#there must be some shortcut to it im missing

[martenpounce]

We understand what it means to be loyal to our Clan. We have the courage to live by the warrior code. And because of that we'll be the most powerful cats in RiverClan one day, and our Clanmates will have to respect us then.

mothpaw and hawkpaw, in simpler times

[ihopesocomic]

Sorry for the mini-essay but I think people massively underestimate how much hard work and dedication goes into a Passion Project. People think that creators who make free content, who do their work as a hobby and not as a job, must only get enjoyment out of it.

That’s not how it works. Doing it purely because you want to doesn’t automatically make the more challenging, frustrating, or (gasps) TIME CONSUMING parts of the project any less burdensome. If anything, it makes it worse because you aren’t being paid for all of that labor. You’re just doing it for the sake of doing it, and as rewarding as it can be, it can also be demanding.

Im finally publishing a fanfic for the first time and don’t get me wrong, it’s been great to get feedback on my work and interact with a community. I love that there are usernames and profile pictures I can actually identify because they’re regulars on my work.

But does that mean I don’t have to constantly redo work because I don’t like how it turned out? No. Does that mean I always update on time? No. Never get burnout? No. I still very much go through all of the things paid writers do, because the Creative Process is difficult and demanding no matter what they paycheck is or isn’t.

And all of that is just if you guys WERE missing updates, which you’re NOT. So like… these complaints are not only very entitled and ignorant, but also just confusing. People really just be mad for the sake of being mad, I guess?

Anyways yeah, free content creators are still content creators, and passion-driven hard work is still hard work. You two are cranking out absolutely STUNNING visuals, compelling characters and engaging worldbuilding every single week and that’s amazing. Thank you for your hard work and I’m sorry about the twerps that don’t appreciate it enough!

Ah the price we pay for being human and having a brain, amirite haha

It's to be expected, to a certain point, that people simply don't understand that things like comics and cartoons take time. General impatience is something that can be ignored. If people asking for updates bothered us, we wouldn't post anywhere ever haha You gotta have at least SOME backbone if you want to do a comic. Or anything really.

Comics are a TON of work, and I knew this going in cuz I've done shorter comics before. It is not to be treated as if its easy. (Well, its easier than animating a whole series by yourself LOL) There's a lot of pre-comic planning that people don't tell you about. And that's just the stuff you have to do before you even start drawing. Of course this only applies to long-form storytelling, there's different rules for different kinds of comics.

And I won't even get into what it takes to making the comic itself, there's a lot of parts that need to be considered like formatting, time-management, what shortcuts you have to take to save on labor, and getting across as much information as you can in a short amount of time, while using mostly visuals. It's a skill, so it can be learned haha

A lot of doing comics is on-the-job training. Which I know can be frustrating for perfectionists, but from a reader's perspective, part of the joy of webcomics is seeing how far the art has come. And you can't exactly get out a webcomic if you keep redoing things over and over. You'll burn yourself out even faster. This is why it's important to have a plan lol it just makes it easier to adjust if you have to change things, than if you have no plan at all.

Even if RJ and I for whatever reason no longer felt passionate about this story, and wanted to move on to something else entirely, we wouldn't leave everyone hanging. We'd tell everyone what happens one way or another. Because too many people just abandon a story just to tell another one, and that's not fair to people who were here to read a story that appealed to them.

But the entitlement of people sucks, the constant heckling, the fact we can't moderate our own comment section, and more importantly Webtoons just sucks as a site anyway. - Cat

[pumpkinnning]

it happens sooooo often these days that i read books with underwhelming romances where i really enjoy the dynamic and the characters and the tropes and yet there is just something missing

and i think it could be solved if the characters had even one or two more real, deep conversations

i think also that's why the romance in old stuff like Pride and Prejudice still holds so powerfully. it's because they understood the erotic appeal of a Proper Conversation. it's the wit and the wordplay but also it's just like the impression that these people are genuinely interested in what the other thinks. and that they have a brain. and interests. it doesn't need to be about Healthy Communication it can be weird and dishonest and toxic or whatever but just like. the feeling of two minds touching. of a connection happening. of equals sparring with each other. of being Seen and Understood. that is like The Romantic thing to me.

maybe it's because i'm a terminal nerd and very neurodivergent and a lot of people find it boring (and it also explains why my fics are so long winded) but man. im tired of reading stuff where it's just like omg he's hot i find him so attractive he's so cool good trope enemies to lovers boom it must be true love.

like???? show it to me ???? but even when the plot does give proof of the love interest's qualities there is still something detached about that. some people can be great in general and not right for you. and truly (especially for m/f couples) "does he want to know and truly engage with what you think" is often a shortcut for "does he see you as a person" and "does this go beyond instalove/physical attraction" and most of all "is this writer actually making a fucking effort to care about what they're writing"

maybe i am being a snob but like. when a writer just writes about how hot or cool or appealing a character is it's like they're writing from a fantasy in their head and they just expect everyone to conjure their own self insert version and that is so lazy to me like hello you picked words as your medium use some words put the romance in the fucking words make the words sexy give us some good dialogue helloooooooo

like sometimes i just feel reading some books that im still in middle school where talking about your interests or anything of substance made you cringe and boring and not hot and im like damn some people still live like that huh

[syncogon]

tka ep33 (s3 ep9)

my favorite forever-17 baby T_T you look kind of generic here but i still love you

they really made some baffling sartorial decisions in this ep like what's the in-universe reason that li rui and qf are the only ones wearing ee team uniform but then when they go take the challenge qf literally changes out of his uniform to do so. i know narratively it's gonna be so that he can go look for yx at happy cafe but then why not just have him not wearing the uniform here.

also i'm sorry but what even is this tshirt sweater collared shirt qf would never. it's not even red.

tbh i miss clear plastic jacket qf.

anyway. the flashbacks! his expressions! wahhhhh

despite all the other animation complaints, i think i like the fight animation in s3 more than in s2—they're more creative with the choreography which i really enjoy, that's something that you can only really get in this medium, that creative license with the game mechanics. in s2 i noticed they took a lot of shortcuts with like impact backgrounds and face closeups etc

yx's expression when he realizes how much qf hates him at this moment 😭

i like this portrayal of the coaching match! obviously in the novel they can be much more subtle with it, vs here where yx has to point out things explicitly—but i like getting to know these specific details!

qf's angry voice 😭

dm has this saved as his secret desktop wallpaper (sorry someone had to screencap it)

oooh yeah and i remember some of these moves from the trailers. man i love spear fights gotta be my fave cold weapon

omg yx shaking out his hands 😭 also this def would've been a smoke break except we can't show yx smoking anymore lol

maybe in THIS universe qf will catch up to yx <- me, delusional

but no actually the editing for that whole chasing bit, the camera panning and the cuts and split screen—very nice very heart-breaking 🥺 god bb is just so efficient with storytelling like qf isn't even mentioned until now and then BAM heartwrenching backstory

i love how thye convey the difference in time via the lighting... same street but just missed each other...

alrighttt but at least in this universe we must still get the cinematic punch yeahhhh wooooo

the bgm for this whole ep is truly on point

boo he didn't even fall over

ooh next ep preview has some fun shots im excited!!! everlasting! dawn rifle!

[sweetlyskz]

Strange||prologue

Pairing: Poly!ot7 x fem!reader (Jin focus)

Synopsis: You and Jin grew up in an orphanage together. With no parents or family to take care of you, you both looked after each other. You fed one another, clothed one another, cried with one another. But it all changed when he was eventually adopted by a loving family, leaving you all alone. What happens when you're now a grown, successful adult working with him and his six boyfriends?

Genre: Idol Au, angst, A whole lot of confusion lol

A/n: PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU, leave some feedback either in my asks or comment/reblog!! If I get some god feedback then I’ll go ahead and post a full chapter :P

This world doesn’t really offer much. There’s no handouts, no shortcuts, no free passes. At least, not for you anyway.

Although you must admit, being an orphan came with its perks. For example, sorrow, guilt, low self esteem. Yes, these may not seem like perks, but you honestly don’t know what you would do without them. These perks have pushed you beyond your comfort and lead you to unimaginable places.

Kim and Clothes Co.

Owned and operated by you, Miss Kim Y/n herself.

This worldwide business was only a dream and now a well deserved reality. Your clothing company was taking off and never coming down. You had investors and partners from all over the world, some celebrities and other parents trying to please their well dressed daughters. Popular singers and dancers desire to make a clothing line under your guidance.

You really set yourself apart from the usual.

“Don’t forget about that meeting with Bighit in an hour”, your lovely assistant reminds you. You nodded and smiled as you grabbed your cup of coffee from his grasp and walked in your office. It was warm and cozy, with a beautiful view of the city.

Bighit entertainment– one of the most popular labels in South Korea (possibly in the whole world).

However, they would be nothing without their most prized possessions, a group called Bangtan Sonyeondan, Bts for short. They were meeting with you to create a clothing line under Kim & Clothes. This was to be one of your most popular celebrity lines.

“Where are they?” You checked the clock. They were over ten minutes late. Their managers were already in the meeting room, staring at you blankly.

“I’m so sorry Miss. Something important must have happened. They’re usually always on time…”

You rolled your eyes. “More important than this business deal? They’ve got five more minutes or the deal is off and I’m going home.” You tapped on the desk nervously. You weren’t nervous because of possibly losing a business deal. Those come and go. You could find others. Just seeing him for the first time in years makes you queasy.

You look at the clock again. The five minutes were up. You packed your notepad and got up from your seat. “Well, I’ve wasted enough time. I’m sorry but I have to go–”

“Wait!” Someone busted through the door, his head facing the floor. The rest of them trailed behind him. They all looked out of breath. “I’m so sorry. One of the vans broke down and we had to all squeeze in one van, please. Please give us another chance Miss Kim.” He lifted his head so that you could see his face.

“Jin…?”

“Y/n?” He looked at you in awe.

“Y/n?” The others questioned.

The boy groups manager’s stand up. “You guys know each other?” One of them asked.

The room became silent. Jin looked like he was in distress and you couldn’t process a single thought right now. After a couple of minutes you recollected your thoughts and spoke up.

“That’s not important right now. I’m already behind schedule so let's get to it, shall we?”

“Not important? You, not replying to my texts and calls for years, not even trying to reach out to me after I was adopted, that's not important?” You couldn’t even look him in the eyes but you could tell from his voice that he was hurt. The others were confused.

Rightfully so.

“Look, you two can sort what this is out later. Right now we have something more important to discuss”, One of the managers stepped in, sliding in between you and Jin. You put your guard up once again, holding back to tears that dare try to escape your watery eyes.

“H-he’s right. Let's get back to business, please.” You took your seat back at the oval shaped table and laid out all the necessary documents. You had no room in your life to dwell on the past, but now that your past was just thrown in your face it was hard not to.

This is going to be a very difficult partnership.

Events weren’t really your thing. Sitting at home eating popcorn while watching the event, however, sounded more like you. It gave you a better view of all of the dresses you made for the idols and actors, anyway.

“Have you ever thought about making music, noona?” Your assistant asked. Watching award shows on your couch wouldn’t have been fun if Jae wasn’t there to do it with you.

“Nightmare job”, you joked.

“Could Kim Y/n get any more popular?” The television shouted. “Starting her new clothing line with Bangtan is taking her forever growing business to the top!”

You searched frantically for the remote. Your assistant laughed.

“They talk about you like your Beyonce or something”, he teased, holding up the remote.

“Jae, give me that!” You snatched it from his hand and turned it to a different network. “You’re the one who turned the channel!”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, only because I wanted to see if Itzy was gonna perform, duh.”

“Who is Itzy?” You blinked. He got up and walked towards the front door of your million dollar apartment.

“I would explain but I don’t have the time or patience”, Hae sighed. “You have a meeting with the Bangtan Sonyeondan PR team in less than an hour. Get ready.”

You groaned. These business meetings could go on for hours and it was usually nothing important.

When you walked into the corporate office, everyone was already sitting, leaving a spot at the head of the wooden table just for you.

“Miss Kim, pleased to meet you. We were just about to get started”. One of the people from your marketing team ushered you to your seat. They gave you a bit of time to get ready, letting you grab your laptop from your pastel pink purse to take notes. The head of bts’s PR stood at the front of the room and bowed politely.

“Nice to meet you yn-ssi. I’m Jang Minsoo, head of PR. Alongside me are the boys' managers.”, He started.

The rest was tuned out, soon realizing that whatever he had to say had no relevance to you but to your marketing team and accountant.

“Another thing, can we not mention you and Jin knowing each other?”

“What?” They got your attention. “What are you talking about?”

He gulped. “Well, w-we heard about what happened and–”

“Nothing happened”, you interjected. “Mr Kim was just bringing up stuff from the past. Things are different now– I’m different now.”

“I understand ma'am. I apologize”, the man stuttered. They all looked at you with wide eyes.

“It’s okay. I have no intention of bringing up my past with Jin and I’ll make sure it doesn’t interfere with my work, I assure you.”

The room silenced.

“Now if we’re done here, I have a meeting with potential investors in a few minutes.”

Dance practice for the boys was taking longer than usual. Learning the choreography for their new album was no walk in the park and everyone was a little tense, Jin more than the rest. After that meeting, when you shut him down and embarrassed him, he hasn’t been the same.

Everyone noticed it.

They knew you meant something special to him but they didn’t know what. Jin obviously wasn’t going to say anything, considering the meeting was over a week ago, and it was eating Jimin up inside. Were you his ex? An old friend? An enemy? He needed answers, and what better way to them than from the source directly?

He stood in front of your front door nervously. Do I knock? Ring the doorbell? He ended up choosing the latter, pressing the lit up button next to the door. It was tempting to just chicken out, leave all his questions unanswered. But he was there, in front of your apartment, so there was no going back. Especially when you opened the door.

“Mr. Park? May I help you?” He could see the confusion written all over your face.

“Sorry to show up unannounced. I would’ve called but I don’t have your number so..”, He suddenly lost his words, making the situation more awkward.

“Well, would you like to come in? I just finished dinner.”

Jimin was like a detective, looking for clues around your house as you gave him a house tour.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t find anything that showed any relations to Jin, not even a photo. Thinking back on it, he didn’t really see any photos around your apartment. Sure, there were beautiful artworks hanging up, but Jimin didn’t recall seeing any family photos.

He assumed you were just a private person.

You and Jimin seemed to be really getting along. You secretly enjoyed the company. Eating dinner all alone was never fun. Jae would usually join you but he had family plans.

“So, what made you decide to stop by?” You asked him. The better question was how did you get my address, but you didn’t want to get too caught up in the technicalities.

Jimin actually was getting along with you so well, he didn’t want to mention the real reason he came over. Because I thought you were a psycho ex trying to steal my boyfriend, he thought. The guilt was getting to him but he knew had to be honest.

“Well”, he gulped. “I know there’s something going on between you and Jin.”

You choked on your chicken and rice. “What?!”

“He wont tell me anything but I know you meant something to him… I just don’t know what.”

“You need to leave”, You whispered, holding back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“You need to leave before I lose my temper.”

“No”, He stated. “I’m not leaving until I know the truth! Are you just another secret he’s hidden from me?”

You scoffed. “Seems like a problem you and your boyfriend need to figure out. I don’t have to tell you anything about Mr Kim! I suggest you ask him what he thinks we were.”

“What the hell, Jimin? How could you be so reckless?” The leader sat everyone down. It was time for a long awaited family meeting.

“Showing up at her house? What were you thinking? She could terminate our contract because of this!”

Jimin sat there, anger bubbling up inside him, ready to burst. Especially when Jin’s eyes go wide, hearing about what he did.

“Y-you talked to her? What did she say?” Jin questioned.

That was his last straw.

“She didn’t say a thing! Is she covering for you? I don’t get it!” He stood up, Taehyung trying to keep him from going over to Jin. He’s clearly upset. “What is it that you’re scared she’ll say? What is she to you?”

Jungkook hesitantly raised his hand. “I wanna know too– ow! What the hell, hyung?” Yoongi plucked the back of his head.

“I’m serious! Jin hasn’t even been able to focus since seeing her. She must be important.”

“Fine”, Jin whispered, although he wished he didn’t.

“Fine, what?”

“I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you who she is.”

[local-dragonfly]

🍰 💖💭!

