he insisted hard. And I’d lie if I say, to see her alive and well, to finally hold her, wasn’t on top of my needs. 

So yeah, Dean understood me even better than I did myself. He assured me, that everything’s gonna be fine, and he has work to do - go to the vet with Miracle and buy all the things we need to make the bunker a home for her, too.

I came back home in two days. Eileen went for a long trip to meet up with all her friends, and she promised to come to the bunker in few weeks. And stay for a little longer. Dean was pretty excited, though, even asked why the hell I didn’t bring her back with me immediately. So yeah, visiting her friends was a nice excuse to… 

He needed time. 

I didn’t tell him how heartbroken she was, when I told her Cas was gone. 

He needed time. And I needed to stay close. Because even if I’ve lost my dearest friend, Dean have lost way more than that.

Dean seemed “normal”. Not sad, not unnaturally cheerful, not heartbroken, not… anything. And it was scary as hell. I didn’t try to talk to him. He didn’t try to talk to me. Geez, at that time, I didn’t even knew how exactly it all happened. How did Cas summoned the Empty? Why it took him? But I just waited. I just think it’s time, when…it’s time. Because one thing I knew for sure, something in Dean has changed. Changed very deep. And it wasn’t a grief, no, that was something else. 

One morning I saw him looking at himself in a bathroom mirror. I just stood at he door, not to interrupt, cause the look on his face was… like he was examining himself, actually seeing something for the first time. Figuring, if he likes it or not. 

So, I was there, and I was waiting for him to be ready to share. Giving him time and space. 

Dean quit drinking. 

He just stopped. I didn’t bring it to his attention, that I’ve noticed. It’s just one day I passed him a bottle of beer in the kitchen, and he mumbled something like “nah, I’m good”, and next day I saw him opening the fridge to pour himself some orange juice. And the next day, we were watching something, and I put a cold six pack on a table. He didn’t touch it. So I just quit offering. 

I didn’t ask.

 Now Dean is siting next to Cas on a backseat. Today, it’s been two weeks since Jack brought him back home, but Dean is still always around him, ready to catch him if he is dizzy again (yeah, it still happens sometimes), or he’s disoriented, or unexpectedly weak. Cas feels much better, though. But we constantly keep an eye on him. Well, I’d say I try to, but Dean doesn’t seem to let me, you know?  Actually, it’s the first time he left the bunker in these two weeks. He rarely even leaves Cas’ room, though, maybe only when he cooks for him or goes to the library to grab another book. When Cas falls asleep, he walks out, and we usually talk in the kitchen or wherever. 

 When we go to sleep to our rooms, Dean doesn’t stays in his for long. 

Two months ago he couldn’t sleep in his room, too, but the reasons were different. I remember constantly finding him in the morning, sleeping anywhere else but his bed. Face on the table in the kitchen, in the armchair in the library, on the couch in his cave. One time I’ve found him in the backseat of Impala in the garage. Dean used to drink himself to sleep, when times were tough. Now that he quit, he just stayed up until he passed out. No need to be genius, to figure he’s been having nightmares. No need to be genius, to figure what those nightmares were about. I still see the burning ceiling in my dreams, rarely, but yeah, I do.

And yeah, he told me he’s having nightmares. He told me not to worry about it, cause it’s a normal reaction, and it will pass. 

What he didn’t told me, Jack did.

That day, I woke up and went to the kitchen to fill my water bottle and go for a jog. Jack was there. Just standing next to the fridge, drinking milk.

To be honest, at first I thought I was still dreaming. But then he raised his hand “hi” and I… 

“Hi Sam!”

“Jack… is it really you? I mean… hey!” I’m not sure if I supposed to hug God but well, I did. And he hugged me back and for a moment it felt like everything is back as it used to be. As it used to be, yeah. Our kid drinking milk in our kitchen.

It was 6 in the morning, and I’ve had one of the most complicated conversations I’ve ever had in my life.

Jack told me everything. About the deal Cas made to save him. About the price of that deal. 

About Dean praying to him every single night for the past weeks. 

Jack was good, though, he coped very well with all his new responsibilities; hell is fine, Earth is fine, new Death is great, heaven is getting some renovations, and angels are finally calm and satisfied. The only problem is the Empty. Since he detonated himself in front of Cosmic Entity, he has no idea what was  happening there. If Chuck was able to bring angels and demons from there, it changed, apparently, after the explosion, because the structure of the void has been damaged.

“Every time I try to reach it, it’s like I’m walking in the dark, like I’ve lost the path and I have no idea where I should go. I tried to summon the Entity, tried to open the portal - nothing works.” Jack looked concerned and dreary. “I don’t know what is happening there. I can only guess, everyone’s awake there. And they all are supposed to rest, supposed to sleep. If I made them suffer…” He looked at me with remorse in his eyes. “Castiel is there too. Sam, what if he…”

I felt sick. What if Jack’s right? What if all the dead angels and demons are going crazy in there? What if Cas sacrificed himself again only to suffer for the eternity?

“They all deserve to rest, and I need to make sure they are. And I want him back, Sam. I want my father back”

“Yeah… yeah. We all do. We just didn’t think it is somehow possible again”

“I’ll make it possible, I promise. I’ll keep trying. But I don’t know if I should answer to Dean’s prayers. I cannot fill him with hope, I need to make sure…”

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t think he’ll be able to handle it, if we end up failing…”

“He probably thinks I’m an asshole” Jack grinned bitterly. “Or that I’m too busy, or I forgot…”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t pray to Jack cause I missed him too bad, and I didn’t think I’ll ever see him again. And about Castiel, I just understood it’s impossible to bring him back, the second everyone else have returned. If that were possible, Jack would bring him back with everyone else, too. I didn’t realise there may be a different possibility.

“You really think you can do this? Bring him back?” I asked instead. 

“I have to. And I will” He looked at me, stubborn and determined. “I just need time”

I took a deep breath. That was heavy. Seeing Jack again, knowing the truth about Cas. Stay silent for Dean. This is not the first time I have been hiding something from my brother. But at least now it is more than justified.

Next week Eileen arrived, and things got a little better. Dean was very happy to see her, though, like, really glad. The three of us been spending a lot of time together, constantly chatting about everything, watching movies, cooking, even playing board games. What can I say? Eileen is a ball of sunshine, of course everything’s better in her presence. 

And I knew Dean felt better, too. Since there were no news from Jack in weeks, I decided it was a good tactic, to keep the bunker filled with people we love. So, I called everyone, and the next month was full with friendly visits. 

Kaia and Claire came first and stayed for few days, they were on a hunt in a town nearby. Then Jody and Alex joined us. They both took two weeks leave from work and decided to spend some of it with us. Gotta say, I was upset when they left. Not least because Dean stopped making delicious “special occasion” pancakes for breakfast.

Charlie and Stevie called. They were on a vacation too -  just left to travel around Europe for a month. Yeah, good for them. They promised to meet up with us as soon as they come back. 

Donna couldn't make it to us, cause she was too busy. Things were relatively quiet in Stillwater, but her deputy got sick, so she had to work a little harder those days. So me, Eileen and Dean went to visit her instead. Those were two good days, a lot of hugs and donuts and the latest police gossips. 

The next stop was Garth's house, and Eileen was extremely excited to meet the whole werewolf family. Little Cas and Sam grew bigger and Garth warned us to be careful now with their teeth. Good point. We didn't stay for long though, just for dinner, but Eileen is now Gertie's bestie, and Gertie calls her "giant's girlfriend".

Not long after we got back to bunker, Bobby stopped by for a beer. He was doing well, too, same as all the rest of the survived refugees from the Apocalypse world. They all quit hunting and settled in Lebanon, living their lives peacefully. It was good to see him, all clean and calm. He deserved his retirement.

That was, actually, the exact moment I realised I don’t want to hunt anymore. I’m done. No more blood on my hands. 

Yeah, there’s still a lot of things to hunt in this world. But I just don’t want to. But we’re still the last men of letters. Why not to become…a mentors? Turn bunker into headquarters again? We can’t just leave all the lore, all the knowledge here, untouched.

This thought has firmly settled in the backyard of my mind. Yes, we'll come back to this later, for sure. When we will figure out all the things. 

A nice month, yeah. Then Eileen went to help her friends with a little ghoul problem. I must say, I’m still overprotective, but at least I agreed to let her go by herself, since she gave me The Look. Okay, three of them will be there, one ghoul. They can handle it. Besides, “Girl needs to have fun sometimes, Sam!” and yes, she needed some space. And she promised to keep me updated. 

It was the evening I’ve received “All done! That was too easy, I’m disappointed. We’re driving to their place now, it’s couple of hours. Facetime you soon!” No, I wasn’t relieved, because I wasn’t worried, honestly! But still went to Dean’s cave, where he was watching something, to tell him the news.

“Hey, got a message from Eileen, she kicked that ghoul’s ass”

“Ha! I didn't doubt her!” Dean grinned at me, making a sound of the TV quieter.

“Yeah, she probably will be home in few days. Listen…”

I didn’t finish. Bright light filled the corridor.

“Sam. Now” I couldn’t even see his face, but Jack’s voice was loud and high with emotion. 

“What?? Jack??” I screamed back.

“What is happening?” Dean ran out the room, facing the light in the hallway. “Jack?? Sam, what’s going on?” 

“Sorry, I didn't have time to warn you. It happened all at once. Sam, I'm coming in, I found the entrance. I can do it, I know. Explain to him, tell him…” And he disappeared.

We were standing there, shaking in shock.

“What the hell is going on? Explain me what? Sam? The fuck is happening? Was that Jack?” 

I wasn’t ready for this, it happened not the way I imagined. I though I’ll have enough time for this conversation. What was I suppose to do? Explain? How?? 

Dean was looking at me, eyes wide with concern. Okay, okay… just gonna tell it the way it is, calm and slow.

“Yeah, it was Jack…” And my mouth turned dry.

“….and?” Dean kept looking at me “Explain what? Sam, cmon! He was worried, goddamit! What’s going on?”

“Okay, okay… He, umm. For the past months he’s been trying to get to The Empty” 

Dean was speechless. He turned pale.

“He couldn’t get there, he couldn’t even summon the Entity to talk. He thought it was because of the explosion. But he, umm, he kept on trying. He promised me he will keep trying.”

“He… promised you?” 

“Yeah… He appeared here, a little more then a month ago. He…” It was hard to look into my brother’s eyes, but somehow, I did it. “Dean, he was trying to bring Cas back. All this time”

His expression was unreadable. Something between anger, fear, disbelief and shock. 

“And you didn’t tell me…”

“Because he asked. Because he wasn’t sure how long will it take. He wanted to tell you, when he’s ready to do it. And I didn’t want to tell you too, because if we fail at this…”

“Okay, shut up” He leaned into the wall, all trembling, trying to calm his breath. “He said… he said “Now!” Does it mean… Sammy, what does it mean?” 

There was a plea in his eyes. So much fear. And a plea.

“Yes.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “You've heard him”

Dean grabbed my shoulder.

“Sammy…”

The bunker started to shake -  the walls, the floor, as like an earthquake. 

“Sammy… the dungeon”

And we ran, as fast as we could.

So yeah, today we finally went to buy Cas some closes, although he seems to like all those Dean’s hoodies, he looks like an E.T., when he wears them.

Nothing extraordinary, just basic stuff like jeans and shirts and sweaters. Though Dean bought him a cowboy hat, and I swear I could hear quiet “Not again..” from Cas. But he scored with picking one of the world’s ugliest sweaters that I’ve ever seen - blue, with a giant yellow bee on the front. Dean’s face was pure shock when he saw that one, and he immediately put it out of the shopping basket, shaking his head. But the second Cas got distracted with his shoelaces, Dean put that ugly piece back and quickly went to the checkout. 

Now he’s drinking strawberry milkshake in the backseat.

It’s a movie night tonight. Eileen makes popcorn.

[join-the-joywrite]

and I don't want to (but I love you)

@jatp-week Day 6: favourite trope

Not me doing a self-indulgent and stupidly long enemies to lovers au :>

Julie Molina didn't have enemies in her life. She had competitors, sure. Everyone did. But Sunset Curve took the whole cake. She didn't have enemies but Luke Patterson came dangerously close.

Luke Patterson, on the other hand, fully considered Julie Molina his number one enemy. He had zero qualms about saying that to her face and behind her back. He knew his band was the best but Julie had a real knack for knocking his ego down a bit and he hated her for it. Maybe he wouldn't get so riled up if she was nice about it or if not nice, she was less nasty and more stern. Honestly, it seemed like she took pleasure in criticizing Sunset Curve.

The rivalry between them extended to their bands and friend circles. Well, for the most part, anyway. Julie and Luke let Willie and Alex get away with their little forbidden lovers thing because they both thought the pair was cute together. It was pretty much the only thing they agreed on. Ever.

Willie only ever talked about Alex, not the band and Alex made sure to steer clear of mentioning Julie whenever he talked about Willie. The arrangement worked for all sides.

Julie and Luke's rivalry extended far beyond their music. It crept into their classes and had them fighting for the top spot. The teachers were thrilled. It meant Luke put in as much effort as he possibly could into every assignment or test. Even if it was out of pure spite, it was working.

And then, oh dear, and then there was a group project. Obviously, they split to opposite ends of the room with their friends to choose pairs (except Willie and Alex, who were shoved together and assured it was perfect) but apparently, it was important to learn how to work with people you dislike because in the workplace you might be forced to work with people you dislike -- or something like that.

Julie and Luke had never let their rivalry coerce them into doing stupid things -- except the one time where Carrie was convinced Luke could hold his breath longer and Julie almost drowned in the school pool to prove Carrie wrong -- but the moment they were paired up, Julie and Luke both wanted nothing more than to break several school rules, vandalism being the top one and starting violent fights being the second. It was unclear if they wanted to fight each other or their teacher.

Matters were made worse when their friends got to pair off together on their own terms while they were stuck with each other. The only thing keeping them from completely refusing to do any work was that they both were still competing for the highest scores.

Their friends had never been more entertained and the two opposing groups bonded over watching the two most stubborn people they knew suffer out a school project together. The clear awkwardness between them was hilarious and it was a pleasant thing to see them sitting at the same table and not trying to verbally murder each other. Bobby turned out to be the funniest person in the whole group. He had a meme-y caption for every moment they caught of Julie and Luke sitting near enough to have a normal conversation and the others loved it. He also seemed to be able to relate all the memes to the pair and was strangely good at photoshop, which earned him the Groupchat King title. (Julie and Luke were completely unaware of this groupchat excluding only them -- which, for the others' safety, was for the best.) Flynn's favourite was a photo of Julie with a feral look on her face, miming strangling a smug Luke. Me & 2020 was Bobby's winning caption. She wasn't sure which was which and that made it even better, in her opinion.

As the weeks passed, Julie and Luke's rivalry mellowed. As far as they said, it was still going strong but their actions told another story. There were playful nudges in the hallway, now. Teasing death glares across a classroom. Locked gazes and stifled giggles at inside jokes -- the fact that they even had those was surprising enough. They willingly shared a lunch table for the sole purpose of interrupting a mini date between Willie and Alex but most of it was spent in their own world anyway. Their mockery of each other had become gentler and more harmless teasing than anything.

And then one Tuesday, Luke didn't show up at school.

Of course, Luke's band knew exactly what was up, but they -- with support from Julie's friends -- decided it would be fun to play dumb and send Julie to Luke's house, just to check up on him, you know, despite the fact that the group project was long over and she really had no need to meddle further into Luke's life. The mere fact that Julie forgot she still had class and was seriously ready to leave immediately said a lot.

"I can promise you that it's really not as bad as it looks," Luke said from under several pillows, a puffy duvet and maybe three stuffed animals, "but there's no band practice today and I'm not coming to school tomorrow either so can one of you flick Julie's forehead for me? It's tradition."

"Band practice, huh?" Julie said, dropping her bag on the floor with a soft thud. "And here I thought you just had nothing more interesting going on in your life than disrupting mine."

Luke sat up fast enough that his head spun, his vision swam and two pillows fell off the bed. "Who told you where I live?"

"You did, dork. Here, I brought your homework and my dad's trying something out in the kitchen. He misread balf the recipe so it's the blandest thing I've ever tasted but if you're sick, it'll be good for you."

Luke responded to the bit that made sense. "I don't want bland food," he said, scrunching up his nose as Julie set a small stack of papers on the desk in the corner and walked up to him with a covered bowl.

"As if you'd know the difference. Your mom said you can't taste anything anyway."

"You talked to my mom?" Luke asked, looking mortified.

"Yeah, duh. What, did you think I climbed through your bedroom window? I don't care that much for you."

"Aww, I knew you cared for me."

Julie didn't respond to it. "So this is supposed to be a vegetable stew," she said, tapping the plastic wrap over the bowl, "but like I said, mistakes were made."

"Well, what is it then?" Luke asked, leaning over to peer at the bowl.

"I'd call it . . . semi-flavoured water with surprise veggies."

"Joy."

"I know, right? Anyway, I'll leave you to your . . . pillow fort? Cute stuffies. I have the same penguin."

Luke glanced at the penguin that was still secured in his arm. "Don't you dare tell your friends. Especially not Flynn. She's ruthless."

"She is not. But fine, only because you're sick. I'll be back for my bowl tomorrow and it better be empty."

