#yes I want to hear about literally anything in someone else’s life in vivid detail

[detentiontrack]

“Sage that’s none of your business” you see, I am physically and mentally incapable of minding my own business and I’ve never been able to mind my own business even once in my 19 years on this planet

[teawaffles]

The Fugitives from the Fire: Chapter 1

T/N: Takes place before Chapter 39 of the manga (“The Dark Night of London”). Also, in order to appreciate a certain plot point to the fullest, I would recommend reading Book 2 Story 4 (“It Happened One Night”) before starting this one.

TW for this story // All the elements you would expect from a murder mystery: injury, blood, mention of suicide, violence, death

——The moment Miss Hudson opened the door to his room, Sherlock let out a long, long sigh.

It sounded as if he was squeezing every inch of air out of his lungs.

“What is it, Miss Hudson.”

Sherlock was sunk deep into his armchair, newspaper in hand. As if she could feel a headache coming on, Miss Hudson pressed a hand to her forehead.

“Every single time — what’s going on in this room, Sherlock?”

Frowning, she looked around the flat this great detective shared with his assistant. As always, it was thoroughly in a mess. But as always, Sherlock gave his typical response.

“There isn’t anything to get that upset about, is there? Besides, I’m not doing any scientific experiments right now.”

“I can never understand your concept of hygiene: how do you manage to live among all this without batting an eye……? Anyway, at the very least, make sure it’s clean enough that you’re not embarrassed to let people in. In a sense, we are in the service industry, you know.”

Standing tall and firm in the doorway, she began to lecture Sherlock, when an enigmatic grin broke across his face.

“If a client turns away just upon seeing this, then doesn’t it reflect the triviality of their request? In other words, I’m trying to screen my clients as soon as they enter this room.”

“If you quibble on like that, you’re the one who’s going to get screened out by your clients and lose your income. I certainly detest the idea of allowing someone with no earnings to live here.”

She launched into a scathing rebuke of those lazy words, and Sherlock raised both hands in a gesture of temporary surrender.

“Alright. When John comes back, we’ll tidy up together,” he said, looking out the window.

At that perfunctory remark, Miss Hudson placed both hands on her hips.

“John-kun, John-kun — you never stop talking about him. At least, when it comes to cleaning, I’d like you to do it yourself even without anyone else telling you to. My heart truly goes out to your future wife.”

“No need to worry: I consider myself married to my work.” [1]

“……So that means, I’m going to have a bachelor living here for the rest of my life?”

She thought of herself in her old age, briskly caring for an elderly detective; at that unpleasantly vivid image, a chill ran down her spine. [2]

And so they went on and on like this, as they normally did — when all of a sudden, a knock came from the ground floor entrance. From Sherlock’s experience, a visit at this time was usually linked to a “riddle”.

“Yes yes, please hold on just a moment.”

Breaking off their conversation, Miss Hudson pattered down to the ground floor. Sherlock put his newspaper on the table, and listened as she answered the door.

Then, as he’d intuited, after they exchanged a few words at the entrance, someone promptly came up the stairs — he could hear it creaking — and a familiar face appeared at the open door.

Sherlock flashed him a bold grin.

“——Hey, Lestrade. Tough case?”

It was Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard. Sherlock had brought up a “tough” case as a matter of course, and to that, Lestrade gave a solemn nod.

“Exactly, Holmes. It’s a bit of a tricky one — I need your help.”

“Details?”

Skipping the pleasantries, Sherlock lit a cigarette, as he was wont to do. But Lestrade’s expression turned grave.

“Sorry, but it’s urgent: I don’t have time to fill you in right now. Can we talk in the carriage?”

“Wha? Hmm……”

Looking out the window at the street below, Sherlock began to sway restlessly.

“What’s wrong? Is there a problem?”

The detective didn’t have an immediate response, and as Lestrade questioned him, Sherlock began mumbling to no one in particular.

“Look, can’t you see John’s not here? ……Goddammit, seriously — where did he go?”

“…………”

Lestrade kept his expression sombre, but for a split second, even he nearly broke into laughter at that line. This eccentric man, who lacked scruples about troubling the people around him, had just admitted to feeling an ordinary emotion like loneliness — and it did feel a little odd.

Standing to the side, Miss Hudson also broke into a smile. For the man known as Sherlock Holmes, it seemed John H Watson had already become an inseparable part of his life.

Seeing their reactions, Sherlock narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“Oi, why’re you two smiling away? Did I say something weird?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Lestrade replied. “It’s just, that was an unexpected line coming from you, so I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t making fun of you. It’s good that you have such an irreplaceable friend.”

“That’s none of your concern…… Though, is there really no time to wait for John?”

In a flash, Lestrade’s expression reverted to its grim state.

“Sorry, but yes: I want to get going as soon as we can. However, if you need Dr Watson, we could wait a while longer……”

But Sherlock quickly waved his hand, interrupting Lestrade’s compromise.

“No, it’s fine. Anyway, I don’t know when he’s coming back. There’re times like this too.”

Saying that, he stubbed his barely-smoked cigarette in an ashtray, dressed himself and got ready to leave. Uttering a quick word of apology, together with the detective, Lestrade headed to the Brougham four-wheeled carriage waiting outside.

Placing one foot into the vehicle, Sherlock waved to Miss Hudson as she stood at the entrance.

“So, Miss Hudson: I’ll attend your marriage counselling session when I get back.”

“I don’t recall having ever mentioned such a thing?”

She smiled at Sherlock’s joke, concealing within it a quiet rage. As if fleeing from her terrifying presence, the two men set off in haste.

Footnotes:

[1] Oh yes I saw my chance and took it — this is a BBC Sherlock reference |ω･)ﾉ But to be super-precise, I’ve dug into the exact translation in the notes below.

Aside: There was another small reference back in Book 2 Story 1, when Sherlock told William that he was “flattered” :3

[2] This is actually hinted at in the original stories: when Sherlock retired in Sussex, he said he was living with his old housekeeper (Wikipedia)

Translator’s notes

That line about marriage

I took some liberty with that translation, so here’s a more pedantic version of it. The reference comes from Season 1 Episode 1 of BBC Sherlock (“A Study in Pink”), when Sherlock and John were having dinner in an Italian restaurant while on a case.

The line as written in the book: “俺にとっては仕事が嫁さんみたいなもんだからな”

(Because) to me, my work is like my wife.

The line from BBC Sherlock’s Japanese dub: “ジョン、僕は仕事と結婚したつもりだ。” (source)

(It’s a literal translation of the original line below)

The original line from BBC Sherlock: “John, I consider myself married to my work.”

Aside: The “flattered” reference comes from the line immediately after this one — “…and while I am flattered by your interest…”

[bloodypapercut]

common people (g.w. x reader)

hi loves! i’ve been listening to pulp so much and everytime common people plays i immediately think of george so i wanted to write something. i hope you all enjoy! <3

(requests are open)

word count: 2.8k

No prank, no act of mischief, no joke had ever managed to coerce the feelings that resided within George at that moment. The memory had been playing in his head for weeks since that day in Hogsmeade. The vivid image of her nose and cheeks dusted pink as snowflakes landed in her hair, her hand gripping at paper bag from Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop, and her hair whipping around her. He was consumed by her being, she radiated a sense of comfort and warmth that George had never felt from a complete stranger. She intrigued him in every imaginable way, he wanted to know everything about her, each sense in his body was heightened simply by being in her wake. It was the way she carried herself, something about it just seemed so different and enticing. He contemplated going up to her, but he knew with Fred right by his side it would not end well. So he watched from afar, unaware of Fred repeatedly kicking snow in his direction, a mediocre attempt on his behalf to capture his attention so they could go to Zonko’s.

It was breakfast, the bustle of knives and forks against plates, teaspoons against teacups, and the early morning chatter saturated with frivolous morning civility integrated into the usual dissonance of the great hall. George couldn’t bother to act interested in the conversation Fred and Lee tried to reel him into, whatever it was they were talking about was insipid compared to what he had in mind. Pushing around the strawberries on his plate with his fork, his head lulled against his palm, an attempt to subtly survey the room in order to find that girl from all those weeks ago. He’d seen her roaming the halls occasionally, or sitting hunched over a book quietly scribbling on a piece of parchment, or speaking in hushed tones to her housemates, none of it had helped his undying curiosity. She plagued his thoughts, he could relate almost anything to her somehow, despite the fact he had not once spoken to her. She was an enigma and he wanted nothing more than to know everything about her, to learn every habit, every favorite, and every detail.

He brought his cup of orange juice closer to his lips but as he looked around the room once again he saw her. She was leaving the great hall, a leather bag hanging on her shoulder loosely and a pile of books resting against her hip. There it was, that overwhelming cloak of emotions resting on his shoulders once again. Without thinking he rushed to her, no plan present in his mind.

“Hey, hi.” He panted, planted his hand against a pillar trying to catch his breath. She spun quickly, nearly dropping her books. As her gaze cast down at the hunched boy, she wondered what on earth he was doing saying hi to her, or if it was even directed at her.

“Hello? Um are you alright, you look a little red?”

“All for you love.” He winked, still struggling to steady his respiration. Her laugh was just as awkward as the situation and she tried her hardest to divert her attention to anything but the ginger in front of her. The crumbling stone walls, the rusty nails that the portraits hung on, the ornate handles on the classroom doors, she tried but she couldn’t. Because she was just as enthralled by his presence as he was with hers.

“I’ve seen you around.”

“So have I, Weasley.” She smiled warmly, an attempt to alleviate the tension.

“Is that right?”

“Indeed it is.” Another moment of uncomfortable silence followed.  

“Well, um anyway I was wondering if you’d like to go to the lake together sometime? If you want that is don’t feel pressured to say yes just because I asked you, it’s completely okay if you don’t-”

“Hey, calm down, yeah sure I don’t see why not.” The weight of her hand felt right against his forearm and he wanted to hold it in place forever, he grinned bashfully at her hand, which didn’t go unnoticed as she had squeezed his arm upon seeing his line of sight.

“4?”

“4.” She nodded before letting go of his arm and walking off, not bothering to glance over her shoulder.

After that afternoon together they became inseparable. Their lives orbit around the other and they learned everything there was to know about their partner, well almost. There was one thing she had kept from him, something that would normally be considered frivolous but in their case was quite the contrary. She hadn’t revealed that she was a part of the Rosier family, a pureblood family, similar to the Malfoys or the Blacks. Though she was treated with nothing but disdain for being a 'traitor' by her relatives, she was still technically a Rosier. She felt wrong for keeping it from him, but she never let that convince her to divulge her secret. She tried convincing herself that it wasn’t important, that it didn’t change anything. But she knew it did, it changed everything. No matter how many times she tried to delude herself, the intrusive thoughts that never stopped urging her to tell him continued their unabating blathering. Though she knew she never acted like them or shared their mentality, she knew how it would come across and she knew how George would react. A member of the Rosier family, a family known for possessing ostentatious pride due to their pureblood status dating someone part of a family deemed to be a stain on the sacred 28. Y/N was scared to lose everything she had with George, she was too afraid of the unknown so she kept it from him for as long as she could. That was a mistake, a huge one.

Everything seemed to be fine but one afternoon, when Y/N found that George wasn’t where they had agreed to meet she grew concerned. Her footsteps echoed as she ran to his dorm, worried he was hurt or in trouble.

“I know.”

“What are you talking about Georgie.” Her laughs were forced and stiff, she found it unusual for him to be so solemn. But as his shoulders deflated and his back hunched over his book she knew something was wrong, and she knew what it was. Before he could utter a single word she had already started berating herself in her head. How could one be so selfish? So inconsiderate and dull?

“You never told me? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” The incessant beating of her heart filled her ears, almost deafening her and making her unable to hear George’s voice, the voice that was usually filled with joy now sounded devastated and tumultuous. Tears had already threatened to cascade both of their cheeks and it was just a matter of time before someone started weeping.

“I didn’t think it mattered, I just wa-”

“But it does matter. It matters so much, are you completely oblivious to how the world works? How unfair it is to people like me? To people in my family? We’re a joke to people like you, so what was this all about?”

“I- George I’m with you because I love you, that’s all I swear. I’m not like them, I’m not.”

“So why'd you hide it then? Why couldn’t you just tell me?” His voice was hushed and fragile, he struggled to keep a steady tone, by instinct he remained stoic but his voice revealed how betrayed he felt.

“I just wanted a simple life, where it didn't matter your last name or your class or your blood purity, I didn’t want this to change our relationship. I wanted to be like everyone else. I want the future we always talk about, I don't care for any of that pureblood mania.”

“No! No you can’t say that not when you’re literally in one of the most prestigious and honored pureblood families. You don’t understand how bloody lucky you are Y/N! Honestly, have you ever realized that? You can do whatever you want and even if you fail you will never fall on your arse, but me, no I can’t do that if I failed I’m fucked. You can get away with anything with a simple call to your father, you can buy your way to the top. Why would you hide this from me? All this time, was I some charity case? Did your family force you to be with me just to get dirt on mine?”

“What? No! George! No...I just didn’t want this to change things and I’m sorry I’m so so sorry, I love you so much I was just scared please .”

“You’re just like the rest of them.”

“Oh, I- if that’s what you think, I’ll just leave you be, I’m sorry.” With her head hung low and tears clouding her vision she made haste to locate the doorknob and rush out of his room. She ignored the frantic footsteps and calls of worry from Hermione and Harry as she bulleted out of the common room. She ignored Fred and Lee who were sitting on the bench in a corridor as they scribbled onto sheets of parchment, she ignored Luna who tried to grab her attention, and Cho, and Angelina, and Neville, everyone, she was verklempt and if anyone even gave her a look of sympathy she knew she’d break down in tears.

The rest of the afternoon she stayed quietly in her bed, curled up in a ball with crumpled tissues surrounding her. She felt guilty for crying, she had brought this onto herself. That didn’t stop her though because upon realizing what she had done, the image of George so distraught, so disappointed, plagued her mind and broke her heart even more. It was something that would plague her memories forever. It was ruined, they were ruined.

Days dragged like molasses dripping from a spoon, every walk between class there he’d be, leaning against a pillar while throwing his head back in laughter, or during meal times, his arms flailing as he retold a story about a prank, or in the library his head lulling to the side as he waited for Fred to determine the missing ingredient for a potion they wanted to perfect before selling it. It hurt her, seeing that he was completely fine without her, like everything was normal. He was everywhere, and even if he wasn’t physically, mentally he was. The words rang in her ears again and again ‘you’re just like the rest of them,’ it stung each time it repeated. She was starting to believe that she was just as bad as they are, just as selfish and malevolent and spiteful. It clawed at the abyss of her mind, dragging her entire being into a spiral of endless darkness.

The air was cold, the kind that nipped at all your nose and made it hard to breathe. The walk from Y/N’s potions class to herbology wasn’t pleasant as her fingers turned numb and red. The stone flooring crumbled under her black school shoes as she kicked the pieces that already broke off. She watched as the pebbles ricocheted from the toe of the black vinyl to a slightly elevated stone tile, she’d focus on anything but the things that lingered in her subconscious. It had been working in her favor for the past couple of weeks, or months, she couldn’t really tell, everything blurred into one continuous string of agonizing events. She found herself being unaware of what was in front of her because without even realizing it she bumped directly into the boy she’d been trying to make sure her thoughts were devoid of. On instinct, his arms immediately gripped her forearms and her hands pressed against his chest. Time moved slower than ever as their eyes slowly raked up from where their hands were to the eyes of who they were on. They scrambled from each other, muttering pathetic ‘sorry’s and speed walking with promptitude to opposite ends of the corridor.

The worst part was that no matter how often they tried to steer away from the other, they’d always cross each other's path. It got to the point where they weren’t even trying to hide their yearning to talk, they’d openly send longing stares but would never act on their desires. So much was unsaid and they realized they couldn’t just leave how things were, they had to talk about where they stood. The conclusion of that conversation was unclear and that’s what frightened them the most. The reality was that every day they refused to communicate out of obdurate pride, their relationship became more and more decrepit. George felt doltish and penitent, he didn’t mean what he said, he was hurt, angry and confused. Y/N felt guilty, she hurt the love of her life due to her selfish wishes to avoid confrontation.

It had been about 2 months, 2 agonizing, and treacherous months. George finally cracked, and much like the way things had started between them, he was looking for her in the great hall. He searched, pushing himself up slightly against the table, for any sign of her, anyone who would know where she was. It didn’t take long as he found Luna’s prolific hair, and there she was sitting right next to her. He could see her pushing around the vegetables on the golden plate in front of her, her cheek resting in her palm as a dejected countenance presented itself on her face. It saddened him to see her beautiful face so full of despondency. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to talk to her, he’d gone crazy without her. He abhorred pretending it didn’t phase him when he wasn’t with her, she had become a vital part of his life in such a short time. He knew she meant well. He wanted to fix things, he had to. Swiftly George dug through Ron’s back to grab a piece of parchment and scribbled using the quill Hermione was using, to the both of their dismays. He acted before he could fully process what his plan was because before he knew it he was faced with Y/N. Her eyes widened upon his arrival but before she could think of anything to say he placed the folded piece of parchment in front of her plate and dashed to the Gryffindor table. Dropping her fork she unfolded the parchment and smiled softly at the scraggly writing she adored so much.

'Astronomy Tower at 8?'