🍰 Name one of your fave comfort fics (doesn’t have to be your all time fave).

oough. of yours it is likely strange house we must keep and fill. love love love that fic u know how i am abt haunted houses. u have made me a secondhand blaseball fan. hmm. in terms of other fic i havent read any for a While but there was a period of my life where i rotated between a couple danger days fanfics every night like bedtime stories. in terms of regular books most of my comfort books r things i read when i was liddle, so calvin & hobbes or percy jackson. ive been wanting to reread miss peregrine’s recently too!!

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

i like that you can tell i also write poetry! everything ive written lately ive used verbal shortcuts and a couple odd descriptors and so it reads a bit strangely, u can tell im more used to poetry! makes it a fun read and i rlly like that ive developed a voice in writing that much! it even happens in nonfiction writing which is super cool i think

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

hmmm. ive never published any of my work besides some of my poetry because that takes an astonishing amt of bravery but!! all my buildings r alive. every single one. also in danger days the girls cat is solarpowered. this question is surprisingly difficult. ive got this haunted house story thats a wip and i didnt set out to make it abt cannibalism but thats what happened. that story is very slow going but i think that the house is less innocent than it pretends to be. i think it has some power over the ghosts it keeps as well. i love a house with a stomach.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part One

Nessian Modern AU

Summary: Nesta Archeron isn't good with change. When her car breaks down in the middle of a storm and her sister sends one of her friends to pick her up, Nesta thinks there could be nothing worse than having to spend the night with a total stranger. Until she suddenly finds herself without an apartment. Despite only a night of knowing Nesta, Cassian is quick to offer her a room in his cabin free of charge, and Nesta, broke and without many social contacts, has no choice but to accept.

A/N: This fic is loosely inspired by @lady-therion 's fic Close Quarters. I couldn't stop thinking about Nesta and Cassian sitting in front of a fire, slowly getting to know each other, so this fic is a whole lot of that :) There's no strict plot structure to this so I'm not sure how long it's gonna be, but expect warm and fuzzy content in the beginning. Enjoy!

Masterlist

***

Cassian is in bed when he gets the text.

Feyre: hey i know it's late but i need you to do a huuuge favor for me

Feyre: i really hope you're not asleep yet

Cassian furrows his brows in concern, immediately thumbing back a text.

Cass: what's wrong?

Feyre takes a long minute to type back; wind howls and rain thrashes against his window while he waits. A long message finally appears.

Feyre: you know the shortcut through the woods off of main st? my sister's car broke down there and there's no 24/7 towing around. im all the way in velaris and won't be able to get there for another two hours, but i dont want her waiting in the woods in the middle of the night like murder bait. she's too proud to ask for help, but if you could go and pick her up that would mean a lot to me, please.

At the last sentence, Cassian immediately knows which sister Feyre is talking about. He glances out his window and curses under his breath. It's storming hell outside, and Nesta Archeron is sitting in a broken car in the middle of the woods somewhere.

He's already grabbed his keys and stuffed his feet into shoes when he realizes he never answered Feyre's text. He types out a short on my way and heads out the front door of the cabin, assaulted by rain and wind before he's even fully outside.

Cassian follows the location Feyre sends him, what should be a five minute drive taking almost fifteen in the storm.

Cassian has interacted with the oldest Archeron sister maybe twice in his three years of knowing Feyre. Once for an initial family meeting, where she gave a terse hello upon introduction to Cassian and his friends, before ignoring everybody for the rest of the dinner, and another time when he accidentally bumped into her as she was leaving Feyre's apartment. He remembers apologizing profusely, only to be given a weird look before she turned and left.

In summary, Cassian knows enough about Nesta to know that this won't be the most fun task he's ever been given. Still, he isn’t about to leave any woman rotting on the side of an empty road at this hour, in this weather.

There’s so much rain that he almost misses the car. His headlights catch on a lump of metal, and he slowly brings the truck to a stop. Throwing the gear in park, Cassian flips his hood over his head and runs out into the rain.

She’s already waiting for him when he reaches the car, standing in the freezing rain in nothing but a drenched sweater and jeans.

His first real words to Nesta Archeron come out surprisingly easy: “What the hell are you doing here?” he yells over the torrent.

“Making sure you could see me,” she shouts back. “You drive like a blind dog!”

Whatever Cassian says back gets lost in the rain, but soon he's ushering Nesta over to his truck and slamming the passenger door shut behind her. He returns to the driver's seat, Nesta audibly shuddering beside him.

He flips the air vents blowing hot air towards her. “You should’ve stayed in the car.”

Even soaked and freezing, Nesta summons up the energy to glare. “So you could run me over with your truck? No, thanks.”

“That’s an overreaction.”

Nesta doesn’t bother to reply. Silence fills the truck for a couple of minutes as Cassian tries to maneuver them out of the small backroad, carefully turning back for his cabin. There’s no way he can get Nesta back to her place tonight, and he suspects his phone notifications are already full of flash flood warnings.

Finally, he says, “I’m Cassian, by the way.”

Nesta looks at him like he’s stupid. “I know who you are.”

That takes him a little by surprise, but he only murmurs, “Okay, then.” He wonders how much Feyre told her sister about how this was going to go.

“We’re getting my car picked up first thing tomorrow,” Nesta says into the silence, “and Feyre will take me home so you don’t have to bother yourself.”

“It’s not a bother,” he responds a little too quickly. She only gives him another weird look, like she’s judging him to hell and back, and Cassian decides to quit speaking forever.

By the grace of some higher power, the drive back is faster than the drive to. The pounding of rain only gets heavier as Cassian pulls up to the house, until it becomes an unmistakable thunk. Nesta’s eyes shoot to the roof of the car. “What’s that,” she says sharply. Everything she says is sharp; he wonders if she does it consciously or not.

Another thunk hits the car, this time the windshield. Cassian sighs deeply at the ice assaulting the truck from all sides. “Hail,” he says, resigned with this whole night.

He and Nesta end up making another mad dash to the door, trying not to get hit by increasingly larger chunks of ice as they go. Nesta has a backpack that she holds close to her chest instead of using for protection from the hail, as if it’s a baby.

Once safely inside the cabin, she doesn’t let go of her grip on her bag as she looks around his home. “Nice place,” she breathes, eyeing the exposed wooden beams and towering glass windows. An iron-wrought chandelier lights up the main living area they’re in, lightning occasionally casting twisted shadows across the walls.

Cassian almost apologizes for it, before deciding that apologizing for having too nice of a house is one of those things that would earn him another weird look from Nesta. “Bathrooms are that way,” he says instead, pointing down the main hall. “I can get you some dry clothes…”

She’s already nodding sharply and heading for the bathroom, leaving Cassian to stand awkwardly in the entryway, soaked to the bone in the same sweats he was about to go to sleep in just an hour ago.

Upstairs, after changing into blissfully dry clothes, it takes Cassian a good five minutes to decide which of his shirts will work best for Nesta’s slim figure.

When he finally returns downstairs with sweats four times Nesta’s size, she snatches them out of his hands without a word and slams the bathroom door shut on his face. He stands there a moment longer, nods resolutely, and heads for the kitchen to whip up a hot beverage. Cassian has a feeling he won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

A couple of minutes later, Nesta appears in the kitchen doorway, looking hesitant and absolutely dwarfed in Cassian’s gray sweats. Somehow, she’s made the pants work, likely by rolling them up a hundred times.

Cassian’s eyes widen for a moment, realizing this is the longest look he’s gotten at Nesta since… well, since he first met her.

He remembers thinking she was stunning at that initial dinner at Feyre’s house all those years ago, but damn, he must have forgotten just how much. Because even messy and rumpled, Cassian can’t stop staring at her.

Nesta breaks the silence first. “Is that hot chocolate?” The hard edge has mostly left her voice, like the warm clothes have soothed her frayed nerves from the car ride.

“Um.” Cassian glances down at the steaming mug in his hands. “Yeah. You want some?” he offers before he can check himself.

Nesta further surprises him by nodding, tucking her sweater paws under her armpits. The position would look vulnerable and reserved on most people, but on her it’s just another fortification to her stiff demeanor. Cassian slides his mug over the marble island to her before starting on another drink for himself.

Feeling an urge to fill the silence while he works, Cassian babbles, “The guest rooms are upstairs. You can have your choice, but the master bedroom is mine, obviously.” He pours melted chocolate into a mug and grabs for cinnamon.

Nesta watches him move with her unnerving hawk eyes and nods slowly, taking careful sips from her mug. “I think I’m going to stay up and study for my midterms,” she finally responds. “You mind if I use your fancy living room?”

Cassian almost smiles at that. “The whole house is fancy,” he says. “But yeah, go for it.”

He’s surprised at how nice this feels. Not that having Feyre’s scary older sister over isn’t weird for him, but… having another presence in the cabin, especially at this late hour— it’s warm where Cassian’s nights are usually cold.

***

It’s past two in the morning when Nesta finally glances up from her laptop screen, eyes bleary and unable to take in another word of theoretical law. She’s rubbing her hands down her face when a sudden clap of thunder booms outside the cabin windows, making her nearly fall off the couch. “Christ,” she swears, unconsciously curling into herself.

“Scared of thunder?”

Nesta internalizes her surprise at the unexpected voice and glances up to see Cassian coming down the stairs, looking as awake as he did when he went to bed over an hour ago. Nesta becomes terribly aware of the state she’s in and has to fight to maintain her composure.

She peeled off Cassian’s oversized sweatpants as soon as he went upstairs, not having been able to take a step without almost tripping, and made up for the coldness of her bare legs by dragging the fur throw off the back of his leather couch and using it as a blanket.

“That's usually for decoration, you know.” Cassian gestures at the thick fur.

Embarrassment claws up her throat, for coming into this strange man’s house and taking his nice things and using them incorrectly. Her first instinct is to apologize, but the only thing she hates more than embarrassment is the word sorry. “I thought you were asleep,” she says instead.

Cassian only shakes his head as he takes a seat on the far end of the couch. “Sleep and I aren't friends tonight. I was thinking about watching a movie, but if you're still studying—”

Nesta quickly shuts her laptop, shaking her head. “I was just about to go upstairs,” she says, packing her things into her backpack. Despite the day she’s had and how heavy her eyelids are, she knows she won’t be able to sleep with the sporadic thunder still booming. She wants to ask Cassian if he has noise-canceling earplugs, but the last thing she wants is to inconvenience him further.

The fur throw slips off her as she stands, revealing her bare legs. She might be wearing the largest, least sexy sweater of all time, so she doesn’t know why she suddenly feels naked in front of Cassian. Risking a glance at the man himself, he only takes his eyes off the TV remote in his hand to say, “You can leave the pants behind if you don’t need them.”

Right. She neatly folded his sweats as soon as she took them off earlier, and now they sit patiently on the coffee table.

“It gets a little drafty at night,” Cassian adds, “but I stocked your room with blankets. It’s the second door on the left; I hope you don’t mind that I chose for you.”

Nesta distantly remembers him saying she could have her pick of bedroom. “I don’t care,” she says honestly. “But— thanks.” She clasps her bag to her chest and shuffles towards the stairs, only stopping at the foot of them when she remembers not to be rude. “Goodnight,” she calls out awkwardly, trying not to race up the stairs as she hears him say goodnight back.

Cassian’s cabin is without a doubt gorgeous, but Nesta still feels a little shock of surprise when she finds her designated room. Decked out with a four-poster bed and floor-to-ceiling windows, it’s nicer than any place Nesta’s ever stayed in before.

A bright flash of lightning fills the room, and Nesta’s shoulders immediately bunch up to her ears— the preparation doesn’t make the ensuing clap of thunder any less heart-thumping. Withholding a weary sigh, she moves to draw the thick curtains over the windows, hoping to add a barrier between herself and the storm. It’s going to be a long night.

***

The next morning, Nesta dials Feyre’s number for the third time, growing more irritated by the second. It’s eight a.m., but Feyre is supposed to be picking Nesta up before noon so she can take her car in and return home to her shitty basement apartment.

Finally, the line clicks. “Hello?” a groggy voice drawls over the phone.

“When are you coming?” Nesta demands.

“Uh, what?” Feyre still sounds like she’s waking up. Nesta could hiss.

“You promised you’d be here first thing today, Feyre. I can’t hang around at your friend’s place all day. I want to wear my own clothes and use my own toothbrush.”

“Oh, that,” Feyre says. “Listen, can you just have Cassian take you home?”

“Feyre—”

“I know you hate interacting with strangers, but he’s one of my best friends. It’s a two-hour drive up to the mountains, Nesta,” she speaks as if she’s trying to reason with a kindergartener.

Frustration boils up in Nesta, feelings that she’s in too much disbelief to put words to right now. Her jaw works, and all she ends up spitting is, “You promised.”

“You’re being dramatic. I’m going back to sleep now, call me when you get home safe.” Over the line, Nesta can hear mumbling— probably Feyre’s boyfriend waking up.

Nesta has to hang up before she says something she’ll be made to regret. Her fingers are bone-white around her phone, and she releases a restrained shriek before flinging her phone at the bed.

Still pissed but just a little mollified after the release of energy, Nesta takes a deep breath and heads downstairs to get breakfast.

Cassian is in the kitchen when she enters, sipping from a cup of coffee and watching another one brew in the coffee maker. His eyes are ringed with tired circles, proving he got about as much sleep as Nesta did the night before, but he seems content. She doesn’t miss his quick glance at her still-bare legs before his eyes flick up to her. “Good morning,” he offers with a quiet smile.

Nesta didn’t know Cassian was capable of such quietness— it’s a stark difference from how he is with Feyre and his friends, and maybe the nicest surprise she’s received since this shitty weekend began.

She cuts straight to it. “Feyre’s not coming,” she says, trying to gauge how he’ll react to this new inconvenience. “She told me to let you take me home.”

“I know,” is all Cassian says. His brow furrows when he sees her obvious disappointment. “She called me last night. Didn’t she tell you?”

Nesta’s hands curl under the long sleeves of Cassian’s sweatshirt, but she only shakes her head once. She’s distantly aware that she’s overreacting about a simple car ride, but nothing can take away her discomfort at asking favors from people she barely knows.

Not knowing how to continue the conversation, she says stiffly, “I want to wear my own clothes again.” Is that a good addition to the discussion? She genuinely can’t remember the last time she interacted with a man for non-work related purposes.

Cassian’s eyes light up and he sets down his coffee. “That reminds me, I put your clothes through the laundry this morning. They might still be warm from the dryer.”

Nesta wants to sag in relief at the first good news she’s gotten all morning. She follows Cassian’s directions to the laundry room and almost hugs her neatly folded clothes. While she changes into her clothes from the night before, she makes a list of today’s activities in her head:

1) Eat breakfast. Keep it quick and keep interactions with Cassian to a minimum, but don’t seem ungrateful.

2) Drive to her ancient rustbucket of a car. Make sure it’s okay after the hail and call the towing company.

3) Let Cassian drop her home.

4) Return to her room and not leave for a week.

Nesta sighs as her blue sweater settles around her frame. Only four tasks; it’s achievable enough.

Her first task is relatively easy. She wishes Cassian wouldn’t talk so much, because sometimes she doesn’t know what to say in return, but she also finds that she likes what she has to say. His opinion on the horror movie he watched last night doesn’t make her want to crawl out of the nearest window.

Cassian keeps breakfast short and gets them in the car by nine. It’s only after they’ve dialed a tow truck and Cassian kindly withholds judgment at Nesta’s faded blue lump of metal she calls a car that she gets the call.

It’s from her tenant, or rather, the nice elderly lady who lets Nesta live in her basement-turned-apartment.

“Lorene?” Nesta answers, confused.

“Oh, hun,” the woman answers, and from the sympathy in her voice, Nesta tenses up. “I headed downstairs this morning to check for mold and the rain...the whole basement’s flooded. There must have been a leak or something wrong with the entrance door, but I tried to grab as many of your things before I left.”

Nesta closes her eyes. Presses a forceful hand to her chest and tries to take calming breaths. “O-okay,” she says. “What does that mean, what do I do next?”

Cassian gives her a concerned look from where he leans against his truck. She ignores him.

“I’m getting the basement cleaned out and fixed as soon as I can, but the water damage looks pretty bad. The floors are probably gonna have to be replaced, and I don't know if insurance will cover this.”

She thinks of all her books and valuables in that apartment, taken out by the storm last night.

“You're going to have to find a new place to stay, hun. Most likely for a while.”