Luke watched Julie leave with a look of amazement. As soon as he heard his front door close, footsteps pattered through the hallway, leading up to his mother sticking her head in his room. "I like her."

"I'm going back to sleep," Luke said, diving back into the safety of all his pillows, wondering if it was the fever or Julie that set his cheeks blazing.

Probably the fever.

"Good afternoon, dork. Reggie says you said you liked the semi-flavoured water and my dad felt very appreciated by that so he's made some actual stew for you to try. It's beef stew this time so please don't get surprised. Did you do yesterday's homework? You should, because I brought today's. How do you feel?"

Luke, who had been staring at Julie with his mouth slightly open in a perfect picture of surprise, blinked when he realised she'd stopped speaking. "Don't you knock?!"

"Your mom said you were asleep and I could just leave everything here for you but you were awake so. . ." Julie trailed off, shrugging.

"You . . . you are so strange."

Julie shrugged as she set the homework down on the desk and walked up to the nightstand to put the covered bowl down in Luke's reach. "You need to come back to school. I feel bad bullying your friends."

"I'm sure they'll be glad to hear that," Luke said sarcastically. He paused for a second. "Yeah, I did the homework. Most of it. My mom said it'll help to get out of bed and do something. I tried to play the guitar but she was adamant I didn't do that something."

Julie nodded and walked back to Luke's desk. She rifled through the mess and picked up all the homework. "I'll finish this essay for you," she said almost absently, searching among the pages. "Please tell me you did your science homework. I got a lot of that wrong and no one wants to give me the answers because apparently, I should learn my work."

"Uh . . . yeah. Um, yeah, I did the science. Wh-- what do you mean 'do the essay' for me?"

Julie looked up as she gathered everything into a pile of messy and uneven papers. "It's on the African American civil rights movement. It's factual and ninety percent of the class will have the same essay anyway so--"

"No. No, I mean . . . why?"

"Oh. Uh . . . why not?"

Luke didn't have a response, so he fell silent.

"Well, that's all of yesterday's homework. Get some rest and then make sure you eat. I can't have my favourite punching bag get too weak to take a hit."

As Julie turned and left his room, Luke felt the sudden urge to scream, so instead, he slammed his burning face into his favourite penguin. Yes, she had called him a punching bag, but she'd also called him her favourite.

"Music class just isn't the same without booing you. Also, Alex said you managed to keep the beef stew down yesterday so my dad thought you could try something a little heavier. This is an experimental chicken and fried rice . . . thing. I do not reccomend eating unless you're sure you're okay enough for a full meal. That said, I brought more beef stew in case you're not up for the chicken and rice."

"You can't just walk in unannounced!" Luke cried as Julie set down the two bowls on the nightstand.

"I can, actually," Julie said, flashing a set of keys at Luke.

Luke's jaw dropped when he recognized the keychains. "Hey, those are mine!"

"Wow, so observant. Your mom gave it to me before I left yesterday because your dad is at work and she needed to go out today and with you holed up in here, there wouldn't be anyone to open for me."

Luke frowned. "Oh, yeah, she said something like that but I was half-asleep."

Julie was pleasantly surprised to find Luke's homework neatly gathered at the corner of the desk. It didn't escape her how Luke seemed to glow with pride when she commented on it. She had to fight a smile as she dropped Luke's homework into her bag.

"Get some rest, dork. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call someone from Sunset Swerve. I'll be busy."

"It's Sunset CURVE and you know it."

"Really? I never noticed."

Luke pouted. "Tuxedo Sam says you're being very mean right now. I'm sick and I deserve care."

"Well, you can tell your stupid penguin that Skipper will beat his ass."

"You named your penguin after the penguins from Madagascar?"

"You call yours Tuxedo Sam."

"Yeah, okay, that's fair."

Julie rolled her eyes and turned to leave. "Take a nap, Moody McSleeveless."

Luke glanced at the penguin laying nearby as he heard Julie lock up the house again. "Don't look at me like that, she's mean all the time."

"I BROUGHT CAKE!"

Luke scrambled up, launching Tuxedo Sam off the bed. "Who died?"

"No one died," Julie said, picking up the penguin as she walked up to Luke's bed. "It's Friday and since you're doing a little better, I thought you could do with a small treat. Tuxedo Sam agrees."

"Give me back my penguin," Luke said, reaching both arms out to Julie.

"Did you do yesterday's homework?"

"Yes."

"Did you really eat both bowls of food yesterday?"

"Yes."

"And keep it down?"

"Yes, ma'am, now can I please have my penguin back?"

Julie passed Luke the stuffed animal. "You're adorable," she blurted, turning away immediately to hide her own stunned look. She cleared her throat as she headed to the desk to grab Luke's homework. "So, that group project? We got a ninety-five."

That distracted Luke easily enough. "What happened to the other five?!"

"We're very bad at teamwork," Julie said, glancing back at Luke over her shoulder to see him relax against the pillows.

"Ah. That . . . makes sense."

Julie nodded. "Mhm."

The silence that blanketed the room wasn't as awkward as it should have been.

"I have to go. Most of the teachers said it would be okay to get your homework on Monday, but Mr Hughes is on my tail about your chemistry paper. My dad is making cupcakes tonight for some reason and I told Willie he could have some, so I'll send extra with him to give to Alex to give to you, but enjoy that crappy store cake for now. I left proper lunch with your mom for when you feel like it."

It didn't register that the only reason Mr Hughes would be harassing Julie about Luke's homework was if Julie herself had taken responsibility for Luke. Well, it did register, but by then, Julie was long gone and the only response Luke could muster was a muffled scream into poor Tuxedo Sam.

"Oh, ew, gross. Luke, it smells like the middle school locker room in here. What were you doing?"

Luke had never looked more sheepish in his life as he pointed to the canister on his nightstand -- right next to his alarm clock. "My phone went off about an hour ago and I thought it was the alarm so I did the smart thing and slammed it down but I missed. Obviously."

Holding her nose, Julie dropped everything she was carrying on Luke's table and tore the curtains open, pushing the windows as far as they could go. She stood there for a moment, relishing in the fresh air. "I'll come back inside when I can breathe," Julie said, halfway out the window.

Luke wanted to melt into his pillows. A week later and he was only feeling slightly better. The pros of it was that Julie visited every day with something tasty and a level of snark that only amused him. The cons of it was that Julie visited every day and left him flustered and red in the face.

He firmly believed that Julie only came by every day because she had homework to drop off, but today was Saturday. There was no more homework to drop off.

And she could have just backtracked right out the door again but instead, she headed for the windows on the other side of his room. Why?

Because she's taking care of you, dork.

Luke couldn't help but think that the logical voice in his head sounded suspiciously like Julie.

"Hey, my parents have some stupid couple's yoga thing on Saturdays. Did you break in?"

Julie pulled the windows halfway closed and stepped back into the room. "No, I still have your keys. Your dad tried to give me the spare key to the front door but your mom said it'll be fine if I kept yours until you're back on your feet."

"Wow. She really trusts you, huh?"

Julie shrugged. "I'm a very trustworthy person."

"No, you're not. I saw you lose a pen that you stuck behind your ear and then you proceeded to lose three more by tucking them behind your other ear and in your pockets. You then tried to steal mine."

"I was fourteen," Julie said defensively.

"It happened last week!"

"I felt fourteen."

Luke gave Julie a deadpan look.

"Cute pyjamas."

"I know, right? Bobby got us matching ones when we were like fifteen for band bonding. I mean, I grew out of the pants but the shirt still fits."

Julie scoffed as she stared at the dark haired cartoon smiling at her from the pink shirt. "Looks really good on you, Skip."

"Hey, I like being Skipper. She's Barbie's most intelligent sister."

"Oh, yeah?" Luke didn't even notice that Julie had made herself comfortable at the foot of his bed. "And if you're Skipper, who are the others?"

"Bobby is Chelsea, 'cause he's the youngest of us, Alex is Barbie, 'cause his summer jobs have been everywhere, and Reg is Stacie, 'cause she's Bobby's favourite and Bobby's favourite bandmate is Reg."

Julie's head tilted slightly. "You sound drunk."

"The bottle said one teaspoon of cough syrup but I didn't read and I took two tablespoons. It's okay, though. Mom panicked and called the doctor and he says the cough syrup he gave me is for kids and I'm just really, really, really intolerant. Which you should remember for me because I plan to be super famous with the band and there are gonna be a lot of after parties and I don't wanna get drunk five minutes in. I think the cough syrup is kicking in."

"Luke Patterson, you are unbelievable."

"I know, right?" He attempted a winning smile, but it came off as plain childlike.

Julie chastised herself for finding him adorable. They were mortal enemies and she had to remember that. Then what are you doing in his room on a Saturday, after explicitly telling the rest of his band to stay away?

Julie found it unnerving how much the voice in her head sounded like a teasing Luke.

"You're like, really annoying."

Julie frowned. "I -- I'm sorry?"

"You should be." Luke was sitting cross-legged now, fiddling with the ears of a stuffed bunny. "It's really messing with my head."

Julie decided she liked tipsy Luke -- even if it was just cough syrup. "How so?"

"No, it's nothing."

"You can tell me, Luke. I promised not to tell anyone about your stuffed animals and I kept it, right?"

"Yeah, but this time the secret about you. You're not allowed to know."

Curiosity more than anything made Julie lean forward slightly. "It'll be our secret."

"Okay, but you have to promise not to talk about it."

Julie nodded quickly. Luke tugged at the bunny's ears for a moment.

"You're like . . . really pretty."

Julie couldn't help the soft laugh that bubbled out of her. Adorable, she thought.

"Like, a lot of pretty. You're pretty on the inside, too."

"On the inside?"

"Yeah. On the inside. You know, your heart."

"M-my heart?"

Luke nodded at his stuffed rabbit. "Yeah. You have a really pretty heart. It beats like a drum. Making music. Like you."

Julie's mouth hung open, surprise silencing her.

"You have the prettiest music in you. I can hear it like -- like a song that gets stuck in my head all day. It's really annoying but it's so pretty. It smells like flowers and it looks like butterflies."

At this point, Julie didn't think she'd be able to speak, even if she knew what to say. Luke was talking to the stuffed animal, frowning as he struggled to voice his thoughts understandably.

"Sometimes it's just so loud and I wanna cover my ears and run away but it just gets louder and louder and then you come over and you're saying something mean but the music is there and it's not so loud anymore but I still can't hear anything else. Your heart sounds like a ballad."

Julie was frozen to her seat at the edge of the bed. Part of her wondered if it was Luke talking or the fever. Part of her desperately hoped it was Luke.

"Julie, you are music."

It was a simple sentence. Anyone could have said it. It could mean a lot or it could mean nothing at all. If anyone else had said it to her, she would have taken it as the highest form of a compliment. But that wasn't what Luke was saying.

Everyone knew that Luke spoke best through lyrics and chords. His books and desks were covered in etched notes and scribbled words. Luke lived and breathed music. It was everything to him. Without it, Luke didn't know who he was.

And he compared it to Julie.

Julie stared at the text on her phone. She bit her lower lip, unsure of what to say in response.

Mom said you visited yesterday. I was dazed for most of it. I didn't say anything stupid or incriminating, right? Not that anything could be more incriminating than the three stuffed animals on my bed.

Ten minutes after that, another had come through. Jules, are you ignoring me? Did I do something?

Then another five minutes later. This is still Julie Molina's number, right?

Julie quickly typed out something before she chickened out again and tossed her phone to the foot of her bed once it was sent.

Hey. Got busy in the kitchen with dad. No, you're good. See you at school tomorrow?

Julie scrambled for her phone to send one last word.

A few streets away, Luke stared at the word 'dork'. He was sure he had said something. He vaguely remembered yapping on about music to Julie -- duh, what else did they share? -- and then suddenly, she wasn't there anymore. He wondered if he'd fallen asleep talking and Julie had left then or if he really had said something to make her leave.

Yeah, he wrote back, see you at school.

Luke cornered Julie as soon as he caught sight of her in the school hallway. "You've been ignoring me and I don't like that."

Julie squeaked. "I most definitely am not ignoring you."

"Julie, you're pretty much the only person in this school that doesn't keep their phone on mute or vibrate. I know you heard my texts yesterday."

"So what if I am?" Julie asked, folding her arms. "We're not friends, so why should you care if I reply to your texts or not? In fact, why were you even messaging me in the first place?"

While Luke fumbled for a response, Julie slipped past him and continued on her way to class.

"Oh, that is just rude!" Luke yelled after Julie.

She ignored him all through any classes they shared and when lunch rolled around, she made sure to sit with Carrie and Flynn at a small table. Luke had never looked more offended in his life as he joined Reggie in sitting with Alex and Willie.

"What did you do on Saturday?" Alex asked, leaning forward to whisper. "Julie was fine when she told us we don't need to come by at all."

"Julie told you not to come over?" Luke asked, ripping his gaze from Julie to Alex and then Reggie, who shook his head.

"Bro, she actually called Alex and told him that we don't need to come see you because she was going to."

"Yeah, I remember her being there but I was drugged up on cough syrup."

"Weak," Alex whispered loudly, grinning when he made Willie laugh.

"Maybe you said something?" Willie suggested.

"Yeah, probably! But she's not talking to me. She's not even insulting me, which I would very much prefer over this apathy."

"You know where she lives," Reggie said dismissively. "Maybe you should pay her a visit."

Luke glanced across the cafeteria to see Julie quickly whip her head down to stare at her fold. "Yeah. Maybe."

Julie was tired and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Her plans were thrown way off the rails when she walked into her room and found Luke petering around the shelves beside her bed.

"What are you doing here?"

Luke drew his hand back sharply. "Cute box. What's in it?"

"None of your business," Julie snapped, hurriedly closing her bedroom door. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you but you were ignoring me and--"

"You could've just yelled at me from outside," Julie hissed. "I would have come down to shut you up! You can't be in here. Get out of my room."

"No. Not until you tell me why you've been avoiding me since Saturday. Jules, what--"

"Fine! Go and wait for me in the garage. I'll come talk to you in there."

Luke hesitated, unsure if Julie was serious.

When she heard footsteps getting closer, Julie grabbed Luke by the neckline of his shirt and dragged him to the window. "Get out," she whispered hurriedly, "I'll come down to the garage, I promise."

Thankfully, by the time her father arrived, Luke was gone.

"Who were you talking to, mija?"

"Luke," Julie said with a smile. She pointed at the phone. "He liked the cupcakes I sent with Willie."

"Oh, that's great. You didn't take something yesterday and today? Is he feeling better?"

"Much," Julie said, nodding, "in fact, we have some talking to do, so I'm gonna meet him in the garage in a few minutes."

"So late?"

Julie absolutely could not lie to her dad. But she could do half truths. "It's a long overdue discussion."

"School work?"

Julie shrugged. "Music."

"Ah. The garage makes sense. Well, do you wanna take some food down? Midnight snack?"

"Thanks, dad," Julie said with a smile, "you're the best."

"Oh, your dad is the best!" Luke cried as soon as he saw Julie walk in with a plate of cookies.

"These are experimental, too. They're some kind of oatmeal and choc mint blend. They taste good, in my opinion."

"Everything your dad makes tastes good," Luke said, grabbing three cookies. "My mom's starting to get jealous of how much I love your dad's cooking."

Juli smiled and set the plate down on the coffee table. Was there any point beating around the bush? Sugarcoating things?

"You told me I was music."

Luke paused, one and a half cookies gone. "What?"

Julie kept her gaze trained on the tassels of the carpet. "You told me I'm annoying . . . because I'm pretty. Because I have a pretty heart. You said it beats like a drum and I have the prettiest music in me that gets stuck in your head. It --"

"Smells like spring and looks like butterflies. . ." Luke looked positively mortified.

Julie, refusing to look up, did not notice. "You said . . . you said my heart sounds like a ballad and then -- and then you told me I am music."

Had he really said all that aloud? Well, no wonder Julie was avoiding him like the plague.

Julie tensed up when she could see Luke's feet step in front of her. Almost every part of her screamed that this was wrong. They shouldn't be so close without bickering and fighting. But deeper within, beyond the confines of logic and sense, Luke's voice told her that this was the furthest thing from wrong.

"I said all that? Aloud?"

Julie nodded.

"You know what music is to me."

Julie nodded again.

"Jules," Luke said gently. "Julie, look at me."

Julie refused to, so Luke gingerly tucked his finger under her chin and lifted her head, waiting until her gaze fell on him before speaking.

"You know what music is to me," he said again, prompting another nod from Julie. "Then you know what you mean to me."

Julie blinked a few times and shook her head. "No. No, that's just the fever talking. You -- you didn't really mean all of that."

"If you really believe that, why are you avoiding me?"

"I . . . I don't know."

Luke dropped his hand to take hold of Julie's. He glanced at her, waiting for her to pull away. When she didn't, he interlocked his fingers with hers. "I meant every word. Okay, maybe not literally, but you know what I mean."

Julie shook her head. "We're not even friends, Luke."

"Hm, well, who said I wanted to be your friend?"

Julie wanted to hate Luke. She wanted to loathe the sight of him. She didn't want to like him, let alone love him.

And yet, she did.

So before the overthinker in her could stop her, Julie leaned up on tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. Luke beamed at her like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Not the response I was expecting, but definitely one I'm enjoying."

"Don't make me regret it."