-----

She feared that she'd collapse as she feebly made her way up the steps to the astronomy tower. Her gloved hand held the note firmly, hoping that there was still a chance for them to fix everything. As she rounded the corner to ascend the final steps she found George sitting there.

"Y/N, you came" He breathed out, almost in disbelief.

"I'll take any chance to see you again." She mentally berated herself for saying something so sappy, but she noticed his eyes widen and his back straighten slightly.

"You're early."

"So are you."

"Yeah, I- uh yeah. I wanted to make sure I didn't miss you." A heavy silence fell upon them and they bore holes into each other with their apprehensive stares, waiting to see who would speak first.

"I'm sorry." "I'm sorry." They blurted at the same time, but Y/N nodded for him to continue.

"I didn't mean it, any of it. You're nothing like them I know that, just shocked me y'know? I should've never said those cruel, demeaning things to you, I know who you really are and I love you. Merlin, I'm so deeply and madly in love with you, and I really hope I haven't screwed us up. I understand if you don't want to get back together, after everything, but please if there is still a part of you that wants 'us' to happen again, tell me."

She nodded enthusiastically throwing herself into George's direction, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face between his shoulder and neck. He immediately pulled back slightly to grab her face with his hands, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs. He pressed his forehead against hers and smiled so hard his face hurt.

"I meant everything I said, about the future and wanting to spend it with you. My mother and father...they're relatives but not family, they've never felt like home the way that you do." She felt him nod against her forehead. He held her chin between his index and thumb, tilting her head so her lips met his. He ghosted his lips over hers, brushing past them before connecting them softly. The warmth he's always felt ever since he saw her returned, and it cloaked his senses as he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. After minutes of fervently compensating for lost time, with roaming hands and whispers or repeated 'i love you's and plans for their future, they pulled apart. Standing in silence in each other's embrace, they knew they'd make it through all the tumultuous times ahead because they had each other.

[moon-lixie]

Yes, he had been aware that it was the literal end of the world, but to hear that he only had so little time left made everything appear clearer in front of his now blurry sight.

word count: 3.699k

warnings: mentions of riots and guns.

genre: apocalyptic AU, slight enemies to lovers, fluff.

song: moya- Godspeed You! Black Emperor

The sound of the tv in the background didn’t allow Seungmin to concentrate on the only thing that seemed to matter to him at that moment, you.

What met his wide eyes was the familiar cream white walls that he could only associate with his home, because that’s exactly where he was, in his childhood house while you were away, not awfully so but still not close enough for him to reach out to you in the way he wanted.

If he had learnt something from this situation it was that he didn’t have many instances he would like to go back and fix, and that he had always seen you in the wrong way. Either because he liked living in denial or because —without noticing— he had become the most dense person to have ever existed.

And it was infuriating that he had only noticed now, having had plenty of time before he had only come to the realisation because of the end of—

The volume of the tv became louder and he had to bite back his urge to belligerently ask his parents to turn it down when he heard what was being said on the news.

‘Specialists have estimated that we have only 48 hours left before it becomes impossible to leave our houses due to the radiation. People have apparently taken this ultimatum just as predicted by many as unprecedentedly violent riots have started breaking out all across the globe,’ the woman on the news channel said, wearing a cool expression that he wished he could also keep in a situation like this.

On the screen various photos and videos of chaos flashed in an instance, flooding the small living room with an orange glimmer that came from the flames he saw as mere pixels.

Seungmin’s blood ran completely cold; yes, he had been aware that it was the literal end of the world, but to hear that he only had so little time left made everything appear clearer in front of his now blurry sight.

The first tear travelled down his left cheek and impacted against the wooden floor right when the barking of what sounded like all the dogs of the neighbourhood started resonating with force and alarm.

Hell was breaking loose not only all across the world but in his chest too, he felt too many and yet so little at the same time. His body began moving on an impulse as he took long strides towards the white entrance door. Feeling excessively heavy he let his weight fall to the ground as he sat and put his shoes on, taking special care of making a double knot on the shoelaces of the black converse he had been wearing the night before when he arrived.

It was hard but he still managed to stand up and open the door hastily; ignoring the questioning voice of his mother he began sprinting towards the sidewalk where some of the people he had grown up seeing greet him with vibrant smiles now wearing cold expressions and getting inside their cars with a definite goal in mind.

He couldn’t care less about getting his hands on material objects; just as before, he felt pleased with his life and the things he had, that sentiment wouldn't change just because his life was close to reaching its end.

The night before he had fallen asleep in his parent's room as they had all cried their eyes out and confessed the love they were already aware of. But now he needed to make one last confession, and that’s why he had to reach your side before it was too late. That’s the only reason why he ran.

The pavement punched his soles as his steps increased its pace, every step resonated against every centimetre of his body as he tried to move faster. His heart was beating on his throat and he knew it wasn’t because he was exhausted, he had just begun running after all, it had all to do with the words he had never wanted to say until today.

Desperately he wanted to figure out when had this feeling on his chest begun, when and how? And the current situation suddenly felt like the best way to figure it out, because as he felt the air hit against his face and knew the world was slowly crumbling around him, he felt like he was not only rushing to you but through memories as well.

He knew for sure that his feelings had nothing to do with that evening in the park back when you were both kids. Your hands wrapped tight around the handles of the mint green bike he had pointed out was hideous just because you seemed to love it so much, eyes soaked with innocence wavering with nervousness and little white sneakers sitting on the pedals.

The memory was quite vivid, how you had taken various deep breaths before your hesitant glare turned to one of determination and you voiced out that you were in fact ready to try on your own.

Your father let go of your bike and you began pedalling, screaming out in joy as you managed to move forward the first two meters completely unscratched before you fell. The consequences of your bravery were a scraped knee and tears that dried fast as you refused to keep crying when he started making fun of your fall.

Neither did it seem to be related with all of those petty fights that had taken place at school back when you felt like you were on top of the world with a perfect score on the chemistry test everyone else had flunked.

All of those instances in which he had gotten to erase a smug smirk from your lips came rushing back, specifically on those midterm tests where he had managed to get an almost perfect score on every single subject after having spent the prior three nights staying up until ungodly hours just to study. Because he wanted to win.

No, he wanted you to see him, even if it meant you were mad at him because he had outperformed you, he wanted to have your undivided attention if only for a couple of minutes and he cursed himself for not knowing better than to annoy you in order to get it.

The feeling constricting his chest had a lot to do with that evening in the eighth grade where the moon shone with a special glimmer. The park that had witnessed the both of you bicker and tease each other endlessly was then completely quiet while it cradled two teenagers sitting on the swings.

It had been around the time where you both seemed to come to terms with your stupid rivarly and accepted that it was just the way you two functioned. And so the late night meetings and the sitting together at lunch with your other mutual friends had become so usual that many times you had both taken it for granted.

“I kissed Felix, well, he kissed me,” you confessed, wearing a dumb grin on your lips, your eyes holding every star that had previously been on the sky that faced the unpleasant feeling harboring on his chest.

He was sure it had a lot to do with the bitter taste that congratulating you for it had left at the back of his mouth, and the annoyance he felt for the following weeks when he faced his freckled friend, because Felix had been your first kiss and not him.

A loud shattering sound interrupted his thoughts, he looked towards his right side without stopping for a second, being met with the image of one of his middle school classmates breaking the window of one of the establishments that were near your favourite ice cream spot downtown.

He hadn’t realized how far he had come while running, not even his ragged breath had done much to bring him out of his daze as opposed to the chaos that was turning his hometown into something that must look like hell.

Completely mortified was an understatement to explain how he felt about the situation, but he at least had the comfort of knowing that both you and his parents were far away from this mayhem, even if that meant he still had a considerable way to go before reaching you.

Nothing could stop him or at least that is what he thought before a flying tv crossed his eyesight, he stopped immediately, almost not being able to dodge the shoe that was thrown into someone else’s direction right after.

He would’ve laughed at the absurdity of both objects crossing his eyesight if it hadn’t been for a loud crash that made reality wash over him once and for all. Turning around he witnessed a blue pickup truck being consumed by greedy flames that threatened not to leave anything behind for the owner of the vehicle.

Right after, he became aware of the hysterical screams of everyone around him and just how many people were there running without a destination and taking as many things as they could hold in their hands.

Deep inside he wished there was a way to make all of this stop but he soon regretted that wish when a gunshot rippled over the loud voices. The world came to a stop for a second as some threw themselves to the floor and covered their heads —Seungmin included— and some others froze in place.

The chaos resumed soon after when the people still standing began running once again without direction, pushing each other and trying to pick up things others allowed to fall from their arms as they tried to escape.

He was trembling on the floor, eyes wide open and trying to take in every last detail he could. The person who had shot was standing on top of a black car, holding a handgun he definitely shouldn’t have. Their eyes were closed as he aimed somewhere else and he shot again.

Another wave of screams filled the city and he choked back a sob as he began crawling on the cold pavement. The sleeves of his jacket were picking up all the dirt of the floor and becoming stained perhaps forever, but that was the least of his worries.

His current goal was reaching the other sidewalk where some small houses were spread in order to keep himself alive, at least he thought that was his best shot for now.

The world seemed to want to prove him wrong, a blaring shriek uncovered that his crawling plan wasn’t fool proof. Beside him a car had barely managed to stop on time not to impact against him.

For what felt like a couple of minutes all he could see were the blinding yellow lights, his body completely frozen and unwilling to react even when his mind screamed that he needed to move.

“Are you alright?” asked a robust man that had stepped outside of the car and kneeled in front of him. And the answer was no, he wasn’t alright, nobody was, hell was consuming every inch of that place and he had no time to spare, not even 48 hours because he might just not make it through another one.

He should thank the man for taking its time to check on him even when Seungmin himself wouldn’t have stepped down from the car if he saw such atrocities taking place, but all he could do was stand up and run with all of his might.

One blue fence looked like the best place to hide behind, not that much as he tried to climb it and ended up falling to the floor where plush grass met his back and elbows. Thankfully he hadn’t hit his head.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he allowed his head to rest back atop the grass. In front of his eyes the sky had begun turning grey, the warning of yet another inconvenience waiting around the corner.

The unsuccessful attempt at climbing the fence had reminded him of that time he had tried to sneak to your house along with Jisung and Felix, who had planned to climb the fence of your backyard and then come inside from the back door that you would be waiting by.

Of course he had fallen to the floor just like now, grunting more loudly than he should’ve if your parents were asleep and unaware of their presence there —which they weren’t.

You had run towards him with a mocking grin on your face and told him, “you need to stop trying to be interesting because this is all you get from it. Just stick to your books and stay away from any physical activity.”

“Shut up,” he had scowled while sitting up, “I’m more athletic than you.”

“I apologize if I hurt your ego, mister star of the baseball team. But I’m pretty sure the fence did a better job at that than I could.” And he hated that you were right as much as he hated you and your stupidly pretty smile that would appear whenever you were amused.

Taking a deep breath he stood up with more determination than he had when he was in the middle of the main street. He had to make it there and tell you how he felt, even if it was the literal last thing that he managed to do.

He circled the small house and got out through the back door of the yard, taking special care of locking it afterwards, thinking of it as a favour he could do for the people that surely were inside that house facing the horror of the collective hysteria.

There was no time to waste, that was the only certainty that humankind had been given and so he resumed his running, pushing his tired legs to make the most of all of those years of being on the baseball team because that had to be worth something, right?

While running he had always allowed his mind to drift to wherever it pleased, especially back in high school on the early trainings where his coach would send them to run three laps around the school.

Right then and there his mind went back in time once again, this time to a similar instance to the one he underwent. It was in the middle of training when he had heard you had injured yourself and Jisung had taken you to the infirmary.

Of course the worried Felix forgot to mention that you had only twisted your ankle while going down the stairs, nothing more and nothing else. The days that followed he found himself wondering if he would have ran with such desperation if he had been aware of that detail or if he perhaps would’ve experienced the same need of having to see you.

He ran and ran, up the stairs and through the hallways where he had previously scolded people for doing so, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t slow down until he saw you were alright; and when he finally made sure of it, it was his heart that would refuse to slow down.

After making sure you were okay he had waited by your side, cracking light hearted jokes and making fun of you for being so clumsy when in reality all that he wanted was to hold your hand and sigh loudly in relief. He was such a big idiot for not realising it sooner.

He had always been too scared, of you and especially of the things you made him feel that he couldn’t quite put into words; never knowing exactly how to act around you he had acted like an idiot on many occasions. Not that he was the only one at fault, you could be pretty rude too when you put your mind to it.

Just like at that party in your senior year of high school in which everyone had agreed to the genius idea of playing spin the bottle, which had ultimately resulted in the both of you cramped inside Jisung’s messy closet.

“We don’t have to do anything, in fact, I won’t even touch you so you don’t have to be worried,” he had told you, trying to avoid looking directly at your eyes that were too close for comfort.

“Just say that you’re a coward and stop trying to pretend you’re not doing anything to be a gentleman.” The tone of your voice was outright mocking and it made his blood boil with annoyance.

“I’m not a coward,” he retorted almost right away, “as a matter of fact I could kiss you right here and now but I won’t because you’re going to make a fuss just like you always do.”

What was it about the presence of the other that always made the both of you turn into childish idiots and take stupid decisions? He sincerely had no idea but it happened again after you spoke next. “You don’t have the guts to do it.”

“Watch me.”

The skin of your cheeks felt searing against his palms; your loud friends outside seemed to go silent as if they had a way of knowing he was leaning ever so slowly towards you.

Once he could feel your breath fanning over his lips he looked at your eyes, asking for permission despite his initial impulse of just proving you wrong. You nodded softly before closing your eyes and he finally did it, he kissed you like he had wanted to do since god knows when.

Your lips moved softly against his, warming up his chest and the now rosy skin of his cheeks. He wanted to stay there forever and kiss you until he had robbed you of every breath you could have but you pushed away before he had the chance to.

Confusion had been painted clearly on his face but you didn’t even seem to notice or you simply didn’t care as you pushed open the doors of the closet and loudly declared that the idea was so stupid that you wouldn’t go throught wiht it, that you didn’t want to kiss him not for seven minutes or seven seconds when all he wanted then was to kiss you forever.

Stupid Seungmin, stupid. He chanted in his head as he saw the building of your apartment come closer with every single one of his steps.

He should’ve kissed you more, asked you to prom, he should’ve insisted on hugging you a bit longer the last time you both saw each other, he should’ve told you he loved you, he needed to.

Upon entering the building on the outside of the city where you had decided to settle a year ago, he looked around only to find an eerie silence greeting him. The place wasn’t particularly lively, but this was a contrast that made him shiver.

He looked towards the elevator and quickly discarded that idea, he still remembered how he had to carry box after box up the stairs when you moved here because the elevator was “temporarily” out of order; what the landlord had forgotten to mention was that temporarily meant always for him.

You lived on the fifth floor which usually didn’t present much of an inconvenience but having run across the whole city he felt like his knees were about to give up and no amount of determination could push them to function any better. Nevertheless you were so close already that he couldn’t even think of giving up.

Kim Seungmin had never been one to quit easily nor one to let anxiety persuade him from going after he wanted, and so, mind set on staying true to himself and being well aware that he had nothing else to lose, he knocked on your door three times, just like he always used to.

A couple of minutes passed by until he heard a loud gasp behind the door before he saw you step outside into the hallway with a confused expression painting your beautiful face different from what he remembered.

Was it silly that he just wanted to see you smile?

“What are you doing h—” Your sentence was cut short by the sobs that escaped from in between his lips once he hugged you close to his chest.

He had made a recount of every moment he had spent with you, about every touch and every word you had ever exchanged and used it as a fuel to run away from the chaos that could’ve killed him and all he wanted was you.

Despite all the chaos, hysteria, despite the end of the world, he had run all the way there just because of you.

“I love you,” he said once he had calmed down and you had pulled him inside your apartment, “I love you so much and I was the biggest idiot in the world for not noticing sooner.”

With him your gaze was rarely as soft and comforting as the one you gave him now, with him things had always been complicated because both decided to play dumb, he knew that now.

Your hand travelled to brush his hair away from his face and ultimately to cup the left side of his face where a small scratch had slipped its way on his face on his way there. He melted into the touch and closed his eyes feeling a foreign pain begin taking over his chest.

“The world is ending and you ran all the way here?” you asked seemingly amused, though he couldn’t ignore the slightly worried undertone to your comment.

“I don’t care, I love you,” he whispered back, like a broken record, he believed himself only capable of repeating those three words over and over again.

“You’ve always been an idiot.” Your eyes were filled with tears as you hugged him and brought his head to rest on your shoulder. “But I love you too.”

He began crying once again, because he was terrified and amazingly regretful of not telling you before. But despite of the world falling apart, he finally had you.