Nesta is on the verge of full-out panicking, but the last thing she needs is to have a breakdown in front of Feyre’s best friend. She clenches her fist so hard it hurts, and the bite of her nails takes away the sharp edge of her panic.

She breathes deep, but finally says, “I can do that.” She doesn't know if she can.

After a few more apologies from Lorene, Nesta finally hangs up, only to turn and brace her hands against the roof of her car.

“Everything alright?” Cassian asks slowly.

She needs a place to stay. Her mind works rapidly, going through the short, short list of people she might be able to ask for a bed to sleep on. Coming up empty, she moves on to the next option: motels.

Does she even have the money—?

“Nesta?” Cassian repeats. “What's going on?”

“I’m fine,” she says out loud, still not facing him. “I just need to break the bank a little and find a new place to stay, but it’ll be fine.”

“Find a new place to stay? What do you mean?” A light hand touches her elbow, and she whirls around in alarm. Cassian holds his hands up in placation. “Sorry, sorry,” he says.

Red-hot embarrassment creeps up Nesta’s cheeks. She’s losing it in front of this completely nice stranger—

She reins herself in, tries to remember things like common sense and social etiquette. “It’s okay,” she breathes out. “It’s really nothing. My apartment got flooded during the storm and I need to find a place to stay, and I’m upset, but I’ll get over it.” She nods resolutely, like the grown adult she is. Like she can afford to fix her car and pay for lodging at the same time.

Cassian considers her silently for a long moment, and Nesta thinks he must still be freaked out by her near-breakdown, when he finally says, “Well, you can always stay at my place.”

Her eyes might pop out of her head. “What? No. No.”

“Why not?” He turns hesitant. “Unless you have somewhere else to stay?”

Nesta’s silence is answer enough. She sees his gaze flip from questioning to determined and rushes to change his mind. “I won’t do that to you— I hate asking for favors and I hate making people go out of their way for me even more.” She sounds so forceful it comes off as harsh, which is all the better for convincing Cassian not to make her stay at his cabin.

“I have a feeling you hate a lot of things, Nesta.” He doesn’t back down. “You’re Feyre’s sister; the least I can offer you is free lodging.” After a moment, he adds, “Please.”

Nesta wants to laugh; he’s pleading with her to let her invade his home life. All because she’s Feyre’s sister. The reasoning leaves a bitter taste in her throat, but she doesn’t have the energy to argue with it. Not as the tow truck finally appears at the end of the road, driving up towards them. Cassian only looks at her. Decide now, he says silently.

Nesta exhales deeply through her nose. “Fine,” she grits. So much for getting through the day with her sanity unscathed.

***

Part Two

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla

[voidcat]

– a case of bad luck

2. a deal (with the devil)

m.list ; prev ; next ; wc: 2.1k

a/n: society if i could w r i t e,,, anwyays i feel im making mafia dazai ooc? i hope not, ive just began the light novels dsfdg uh yea i'll probs update once a week (depends on how often i can write)

Insisting he leaves you off at the station, you let out a breath of relief for the first time in hours. Unsure he may still be following, you change directions few times, walk fast and use shortcuts only locals of the neighbourhoods know to get him off your track. Just in case.

The next day he doesn’t show up, neither does he the day after. Not knowing how to feel or what to think about this, because there is no way he will let you slide off this easily, you do your best to resist the relief.

And soon later, it blurs back in your head, like smoke dissolving, like a bad dream.

But the unease never leaves. Neither does the feeling of being watched.

Then one lunch break, your eyes get fixed on a spot by the sidewalk and you can swear it’s the same clothes, the bandages, the posture and the look and everything crashes down back on you again. You do your best to linger and change directions as many times as you can on the way home that evening. Nothing goes wrong that night, or the day after or the day after that. If the false of sense peace were to go for few more days, you think you’ll forget all that happened again, too focused on school or whatever your friends recently bringing up.

A bell to mark the school hours ending, walking outside, caught up in whatever you’re discussing and he just stands there, like it’s nothing, like he belongs to his peer group, missing some of the bandages you saw on his face before, clothes not sticking out like you thought they would.

He stands there and smiles your way.

You think, you’ve never wanted to punch someone in your life as you do in this very moment. Just to erase that smile off his face.

In your view, he only gets bigger with each step, the flock of students you’re stuck in only walking towards where he waits and you look around for a way to sneak out but nada! Nothing! And your friends have grown suspiciously quieter than the usual. Stealing glances from one another and from you, the snicker like they’re sharing this little surprise for you.

Shorter than calculated, you find yourself standing right in front of him.

No words on his end and the expecting looks on you make the air tense.

“Hi… Dazai!” You say at one point, fake enthusiasm clear, not that they seem to mind nor realize. “What brings you here?”

“I was just in the city as you see. And decided, what better time to surprise an old friend than now?” The smile vanishes for a moment, the forced school play act making you want to roll your eyes but he puts a hand on your shoulder suddenly, you wince and shake his hand off, and he continues. “So, have you got the time to show me around and catch up?”

“Do I have a choice?” Followed by a dry laugh, you look back to your friends who only seem satisfied, makes you wonder what kind of lie he sold before he got here. His smile grows wider in reply.

You sigh and start to walk by his side, taking a step a second later than him to keep a distance and to see where you’re headed.

“What did you tell them exactly?” your curiosity takes the best of you as you reach a traffic light.

A little ‘huh?’ coming from him, he turns back to glance at you, the sun behind his head makes his height apparent. The short lived look of asking he gives you dies as he tilts his head “I only told them a cliché story, assumed they’d fall for cheesy scenarios such as that.”

Red turns green.

You take a step by his side, no more following behind. “Which is?..”

“That we were old friends with a shared history of potential intimacy and I wanted to take you out now that we are back together again!” He says it like it’s so usual.

The two of you reach the pavement and continue to walk, never faltering.

Letting your eyes linger on him for a while, you turn your gaze back on the streets as the sense of familiarity begins to vanish. “I didn’t take you for the romcom type.” You say at last as you stop.

“I’m not.” He doesn’t spare a glance this time. “I just know someone who likes them.”

The number of people around decrease with each step, the air gets colder –maybe it’s your nerves. The light starts to fade and not a word has been spoken for quite some time. Not that either of you were dying for some get-to-one-another.

When he speaks again, you don’t hear it at first. “Your ability-”

You halt with a stomp of your foot. “I don’t have one.”

He narrows his eyes in annoyance, “Your ability must be based on some form of speech, as Akutagawa served a good example that night.”

The name barely rings a bell in your memory.

“Question is, what kind of speech it requires? Does it rhyme, should commands work, shall it be sang, like a siren?”

“These are all excellent questions, except for one big missing piece…” you answer. The mention of something missing seems to get his attention. “…That I do not have an ability.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he huffs, the ever growing annoyance levels can tell alone you’re pushing the little bit of luck you have.

“Then how did Akutagawa pass out exactly?” hands back under his coat.

“There was blood on him? Maybe he’s sick? He definitely looked the part.” You say as more of a suggestion than an answer.

“The men inside the building. The one with his internal organs out.” Words get colder with each breathe.

Yours fade as his grow colder, “Maybe the other captured guy did it?”

“You don’t sound sure, weren’t you right next to him?” suspicion of a knowing parent hinted in his voice almost, he already must’ve figured it all out that night.

“I…” the pavement looks gray, stones crooked, countless fights must’ve gone through here before.

“I don’t know.” From the edge that connects the floor to the walls, you try inspecting each dull color behind the lifeless filter, not acknowledging him standing there doesn’t feel any safer but it’s preferable to those eyes.

His lips don’t move but the ‘You don’t know?’ is heavy in the air.

“I don’t know! I don’t remember!” someone’s yelling reaches your ears. “I just!-“

The yelling was yours, your arms fall back, go back up and you hold yourself, “I was… singing? To calm down… And the rest is just a blur.”

When you look up, he looks as disinterested. You consider yelling, asking for an explanation, what he’s thinking; it’s not that hard to piece it all, you think, but this demeanor rubs you the wrong way. The longer the silence goes, the eerier it becomes, the emptiness of the alley you’re standing in stands out. The lack of people, noise, light, it’d almost crash down on you if it wasn’t soin the open ever since he showed up.

“The words you spoke to Akutagawa. Are they from a song?”

“The ‘go to sleep’ you mean?” you finger quote the lyric, “it’s from Beach Life In-“ you stop with a shake of your head, “it’s from a song, yes.”

When you look again, it feels like an adult waiting for a child to connect the dots in front of them, like you’re the only one in the world who hasn’t figured it out already.

“But it makes no sense.” Hands on hips, eyes focused on a pebble near your foot, “I mean- it’s not like I haven’t sung before?” You turn then, start to pace, a hand on your forehead to push back the few strands brushing against your forehead.

It starts to warm up, or feels like it, each strand of hair just there, existing, leaving its weight on you, tickling, annoying, bothering; suffocating-

He cannot be right, can he?

Sure, self-awareness can change for each person but something so important as an ability shouldn’t be missed that easily… being a stranger to yourself when a stranger figured it out in mere seconds- it’s ridiculous, it simply doesn’t make sense, he must be wrong or confuse you with someone else, how can it be that bad, how can my perception be that bad, what else did I miss if all this is true and happening-

“Despite how the Port Mafia appears,” his voice pulls you out of your head, “ability users is not such a common occurrence. And surely the ability to affect your surroundings, or make people act certain ways is one we cannot let go of.”

I should drink some water, a part of you says when you gulp at his implications, ‘we cannot let go’ just gets out of his mouth and stays right in front of you, in bold jet black letters.

“What you should ask yourself is if you felt anything during all these times of singing…” silence feels enough of an answer, hyped up or not there isn’t much to feel, much to wish for. “Or if the words you snag back then were for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” “What did you feel that night?”

“Typical fight or flight response? Adrenaline, instinct to survive?”

“Stop assuming and start being more confident.” (like that night) a part of you yells, in his voice, though his is devoid of any emotion. You don’t want to learn how he sounds when he yells.

“I wanted to get out.” You try again. “Not to survive but to avoid death or whatever was awaiting me until that.” Sounds more like you, you straighten your back. “I didn’t want to stay any longer to see what they’d do to me so I found a way out.” He almost seems pleasant to hear the change in you, maybe it’s time to surprise him a little more.

“So let’s say,” you start pacing again, less like rambling and more like an animal circling, not a prey but a threat, because that’s what he is, what he has been and will be, “that I have an ability that I can use only when my emotional capacity is at a certain level… why would a mafia executive want me to have a better understanding of it?”

The radius decreasing with each step, you end your steps right in front of his face “what makes you think I won’t use it, right now, on you?” each pause between the words to make it clear this is a threat, no more of the power balance he held over you for too long. Your back to the beginning of the alley, you’re ready, in case he is one of them –if not, he might still have a gun.

He doesn’t falter, not a hair on him moves. Until he chuckles, at you and your words.

The vibration in his voice, nor the laughter reach his eyes.

“There are quite a few reasons why this won’t do, like how you cannot use it.”

The confidence in his voice makes the truth more unbearable.

“And besides, even if you managed to use it, it wouldn’t take me long to stop you.”

“Are you that fast?”

“Are you?”

This marks the end of it, as much as it pains to admit he is right, a part of you doesn’t want it, doesn’t feel the same sense of danger and survival to run away.

And regardless of all the threat he possesses, he doesn’t seem all too willing to get rid of you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn and walk away to the blinking store lights from the street. A second set of footsteps catch up to you in few long strides.

“So what is this then? You’re going to help me use my ability and leave me in debt?” reaching the traffic lights, you step onto the road without batting an eye.

“Why would I agree to something like that?” the car drives by, almost brushing your back. The sun has begun to set already, the colors mixing together.

The wind carries away his words but you catch them just in time: “You have a family and a cat, don’t you?”

You stop and look up. “Not a cloud in sight. Was it a sign of a rainy day to follow?” ignore the implications, don’t think about the faces. “A cloudy day perhaps, I always mix up the tells of the sky.”

“I’ll be around.” And he leaves with that.

[urlocalbunny]

Ok angst time... Headcanons for if the baby was lost half way thou... ( im SO sorry )

Aaron:

the way of guessing your feelings through his nose was just terrible right now. He could see you were disraught. broken. in pain. when your hands, weak, reached out for him for a hug sometimes, it felt like you’d break and drift away if he didn’t hold you together. His eyes were almost always watery for a few weeks.

he’d be silent. distant from the other things he loved for a while. if he ever talked, was to reassure you you’d work this out. He’d cry very often when you slept. Your face was sad even when you were many hours in.

He’d have taken down the room carefully after a while, but when he opened the door, he saw you holding the little deer plushie you put in the bed. you held your now back to normal belly, and you’d apologize to your baby and to him many times. He was shocked to know you thougth that was your fault to begin with. 

he was absolutely heartbroken to the point where Beliath would always wear a sad frown every time they were in the same room. The vampires would comfort him, but nothing seemed to move when you were so sad. Your kid was going to be the bravest person he ever met. he was sure. They must have had a big fight before the end. 

Seeing him not leaving through night and day made you wonder how it was possible when you failed. one day, however, you heard a howl on your window. it was a full moon, so whatever you thought you were doing, Aaron would not approve. But you opened the window. He was there, but there was nothing but disconnected toughts. That was the wolf.

He was standing in an elegant stance. He was quietly looking at her in the eyes. “How did you get in here? This is really high!” You asked, still wary until you felt soft fur on your belly. He had his eyes closed, you could feel when your hands held his head on instinct. He still thought of nothing. Your arms circled his head. instead of feeling sad, a spark of joy bloomed in you. There were no parts in your beloved that hated you, even the ones he didn’t control. He jumped up and down, shaking his head and jumping on the floor, calling you to run with him. You ran out of the manor under the boys’ curious gazes and you ran. He circled around you, slowing down to match your pace. Your joyful laugh reached every pair of ears in the manor.

Raphael:

In times like these, he wished he could draw. But he also felt completely good being blind for the first time in his life. ,

Your screams full of horror, Ethan’s despair in the air and the smell of blood stained his mind. He closed his eyes in a silent plead. “If something miraculous happens and I recover, do not let me see.”��

You were quiet in the next few days. He waited for you to talk, but you’d open your mouth and try to say something, but your breath was ragged, as if you were suffocating. He felt your gaze on him the whole time.

one day, even if it took all of his strength, he sat on your side and tought of words. But they also wouldn’t do. The best, most beautiful thing he could ever say was something his friend Aaron would. With no shortcuts, but with no curves either.

“Do you, perhaps, think this is your fault?” his tone was stern, but you had to get a earful. “The way you don’t answer me is honestly worrisome. You have to stop thinking about me right now if you ever want to make amends with yourself. The reason why i was so happy was because i love you with all my might. I woudl not have it like this with anybody else.” your arms circled his waist. This time, he caught you. 

Your cries were, this time, full of relief. He hummed a song to you. It was a happy lullaby. his lips were faintly on your temple. You would get through this.

Beliath:

Your baby’s presence was the first thing he missed this morning. you were crying in disbelief. 

He didn’t even remember shoving Ethan into the room, but he did. His hand went to his head and he breathed in and out. He has never grieved before. Never.

When Ethan left, he held your hand and face. “Don’t you think about saying you’re sorry.” your eyes widened. “I’m not leaving your side.”

He did what he said. He was heartbroken in ways he’s never experienced before without you, but he would manage for you. For the both of you.

The months run cold and slow without your heart-warming shrieks when you saw tiny gloves and hats or when you finished putting up the crib, but your face looks a little more colorful again. 

He haven’t partied in months and he doesn’t want to, but he comes up with a small and calm gathering of people you both know and cherish. You smile when you see how different it is from the usual. When you accept his hand and swing slowly into the song he let Vladimir of all people choose, he lets out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding.

He could finally see your face without the fog again. You didn’t stop smiling. He shed a tear that you caught in your hands.

Vladimir.

It was his fault. He was sure for months. Maybe because he wasn’t good to you? Loving enough? Supportive enough? He was devastated. But the feeling that lingered was because he was ill. He was weak and he passed this to your baby. Your precious baby was dead, and it was him.

When he shared this with you, he expected everything but you raising your hand to slap him and then turning around to stop yourself. He put a hand on his face in shock even if you didn’t hit him. Was he that repulsive to you?