"Yes, ma'am. Now, what are my chances of getting two more? And one for the road? Within the next five seconds becaus my mom doesn't know I snuck out and she think I'm still sick."

"Dork," Julie said fondly, shaking her head.

"I'm serious!"

"You can have two."

"Three."

"Two."

"Four."

"One."

"Two will do," Luke said, letting go of Julie's hands to wrap his arms around her. He gave her a small squeeze. "Plus a hug."

"Dork," Julie said again. But he was her dork and he was her favourite.

Before anyone comes for me about the cough syrup thing, I'm drawing from experience. I mean I never confessed my undying love for anyone but I did blurt out some weird shit. Also, THAT WAS LONG AND IF YOU SURVIVED THE ENTIRE THING, CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU

Mara's masterlist

[borat123]

Analysis Pro NH Anti NS

Naruto Manga Part 2

Part 5

Naruto is seen thinking about Sasuke and seems sad that Sasuke doesn’t wanna come back to the village. After their encounter with him in Orochimaru’s base, it was obvious that Sasuke was a lot stronger than Naruto and that he needed to be more powerful to fight him. (But it is said that Sasuke actually used drugs to speed up his training, so he was probably a bit stronger than he should have. Also Naruto was weakened after his transformation into the four tails.) Anyways his thoughts get interrupted by Sakura and Sai.

Naruto says that he was ”devising a plan for them to look like they were going on a date”. But that’s not true, he was just thinking about Sasuke so why would Naruto say this? Also his face is not very serious at all either. Well first of all Naruto knows that Sakura loves Sasuke and he knows that he doesn’t actually have a chance with her (He knows this since part 1, probably even after chapter 3). He probably just says this to get a reaction from her and/or to piss her off. We all know Naruto used to be a prankster and he annoyed people to get their attention because it was better than to be ignored. The deeper reason behind him wanting to become Hokage is actually because he thinks that they hold the biggest amount of respect and then everyone would acknowledge his existence. He probably did more serious pranks on Sakura in the Academy and that’s probably why she used to hate him. He probably did pranks on everyone in his class except for Hinata who he probably thought was too nice.

Sakura is probably just joking but still, this girl calls him an idiot ALL THE TIME. Naruto even says she’s overdoing it. But maybe he’s indirectly saying that his previous statement about that date was also a joke? Naruto is also finally opening up more to Sai so that’s good.(i’ll be honest i didn’t like Sai when he was first introduced since i didn’t understand his point in the story, but he’s grown on me and he’s actually one of the funniest character and i like him for calling out on team 7:s bullshit).

Sai called her ugly. He’s right, she got an ugly personality. Also Naruto continues with the overdoing it thing (he probably thinks everyone is still joking). No but seriously when i first watched this in the anime i literally laughed out load and i never really do that. (Sai is awesome).

After their talk with Kakashi in the hospital Team 7 and Team 10 go and eat barbeque. Sai knows about Sakura’s reaction when he honestly told her what he thought of her. So he says the opposite to Ino and Sakura gets very mad since she wanted him to say the same thing to Ino (i know they are rivals, but what kinda friend genuinely wants that?). Anyways look at Naruto’s face, he KNOWS how she’s gonna react (he knows she’s a huge bitch).

I’ll be skipping the Rasenshuriken arc since there isn’t any important things regarding these topics there (just fighting and training arc).

We continue into the Second Sasuke Retrival Arc where Naruto is teamed up with Hinata. Naruto seems pleased with teaming up with her and he gives her a gentle smile. Look at how pissed and serious he was before but then when Hinata showed up he calmed down and looked happy. Its like her very presence makes him serene. Honestly if he got teamed up with Sakura (or anyone else) he would have still looked pissed and serious and just said ”Yeah!”.

A little of topic here but its relevant in chronological order for the story.

I’ve heard alot of people say that Jiraiya was weak because he lost against Pain. The thing is had Jiraiya known the same intel that Naruto did about Pain he probably could of defeated all of the paths EVEN the deva path and i’ll explain why. Since they were fighting in the rain village, Nagato wouldn’t have gone all out and used chibaku tensei or shinra tensei to avoid destroying his village. And that’s what Pain meant with that statement above. Had the deva path used all those jutsus though Jiraiya would have lost. Jiraiya should not be underrestimated though, to even take out 3 paths with no intel is still a huge feat since Pain is EXTREMELY POWERFUL. (Nerd rant over)

I’ll skip forward to here, Naruto hears about Jiraiya’s death and is angry over Tsunade’s decision of letting him go to the Rain Village. Naruto doesn’t show it, but he loves Jiraiya like a father figure and his death hits him hard. Also why is Sakura trying to scold Naruto here? She should know that Naruto spent alot of time with his former master and that he is upset over his death. Also if Naruto and Sakura were so ”close” then why didn’t he open up to her later about his grief over Jiraiya’s death, instead of just ignoring her? Honestly for being teammates they are actually very distant from each other. Naruto cant even be himself around her and acts stupid most off the time. There is no denying that Naruto didn’t even open up to any of his teammates first (not even Iruka). He actually opened up to Hinata about acting tough and putting on a bravado and how he actually was angry all the time because he saw himself as a failure. (It was probably her calm demeanour and charm that made him feel comfortable to open up to her, also because he sees her as a kindred spirit that would understand).

But after 3+ years he cant even open up to Sakura? For being teammates they are actually very distant from each other and you can tell that its a forced friendship just by reading the manga alone. It would have been easy for Kishi to give a better relationship but he did this on purpose for a reason. Naruto cant even act like himself and just acts stupid around her because they are so distant from each other. The only thing that brought them closer was their obsession with Sasuke.

Naruto wants to avenge his master and wants to beat Pain and thus wants Shizune to hurry up with the investigation of one of the Pain bodies. Look at what Sakura was saying too. She might be in the right Naruto shouldn’t stress her work but Sakura seriously doesn’t need to say the things she does to him. ”Throw him through a wall” da fuq?! He just ignores her again because as i’ve said in a previous part, if he talks back she is gonna hurt him.

That will be the end of this part. Next time we’ll be going over the Pain Arc, probably my favorite arc in the series. There is a HUGE NaruHina Moment there and i’ll have a lot to say about it so it will probably take more than just one part.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

[someone-worth-racing-for]

You know when some girlfriends/boyfriends are a bit insecure and they’re in a long distance relationship and they get a little anxious when their partner took some time to answer their texts or to call them back? They will say things like “why you didn’t text me back?” or “why you took so long?” or even “were you with someone else?” I know it’s not healthy for a relationship, but sometimes people are just too hurt about a past they had or too insecure. Sometimes it’s really bad for real. Would you consider writing something that shows Lando being like this with Carlos? Set around the time Carlos was already in Italy and had to spend a lot of time with the Ferrari team and Lando would understand this, but at night when he thought he would have Carlos’s attention, he didn’t. Some evenings he didn’t have a text back, but that was because Carlos was working late with the team and his phone died off, something along this. But Lando being insecure, he would freak out with his boyfriend in the next day.

Yeah, I exactly know what you mean, anonym - haven’t we all been there once? Or at least haven't we asked ourselves those questions at least once, when someone didn’t answer instantly? I can so picture Lando to be that way, even without wanting so and also actually exactly knowing that it was “wrong”, because he has no reason to feel this way with Carlos, but still he does and gives himself more trouble than necessary with it.

I have written a little story to it - I hope you will like how it turned out in the end 🤗

Thanks for the inspiration! ❤️

Irreplaceable

This was definitely the part of being a Scuderia Ferrari driver Carlos hated. It wasn’t like he had done it on purpose to break his promise once again, to postpone their date night again, to take another night shift at the factory or that his phone had died off at some point during the evening, before he could inform his boyfriend about anything of it.

It wasn’t like he could ask someone to borrow him their phone, so he could call Lando and break so his already tattered heart into a million pieces with telling him that they also won’t be able to spend this evening together like he had actually promised him this morning, because no one knew about them being a couple.

The Spaniard had tried to stay focus the whole time long at the factory, but thinking about his boyfriend, sitting there all alone in his house back in the UK and waiting for him to finally call him, after they hadn’t been able to talk properly to each other the other day and also not the day before, broke Carlos’ heart as well and he felt like he was the worst boyfriend ever.

He was so sorry about how things had turned out lately between them since he had moved to Italy. Carlos, actually they both, had been aware about that things won’t be easy for them and for their relationship, but still it had turned out to be even more challenging and harder than they had even dared to think about.

With Carlos, Lando had his first relationship with, not only with another man but also in general. So the Spaniard was aware about that the younger one never had it easy since they were together with everything being so new to him, also not in the beginning, when their relationship was still developing back then, but Lando had got used pretty quickly to always have him around, to always have him close whenever he needed him in a weak moment, but now this close and also kind of clingy relationship had turned into a long-distance one and even when it hadn’t already been easy for Lando before, Carlos couldn’t even imagine how difficult it had to be for him right now.

Lando needed him in so many ways and it just broke the Spaniard’s heart to know, that he won’t be able to pull him close tonight, show him how much he loved and adored him and how important he was for him as well. When his work for today will finally be done, he will have to come back home to an empty, quiet flat, while the young Brit probably cried his eyes out in desperation miles and miles away from here.

Carlos was everything Lando had in that regard, because no one had a clue about them being a couple. He couldn’t talk with anyone else about it or how he felt. Why he was so insecure, thoughtful, even anxious all the time. Why he always felt so lonely.

By the time Carlos was finally able to plug his phone into the charger at home, he was breathless from running all the way from his car up to his flat, taking three stairs at once and making himself the biggest guilty conscience ever.

The few minutes he had to wait, till he was able to turn on his phone again, he wandered all nervously and worrying up and down his place, before he decided to use the time and take a quick shower. Also because he would have probably become insane if he had kept on like that.

When he was finally able to turn on his phone, it got instantly floated with plenty of missed calls and even more unread messages. All together he counted eight missed calls, all from his boyfriend and twelve unread messages, where especially three gave him chills

“Why you don’t text me back?”

Carlos knew that Lando was afraid about that he will forget about him once he will be in Italy. About that he will start to find him annoying with all those messages he will write him, with all these calls every evening, with all the attention he will need, even more now that Carlos will be gone. That he will become that frustrated about having such a clingy boyfriend that he will simply stop to text him back at one point.

“Why you take so long?”

Lando was worried about that Ferrari will become more important for his boyfriend than he, even when Carlos had already promised him so often that he will always stay the centre of his life, no matter what. Yes, this chance here with Ferrari was important for him as well, but he would never leave the younger one behind only to follow just one dream of him any more. Because Lando was his dream as well and he just couldn’t imagine a life where he couldn’t have both.

“Are you with someone else?”

That last message of his boyfriend made Carlos feel like he was the worst person ever, because he exactly knew that this right here was Lando’s biggest fear. He had always been afraid about, and sadly he also still was, to not be enough for him. The younger one was concerned about that his boyfriend could meet someone in Italy, someone so much prettier and better than him, that will show Carlos how blind he had been all the time to be together with someone like him.

And even when the Spaniard had told his boyfriend already so many, many times, that he really didn’t have to worry about that at all, because for Carlos he was the most beautiful, funniest, cutest, most adorable and loveable human on this planet, he could still see deep inside Lando’s eyes his fear about that Carlos could replace him so easily if he only wanted.

But for the Spaniard, Lando was perfect, everything he had never even dared to dream about and even more. Carlos felt so blessed and also proud about calling him his boyfriend, but Lando always thought so low of himself, his look-like, his being, his behaviour and also about his experiences and Carlos just hated it whenever he did so, because if Lando would see himself through his eyes, he would see how strong he actually was.

So much stronger than he was even aware about with his still so young age. How beautiful he was, in- and outside. How brave he actually was all the time and how proud he made Carlos with it, because he really knew that this all here wasn’t easy for him, but still Lando had not only agreed to first find out about what those feelings they had for each other really meant, but he had also supported Carlos in his decision to leave the team, when their relationship and everything that came with it was still pretty new and they both hadn’t known in which direction it was going.

Lando also had understanding with that the Spaniard will spend a lot of time with his new team at the factory in Italy at the beginning and also through the whole year. He had never complained about it, because he knew how important this was for the older one, but he had at least thought that the evenings will belong to them, that Carlos will be all his during the nights, but now everything had turned out different and it felt like the two of them weren’t even on the same planet any more.

With lightly shaking hands, because he was afraid about in which state his boyfriend will be, Carlos called his number and waited all impatiently for him to finally answer it. But he didn’t, not by his first try and also not by his fifth.

But the Spaniard was aware about that after an evening like this, Lando wasn’t able to find any rest. He was probably still crying his eyes out, while thinking about the worst possible scenarios.

Already all worriedly, Carlos tipped quickly a message into his phone, because he was concerned about that the younger one was maybe already close to a panic attack or maybe even worse. He wrote Lando to please answer his calls, because he just knew that he was still up and he needed to talk to him.

The Spaniard waited some endless moments, but his boyfriend didn’t try to call him and he also didn’t text him back. Carlos quickly checked the just-in-case, saved phone number of Adam Norris on his phone, because if he won’t be able to reach Lando in the next few minutes, he will have to call his boyfriend’s father, even when it would mean that they will find out so about their relationship with asking him to please look after his son, because he was so worried about him.

Carlos sure as hell won’t find any peace tonight if he won’t be able to reach Lando soon and make sure he was alright. But luckily it didn’t have to come that far, when after his unsuccessful FaceTime calls, the Spaniard tried to just call the younger one this time and Carlos’ heart almost stopped to beat, when he got it that his boyfriend had really accepted his call.

“Lando?” But Carlos wasn’t even surprised, when the other end of the line stayed quiet. But he knew that the younger one was listening, just still too upset to say anything yet. So he finally went on with the softest and most compassionate voice he could manage at this time of the night and with all his worries.

“Oh, mi corazon. I’m so, so sorry. I know it’s a bad excuse, but my phone died, I have forgotten my charger at home and everything has taken longer at the factory than I have expected it to be once again. I’m so damn sorry. It really hasn’t been my intention to make you worry so much. I know you have probably waited all evening long for me to finally call you back and answer your messages, but I promise you, I haven’t forgotten about you, not one second. You were actually all I was thinking about the whole time long. I just wanted to get back home, call you, see your pretty face, talk to you, watch a movie with you together, listen to your voice, watch you falling asleep. And believe me, I wasn’t with someone else, mi amor. I would never cheat on you, you exactly know that. There is no one out there I could ever love the same way as I love you. I know how you are feeling at the moment, but there is actually no reason for you to feel that way, mi corazon. No one will ever be able to replace you in my life, because I actually need you as much as you need me.”

No words came from the other end, but still Carlos knew Lando had listened to his words, because all quietly he could hear him cry into the phone. “Don’t cry, mi corazon. It’s okay, I’m finally here and I promise to be there for you now and I will even stay awake the whole night with you together if you want me to. I’m so sorry my little, precious boy.”

Carlos had to swallow down his own tears and the tight knot inside his throat, because he had to stay strong for his boyfriend and make him feel better with any cost, because Carlos himself had been the reason why he was in this state right now.

“I know I’m horrible.” It suddenly still came from Lando. It was actually only a quiet, almost inaudible whimper, but Carlos still caught it with already being trained to how his boyfriend’s voice did sound, when he was crying and sad.

“No, you are really not, mi corazon. If someone of the two of us is horrible, then it’s definitely me with breaking my promise once again. Don’t say things like that about yourself, while I’m actually so damn proud about you. I know that this all isn’t easy for you, mi corazon, but you are doing so well so far. Not everyone would do this, to stay right by my side and support me, even when it means for us being far away from each other and making so things even more complicated than they already were. You are not horrible, mi corazon and definitely also not weak. I know it’s still difficult for us, but we will get there, I promise. And now please stop crying, mi corazon. Stop thinking those things about yourself or about things that won’t ever happen anyway, because I won’t ever leave you. You and I belong together, no matter how many miles are between us. And in less than two days you will finally have me back and I will be all yours for the next few days and I won’t let you go for just one moment.”

“I miss you.” It came from Lando, still tortured and tired, but already less teary. “I also miss you like hell, mi corazon. I would give everything right now to cuddle with you, but I will make up for it all again, you will see. No one will ever be able to take me away from you for long, mi corazon. I’m all yours. Te amo la luz de mi vida.“

It needed some more soft, soothing words from the Spaniard to finally calm down his boyfriend through the phone, which always took longer and was more difficult, because Lando usually needed much body contact, especially when he wasn’t feeling good and needed some comfort.

But like already so many times before, Carlos somehow made it and finally dried those tears on the younger one’s cheeks, stopped his running nose and finally even managed a smile on Lando’s from the many tears swollen lips.

They both knew that it won’t be the last time for Lando to cry his eyes out while being all alone, missing his boyfriend and thinking about the worst possible things to happen, but it will become easier with time.

Lando was still so young, insecure and also inexperienced when it came to their relationship and everything that came with it, but Carlos will be patient, because he just loved Lando too much to give him up or what they had so easily. Even when it meant to repeat those words over and over again, till he will finally believe him, that he won’t forget about him, that he won’t ever replace him, neither with Ferrari nor with someone else, because Lando was irreplaceable for Carlos.

They will fight for what they have built up, together they will learn and find a way to be happy together, even with such a distance between them.

But what mean just a few miles, when it comes to the love of your life?