[newtedison]

my thoughts on the crank palace

i touched about this a bit on twitter (@newtedison_) but i figured i would Try and touch on my points more here (spoilers obv) again, its sort of lengthy

1. im gonna start with talking about the ending because i need to get it out of the way. either i havent read the books in a while and i forgot some canon (which could very well be true, i literally forgot that Bliss was a thing) or this ending makes no sense and is (somehow) setting up for a tdc sequel? so first off, newt was shot in the Head with a Bullet and somehow didnt immediately die? i know that that can happen in real life but it just seems so unlikely that not only would he not die, but he would survive long enough for someone from WCKD to transport him back to their labs and try to revive him. and who the fuck was he talking to? did thomas get newt’s journal at some point and i just dont remember? like i said, either im forgetting stuff or this ending doesnt make sense and is setting up a sequel which...i’ll get to later

2. why was this written? like, what was the point? i understand that this wasnt going to be all sunshine and rainbows but i feel like i was reading torture porn. like, literally all that happens is newt gets tortured (which is described in detail) by WCKD soldiers, has bouts of insane-fueled rage where he KILLS MULTIPLE PEOPLE, and then he dies. ??? what did this contribute to the canon? what was this trying to accomplish? truthfully, i never really wanted a newt-POV...well, anything except for maybe those little nuggets he wrote some time ago. but even if i HAD wanted a newt-POV novella, this is not what i would have wanted. he KNOWS that newt is almost universally the most loved character in this franchise. you can tell because he constantly uses him as a way to get fans in his good graces again. so why on earth would he take that character that so many people love and write a novella where its torture porn and a descent into madness before death? i am not interested in that At All. i’ve read fics (and even written a drabble) where newt is a Crank, and those were more respectful and easier to read than tcp. the parts where newt is having bouts of the Flare were literally exhausting to read; it was described in such vivid and torturous detail that it made me sick reading it. and it didnt help that newt is a character i care a lot about. i didn’t need to know what becoming a Crank felt like. the way it was described in the other books (and even the movies) told me everything i needed to know. the way thomas and everyone found newt at the crank palace in tdc and hes described as obviously not well, but not knowing what exactly happened to him...thats good enough on its own. the mystery of what exactly newt had to endure is part of what gives his journey more emotional depth. not everything needs to be written out and explained. not every gap needs to be filled in. 

3. me saying “the characterization felt off” is going to make some people roll their eyes because ‘duh, sami, the characterization will be off because he’s going insane’ to which i say...exactly. we weren’t really reading a newt-POV novella, were we? even if he isn’t past the Gone in the beginning, hes clearly not the same person we knew him as. the whole novella felt like an uncanny valley situation; i knew i was supposed to be reading about newt, but it felt like i was reading about someone else who looked like him. and that is part of what made this such a disconnect and made me lose interest at parts. not only that, but the world building and lore is inconsistent. newt makes a comment about how it used to rain in the glade, and apparently (as ive been told) that is simply not true. keisha having somehow working cell phone that magically connects her to her family also doesnt make sense. how would they have each others’ numbers? what are the odds that they BOTH found working cell phones in an apocalypse? i get that its a novella but you cant just throw something that crazy in there as a plot convenience. actually work on your plot and world building in a cohesive way, please. and another thing that doesnt make sense...

4. ...is newt finding out that sonya is his sister. if there was anything i would have wanted from a newt-pov novella, it would have been this. him finding out that not only is sonya his sister, but he already knows her post-WCKD. something that would have made this novella actually captivating, contributing something worthwhile to the canon that i would actually want to read, is if newt found out while in the crank palace that sonya was his sister; the Flare would remove that part of the Slice in his brain, and he would realize it was her. then, knowing that he couldnt go past the Gone before seeing her, he would try to find a way to get back to her. he could learn this after thomas and everyone originally see him, so it could match up with the canon. and then, by the time 250 comes along, hes lost all hope of that actually happening, and lashes out to thomas in a fit of rage. the journey of him trying to find his ACTUAL sister would have meant more to me than the story of keisha and dante. trust me, i love a found family trope as much as the next girl. but this series is FULL of the found family trope. it pretty much is the backbone of the franchise. so to see a blood family dynamic would have been a refreshing change of pace that i actually would have been interested in reading. also, the way that newt DOES find out about sonya is...underwhelming. he just randomly says “you remind me of my sister, sonya” to keisha in the WCKD truck. first of all, sonya is not the name you would actually know her by. you would know her by her birth name (which is lizzy? elizabeth?). second, why does he act like he didnt already meet her in the series? when the WCKD doctor tells him sonya is his sister and is alive, hes so surprised. wouldn’t he have known that already? why is there not more emphasis on the fact he already met her? that would have been a really interesting dynamic to explore, and im sad they didnt

5. the pacing and dialogue of tcp is so dragged out. i remember specifically there was a section where newt goes to talk to keisha after she starts abandoning dante, and i swear to god there was a page and a half of text before anything ACTUALLY happened or anyone ACTUALLY said anything. dashner described a launcher at one point as “the energy dependent electric firing projectile device.” that’s SIX words to describe a stun gun. a fucking stun gun! we know what it is! why did you have to use six words??? it just felt like everything was dragged and stretched to the longest it could possibly be and it added to the exhaustion i felt while reading it

6. okay i cant end it without talking about newtmas. its very obvious by now that newtmas is a VERY large part of this fanbase. its clearly the most popular ship and what keeps a lot of people interested in this series. even the marketing team for the MOVIES used newtmas as a advertising tactic (i.e.; using thomas and newt standing face to face as a thumbnail for the trailer, emphasizing newtmas based questions in interviews, even making a fucking facebook memories video for them. yes that last one is real). not only does dashner use newt as a way to lure fans in; he also uses newtmas. the parts that were sprinkled into this were so obvious that it didnt feel authentic. i cant speak for the original trilogy; i dont know the culture around ships back then, and i dont know how much it influenced his writing at the time. but the scenes in those books felt more genuine than tcp. by genuine i mean; he wrote scenes without a relationship in mind, but the chemistry had noticeable subtext that, while unintentional, was largely agreed upon by the larger audience. the parts of newtmas he added into tcp felt artificial and forced, likely as a way for people to take snippets of and use as a free marketing tool for him. one example you might have already seen; “he had already gotten used to his post-thomas, post-WCKD life.” the fact that dashner SPECIFICALLY used the phrase “post-thomas” rather than “post-his friends” or something similar shows that he is using newtmas as a hook on purpose. not only that, but to make newt’s last thoughts as he died “tommy. tommy will understand...” is...wow. first of all, i never wanted to know what newt’s dying thoughts were, but thanks, i guess? and second, when we all initially thought newt died underneath thomas with a gun to his head, i was pretty much inferred that newts last thoughts would probably be about thomas; they would sort of have to be, given the circumstances. so adding that in gives me the same feeling that “i’m coming for you, newt” at the end of the fever code gave me. not as offensive, but written very much on purpose. and the ending is implying that there will somehow be a sequel where thomas gets newt’s journal from...someone. at this point, i can only think that this sequel will retroactively make newtmas canon somehow. now that newt has been confirmed as gay, it could happen. which brings me to my last point...

7. hearing dashner confirm newt is gay was already mind-boggling before. now that i’ve read the crank palace...im angry. im very angry. i think its safe to say that newt is the character that suffers the most in this series. you can argue with me but hes definitely high on the list, if not #1. so; you take this character. you give him a horribly sad arc in the original trilogy, then decide to expand upon it and tell us, your largely QUEER fanbase, exactly how painful and torturous his last days were, in detail. and then you tell us he’s gay. something that is never mentioned in the canon, only in an offhanded reply to a tweet of someone calling you out. on a base level, i can understand why people would be happy. representation (i guess), seeing themselves in the character, having their headcanons be confirmed. great. but what i see is you telling your largely queer fanbase “hey, you see the only confirmed gay character? im going to literally write torture porn about him before killing him off and offer it to you like im providing a service to your community.” how fucked up is that? “hey, kids, if youre gay, you WILL be violently tortured and become violent and a danger to the ones you love. then you will die and your love will never be reciprocated.” what a message! and if he DOES end up retroactively making newtmas “canon” in some weird sequel...i will start foaming at the mouth. THIS is an example of how not all queer representation is good or genuine.

i’ve definitely forgotten some points but this is long enough already. let me know if you agree or if theres anything else you want to add! im interested in what you guys think

(8. I JUST REMEMBERED!!! if WCKD needed to study newt so bad bc sonya is his sister and is immune while he isnt, why did they let him run around the crank palace in the first place??? you cant test his vitals or anything you’re literally just watching him. what is the point????)

[russian-romanova]

reunion

title: reunion

pairing: jack kline

word count: 2K

warnings: major spoilers for 15x11, adult language, mentions of major character death

notes: this is just a short little thing i wanted to get out there. i’m so happy he’s back, guys. 

summary: after what seems like a hundred eons, he’s back. your jack kline is back. 

+         +          +

When Castiel had come into your room with news of a case, your heart had dropped at the details. He had knocked politely on the doorframe and walked inside, cautious to even tell you. That’s when you knew something was wrong, and your mind first went to Sam and Dean on whatever hunt in Alaska. They had been pretty quiet for the last few weeks, you realized in the seconds of silence. Fuck, what if Sam and Dean were…?

“There’s a case,” Castiel began, and your beating heart steadied a little. “Since Dean and Sam are gone, I thought you might want to help.” 

You nodded without even thinking. “Yeah, sure. What details do we have so far?”

Cas took a breath in. “Seemingly normal humans are being murdered and their hearts are being eaten.” 

You paused. It sounded disturbing, but it wasn’t nothing you couldn’t handle. “Wow, okay. Um, werewolf?”

“I don’t think it’s a werewolf, Y/N,” Castiel looked at you for a moment before adding. “The person killing these men, it’s… It’s Jack.” 

The words floated between you for a moment. You felt like you were going to throw up, and you attempted to swallow the urge. “Jack?” The name came out small and quiet. “Our Jack? How? What?”

“Yes,” Cas nodded, his eyebrows turned up ever so slightly. “At least he looks like him.”

“Oh,” You whispered. “Shifter? Or-or something like that? I don’t...” 

“It’s possible,” Cas answered your question, but his focus remained on you and the shock you were absorbing. 

In the handful of years before Jack had died, the two of you had grown undeniably close. He had learned many things from the movies the two of you constantly gushed over, and one of those things was the array of more in-depth, vivid emotions. Jealousy, greed, boredom, love. 

After a little more than a year, you and Jack began thinking of each other as more than friends. You were both learning, really, but it hadn’t felt like that. It had felt like you were floating on a million clouds, holding onto stars for support and watching the moon float in your backyard. 

Love.

You hadn’t called it that then; you had been too scared. You had been a coward, and then you had been too late and Jack died. After that, you had been a bit of a wreck. You had watched Sam and Dean -- the latter especially -- push down their emotions of sadness, anger, and regret so many times before but never understood why. Now, you sorrowfully did. 

“What if it’s him?” You whispered to Castiel, who looked back up at you. He held your gaze for a moment, thinking over his next words. 

“Maybe it is,” He said slowly. “If it is, we need to help him.” 

You nodded. “Of course. I- Do you have any more information?”

“The local sheriff called me, and he sent me some security camera footage. I told him I would call him back, but I wanted to tell you first.” 

“Thank you,” You smiled slightly at Cas. “I’ll be right out.” 

The footage had confirmed your fears. Clear as day, Jack Kline walked into the office, got the attention of the doctor, and killed him before eating his heart. No eye shine to suggest a shifter, and all of his mannerisms screamed Jack. Either it really was the Nephilim, or it was a damn good impression of him. 

So Cas and you had driven down in your suits, ready to investigate. After meeting with the sheriff, you found out that someone else had spotted Jack more recently, going after what Cas had suggested to be a Grigori. You had followed the clues to an abandoned factory, where nothing was left of the two but a small splattering of blood. No Jack, no Grigori, just the worrying sign of liquid red. 

So Castiel and you had split up. The sheriff had listed off abandoned buildings, and two -- an old church and a farmhouse -- caught your attention. After a quick discussion, you managed to convince Cas that you could handle yourself on your own and would go look at the farmhouse while he took a peek at the church. 

You had taken the car, and the drive was somber. You remembered when your Grandfather had died when you were six or seven, and you had all piled into your dad’s truck and driven in the funeral procession. No one had felt like talking about the funeral you had just left, or the burial you were going to. The radio had been turned down, and even the bustling of the city seemed to fade into nothingness. It had been almost disturbingly silent, as it was now, except this time you had hope along with you. 

Much to your disappointment, however, the farmhouse had been empty. No sign of anyone there, nor any sign that there had been anyone recently besides some teenagers getting high and a couple of small animals. You had shot Cas a text (Hope you’re having better luck than me. I’ll see you at the church) and drove to where you remembered having seen the abandoned church.  

Before walking in, you had paused at the door of the car to gather yourself. Whatever you saw in there, you had to keep it together. Whether it be Jack himself, or a shifter, or nothing... As ready as you would ever be, you drew your gun and pushed open the double doors. 

The first thing you noticed upon arriving was the literal dead body lying there. For a split second, you panicked, seeing dark hair and thinking it was Castiel in the dim light. Then your eyes processed the image, and some creature -- you assumed the Grigori -- was before you, and he was dead. Cas was calmly sitting in one of the church pews, right next to the aisle. He looked tired but seemingly unscathed, which was enough to calm your nerves. It didn’t take long for you to realize that he wasn’t alone in that pew, that someone was sitting next to him. Tufts of light brown hair caught your attention, and within seconds you stopped breathing. 

Castiel looked up and noticed you. “Y/N,” He said your name, which caught the attention of the person next to him.

When you had driven down here, you spent hours thinking about what you were so afraid of. For the longest time, you were sure you were the most terrified of seeing Jack but it not really being him, tasting the idea of him but never getting close. After some thought, however, you realized that you were afraid the most of seeing him and it really being Jack, because what the hell would you say? 

You didn’t have to say anything, you realized now. 

Castiel stood up and moved out of the pew, allowing Jack Kline to usher himself out as well. You pushed the gun, which had long since been lowered, back into your jeans. “Jack,” You murmured, and you felt tears push at your eyes. He looked tired too, but his eyes were underlined with shame. At that moment, you didn’t care. It was really Jack, he was standing before you. It was really him, you felt it, and with Jack, there was a chance that everything would be okay. 

You stepped forward and he met you the rest of the way. The two of you collided in a hug at first, sweet and soft. You had tears falling down your cheeks down, falling on your smile like light raindrops. You had shared many hugs before: hugs with your parents before everything in your life went to shit, hugs with Sam and Dean after risky hunts, hugs with Mary when you looked like you needed a motherly figure, hugs with Cas when he was relieved you were alright, even dozens of spontaneous hugs with Jack. They all paled in comparison to now, you clutching onto Jack’s back and him bundling your hunting jacket in his fists. You both had faces buried in the other’s shoulders, Jack’s arms having landed above you in the sheer eagerness to hold you. 

After what felt like hours of hugging, you pushed yourself back to get a better look at him. Still, no words were exchanged but a smile spread across your face as you looked at him. You kissed him once, quick and sweet before looking at him once more. A slight smile was spreading along his cheeks now, but you could tell he was too tired to give more than that. God, you didn’t care that he didn’t smile back. He was here, holding onto your arms as you held onto his, looking between your eyes.

You kissed him once more, eagerly this time. You had missed him, you had missed this. The way you both felt so natural at love and adoration at moments like this, kissing each other after a thousand years apart. It was a reunion you thought would never come. 

You pull away for a final time, and Jack is blushing. “I missed you,” You gush quietly, just for him to hear. 

Jack smiled back, exhausted but overjoyed beyond words. “I missed you, too.” You didn’t plan on kissing him again, but those words turn your body into jello and you can’t help but love Jack Kline madly at this moment. 

You had lots of time to think about Jack in the time since he died. You had thought of the two of you, and what you had been and where you might have been going. You thought of the time you spent together, and the time you spent apart. You thought about feelings, as cheesy as that sounds, and you came to the clear notion that you loved Jack. 

The words bounced in your head for a moment, unsure how to get out or if they should come out at all. If Cas had spoken or stepped forward, you would have surely pushed the words back in. But the angel remained quiet, watching with proud eyes and a happy smile. 

“God, I love you,” You blurted out. “I love you.” 

Jack looked at you for a moment, and he looked as young and carefree as he had been when you had first met, when Sam and Dean had brought him back to the bunker with little information on the guy and too many worries. It was going to be okay, you realized as you had earlier. 

Jack smiled, a real smile this time. “I love you, too, Y/N. I’m sorry I was gone.” His voice came out in a whisper. 

You laughed. “No, Jack, I don’t care. It’s not your fault.” His hands were cold in yours, which only made you grasp them tighter. “You’re back now, and I love you and you love me, and Cas is here and you’ll get to see Sam and Dean. We’re going to all be together again, and that’s all that matters.” 

He smiled at you, one of his classic, ear to ear Jack smiles that accompanied a sugary treat or a proud remark from Dean. “Let’s go home,” He whispered. You looked to Cas, all three of you standing in the empty church with a dead body nearby and smiling like idiots. 

“Yes,” Castiel repeated, stepping forward to lead the way. You took Jack’s hand, which he gave a single squeeze. “Let’s go home.”

[rollercoasterwrite]

I’m So Curious [Chapter 2]

CHAPTER 1 

Prompt : Jjong is a college student with tight money, but manages to get into a prestigious uni where he becomes friends with Taemin. One day, Tae asks him to go out on a blind date with his cousin Jinki, a notable lawyer who still hesitates about dating someone. Jjong refuses, but the amount of money Tae offers is a sight he can’t ignore. Jinki adores him immediately and after several dates, Jonghyun falls in love with Jinki, but he doesn’t know how to tell Jinki about his agreement with Tae.