You grabbed his hands like he was a tiny kid, and proceeded to scold him for thinking it was his fault. You said you’ve never seen somebody talk such bullshit and he had to keep himself in check. That was harsh, but he realized you were telling the truth and that’s what hurt the most.

He had to man up and help you overcome this. No more temper trantrums, no more talking ill of himself when it came to the baby. That was disrespectful. How to cheer you up? How to make you realize you’re more than this situation? 

He took you to the garden one day. You didn’t understand at first, but he put a seed on your hand. a cyclamen. Your eyes looked for his, but he was hiding his blush.

“My mother taught me how to do this. I think we should do it together from now on, since she can not teach you mother to mother...” 

Your sudden hug was strong. Your tears were warm on the crook of his neck. But your smile was what made him tear up too. Finally. Finally, you were coming back home.

Ethan: 

Your wet hand full of blood woke him up. He was in shock when he realized you baby was gone. Just when he started to lose the fear. Just when he started to have wishful thinking every single hour of the day. It was just his luck, to see your horrified face, to see you asking if your baby wouldn’t open their eyes. 

He did everything in his power to make your body recover, but the thing he worried the most about was your heart. His hugs lingered, his face scrunched up but he didn’t cry. There was no way he could ever make you overcome this. He was useless.

Beliath knocked some sense in his head after he tried to give you some space one day. He was drinking like crazy and Beliath knocked his cup off. He said he had to be by your side. To stop worrying about himself because it didn’t matter how useless he tough he was, you loved him and he was the only one you had right now.

The other night, he opened the door to his room with you, hand-in-hand. You both sat down and he looked into your eyes after a long time. “I felt guilty and ashamed of me. I’m sorry for not being able to help you as much as I could but I promise I’m never leaving you alone to bear with it again. This is our baby. We will get through this together or we won’t overcome this at all.”

The kiss you shared was salty and soft. He realized you didn’t kiss in a long time. But he was about to change that. He was going to cherish you, and live. Live to show you how much he loved you and your baby, no matter what happened in his past.

Ivan:

Surprisingly, one of the most serious on how he’d deal with it. He’d lost everything once and he was not surprised. He cared about you. 

He would get whatever you needed. You’d be able to vent to him and he wouldn’t show how heartbroken he was, but you knew he’d cry at night.

The both of you would be steady on helping each other out and supporting yourselves. You’re both young and this is taking a toll on you.

The vampires wouold help you out and take you guys places, undo the room for you when you’re ready. 

Aaron is also in need of care. He was going to be the godfather... He’s going to be your biggest supporter.

Ivan would actually encourage you to go see the doctors. Even if it was dangerous, you’d find out what was the problem and you could always pretend. You’ feel reassured, and squeeze his hand. Your sweet I love you was all he needed to be sure of your recovery. You’d be fine as long as you were together.

[angstalottle]

Lana On The Case

Part 3

Lana knew she shouldn’t have been expecting much, especially after spending the last week lying in bed stewing in her own filth and misery.

That didn’t change the fact that her current appearance still shocked her.

Her skin had gained an ashen quality about it and dark circles under her eyes.

She was sure is Red hadn’t practically force fed her she was have lost much more weight then she already had.

She felt drained and heavy, like her life was sucked out from her when Hannah left her…

Keith showing up had given her a small glimmer of excitement perhaps even hope but as soon as he was gone and she was left alone to her thoughts they turned right back to the fact that her best friend was gone from her life forever.

That thought hurt even more than knowing her sweet wonderful Hannah killed people.

Job offer or not Lana likely would have spent the rest of her life lying in her bed if her aunties hadn’t decided to do something about it.

One moment she's dozing staring into space, the next Blue has pulled her covers away while Re dumped a bucket of warm soapy water over her.

The two manhandled her out of bed and into some clean clothes before giving her two options.

One was to stay cooped up inside and suffer through them inviting every nosey friend they could think of over to omard her with questions and pinched cheeks followed by of course the dreaded relationship advice that everyone over a certain age believed they knew.

Or go down to the police station and actually do something with her life/

Though neither option was particularly fun in the end Lana chose to go out mainly because Red had also made a swinging joke which of course practically sent her bolting through the door.

The police station like everything else in the village was only a short walk away from the Altea estate, you could get pretty much anywhere by cutting through the large gardens that have unfortunately fallen into a state of disrepair.

The lady of the manor had died when Lana was away and since then the place hadn’t been the same, like some of the beauty of the world left when she did.

As far as she knew the only daughter of the family Allura was away for school or something while her father worked in London.

Lana had fond memories of Allura, being a few years younger then the girl and quite a bit poorer, she always seemed like this fairy princess that could have anything or do anything.

Looks like not even princesses could escape tragedy.

Lana hiked up her skirt as she climbed over the thick mess of weeds and flowers careful not to disturb anything as she passed through.

Even if everyone took the shortcut it was an unsaid rule that you were not to disturb the gardens or ever go close to the house.

Of course when Lance got her foot caught in a bramble and fell face first into the ground she broke that rule by flattening at least a dozen flowers beneath her.

“Oh dear are you alright?” A woman wearing a veil and long white gloves asked as she hurried over from the main house.

Odd appearance aside what really caught Lana’s attention was her snow white hair. A characteristic that was common amongst the Altean family.

Going off her build she could have been anywhere between 20-30 but without the face or hands it really was impossible to tell.

Lana felt her cheeks burn as she pulled herself up and dusted herself down frowning at the rip that now worked its way up her blue skirt.

The woman put her hands on her dress and examined the rip tutting softly “we really must get the gardener back in this place really has fallen to ruin.”

Now that she was closer Lana could smell the sweet scent of roses coming off her in such a large volume it would almost be suffocating if they weren't outside.

“Do you work here?” Lana asked trying to swallow her embarrassment while this strange woman kept hold of her skirt.

One strong breeze and she would see next weeks washing.

The woman chuckled “not exactly. I used to live here I never actually planned on returning but in light of my father's disappearance I suppose I didn’t have much choice.”

Lana couldn’t help but flinch, since what Hannah did came to light any case of men running off in the middle of the night or simply not returning after a day out is now considered suspect.

Their still digging up all the bodies and people have been flocking from all over in search of their missing husbands, fathers and brothers.

Lana then realised something very important.

Mainly that if Alfor was missing and this woman was his daughter then it must have been Allura!

“Allura?”

Lana couldn’t see her face but she imagined a smile on those pretty pink painted lips she used to know very well.

“That’s me, im sorry but who are you?”

Lana had her suspicions of course that this was all a scam, someone swooping in to steal the Altean family fortune, but she wasn’t really in the mood for any other mysteries right now.

That and according to Keith she was pretty forgettable.

“Oh im Lana… I used to play with you in the garden as a kid.”

“Oh my i'm so sorry Lana, im afraid my memory hasn’t been that good since the accident. She gestured to her veil and gloves “I got caught up in the Blitz and i'm afraid my appearance paid a higher price then by mind.”

Lana felt guilt crawl into her stomach, well at least she didn’t outright accuse  her of being a con artist. Besides Coran was a dear friend of the family, there's no way someone would be able to just take over Allura’s life without him noticing.

“Im sorry, I didn’t realise.”

Allura waved her off finally letting go of her skirt “don’t worry about it, ive made my peace with my situation, it is a tad lonely though, people aren't exactly eager to visit the manor these days.” She sounded so sincerely sad that Lana couldn’t help but feel for her.

She knew what it was like to lose everything because of a situation out of her control, the war had stolen many things from them, Lana was lucky to keep her beauty at least.

“Well then I suppose I have no choice but to come round for tea, I would invite you to my aunts cottage but they tend to get too excited around anyone they used to know.”

Lana gave her the best smile she could manage and was rewarded by Allura taking her hands and kissing them.

Once again her face turned an interesting shade of red.

“That sounds simply wonderful Lana, how about Thursday at 8 o'clock?”

Lana had lost her ability to form words so simply nodded earning her a small chuckle in response.

“I don’t want to keep you if your busy so ill just see you Thursday?” Allura asked startling Lana out of her stupor.

“Yes I should go, but i'll erm see you then I promise.”

Lana stuttered deciding it was best to continue on her way before she made an even bigger fool of herself so mustered up what grace she had to give an awkward curtsy realising that was dumb halfway through and instead turned and hurried on her way hitting herself muttering “stupid stupid stupid” over and over again until she finally arrived at the police station.

As expected of a small town the police station was fairly quiet this time of day home only to the drunks that were picked up the night before and only now being released to go back to their family or in some cases the church.

Of course one would expect it to be much busier with the number of bodies being dug up but unfortunately since Hannah left and it became national news the investigation had been taken over by some fancy out of state law enforcement that walk around in nice suits and a stuck up attitude to match their overall pompous appearance.

Going off the sour atmosphere in the station no one was too pleased to have the villages first ever big case stolen from under them.

Lana did her best to smile politely as she made her way to reception preparing herself for awkward small talk with someone she really hoped wouldn't recognise her.

“Hello im here-”

“If you got a crime to report fill out the form if not get lost.”

The woman behind the desk looked too young to be working, her slight frame and big doe eyes making her seem like she couldn't be much older than 15 but then again looks can be deceiving. Like the fact that despite wearing big round glasses and squinting at a book in front of her the glass within the frame appeared to be purely decorative and not actually serve any function.

Lana cleared her throat “no actually i'm here about the job. Im expected.”

This time she at least bothered to look up from her book and glanced Lana up and down “what they replacing me with some tramp, i've worked here ten years and they bring in some totty to take my job”

Lana quickly held up her hands feeling actually pretty threatened by this tiny angry lady “no! No i'm the new consultant im supposed to be working with Keith and-”

“Oi Keith! Some broad here says shes your new partner!” She yelled and just like that, all eyes were on her.

Lana smiled awkwardly at them really wishing a hole would appear beneath her and swallow her up whole so she could escape this situation.

However the only thing the universe sent her was a very flustered keith running in from the back.

He was carrying a stack of papers and had that god awful mullet tied back in a ponytail that honestly didn't look half bad on him.

“Thanks Katie i can take her from here.” Keith dropped the papers on her desk “Also Griffin needs you to file these for him.”

“He could do it himself” Katie grumbled grabbing the papers and flicking through them “he didn't even bother filling some of these out!”

Keith quietly grabbed Lana’s arm and pulled her towards him as Katie got distracted with her angry mutterings “Sorry about her, she's just pissed that her dad lost his job to a hot shot whos dad just happens to be a governor.”

“Ah where would be be without nepotism” Lana chuckled letting Keith led her back into a small office where five other people were sat. She assumed the cells were behind one of the closed doors and perhaps the archive room behind another.

It had been a long time since she had been back here, it was certainly before the war was even a possibility and she had broken the wrong persons window and ended up having to wait for her mother by Corans desk.

People tend to say that places from your youth always seem so much smaller when you visit them again. Until now Lana wasn't really sure she bought into that nostalgia fueled nonsense.

But seeing the row of chairs her feet used to dangel off while she prepared an excuse for her behaviour for her furious mother now looked like they would fall apart if she just got too close let alone sat on one.

At least not all the changes were bad. Coran really did deserve that nice office and the title Detective neatly painted above his name.

“You know I was starting to think you wouldn't be coming” Keith said as they came to what Lana assumed was his desk. It was a little away from the others and scattered with paper work in various states of finished. It lacked much personality beyond a couple of knives and oh boy keith standing next to an incredibly attractive man that Lana realised fairly quickly must have been his older brother.

“To be honest i wasn't sure either, my life kinda went to hell but Aunt Blue and Red practically shoved me out of the door.”

Keith chuckled in response as her perched on the edge of his desk “that sounds about right. Though I hate to say it but you've kind of come on boring day. Everyones so desperate for something to do that their even taking the grunt work from me.”

“So what your just sitting around all day?” Lana asked right as a hand collided with her behind.

Lana likes to think herself an understanding woman. Or at least she tries to ever since the instadent where what she thought was a gropper on a train turned out to be a blind man having dropped his cain. So rather then turning around and grabbing the arm of whoever just did that to break over her knee she calmly turned to them.

She came face to face with a tall man that she unfortunately recognised.

James Griffin top of the class when they went to school together and by far the most arrogant man she ever met. And that was before he got a cushy job thanks to his dad.

Lana glared up at him giving him a chance to apologize or say he had mistaken her for his girlfriend that was into that kind of thing.

Instead he just smirked “wow Keith how did you find yourself this hot piece of ass.”

Ok she was going to break his nose now.

Unfortunately before she got the chance keith stepped in front of her “don't talk to her like that Griffin, Coran hired her himself as a consultant and i'm sure he wouldn't take that kind of behaviour.’

James rolled his eyes but did visibly tense as he shot a glance at the closed office door. “Whatever. This whole thing is just for press, whoever heard of a woman police officer. Their far too emotional.”

“Last I checked you were the one that cried when i kicked you in the nuts as kids.” Lana huffed crossing her arms.

“Ah buck teeth Lana! My my you did fill out nicely. How about after work I take you out?” Jame smiled looking her up and down in a way that made her skin crawl.

“How about I tell your mother that you slap my ass, if i remember right she was a reasonable woman.”

Oh how quickly his attitude changed. He swallowed whatever response he had ready and scurried off to his office next to Corans.

“What a creep.”

“Yeah but a rich one.” Keith sighed “you ok?”

“Yeah just kinda pissed i didn't get to make that jerk squeal like in highschool.” Lana noticed a small smirk appear at the corner of keiths lips at that and decided to take it as a win even if she could still feel his disgusting hand on her.

Unfortunately the next few hours were not as exciting.

Lana pulled up a chair across from Keith and kept herself busy by flicking pieces of paper at him, an activity that he avoided joining in with for exactly ten minutes.

They were so wrapped up in their game that they didn't notice coran standing next to the desk until after Keith made the winning shot and jumped up to let out a victory cry.

“It's nice to see you've found a way to keep miss Mclain here entertained during our slow day.” Coran chuckled as Keith startled and quickly cleared his throat trying to hide the blush quickly creeping up his face.

“Detective i can explain”

Coran held his hand up quickly cutting him off “no need, I understand the importance of a bit of fun to avoid dying of boredom. The time for that has now sadly passed im sending you to look into a missing persons cases.”

Keith and lana exchanged a look, while lana’s was excitement Keiths was confusion.

“Sir while im happy for a case why not give it to someone else? Im sure all the others would kill for a case right now.”

Coran simply chuckled to himself handing over a case file “because Kogane your the only officer here I trust not to get side tracked while investigating. That and i'm sure Lana here will make sure your eyes don't wander too far.”

Lana wasn't really sure what he meant by that until they got to the scene of the crime.

Or as everyone else calls it the ‘Galra Gentlemens Club’.

When the club first opened it was met with outcry from the church and the school boards and well anyone with too much time on their hands.

Now after being open for more than a decade, those same people have become the most lucrative clientele, who know stuck up prudes could have such deep pockets for the sinful arts.

Keith had kindly offered to give Lana a ride on the handlebars of his bike since the club was located uphill from the station and there was no way the poor old police car would make it up the whole way. Apparently a replacement was on its way but they had been promising it since before the war.

Lana had of course told Keith that while she appreciate the offer she would find the very idea outlandishly improper, so of course made him ride the handle bars while she put her years of missing the bus and not wanting to be late training to good use.

After a quick check with her compact and a nod to Keith they entered the club.

Lana was no stranger to Gentlemens clubs, she had been to more than a few during the war to meet with people who were usually a lot more willing to give up information when they had a few drinks in them.

This club was no different, everything was a sickening deep purple as if the colour alone could make it classy or hide the disturbingly prominent wet patches on the couches.

Lana tried her very best not to stare at the men already here this early on a weekday morning and instead focused on following Keith back to see the manger.

“Just let me do the talking, guys like this aren't always that nice to women” Keith whispered as he knocked on the door and it swung open to not show a greasy man but instead a very tall muscular woman with short black hair wearing a suit.

Lana felt her mouth go dry just looking at her.

“A-are you the manager here?” Keith asked clearly feeling equally intimidated and aroused as Lana was.

“Yeah i am, who wants to know?” She asked leaning against the doorway and looking down at him. Her gaze however moved quickly from keith to Lana and a smile spread across her face.

“Usually we don't hire new talent outside of auditions but for  a beautiful girl like you im willing to make an exception.”

“I” Lana squeaked finding herself speechless for the first time in a long time.