[bunny-bts]

She's Everything

Pairing: Yoogni x Reader

Summary: You moved and started anew in Korea, where you were so lucky to meet your favorite KPop idols. You've been happier the past two years than ever and all because you chose to leave romantic love in your past but you're unaware of your friends' feelings.

Warnings: maybe cursing?

Author: Based on She's Everything by Brad Paisley because this picture does things to me. Noone can tell me they don't listen to country. Part 2?

Words: a lot, I was copy pasting it to a word counter and got tired. For the record, wrote this after work so....

"Night guys," Yoogni pats all of the guys on thier shoulders. It had been a long day and he just wanted to go home and pick some strings, relieve stress. He sighs and leaves, twirling his car keys on his finger as he walks out of the studio. The sun had set hours ago and the stars lit up the sky now, he stops to look up at it for a second before walking to his car and slipping in and noticing that he had gotten a message saying he needed to do a live video. He slid his phone up on his dash and leaned his head back on his chair and groans before sighing and driving home, well the hotel room. Quiet, it was quiet, he wished he was back in Korea with you as he tosses his phone on the couch and keys on the kitchen bar table and flicks the lights on. He kicks his shoes off by the door. He made his way over to the couch and sets the laptop up for a video. Reminding himself to put on a smile as he leans over and grabs his guitar. Immediately the video has comments flooding up, he waves and gestures his guitar and explains he had a long day and wants to play. Just like that, song suggestions fly in, he can't even keep up to read them all but he catches the one that he was hoping to see. Yours. "Play something country," he shakes his head and smiles. He can't out right say Y/N and acknowledge you but he finds the chord and starts playing and you know he saw your comment. He plays and his mind wanders, he just focuses on the music and memories of the past few years flood his mind

She's a yellow pair of running shoes

He doesn't realize he is about to laugh as he starts singing because of the memory. It was maybe six months ago when you and Jungkook, being the idiots you both were and the same age, decided that you wanted to race to see who would buy the other cake at lunch. You won, despite your legs not being as long they carried you just as fast. You wanted to do it barefoot but Jin and Namjoon wouldn't allow it, you insisted the shoes slowed you down. Truth was you just hated wearing shoes. You did start taking off barefoot but they said no because it was on pavement, much to your annoyance. Your shoes were yellow because they were a dirty pair of what used to be white knock off converses and they just got dingy with age. Come to think of it, you may have actually been faster without them, you had some powerful feet.

A holey pair of jeans

All of your damn pants had holes in them. All of them that fit you at least, you either bought them ripped or there was one pair you sandpapered a rip into and wore so much that the fashionable little rip turned to a giant gaping hole in the knees because the strings popped and faded away. God, your jeans aggravated him.

She looks great in cheap sunglasses

You were frugal. He remembers a trip to a mall one time with you and Jungkook, and Joon. Joon wanted to visit the sunglasses shop because he had broken yet another pair. As Namjoon tried some on and he leaned on the door waiting for you all because he just wanted to sleep that day. "Y/N, try these," Joon hands you a pair and he remembers watching. "Ray-Bans, ey~ she got them Ray Bans-," you tried them on, "I can dig it," you make your rapper face in the mirror until you see the price. "What the fuck? Oh hell no, you just gonna break them anyway. Come-on." Then you dragged the boys out by their hands and told Namjoon to drive to a gas station. You walked out wearing a pair of shades, your hair blowing in the breeze and sun shining down on you. Ofcourse he was looking at your cut off daisy dukes but his eyes in that moment trained in on the sight of your face and he was glad you and the guys weren't paying attention. You looked so damn good in them, and you looked like for a split second you felt like you looked good too. You walked over to them, "three dollars, you're welcome," you smirk giving them to RM who immediately broke them trying to put them on his face. "Okay, six dollars, I'll be back"

She looks great in anything

Despite what you thought, you did. His favorite thing for you to wear would be lingerie but he's never seen that, imagined it yes, but that's different. His favorite thing he has seen you wear is a good pair of jeans. Jeans when they don't have holes. They hug you nicely, paired with a navy blue v neck blouse you have and he is done for. It's all he can do to not say something to you. You did maybe three times a year max do this, but, wear lip gloss, that made his knees absolutely weak. He has known you for two years now and you've done that three times, once to church, once to go clubbing with them at a beach, and once just because but it had to be a somewhat special occasion for it to happen.

She's: "I want a piece of chocolate"

This was a recent memory, last month. Your cycle came while you happened to be staying over with them. He, Jimin and Hobi went to get you some things, upon Namjoon's request. He knew what to grab because he is a grown ass man but you texted him that you wanted specially that you wanted just a little bit of chocolate. You were adamant as always that there was a such thing as too much chocolate. He was going to just grab a candy bar but Hobi was for some reason hell bent that you needed strawberries. You did like strawberries but still? Jimin said that chocolate to dip them in would be perfect. You were pleased.

"Take me to a movie"

You would be perfectly happy if you went to work and on your days off went to see a movie, then came home and had dinner and just talked the night away on the porch or sat there silently. You knew what movies you wanted to see and the trailers gave you something to look forward to.

She's: "I can't find a thing to wear"

This. You will complain about not having anything to wear while trying on a million outfits. He and Jin don't hesitate to groan and complain, but really, he wished the door was open and he could see the little fashion show

Now and then she's moody

Moody wasn't really it, what he narrowed it down to be was that you were like him. You were nice, sweet, most times but now and again life becomes too much and you bottle things up so it explodes like when you shake a bottle of soda and open it

She's a Saturn with a sunroof

That was true, you weren't fancy. He smiles to himself, thinking about you trying to drive a family vehicle like that and he laughs as he sings. He imagines you screaming at Jin and Jungkook in the back and threatening them that they can't have fries if they don't be quiet and pictures himself sitting front passengers seat next to you and just watching you. This hasn't happened, but he can imagine it.

With her brown her a blowing

He loves watching your long brown hair blow in the breeze. If it's a gentle breeze it looks like in the movies and music videos; like princess Pocahontas. However, when it's strong wind it's one of the funniest things in the world to him. It's slapping your face, going in your mouth, getting hella tangled which would hurt later but it pissing you off was funny. He would always be there to help you brush it and wipe your tears later

She's a soft place to land and a good feeling knowing

He may not realize it but all the girls watching are cooing at the warm face he has as his eyes close. He wished you were here and he could lay his head on your lap now, feel you stroking his hair and drift to sleep there but it was a good feeling knowing you were watching this live he had long forgotten about

She's a warm conversation

That I wouldn't miss for nothing

She's a fighter when she's mad, and a lover when she's loving

When you got mad, it ranged from cute to damn with hot somewhere in the middle, damn being scary. Youre so small but just damn. As far as loving, you wouldn't let yourself do that romantically but he sees how you are with him and the guys.

And she's everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

I talk about her

I go on and on, and on

'Cause she's everything to me

She's a Saturday out on the town and a church girl on Sunday

Cross around her neck

Seven, no, eight months ago. Back in the summer, blinding light came into the room waking him up. He shielded his eyes and sits up. "Wake up Suga," he heard your voice, filled with something, a emotion he couldn't place. "Wha-," he was hungover, "what? W-Why are you awake? We slept for," he looked at the clock, "two hours? When did we get back?" You shrug. It was then he realized you were wearing a pale-ish clam pink silk dress with spaghetti straps on your shoulders, no bra, paired with wedge high heel sandals. He let his eyes scan you apply your lipgloss, the one that's the same kind JK uses, the uh, Rosy lips Vaseline. You leaned over the vanity mirror of the hotel room to see what you were doing and he remembers taking in the sight. Contrary to the jeans you wore the night before with the black t-shirt. "What's going on?" "I need to start going back to church"

"mmk, have fun," he laid back down, just feeling hungover as fuck. How are you not? He looks over his shoulder at you downing two Excedrins dry before coming over and sitting on the side of the bed. You put a hand on his bare shoulder, "Please," he couldn't look at you, in this, look in those eyes and say no. "Mmk"

And a curse word cause it's Monday

Fuck was your favorite word, there was no doubt. You love how versatile it was. It could be a verb, an adjective, a noun, you even somehow managed to make it a proper noun. He heard you say it shamelessly every way possible, except one

She's a bubble bath and candles

Candles gave you migraines, the scents were overwhelming, but you kept unscented ones on hand. If you've had a day anything like his today you'd light some for aesthetic purposes and sink yourself into a nice hot bath and most likely forget your bubbles in another room only to call him or one of the guys to get it for you and giggle happily upon being able to use it. After ofcourse smelling it and humming contently

Baby come and kiss me

You had only said this to them all in a playful platonic way, to kiss thier head or cheek. There was one time when you were all drinking around a fire at the lake house when you did say it and kiss Jin on the lips. It was a peck, you were all drunk, but he can't help the frown appearing on his face

She's a one glass of wine and she's feeling kinda tipsy

"No! Stob it Y/N!" The smile returns remembering this night. You decided to have a glass of wine and unwind. Your logic was that the bottle itself was made of glass to justify your actions

She's the giver I wish I could be

Stealer of the covers

Every time you sleep over, the guys agree on one thing. No matter who you sleep with, you are a blanket hog. You don't do it on purpose. It's just that you start sleeping in fetal position and without realizing it go into a deep sleep and somehow maneuver into some sort of rogue pelican formation. Not to mention you're always cold

His wallet falls out of his pocket onto the floor as he's getting into it, he comes back to reality and stops playing for a second as he reaches down for it and stops. He stops and smiles at the flap that's open with a picture in it. A selfie you took of you and him randomly one day because you caught him smiling and wanted evidence. You wanted proof and since you never had a open mouthed smile like in this one he wanted it to so he had it made into a photo card. He remembers and gets back to singing, noticing the comments demanding it.

She's a picture in my wallet

Of my unborn children's mother

He doesn't even realize that he stops this time for quite a long moment at the memory that comes with this line. Or that he is crying much less.

It was one day when you saw a pregnant girl and everyone was swooning over her and her son who was with her. Her son wanted to play with the guys to which they all happily went along. You walked away and he followed noticing something was up.

"Y/N...."

"Oh hey," you smiled up at him, weakest one possible.

"Something wrong?" He sat at the picnic table across from you.

"It's silly..."

"Tell me anyway?"

"I've known I've wanted to be a mom since I was 16. One day I was riding home on the bus and I just decided, someday that's what I wanted. I never wanted a huge family, I just wanted one or two. Not then, obviously, I just knew someday. I moved here after a long term relationship ended, y'know that....I wanted one with him, I cried, I can't even remember how many times I cried and practically begged, but there was always some reason we couldn't he'd come up with.....so," you shrugged, "it's silly, it doesn't matter anyway. Never going to happen.....girls like me don't get that," You got up and left him there and walked back to the car

He now realizes his face is wet and reaches up to wipe the tears that went down his face

She's the hand that I'm holding

When I'm on my knees and praying

The memory of the morning of the hangover returns again. He could tell you were nervous, eyes were on you. He knew it because you were so beautiful but you probably didn't. When the church cleared and it was just the two of you you dropped to your knees but stood back up just as quickly.

"Hey, Y/N, you can pray if you want..."

You shook your head, "I've messed up a lot, I'm scared...."

Nothing scared you. He took your hand and got on his knees too. "I'll do it too"

The two of you prayed in silence, holding hands. He finished before you did and just stared at your interlocked hands, rubbing his thumb over your ring finger

She's the answer to my prayer

She's the song that I'm playing

And she's everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

I talk about her

I go on and on, and on

'Cause she's everything to me

She's that voice I 'd love to hear

Someday when I'm ninety

Every day that passes

I only love her more

Yeah, she's the one

That I'd lay down my own life for

And she's everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

She's everything to me

Yeah, she's everything to me

Everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

She's everything to me

Sitting the guitar down he smiles at the camera, says goodnight and blows a kiss. With a little heart fingers he says goodnight and signs off and gets ready for bed

[peter-pan-on-neverland]

Secretly soft: Part 2

Request: Felix being his stubborn self around everyone, including the reader but goes all soft when they’re alone.

Pairing: Felix x reader 

Warnings: none

,< Part 1

He couldn’t believe this was happening again, did he not learn from the last time? Pan’s voice echoed around in his mind over and over again as if the words were bouncing around his skull, ricocheting until Felix’s head hurt.

Love make’s you weak. Love make’s you weak. Love make’s you weak.

Those fearsome green eyes stared at him even though the blonde boys eye lids were close, he could still feel his friends cold gaze on him even as lay in the comfort of his bed. For days the giant had been cold and distant, from everyone not just Y/n, the lost boy was away with the fairies half of the time trying not to think about the situation he was once again placed in. He struggled to find any motivation to do anything, Felix who was once an early raiser stumbled out of his tent around mid day only to be met with a disappointing glear from the leader.

“Felix,” The boys heart dropped as he heard his name being called from across the camp, words delivered in a familiar British accent, “Get over here, we need to talk.”

Whispers spread through the camp like a wild fire as curiosity overflowed from the rowdy group of lost boys, each one desprate to know what was happening. Felix could only try and ignore then as he slowly trekked over, back hunched and aching.

“What’s going on?” Pan asked in a stern voice making Felix flinch as soon as the words reached his ears.

With a deep sigh the boy finally mustered up enough courage to speak, “Nothing Pan, I’m fine.” Felix may not be the brightest tool in the shed but that didn’t mean he was stupid, he knew if he started to slip up Pan would punish him by punishing Y/n.

The leaders jaw locked in place, trying his hardest not to let his frustration get the better of him. He knew exactly what the problem was, and how to fix it.

How hard could it be? The king of Neverland thought to himself with a dark grin plastered on his face.

“I’ve given you your chance Felix and now,” He spoke, getting so close to the blonde giant he could feel Pan’s breath slowly travel along the nape of his neck “now you need to be punished.”

The second in command eyes spread no the size of sources and panic flowed through his veins, “No.” He whispered, barely audible but the green eyes monster heard his faint cries.

“What example would I be setting for the boys if I didn’t Felix?” The king argued, “now listen very carefully, I want you to grab that little distraction by the arm and throw her into the cage’s.”

Felix knew that Pan could be a narcasistic prick at times, but he never expected the boy to go this far, never in a million years.

The blonde giant had no idea how to process the emotions he was feeling, they just kept getting stronger and stronger, bubbling over the surface until he overflowed with emotion. At this moment the second in command had no shame, he didn’t care who saw him as tears streamed down his sharp cheeks, the lost boy had never been this vunrible in front of any one before yet somehow Pan made him feel safe.

Felix almost laughed at the irony, how can the person who’s making him feel misrble be the only person he feels safe enough to cry around, to show his true colours around.

“Pan-” The lost boy tried to speak up but his words only came out as a shaky rasp.

“You know what you need to do.” Where the leaders parting words before he made his way back to camp.

The brown haired boy let out a sigh of relief as he walked away, he hated seeing Felix like this, but he knew if that girl broke his heart then he would be much more broken. Maybe his punishment was a little harder than he had originally planned for it to be, but what was he to do? How else would he be able to help Felix, he needed to get rid of the problem and he needed to do it himself.

…

Felix gut twisted inside of him, every cell in his body was screaming out no. He couldn’t do this to her, not when he had finally realized how he felt, but the second in command knew that if he didn’t do it Pan would and who knows how rough he would be?

There she was, sat silent and alone on a log. Felix remembered the mornings when he would join her, laughing as they told each other the funniest stories while he playfully put his arm around her. Oh how he wished he knew sooner, he would’ve cherished those moments even more if he only knew where his heart ley.

There was that sinking feeling again, like his heart had suddenly turned to stone in an instant, weighing him down as if his own body was stopping him from taking another step. He wanted to just grab her and run off into the sunset but the giant knew there was no way off this island, not without Pan’s permission.

He needed to be smart about this and try to cause as little pain as possible. Ignoring the fact that his feet felt like they were made of led he slowly made his way over to her, one step at a time, catching the lost girls eye.

A smile beamed on her face as she saw he was coming over, eyes beaming and face glowing with happiness, but she was not met with the same expression.

“Felix-!” She happily exclaimed.

“You need to come with me,” He muttered, voice deep and moody.

Y/n’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “Where are we going?”

He shut his eyes, wanting this process to be quick and easy, “Please don’t make me ask again,” he pleaded with her, “Just follow me.”

“Not until you tell me where we’re going.” She tested.

Felix knew he had no other choice but to take her by force, as much as he didn’t want too he knew it would be the only way of ensuring her safety.

Swiftly wrapping his long fingers around her forearm he yanked her up, dragging her away too little to no effort, she was as light as a feather. Oh how Felix wish he could just scoop her up in his arms right now, instead of forcing her into one of those cold, damp cages.

“Felix, what are you doing!” She exclaimed, trying to claw at his knuckles, desperately trying to get the blonde giant off her, “You’re hurting me!”

As soon as those words fell from her lips the second in command instantly let go as thought it were second nature to him. The boy had no problem when it came to a little bit of pain, but she made him weak, love made him weak.

Y/n’s demands never stopped the whole way through the jungle, he fought everything he had in him to not answer back. Why hadn’t he noticed how special she was to him sooner? Why was Pan making him do this? What was the point?

So many questions swirled around in his mind he didn’t even notice the tears streaming down the lost girls face as she, now silently, followed him.

His hand twitched in response, ready to reach out and brush every drop away with the pad of his thumb, but he couldn’t. He kept his eyes glued to the floor and his head down, he needed to remember that if he wanted her to be safe, he was going to have to put her in the cage.