Pairing : Jongyu

Genre : romance, fluff, angst, smut (eventually)

Word Count : 9 400 ~

Links : AFF & AO3

Special thanks to Cheryl, my beta once again!!! 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

If Jonghyun had thought he could've had a peaceful morning after having a troubled night of sleep, he realized he was gravely mistaken.

Loud knocks fell rhythmically against his dorm room's door like a hammer hitting a nail repeatedly, the sound instantly awakening his rage impulse.

He gave the door a death stare it didn't deserve before walking towards it, not even minding that he was only clad in short briefs.

"What?!" he burst out as the door swung open from his forceful pull.

The intent of his demeanour was miserably lost on the young brunette that stood before him. The latter just walked in as if he owned the place, wasting no time settling comfortably on the living room's small couch.

Jonghyun's gaze followed, watching as the other casually hooked a leg over the seat's arm before looking straight at him.

"Did you guys fuck?" 

The question dropped without notice, completely throwing off the blonde's stubborn grumpiness.

"Excuse me?" he let out in a voice that crescendoed from sheer astonishment.

"Why don't you start by closing the door," the other said, unbothered. "Unless you want everyone to know your business."

Jonghyun's bewildered look moved away from the other for the length of time it took to shut and lock the door before he brought it back on him.

"What's your fucking deal?" he voiced as frustration grew back into his tone.

"Don't get mad at me," the younger one replied, scoffing. "Taemin said you went on a date with his cousin, so I wanted to be the first to get the crunchy details."

A feline smile stretched across bowed lips as surprise read boldly on the blonde's face.

"Taemin told you?" the latter asked.

"Didn't you hear my opening question?" the brunette reminded with a frown.

Jonghyun frowned back in confusion before his face slowly relaxed.

"That isn't any of your business," he said, opting for a casual tone this time.

"Well yes, it is," the other countered. "Who else are you going to share this with? It's not like you are going to tell Taemin how good or how bad sex was with his cousin."

Jonghyun gave him a stone-hard look.

"Taemin just wanted me to go on a date with the guy, don't get shit twisted."

"You mean he paid you to go on a date," the brunette corrected. "So you had to put out."

That was enough to make the blonde's blood boil hot. "Kibum," he gritted menacingly. "Get out." "Come on, Jjong," his friend maintained in a calm tone. "I'm not gonna make fun, I just want to know if you had a good time." Jonghyun knew better than to trust those words. "I'm not telling you jack shit." Kibum's face hardened. Cold eyes silently battled with fiery ones before it became clear that a strategic retreat was the best course of action. "Fine," the younger one curtly said. He got back up on his two feet and promptly walked past the other, making sure to slam the door on his way out. A loud sigh left the blonde's mouth before he rubbed some of the tension off his face. It wasn't even 9 am yet and he already felt like the day was dragging on too long. But that wasn't anything new. The only thing that could help revive his functioning corpse was a fresh brew. Not wasting another second on thoughts, he moved to the small space that acted as a kitchen and got his small coffee machine running. As the strong and comforting smell filled the air, Jonghyun closed his eyes, trying to catch a break from everything.

But that was probably the worst thing he could’ve done at that moment. The very image that had played hide and seek with his mind for the past few hours came right at him with vivid details that made his chest and core tighten. His eyes shot open before that sensation could travel any lower.

He reached for one of his cupboard’s handle with a slightly trembling hand and pulled out his favorite mug. It was a light cream-colored mug that was a bit chipped at the rim and had a stained bottom, but it was a memento of moments from the past that he didn’t see himself being able to let go of. Not yet.

He filled it to the brim with the steaming hot liquid, enjoying the stark contrast between the colors. Cream and dark brown met against the fullest of his lips, the softest of inhales giving him a first taste of his favorite remedy. His face inevitably warmed up from the waves of heat that ran out through the tight space created by his hunched stance over his cup. It was then that he sunk in, plunging mouth first into the rich and dark pool that floated before him. Taking the dive had never felt better than in that moment.

A few invigorating laps in, he turned towards his living room to look out through the window. The day was a cloudy one, prefacing possible outbursts of rain. If it were anyone else, that might’ve been a depressing sight, but to Jonghyun it was comforting. He felt his shoulders relax as his eyes stilled on the scenery.

This moment could’ve been perfect in every way, but peace seemed to always be too much to ask for in Jonghyun’s world. Another series of knocks on his door jolted him back into a tense state.

I swear to fucking God…

He had the good sense to put down his cup on the counter before marching back towards the front door to tell his friend off.

"Go away, Kibum," he yelled at the closed door.

A muffled titter reached him from the other side. "Hyung, it’s not Bummie."

At that, Jonghyun felt a stab of anxiety. "Um… I’m… I’m… naked."

"So? I’ve seen your dick before," the other said, raising his voice to be heard.

The blonde had to close his eyes and take a deep breath not to feed into his murderous urges. He knew if he kept arguing through the door, more embarrassing things would probably come out of the other’s mouth, so he had to settle on opening the door. Even if that was literally the last thing he wanted to do right now.

He had barely pulled it open when he felt himself stumble backwards from the force of another body launching forward into him. A thumping sound reverberated from their chests colliding as arms wrapped tightly around his bare torso.

"Get off of me," he ordered, voice muffled from the shock of hair that pressed against part of his face.

The grip around him just got tighter, almost cutting off his breath, and for a moment there, he wondered if this was turning into an attempt on his life. Fortunately, it didn’t get to that as the other let go and stepped back. The grin he was sporting between his full cheeks didn’t feel even slightly reassuring to the blonde.

"What are you smiling about?" the latter asked, nervous.

If it was even possible the brunette’s smile grew even wider. He looked like he was about to burst into a million particles from how frantic his energy felt.

"I knew it!" Taemin finally exploded as he threw his arms up in victory.

Jonghyun cocked a brow, confused. "You knew what?"

There was a pause as the other looked him up and down with a narrowed gaze.

"You said you were naked," Taemin reminded, frown drawing his eyebrows close.

"I lied," Jonghyun admitted.

The brunette’s mouth dropped open as the crease grew deeper between his eyes.

"Why would you do that?"

A visible contraction ran through the blonde’s jaw. "I just wanted to have a peaceful morning, but I guess that was too much to ask for."

With that, he walked back to the counter and picked up his mug, determined to at least enjoy a nice cup of coffee.

"Can you please close the door?" Jonghyun asked as he glanced at the slight opening that remained.

The younger one did just that before taking a few steps towards him.

"I didn’t mean to disturb your peace," Taemin said in a more subdued tone. "I was just really excited to share the good news. "

"And what would that be?" Jonghyun inquired, gripping his mug closer.

Taemin’s lips stretched into a smile again. " He likes you, like a lot. "

And right on cue, Jonghyun’s heart flipped.

Shit.

"Who’s he?" he feigned in a measly attempt to remain in denial.

Taemin crossed his arms, unamused. "For real, now?"

Jonghyun didn’t budge, focusing instead on getting more coffee into his system.

"You know very well who I’m talking about," Taemin stated before his eyes zeroed in on the other’s cup.

"Are you not going to offer me some coffee?" he said, lips curling into a pout.

"Are you not going to finish what you were saying?" Jonghyun echoed, baffled by the sudden change of topic.

"Oh, so you’re interested now?" the younger one fired back.

A staring contest ensued, which the blonde conveniently abandoned to grab another mug from the cupboard. He filled it with what had remained in the coffee pot and handed it to his friend who, in the meantime, had wiggled his way closer.  

"Thank you, Jjongie," the latter cooed as he bounced lightly on his feet.

Jonghyun watched as he took a long first sip, taking that lull in conversation to mentally prepare for what was to come. He really wished he had had his much needed alone time to sort things out.

Feeling like his body would need assistance soon, he moved to the couch and slowly settled onto one of the soft cushions. Of course, that meant being copied two minutes later by the other one who sat right beside him. Jonghyun held in an annoyed sigh.

"So, are you ready to talk about this now?" the brunette verified as he shifted his body aslant to better look at him.  

"Yeah, whatever," Jonghyun answered, shoulders inadvertently hunching over.

"What did you think of him?" Taemin immediately asked.

The blonde’s eyes flicked sideways to catch the other’s face before he reverted to the comforting sight of his filled mug. His mind felt jumbled and whenever that happened, there was a risk he’d say something he would regret. He couldn’t afford that right now. He was naked enough as it was.

"He’s… nice," he finally chose. The simplest answer was surely his best option right now.

Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to suffice for his friend.

"Nice?" Taemin threw back with a cocked brow.

"Yeah," Jonghyun maintained before bringing his cup to his lips again.

"Anything else?" the younger one went on.

"Nope."

A sigh followed, but much to the blonde’s surprise, it sounded like a sigh of relief.

"I fucking knew it," his friend let out.

Jonghyun couldn’t help but look straight at him with a deep frown now creasing his forehead.

"Can you stop with that? What the hell does that even mean?" he snapped as he took in the victorious smile that graced the other’s face.

"You like him too," Taemin sing-songed like an elementary school kid.

"How did you pick that up from me saying he’s nice?"

"I know you too well, Hyung," the other stated. "If you hadn’t enjoyed his company, the first thing that would’ve come out of your mouth would’ve been something negative."

Jonghyun’s mouth dropped open before he shut it tight, his eyes then narrowing into a hateful stare.

The only effect that had was to make the brunette burst out laughing in his characteristic hiccupy laugh, almost spilling some of his coffee over in the process.

"Am I wrong?" he managed to say through his fit.

Jonghyun wished a simple yes could’ve settled the whole matter, but he also knew how bad he was at lying and how pointless it was at this point. That didn’t mean he had to outright admit though.

His stubborn silence had the other getting right back at it.

"I know you won’t just admit to it, but still, I’m happy things went well between you two," he said, voice sincere.

"Also," he added. "I’ve already made the transfer to your account," he casually informed before taking a sip.

That instantly pulled the blonde out of his muteness.

"Tae… I can’t, " he uttered, uncomfortable.

"We already discussed this…"

"Yeah, I know, but… it feels wrong."

The guilt which sprung up through his chest made his head fall forward, his gaze landing straight on his bare thighs.

"It’s really not a big deal," Taemin dismissed. "Anyway, it’s not like I’ll be paying you every time or something."

"Every time?" Jonghyun promptly reacted as he straightened up again. "What do you think this is?"

A sly smile stretched across the brunette’s lips. "Oh, I don’t know. You tell me."

Jonghyun gave him a bewildered look. "You’re not making any damn sense."

"I don’t need to, as long as I get what I mean that’s enough," the younger one indicated with a shrug.  

"In any case," he continued as he put down his cup on the small coffee table before them. "Jinki said he’d be texting you later today, just so you know."

The blonde felt goosebumps prickle his skin.

"I’m sure you have nothing to do with that," he scoffed, partly to divert himself from his body’s betrayal.

The brunette chuckled. "I actually didn’t have to say much." A mischievous smile played on his lips. "One thing you have to know about Jinki is that when he wants something, he is very stubborn about getting it."

Upon hearing those words, Jonghyun’s first impulse was to scream, but he miraculously managed to keep it together despite the shiver that ran through him.  

"Why does that remind me of someone?" he said as naturally as he could.

Taemin laughed. "Oh, I don’t know. "

He then pushed himself back up on his two feet. "I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your morning, Hyung. I gotta meet up with Jongin to practice."

Jonghyun frowned at him. "Again?"

"Well, yeah. We have a choreo to present in contemp’ class this Friday," he quickly defended.

Jonghyun gave him an unimpressed look before deciding that now wasn’t the time to force the issue.

"Yeah, okay, have fun."

He felt the other’s lingering gaze on him as he drank more coffee, but deliberately ignored it. A second later, he heard him mutter something under his breath, but didn’t make any move to show that he cared.

As expected, his demeanour prompted the brunette to leave his dorm without another word, but surprisingly, his door wasn’t slammed shut on his way out.

Jonghyun let out a long sigh as he looked around his living space.

All for a peaceful morning…

***

If Jonghyun had hoped that things would settle, he was once again gravely mistaken. He couldn’t even fault anyone other than himself this time. The inner turmoil he had been experiencing lately wasn’t anything less than strange.

Jonghyun wasn’t one to run after people or be particularly needy. Life had shown him that his best support system was himself and he had chosen to live his life in alignment with that lesson. The friends he had now had been made through a fortunate chain of circumstances that he was very grateful for, but in the back of his mind, he never felt like these relationships could persist over the long haul. He had always believed that he would end up going through life alone. The thought wasn’t even a dark assessment of his life; it just felt like the natural course of things.

That’s why the moment he found himself feeling something that could be categorized as neediness, he felt unsettled. Did he enjoy having company? Yes. Sometimes. Did he miss his friends when they didn’t get to hang out in a while? Yes. Sometimes. Did he ever feel like there was a void if he didn’t get to see other people? No. Not really.

So again, he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he was feeling like an abandoned pup right now. It had been five days since Jinki should’ve supposedly texted him and he still hadn’t gotten any news. At first, he had chalked that up to the fact that Taemin had probably mislead him to mess with his head a bit, but by day three, he genuinely started to feel worried and insecure. What if Jinki had just been polite and hadn’t really enjoyed his company?

By now, he had probably had that thought a million times and every time, it felt like a soft stab to his chest. The day before, he had even thought of getting some information through Taemin, but at the last minute, he had buried his words down his throat, still determined on saving face. It was a good thing for his ego, but not so much for his current emotional balance. His eyes had now been glued to his phone for the last ten minutes, distracting him from the composition he had been trying to work on for the past few days. Something he cared about so much was now falling by the wayside because of irrational impulses.

The vibrant blue sky that had graced the day was now morphing into darker shades and soon enough, another day would’ve passed without him getting any kind of relief from his inexplicable predicament. He felt screwed in so many ways, apart from the way he was probably needy for. Jonghyun didn’t do emotional connection, but he did find himself in dire need of physical touch a lot of times. He wasn’t very vocal about it, but it was still very present nonetheless. Popping in some porn and jerking off to it before bed usually did the trick, but even that hadn’t been effective in the past few days.

He had jerked off, but his fuel hadn’t been some mindless porn plot. It had been something very real, but also very foreign. What was becoming clear in his mind was that if things kept up in the way they had, he’d probably have to call up Taemin again. And he certainly didn’t want to have to resort to that.

God… what is wrong with me?

He threw his phone on the empty cushion beside him before picking it right back up two seconds later.

Nothing new.

He groaned loudly at his own pathetic behaviour as his hand clenched tightly around the small device.

Damn you, Tae.

Jonghyun had been perfectly fine with the balance he had before. Was he working himself too hard? Probably. But he was staying focused and disciplined. Now those words felt like a joke to him.

His eyes shut as he took a few deep breaths to settle himself a bit. The exercise was enough to create some much needed mind space. Space that was soon filled with the only solution that could calm his nerves and turmoil.

Call him.

Of course, it was easier said than done, but after another five minutes of internal debate, he stopped fighting.

The loop of rings that reverberated against his eardrum brought his heart rate to a frighteningly high speed and for a moment there, he thought he wouldn’t make it, but the voice suddenly cutting through monopolized his focus.

"Jonghyun?"

The one in question swallowed, simultaneously realizing how dry his throat had become.

"Hello?"

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about hanging up right this instant, but something stronger than his fear prevented him from doing just that.

"Yes, it’s me."

Jonghyun heard his smile on the other end.

"Was just making sure," Jinki replied. "How are you?"

I’m just about to lose my fucking mind, but I’m good and you?

"I’m fine… I was just… doing some stuff for school," he voiced, feeling awkward.

"And you?"

"Well, first, I’m glad you’re fine," the other said. "Secondly, I could give you my ready-to-go answer or a real answer. Which one do you feel up for?"

"The real one, of course," Jonghyun immediately answered.

"Well…" A sigh followed. "I’ve been swamped with this new case and it’s really not given me any time to breathe. At first, I thought it could just be solved with an easy settlement, but now it’s just a complicated mess..." A longer sigh left him this time.

Guilt weighed on the blonde’s chest at that. He had been so wrapped up in his selfish needs that he hadn’t thought for a minute that the other might’ve had a good excuse for not calling back.

"I’m so sorry you’ve been overwhelmed by that," he offered.

"It’s fine, really," the other immediately said in return. "I’ve been through this type of madness so many times before." He then laughed.

"Still, I hope your workload will lighten up soon."

"I hope so too."

The inevitable awkward silence crept in in that moment, leaving Jonghyun in the face of his pitiful previous behavior.

"I didn’t want to bother you," he started, shameful. "I just…"

Nothing seemed justifiable enough to explain himself.

"Don’t worry about it," Jinki reassured. "I’m glad you called actually. I’ve been feeling guilty about not calling you back like I’d promised."

"But I was going to…" he immediately added. "I just wanted to have more time…"

"I get it," Jonghyun acknowledged, his shoulders relaxing from the relief of not having been forgotten.

"I’m glad you do and I’m sorry," the other said.

"Don’t worry about it,"Jonghyun reassured.

"No, but really, it’s not okay," Jinki went on. "I should’ve taken a few minutes to call you."

"What can I do to make this right again?" he then asked.

Jonghyun felt himself get warm all over. Why is he being like this?

A bunch of ideas popped up in response to his question, but ultimately, they all came down to one thing.

"I’d just like to see you, to be honest."

These words had probably not seen the light more than five times throughout his whole life, but in this moment, it felt like there was no better way to express what he wanted.

"Ah, well," a brief pause ensued, "I can definitely do something about that."