Thankfully Keith came to her rescue before she could actually contemplate working for this greek god of a woman.

“Actually we came from the police station. You called about one of the dancers going missing?”

The woman nodded and stepped back into the room hurrying them inside before closing the door.

“Yeah my best girl Ezor, she was seen leaving the club last week but no one has seen her since.”

“Does she often disappear like this? Perhaps to visit a gentleman caller miss...?” Keith asked pulling out a notebook while Lana looked around the office.

“Zethrid…. And trust me she's not the sorts to make house calls.”

It was fairly empty save for a punching bag in the corner and a few pictures on the walls. Most of them were group shots of all the dancers in costumes. But those actually on the desk seemed only to contain Zethrid and a slim woman with pink hair tied in a high ponytail. It was just the two of them over and over again smiling like they didn't have a care in the world.

“Is this Ezor here?” Lana asked picking up one picture showing the two in the park, judging from the bunting and celebrating in the background it was the day the allie ‘won’ the war.

Zethrid nodded “yeah that's her… we actually live together and yeah she disappears sometimes but never for this long and never without contacting me.”

“Is it possible she ran off with a sweetheart?” Keith asked taking the picture.

“She wouldn't. I know she's been taken its the only explanation.”

Something told Lana that this relationship was deeper than friendship “The last night she was seen, was there anything unusual happening?”

Zethrid thought for a moment “now that you mention it there was a black car parked outside the club all day. I didn't give it much mind incase it was a customer trying to work up the nerve to come in but it left right after she did.”

“Did you happen to catch the plates?” Keith asked hopefully only to let out a disappointed sigh when she shook her head no.

“But the car was old looking with a dent in the drivers side door.”

Keith noted it down “thanks we will be in touch.”

He led the way out but Zethrid grabbed Lana by the arm before she could leave “please i can't imagine life without her… she's my best friend.”

Lana knew what it was like to lose one of those. So she smiled and put a hand over hers “I promise ill do everything I can to find her.”

Once they were safely outside keith let out a groan “you should promise people anything, it just means you'll get attached to the case.”

“Isn't that the job of a detective though? How can i love a case if i don't care about it?” Lana huffed hitching up her skirt and getting on the bike.

“I'm just saying that it will end up hurting you more if we find her dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Lana rolled her eyes “ever the optimist huh Mullet. Besides we have a lead how many people in town have old black cars?”

“Excluding the police cruiser i'd say seven.” Keith noticed the sceptical look Lana was giving him and rolled his eyes.

“My brother owns the mechanics remember, i help out sometimes and not many people really have cars round here.”

Lana sighed “maybe we should get a second opinion from your dreamy brother.” she batted her eyelashes playfully at him as he climbed onto the handle bars.

“Shut up and pedal we've got a lot of groundwork to do.”

Five hours!

It took five hours to find all the cars, to check for dents and alibis.

In that time Lana fell into two ditches, got attacked by a chicken and the rip in her dress traveled up to past her knee.

As her mother would say she's only some red lipstick away from looking like a whore.

Lana wished she could say that time was well spent and while watching Keith getting chased by an angry family of pigeons that had taken resident in one of the old cars they ultimately ended up on a dead end.

So while the light began to fade and the two slowly walked up to the station the mood was sour.

“It could always have been someone from out of town?” Lana suggested holding the split in her dress to try and keep it from travelling any higher.

“No they would have been too noticeable. If someone from out of town drove through here everyone would know about it by now. We must have missed something.”

Lana shivered in the cool air and was surprised when Keith handed over his jacket without taking his eyes off the path.

The red really did suit him better but the warmth from his body made her feel better.

“We should check surrounding houses tomorrow, maybe one of the cars was taken without the owner realising.”

“And what they dented it and then undented it?’ Keith snorted “no if the dent was fixed it would have had to come through the shop. Shiro may be able to help.”

“I'll try to hide my disappointment” Lana laughed earning her a playful push from Keith which she returned.

The two were laughing and having a moment of fun that when cold hard reality finally came crashing down Lana felt like she had been punched in the face.

Just as they walked in the car they were looking for pulled in behind them.

Old, black and with a large dent on the side.

The only problem was that it was Coran driving it.

[latestageyouth]

When you walk away (Nothing more to say)

chapter 10 - just,,,,all the fucking angst

trigger warnings: sympathetic Remus and Deceit, self-degrading talk, thoughts of suicide, crying, glass stuck in hand (Remus breaks a beer bottle in his hand), blood, toxic father, lots of swearing, lots of angst, allusions to biting nails into blood, rain, talk of hypothermia, some mentions of a dog barking, allusions to self harm and suicide (no actual suicide or intended self-harm), cognitive distortions, underage drinking, drinking spoiled beer let me know if i missed something

summary:  All the fucking angst poured into one chapter intended to emotionally destroy you.

author’s note: it's 2,500 plus words, buckle up, buttercups. I am writings this at near-midnight and if ya'll see some typos, don't blame it on me blame it on the red bull. Also wooo!!! this is the 10th chapter!!! can't believe I made it that far and that ya'll are still reading my elaborate daydreams that I vomited onto a screen!! yaay!!!

He was cold. No, not cold, numb. Both, actually. The rain trickled along his soaked denim jacket. Not that Damon cared, he deserved it anyway. The jacket did nothing to keep him warm, after all, it's main purpose was to look cool. A shiver shot through him as his phone buzzed in his back pocket. His shaking hand slowly took it out, "Avery...?"

Remus.

Damon put the phone back and let it ring until the only sound he could hear was the rain falling, the occasional car driving by. He didn't want to talk to Remus right now.

...Huh. Didn't want to talk to Remus, that would be a first. A bittersweet feeling flooded Damon's chest. He couldn't tell if he was still crying or not, if yes, the rain mixed with the tears too perfectly to tell. He could still see the sidewalk before him, but not for long. It was dark, it was getting darker. Damon sighed, just a few streets more. Just a-

He sneezed. Great, so now he has a cold, this day couldn't end any better. He flinched as a loud barking began, probably a dog. It's not like Damon paid any attention to it. He didn't know if Avery would be home, he prayed that they were not. The barking stopped, that or Damon was far enough for the sound of rain to block it out. He should check if Avery was home.

He pulled the phone out again, scrolling through the phone screen with some difficulty due to the rain. He finally reached their phone number, typing a simple message: 'u home yet??'

He waited for a response, still walking towards their house. He tried to shield the screen with his arm but eventually gave up when his arm started cramping. After a few minutes, after he finally accepted he would get so response, his phone buzzed. Damon looked at the screen again.

'U MEAN U ARENT HOME YET!?!!'

Oh, shit, that's right. God, Damon was so stupid sometimes. It wasn't long before the phone buzzed again.

'DAMON HORACE BARNES ANSWER ME DAMN IT!!!'

Well, there goes his freedom for the next six years and a half. He sped up his tempo and began writing back: 'i was at-' he hesitated, finger hovering before the screen for a while, then they got back to work 'i was at virgil's'

'...at least u were inside, wouldnt want u hanging out under a bride in this bad weather or something'

'lmao y would i be under a bridge im not THAT stupid'

'just get home already -_-'

And with that, Damon shut off his phone and looked up at where he was, hopefully his muscle memory didn't betray him. It didn't seem to, as his house was finally in view. He sighed and walked directly towards it, picking up the spare key from beneath the welcome mat on the rocky path. He opened the door and was immediately hit with a wave of warmth. He took off the soaking jacket and tossed it onto the kitchen table. He shivered at the feeling of bare arms, the wet t-shirt doing nothing to preserve his body heat. Not that he cared anyway, it was just another thing to add to his list of problems.

He went straight to his room, not bothering to turn on the light, plopping onto his bed in the still wet clothes. Now that he was alone, still cold, and at home, he could think about what will be the consequences of his actions. He tangled his hands into his hair. Stupid. Remus probably hates him now, great, he made everything between them awkward because he was selfish and wanted Remus for himself. He curled up into himself. Stupid. Of course the one time he doesn't think, the only time he acts on impulse, is the time that he ruins everything and more. He tugs on his hair harshly, taking his attention away from the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He's so stupid.

"Okay, you guys ready?" Jenna glanced between the two, "Or is our widdle newd here afraid of freezing to death?" she baby-talked at Logan.

Logan rolled his eyes in retaliation, not saying anything and instead walking up the steep hill to Jenna's brother's car. He...wasn't entirely sure what he was called. Kind of a bad thing considering he was getting a ride from him. It wasn't long before the other two joined, Jenna sitting in the front seat while Logan and Virgil were in the back seat. Logan didn't care for nor listened to the bickering of the twin. He turned his head to the other side at the heavy feeling on his shoulder. Virgil was resting against it, of course, Virgil always preferred to initiate physical contact, it was obvious why. The ride was not at all silent, not that it bothered either of them. It wasn't long before they were at Virgil's house, with the mix of Virgil signing and Logan interpreting to...Tyler, was it? for directions. He didn't thank the twins, even when exiting the old car. It was a bummer leaving Logan, but he'll live, right?

Virgil pulled out his keys to the house and let himself in, recoiling in panic when someone threw himself at him, "There you are! I was worried sick! I thought someone had kidnapped you or you froze to death!" Emile pulled back, still clutching at his shoulders, to look at him, "Do you even know how late it is?! I thought you…" Emile trailed off. The scars on Virgil's legs hurt faintly as he did. Emile soon shook his head, "Well, I am really glad you didn't. Y-you must be cold. Wait on the sofa, I'll make you some hot cocoa and reheat yesterday's dinner, yeah?"

Virgil couldn't help but nod, his chest heaving with guilt of what he did. Not the same guilt mom made him feel, no, definitely not. This was a new kind, he didn't like that one either. The sofa was soft, softer than he remembered, maybe he was just tired…Was Logan tired? Why was Virgil asking that? Of course he was, who wouldn't be?

To say Logan was tired would be an underestimation. He was exhausted, in more than one way, "Answer me, for fuck's sake!" The hands banged on the table. Logan didn't relent answering this time, "I, uh, I was heading home and...got caught up with some friends…" he fiddled with the loose of his flannel.

His dad scoffed, "Some friends you have, you smell like cigarettes and paint."

Logan needed to think of a good lie, just until momma comes down. Just a few minutes, she always worries for Logan, she would check if he came home. His dad inched closer, "It's a second-hand smell, I had to take a shortcut through a poorer part of the city."

Soft steps could be heard up the stairs, growing closer and closer. It wasn't soon after that momma revealed herself on top of them, tired as always. She froze for a second when she saw Logan, then stomped down, all while dad tried to reason with her, "Honey, Melissa, you surely know what a slacker he is, I mean, look at him."

Melissa turned her head so she couldn't see Gerald sign or move his lips. She looked at Logan taking his face in her hands. Logan looked away, sighing after an intense staring contest that Melissa won, "I am sorry, it won't happen again, I promise," Melissa was still frowning, but her face softened, she always had a soft spot for Logan.

Gerald scoffed, knowing his wife won't hear him anyway, "I can't believe she's that gullible..." he grumbled something under his breath, most probably about Logan being spoiled, and went upstairs to his office, where else would he go? His mother removed her hands from his cheeks and began signing, a thing Logan was glad he didn't have to interpret to someone anymore, like, do you even know how tiring that is?

'Where on earth have you been? Do you know how worried I was?!'

Logan sighed, signing back, 'I was out with some of my friends, I apologize for making you worry,' he watched as surprise glazed over her face for a second.

'Boys like Roman and Patton would never stay out so late.'

Logan hesitated, looking away.

Melissa raised an eyebrow, eventually waving it off and sending Logan to bed. The poor boy must be tired, she was too. She can interrogate him about his whereabouts some other time.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The droplets of rain fell to the ground endlessly. Clank. Remus kicked the trash can over, garbage spilling over the sidewalk. Tap. Tap. Tap. His shoes tapped against the concrete. His uneven breaths echoed the streets in white clouds of breaths. The place where his fingernails should be is stinging with the cold and pain, fingers digging into the outer side of his arms, dried blood on where the fingers were placed. It wasn't from the arms, his nails weren't sharp enough to do that. Remus could still feel the metallic taste in his mouth, the familiar taste, it didn't mean he liked it though. He hit his foot on something hard, his eyebrows furrowed. Remus looked down at it, slowly picking the beer bottle up. Did it have something left? Remus shook it. Hah, at least something in his life didn't go wrong for once. It tasted bitter, flat, Remus might say. Not that it mattered, as long as it got him drunk. He took another swig, face scrunching up at the taste, but hey, he'll get used to it. Just like he gets used to everything. Like living with momma. Like being a disappointment of the family. Like being alone. Yeah, he can get used to being alone again, no biggie. He'll get over it. He gets over everything.

He heard a car passing, god, he hopes it'll run him over. It gets closer, Remus can hear it. He considers running in front of it...no, he...he couldn't do that to Virgil. A freezing shock runs through the left side of his body, he shrikes and jumps away from the road.

...God, simply fucking amazing. Now he's soaked completely. Well, too late to jump in front of that car now. Remus blinked and looked up...Where was he again? How...How long did he walk for?

"Remus?"

He already knew who that was, how couldn't he? He didn't need to be babied. Remus kept walking. He couldn't even bare looking at Damon's family.

The car still rode beside him slowly, "Remus, kid, you're gonna freeze out here, c'mon."

Remus kept walking.

Avery sighed, "I'll drive you home, okay?"

"Why?" Remus barked back. His step quickened.

Avery stuttered, "Why?!" Remus flinched at the sudden rise of tone. Avery tensed, "Look, sport, by this rate you're gonna get hypothermia, and I already have one teenager to worry about. Get in the car."

Remus didn't relent. He didn't wanna deal with anyone right now. Knowing Avery, they wouldn't...interrogate him, per se, but they will try to, ugh, talk to him. He didn't need that. He didn't hear them say anything. Did they drive off already? He didn't hear them.

Avery sighed, "I'll call your mom."

Remus' eyes widened, "Wait, no, don't!"

Too late. Too late again. Fucking god, Remus just couldn't do anything right, could he? He just...always messed up no matter what. Remus' grip on the bottle tightened. He could just hear ma and Roman, 'God, Remus, you're such a burden!' his hand started shaking. Why should he even bother them with his presence? Maybe if he hurts everyone he comes to contact with he shouldn't exi-

The bottle shattered. Remus hissed in pain. Fuck. He dropped the remains of the beer bottle onto the ground, beer mixing with his blood. His hand twitched, he trembled with pain, and the rain isn't fucking helping. Great, just...fucking magnificent. This shit is just asking to get infected. Whatever. Whatever. What the fuck ever.

Avery opened the door to their house, putting the keys back in their purse. It was dark, don't tell them..."Damon? Honey, are you here?" they called out, listening carefully for any sound. Soft sobbing came from his room. Avery slowly walked to Damon's room, not bothering to knock and opening the door right away, "Sport? You okay?"

The light from the kitchen illuminated a part of his room, mainly the bed where a bundle of sheets shifted more into themselves, "Get out," came from beneath them, voice hoarse and raspy, almost like...

"Oh, honey," Avery walked closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, "I am assuming it has something to do with Remus?"

The muffled breathing stopped, they could almost feel Damon tense.

"I...saw him on the way here," they explained.

Like on command, Damon rose from the bed, "You what?! What did- did he say something? Wh- why is he still out, it's late!" his bloodshot eyes were wide and searching all over Avery's face for answers. All he was getting were dark circles and even darker eyes.

Avery sighed and slowly moved their hand to Damon's. This time, they could actually feel him tense up, "Damon, sweetheart, what happened? Did Remus hurt you?"

Damon looked at Avery like they had just slapped him, Wh-what?! Of course not! He would, he would never do that!" his hand clenched into a fist. Damon looked away from his parent, "I just...messed up like I always do."

Something in Avery broke, "Dee, dee, sugar, look at me."

Although unwillingly, Damon looked at them. They took Damon's face into their hands.

"You could never mess up something as big as you and Remus, okay? One mistake won't erase years of friendship."

"B-but-"

"There are no buts in this household, Dee," they slowly stroked the other's cheek, "I am sure you two will make up in no time."

Eventually, Damon gave up on trying to convince Avery otherwise. He nodded, "Yeah, okay. You're right," just get over with it, he wanted to be alone right now. Or forever.

Avery sighed, "Of course I am, just wait," they got up from the bed and walked over to the door before turning back to Damon, "I'll order some pizza and we can watch Law & Order on my laptop, yeah?"