The lost girl felt ace in her chest as the wooden door swung closed in front of her, there eyes met for what seemed like it would be the last time. She couldn’t stop the stream of tears from pouring down her cheeks, she didn’t understand what was going on. Had she angered him that much he would want to stick her in the cages?

Hesitantly, he began to walk away, slowly as if he wanted the moment to last a little longer. Felix’s knows this isn’t the romantic event he had hopped for, but still, he was just happy to be with her and never wanted to leave her side.

“Felix, wait.” She croaked out, voice raw from all the screaming and crying she had done prier.

The second in command came to a halt as if he order were from Pan himself, no words left his lips, but she knew she had grasped his attention.

Shuffling forward as best she could, Y/n wrapped her around around the bars of her wooden prison, “Why am I in here.”

He longed to tell her the truth, longed to tell her how she had done nothing wrong and that he loved her, If it were up to the boy that cage door would be broke off it’s hinges and she would be safe in his arms. Safe from Pan, safe from the boys, safe from everything that hurt her. But he couldn’t, he could only walk away, leaving her heartbroken and disappointed.

Day quickly turned into night, the stars shining bright against their navy back drop as Y/n tried to come to terms with what was happening.

Was this all just a dream, she thought to herself. One minute her and Felix were fine, happy, laughing and giggling with each other and now, she was locked in this cage.

Goosebumps bloomed up and down her arms as she looked around, nothing but darkness, except for something lurking in the shadows. Her heartbeat quickened, what was that? Why wasn’t it moving? Was it just her eyes play tricks on her?

As if on queue the bushes begin to shake, she scattered to the far side of her cage, trying to get away from it as quickly as possible, she was not about to become bear food.

She relaxed the second she saw it was only Pan, those sinister green eyes gave her a sense of comfort from time to time.

“Oh Pan, it’s just you.” She sniffled, looking up at the boy.

The king of Neverland bent down to her level, pureeing at the little lost girl through the gaps in the cage door, “You’re probably wondering why I’ve ordered Felix to put you in this prison, It’s because you’re making him weak and weak people have no place on my island.” The green eyes monster spat.

The lost girl had never felt so much anger in her life, her blood began to boil the moment those words tumbled from his lip and oh how he loved to watch her squirm. He mocked her, replying with nothing but a smirk.

“It’s not hard to tell that my second in command has fallen for you, and that my dear, is a very dangerous game to play. Love is weakness, love is a sweet spot and my boys don’t have sweet spots.” He declarerd  proudly as he promoted his group of highly weaponized teenagers, “Now if anyone else on this island were to be in love with you, I would kill them on the stop. Felix however, happens to be very special to me, very special indeed. Which is why I must keep you locked away.”

Y/n was at a loss for words, she just couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wanted so badly to argue back, prove to him that love wasn’t weakness, it was strength but the little lost girl knew she would be wasting her breath. Pan wouldn’t listen to anyone else, no one but Felix.

Pan wasn’t here for hostilities, he wanted to make his point and leave, but she pulled the green eyed monster right back, “If I’m such a pain to you then why don’t you just send me home?”

“Oh, that wouldn’t be any fun now would it?” The leader chuckled darkly to himself, “I’m saving you for a rainy day.”

Before the girls very eyes he had disappeared into a cloud of green smoke, rendering her speechless,. What would she do? What could she do in this situation? Make a run for it, try and escape.

She shot down her own ideas once she remembered that no one left the island without Pan’s permission and he just made it very clear, he did not want her to leave.

…

Heavy footsteps are what rose the lost girl from her slumber as she rubber her tired eyes, the sun beamed down, almost blinding her as she looked up.

Jaw almost dropping once she saw the sharp features of a familiar face staring back at her holding a tray of food. She had thought long and hard last night about what she would say to Felix if she ever saw him again, but she didn’t accept to see the second in command so soon.

He smiled to himself, once again she was away with the fairies, paying not attention to what was going on around her.

No, the words echoed around the lost boys head so loud, you’re here to give her food and leave nothing more.

Heartbroken, the boy placed to plate of food just in front of her cage, he fought the urge to say something to her, say anything to her, but no words came out. Where would he even start?

“I know why I’m here.” She finally spoke up, the words made Felix stop in his track, slowly turning back around to face her in shock and disbelief.

“What?” He whispered to himself, still trying to process the words that had just fell from her lips.

“I know why I’m in this cage, it’s because Pan thinks I’m making you weak. But love isn’t weakness Felix, it’s strength and power.”

“You, you know I love you?” Felix said almost as if he didn’t want it to be true.

“Yes,” She beamed a smile spreading wide across her cheeks, “And I love you too.”

The second in command couldn’t hold himself back any longer after hearing those words, running to the cage, he flung the cage door open. Their hand intertwined as he desperately pulled her out of the cage and wrapped her up in his arm.

“I’m so sorry Pan put you in here, lets run away together, lets go somewhere, anywhere.” The boy rambled on and on making plans for the two of them to escape.

“You know we can’t do that Felix, not without Pan’s permission.” She shot him down.

The look of disappointment on the boys face was evident, she wanted more than anything to run away with him but they both knew it wouldn’t be possible for them to do.

“What should we do?” Felix asked, racking his brain for anything, just anything that would get him and Y/n off this island.

“Put me back in the cage.” The little lost girl insisted, almost as if she were stamping her foot down.

“What are you talking about-”

“Put me back in the cage, it’ll by us more time if Pan doesn’t suspect anything is wrong.” She explained, the second in command didn’t want to admit it, but he knew she was right.

“Fine.” He harshly spoke, “But I don’t like it.”

They both knew they didn’t have much time left before Pan would know something was up, as if there was a silent agreement between the two the girl nodded in his direction, voluntarily getting back into her wooden cage.

“I love you,” The blonde giant whispered, peering at the through the bars with a smile on his face.

“I love you too.” She said, watching as he trekked further and further into Neverland’s deep jungle, all the way back to camp.

The pair were flying as high as a kite, for once everything seemed to be on track, going there way, but all that faded as soon as she heard a familiar British accent.

“Well, well, well, that was quite the show.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 is up! I hope you guys like it just as much as you liked the last part! Xxx

[luca-moreno]

Follows X

He wakes in the dark, the slow blink of a message notification on his terminal the only light in his room. For the space of a heartbeat, he absorbs the subtle hum of the drive core through the ship and it’s peaceful, but then memories of the attack comes roaring back and Luca gasps. He jerks up sharply and as he does, the lighting in his quarters gently power up to a dull gloom.

He’s alone, and for a moment he’s grateful there’s no one there to see the way his eyes suddenly water and his breath feels tight in his chest. His head still feels fuzzy from the mild sedative Kate had slipped him when he had been too anxious and worked up to settle and he only seems to have hearing in one ear but his stomach rolls with hunger even though eating is the last thing he feels like doing.

How long has he been asleep? Maybe it just a really horrible, vivid nightmare, but he looks at his bandaged wrist and takes in the little origami crane on his pillow and knows it wasn’t.

He goes to his terminal first, unsure what to feel when he sees the messages waiting for him. Most of them are from his squad, oddly polite in ways that tell him the Commander has already briefed them on what happened. He can’t help but wonder if this is going to make things weird. Are they going to treat him any differently? He fought back, didn’t he? He wasn’t completely weak.

But it’s the message from Eva that has him stepping out of his room and shuffling down the empty hallway before a discomforting wave rolls over him – the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and once again his throat feels tight.

Is this what it’s going to be like from now on? Always wondering if the next hallway he walks down is going to be the last thing he does before he’s hauled off to an airlock - and that’s only if he’s lucky? Isaac and Marie had promised him Yamamotto would be dealt with, that he was locked away where he couldn’t hurt anyone else… but Luca knows he has friends on the ship. Friends who probably knew the whole sordid story and wouldn’t have any sympathy for Luca. He might even still be a target if they decide they’re angry enough to finish what Yamamotto started.

That thought alone makes Luca halt and turn around, only to come face to face with a pair of now familiar green eyes. Luca flails but instead of jumping back, he reaches out and curls his hands into Ben’s shirt and hauls him close. Luca presses his face into the warm space under Ben’s jaw and wheezes slightly in his relief.

“Khalahira. Ben. Gods. I really need to put a bell on you. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Ben looks distressed by that when Luca draws back far enough to see his face.

“Sorry. Went to check Rupert, feed Cerby.” Ben shrugs apologetically. “You were sleeping.”

“I just woke up.”  

The rapid thump of Luca’s heart makes him feel a little ill and it takes far too long to realize he’s still clinging to the vanguard’s shirt. He has to make a concerted effort to unhook his fingers from the material and force himself to step back.

Ben watches him carefully for a beat, with that assessing phoenix stillness Luca was growing used to, then holds up a pudding cup and a handful of protein bars.

“Brought food. Come on.” He takes Luca’s hand and leads him back to his quarters without giving him a chance to protest. “Not alone.”

“I was going to see Eva,” Luca tells him, sinking onto the bed once they’re back inside. The fog in his head is starting to clear and every part of him still aches. Ben hands him the pudding but Luca isn’t sure if he has it in him to eat it. He must stare at it for too long when Ben gives a little sigh and hands him his datapad instead. “Eva find you here.”

Luca thinks of the empty hallways and shivers. “Okay.”

--

He feels her before she arrives but knowing that she was about to step through the door doesn’t make it any easier.

“Luc,” and then she’s wrapping her arms around him as he shudders into her chest. Her soft hair tickles his cheek and she smells like ozone overlaid with something sweet. She seems to be sparking in a way that makes him wonder if she’s been training, or… something else.

“Eva. You… the box… it helped me- I couldn’t-“

She draws back, hands cupping his face. He can barely see her through his damp eyes but he tries for a watery smile anyway because he knows that’s what she would want. “I’m proud of you- “

“No,” he protests roughly and tries to shake his head but she holds him firm between her palms. His eyes water again. He’s been carrying this around for a long time, like it was some private burden to torture himself with because he couldn’t possibly deserve any of the good things that have appeared in his life.

“We’ll get through this, Luc. I promise. And you don’t have to worry. He’s going to be dealt with.”

Luca nods miserably and Eva tucks him in against her side. The silence stretches between them, but it’s not uncomfortable. Luca takes comfort in her presence, listens to the sound of her breathing and subtly matches his own to her calming breaths.

“Good,” she murmurs. “You’re getting good at that.”

He smiles for the first time since Yamamotto shoves his face into the bulkhead.

“Thoughtfully: Do you really have new Citadel’s Funniest Elcor Videos to watch?”

Eva grins. “Sincerely: You bet I do.”  

Then she leans over and whispers, “maybe you can ask Ben if he wants to watch them too?”

[dameronology]

the one where he leaves {obi-wan x reader}

summary: ‘won’t ask you to stay, but let me ask you one thing/when did you fall out of love?’ {out of love, alessia cara} + obi-wan kenobi 

i love this song so much like genuinely it’s beautiful and so sad. requests are open at the moment and the song prompt list can be found here 

enjoy,

- val x 

It was bittersweet.

Or, maybe you were telling yourself that to make it hurt less.

There was an ache in your chest and coming home to an empty bed every night was still an odd feeling. You tried to tell yourself that your break-up with Obi-Wan had been for the best but you couldn’t quite convince yourself. To say goodbye to the best man you knew - the kindest, funniest, sweetest man you knew - seemed ridiculous. What was it that he’d said about it?

It’s better to end the relationship when you still like each other than it is to wait till you hate each other.

Always the voice of reason was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

And now, here you were, a week to the day that you’d gone your separate way. You were putting all of the things he’d left in your room into a box; a strewn cloak, a book, a crystal on a chain that he’d brought back from one of his missions. This had been your safe space; the only place you could be properly together behind doors and away from the peeping eyes of the other Jedi.

There was a knock on your door, and you took a deep breath, preparing yourself to see him again. It was the first time that you were meeting each other as friends and not as lovers. You snorted slightly at the idea of being friends. You’d gone too far across the line to ever return to that.

You opened the door, coming face to face with Obi-Wan. He looked as good as ever; hair pushed back off his face, robes without a crease and a forced smile on his features. 

‘Hey.’ You gave him a breathy smile. ‘How are you doing?’

‘I’ve been well,’ He replied. ‘Yourself?’

Sad. Angry. Filled with regret. I saw a happy couple that looked like us sharing a meal yesterday and I wanted to shove their faces into their food.

‘I’ve been fine.’ 

You stepped aside so that Obi-Wan could in. The box of his things was resting on your bed, and he couldn’t help but notice that the room looked a bit bare. He also felt an odd feeling rise in his stomach when he realised things had come full circle - this had been the place that you’d first admitted your feelings for each other, and the same place that you’d decided it was over

There was a tense silence hanging between you. It was a quiet filled with so many unspoken words that it may as well have been deafening. You could hardly arrange your thoughts within his presence. 

You couldn’t pin point where things had gone wrong. It felt as though things had been perfect one minute and falling apart the next. You went from spending every morning together to never seeing each other. Sweet conversations turned into heated arguments. The thrill of running around behind the Council’s back quickly turned from excitement to burden.

‘I’m sorry.’ They were the only words you could fathom.

‘For what?’ Obi-Wan furrowed his brow at you.

‘I don’t know, actually.’ You tried to hide the red in your cheeks. ‘That things didn’t work out, I guess.’

‘Me too, my love’ He replied, before quickly realising his slip. ‘Sorry, force of habit-’

‘- hey, don’t worry about it.’ You were fast to cut him off. The more he spoke about it, the more it hurt.

Despite the pain you felt now, you wouldn’t have changed a thing for the world. Even if things felt a bit skewered now, you had a few years worth of happy memories to counter it. 

‘You should keep this.’ Obi-Wan rifled through the box, handing you the crystal. It was a rose gold colour, attached to a silver chain. You’d worn it around your neck from the day he’d given it to you, until the day you’d broken up.

‘Are you sure? I kind of stole it from you.’ You said.

He bit his lip for a moment, undoing the clasp of the necklace as he walked over to you. He stood behind you, placing it around your neck and fastening it there. You could feel his breath on your neck, the warmth of his all-too-familiar body radiating on yours. You were silently thanking whatever god there was that self-control had been part of your Jedi training; without it, you probably would have turned around and crashed your lips onto his.

‘Thank you,’ You turned around to face him.

It felt like the natural thing to do was to kiss him. That’s what you’d usually do - when you were a couple. But, that was no more. Now, you were two individuals, separate from each other but forever intertwined by all the highs and lows you’d experienced together.

Obi-Wan reached his hands up, gently brushing his fingers down your face . He ran his thumb over your cheekbones, softly grazing it across your lip. Then, as though he remembered that you and him were simply a relic of the past, he took a step back, clearing his throat.

‘I should go.’ He murmured. He turned around, picking up the box. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘Yeah,’ your voice was weak, barely a whisper. ‘See you around.’

You watched him as he made his way towards the door, quietly shutting it as he left. You could tears floating in your eyes - stinging, threatening to spill. There was still question you wanted the answer to, but equally one you could hardly bear to hear: when had he stopped loving you?

But, the truth was that no matter what happened or how much time passed, he would never truly fall out of love with you.

taglist: @betteddaviseyes​ @vawillamilkshake​ @gothamsbruce​ @kenobee​ @kaminobiwan​

[luluwquidprocrow]

and i’ve written pages upon pages trying to rid you from my bones

originally posted: august 25th, 2019

word count: 13,060 words

rated: not rated

beatrice/bertrand/lemony

heavy angst,  canon compliant,  with enough canon divergence that makes the canon compliance worse,  epistolary

summary:

and if you don’t love me, let me go.

[a much less than 200 pages break up letter.]

opening notes:

title from the engine driver by the decemberists

.

By the time you read this

I guess an at least interesting description of us could be like ships passing in the night

I think now is

I think now might be the time for us to

First of all, I have canceled my subscription to the Daily Punctilio, which was just a good move on my part to begin with, and second of all, I couldn’t believe all that anyway, but third of all, do you know, Lemony

You’ll think me such a damn hypocrite, won’t you.

Why now? Why would I

Why would you do this now?

My Heart and I

I.

ENOUGH ! we're tired, my heart and I.

We sit beside the headstone thus,

And wish that name were carved for us.

The moss reprints more tenderly

The hard types of the mason's knife,

As heaven's sweet life renews earth's life

With which we're tired, my heart and I.

II.

You see we're tired, my heart and I.

We dealt with books, we trusted men,

And in our own blood drenched the pen,

As if such colours could not fly.

We walked too straight for fortune's end,

We loved too true to keep a friend ;

At last we're tired, my heart and I.

III.

How tired we feel, my heart and I !

We seem of no use in the world ;

Our fancies hang grey and uncurled

About men's eyes indifferently ;

Our voice which thrilled you so, will let

You sleep; our tears are only wet :

What do we here, my heart and I ?

IV.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I !

It was not thus in that old time

When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime

To watch the sunset from the sky.

Dear love, you're looking tired,' he said;

I, smiling at him, shook my head :

'Tis now we're tired, my heart and I.

V.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I !

Though now none takes me on his arm

To fold me close and kiss me warm

Till each quick breath end in a sigh

Of happy languor. Now, alone,

We lean upon this graveyard stone,

Uncheered, unkissed, my heart and I.