His voice felt like a soft caress against Jonghyun’s ear and he had to bite his lip to prevent any inappropriate sound from leaving him.

"Actually…" the brunette continued. "I’ve been thinking about having ice cream all day and I could definitely use a break right now."

Jonghyun frowned, not sure he was following. "You mean…"

"I mean let’s go eat some ice cream together," the older one reiterated in a cheerful tone.

"Unless, you don’t like ice cream, which would be totally fine too," he immediately added.

"No, no, I like ice cream," Jonghyun confirmed with a bit too much enthusiasm. He noticed immediately, making a mental note to himself to reel it in.

"But what happened with not stress eating?" he couldn’t help but ask, his teasing nature never too far behind.

The brunette snorted. "Pardon my language, but fuck that."

Jonghyun’s eyes widened as a familiar pang hit his stomach.

If he curses again, I’m fucked.

"Amen to that," he played along with a small laugh.

Jinki joined in before speaking again. "In what area do you live?"

"I live on campus," Jonghyun answered.

"Oh," the other exclaimed in surprise. "It’s actually not too far from where I work… maybe fifteen minutes or so," he informed.

Jonghyun found himself feeling a bit too happy about that fact and had to make another mental note to himself to calm the fuck down.

"I’ll just check real quick if there is an ice-cream parlor not far from there," Jinki indicated before falling into silence.

Jonghyun quietly waited, just now noticing the queasy feeling in his stomach that came around whenever he was nervous or uneasy.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to sit with it long.

"Okay, there is one at about a ten-minute walking distance from the campus," Jinki reprised. "Is that okay for you?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, so I’ll text you the address," the older one settled.

"Good."

"I should be there in half an hour."

"Great."

"Okay, so see you soon," Jinki concluded with a smile that didn’t fail to translate at the other end.

"See you soon," Jonghyun reciprocated, a bit more subdued.

As soon as the line cut off, he flopped onto the couch, already overwhelmed by that bit of interaction.

He closed his eyes for a while, just trying to recover. After what seemed like an eternity, he reopened them and finally made a move to get ready. He didn’t have too much time, so he went straight to his room to get changed. He took off his hoodie, his cap and sweatpants and looked through his rack of clothes to pick out something more appropriate for the circumstances.

Jonghyun always chose comfort over style, but he still felt the pressure of making a good impression on the other. He knew there was no need to go all out like last time, but he could definitely put in more effort than he usually would.

As he looked through his items of clothing again and again, he couldn’t help but wish Kibum was there to help him out. Unfortunately, they still weren’t on speaking terms if the looks of hatred he had received from the other in the hallways were any indication. Jonghyun definitely had the luck of befriending the most stubborn people in the world.

After a few more minutes, he finally settled on a loose-fitting grey shirt and dark jeans that were ripped at the knees. He wasn’t sure it was the best choice, but in the end, that’s all he could agree with himself to wear. He completed the look with his black Timbs, thinking to himself that it was the perfect compromise between his worn-out Converses and his classier shoes. Lastly, he ran a hand a few times through his hair, managing to tame some unruly strands that stuck up.    

He couldn’t help but linger a bit too long in front of the mirror before realizing he really had to go. He slipped his wallet into one of his back pockets and travelled back to the living room where he picked up his phone again to look at the directions. Not long after, he was out the door. The evening breeze met him a few minutes later, instantly showing him that the warmth they had experienced during the day had now completely disappeared. He had the mind to go back up to get a light jacket, but his fear of being late trumped the need for warmth.  

His walk was fast-paced bordering on frantic, so what was supposed to take him ten minutes took him six, leaving him surprised when he found himself standing right in front of the parlor. He took a quick look around to see if Jinki was anywhere in sight, but he didn’t see him. Clearly, he was early, but he did hope the other would arrive soon before his nerves took over completely.

By the time the other finally appeared in his line of vision, he had had the time to envision every possible catastrophe that could occur during their time together. He wanted to be relaxed and enjoy this time, but he felt like he was off to an awful start.

"Am I late?" Jinki asked once he had reached him.

"No, no, I just arrived a little early," Jonghyun reassured before his eyes went on to feast on the sight before him.

The taller one was wearing a marine blue suit that did wonders to his silhouette and his dark bangs covered his forehead this time, giving him a softer, but equally enticing look. But that wasn’t even what had him reeling. It was the fact that the white dress shirt that peaked out underneath wasn’t buttoned all the way up.

He had to wonder if it had been that way all day.

An airy laugh pulled him out of his musings.

"It’s probably not the best outfit to wear to eat ice cream," Jinki noted as their eyes met.

Jonghyun felt his face heat up as he realized he had been caught staring.

"It-it should be fine," he stuttered as he rushed to reply.

But I won’t be, his mind threw at him immediately.

Jinki laughed softly. "I’ve probably lost a few good suits to food by now. One more won’t make a difference."

Jonghyun silently disagreed. No, no, this suit needs to stay.

"The trick is to ask for a cup, not a cone," he advised. "It’s less messy."

A slight pout graced the other’s lips, which didn’t fail to make the blonde’s heart flip.

"Cones are more fun though."

Jonghyun acknowledged that with a nod, not trusting himself to speak right this instant.

"Shall we go in?" Jinki prompted with a lopsided smile.

Jonghyun nodded again and a second later, he was following the taller one towards the entrance. As they stepped in, a small bell attached to the door tinkled above their heads, announcing their arrival to whoever owned the shop. For a few seconds, Jonghyun felt blinded by the bright neon lights, reacting to them with a frown and a wrinkling of his nose, but soon enough, the arrival of a middle-aged woman behind the counter brought his focus elsewhere. The woman greeted them with a pleasant smile and a warm welcome, which they immediately reciprocated.

As they walked over to the display cabinet, Jonghyun noticed the only two other people that were in the shop. It wasn’t hard to see that they were a couple. Their eyes were bound in a loving stare and they were holding each other’s hands, the only thing between them being a melting mountain of sundae.

Usually, he would’ve rolled his eyes at such a sight, but this time, he couldn’t. His stomach tightened and he quickly looked away. He didn’t need to look far for a distraction as his eyes fell on a dozen of colorful tubs of ice cream. Jonghyun still didn’t like that the place was so bright, but he could agree that it was probably the best way to make the products look even more appetizing. He knew that, because despite always sticking to his personal favorite, he now found himself staring at the fruit-flavored ice cream and even at the mint-chocolate chip one, which he had always clowned Taemin for loving.

"What are you getting?" Jinki softly inquired as his gaze stayed fixed on the merchandise.

"I usually always go for Rocky Road, but I’m kinda hesitating right now," Jonghyun admitted. "You?"

"I’m in the same predicament as you are. I always go for Vanilla, but damn… everything looks so good."

The blonde’s eyes tore away from the ice-cream to give the other a judging look.

"Vanilla? Really?" he expressed with barely contained disdain.

Jinki met his scowl with a confused expression on his face. "Well yeah… I like the classics."

"You can’t use that to justify eating Vanilla ice cream," the younger one threw back.

The brunette chuckled at that. "Seems like this is a pretty serious issue for you."

"I mean come on, Vanilla’s just sad," Jonghyun blurted before his mind could catch up.

"And I think Rocky Road’s pretty unsophisticated, but I’m not going to stop you from enjoying it."

The quick jab stunned the blonde momentarily, leaving his expression stuck between surprise and indignation.

A laugh left the other. "What? You can dish it, but you can’t take it?"

Jonghyun’s eyes grew even wider as a result, taken aback by the quick repartee.

So you can be cheeky, huh?

Jinki laughed again. "How about we both choose something different tonight?" he suggested as he looked once more at what was before them.

That effectively snapped the younger one out of his shock. "Mm, sounds good," he agreed.

After a few more minutes of going back and forth between choices, they finally settled and soon after, they were sitting face to face at a table in the back.

"How’s yours?" the taller one asked as he watched Jonghyun have a first taste.

"It’s pretty good actually," the latter said as he nodded at the soft green scoops in his cup.

"I like Pistachio too," Jinki acknowledged before tasting his own.  

Jonghyun just stared as the brunette licked off a few layers of ice cream. The hum of pleasure that ensued almost took him out.

"Wow, that’s great," the brunette then let out, impressed. "I guess I can alternate between vanilla and raspberry now, huh?"

Jonghyun couldn’t help but laugh which effectively pulled him out of his trance. "Yeah, it’s good to live dangerously once in a while."

"I guess you’ll have to teach me."

For whatever reason, that made him shiver.

"Ah well… I’m pretty tame, actually," he indicated sheepishly.

"Is that so?" Jinki questioned, gazing straight at him.

Jonghyun wasn’t one to shy away from a look, but the power in those dark orbs was too much for him to handle.

"I think so…" he said as he looked down to his cup again.

That made the other laugh. "That doesn’t sound too convincing."

"Well…" Jonghyun pondered. "It really depends on what you consider dangerous."

His eyes flicked upwards to meet the brunette’s eyes again.

The latter smiled an amused smile. "I’m not much of a risk-taker as you might’ve gathered already, so my definition is probably broader than most people."

Jonghyun’s gaze narrowed with interest. "Even so, you must��ve done something risky once in your life."

JInki’s head lolled from side to side as he mulled over the thought. "I wouldn’t say risky. I just had a rebel phase during my teens like everyone else, but it wasn’t anything special. I just stayed out way past curfew a few times and drank my problems away a little too many times."

The blonde gave a satisfied nod. "That counts."

Jinki scrunched up his nose at that. "No need to give me participation points."

That made Jonghyun burst out laughing and he instinctively brought a hand up to cover his mouth.

"I’m not!" he refuted.

The brunette clicked his tongue before diving once again in his now melting raspberry delight. The ice cream was sliding past his cone and onto his fingers, but he didn’t seem to care.

And Jonghyun certainly didn’t mind either.

"That was pretty much how wild my teens were to be honest," he went on, more so to distract himself from the view before him. "Now that I’m in college, I really don’t have time to be messy or anything."

That made Jinki freeze, leaving his ice cream alone for a moment. "Why don’t I believe you?" he then said with a slight frown.

Jonghyun could feel his face heat up, but he tried to ignore it by going for a shrug.

"I don’t know," he just said.

The brunette squinted at him before his lips slowly stretched into a cryptic smile.

Jonghyun waited for him to voice his thought, but he didn’t, instead moving his focus back on his treat. He had to follow suit as his own ice cream was starting to puddle in its container.

It was another few minutes before Jonghyun was faced with an empty cup and Jinki chewed his way to the last bit of his cone. Not many words had been exchanged between them in the meantime, but Jonghyun couldn’t have found it in him to speak. Not when one of Jinki’s legs suddenly moved to brush against his in a manner that couldn’t be chalked up to coincidence. He had dared to glance at the taller one to get further reassurance, but his face hadn’t given anything away. The brunette had just given him one of his radiant smiles that did nothing to help.

And now that they were done eating and Jinki was wiping his fingers clean with a napkin, Jonghyun had to wonder what was going to happen next.

"I’m just going to stop by the washroom real quick, I’ll be right back," Jinki said, cutting through his musings.

Jonghyun just nodded and watched him walk away, not failing to catch how good his ass looked in his form-fitting pants. Once he disappeared, he let out a deep breath he had apparently been holding longer than necessary before he went back to reviewing his options.

He clearly didn’t want this moment to end, but he also didn’t know where they stood right now. Clearly, Jinki was sending him a message, but he wasn’t confident about his interpretation of it. The slightest touch could mean so much more to him than what it really was. If it weren’t anything serious, he would risk it, but the present circumstance just didn’t feel like any other time.

It felt different. And Jonghyun didn’t know how to handle it.

He spent the remainder of his time alone trying to figure out what he could say or what he could do, but he wasn’t able to come up with a clear plan before the other stepped out of the washroom.

His panicked state must’ve read clearly on his face, because the first thing that came out of the taller one’s mouth as he settled before him once more was, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, totally," Jonghyun lied as he tried to play it cool.

Jinki chuckled. "Good, because I’d like to bring you somewhere."

Jonghyun’s brows furrowed at that. "Somewhere?"

"Yeah," the brunette simply said, smiling. "I don’t want to tell you more, but I’d like for you to say yes."

Was Jonghyun the type to follow someone he barely knew to a location he had no information about?

"Yes," he immediately answered, his heart rate picking up simultaneously.  

Apparently, he was.

It wasn’t long before they were back outside, being greeted this time by a pitch-dark sky under which the streetlamps shone with a stark brightness. Their surroundings were pretty much void of any other human life making their walk to the car a peaceful and intimate moment.

Jonghyun was mindlessly walking besides the taller one, deciding that his fate pretty much wasn’t in his hands anymore. He was deliberately taking his hands off the wheel and letting the other take full control. That was something he hadn’t done in a while and the retrieval of that carelessness definitely felt invigorating. But he was doing his best to stay calm and keep his energy under control. Otherwise, he was scared he might blow his chance.

They finally came to a halt after walking down the street for a few minutes, stopping in front of a majestic Rolls-Royce. Jonghyun’s eyes widened at its sheen and pristine look, his mind quickly kicking in to remind him of their difference in status.

His ears caught the other’s laugh, but he was still stunned.

"I made the same face when I first saw it," the brunette shared. "Only to realize with time that it wasn’t that different from any other car."

Jonghyun’s gaze shifted to him, brow cocked. "I’d be really curious to know what you have in mind when you say any other car."

Jinki laughed again. "You probably have a point here. Nonetheless, a car is a car."

Following that, he unlocked the doors and made his way to the driver’s side, leaving Jonghyun to settle into the passenger’s seat.

The blonde let himself slide slowly onto the leather seat, every creak of the material under his weight making him hypervigilant of his every movement.  

The brunette’s amused smile let him know that he was probably overdoing it, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was about to fuck something up.

The soft rumble of the car’s engine calmed him a bit as the other’s hands settled on the wheel. It wasn’t long before the vehicle was hitting the road, prompting once again a warning thought in Jonghyun’s mind as to the potential danger that lay in this venture.  

He quickly pushed it away and focused his gaze ahead, looking at the buildings and greenery with a blank interest. The way the surroundings were drawing themselves with each passing intersection felt familiar for the first fifteen minutes of the ride, but soon after, the scenery changed.

There were no more buildings to be seen, leaving in their stead open fields stretching on either side of the road. Jonghyun suddenly felt compelled to ask about their whereabouts, but they hadn’t exchanged a word since the beginning of the ride. Now, the silence was a third party that just couldn’t be thrown out the window.

So Jonghyun held his peace, his hands meeting for a fidgeting dance every few minutes as his sharp teeth gnawed at his bottom lip in a pulsing fashion. He didn’t mean to be nervous or suspicious, but if anything, his survival instinct still had a seat at the table.

It was another ten minutes of the same before they left the fields behind to meet with a viaduct that passed over dark depths of water. Only when they reached the end of it, where concrete met land again, did the car slow down before coming to a stop.

That did nothing to help with the blonde’s nerves, but he chose to stay faithful to silence just a bit longer. The other’s soft breathing reached his ear again as the engine fell asleep. Jonghyun dared give a look his way, immediately meeting his eyes in the process.

The brunette smiled as if it were the most natural thing in the world and that was enough to make his shoulders relax a bit.

"I’m sorry if you were expecting something more glamorous," the other uttered somewhat apologetically.

Jonghyun couldn’t help but snort. "I wasn’t, but you do have some explaining to do."

Jinki laughed at that. "Of course, but let’s step out first."

He followed that up with the retrieval of his car keys and the unbuckling of his seatbelt before opening the door and sliding out of his seat. Jonghyun stayed still for a few seconds, still uneasy, before he finally pushed himself to follow him out, the sound of the car doors slamming shut following each other at a second of interval.  

It wasn’t long before Jinki was before him, a coy smile now dancing on his lips.

"So, " he started, hands settling deep into his pants’ pockets. "What do you think of this place?"

Jonghyun cocked a brow, perplexed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, it’s…"

Creepy.

"It’s…" he tried again as his eyes took in the scenery once more.

"Spacious."

The brunette chuckled. "You’re nice for not saying what’s on your mind."

Jonghyun blinked at him as a sudden warmth spread across his face.

"I know it’s not quite paradise on earth, but for me, it’s… a peaceful place," Jinki shared as he moved his gaze to the river that rhythmically danced a few meters from them.

His eyes went back to him again before he added, "I just wanted to share that with you."

Jonghyun’s heart flipped inside his chest right on cue, making it possible for him not to bite his lip.

"How often do you come here?" he asked to move the conversation into more comfortable territory.

"Whenever I need to clear my mind," Jinki informed. "Which can be one or a few times per week, to be honest," he added before smiling again.

But Jonghyun could see sadness in his smile and that was enough to make his heart ache.

"How did you find this place?" he instinctively asked.

"I was trying to escape," Jinki admitted as he leaned back against the side of the car.

A deep crease grew between the blonde’s eyebrows. "Escape from what?"

A soft sigh crossed the taller one’s lips. "From my parents."

"Why? What happened?"

"It was a few years ago…" the brunette prefaced as his gaze fell towards the ground. "I went to theirs for what I thought was just a dinner, but it turned out that they had invited this girl over to introduce us…"

Jonghyun didn’t miss the clench that punctuated the other’s jaw as he fell silent. The memory was clearly painful, making him regret he had asked any further questions.

"We don’t have to talk about this, Jinki," he voiced as his eyes settled with worry on his dark expression.