Damon nodded. As soon as Avery walked out he buried himself back in his bed. Huh, he didn't notice but he was starving. Whatever, he deserved it anyway. He could hear Avery talking on the phone, though he tuned them out. He wanted to be left alone, how could he trust himself around other people now? He couldn't. He shouldn't. He should just...pretend tonight didn't happen and avoid Remus as much as possible. Yes. The best-case scenario, Remus was too drunk to remember it, though, he probably wasn't. Eh, give Damon a rest, let a man dream. Though...Damon wasn't sure he would dream tonight...or anywhen in the future, really. Now that he thinks about it, Damon wasn't sure about a lot of things. Hah, how pathetic of him.

[voidsfanficfortress]

Snowed In In Your Heart

It was snowing,dead silence,not even a machine making noise, however, inside a little cabin, life dwelled inside, smaller machines were making a pillowfort, as a human made a warm drink.

The Fire cracked slightly, the flame moving as if it was dancing.Slow feet drag themselves along the livingroom, and sit in the couch-like furniture, the girl takes a sip, watching the fireplace as the warmth of it hits her skin,a sigh of relief comes out and the machines around her purr, its a calm evening in the banuk territory.

The girl was an engenieer, she liked to tinker with machines , making them, even, and the ones she created, were docile, and calm, usually helping around the house, and going with her on patrol.

The area she lived had a lot of Rivers and ponds,frozen by now,and it was a shortcut to The Cut, and the main place of Aratak's werak, her job is to take care of the area, make sure no-one suspicious entered and help lost wanderers.

But now, nothing comes up on the radar she installed around the thin Ice ponds, no heat signal on any screen, finally she could relax, sleep and maybe invent something...

But no..., SOMEBODY had to get lost in the middle of the forest.

The girl sighs, and grabs her thick furcoat, giving a last long sip to her drink, the wolves behind her make a mechanic whine and follow her , they place themselves on the reins in the mechanical sled and walk, pushing it behind them in case the person lost is injured.

Eventually they arrive where the scanner indicated, a tall and dark skinned Man rans towards her, trying not to freeze.

-Finally someone!- the Man says as he rubs his hands on his arms, trying to warm himself- we Need to get the fuck out before a blizzard comes-

'Not even a thank you, okay. Rude' the girl thinks,as she leads the Man to the sled, he sits and the wolves push foward ,she takes the wolves back to the cabin, with a bit of luck, her drink might still be warm

-What were you doing in there?, nobody uses that shortcut anymore-

-One, Id Like the name of my saviour, second, whatever I was doing there is non of your bussines-

The woman sighs and nodds, grabbing the drink.

-My name, Is Jericho, - she sits in the couch with an eyebrow raised- I guess you wont tell me your name either , since is none of my business..-

The Man sighs and sits near the fireplace, warming his body.

-My name, Is Sylens-he says looking at jericho- thought Aratak have already mentioned me-

-he is a Man who speaks few words,and besides- the banuk woman says- I live far from aratak's werak , but he pays me in metal shards and leftovers of machines he hunts, I dont care what he does , ill stay here in this area anyway, nobody disturbs me and im okay with it-

Sylens hums in agreement and looks at the wolf-like machines, one of them sits in his lap, and he cant help but pet them.

-You made them?- the Man asks

-Now see-jericho says with a smug smile on her face- I could say that Is none of your business ,BUT im a good person so I will answer your question- sylens rolls his eyes and his face contorns into a small smile- yes, I made them myself, I am both an engenieer and a tinkerer of sorts-

-Well...these are...just amazing, im impressed-

Jericho chuckles and drinks the last of her drink.

-Alright misterious stranger , I suspect the blizzard Will start anytime soon-she stands up, and locks the door of the cabin,she hears her companion chuckle under his breath- we Will probably get snowed in, since the snow here covers most of the entrance, and Judging from what I can see out the Window , its going to be a bad one-

'Are you serious?, I have to get trough the cut as soon as possible!' Sylens complains inside his head, but outside he nodds.

-So ill have to stay here until the blizzard stops, good, now,how much does a blizzard last around here-

Jericho bits her Lip,knowing that those types of storms can last a bit too long.

-Well...two to three weeks almost, maybe two and a half if youre lucky-

- you must be kidding!-sylens stands up, and looks at her- I got to get trough the cut in less than a week!, dont you have any type of gizmo that can help me get there faster?-

The banuk woman shakes her head.

-I too have bussines in the Cut but they Will have to wait, im sorry sylens..., you'll have to stay here until the storm goes away-The Man sighs.-luckily for you, I have a spare bed, come, over here-

They walk around the cabin, it goes into the mountain just behind it, and there is the spare room.

-Make yourself comfortable,if its too cold use one of the fur covers over there- she point at a couple of furs hanging- I havent figured how to install a fireplace here so, that Will have to do-

Sylens nodds and gets to unpack some of his stuff.

{...}

After dinner, both share a goodnight and they go to their beds.

In the night, sylens shifts and trashes around this bed.

Its too cold.

He sighs in defeat, dragging himself along the corridos of the house, arriving at the livingroom, where jericho was, the place was way warmer than his room, the fireplace illuminates the woman's features, a Pointy nose, thin lips and a few strands of dark chocolate hair , losely resting around her face.

He feels his cheeks getting warmer.

No, he couldnt be blushing, he never blushes.

Hell, he was sure he is allergic to human emotions!.

But he Will admit he misses the kindness of others, and Jericho had a lot of it, and not just that, she is sarcastic and funny, and really clever.

Just for once, he pushes that cold demeanor to the back of his head.

The woman shifts , facing the wall.Sylens goes and lays down Next to her, covering himself with the fur, still looking at the fireplace.

A lot of thoughts ran over in his mind.

What the hell is he doing laying down Next to her?.

He should be looking for a way to get trough the Cut as soon as possible!.

But living the moment doesnt feel extremely bad.

He never relaxes or takes a break, always on the run.

-Too cold back there?- a half-asleep voice says.

Sylens snaps out of it.

-if it makes you unconfortable ill leave right away--

A pair of arms hug him from behind, and a face rests in the crook of his neck.

-No no,stay, its okay,I dont mind-

He gets what shes trying to do, reduce heat loss but...his cheeks go absolutely red, thank god she cant see it.

His body scoots closer to jericho's chest, the warm of her body makes him quickly feel sleepy and tired, and before he closes his eyes he sees the both of them holding hands.

But he doesnt have time to complain, he's about to fall asleep.

And maybe it isnt such a Bad idea...

{...}

-void

[everythingandeveryplace]

Jacob Black x OC Fanfic chapter 2

Break Her.

Part 1:

https://everythingandeveryplace.tumblr.com/post/185702977637/twilight-au-chapter-1-break-her-emilys-hollow

“Ellie Parker.. um that’s my name. I was walking home from work, I work at the diner.. Forks Diner. I was on the night shift., ya know my car is old so I brought it to the shop and you wouldn’t believe how much it costs to fix the engine, that’s why I’m working the night shift.. it’s kind of like a series of unfortunate events.. ya know like the book?.. ouch.” Ellie rambled, wincing as Emily stitched up a particularly nasty gash on her forearm.

“So anyway, I was walking home and was taking a shortcut through the woods because it was dark and I didn’t wanna get run over on the street when I heard your friend cry out. I went to help and they attacked me, we managed to get them off but they were awfully close to eating us both. I was a little late for the big guy but I figure he’ll be alright, even half dead he managed to fight most of them off before they ran off, I just hit a few with a tree branch, don’t think it helped much.”

Jacob hovered, his fingers fidgeting desperately to touch her, to make her pain go away, scoop her up and take her away from this entire situation. Emily looked over her shoulder and waved Jacob away like a gnat, her face mixed with equal parts frustration and curiosity at his unsual behavior.

“Oh no sweetheart, you helped much more than you could even imagine. You brought my husband home, we’ll never be able to repay you, you put your self in danger for my family.” Emily placed a soothing hand on the tiny girls shoulder, her eyes shining with grateful tears.

“It was nothing.” Ellie mumbled, her eyes turning to meet jakes intense ones. She smiled softly before turning back to Emily “thanks for stitching me up, I oughta be going home, I’ve got a dog and I left him home alone all day, probably tore up my couch.” She chuckled.

Jared popped his head up from the couch and raised a brow

“You live on your own? How old are you anyway?”

The rest of the pack turned their attention to the brunette currently wiping her hands on her work uniform, smearing dirt all over the pastel blue dress.

“Im 19, I live right on the border of La Push and Forks. Tiny house in the woods, it’s yellow.” She shrugged smiling sweetly at the group of rowdy boys.

Paul who had seen the way Jacob had reacted to the girl grinned foolishly and nudged the taller boys shoulder.

“What a coincidence, Jake here is also 19! Isn’t that right Jake?”

Is possible jakes olive skin darkened to a warm pink as he stuttered

“I um.. yeah, I’m.. actually I’m gonna be 20 but now... I mean currently I’m 19. I mean obviously if I’m going to be 20 I’m 19 that was stupid, I don’t know why i even said that. I don’t know why I say half the things..” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Ellie grinned

“I’ll be 20 too. You guys look much older, must be a wolf thing huh?”

Embry spit his soda from his mouth and Quill nearly choked on a handful of popcorn.

“What?!” Paul barked

“What are you talking about hun?” Emily moved forward slowly, her eyes wide.

Jared moved towards her but Jake was quicker, he rushed to her side and moved her behind his shoulder protectively, a low growl escaping his lips.

Jared stopped abruptly, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“I’m not gonna touch her dude, Jesus.”

“Jake.” Emily warned gently.

“I don’t mean any harm, it’s pretty hard to miss. I live in the woods, I see y’all nearly every night, you’ve got the reddish fur with the white tufts.” She pointed to Paul who didn’t respond, just stared with wide eyes. “ and you have grey fur, your tongues always out. The goofy one.” She nodded towards quill. “And you..” she smiled softly at Seth “the tiniest one, awfully cute if you don’t mind me saying.” Seth’s cheeks flamed bright red and he smiled bashfully.

Emily bit her lip

“I don’t understand..”

“You guys hang out outside my house all the time, don’t get wrong I was terrified at first but then I did some research. I know the stories and the legends, didn’t think it was real but I could tell from the moment I saw Sam.” Ellie shrugged, shifting on her feet, Jake could feel her breath on his back she was so close.

“and you’re not completely alarmed or concerned? Weirded out?” Embry questioned.

Ellie shrugged again

“I’m from Podunk down south, my moms brother married his sister and had 9 kids, nothing weirds me out anymore. Y’all haven’t done anything to make me worry, you do freak my dog out though.” She giggled. “I do have to go though, you let Sam know I hope he recovers quickly. It was nice meeting you all officially.” Her eyes twinkled adorably before her tiny white sneakers disappeared from the front door.

It was silent for a moment before Quill broke the air

“Damn she’s hot.”

“And cool.” Embry added

“And smart.” Seth beamed.

“And mine.” Jake turned towards his pack “Ellie is mine, you don’t touch her.” His tone was so severe and different than his normal, casual way of speaking that everyone stared dumbly at the serious boy in front of them.

Emily was the first to speak, her hands clapping together

“Oh my god! You’ve imprinted! I have to go tell Sam!” Emily practically sprinted from the room.

“Dude! Not fair, you got the hottest girl to ever step foot in La Push to be tied to you forever!” Embry slapped his shoulder

“The girl who just got attacked by vampires and is now walking the woods by herself.” Leah said dryly.

Jake was out the door in seconds flat.

[nathangranofsky]