VI.

Tired out we are, my heart and I.

Suppose the world brought diadems

To tempt us, crusted with loose gems

Of powers and pleasures ? Let it try.

We scarcely care to look at even

A pretty child, or God's blue heaven,

We feel so tired, my heart and I.

VII.

Yet who complains ? My heart and I ?

In this abundant earth no doubt

Is little room for things worn out :

Disdain them, break them, throw them by

And if before the days grew rough

We once were loved, used, — well enough,

I think, we've fared, my heart and I.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who knew what she was talking about

My Dearest Darling,

You call me a lot of things but, to be perfectly frank (not Ernest), Lemony, I think I’ve always liked that one the least. There was that summer where, among other things, Bertrand was trying to come up with nicknames for us in that charming way of his, and he came up with a real mess of awful nicknames and then I came up with the list we could Never Repeat In Public (capitals necessary) and then you said something very sweet to both of us, and anyway, we know what happened there, but the point of this is that you held us close and said, very seriously, that you would never ever ever ever ever (for the span of what I’d figure would be maybe two pages, short but evenly-spaced), no matter what happened, call Bertrand ‘Bert’ and that was damn good of you because Bertrand is not a Bert and never will be. We were right to veto Bertie, as well. He is a Bertrand, through and through. The other point was that you wound up calling us nicknames too but dearest darling was maybe the worst of all of them. Bea was my favorite. I liked the way you said it and I liked the way it sounded and I felt noble perfect unstoppable invincible worried fragile good when you said it. And that was good.

Speaking of, right now, Bertrand is with Kit, and don’t worry, they’re not talking about you (I know how you worry). They’re talking about boats and maps and cooking spices and Widdershins will probably come by later to give them both his version of A Stern Talking To (capitals debatable) about open water expeditions, which will probably be something like, ‘Fire this harpoon at anything suspicious! Aye! Shoot first and ask questions later! Aye!’ and it’s a real miracle that man doesn’t have a whole boatload of albatrosses hanging around somewhere. (Unless he does, and I just haven’t seen it.)

Bertrand and I—well, we’ve kept the house up. Even though he has that thing for natural light, you know what I mean. But we’ve managed to decorate it nicely. I got the Gothic Furniture (capitals required), he got his large windows, there is a last unopened root beer bottle in the fridge because every time we look at it both of us think about how you said it’s impolite to take the last one, and I thought, maybe I’d save it for when you came back but I don’t

The last thing I want is to

Bertrand and I, we’re going out to dinner tonight, because we’re still not all that comfortable with the kitchen yet. I mean, why did we get such a fancy kitchen? I’m sure one of these days I’ll come around to it and it’ll be fine but right now it’s, it seems a hassle, I guess. So we’re going out and I’ve already decided that I’m going to order this truly egregious amount of pasta and no one will stop me!

We don’t really have any plans for tomorrow. As it stands right now. We’ve both been sort of taking things as they come lately. Bertrand, Bertrand’s been very busy. Both of us have been busy, but I think he’s been trying to keep his mind occupied. A lot of us have. Even Hector looks more concerned than he usually does. I saw him the other day—not here, in town—and I didn’t think it was possible for Hector to look that harried. So much has been happening lately, I feel like even I haven’t had time to catch my breath, even in this part of the city. It’s like everything’s been going a mile a minute, taking me with it, and the moments where it stops, the moments where I have the time to think, are unbearably, agonizingly slow. But most of my life has been like that, you know.

And I know, I know you are too. Busy. And concerned.

I know.

When you

Did you

The last performance of our play was three days ago. Since the Daily Punctilio doesn’t have a theater section anymore, Bertrand and I haven’t been reading any rave reviews but we were rereading but, what can you do. Geraldine’s moved on to some other column now too, something about, I don’t even know, tax evasion? Shoes? I can never understand a single thing she writes. Even that ‘Secret Organizations You Should Know About’ thing didn’t even pan out, can you believe that? All she did was write about Esmé! All that trouble for

It looks like it’ll be the last play for a while. I know they wanted us to go on longer, but, well, that’s how it has to be. Don’t know what I’m going to do with myself without a script to lug around, but I’ll probably memorize something for kicks. Gilda Farrell’s lines, maybe, that’d be fun.

But it’d be better if you

This is really the first time I’ve had one of those unbearably slow moments in a while, and of course the first thing I think of is you. You and Bertrand have always filled those gaps for me, but now it’s different. It’s just

I saw Jacques the other day and he

Ramona’s the only one who hasn’t been so

I want to see you so much, Lemony. With everything I have, I want you with me, and I keep hoping that if I close my eyes, when I open them again, there you’ll be, alive and well and next to me and real. Or I’ll walk away from my desk and this letter and when I look back it’ll all have been a bad dream, the worst nightmare I keep stopping and hoping and when you’re not there and I’m still here I

I don’t know how to do this. I can’t

I didn’t want to do it like this.

I don’t want you to I’m, burying the lede, or doing any of this on purpose or anything, because by now you’ve definitely noticed how long this is (although, personally, I’m only at the beginning, but I have a feeling this is going to get long—I know I’ve said I could run laps around the city in the time it takes you to finish a single metaphor but between the two of us we both know I could go on for much longer and will), and you have a vague idea, or a concrete idea, or an idea you don’t want to think about, of where I’m going to go with this. If it was something simple it wouldn’t be like this. If I was just, telling you the news, I wouldn’t need so much time, and I need so much of it. I’m setting the stage trying to making sure I wanted to I can’t just

I am a weak woman, Lemony Snicket. And that is a complete lie, you and I know, but I am a weak woman and I don’t want to be but my hands are shaking.

You and I. You and I know so many things.

So why should we

We both know how to make Ramona laugh, and the right amount of sugar for Olivia’s tea, and where Jacques will be on Tuesdays even though he pretends he doesn’t keep a regular schedule, and where Monty has his keys stashed in his garden, and everything possible about Bertrand, including what book he’s reading right now even though you haven’t been home in two months (it’s still that cat book because he says he wants to see the look on your face when he reads it out loud after dinner) (it’s still that cat book), and what kind of records Kit wants for her birthday even though she never has the time to play them, and even what Esmé is going to eat tomorrow because would you believe that herring is still in, to her continued consternation. She can talk all she wants about how good herring is but I still see that look on her face when she eats it! Every meal, Lemony! I’m giggling as we speak and I wish you could see her because it is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen in my LIFE

Maybe those things are superficial, but they’re things we know about people, about ourselves, and that counts, doesn’t it? And—and I know what you look like when you wake up and I know what you look like when you’re fixing your typewriter and I have to help and I know what you look like when you think I’m not looking at you, and there was a time where that meant you didn’t look like everyone you knew had just died. You know what I look like at my worst, the worst I ever let you see. You knew it anyway. You It was enough.

And Bertrand. I know I’ve said it before but, you and I were so lucky. Lots of good things came from of this, right? The three of us, you and me and Bertrand. Our apartment and that wallpaper we took down in Bertrand’s when he moved out of his, with those horrendous yellow stripes. The cat we pretended to have and the elaborate medical history we made for it so we’d all have an excuse to go home early. (That poor cat, though. I don’t think it would’ve been possible for it to really survive like that. We should be better to our imaginary pets next time in the future.) Watching Bertrand dance to my records, which was terrible because we hadn’t taught him to dance yet. Trying out those new recipes. Keeping the windows open in the summer. The diner down the street, the ice cream shop on the corner, that night it rained and we all stayed outside and got soaking wet because why not? Bertrand making that excessive amount of soup the next day. You telling us we were the only things that mattered. Bertrand would push your hair out of your face when you were sleeping and I wanted to watch that for the rest of my life. I wanted it to be the last thing I ever saw.

Those moments, every moment. Reading in the dark, losing my glasses, you stopped dead the first time we were out with Bertrand and he was under a streetlamp and you both looked so beautiful and you kissed him for the first time and you didn’t even remember to be nervous.

And those million citations Jacques didn’t give us for public indecency during that spring he was disguised as a police officer. (He was definitely kidding when he brought it up. There was no way he could’ve seen us.)

It makes me so happy, to think about all that. I love you and Bertrand so much. I

Oh Lemony. I don’t think I can do any of this.  

-------

In other better happier general news, Gustav let Bertrand and me see the pictures from the wedding, and then he archived them, because we agreed that was for the best, and Bertrand figured you’d probably say the same. I look absolutely stunning, and Bertrand looks incredibly handsome even though he finally admitted he agrees with you, that hat was not his style, and you, Lemony, in that white suit that matched Bertrand’s with those peach-colored flowers because peach is a better color than I ever gave it credit for and it looked so good in the spring because it was the color the wall in the living room turned when the afternoon sun hit, you look

It was such a beautiful day. Still spring, and right after Bertrand’s birthday. Us, Kit, Jacques, Ramona, Olivia, Dewey, Hector. Jerome was invited—or he was supposed to be, who knows what happened there. We barely saw Gustav the whole time too, since he kept climbing up into trees for better angles. The smallest place we could find that would hold all of us and be so out of the way. The cake Kit made, against everyone’s expectations. Ramona cried, because of course she did. All those flowers, no one could move the whole time for walking into at least six bees, but no one minded. So much love. It was palpable, and my whole body was alive with it, with such a soft warmth I could barely breathe. I don’t think I ever stopped smiling, not while dancing or singing or kicking my shoes off because such mortal trappings cannot contain me, or when you and Bertrand danced and you cried, or when a crow flew overhead and we all stopped, just for a single second, before every one of us decided not to care. For a few hours one glorious afternoon.

You look happier than I’ve ever seen you before and now I don’t know if I’ll ever see you like that again or forever and I’m sorry, I was right, I can’t do this, I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this

-------

I’ve taken a few deep breaths and I’m ready to

Oh who am I KIDDING

Lemony I love you so much and I need you so much my heart is going to break with it

justice does not need eyes to see,

but truth built himself eyes

in the porcelain patterns of his world

and let them do the talking

in the skies he

so kindly

let them see,

with the eyes he gave them,

one after another

after another

after another

i

i was something else

but i lived so close beside

that they could not accuse me

of being blind

but i could’ve seen everything

if i could see with every eye,

one after another

after another

after another,

every eye

a certainty,

every eye

the truth,

every eye

mine alone.

You told me when we were younger that I should give rhyming verse a try and, well, Lemony, not everything you said was good advice.

-------

I do, though. I love you a great deal. I think it confuses people. Besides the fact that some of them never understood our relationship with Bertrand (cowards), I get the impression some of our associates don’t know why I love you. Which is just stupid of them, and I don’t owe them anything, none of them are going to read this. It’s not their business why I love you, it’s ours. And I love you because

How can you explain why you love someone? Someone can say ‘they make me laugh’ as much as they want and sure it’s true but is that really why? Can you ever really say why? Isn’t it enough to love somebody, with everything you have? To say, that’s the one I want, for the rest of my life? Who could I possibly need to defend myself to?

I love you because I love you, because I look at you and think I love you, because I inhale and exhale that I love you, because every part of me only feels right with you.

I love you because you embarrassed me but I thought you were kind. I love you because I didn’t ever have to explain anything. I love you because you always came back to me. I love you because you made me happy. I love you because you didn’t let anything stop you from loving me. I love you because you loved me. I love you because when you took my hand I thought I could do anything with that love.

I love you because you were mine. I love you because you looked at me. And I love you because it was more than that, it always was.

I love you because of the records you played. I love you because of the time we taught Bertrand to make root beer floats. I love you because you’d rehearse our lines with us even though you can’t act. I love you because of the way you would stand in the kitchen and wonder what you should make for dinner. I love you because you said you’d plant strawberry bushes in the backyard. I love you because you could never stand Geraldine Julienne. I love you because we would all sit around the table in my apartment and critique the newspaper articles together. I love you because you’d never take the train. I love you because Bertrand and I found every shortcut in the city for you. I love you because you and Bertrand would knit me the ugliest sweaters on purpose. I love you because you would take care of the bats for me and you were terrible at it.

I love you because you were wonderful where it counted. I love you because we’d stay up late and watch movies. I love you because you would hold Bertrand like it was the most important thing in the world. I love you because you would furrow your brow when you read something you didn’t like. I love you because you’d take me to the beach when it was cold. I love you because we went on picnics in the summer. I love you because when I walked into our apartment and then when I walked into our house it always felt like home. I love you because we made up that cat. I love you because you’d sing with me. I love you because Bertrand would take us bird-watching and name the birds with us. I love you because you bought me flowers.

I love you because you told me what happened. I love you because we went back there with you. I love you because I went into the lighthouse. I love you because I wasn’t going to not go. I love you because no one else would’ve gone. I love you because we let you walk out the door there and I knew you would come back.

I love you because we used to make out in the back of the movie theater and we’d take turns with Bertrand and then try to piece together what even happened in the movie when we got home. I love you because you used to sit in dark rooms with me and pretend we were ghosts and scare the other volunteers. I love you because we could just read for hours and not say a word. I love you because you let me cry in the bathroom. I love you because you would make up songs on the accordion when I was upset. I love you because I would whistle along when you did songs I knew. I love you because you would go out of your way to buy crackers. I love you because you would say things like “when we first met, you were pretty, and I was lonely” and you let me laugh. I love you because you would write me notes during class. I love you because you looked the same way I did the first time we saw Bertrand—shocked, and then a little impressed, and then irritated, because who did he think he was? I love you because who did any of us think we were, really. I love you because we grew to not care. I love you because we became people I was proud of.

I love you because you would feed that cat in the back alley on your way home and I would watch you from the window. I love you because that cat followed us to our house and then we had a real live legitimate cat until someone across the street put out better cat food. I love you because of the way you would read out loud, because you couldn’t act but when you read it was like seeing the sunrise for the first time. I love you because the one thing you did that was better than Bertrand was make tea. I love you because you taught me all your cookie recipes. I love you because we got you to sleep in the middle so we could protect you. I love you because they couldn’t take that away from me.

I love you because I’m here in an otherwise empty house, some boxes still unpacked, letting the dust settle, pouring my heart out when I don’t want to, because I do love you with everything I have, every part of me, every bone and every sigh and every drop of blood, and that’s the end of that. That’s all there is, I love you. That’s what it comes down to, I love you. That’s the only thing I want to say, I love you.

I do, I do love you. Lemony, please believe me.

-------

I know Bertrand has his own thoughts, his own opinions. He doesn’t want to admit that he does, but he gets this, look, on his face. Like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, like he’s lost something special but it was there a moment ago, wasn’t it. He thinks I haven’t noticed. After all this time, he thinks he’s not supposed to be here, and you it hurts, is all.

And as much as Bertrand is a part of us, indelibly, forever, just as you are, both of you so a part of me that I ache with it, this letter is between you and me. Not because it was the two of us first. But because you know, for as much as I don’t want to, I’ll say the things Bertrand won’t.

That’s how this has to be.

-------

So.

Olaf’s started talking to me again, which I didn’t think would happen in a million years. Although maybe I shouldn’t call it talking? More like, he sort of shows up if he knows I’m at headquarters (which is far and few between anyway so, really, what the hell?) and lounges in doorways with these big smiles and says these dramatic things at me instead of to me, which he can’t possibly expect me to believe. How stupid does he think I am? Because I’m not. He keeps going, hey Beatrice, have you read the Daily Punctilio? And I don’t say anything to him, even though yes, I’ve read the Daily Punctilio, dammit.

You and I both know what’s in the Daily Punctilio, and for a while I thought, maybe you were writing those articles yourself, part of another fragmentary plot, and that you’d tell me about it later, and you’d explain it to me, even though I wouldn’t need it to be explained, not really. But you didn’t. Not that you didn’t explain, you just, you just didn’t tell me anything. And you were gone and I couldn’t even see you anyway and that was what really made it hard? It wasn’t like I doubted you. I didn’t. I didn’t doubt you. I knew you wouldn’t do any of those things.

But everyone looked at me and they looked so damn pitying, like, oh it happens to the best of us, only he’s not the best of us. Maybe you should’ve seen it coming, well you know what he’s like, as if nothing had ever happened? As if we hadn’t grown up together? As if we wouldn’t have followed you to the ends of the earth because we believed in you? It’s not everyone, but it’s enough. Like some of them don’t owe you their lives.

Bertrand says that people deal with things in different ways, and saying those things about you is probably just another way they’re dealing with everything. Don’t you think it’s harder, it’s gotten harder, as we’ve gotten older? But they don’t have to throw you under the bus to do it. They don’t have to vilify you to make themselves feel better. They don’t have to look me in the eye like that, like I’m some, some poor miserable thing, or like I have to be protected, or like I don’t know what I’m doing, or like they can’t even trust me.

But what does that make me?

And Olaf would grin at me and I would hold my head high and look him back and spit in his face. I wasn’t going to let it get to me. It had only been a month. How long is a month, in the grand scheme of things? What does a month matter, against the beginning of a lifetime? And when a month became two, what did that matter?

-------

I wouldn’t say that Hector and I were ever particularly close, but I’ve actually seen a lot of him lately. We meet up for tea because he keeps saying there’s something he wants to talk to me about but mostly he sits there and looks at his tea and I pretend I’m not super uncomfortable. And then he insists on paying the check, in exact change.

When I see Hector, I think about Haruki. I know how close they were. And Haruki respected you so much, more than anyone else. As in, he respected you more than he respected any of our other friends, but also more than maybe anyone else respected you, because that was how Haruki was. Loyal, the best of the best, and so fierce about it. I wanted him there at our wedding.  