The shift was instant. The other’s face relaxed and he looked back up, a hand reaching behind his neck to rub it as he smiled again, embarrassed.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get all serious like that," he said.

Jonghyun’s chest tightened. He was aching to give him a hug, to bring him some peace, but he wasn’t sure he could just now.

So, he went for the next best option.

"It’s okay," he reassured as he settled right beside him against the car. He immediately became hyperaware of the closeness between them, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," he managed to say as his eyes flicked up to reach the other’s.

He was answered with an intent look that menaced to make him burst into a million pieces.

"Can I be honest with you?" the taller one asked as his body shifted to look straight at him.

Jonghyun’s eyes widened as he took in the little space that was left between their faces, but despite his internal meltdown, he found himself able to nod.

"I really like you."

Jonghyun’s body faltered at that, his chest collapsing under a sharp stab that made him whimper against his will.

"Come again?" the older one teased with a cheeky smile.

A bright blush colored his cheeks, making him want to dig himself into a deep hole right that instant.

"That’s not fair," he grumbled with a small pout. "You can’t just spring stuff like that on people."

"So, you would’ve have preferred I hadn’t said anything?" Jinki said, amused.

Jonghyun retaliated with a punch to his arm, making the taller one burst into laughter.

"Yah, this isn’t funny. That should’ve hurt," he fussed, crossing his arms over his chest in protest.

"How can I not laugh when you’re acting this way?" the brunette pointed out.

"Are you making fun of me?" the blonde threw back.

"Not at all, I just think you’re cute," the other swiftly replied.

Another stab. Followed by a shiver. Jonghyun was pretty sure now that he wouldn’t survive this night.

"Yah, you’re pretty smooth for someone who hasn’t been on the dating scene," he observed, frustrated.

"If my honesty comes off that way, I’ll take that as a compliment," Jinki said with a light shrug.

"But I’m starting to get worried you don’t feel the same way, you’ve just been stalling this whole time…" he remarked with a pout of his own.

Apart from being subjected to one of the cutest sights he had ever seen in his life, Jonghyun also had to deal with his own mind and heart racing like there was no tomorrow.

"I really like you too," he said before he wouldn’t be able to anymore.

"Thank god," Jinki let out as he smiled in utter relief.  

Jonghyun frowned. "Are you really surprised? Cause if there’s something I’m not good at it’s being subtle."

The brunette chuckled at that. "I mean, I had my doubts…but it’s always nice to get some type of confirmation."

"I mean it’s really not in my MO to call first," Jonghyun indicated.

That instantly piqued Jinki’s curiosity. "What’s your usual MO then?"

Jonghyun couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at that. "Well, I mean…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I’m usually the casual encounter type of guy."

"Aah," the other acknowledged with a small laugh before saying, "So, I’m probably going too slow for you, huh? "

The blonde’s eyes widened at that. "No, no, not at all," he uttered in panic. "Like I said, it’s not the same, I-"

A gasp left his mouth as warm hands settled on his hips and pulled him closer. His eyelashes quivered slightly as he then felt them move to the small of his back, holding him tightly in place.

By the way Jinki was looking at him, he knew he wasn’t the only one who wanted so much more right now, but he was still wary of not losing himself just yet.

"Can I kiss you?" the brunette asked against him as his lips inched closer to his, their breaths meeting first before anything else could follow.

Jonghyun was left unable to do anything else other than nod, the warmth emanating from the other’s body almost making him dizzy. Jonghyun was used to encountering hot people, but this man right here was a different kind of hot.

And he got even more confirmation of that as the taller one’s lips captured his with an urge that made his heart thump loudly inside his chest and his eyes flutter closed.

He let himself be kissed without restraint, melting under the feeling of the other’s soft lips claiming his before moaning as he felt his tongue find his with an ease that felt almost too good. The sweet tang of the ice cream flavor he got a taste of only added to his hunger. Instinctively, he brought his arms up around the taller one’s neck, pulling him a bit further down to squeeze him closer, to feel him deeper.

Catching the low groan that elicited from him, Jonghyun returned the kiss more fiercely, wanting to see how close to the edge they could push themselves. They kissed without pause until the limit drew itself at the lack of air in their lungs.

Jinki pulled back first, drawing with his retreat a whine of complaint from the blonde.

The latter quickly resolved his need for more by lolling his head a bit to kiss the brunette’s neck, relishing the shiver that accompanied his ministrations.

"Fuck, Jonghyun…" Jinki breathed against him, fingers digging into his hips again as he tried his hardest not to buck his own forward.  

Jonghyun’s lips travelled up to his jaw, giving it a small poignant bite before he pulled back a bit to meet the taller one’s eyes again. The latter’s face was tense, and his eyes had that sheen of desire he was sure could be read in his own.

"Did you also bring me here to fuck, Jinki?" he dared as one of his hands slowly travelled down the other’s covered chest, relishing the softness of the material under his palm.

The brunette’s gaze narrowed just a bit more, focusing on the subtle blush that graced the younger one’s cheeks with a hunger he hadn’t felt in a really long time. If he were to only listen to his dick’s brain, he probably would fuck him right here and then.

And Jonghyun was making it incredibly hard to resist as his hand finally reached his belt and tugged on it with a provocative playfulness.

"So, am I right?"

Jinki’s eyes darted downwards, looking at how close the blonde’s small hand was to his crotch and thinking about how much he wanted it on it. Images of being brought to completion flashed in his mind and he had to bite down hard on his lip not to moan.

Out of precaution for his sanity, he grabbed the other’s hand and moved it away from him.

"Do I look like the kind of guy that would bring you to such a secluded place to fuck?"

Jonghyun shrugged. "I don’t know, you tell me," he said in a tone that had accents of challenge.

"Well, if you must know, my MO’s pretty much the opposite of yours," Jinki informed before chuckling a bit at the frown that drew itself on the smaller one’s pretty features.

"What does that mean?"

Jinki’s laughter died right that moment, unnerving Jonghyun deeply. He didn’t have much time to linger on it though as the brunette’s face came close to his again. Just when he thought he would be granted with the gift of another kiss, the other moved his head slightly, bringing his lips to his ear.

"It means that I like to wait," he whispered before pulling back again.

Jonghyun’s eyes had closed at the sound of his voice, lingering on the undertones of it for a few more seconds before he opened them again. His spine was still tingling from the shiver that had just run through it, leaving him in a heightened state of sensitivity.

He couldn’t help but want to be close to him, to feel more of him, but most of all, he didn’t want to force anything. Despite the way the other had chosen to get his point across, Jonghyun could still feel he was pretty serious about it. Jinki didn’t seem like the type of guy to play around with his words.

"Waiting it is then," Jonghyun acknowledged not without a tinge of disappointment pinching at his heart.

Jinki seemed to pick up on that, because a second later, he was laughing. "Don’t worry, I don’t mean waiting until marriage," he reassured. "I just want to get to know you better first."

Jonghyun felt his heart flutter. "Sure," he simply said as he tried to remain calm.

The brunette smiled softly. "I probably should bring you back home now," he indicated as his gaze travelled around them.

The blonde did the same, only then realizing how dark their surroundings had become.

"Yeah, okay," he agreed.

A few seconds later, they were back in the car, fastening their seatbelts, before Jinki had the engine running again.  

The ride back seemed to pass by a lot quicker even though they fell into the same shared silence as before.

As they crossed into familiar territory again, Jonghyun started bracing himself for the moment when they’d have to say goodbye. His neediness for the other still felt incredibly odd, but he just couldn’t help it.

The thought of asking him to come up to his dorm crossed his mind, but when the car finally stopped in front of his building, he felt stupid for it. He could wait a little more.

"I’m really happy we got to spend the evening together, Jonghyun," Jinki said as he smiled at him once more.

"Me, too," Jonghyun echoed as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Thank you for bringing me back home."

"It’s the least I could do after bringing you out to nowhere," the other replied, laughing.

Jonghyun couldn’t help but join in. "I suppose. " He then looked down to his hands, thinking. "Since you showed me something significant for you tonight, maybe next time, I could do the same?" he proposed, a little nervous.

A slight push of the other’s hand under his chin had him looking right into his eyes again.

"I didn’t do that to put pressure on you. We can just go with the flow, really," Jinki said before bringing the same hand up to his cheek to give it a soft caress.

Jonghyun’s eyes closed again, trying to grasp every delineation of his touch. "Okay," he gently uttered under his breath.

Once he let himself meet his eyes again, he couldn’t help but want just a little more.

"Can I get a goodnight kiss?" he asked, somewhat embarrassed.

Jinki nodded before inching closer to him. Jonghyun sighed as their lips met in a soft, slow kiss, his heart rate picking up greatly from the feel of it.

It almost felt like a tragedy when the other pulled back to create a small window of space between them.

"I’ll call you soon, for real this time," Jinki promised before leaving a quick peck on his lips.

Jonghyun nodded in turn and waited for the other to settle back comfortably into his seat before finally making a move to step out.

It was only when he was up and standing on the sidewalk after watching the other drive away that he realized how much he was already addicted to this man.  

And that was definitely a problem.

[kiruuuuu]

More BB/Goyo in which Goyo is slowly going mad. On several accounts. (Rating E, fluff/humour/resolved sexual tension + smut, ~5.2k words) - written for @kiruuuuu​ seeing as she continued obsessing about these two after this piece.

.

Blackbeard is slowly but surely driving him insane.

One big part is the physical aspect, Goyo isn’t denying it – and if it were only that, he’d be as far from complaining as he could be. If his biggest problem was Blackbeard's attractiveness, he’d live in an almost ideal world with most of his dreams coming true, but as it is, the deep-seated desire burning low and slow in his groin merely ensures Goyo doesn’t forcibly eject Blackbeard from his life again due to all the other reasons the American is personally raising Goyo’s blood pressure. He should’ve expected this outcome and largely did, yet imagining having to combat vague incompatibilities while cruising high on happiness hormones which are released in laughable quantities every time he receives a friendly text over the holidays was somehow decidedly easier to stomach than dealing with actual issues face-to-face.

Goyo knows himself, as does Amaru, which is why he doesn’t disagree with her suggestion of meeting in public the first few times. He’s always been weakest right at the beginning of a fancy, daydreaming of scenarios that leave him short of breath and having to adjust his trousers, hoping they don’t betray him if he happens to be in a public space. Despite knowing better, he’s dived head first into physical relationships and paid the price for it, and after having slept with a married man once (without his knowledge, though the blame of hastiness lay upon him regardless), he vowed to improve. Besides, he suspects Blackbeard hasn’t dated a lot of men, so he should take it slow anyway.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t prepared for the change in wardrobe following a throwaway comment about camouflage patterns because not only did Blackbeard take him seriously and dressed differently for their dates from then on (which is a turn on already), his shirts are also very tight. Not unacceptably so, but entirely too tight for someone with pecs this pronounced. In moments when it was hard to deal with Blackbeard's personality, Goyo reminded himself as to why he was still around by eyeing up Blackbeard's chest and Christ. He would love to grope him for hours. Maybe suckle on those puppies. God.

It doesn’t help that he’s changed his aftershave as well. Goyo felt genuinely bad complaining about so much right away, even if it was done through careful euphemisms and half-jokes he practised beforehand, and promised himself to compliment Blackbeard elaborately should he act on it – but never did he expect for Blackbeard to dip into the nearest shop with him to try and find a fragrance Goyo liked. He claimed he was tired of his old one but hadn’t found an excuse to switch so far, and offered his own opinions additionally to Goyo’s, meaning the entire thing felt organic and constructive instead of passive-aggressive or, worse, blindly compliant. As a result, Goyo stands that tiny bit closer whenever he can. Prolongs their hugs. Inhales consciously whenever they kiss. He loves a good-smelling man, and Blackbeard has turned from handsome to painfully sexy.

He makes sure Blackbeard knows, too. He might be picky and demanding, but he would like to think of himself as appreciative, so whenever he notices the American looking or smelling exceptionally good, he remarks on it. And the delighted expressions he reaps are worth feeding this inflated ego. He doesn’t think the other man has been complimented on his appearance much, certainly not by fellow guys.

.

The very first thing they fight about is punctuality. As inevitable as death. It turns into a recurring theme as they simply can’t agree on anything and Goyo’s laid-back attitude towards time sparks nothing but disbelief in Blackbeard – he does learn by setting their meeting half an hour before he actually arrives, but whenever he’s meant to pick Goyo up by car, he shows up on the dot and paces impatiently around the flat without taking his shoes off while Goyo finishes whichever task held him up. Blackbeard calls him rude, Goyo waves him off, and the whole drama repeats the next time. They even have a long talk about it, with Goyo stressing the importance of enjoying life at one’s own personal pace, and Blackbeard calling on politeness and prioritising others over tasks such as washing the dishes.

Related to this, Blackbeard always requires an exact plan while Goyo prefers adapting vague ideas to actual circumstances. There’s no spontaneity in most of Blackbeard's actions, he’s rigid and inflexible and it drives Goyo absolutely nuts. After having agreed on watching a film that night, they walk past a fantastic-looking restaurant Goyo instantly wants to try out, and Blackbeard flat out refuses. Just says no. Claims their original plan was superior simply because it was made earlier, and when Goyo points out that literally nothing is stopping them from having dinner together instead of sitting at the cinema for a few hours, Blackbeard is having none of it. He’s hungry, he agrees with Goyo’s assessment that the place looks inviting, and yet he won’t budge. How did he get to where he is now with this attitude?

Also, Blackbeard is loud. And by this, he’s not even referring to his deafening voice – he’s a pitchman manqué – but rather his behaviour as a whole. Nigh everyone can tell his country of origin due to him constantly approaching perfect strangers, which Goyo finds exceedingly rude. People just want to mind their own business, as does he, and he wouldn’t appreciate being accosted by some random dude on the street. Blackbeard has the gall to call him rude as a result and defends himself by pointing out he leaves the grumpy ones alone and has a lovely chat with the rest who seems to enjoy their talk. Blackbeard has no qualms cursing in public and calling out unacceptable behaviour, and Goyo preferred the ground to swallow him whenever his companion starts an argument with a line skipper or someone parking like an idiot.

What, am I supposed to just tut and walk away?, Blackbeard scoffs, his tone making clear what he thinks of the British nation as a whole.

There are countless other details: Blackbeard's apartment is messy. He can’t cook for the life of him, yet is an utter baking snob. He leaves the toilet seat up. He loves the worst kind of cheesy patriotic action films and accepts no criticism on this. The music in his car leaves Goyo’s ears ringing for the rest of the evening. He seems to think kissing is the only worthwhile public display of affection. He’s ignorant about most other cultures yet fancies himself open-minded because his best friend is Korean – this only means he compares anything and everything either to the States or Korea. Getting him to eat anything he hasn’t tried before is an uphill struggle. Except if it’s Korean.

Vigil seems to get a pass on nearly everything, and Goyo is beginning to think Blackbeard either had or still has a crush on the man. He’s empathetic and understanding as can be with Vigil, and almost seems to enjoy arguing with Goyo. It’s getting old fast.

.

And then there are those other moments. The ones so sharp and vivid they linger in Goyo’s mind long after the fact, bright and warm like a sip of good alcohol, and almost as intoxicating too. They end up eating in the restaurant after all, and Goyo is mentally preparing for the backlash if it turns out to be rubbish – not that he thinks it will be, but he’d rather outline his defence already. In the back of his mind, he’s wondering whether he’s the stubborn one in this case, with his insistence to get his way showcasing his own inflexibility. His mother taught him to be kind whenever he can afford it, yet past experiences and an underlying pessimism usually convince him he can’t. He knows she’d be disappointed with how often he chooses the less compassionate path.

“I’m not good at this”, Blackbeard announces out of the blue, throwing Goyo off once more. This happens regularly, him spiralling and conducting a whole other conversation in his mind, and Blackbeard interrupting his thoughts with something outlandish. Most of the time, Goyo is relieved about it. He tends to get lost and is glad whenever he’s brought back to the present.

Since there’s no indication as to what he means, Goyo needs him to clarify. “At what?”

“Just… this.” And Blackbeard gestures somewhere between them. “Compromising. Letting someone else into my life. Listening.”

I know someone else who’s terrible at all three of those, Goyo thinks and doesn’t say.

“But I like you. And I want to get better. So please be patient with me and talk to me. Okay?”

Blackbeard likes him.

Idiotically, hearing it out loud makes him giddy as if this was a new revelation, but then his brain latches on to the much more important implication of Blackbeard wanting to communicate, being willing to work on himself and on the both of them, admitting faults. It’s a beacon of hope and one he didn’t expect – Blackbeard has never struck him as particularly introspective, not with how he values arbitrary rules above creative thinking, yet it seems he underestimated him. He’ll have to correct his mental image and allow Blackbeard to improve.

“Yes. That sounds good”, he replies after mulling over Blackbeard's words for a bit, prompting a sigh of relief. And, to throw him a bone: “You’re doing good.”

A scoff. “Am I though?”

“You are. Why else would I say it?”

“I don’t know. You just…” Blackbeard lowers his gaze, searching for the right thing to say. “I’m nervous around you.”