listen me read Dear Everybody 01 by love nathan

Dear Everybody, It’s been quite some time since we last spoke. I've missed you. Every single body in you. So much. So long. Come back to me. I miss you. Imma swirling and a twirling in a whirlwind of longing for our correspondence, and you had no idea. Did you? You were completely in the dark as to the fact that up until this moment right now, I chose to keep myself from speaking to you. I've remained silent when the fact is all i've wished to do is do the opposite of that. Me wanna speak to you, baby. Within all that was the speechless all i wanted was to be loud at you, boo. That's a fact. And here comes the why -- a why that is firmly mounted to the butt end of that fact. I no no speak at you when i wanna wanna why? Cuz you are the butt end of that fact. Traveling by the pulse of a silenced throat, me, a hushed vessel of vocals, rafting down a tube of possible conversation, paddling backwards towards the other hole of the tube. The hole I didn't enter into the tube thru. Which is, obviously, the butt of the tube. No. I've been paddling backwards AWAY from the end of the tube opposite from where I where i entered the tube because you are at the end of the tube and the end of the tube that isn't the end I entered thru is the butt of is the butt end. Because that's what you call the bottom of a tube. Right? That's what I call the bottom end of a tube. If no one but me calls one end of the tube the mouth and the other the butt, where did I get that from? I mean I could've easily made it up, but I think mouth and butt are good names for either end of any hypothetical tube. See, if I where to attach a tube to a wall, just a normal tube...no. i guess i don't really need to attach it to a wall, i don't want to confuse you unnecessarily, a wall would have no relevance in this scenario. the only reason the tube in this example would be up against a wall is because i want the tube to be standing like a person and i guess to make the tube a person that person is standing up against a wall to be measured for their height. that's why the tube person is standing up against the wall i guess. to see how much they've grown in a year or so. i guess only kids really do that kind of thing. so this person would be a kid. Or a teen or a highschooler or freshmen in college. this is why i said there isn't a wall. imagining a tube being a person who is a kid who is being measured for their height is too confusing. so no wall. instead, imagine you're holding a pvc pipe in your hand, say it has a diameter of five inches and it's two feet long or whatever. The length doesn't really matter it just has to be long enough for a marble to drop into n roll for a half a second or two which would be a whole second. If you drop a marble in the tube you are holding it will roll for a second. Of course, it doesn't have to be a marble. it could be something smaller or bigger than a marble. It could be a rock. A rock n roll. ahe. As long as whatever you throw into the tube can fit easily thru a five inch wide space without any shoving or shaking or anything. Just hold onto the tube, and drop something thru it. And just to be clear -- obviously I'm talking vertical. Hold the tube vertically. Then drop your bouncy ball or lego man head or rock or whatever fits in there, thru the top of the tube, so it goes down from the top and out the bottom. Again to be more clearer, the five inch diameter holds no relevance either. The tube could be 3in around or 5in around or 10in around just as long as it can be grasped in one hand because you or whoever is dropping the donut-hole or walnut thru the tube has to have another hand free to drop said item into the tube. The item also doesnt mean any thing i just thought a little action would make my tube idea pop a little. You know pizzazzz it up but now i realize all i needed was a tube of any fixed size standing vertical. Well, floating. the tube has to be floating so that both ends remain open. so, in an empty space there is a tube floating vertically. This levitation very much also holds no meaning it's just a lot easier to just use the tube surrounded by nothing with no one holding it. No one is around so there's no confusion because who needs more confusion in their life in times like these. There's a tube, standing vertical in a void. you could put something in it but you don't have to. you aren't around the tube. the tube is there. all by itself being all vertical and you are just lookin at it. There is a tube, and while you don't have a body because you having a body looking at the tube would further confuse what i'm desperately trying to invent in order to express that which is difficult to express i would think without visual aid, while you may not have a body, if you were to put skin and muscles around the tube, that thing would kinda look like a human body. and the tube part would become like the tube part of the body which is the digestive system. That's why the tube I'm backpaddling inside of, in my example of why I haven't been talking to you, the top end of that tube, as it should be for all other tubes because all tubes if you attached organs and skin to them are almost exactly like where the food need go in a human body, the tube within bodskin is like the bod's digestive system so i call the entrance opening of all tubes a mouth, and the bottom opening the butt. and as I mentioned way way way up there, there is something within my imaginary tube, and that something is my desire to speak to you. This desire started in the mouth of the tube, a tube which is.. what did I say? Two feet long? well, now that youwa're imagining the tube as a human with a digestive system, i must admit, a two foot digestive system is much shorter than a normal digestive system. Yes. Much shorter. Two feet is very much an abnormal length for a digestive system. But as this explanation has shown itself to be much stranger and longer than i anticipated, im keeping the tube two feet in length, even tho a person with a two foot digestive system is really just a throat. And while this entire thing is about me wishing to speak to you and relating to myself as just a head with a throat would be a very nice tie-in, i need to make it all the way down to the butt. And a two foot drop from mouth to butt is a short trip and i think that i and you deserve one of those at this point. whew. That was like the shortcuts my dad would take driving me home as a kid, they were not. I have to come clean, the length of the tube also holds no meaning. but two foot it be. Two foot tube. Yes, there is a tube hanging vertical in an infinitely open space that is two feet in length. Now, convert those feet into years. I don't know exactly what the conversion rate of feet to years is. Right now i'm inside the tube right up above the butt of the tube, and i entered the tube of not talking to you by way of the tube's mouth years ago so...two feet equals...what has it been since we've talked...ten years? No. Longer. Hold on. My tube is getting all hamstered. huuuhfff. any mathematical yous might get frustrated by this but i'm going to skip over the conversion for now. Oh, wait! The length of the tube is irrelevant. i keep backtracking by forgetting the rules of the tube. Very much like the way i'm backpaddling away from the butt end of a possibly two foot tube i entered over a decade ago. the tube is supposed to be the size of the human digestive system, so while the length is irrelevant it has to be kinda small. Don't wanna climb into a giant throat. The tube isn't any fixed length but it is kinda like the size of your or your mom or dad's throat. that being said: i am not a person that shrunk down to armyman size to be in this throat tube. It's a metaphor. No. Hold on, gotta go look up the definition of metaphor. Ok im back. Yes, it's a metaphor. The tube isnt a real tube i entered due to being honey i shrunk the kidsed. The tube is a metaphor for desire. Desire that is within me. So, the tube is desire. And that little metaphorical me, not Indian in the cupboard shrunkin me, is filled with the same desire my tube represents. So, henceforth, the metaphor stands that the tube is my desire and my desire is within me within my tube. But who am i? If the little me has my desire within, hhhhuuuuuuwhhhh who am i? who be that little me? i think it to be much easier if the tiny me inside the tube of desire wasn't a little me, but a representation of my desire's ebbing and flowing, its growing and shrinking thru time. now, im that's in the tube is not shrinking and growing. i would get stuck in the tube, and obviously i've been passing quite easily thru the tube of desire. The years keep rolling on. Rowing on one might say. So the rowing is actually the ebbing and flowing and growing and shrinking. I just realized this whole time I've been imagining water flowing thru the tube and myself sitting in a tiny wooden fishing vessel. i never disclosed this info, did i? I know that i just threw another curve into the supposedly straight tube of desire, but i think this actualuh lly helps. The me in the tube is an easily relatableble representation of the desire that the tube represents. So me in the tube of desire is also desire. I suppose this means the me in the tube is also a tube. If a tube is desire and I'm desire then I'm a tube. I am a tube. A cute little tube. Don't worry! You can still think of this smaller tube of desire as a human because of what we discussed earlier. If ya put muscles and skin on a tube, it looks almost exactly like a human. So imagine the tube of desire is just a tube, or a tunnel. A tunnel of desire. That is way better imagery, but i've gotten so used to a tube being desire i'm sticking with tube. Imagine the tube of desire looking just like a tube and the desire within the tube as a tube that looks like me on a boat with paddles coursing down a water way, aka the unstoppable stream of time. The boat and the paddles aint actual boat with paddles. This is another metaphor. Which is my desire to control where my desire ends up over a certain amount of time. So, it being the desire of my desire of my desire, the boat must also be a tewwb. If this makes it easier, just pretend the boat is in fact a tube but a tube that was a wooden tube that was chopped down like a tree and built into a boat. The hope to control where my desire ends up, is hopeless. I knew this right after entering the tube. It had to end up that i eventually spoke to you again, the desire to do so was too strong. too good of a tube. a tube well built. a tube's tube. and my desire to not fulfill that desire within a tube of desire is much too weak to last more than however long it's been since we last talked to each other. Now, one might ask: if all the tubes thus far in this metaphor have been desire tubes, are all tubes everywhere in the world of this metaphor tubes of desire? or are there different tubes representing all possible emotions? a tube of frustration, a tube of disappointment, the horny tube. i know youre assuming, me bringing up horny tube is a gag of some sort, a tube of jest uncalled for, everybody knows what a horny tube is why would i mention that tube of all the other emotions as tubes i couldve possibly mentioned? but remember, this is only a metaphor and there is no guarantee that if you made an effort and put muscles and skin on the horny tube? There's like only a seventy percent it would look anything at all like a penis. as to not continually muddle this thang unduly, uh hereby declair all tubes to be desire. And desire, radiates from the heart. So I'm a tube in a tube on a tube in my actual heart. And when my hearts tubed desire started at the mouth of the metaphorical tube of desire ,not necessarily two feet long in length, it wasn't that strong because it was years ago and years ago which is a pretty long time ago because I'm positive the conversion rate of feet to years is very much like converting human years into dog years. It has to be cuz we haven't uhspoke since a long way back up the tube. I just realized paddling thru a tube doesn't really work when the tube is vertical. slant the tube a little, rotate it counterclockwise just enough to give it an incline. I want my desire to roll like rapids, not dump like a waterfall. Onward. Now, imagine it is years ago and i had just spoken to you. because said speaking was accomplished just before this metaphor began, I didn't really have any desire to speak to you that much, which is understandable because desire is a tube and i wasn't in the tube yet. i didnt know i was about to enter and be surrounded by an entire tube of desire. As my want for words with you manifested as a metaphorical tube on a tube within a tube in my heart, the result was the real me and my heart sliding down into the depths of that tube and away from the mouth of that tube uhhh deeuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh like jello. Jello which is the real me engulfed by my desire traveling via desire on desire thru the engulfing desire inside my heart inside of me -- because this metaphor is coming from me which means it is my real desire radiating within and out from me. But it's hard to visualize desire radiation. And while it may be invisible, the radiation of desire is all too real. So as makes since, that real desire requires a relatable visual representation in addition to the imagery of the tube on a tube in a tube of desire over time. in order to connect these two expressions, the metaphorical and the real, i've decided to take the real me and my radiating desire and turn them into something that could, if so desired, easily fit into a tube. And that something is jello. Thus is born the jello me. And all the jello me wants? is to be in the mouth. that's where all the taste is. And taste is you and i speaking. jello may at first glance seem like a soulless inanimate gooshnotquitesolidliquidstuff, but when me be jello, I'm jello with a brain. Now, jellos predisposition toward jiggling and the continual jiggling required to travel from one end of a decades long tube to the other would most definitely cause permanent damage to the brain of jello me. so getting down the tube means a lot of sliding. Can jello slide without jiggling? I don't think it can. There can't be any jiggling for the sake of my physical wellbeing. Maybe it could stretch. but if you think about if you think about it, if you try to stretch jello it doesn't. Just breaks. and the point the point of all this is that i am real and jello. the real me. as jello. i can't be jiggled i can't be broken because that would eventually kill me. I'd be dead right now. I've been jello in a tube of undisclosed and possibly great length for over a decade, and there's no way i'm surviving if imma stretchin and a slidin. So the only way for jello me to get thru a tube and technically remain jello would be for the jello to melt back into its liquid form. but that means i'm becoming thinner and thinner as i traverse the tube. The real me has to remain separate from the metaphorical me, and i could totally see jello me becoming so thin it coats the interior of the tube like a stain. like a green stain. A green stain you could coat your deck with. update i imagine the jello me as green jello. lime jello. my favorite flayvor of jello and at the point lime jello me is so thin i'm just a stain, there really is no way to tell the real me from the real me's radiating desire from the metaphorical me and metaphorical me's desire. So, once again i'm a tube, with the inside of the tube now stained green. But, in the real reality I'm a jello of desire that needs to be set apart from the tube of desire. but if it must be such that real me need thin to the point of being nothing more than a green stain so that i may pass thru the tube without jiggling myself into oblivion, melting the jelloed me in a tube means the tube would have to be hot. and that makes total sense. desire can be pretty hot. My best desire has always been my hottest desire. So now we have a separation between the tube and the jello. Hot desire. The tube is hot, the jello is not, not a first. The jelloed jello me enters the tube and i start to become hot and melt and travel faster and faster down the tube of desire wishing i was jello again. and then i reach the butt. I'm completely liquified by the time i reach the butt. Which is what need happen in order for me to reach the butt where i am now in in present time in real me time with the tubes and the jello and the raaaaaayyydeeeeeeateing, liquid jello me need haaaaaappen but also not what need. i'm in a tube that is almost totally vertical, and there's really no good way ferfer my liquid jello me to keep itself from hitting that butt without shoving something into the butt and this thing is overly complicated already and has really got away from me. I cant shove anything into the butt. I would like to, to stop my liquid from spewing forth from the butt before it is appropriate for it to do so. it has to. my liquid must spew. because here i am and theres my dog. and in the metaphor i'm inside the tube at the butt end because i'm trying to plug it to keep me in there. but right now i have to be outside the tube the tube is desire so since me talking to you with no talkie to you was the desire whence the tube was formed and I am speaking at cha sweetie now that means i can't be inside the tube anymore because the desire is gone because the desire existed as a tube when i wasn't talking to you sweetie. but Currently, in the metaphor whatever of me is in the tube has yet to excrete from the tube. And it shouldn't yet. Because this metaphor climaxes with a battle scene between myself and my desire. Layers of psychological battering and introspection. Colors and lights and explosions. Am i fighting that which plugs the buttway? Probably. Probably. Probably. probably. probably probably probahbly. Praahhhbably. probabbubly. prPRObably.PRObably. Prooobably. probubly. prbly. I just don't have the energy to figure out what i'm going to shove in the butt and how far it's going into the butt or how hot the thing that is to be shoved is. n there's the icemaker. I could use a drink. hfffffm. I think the best thing to do is to start over and keep it simple. I'm starting over. That's really my only option. Dear Everybody, I'm a tube and you're the butt end of the tube. No. My FEELINGS are a tube, and you're the butt end of my feelings. No. My feelings are INSIDE a tube and that tube ends with butt. Hmm. Some tubes have an opening at both ends but my feelings my feelings are in a tube and you are where my feelings have to get to to be fulfilled. Oh my god. Dear Everybody, I like you but you can be a real butt sometimes. I appreciate you, but you really are a butt. Very often you'd rather be a butt than not a butt. I need to talk to you. I need to talk to someones. I need to tell someones what is happening in my head. I am not a tube. I need to share my ideas. I need to eject my mind from my skull. I need to put it out there. I want to spill my ideas. I've just kept them bottled up, letting them out in little bursts of song, because I write songs and do tubes write songs? Sure you can bang on a tube to write beats but an actual song? A tube? Writing a song? I am not a tube. Writing songs can take too long so that's why I'm just...writing. uhcourse getting thru all this tube stuff has taken so long I coulda written a whole lotta song. And a tube can't write a little song much less a lot uh song. I'm not a tube I'm not a tube, no no I'm not a tube. Holy rigatoni, this is goinggoingoin to go on forever isn't it, me? Nip it! Nip it in the bud! Get to it, me. Stop stalling, me. Get em idears out there, me! Gotta go. There is more to say. I didn't say what i wanted to say, and beca....i was on a rollhh. I didn't say what i wanted to say and because me not saying what i wanted to say was not said for so long, there's probably a whole lot more to say. And because i want to say what i want to say and have yet to say it...i'll be saying it. At some point in the futuretimes. Maybe, maybe in like two weeks. I didn't succeed today to say what needs saying but I will, and it will. What I'm trying to say is imma keep saying until what i want to say is said. There will be a lot of whatever this whole thing was along the way to saying what I want to say. I am sad to say there will be more tewbz. I'm absolutely sure of it. And the new tubes probably won't look like tubes, they will be disguised as something else. Like a baseball glove. Tubes and gloves were and will be an attempt to say what i want to say in a way that probabubbly shouldn't have been or should ever be said. I'm not going to apologize for trying but I'm sorry. Love, Nathan @lovethisnathan

[spn-rewrites]

01x12 (part 1)

Season One Episode Twelve: Faith

A/N: Alright, a quick note. my computer is effed up. The updates may start to slow down unfortunately until I can figure out how to fix this mess but they’ll still come, I promise. I love hearing from you guys, so please keep the feedback coming! Let me know of any ideas you guys have for future episodes, storylines, ect and as always, please REBLOG if you enjoyed. 

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: a hunt gone wrong, hospital beds, and another call to John.

`“What do you have those amped up to?” Sam asked as Dean rummaged through his trunk for the taser guns.

“100,000 volts,” Dean grinned, handing one to you and Sam and taking one for himself.

“Damn,” you commented, moving it around in your hands. You were careful with your

inspections and Dean filled his backpack up with any extra supplies you may need but truly, this was the one and only thing that could actually kill this thing.

“Yeah, I want this rawhead extra freakin’ crispy,” Dean mumbled and then looked at you, pointing the butt of his taser gun at you and dancing it between you and Sam. He was really only talking to you and you knew that. “Remember, you’ve only got one shot with these things, so you better make it count.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you mumbled with a little attitude laced in your voice at his reminder. You accidentally fire one of these prematurely once and you’ll never live it down. Dean closed the trunk to the Impala and you snuck your way into the old, creaky, house. It seemed to be abandoned for the most part, the floors hardly kept up with, garbage everywhere. You made your way to the basement, guns pointed and flashlights ready.

It was quiet until it wasn’t and there was a bang coming from one of the walls. All three of your flashlights instantly went to the noise and you crept closer to it. On the count of three, Dean pulled open the little door that you assumed led to a little crawlspace. You jumped when he opened it but relief flooded you when you saw it was two little kids.

One boy and one girl, shaking with their knees pulled to their chest. “Is it still here?” Sam asked, loosely looking over them for any obvious injuries. The boy nodded to his question and you gestured for them to stand up and get out of the crawlspace.

“Grab your sister’s hand. We’re gonna get you out of here,” Dean said. You put your hand on their backs, carefully walking them over to the stairs with Sam and Dean guarding your back. You and the kids made it to the landing but Sam’s groan was too loud in your ear and then there was a thud and some screaming and Sam tumbled down the stairs. “SAM!” You and Dean both called out for him. Dean shot his taser gun in the direction that he must have seen this thing but he missed.

Sam quickly got up and ran back up the stairs to you, tossing his taser gun at Dean. “Take this!” He ordered. Dean caught it easily, nodding towards you and his brother before you disappeared behind the corner and ran out of the house. Sam told you to stay put, guarding the entrance to the house while he secured the girls in the car.

You couldn’t hear much coming from the basement but you were anxiously waiting. Dean could handle himself was the mantra that you repeated over and over again while your leg shook in anticipation. “I’m gonna go back down there!” You called for Sam. He didn’t say anything, just waved a hand at you to give you the go ahead and you whipped around, running back down the stairs trying not to make too much noise but the second you saw Dean lying in the corner of the basement, unconscious, you ran.

You could feel a pulse on your fingertips but you didn’t know if it was his or just yours from your heart beating so quickly. He wouldn’t wake up, no matter how much you tried to shake him awake or slap his cheeks or begged him to. You knew you couldn’t carry him up the stairs alone and it felt like an eternity, you sitting there, checking for pulses on his neck and his wrists while crying out for Sam until he eventually showed up. He ran to your side, doing all the same steps that you just did until he grabbed him and helped you carry him to the car.

Getting the kids to safety was your first mission but it felt insignificant to you as you cradled Dean’s head in your lap in the front seat of the Impala. You tried not to cry now that you weren’t alone and you didn’t want to freak the kids out so you sniffled to yourself quietly until the kids got out of the car and then Sam and then Dean to take him into the hospital. It wasn’t until you were left alone in the car while Sam delivered him to the ER that you let yourself really, really cry. Like snot shooting out of your nose, not being able to tell the difference between snot and tears on the back of your hand, whole body shaking kind of cry. When you were done and your eyes were bloodshot and your nose was rosy, you went in to join Sam.

You and Sam were at the reception area, trying to figure out how to pay for this mess when the lady gave you a solemn look, “there doesn’t seem to be any insurance on file.” Sam mumbled a few words to himself, grabbing his wallet out of his pocket. He was just as shaken up as you, maybe even more but he was handling it much better. You hadn’t seen him cry but that didn’t mean he wasn’t and he handed the lady a credit card - stolen. “Okay, mister Berkovitz,” she said, reading the name on the card.