Haruki was really the first person we lost, I guess. And I hate how we’re never going to know how it happened, because they say no one else was there, and the one person we do know was there, he’s never going to say a damn thing about it, and we all know that for sure. But I remember everyone gathering around to write Haruki’s obituary and how little we had to say. Not because we didn’t know him. But because, what were we going to say? What did we have left to say, who did Haruki have left, besides us? And what were we?

Hector looks at me and I don’t know what to say to him. He doesn’t know what to say to me. I’m terrified he’s going to tell me I should’ve known better too because then I won’t be able to stand it. But he just looks at me and I try not to cry and I’m trying not to cry now because he’s feeling it too, this awful business of feeling like things are starting to break. Sometimes I feel Hector is going to disappear, too.

--------

I guess the question I started to think was, how long was I going to wait. Bertrand and I had waited for longer, and then there were times where we never waited, and hadn’t we reached a point where we weren’t supposed to, anymore? But then, when you’re married, aren’t you supposed to do whatever you have to?

But doesn’t it go both ways? One half can do their part but doesn’t the other half have to do something too and how much is it before you’re asking too much but how long is it before you’re not doing enough and when you’re married aren’t you supposed to know the answers to all the questions, the right and the wrong ones, you’re not supposed to care and you’re supposed to be there and it’s all is supposed to be okay, and

We never did do anything traditionally, though, did we?

-------

I saved the article. I didn’t save all of them, but I saved this one.

-------

UNIDENTIFIED BODY IDENTIFIED

The unidentified body recently pulled from the downtown river has been identified as local ex-theater critic and renowned person of interest, Lemony Snicket, who was last seen surveying the river and saying, “How deep do you think it really is?”

“For the record,” said the local police, who preferred to remain nameless and sent in their response by postcard from three towns over, “it was three feet.”

Mr. Snicket was identified by a source who was also unidentified, but proved their credentials by singing a variety of showtunes for the newspaper staff, to great applause.

“Yes, I suppose that’s him,” said the source, when asked to identify the photo of the river, which was presented to them while they were drinking a glass of water, because they were parched after the showtunes. When the glass of water spilled on the photograph, the source went on to say, “Oh, that’s definitely him.”

The body in question disappeared as soon as it was found, but the police have no reason to suspect foul play, as no livestock was found at the scene, the morgue, or the local bakery, and neither does our source.

“Can I leave now?” asked the source. “I need to go pick up my glasses.”

Mr. Snicket has recently been the suspect in a number of crimes, including arson, lockpicking, theft, and jaywalking without a license. He has been described as “that’s not what I would call a grey suit, it leaned closer to charcoal.” There is no planned funeral service at this time.

-------

Bertrand and I laughed a lot, because it was the most outrageous article we’d ever read, and we kept talking about what sort of bakery would even allow livestock inside, and of course we knew it was about you, but of course it wasn’t you, because we didn’t know where you were but we knew you were alive. You were alive, so no matter what we read or what anyone told us, no matter who wanted to believe what, we knew the truth.

And, again, Lemony, it wasn’t that I needed you to explain. It was that I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to let me in on it. I wanted you to call or come by and tell us, your husband and your wife, hey no big deal but I’m gonna fake my death for the foreseeable future, is that okay? And instead I have to find out from Olaf waving it in my face? I have to find out from some absurd article I shouldn’t have even looked twice at? I have to find out from people I thought were my friends telling me I should have known better?

I sure don’t need to tell you, but, we just got married, Lemony! And we had a house and a life and plans and no matter what happened, no matter what else we had to do, because there was no way we were ever going to give this up and we knew that, we were going to stay together, we were going to do this, what we promised, not to other people but to ourselves, and each other,  and

Sometimes I want to think that you planned it like that, that you sat down and thought to yourself about the best worst way to do it and you thought, leaving us alone like this and faking your death and not saying a single word was the greatest way to break our hearts, especially after marrying us, that would hurt the most, you wanted to do it so you did it and you got away from us for good like you always wanted because you were never going to stay and you knew it, because then I can hate you like I’m supposed to and stop thinking of the way you smile at me

I hate that you aren’t a cruel person, I hate that you didn’t do it on purpose, I hate that the real true human tradition is that people are human and nothing else

How am I supposed to do this?

a bird up in her chamber

eats love for breakfast lunch and dinner

and steadily gets thinner

sings songs she won’t forget,

in the darkness by the lamps

says the shapes of lonely words

said by lonely people

in lonely rooms

to feel better about

being

so

so

what is a life with this alone

what is a life

like this?

“when we grab you by the ankle, where your life is ours to take

you’ll soon be doing wicked things, they’ll keep you long awake

when your whole life is a secret then you’ll be a volunteer

and you’ll scream a long time later, for

the world was never quiet here.”

-------

Bertrand has been making lists. You know his tendency to organize, but the funny thing is he just keeps leaving them places. I’m sitting on like, three of them.

To Do

-Check maps

-Apologize to D

-Extra key

-Secure boat

-Study family trees

To Buy

-Thick, sturdy rope

-Do they make portable record players?

-Paintbrushes (for then and now, so get extra)

-White curtains? Will they match? Check ‘To Think’

-Extra wires, no candles!

To Think

-Ask Kit about Bernadette

-Examine garden for hiding spots

-Turtles or foxes?

-What if it turns out to be true?

-Or birds??

Definitely not birds.

-------

You know, I haven’t seen Jerome in a while. Maybe it’s also been two months, I’m not sure. I feel like, even before the wedding, we weren’t seeing much of him—although it wasn’t like Jacques paraded him around or anything in the first place—but since then, I don’t think Jacques has even talked about him.

This means Jacques’s Tuesdays are open now, although you’d never know it. He still only shows up when he wants to. And if he doesn’t want to, then you have as much luck finding him as finding a grammar rule Jo doesn’t know. It must run in the family. I hate to

I had Kit get ahold of him for me. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know what to say to Kit anymore, which is unsettling, but Kit acts like she always does. She comes over and makes herself at home and talks to both of us like this is average everyday Kit business for her. I don’t know if I admire her tenacity or if it’s going to be something else I can’t stand down the line. I don’t know yet. She hugged me when she left, though. That’s just how Kit is. And I don’t really want to lose that.

I wasn’t sure if Kit would know, the thing I wanted to ask Jacques. I guess it wouldn’t surprise me if she did, but when I saw her I thought, maybe she didn’t know. She didn’t talk about you at all. And it wasn’t the ‘I’m Kit Snicket and I’m Being Purposefully Vague For Reasons, Now Deal With It’ sort of silence, it was the ‘I’m Kit Snicket and I Refuse to Admit I Don’t Know This Piece of Information, So I’m Going to Rearrange Your Bookshelves’ sort of silence. Still don’t know where she put T.S. Eliot. I think she took it with her.

Jacques didn’t want to talk to me. He’s too polite to say it, but I could tell. He kept making excuses, and by the time we finally got him to come here, he was uncomfortable and I was on edge. He came right out and said he couldn’t stay long. He knew why I wanted to talk to him and he told me straightforward that he couldn’t tell me.

I’m not proud of what I said to him.

-------

If it was the last day, but it probably was but Lemony, I don’t I sure didn’t know.

I will remember every second until the day I die.

We waited until after the wedding to move into the house, especially because the only honeymoon we wanted was for the three of us to be there together, alone, for a little while. It was on the outskirts of the city, away from everything else, and we barely told anyone. We didn’t even tell everyone from the wedding.

I watched the sunrise, the soft shadows sliding along the sheets on the bed, catching on the suitcases we still hadn’t unpacked all the way, you and Bertrand warm beside me, and I didn’t want to get up. We put the best bed in the whole world in our room, and rightly so. High bed posts but no canopy because Bertrand was worried about dust. Crisp white sheets and I was so excited to look when we finally got up and see the wrinkles mashed down in them from where we slept because that meant it was ours for real. That rich wine comforter that it was too hot to use the first night so we still had it folded up at the foot of the bed, but you had this look in your eyes when we spread it out like you couldn’t wait for winter and when we’d be squished up against each other underneath it for warmth.

That morning, I just wanted to lay there and savor it. It wasn’t like we’d never been in the same bed before, or that we even needed to be married, but! To know I could hold it in my hands, that’s what it was.

And then Bertrand rolled over and got an elbow into my side somehow and you mumbled something about Wedding Pancakes (capitals implied) and then we had to eat breakfast.

I checked. The wrinkles were all there.

-------

Bertrand and I.

We haven’t

We’ve been

We’ve been angry at each other.

And you know Bertrand, he doesn’t get angry, really, he gets, more disappointed than anything, but he’s. He’s been angry. At me. I know.

I get scared, because I don’t know what to do, so I, I can’t hold a conversation without yelling at somebody, and it’s usually Bertrand, and I hate yelling at him and sometimes he starts to yell back.

We’re not. Okay. Right now.

We weren’t supposed to do this without you and I don’t want to find out that we can’t, Lemony. And I know we can but I know it’s also not a matter of doing it with or without you, because that’s awful, I just keep wondering what if you were what held us all together and if you’re not here how are Bertrand and I supposed to go on like this. Saying the wrong things, avoiding each other, not coming home. I guess that’s how we’re ‘dealing’ with it but that’s sure some sick way to do it.

I don’t want to lose anybody and fighting for them means that I want to keep screaming until everything stops.

-------

Jacques said you’d be back soon enough.

I told him I needed to know how soon was soon.

He said soon enough.

I said that wasn’t enough.

I never though of Jacques as one to yell. And he didn’t really yell, he mostly raised his voice, like I couldn’t hear him. I mean I was definitely talking over him but it was because I could hear him and I didn’t want to.

No one can tell me anything I don’t know. I know they think I haven’t felt the same worries as everyone else but that’s because I never wanted them to think that I did. And I did too good a job, apparently. I know we live hard lives, Jacques. I know it requires sacrifices, Jacques. I know there’s no guarantee, Jacques. I know there’s things you have to give up. I know you can’t be childish or selfish in this business. I know we knew what would happen. I know sometimes no matter how hard you try, you’re just going to fail.

He told me to wait for you.

-------

After breakfast, we organized the library, because we still had so many things in boxes but we agreed we had to get that done. We put everything in, every repeat copy and every notebook because we actually had room for everything instead of trying to cram it all into smaller bookshelves. The library was the biggest room in the house and had that beautiful windowseat. (It still does. We’re still in this house, after all, but this moment, this day, just isn’t right now.) I’ll admit I spent more time lounging on it than I did organizing books, but, you sat on that windowseat with me, you knew how comfortable it was. I loved those windows and how bright the sun was (really.) and how good I knew it was going to look when it was raining. And you agreed, and Bertrand rolled his eyes at us, and I told him, he got his natural light, what more did he want?

For two people to stop lazing around and figure out if we were going in alphabetical order or by genre or by which ones most recently made us cry over lunch, Bertrand said.

It was alphabetical, of course.

We forgot about lunch, because we put the record player in the library until we could find another place for it and started playing our favorites. Bertrand could dance by then, obviously, we wouldn’t have married him if he couldn’t. We were very good at dancing together, after practicing for so long. No one was ever going to do a better three-way tango and we all knew it.

We picked through the fridge and some of the wedding gifts, once we got hungry and tired of dancing. We found out Jerome somehow still sent us at least thirty coasters, and learned that he apparently wildly overestimates our social life, because there was no way we were going to be inviting thirty people at a time over anymore, or at least, not for a while. You and Bertrand stacked them in the dining room in a cabinet, and those you organized by color. Then we stood at the window there and looked out into the garden (the best view of it was from the dining room) and talked about the flowers we were going to plant, and how Ramona was going to send us (express) a clipping from one of the rosebushes in her garden, the ones we’d look at during her family’s masked balls.  

We went to the corner store down the street and you and Bertrand pretended to fuss over tomatoes while I was looking at loaves of bread and when I turned around you were buying flowers for me, red and bright and beautiful. We put them in the kitchen while we all made dinner (salmon, with cherry tomatoes). Somehow I found the time to make sorbet for dessert and it was only then we realized how late it was and we laughed a lot that day and laughed a lot then because we didn’t need to care about things like that. Our house was barely put together and we tried to find a way to use every single coaster from Jerome and we hadn’t had words with the city about the electricity yet because there was so much we’d had to do beforehand that we had to use candles. We all had matches, and we weren’t naive enough to think we wouldn’t have them.  

I can’t tell you how powerful I felt, lighting those candles, because I know you and Bertrand felt it too. This was our doing and ours alone. This space was ours. We looked at each other over the candles, the shadows on our faces, and we’d never looked clearer.  

We could’ve lived forever, in that moment.  

-------  

I called your brother a coward and I told him that whatever happened to Jerome now that he wouldn’t protect him was his fault and his alone and if he could live with himself that’s fine but I couldn’t if I didn’t try to do this and if he didn’t tell me where you were I was going to kill him where he stood and he shouldn’t even think for one second that I wasn’t capable of doing what had to be done and if that meant I had to kill for what I wanted then I would.

-------  

You kissed us in the morning. You smiled. You walked out the door and then came back because you forgot your hat and Bertrand and I were still laughing even as the door shut behind you.  

And then you were gone.  

-------  

Kit came by again, after.  

We sat in that silence.  

She told me that it was the one thing they hadn’t told her. She hadn’t known, until I asked Jacques. We don’t have anywhere else to go, she said, in a moment of unprecedented candidness. So we always come back.  

“I underestimated him,” she said.  

I told her she could keep The Wasteland, since it was practically hers because it had been yours. Kit smiled. She didn’t say much else.  

-------  

Bertrand and I aren’t the only ones losing someone here and I forgot that.  

Jacques and I looked at each other for a long time. I tried to apologize and he kept shaking his head. He told me where you were. He told me he didn’t know when you’d be back—or if you would at all. He told me he was the one writing the articles in the Daily Punctilio. He turned away from me. Then he gave me his handkerchief, and put his hand on mine, and got up and left.

-------  

What it feels like, Lemony, is like you

It feels like you picked

It feels like we didn’t matter and

And it’s not like we could ever choose or have one or the other I know I know I know but

We’re never going to be without it but I thought that

WE GOT MARRIED, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, LEMONY SNICKET

You picked an idea of nobility that you spent the past ten years struggling with and denouncing and promising you’d never

It wasn’t like we ever set out to save you anyway I

At the end of the day, that’s it. You picked the organization over us. And I didn’t think we were going to have to draw lines like that. At least not now. At least not right now. Because that means I have to make a decision. Because it means I can’t only think about me. Because it means I can’t keep waiting. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.  

-------  

I found out the other day.

I had a feeling, though. You just, you either have the feeling or you don’t, right? And I did. And I keep thinking about what your reaction would be. What you’d say. I keep thinking about your eyes, bluer than blue. I keep thinking about the world we said we were going to make when we were kids, the people we said we’d be. We were tiny and young and idealistic and you’re really only that way once in your whole life and when you’re not anymore, you can’t go back.  

-------  

We can’t go on like this.  

stripped off my dress like a skin,

peeled

so you could see everything

not only then,

but always.

didn’t know i was doing it,

guess i never really ran out of clothes.

you took off you shirt

and I was jealous.

you only needed to do it once and there you were.

I thought.

but now I keep finding shirts

in the places where I found you

and I can’t

find anything

that was mine

to put back on

I really can’t do anything

-------  

Enclosed you’ll find the ring. I know it’s not just the ring I married you with, but the ring I married Bertrand with, but whenever we look at it we think of you and I’m the one who has to wear it all the time and I can’t.  

But I don’t want to give it back because what if it’s the only thing I get to keep of you? But it wasn’t ever mine anyway, or yours, and who knows, maybe Ramona will marry Olivia with it someday, and maybe you’ll be there, only you wouldn’t be if you got the ring back, you’d never show your face again.  

And that’s not what I want, I don’t want you out of my life, Lemony, but if I give it back then maybe I do. Maybe that is what I want. Maybe I never want to see you again like this.  

-------  

Okay, I have to ask. I have to, because Jacques kept his mouth shut about this.  

The last time you saw us. Not the day, but the morning, walking out the front door. Did you know you weren’t coming back? You just left like you always did, to go to the newspaper, before Bertrand and I went to the theater, and as far as leaving someone for good goes that’s so

Did you meet up with Jacques, or Hector, or Jo, or even Kit, and did they tell you? Did headquarters address you personally? Did you take an assignment from someone else? Did someone corner you and were you trying to protect us? Was that the only way you could do it, going into hiding and faking your death? Who else was involved, besides Jacques? How long was it going to go on for? Did they expect you to do it by yourself? Did you have a plan, did any of them have a plan? What fragmentary plot was it even a part of? Did you know you weren’t coming back? Could you even come back? Did it even happen right away? Did it start out as some mediocre assignment you were going to tell us about later and then what happened so that I was reading the paper and there you were being accused of things I knew you’d never do? Why didn’t they ask me? Why didn’t they ask Bertrand? Why didn’t they ask us? You knew we’d do it together, we swore we’d do it together, why didn’t you tell us? What made it so that you couldn’t?  

Or did you really decide for yourself that that was it?  