Goyo laughs. Can’t help it, he bursts out with a brief laugh turning into a hearty chuckle because – Blackbeard gets nervous? He dreaded being in the same room as the American early on and never managed to settle down in his presence, and now he’s learning it was reciprocal? Had he known he could’ve scared him away, he might’ve confronted Blackbeard earlier, returned the sass, threw his weight around a little. Instead, they were watching each other like hawks for ultimately only marginally different reasons. Nothing about Blackbeard is adorable, but this is the closest thing to it: him being bashful, admitting his crush, relinquishing power and inviting himself to be mocked. Goyo is delighted.

“You don’t need to be”, he reassures and runs his fingertips over the back of Blackbeard's hand, a gentle gesture he seems to appreciate.

There are these moments which remind Goyo why he gave Blackbeard a chance in the first place, and they are what keep him going whenever Blackbeard starts arguing in favour of one of his ‘life principles’.

.

“I made a mistake”, Goyo states, not bothering to hide his fatalistic tone of voice.

Amaru is instantly entertained. Her optimistic and easygoing attitude is part of the reason why she got along so swimmingly with Goyo’s mother, and also why he’s endlessly grateful for her presence in his life: she helped him get past failures whenever his mum wasn’t available, and provided encouragement and support whenever he needed it. It’s also why he keeps bothering her with his problems. “Does it have anything to do with your new relationship?”

She watched from a distance as he made his first few questionable choices in his dating career, ready to pick him up and dust him off whenever he’d fallen down. He learned to accept and value her advice once he realised she was never wrong, so he’s hoping she can assist him with his current predicament. “How did you guess?”, he sighs, not requiring an answer. “They’re showing a documentary I’m interested in on TV this evening, and I mentioned it to Craig.”

“So now he wants to watch it with you?”, his aunt surmises, making him nod. “Which means you’d have to spend the evening with him without falling victim to his manly wiles.” He nods again, looking pained. “And you want me to give you the go-ahead for making up an excuse so you don’t have a bad conscience when you cancel on him.”

Well. Maybe she was the wrong person to approach about this. “When you put it like that, it sounds… bad.”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don Goyo, you’re old enough to not need my approval. Which you’re not going to get anyway, before you ask.”

“I have a feeling I know what you’re about to say to me.”

“Just tell him. If you’re not ready, he needs to know. He deserves to know, César.”

It’s not that he isn’t ready. If it was for him, they’d have fucked in the nearest public stall on their second date, he’s been dreaming about strong arms and an insistent tongue for almost the entire month that they’ve been dating. He’s overripe, and still – it doesn’t feel right somehow. Like he should wait a little longer. They’ve gotten to know each other much better, anticipating each other’s moods, making small gifts here and there and texting daily. Even so, there’s just something.

“Don’t brood. Go and talk to him. Either he respects your boundaries and everything’s good, or he refuses and you can launch him into outer space. No matter the outcome, you’ll be off better than before.”

She must sense his hesitation as she tries to instil her wisdom a few more times before giving up and wishing him a pleasant night. He leaves, conflicted – he doesn’t want to hurt Blackbeard's feelings by rejecting him before even anything happens, and at the same time he’s not comfortable actually reaching below the belt yet.

He’s hoping Blackbeard simply doesn’t try anything. It’s the best case scenario.

.

About eight hours later, all Goyo can think between different versions of God this feels so fucking good is: this didn’t go to plan at all. Blackbeard is buried up to the hilt and Goyo is grateful for being momentarily distracted so he has an excuse not to think critically about what’s happening right then.

And it started out so well.

Goyo arrives only fifteen minutes late, which he thinks is more than reasonable even if Blackbeard doesn’t comment on it, and takes note of the slightly less messy flat – it’s not even that bad normally, some dirty dishes scattered around and pieces of clothing, but at least they give the otherwise relatively barren apartment some character. They kiss as a greeting, briefly, as Blackbeard is busy heating up something to eat, and then sit on the couch with plates on their laps, chatting about their day while waiting for the program to start.

It’s domestic. It should be relaxing and pleasant, not nerve-wracking, but after sitting next to Blackbeard for ten minutes of serious introduction and noticing how his sweatpants don’t really do a good job at hiding anything, Goyo knows he won’t do anything to stop him should he make a move. In a way, it’d be a relief: get it over and done with, don’t dwell on it, move on. The anticipation is putting him on edge, keeps his hairs standing up and his breaths measured. He’s hyper-aware of his knee brushing against Blackbeard's, the broad chest next to him rising and falling, the thumping of his own heart.

He can’t concentrate. Images flash on the screen, a soothing narrator recounts past horrors in a deep voice and historical photographs take turns. He’d actually been looking forward to watching this programme, and should’ve known doing it together with Blackbeard would end in disaster, yet wasn’t prepared for himself being the culprit. Blackbeard has beautiful arms, oozing latent strength and tanned nicely, the dark hairs making them even more appealing. Maybe he doesn���t shave his chest. He probably doesn’t, would consider it unmanly, and with how lush and full his beard is -

“Can I get you a beer?”

Goyo blinks. It’s a commercial break, he hadn’t even noticed. “No”, he says, and thinks: and I’d rather you didn’t have one either. The taste of it is revolting to him.

“I’ll just get one for myself then”, Blackbeard replies, already risen from the sofa, and makes the mistake of leaning down for a quick, once again domestic kiss. It’s reciprocated just a tad too enthusiastically, so Blackbeard pushes back and after a few more seconds they’re tongue wrestling with an uncomfortable height difference between them. The angle is awkward but the feel of it amazing – and this is something Goyo has openly admitted numerous times: he loves the way Blackbeard kisses. Adores it. Can’t get enough of it. It’s intense and deep and wet and leaves him panting every time, with this being no exception.

He drags the other man in, forcing him to steady himself with one knee on the couch, one knee right between Goyo’s legs and both hands cupping his face. This, too, is shockingly sexy, the way Blackbeard keeps him in place to take him apart. Goyo reaches out and runs his fingers over Blackbeard's body and dear God his thighs are like stone, and his back muscles pronounced, and his abs too. He’s tilted far back now, the bear hovering over him, solid and threatening and like a rock set in motion. Soul-crushing. Inevitable.

They kiss until the break is over, until at least one of them is making these embarrassing little noises, until Goyo’s lips feel swollen and his cock is harder than it’s ever been in his life, until Blackbeard breaks off, flushed, sweating and dishevelled, and Goyo wants to suck his dick or he’ll die. Making out has always been Goyo’s weakspot, and making out like this is guaranteed to leave him weeping and ruining his underwear, and he knew Blackbeard was gonna try something. He just knew. They wouldn’t have snogged like this without purpose, without an ulterior motive, without the intention of moving on to more sinful things now.

“We should”, Blackbeard starts and has trouble focusing his gaze, “let’s – I mean -” His sweatpants really don’t let him get away with anything. Unbelievably, he disengages and plops down next to Goyo. Apparently he wants to keep watching, which is the sensible thing to do.

Yes. A good idea. Getting caught up in the moment isn’t what Goyo wants anyway.

Blackbeard is radiating heat. His confident persona has crumbled, revealing a passionate yet considerate lover, a man torn between doing the right thing and doing what feels right. Right now, his upper brain seems to be winning, or maybe he figures if he behaves, Goyo will reward him regardless, or he’s hoping Goyo will stay the night and they can fuck later, or he’s playing hard-to-get. The last option would be hilarious, since Goyo isn’t interested in buying what Blackbeard is selling for now. They should really go back to watching TV, and when it’s over, they can talk a little, and then Goyo’s going home.

Two minutes later, he’s straddling Blackbeard's lap while shoving his tongue so far down the other man’s throat it’s a miracle he’s not choking, and nearly coming in his own pants from the bit of friction he manages to get between his dick and Blackbeard's taut stomach. He’s a fucking magnet and an oven with how hot he is, mewling into the kiss like someone who’s desperate for any kind of attention, like a starving or drowning or poisoned man, like – like Goyo. His beard is soft and smells good, and when Goyo’s hands stray below fabric, he finds more hair on a broad chest and buries his fingers in it. The rugged edge Blackbeard visibly sports continues where the normal gaze doesn’t penetrate, Goyo is relieved to discover, and he can finally feel up these gorgeous tits. Get his hands on them and massage them however he likes.

His nipples are delightfully sensitive and Goyo spends too much time teasing them while sucking deep purple bruises just below Blackbeard's collar until he’s worried about Blackbeard exploding under his merciless ministrations. Frotting has been knocked down in priority now that he can twist strangled moans out of the hard body beneath him, but when his cock throbs almost painfully at a gasp, he knows they can’t go on like this.

“Please give me a moment”, Blackbeard gasps out, cheeks rosy and eyes unfocused.

Again, a reasonable request. He should listen.

“Bedroom”, he snaps and it’s not even a suggestion. He can feel his hole pulsing with the irresistible desire of getting plowed and when Blackbeard, after a second of disbelief, picks him up to carry him through the flat, Goyo is thankful for his foresight to bring condoms and lube regardless of his intentions. He had a hunch Blackbeard would try something.

They only shed what’s necessary (and the shapely legs are somehow only improved with socks on, but Goyo has been told before that it’s a sock fetish at this point) and preparation is an unceremonious affair except for the fact that Goyo sucks on Blackbeard's nipples until they’re raw and too sensitive while fingering himself open. The American has a great body, he has to admit, well-developed muscles, some scars here and there, coarse black hair adorning tanned skin and an upward curved cock beautiful enough to have Goyo’s mouth water, so sitting down on it feels predictably mind-blowing.

He does most of the work, which is fortunate as he can experiment with angles until he’s found one that actually makes him go cross-eyed, and once Blackbeard draws the connection between his blissful groans and whatever’s happening between their legs, he starts thrusting up and dear Lord.

This isn’t what Goyo had in mind when coming over, and yet he can’t find the brain capacity to regret or even care right now, not with how urgent his lust is tugging on his nerve endings, forcing him to ride towards exhaustion and cramps and an impressive muscle hangover the next day. Being able to steady himself on Blackbeard's torso is surprisingly sexy and the sheer barrage of pleasure bursting through him every time he slams down his hips keeps him from touching himself, effectively prolonging his sweet suffering.

Moving in unison has never felt this good and for once, they’re on the same wavelength, exchanging devoted gazes and trading the odd kiss. It’s akin to a reunion instead of a first time, like they’ve rehearsed this song and dance to perfection in the past and, despite a certain rustiness, are quickly finding back into their old routine.

When Goyo comes, his vision goes colourful with how tight he’s squeezing his eyelids shut. He shakes violently while balanced on Blackbeard's hips and gasps for air, overwhelmed by the elation accompanying his release and shooting his sperm all over Blackbeard's mangled chest, over the lovebites and the red marks his hands left behind from carrying his weight. His relief is crushing, and so he slumps down bonelessly, allowing the other man to pump into him a few more times before announcing his own climax with a low moan. Instinctively, it seems, Blackbeard’s palms travel over the back of his sweaty t-shirt, petting him reassuringly.

Goyo doesn’t like it. It feels like too much, like overstimulation after a long, satisfying session even though his was hardly long but certainly satisfying. He shakes the hands off and climbs down, trying to catch his breath. Next to him, blue eyes snap to his face, too attentive. Blackbeard looks like he’s not sure what to say. Goyo could lighten the situation, compliment him, make a joke, or be sincere about how much he enjoyed himself. Because he did.

Even with the afterglow fading fast.

“I’ll go shower first”, he announces and leaves with a quick kiss that seems unsubstantial. He’s gone before Blackbeard has even taken the condom off, and the sensation of dirtiness clinging to his skin seems to go beyond bodily fluids. Scrubbing himself with the only loofah (and isn’t that a surprise) wouldn’t be right, so he uses his own fingers to wipe off the odd feeling.

Blackbeard is sitting on the edge of the bed when he returns, and now he can finally place the source of the awkwardness between them: he’s not babbling. Normally, he’d have commented on Goyo’s stamina, maybe how great his arse looked, recounted an anecdote of some sorts, or even attempted a lame joke, yet all he’s doing is watching. He looks a little lost. Silvery droplets are caught in his chest hair and when they kiss again, Goyo deflects a hug with the excuse of wanting to remain clean, demands that Blackbeard go shower as well.

The bed is large and tidier than the rest of the room, as if Blackbeard had anticipated them ending up here. Despite the general lack of colour in the apartment, the duvet is beautiful with a dark turquoise pattern. The cushions look fluffy, but not too soft. It looks inviting. Goyo did bring a spare pair of underwear, knowing their shoe and therefore sock size is the same, and he briefly pictures waking Blackbeard up by sucking him off. It’s unlikely to happen, with how different their morning routines are – what little he knows anyway – and still, the image is most tempting.

He gets caught in the hallway with one shoe on his foot already, the other in his hands.

His stomach drops and speech evades him out of shame as Blackbeard leans against the door frame, tight briefs highlighting all his best assets. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem disappointed or hurt, which does nothing to quell the burning feeling of being a disgrace eating away at Goyo’s insides.

“What are you doing?”, he asks, no reproach in his voice. Patience is one of his virtues and one he displays right now – if there was ever a moment when Goyo expected an outburst, an indignant rant, it’d be now. Instead, he picks up on a hesitant disquiet, an uneasy curiosity. Blackbeard doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows it’s important, therefore he treats it with the same mindfulness he does any serious issue.

Goyo owes him this. If there’s anything he owes this man, it’s an attempt at an explanation. Since he’s formulated it before, talked it through with past partners, he’s not unprepared yet dreads bringing it up nonetheless. “I have… commitment issues”, he replies softly.

The answering silence is one of racing thoughts, he can read it on Blackbeard's open expression. “Do you want to talk about it?”, he eventually wants to know. For a guy with no idea of how to deal with this, he’s faring remarkably well.

“I am talking about it.” Defensive. He inhales deeply before continuing. “I have trouble opening up to others. I prefer keeping most of me to myself. I can’t trust easily.”

A nod. It hurts; it means Blackbeard has noticed but didn’t dare bring it up. Always the same thing. Goyo fights down a pang of annoyance – part of his mind tries to convince him they don’t deserve him: either they mention it, which makes them whiny complainers not ready to give him time, or they don’t, which means they don’t care enough. It’s bullshit and pops up in the back of his head every time. “Am I suffocating you?”

He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the notion. Blackbeard, who maybe suggests a quarter of their dates, who never complains about Goyo taking some time to reply to messages, who always accepts when Goyo wants to go home, seriously thinks he’s clingy. If anything, Goyo would like for him to be more overbearing, insert himself into Goyo’s life more aggressively. “No. You’re giving me all the space I need.” Too much, at times.

“Am I doing anything wrong?”

Well. What isn’t he doing wrong. Goyo’s heart melts a little over this brute trying to figure out why his lover is sneaking out on him, when it’s nothing but Goyo’s ugly side finally showing. He’s being unfair. “I didn’t want to sleep with you”, he says and knows instantly it was the worst possible thing he could’ve said, with how Blackbeard gains a look of horror, paling immediately, arms dropping by his side, slack, mouth working out an apology before the meaning has even reached his brain. Bad with words. This one he can’t really chalk up to bad timing. “No, that’s not what I meant. I wanted it and I liked it. I really did.” He’s flustered, flailing now, in unfamiliar territory, allowing the first thought to drop out of his mouth without scrutinising it first, and feels like it only gets worse. “But I – I had myself convinced I didn’t want it. Because, I don’t know. I’m -” Scared, he can’t bring himself to say. He knows it’d tear a wound which might not heal so easily. “Look. I’ll go. You don’t have to deal with this.”

No one should have to deal with him like this, sputtering and ashamed to the core, cheeks hot and composure non-existent. He wants to go home and hide for the next century and if Blackbeard told him now he’s not worth the trouble he’s causing, he wouldn’t even object.

“Don’t.” A plea. Heartfelt, for what it’s worth, but any other way and Goyo would already be putting on his second shoe. “I don’t know what to do, or what to say. I don’t know what you’d like me to do or say.”

Neither does Goyo. That’s the whole problem.

Blackbeard must be cold, nearly naked and standing in the faint draft coming in from under the door. He shifts his weight uncomfortably as they stare at each other. Please, Goyo thinks, unsure of what he even means by that. But when the next words hit his ears, he knows it’s what he’s been hoping for: “Just… come back to bed. Okay?”

The shoe hits the ground with a sharp sound cutting through the tense atmosphere between them.

.

Unsurprisingly, Blackbeard prefers being the big spoon. They fight over the blanket since Goyo needs it to sleep whereas Blackbeard insists it’s entirely too warm, and the familiar back-and-forth calms his racing heart. As does the gentle hand rubbing vague circles into his chest while they cuddle. After a few soothing moments, he asks the dreaded question of when Blackbeard's first alarm will go off, resulting in even more bickering.

“I really wanted to watch that documentary”, Goyo mumbles regretfully against the arm he’s cradling like a stuffed toy, partly because it’s wonderfully warm and partly because the skin-on-skin contact does funny things to his stomach. Being pressed against the length of Blackbeard's body is magical. He hasn’t felt this safe in a long while.

“Don’t worry, I recorded it.”

The reply, half lost in his hair, gives Goyo pause. If they could actually see anything in the impenetrable darkness Blackbeard requires to sleep peacefully, he’d turn around in indignation. “So you expected something like this to happen?”

He can feel the smile against his scalp. “Call it wishful thinking. Doing nothing but kissing did take its toll.”

Huh. Seems like he was right.

Blackbeard really did plan on trying something.