You looked over your shoulder at the policemen waiting, watching, staring at you. You pulled on Sam’s jacket after the lady went to run the card and made your way to the policemen. They gave you another solemn look and you were already tired of all the pity looks you were receiving from people. You wanted to be left alone. “We can, uh, finish this up later,” the policeman offered.

“No, it’s okay,” Sam told them, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket. “We were just taking a shortcut through the neighborhood and our windows were rolled down. We heard some screaming when we drove past the house, and we stopped and ran inside,” he explained the fake version of it all. The civilian version it.

“And found the kids in the basement?” The officer finished, you and Sam both nodded. “Well thank god that you did,” he said, offering you a proud smile. This was one of the more friendlier encounters with the police you’ve had in the past few years and you were disappointed that it was under such grave circumstances.

You heard a door opening from behind you and you excused yourself from the officers, Sam quickly following. The policemen yelled a thank you down the hall as you ran up to the doctor. “Is he-” You started but the doctor held out a hand, suggesting that you calm down. You took two deep breaths and then the doctor smiled.

“He’s resting,” he said.

“And?” You pushed.

“The electrocution triggered a heart attack - pretty massive, I’m afraid. His heart is damaged,” the doctor explained. You felt like your heart was damaged hearing that news. You felt Sam’s body tense up.

“How damaged?” Sam asked and you braced yourself for the worst news possible. You could see it in the doctor's eyes that that was coming. You wrapped your arm around Sam’s, leaning into him for comfort.

“We’ve done all that we can. We just need to try and keep him comfortable at this point but I’d give him a couple weeks at most, maybe a month,” he explained. You thought that you had cried all of your tears but more threatened to come. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest you thought that you were going to vomit all of the doctor’s white coat.

“No. There’s gotta be more that you can do,” Sam protested, his face falling and there they were: the tears. “Some kind of treatment,” Sam suggested.

“We can’t work miracles. I really am sorry.” Your lips parted and you could feel the tears streaking down your face and you felt paralyzed in that hallway with that doctor but Sam pushed you off of him and pushed past the doctor and into Dean’s room where the TV was lightly humming.

When you entered the room, Dean was mumbling something about daytime TV with his raspy voice that cut deep into your skin and left you bruised. You popped up behind Sam, who sighed and let out a sharp exhale. “We talked to your doctor,” he said.

“That fabric softener teddy bear. I wanna hunt that little bitch down,” Dean said, pursing out his lips as he changed the channel of the TV.

“Dean,” you warned. He rolled his eyes, putting the remote down on his lap.

“Looks like you guys are gonna have to leave town without me,” he said bluntly.

“What are you talking about? We’re not gonna leave you here,” you said, stepping out from behind Sam’s back, getting braver and braver but it was hard to see him in this condition. It was heart wrenching.

“You better take care of that car,” he warned. “I swear I’ll haunt your ass.”

“I don’t think that’s funny,” Sam said and you agreed but you bit your lip to prevent yourself from smiling.

“Oh come on, it’s a little bit funny.” You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh and Sam smiled, looking down at his feet. The room fell silent then and Dean let out a sigh. “Look, Sammy, what can I say, man? It’s a dangerous gig and I drew the short straw. That’s it, end of story.”

“Don’t talk like that, alright? We’ve still got options,” Sam pleaded with his brother. You knew just as well as Dean that there were no options but Sam would play the devil’s advocate until Dean died. He would always beat the horse too thin. Pray for a miracle that would never come.

“What options? You got burial or cremation,” Dean deadpanned.

“Hey,” you warned, shooting him a glare. He licked his lips, raised his eyebrows at you apologetically and then sighed again.

“I know it’s not easy but I’m gonna die. And you can’t stop it,” Dean said. He was the first one to really say it out loud. In those words. Sam’s face was scrunched up and red and you saw the tears pooling in his eyelid but you knew he wouldn’t let them fall around Dean. You put your hand on his forearm briefly and then sat on the edge of Dean’s bed.

“Watch me.”

The next few days were spent searching the internet and calling everyone in John’s journals to figure out a way to fix this, but Sam wasn’t sleeping and he wasn’t crying and you felt like maybe he was holding back for you because even when you were hiding in the bathroom, waiting for him to do something while he was alone - there was nothing. You couldn’t even hear him crying in the shower.

You were perched on the edge of the bed, the laptop on your lap while Sam tried John’s phone. No answer. “Hey dad, it’s Sam. Uh… You probably won’t even get this, but, uh, it’s Dean,” he started, his voice shaking and cracking. You closed the laptop and pushed it to the side. “He’s sick and the doctors say there’s nothing they can do.” He paused, his face scrunching up in pain. “But hey,” he chuckled, “they don’t know the things we know, right? So don’t worry, cuz I’m, uh, gonna do whatever it takes to get him better.” Sam kept hitting his ankle that was crossed over his knee and playing with the frayed ends. “All right, just wanted you to know.” Sam hung up and you were angry at John for not answering and not being here and making Sam do this alone.

“Hey,” you whispered, putting your hand on his shoulder. He jumped at your touch, almost like he forgot that you were even there but he softened when he looked at your face. You gave him a weak smile. “We’ll fix this, okay?” You promised him. It wasn’t something you could promise or that you should have promised but you did it anyway to make him feel better.

He pushed off the bed and started to pace around the room, running his hands through his dirty hair. He looked like such a mess. You could almost see the anger building up inside of him on his face. The way he squeezed his eyes shut, the way his lips were tight against each other. Sam turned around and in one swift motion, he cleaned the table clean of all the magazines and take out menus that littered it.

You jumped to your feet and put your hands on his biceps, coaching him to look at you. Begging him to look you in the eyes. When he finally did, you gave him another weak smile. “Breathe, okay? Please?” You asked. Sam licked his lips and then took a deep breath, nodding at you but when he let it out, he shook his head and crashed his body into yours.

You wrapped your arms around him and he squeezed you so tight you thought your head was going to pop off but you didn’t mind because that was Sam and you were willing to hold him for as long as he needed or wanted you to but a knock at the door broke the moment.

You sat him down on the bed and got the door yourself. “Dean?” His skin was pale and he was sweating even though it was cold outside and his body was pressed against the doorframe. “What the hell are you doing here?” You scolded him for leaving but the smile on Sam’s face when he saw him, made you regret it.

“I checked myself out,” he smirked, limping into the room, holding himself up with the chair.

“Are you crazy?” Sam asked but his face was filled with relief and joy that his brother was here with him. You knew just how crazy it made him think about Dean in that hospital bed, alone, watching daytime TV that he hated.

“I wasn’t going to die in a hospital, especially where the nurses aren’t even hot,” he joked as you closed the door behind him and helped him sit down in the chair. Neither of you laughed at his joke, but Dean still thought it was funny and he chuckled.

“You know, this whole “I laugh in the face of death” thing is crap. I can see right through it,” Sam told him, trying to scold or be serious but he was still smiling a little bit.

“Yeah, whatever, dude,” Dean rolled his eyes and adjusted his jacket so that he was comfortable and you couldn’t imagine that he was but he was putting on a brave face despite the fact that he looked like he was dying. “Have you even slept? You look worse than me,” he teased.

“He hasn’t,” you answered for Dean but giving Sam a glare. You had been begging him the last few days to just get a few moments of sleep and you would do the research for him but he insisted on staying up until he found a solution for his brother. Even as you slept, you could feel his body stirring next to you.

“I’ve been scouring the internet for the last three days. Been calling every contact in dad’s journal,” Sam explained, sitting down on the bed across from his brother. You sat next to him, pulling out the laptop and opening it up. There weren’t many solutions out there, but the one that you had so far, was pulled up on the computer.

“For what?” Dean groaned, visibly uncomfortable.

“For a way to help you. One of dad’s friends, Joshua, he called me back. He told me about a guy in Nebraska, a specialist,” Sam explained. You pulled up all the reports of the guy that you could find online, up, spinning the computer to show Dean. All the articles you could find showed nothing but good things. This guy healing people from even the brink of death.

Dean scanned the screen and shook his head, “you guys aren’t gonna let me die in peace, are you?” He asked.

“We’re not gonna let you die, period. We’re going.”

tagged: @matchamendes @stuckupstucky @sillydecoy @kaelyn-lobrutto24@liztorr1212 @icanreadbookstoo  @rachael-mae @jessewa26

[redvelvetreel]

Red Velvet Reel 9.3: Blue Ain’t (Usually) My Color

           [Fic Directory]

Pairing: [Married] Spicyhoney (Underfell Papyrus x Underswap Papyrus)

Summary: Stretch receives conflicting advice on how to go about fixing this. He decides to go the middle ground of big, heartfelt gestures that say ‘sorry’ without actually saying it. What could possibly go wrong?

Characters: Stretch (Underswap Papyrus) & Red (Underfell Sans)& Blue (Underswap Sans)

Contains: Mpreg/Skelepreg! Different monster cultural traditions between universes!  

Rating: Teen and up! (I guess?)

Note: Sorry this took me forever! In hindsight, I should have finished this part before starting my event, huh? I got like an ask or 2 left for that! I kinda wanna keep it up for fun tho, in case y’all have any other questions, but hmmm... idk! idk~

“Huh?” Red looked at him like he grew another head- that devious bastard was actually trying to act dumb! “Fuck ya talkin’-“

“I hurt Edge’s feelings, bad, so I gotta make all of this up to him.” Stretch shifted restlessly, “How do I apologize to him? What would a Fell monster do?”

“Fell don’t apologize, ‘cause Fell ain’t got no feelin’s! Just act normal ‘n like there ain’t nothin’ bad.” Red mimed brushing dust off of his jacket, “Ya forget? I forget. S’easy!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Blue crossed his arms over his chest, looking pensive, “You’re not Fell, and Edge won’t expect a Fell-style apology from you. Actually, he might be more hurt by the fact it looks like you don’t care.”

His face must have fallen, because Blue immediately continued, “So, I think you should just talk to him! Say you realized you hurt his feelings, apologize, and that you want to make it up to him!”

“Is this like a dungeon puzzle?” Stretch put his head on the table, “I don’t know. What question do I ask so I know which of you is lying and which of you is telling the truth?”

Distantly, he heard Blue explain over his head, hand patting his back, “It’s a movie reference.”

“Ok, whatever, we don’t got all fuckin’ day.” Red must have leaned on the table, because he sounded a lot closer in an instant, “Why don’tcha do both? Sorry by gettin’ Edge somethin’ nice ‘nstead a’pologizin’, yeah?”

“Like what?” Stretch turned his face onto the side of his arm with a dejected sigh, unable to muster the strength to lift his head. Trying to fight against biology was too much work- he was just gonna be an emotional mess for the rest of this quarter. Thanks a lot, Pancake.

“From you?” Red squinted at him, hand drumming on the table, “Uh, sing. One ‘a them cowboy songs.”

Stretch sat up abruptly, whacking at where his ears should have be. “Huh?!”

“Ya made a mixtape one Gyftmas, yeah?” Red knew about that?! Why did Red know about that?! “S’favorite gift ya ever gave. Goddamn brat listened to it fuckin’ thousand times.”

“That was a gag gift!” Stretch couldn’t believe it, a weird mix of touched and embarrassed and confused. “He wasn’t supposed to like it!!! I- I yodeled, man! There was a banjo- I don’t know how to play the banjo! I play the harboneica! I put so much ‘twang’ into the first like 3 songs I kept coughing throughout ‘I’ve got Spurs that Jingle Jangle Jingle!’ And you’re telling me he liked it?!” He dragged his hands down his face, wishing he could sink into the floor. (and still kinda weird pleased) “He listened to it! More than once?!”

Blue laughed lightly, turning his face away as though that were any less humiliating for his poor, embarrassed, put-upon brother, “I remember.” Why did Blue remember?! What did he remember?!

“Sorry, Papy,” Blue didn’t look or sound apologetic enough, “But you were singing at the top of yours lungs and you kept crashing into things. You were laughing almost the entire time, though, so I assumed you were having a good time.”

“Ughhhh...” Stretch tried to slide down the cushioned seats and onto the floor as Red and Blue snickered. Laughing at his expense. Traitors. “Is that what Edge liked about it so much? Making fun of me?”

“Ya damn well know that ain’t true.” Red wasn’t quite as smiley anymore.

“Then why-?”

“ ‘Cause he’s sappy as shit!” Red was at the end of his patience, bringing his hands down hard enough to shake the table, “He likes bein’ able to be soft with ya, ok?! All them singin’ bad ‘n dancin’ in the kitchen kinda shit! So pick yer noggin fer somethin’ sugary as hell ‘n just!” He gestured, articulating something Stretch could barely understand. “Fuckin’! Don’t apologize like a bitch! Seduce him like a nerd!”

“Ok!” This was sounding like a better and better plan! Be as charming and goofy and lovable romcom protagonist-y as possible, sweep Edge off his high heels, and get everything back to normal! With the added bonus of making Edge super happy and letting him know he was deeply, truly loved! Brilliant!

“Blue!” He turned to his brother, an excited twinkle to his eye, “How do I do that? What are the best romcom tropes and treats?”

“Um.” Blue’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment as Red leered at him, but he soldiered on, “You could leave him cute voice messages of you singing for him. Uh, he’s more of a savory person, so some biscuits or something from the Barkery might be nice. Balloons? Flowers? Everybody likes flowers!”

“Y’ain’t ever get me flowers.” Red teased, grin sharp.

“Stuffed animals are popular too.” Blue ignored him, “But make sure you’re tailoring it to his interests-“

“He likes dancin’!” Red moved his torso to some imaginary beat, but with that snickering, Stretch wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not. “S’Latin night somewhere! Merengue ‘n Salsa ‘n cumbias, nuerito! Real heat up with a bachata!”

“Yeah, ok! I don’t! Know! What half of those are! But ok!” This was going to be great! Stretch pulled his brother into a hug, kissing the top of his head, “You’re a genius, bro!”

He turned to his brother-in-law, “Red-”

Red backed himself into a corner when Stretch turned to him, holding his hand out, “Ain’t gonna letcha kiss me ‘fore buyin’ dinner, Honey.”

Stretch laughed at that, Soul feeling light and suddenly incredibly happy, shaking his brother-in-law’s hand... before clanking a kiss to the back of his hand anyway. Had to practice being as charming as possible, after all!

“Thanks guys!” He was up in a moment, bouncing on the heels of his high tops excitedly, “I’m gonna hit up the Barkery to get a special order in before they close! And the flower shop! And see what other cool stuff I can find!”

“Papy-“ Blue called out, “You still need to tell him why-“

“Don’t be givin’ all at once- draw shit out!” Red was louder, obviously riling Stretch up even further, “Keep ‘im guessin’!”

Stretch was already out the door, phone to his head and waving cheerily as he ran- literally ran- off. Blue sighed deeply.

“Whatcha wanna bet on?” Red was gleefully devious, worrying at a piece of g like the caricature villain he liked to project himself as. “How’sit gonna blow? Who’s gonna blow?”

“It’s rude and in poor taste to bet against your brother and brother-in-law’s happiness.” Blue told him primly, “So, I’ll bet a compliment to Edge, on a topic of your choosing, that Edge is going to contact me to ask what’s wrong with Papy-“

“I ain’t gonna take those odds!” Red crossed his arms petulantly, “S’fuckin’ rigged, tramposo!”

“Before he rips into you for outing his cowboy kink to my brother.” Blue finished with a coy smile, laying his hands flat on the table with a shrug. “But if you’re too chicken-“

“Hah!” Red’s smile was excited and bright as he put his own hands down, palms up, “That’s good! Hell if I know! I’ll betcha...” His fingers drummed on the table pensively, “Hm... Betcha an paternal encouragin’ fer Honey. Tell ‘im he’s gonna be a good Papa.”

“Yeah, okay,” Blue reached for the hand Red offered him, turning it carefully to make sure it wasn’t booby trapped. As soon as they shook on it, Red kicked him under the table- and he got a joy buzzer to the knee.

“I hate you!” Sputtering angrily, Blue rubbed at his knee, obviously trying to dispel the lingering numbness, “You’re such an asshole!”

“Love ya too, baby cakes.” Red blew him a kiss as he stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “Now hurry up ‘n grab ‘em napkins! Game’s comin’ on at 1:00, and I ain’t gonna miss it ‘cause you’re bein’ lazy.”

Red was already at the door, walking into a shortcut before he had to hear Blue cussing him out again.

FIN.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [ Part 3 - Here! ]