I don’t want to believe that. I don’t, Lemony. I want to believe that it was one thing and then another but do you know why I can’t, why I keep asking? Do you understand why I need to know the truth? Why I need to be able to put it together? Why waiting and trusting isn’t enough anymore?  

--------  

No one could ever extinguish my love, Lemony, no one, nothing, not a single solitary thing ever, nothing could do it, but my trust is a different matter. Loving someone and trusting someone are two different things and I know you know that as much as I do. You. Knew. All. Of. This.  

-------

You know. If it had ended at the article. I might’ve been okay with it. I might have. Not making any promises, because we both know better than that. But I might’ve. I could’ve.  

It didn’t end with the article.  

Olivia had a short-lived assignment working the telegrams recently. She gave Ramona a very specific telegram. Olivia was honestly surprised it had come through at all. That something like that would be sent over such an insecure line. And of course she showed Ramona. They didn’t show it to anyone else. Which was lucky, because you know Olivia. She wanted to do whatever she could.

Ramona sent it to me. Right away. I got it yesterday. She said she’d never felt worse in her entire life. She said she was sorry. She’s the only one who didn’t sound patronizing about it.

J.S.,

AS WELL AS CAN BE EXPECTED STOP GOING ON FULL STOP

M.K.

I never liked Monty Kensicle all that much as a name either.  

-------  

Lemony I can’t help but think that you’re sick of me, sick with me

It wasn’t like I ever—like I did it to be similar, I would NEVER, because both of us had our reasons for why we did what we did, you on that train, me and Bertrand at the opera. We knew what we were doing. Did we regret it? Enough for it to hurt, on the wrong days. Not enough for it to matter, in the long run. But enough for it to stop me every once in a while, in the way I know it stopped you.

But, but did you think, you couldn’t love someone who

Which would be, extraordinarily hypocritical of you, not to mention

I know you still think about it and I know how much it

I paid my price for what I did, Lemony, and so did you, and I didn’t

Is that how it works? Is that what happens? Is this what else I have to give up, for some shred of nobility, is my life going to be one mistake after another because I followed an order and I though they were right enough? Not even right, right enough, how stupid—is everything that happens to me going to be because of that? Am I losing you because it’s what I deserve?

Don’t I deserve good things? Don’t I still deserve happiness, and stability, and love, and a family, and all those things I worked so hard for? Because nobility wasn’t the end of it for me, this was what we wanted, something better, something for us, something we deserved, and this can’t be it, this can’t be the only thing we get for all of that, there has to be something else! And if I lose everyone close to me because of this organization Lemony I swear I don’t know what I’m going to do I feel like I’m going to lose my mind like this

--------  

I think of you out there, alone, and probably cold because you never bring a damn jacket with you anywhere. It’s summer but I’m imagining you as being cold, but I think that’s just because it’s sort of what you do when anyone thinks of someone as being anywhere alone.

Or, I’m just—I’m thinking of you out there, alone, for sure. I’m doing that. I’m thinking. About you. Alone.  

I’m

thinking.  

I think of you. Out there. Letting Jacques know, letting Olivia know, because you had to know who was working the telegram, otherwise you wouldn’t have sent it, I think of you going out of your way to tell your brother and not me and Bertrand and maybe you thought they’d tell me anyway but I had to pull teeth to get it from Jacques and if it had been anyone else! No one but Olivia would have said! You got lucky! But not enough! Because you still didn’t tell us! You went out of your way to not!! You! I think of you! Doing that instead of having the nerve! The decency! To tell us first! You!

How could you

How could you

-------  

I think of you, out there—hiding in the middle of nowhere with only the occasional newspaper for company, which, let me tell you, Lemony, is a very frustrating existence. You know what? I keep wanting to hope that you are dead because somehow that would make this easier, I can be angry at a dead man. But I can be angry at anyone, can’t I. Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter. I can be angry.  

I want to hope that you never sleep comfortably again. I want to hope that every sea is too uneven and every desert is too hot and every mountain is too cold and everywhere you go it’s too much. I want to hope that you try and come back and see how good and happy Bertrand and I are without you and you have to realize, you really did mess up. I want to hope that your boat goes down in the middle of the ocean and I know for sure! I want to think that you’ll be so miserable without us and it’ll never have been worth it!!  

You’re out there, without us. Without me.

I hope it was worth it.  

-------

What am I going to do?

I’m not picking. It’s not—I’m not capable of that, picking between you two, and I know you both had this ridiculous fear that I was going to, but I wasn’t, and I’m still not. I am selfish and clingy and I know what I want and I love what I have, and I love both of you and Bertrand loves both of us and I was ready to stake my life on the fact that you loved both of us too.  

And I hate that I have to say it! Because I do! Apparently I do have to, Lemony! If it comes down to, who would I rather do this with, who would I raise a family with, who would I trust more than anything, and you made me make this choice, I’m sorry it can’t be the man who ran away from me! And part of me keeps thinking I’m not even me for saying that, I’m not, I’m not the Beatrice that was going to tear a room apart with her bare hands to get what she wanted, who would scale walls and climb buildings and shoot a gun and could ski and fence by fourteen, I’m not, taking risks, I’m not doing whatever I have to, and that everyone who told me Bertrand was boring (because there were people!!!) and safe and uncomplicated was right and that I’m betraying some fundamental aspect of myself by not even trying, and that I’m hurting Bertrand especially for making him a damn pawn in what I think my life is

But it’s not like I never did! It’s not like I didn’t spend years and years of my life trying to be a good person, trying to create the life I wanted, all of this is me, every ugly thought and every bad decision and every unfinished book and every theater script I keep leaving around places and every single page of this as I try to figure out where I want to go from here! And it just comes back to one thing, Lemony, just one thing! That we can’t do this! That I can’t have you in my life like this! That I didn’t believe it would happen but here it is, it’s happening!! I can’t avoid it! You walked away from me and expected me to be okay with it! You expected me to wait! You expected me to do it! You expected EVERYTHING from me and I only have so much to give, I’m only so much, I CAN’T DO EVERYTHING

And do you know what I am? Do you know what I am, really, when I get right down to it?? I am this, this awful woman with blood on my hands asking you for something that even I could never give anybody, not you or Bertrand or myself and I’m so sick of everything, I’m so sick of myself, I hate everyone and myself most of all, for being like this, for turning into this person, I hate hate hate hate hate all of this and how we were raised and what our future is going to be and what I’ve done and what is it going to take, for things to be better, for me to be better, for—what is it going to take, Lemony, for you to walk back through that door again and not do it over and over and over and I can’t keep letting you do this, I can’t, not to me or to Bertrand, I can’t keep hoping you’ll be there when I wake up and I can’t keep dreaming we’re going to die and I can’t keep pretending that anything about us has ever been okay or ever will be okay! Nothing about this is okay and how am I only realizing it now? How long have we been fooling ourselves into thinking that we could do this? How long do I have to be kind about this? How long do I have to play nice about you and this?  

I’m UPSET and I’m ALLOWED TO BE and I

don’t

know

if

I

can

forgive

you

I don’t know if I want to. I don’t know if I can look at you anymore.

I don’t know.  

Do you know how it was, Lemony? It was us first. You and me. From the second we saw each other in that green-walled room, it was you and me. Lemony and Beatrice. Root beer floats and being purposely mysterious to each other when we talked and being too clever. And I thought that meant we could do anything. We could die and I’d be happy because I was with you. As long as I had you.  

And then there was Bertrand. And life felt different. Bertrand made it different, Bertrand made life different, he made it worth something else. And the bond that you and I had? Irreplaceable. And what we created with him only made it better. We had room in what we had for something so good. It really was Bertrand. I don’t know what would’ve become of us if it hadn’t been for him. And I saw that in you, too. You thought it too.

That was when I worried. When I started dreaming about terrible things happening to us. To you. I kept running from it because I didn’t know what else to do. I just didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to lose.  

I’m scared to do anything. I’m scared to be wrong. I’m scared to know anything else.  

I’m scared to die.  

I don’t think you are.  

I’m not sorry.  

-------  

Here are some questions. Here are some facts. Here are some things.  

1 – I’m tired.

2 – I can’t even wonder if we should have done things differently anymore, right after that moment we met. In that room, I never imagined any of this.

3 – Sometimes I do think you lied all along. And that’s not a reflection on our associates or anything but just, see question/statement 1.

4 – You had to have thought about what would happen.

5 – How could we have a family like this?

6 – Did you think you could run all your life? Did you think that would work out? That Bertrand and I would be satisfied with that?

7 – Did you want me like that?

8 – What am I supposed to do?

9 – How long did you think we could keep this up?

10 – Was I wrong?

11 – What did you want?

12 – I know you’d thought about what a family with us would look like and I didn’t think you’d let anything stand in the way of that and maybe that was where I was naive.

13 – What would you say if I asked you this in person?  

-------  

After all this, I—  

Bertrand has asked me if I have any spare pens.  

-------  

Lemony—

A long time ago, I sat in the diner near your apartment. We’d all known each other for a while, and you and Bea were very much together, and I didn’t quite feel like a third wheel anymore but I also didn’t feel like I was a part of everything yet. We were still dancing around each other, and I was doing it truly, incredibly badly.  

I was in the habit of meeting Jo on weekends, when we would go over our reports together because we worked in similar places. We’d meet in the diner. I would arrive early and take a seat near the door. It had the best view of your window. You never turned the lights on, but I would look at it and think about you and—I’m completely serious—write the worst poetry ever to exist. You and Bea have always been much better at it. Jo would take it upon herself to help and suddenly they were these grammar-specific poems, which meant I definitely was not going to send them. Jo is many things; Jo is just not particularly a writer of romance.

I never told you or Bea, because it didn’t seem noteworthy, once we were together. But, things happen in your life and you wish you’d been able to say so much more than you did. I wanted to tell you about the face Bea makes when you aren’t there. She bites her lip and frowns around the kitchen when there’s a lull in the conversation in the spots you would usually say something clever. I wanted to tell you how the bed doesn’t feel the same when you aren’t in it. Bea says the wrinkles don’t set the same, and I feel like it’s emptier without you. I wanted to tell you that the hottest summer days—and I feel like there have been an endless amount of them so far this summer, humid and muggy and not the least bit sultry—even they feel cold when we can’t see you. I wanted to tell you that every time I do the laundry, I remember how you can’t fold socks. I wanted to tell you that I’ve stopped folding socks altogether, which has become quite the problem. Bea and I have stacks of socks in the bedroom now, which is just silly. I wanted to tell you that I love watching you put your hat by the door when you come home, resting it on the table as gently as possible, giving such a small gesture has such a big importance.

I took those things for granted. So much of my life, I’ve thought that loving things so fiercely and so determinedly could be enough, and I’ve relied on that love to get me through what we had to do. Even when the three of us weren’t together, I think I would’ve been happy to stay that way, because I could still love both of you regardless, and just that would’ve been enough. Just to be able to love you, and have your companionship. I would have cherished that always.

I’m the one who’s been so lucky, Lemony. When we all got together, I felt like my life began. I felt like you and Bea pulled me along into something beautiful and breathtaking and nothing would ever compare. I felt like it would always be there, for the rest of my life.

And I’m—

I don’t hate you. I could never. You need to know, that no matter what happens, I will never hate you. I can’t promise to not be upset with you, because I am, and a little angry, and a little disappointed, and a lot sad. But I don’t hate you.

You and Bea have such beautiful ways to say things, and I’ve always been so jealous of the way you two write. You told me that both of you were jealous of my tendency to be a little more forthright, at least when I got down to it, because let’s not forget, I did spend two months coming up with nicknames for all of us instead of just telling you how much you meant to me. But I don’t have lengthy or passionate ways to say certain things, is what it is. Actions, definitely. But when I have to say it, it comes out.

I love you.

And I wish you were here.  

I never wanted to think about it, I guess. I’ve done a very good job of not thinking of things I didn’t want to think about. We do difficult things and live difficult lives. It takes its toll, and I’ve watched it happen. I thought if I held on tight enough—to you, to Bea, to myself—that we could escape some of it, no matter what we’ve done. And we’ve done a lot. We’ve been kept up in turn by sleepless nights and bad dreams and wondering too much. We’re not going to leave—not for good, and each of us know that—but it could be more manageable, together. We would figure it out, when we needed to. Perhaps I was a bit too optimistic about how well I could do it.

I hate to think it was something we did, or something we didn’t see. I hate to think that you gave up on yourself or on us. I hate to think I didn’t do enough. I know it’s not necessarily anyone’s fault. I know Bea keeps telling me I’m too kind for my own good, and I think it’s because I’m afraid to really feel anything. Feeling it makes it too real, something I have to actually contend with, and I don’t want to. I really don’t.

I want to say—I don’t want to tell you, I just want to say it—that I’m more hurt than I’ve ever been, and I don’t feel like I belong here without you, and that I think, you didn’t want to do it, but you knew what you were doing, and you did it because some things just sound easier, or hurt more but hurt less than others, and that I despise the people that we’ve become. I despise the things that we’ve been made into, and I don’t know how much of it we did to ourselves. I don’t know how much I can change.  

I won’t lie, Lemony, because I’ve never been much of a liar. It’s been hard without you. Bea and I haven’t been talking very much, and we get into arguments when we do. We’ve been avoiding each other. It’s hard to avoid someone you live with, for a lot of reasons. But we’ve been managing to do it. I’ve been hiding at the Denouement. Absolutely, definitely hiding. Dewey’s not pleased but he doesn’t say no to the help organizing the archives. Bea’s been going to the theater, even though she’s technically off-duty for the next seven months (it was self-imposed off-duty, which I’ll admit was surprising). When we do talk to each other, Bea has a tendency to raise her voice, which I don’t mind, necessarily, because I understand why she keeps doing it. I have a tendency of late to do the same, which I’m not proud of. Taking it out on each other isn’t good or responsible of us, but it’s where we are right now. It is a miserable place to be.

Bea assumes I’m upset with her, but I’m not. I’m upset with myself, mostly. I keep thinking that none of this would have happened if I wasn’t here, that I made things worse. If you and Bea had just gone on by yourselves, maybe there would be so much less unhappiness. Maybe I was what made it hard for you to stay. Maybe I pressured you, maybe I pressured myself. Maybe this is my lot in life. They’re awful things to think, but I’m thinking them. That’s what people do, when upsetting things happen. We try to figure out where we went wrong. We don’t come up with any answers, but it’s better than sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves, which we do enough of too. I know eventually we’ll stop hurting each other, Bea and I. It just feels a long way away right now. A lot of things feel that way. You, myself, my friends, anything I thought I knew or had.

I’m being very unkind, to myself. That’s not your fault. It’s just something I’m realizing now. I’ve spent a lot of my life being unkind to myself. I don’t know how not to be. There are many things I don’t believe that I deserve, a sentiment I know you understand. It’s hard to feel like we deserve anything, even what we love. The more I think about it, the more I think, maybe that was why. And that breaks my heart and scares me so much, Lemony, that we—you—are capable of feeling such sadness.

Honestly, part of me wants to keep waiting. The part of me that is a fairly patient person is probably willing to do so. But the other part of me that is less patient and a husband to both of you is the part that hurts, and the part that reminds me that I am allowed to say that there is only so much I can take. I want you here more than anything, but I know for sure none of this is ever going to be that simple again.

But going forward from this, I want to feel like I deserve things. There’s only so much time I can spend regretting, or hating myself, or wishing that I had done something different. It’s easy to get caught up in all of that, and I think I still will be, for a while. I think I’m going to keep thinking miserable things for some time to come. But on the other side of that is something else. Not necessarily a happiness, or a satisfaction, but a certain kind of existence. Or, I guess, a kindness.

I love you very much, Lemony, and I can’t imagine doing this without you. I still don’t want to.

But if you have to—Bea and I aren’t going anywhere. We’ll still be here. I can’t promise in what way, but we’ll be here, if or when or anything at all. I hope you can meet us in that something else one day.  

Until then, with all my love,  

I wish you bluebirds in the spring,

to give your heart a song to sing,

and then a kiss, but more than this,

I wish you love.

And in July, a lemonade

to cool you in some leafy glade,

I wish you health,

and more than wealth,

I wish you love.

My breaking heart and I agree

that you and I could never be,

so with my best,

my very best,

I set you free.

I wish you shelter from the storm,

a cozy fire to keep you warm,

but most of all,

when snowflakes fall,

I wish you love.

  Bertrand    

face the sun

in the night,

find it in the night

in the pieces,

dig for it,

dig it out with my hands alone.

yes.

what I left –

fragments,

every last eye,

unwelcome.

piling it back in.

new sunlight.

-------  

So—the sad truth is that the truth is sad. The real truth is that I never wanted to believe you were right about that. I thought I could get by on good looks and sheer force and well-hidden optimism and believing I was right. I was wrong. We were all wrong, some of us more wrong than others.

Where you went wrong is thinking that we—that I—would be okay with this. And that was where I went wrong too, I admit. The blame could be with all of us.

What I do know is that we can’t be together like this. Not like this. This is where it ends.

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. I don’t know what Bertrand and I will do. And the two of us—Bertrand and I—can figure that out. In whatever way that is. Whatever you’re doing, I leave you to it.  

You will—always, always, always—be (somewhere) in my mind, and (deep) in my heart, and wherever (wherever.) (parenthetical required.) you are. Be it a boat, or a cave, or the city, or a grave, true or false. That’s the way you want it. That’s the way I will accept it. Good luck.

Beatrice