[stardust-and-blades]

Hi love! I was wondering if you took emergency requests? I know you mostly do Klance, and I love them! But, a week ago I was verbally sexually harassed by my friend. It made me self conscious about my sexuality. (I'm a lesbian btw) and last night I had a nightmare that my friend...r**ed me. Do you think I can have Keith and Lance comforting the reader after waking up from this nightmare. Maybe Keith reminding her that there's nothing wrong with being gay? If you can't I understand. Thank you sm!

Hello there! First, I wanna say how sorry I am you had such a horrid nightmare and dealt with being harassed. That is not okay from anyone, even if they are your friend. I hope they leave you alone. I am a bisexual woman and though I have not experienced your exact situation, I have dealt with judgement from family. It isn’t fun and can do a lot of damage.

Secondly, I do not normally take reader requests. Personally I am not a fan of second-person. Like you have seen, I write mostly fanfiction from a third person point of view, and occasionally first person. I do not consider myself skilled in said POV, it is hard to convey, a bit confusing, and not my cup of tea. HOWEVER, I will try my best with what I can come up with!

Do be lenient with me, this may be a disaster >_< But if it’ll help, I’ll lend my hand to you.

Remember, you are not alone and there is nothing wrong with you. Love is love. 

Now, *cracks knuckles and bREAKS NECK* Lets try this out

-----------------

When you wake up, you’re in a cold sweat. The air around you is stifling. The blankets heavy, and for a moment you wonder if your bed is actually a coffin, ready to bury you away and suck the life from your bones until all that remains is a shell of a human.

You wipe your brow, slick with the remnants of the nightmare still lingering, a vivid, broken record player repeating the same horrible fear your so-called friend instilled in you.If you could reach in your head and pull out memories, you’d do it in a flash, removing the filthy, disgusting, wretched thing daring to plague your thoughts. It was real. Far too real. Yes you have been stressing about the incident for awhile, but you didn’t think it would be bad enough to enter what one would usually call a solace. A safe place among a reality ruled by chaos.

You switch on the light by your bedside, driving the shadows licking at your feet back to where they came from. You move out of the covers, feeling suffocated, and sit there, hearing nothing but the hum of the lamp and your erratic heartbeat.

You have closed your eyes, trying to think of something else. Something happy and comforting, but you just can’t get rid of this sense of...wrongness. The feeling of being and outlier and wondering if the nightmare lead to a truth.

You are so into your head that it takes you a couple minutes to realize you aren’t alone.

A red and blue hue glimmers against your eyelids. It is not harsh like the notifications of your phone, nor bright enough to make you assume your overhead lights were switched on. You peak through your dark eyelashes, sleep lingering at the corner of your eyes and a curiosity pushing aside the demons for a bit.

When you look, two very familiar boys stood before you. One with dark hair curving at the nape of his neck and eyes resembling the cluster of stars amidst a dusk night. The other with a darker skin color, tall and lanky, and the irises mirroring the seas of the beautiful and unknown. They smile, posing no threat or ill-intention. You do a double take, seeing if they would disappear the moment you blink, their bodies translucent. But they remain, the taller boy’s smile broadening ever slightly.

“You’re--”

“Lance,” he winks. “And this fireball is Keith. We heard your distress.”

“My...distress,” you say carefully. “This--this isn’t real. You guys are fictional. I must be dreaming still.”

“No, no dream.” Lance shakes his head, pointing to the window. “We are from the stars. I was going to come alone, but Keith over here is a sad pup whenever I leave.”

Keith rolls his eyes, nudging him with his elbow. “You know why I’m here, jackass.”

“Because you love me?”

“Literally not the point.”

“So you DO love me.” Lance’s eyes were practically sparkling.

Keith rubs his eyes, sighing. “I question my taste in men.”

Lance juts out his bottom lip, ocean blues big and watery. “How rude! And after I gave you a cute purple lion at the faire.”

You couldn’t help it, you giggle. It is funny to see the interaction take place, your focus less on your nightmare and more at the boys bickering, though with love placed in their hearts. It was nice, seeing something so natural. Sweet, even. It makes you feel less abnormal, though the slithering thing in your gut turned to remind you of why you are awake in the early hours of morning.

You cringe from the reminder, the boys noticing and quiet their conversation. They ask what is wrong, and you tell them as best you could without breaking into tears, though it proves challenging.By the time you’re finished, they are sitting by you, attentive and sympathetic, Lance offering his hand for you to take and Keith telling you you do not have to go into details. That is the great thing. They listen. Not once do they interrupt, shame you, or display signs of disappointment. They care not of why they were called, but genuinely concerned, the pain all too familiar.

You spill everything out. Even your insecurities. How you love girls rather than boys, your worry if the friend was right, whether there is something wrong with you or not. If you are someone in need of fixing; in need of divine intervention like so many have preached on television and on the streets. If you should force yourself to like boys rather than girls, and if you are deserving of love if you go against the hetero-normative standard friends and family kept badgering for.

They listen. But more importantly, they care.

“It’s scary,” Keith starts. “Not knowing if you belong. Being different. There is this whole expectation of you built up the moment you’re born, and if you don’t fulfill those expectations, it’s a gamble to be you. You don’t want to lose people, because you love the idea of being accepted. But you hate denying who you are, because it’s like slowly dying.”

“You love being loved. it’s a lot easier, but the closet you shoved yourself into becomes cramped.” Lance adds softly.

“I’m not you, and you are not me.” Keith says, looking to the sky. “We are very different. But if there is one thing I learned in my short life, being loved for all of you is the best feeling in the world. Being who you are, being what is right in your heart, it’s the wings you need to fly.”

He moves his gaze to you, and gives a warm smile. “Being gay--being you--is okay. There is nothing wrong with loving girls. You deserve to find love, even if it’s in a girl. Which would you rather be, feigning a marriage to a man and be miserable, or kicking the big man in the balls and smooching the hell out of the girl next door?”

“Keith, a true man of wisdom and words.” Lance jokes, earning him a flip of the bird. Lance smirks, it melting into understanding and kindness as he turns to you. “He is right, though. Honestly, that friend of yours can take a hike. You don’t need that negativity in your life. You deserve way better. And I mean five star better, not the bare minimum. Do not settle for less, go on and kiss the girl of your dreams. If I were to have remained closeted, I sure wouldn’t have been able to be with that man over there.” 

He points to Keith, the dark haired boy blushing. Lance then grabs some tissues nearby and wipes away your tears. Keith brings you water, and they remain by your side until you felt comfortable and sleepy enough to curl back into the covers. The boys tuck you into bed, and you are hit with a wave of melancholy, for you know they are about to leave.

‘Don’t look so sad. Chin up, buttercup.” Lance rustles your hair. “We aren’t leaving forever. We will be with you every step of the way. When the hours are late and all seems frightening, just know we are beside you. You may not be able to see us, but we are there.”

Lance grabs Keith’s hand, Keith squeezing back and not letting go. “you’re not as alone as you think you are.” Keith says. “Your found family is out there, excited for you to enter their lives. Hold onto that hope.”

“And no one is going to hurt you.” Lance continues. “Guard yourself and stay away from that friend of yours, if you can call them that. You are not a toy. You are a human being, and you should be treated like one.”

“Call on us if you need anything.” Says Keith. “We will be there.”

And so they were until you closed your eyes, filled with nothing but sweet dreams and a sense of a weight being lifted from your chest.

---------------

I really hope this helped a little bit, dear reader. If you feel in danger, please contact someone you trust or report it. The behavior of your friend is not acceptable and should not be tolerated. I’d deck them in the face if I could 

You are loved. You are strong. You are a badass.

Sincerely, Shania

[clairebear1298]

Hey look, it only took about a year this time to get anything written. I think I’m improving. And naturally, I chose Mother’s Day to publish a story primarily about fatherhood. What can ya do.

Story is also available here on FFN. Hope this was worth the wait.

“I think that some of these stories adult Sheldon is telling us through young Sheldon are reflections on ‘now that I have my own children, maybe I’m seeing that world through my dad’s eyes more clearly than I had.’ Those thoughts had been on my mind for awhile.”

-Steve Molaro, TV Guide

Three paces to the left. Turn. Three paces to the right. Turn. Repeat. And repeat, and repeat, and repeat, like the regimented ticks of the clock before it predictably strikes the hour.

He had promised Amy he would talk to him, and Sheldon Cooper never broke a promise. He wasn’t scared. Why on earth would he be, of someone a fifth his age and nearly two feet shorter than him? No, he simply wanted to be sure he handled this with… precision. Considerate but firm, generous but fair, yet still stealthy enough to get what he wanted in the end. Like Batman. Yes, exactly. Now he just had to put himself in the shoes of the greatest detective on earth to figure out just how to get this child to see things his way and then-

“Dad, just come in already. I can hear you thinking from in here.”

So much for being stealthy.

With a trepidation he could literally feel in his old, deteriorating bones (he was now over fifty, for goodness’ sake), Sheldon pushed the door open to find his son in the same position he always did, sprawled across his bed and scribbling furiously away in his notebook. Sometimes it was a story, other times a drawing, occasionally even a few lines of music. Not once, however, has it been an equation.

“Um, hi Matthew.” Swallowing hard, Sheldon scanned the room for a place to sit, but there was hardly a patch of a surface that wasn’t covered in books or loose sheets of paper. He remained in the doorway. “Do you think we could talk about what happened downstairs?”

Matthew sighed, but obediently closed his notebook and sat up to face his father. “I’m sorry for getting upset.”

Sheldon blinked. While true that Matthew had always been the sweetest, most agreeable of all his children, even this quick of an acquiescence was unexpected to say the least. Especially considering the subject of his son’s earlier blowup.

“Oh.” Sheldon stepped fully into the room and began to dig through the small mountain on Matthew’s desk chair, methodically organizing the papers by size, type, and date as he went. “Well, thank you. That’s very mature of you.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m changing my mind.”

Spoke too soon. Honestly, what kind of eleven-year-old was this uncompromising and stubborn?

Finally reaching his goal, Sheldon sat himself down on what felt like solid gold after all that pacing but was actually cheap, Target-bought plastic. His knees were practically level with his chin, but still he turned with the pride of a king to stare at his subject from across the bedroom. Matthew gazed resolutely back with large blue eyes just like his own, but that was where the resemblances stopped. Be it physically, with his cherubic gold curls and small stature, or personally, with his natural people skills, father and son could not be more different. If anything Matthew took after his mother- so much kindness and patience with just a hint of that headstrong spunk- but even between them there were some key differences. Most notably, their interests.

“Look, you’re still young,” Sheldon said, though even as he spoke the words tasted flat in his mouth. “I may have discovered my calling at an early age, but you can take as much time as you need to explore which branch of science will best suit you.”

“But I have decided,” Matthew protested. “Psychology.”

Sheldon couldn’t help but scoff. “Psychology doesn’t count. It’s just the humanities disguised as science.”

“Dr. Hofstadter is a psychiatrist,” Matthew pointed out.

“Yes, but she’s also a reputable neuroscientist, like your mother.” Then a thought occurred to him. “Maybe you can visit the lab with your mom and see the day-to-day life of a biologist.” It was no physics, but at this point Sheldon would take what he could get.

But Matthew shook his head, turning away. “I don’t want to experiment on animals or slice up human brains for science. I want to help people.”

“But science does help people, Matthew,” Sheldon argued. “It advances our understanding of the world so that-“

“I know, I know, you probably rocked me to sleep with that line when I was a baby,” said Matthew, still not looking at his father. “But I don’t want to be holed up in an office or a lab by myself. I like talking to people, helping them at a personal level. Not through some published paper that most of them won’t read, anyway.”

“But don’t you want to do something that impacts the whole world?” Sheldon asked. “Going into therapy might help a handful of people at best, but with the hard sciences you could make discoveries that help everyone. Those odds are much better, don’t you think?”

“You just don’t get it…” Matthew trailed off, then released a hard sigh and folded his legs into his body. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m not smart enough to by a physicist, anyway.”

That one sentence felt like a stab to Sheldon’s heart. No child of his was ever allowed to be stupid.

“That’s not true,” he said, a tad more harsh than he’d intended. “I know you’ve been struggling with math and science this year, but I could tutor you after dinner every night to get your grades back up.”

“I really don’t think that’ll help-“

“Clearly the American public school system has been failing you. I knew we should’ve gone private, if only your mother had listened-“

“Dad, you just need to give it up-“

“No!” Sheldon shot to his feet, scattering papers as he went. “You are my son, and you will not be a disappointment to me.”

The words seemed to suspend and permeate the air between them, slowly edging out the oxygen until Sheldon thought he would suffocate. Matthew didn’t look much better, going white as a ghost and staring back at his father with wide, frightened eyes. Then little by little his face began to crumble, and his eyes began to well up, until he finally collapsed fully into tears.

Sheldon had been wrong. This was what a stab to the heart felt like.

“No. No, no, no, no, no,” Sheldon chanted, crossing the room to his son. “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t cry.”

But cry he did, and without a second thought Sheldon sat on the bed and pulled Matthew into his arms. The boy clung to him and soaked his father’s shirt with his tears, but Sheldon didn't mind. Well, he did mind, but that wasn’t what mattered just then. Though Sheldon had never been a cuddler- even with Amy those times were few and far between- ever since he was a baby nothing soothed Matthew more than being held by his mother or father.

Sheldon waited until Matthew’s sobs settled into the occasional hiccup before bracing himself for the thing he hated most doing, and always would.

“I’m sorry, Matthew. I was wrong.”

“No, you weren’t,” Matthew said with a sniffle. “You and Mom are world famous Nobel winners, and no matter how hard I try I’ll never live up to that. Jane will, and maybe Laurie, but I won’t. I’ll always be the idiot black sheep of the family.”

Sheldon swallowed hard. He might have little to nothing in common with his son, but feeling like an outsider in your own family was certainly something he could understand.

“Listen to me.” Sheldon pulled away enough so he could look Matthew straight in the eye. “You’re not stupid. You’re not an idiot. You’re intelligent in ways I can never dream of.”

“Like what?” Matthew asked, timid but with the barest hint of hope in those blue eyes.

Sheldon hesitated. Not because he couldn’t think of anything, not even close, but he knew that saying them would be waving the white flag. By telling Matthew where his talents truly lay, he would be forced to admit that his own offspring, his eldest child and only son, would never follow in his own footsteps.

An image flashed through his head of a man with kind eyes and a warm smile, nodding along as his child prattled on about Aristotle and the science behind thunderstorms. It was a look that nine-year-old Sheldon wouldn’t have recognized, but fifty-one-year-old Sheldon certainly did. It was the same look Amy would give when one of the kids went on about nothing, or explained in vivid detail something she knew better than they did. That look of playing dumb that on Sheldon would look simply condescending, but on his wife the love would always shine through. Maybe that’s what his father used to do for him.

Sheldon felt a sudden new set to his shoulders. If his father could encourage his son to pursue something he himself had no interest in, let the child chase his dreams while putting his own aside, then so could he.

“You’re creative,” Sheldon began. “I could never begin to write or draw the way you do. I think that might be why I love comics and movies and shows so much. It’s something I could never do myself, but I can still admire the work of a genius in any form.”

For the first time since entering the room Matthew genuinely smiled, spurring Sheldon onward. “And you have academic intelligence, too. You’re a fifth grader who reads better than most high schoolers, and no one knows history like you do.”

Sheldon reached over to brush Matthew’s wild blond hair out of his face, never tearing his gaze from those vibrant blue eyes. “But most of all, you have emotional intelligence. More than anyone else I know. You can always tell when Laurie’s upset about something, or just how to get Jane out of her shell to have some fun. You’re a great kid, a fantastic older brother, and the best son I could ever ask for. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Least of all me. But Sheldon swallowed back that moment of guilt and self-pity and kept the attention on his son. It’s what his father would have done.

Matthew’s smile had widened to a full-on grin, and he launched himself back into their embrace. “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

Sheldon felt a sudden lump come to his throat, but he fought through it as he laid his head against his boy’s hair. “I love you, too.”

They spent a few more moments holding each other before Sheldon decided that was about as much sentimentality as he could take. As they broke apart, Sheldon reached over to grab one of the papers on Matthew’s desk. Maybe he could give this whole ‘playing dumb’ thing a try. “Now, this story you’ve been working on. When the Martians invade the pizza planet and gorge themselves to death, is that meant to be humorous or a social commentary on dietary consumerism?”

Close enough.

[daisychains4]

Strings (9/16)

Chapter 9: Imagination (Masterlist)

Warnings: None

Note: Italics are song lyrics

AN: This is the Shawn Mendes x reader AU teenage heartbreak story you didn’t know you needed.

*This chapter switches POV back and forth between Shawn and you. The horizontal line indicates a POV switch.

After he and Hailey had broken up, Shawn returned to his home in Toronto. He needed a break from Hollywood, he needed to focus on writing his album, and he needed to be around his family as much as possible.

Going to sleep in his own bed, he felt settled for the first time in a long time. It was that vulnerability that allowed his subconscious to conjure up images of you while he slept. He hadn’t dreamt about you in months.

He woke up thinking about you. He sat up sleepily and made his way to his large, open kitchen. He opened the cabinet above his coffeemaker, where the coffee should have been. Except Shawn hadn’t been home in months and his cabinet was empty.

“Nooooo,” Shawn moaned. He was going to be useless without caffeine.

He headed back upstairs to throw on clothes for the gym, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door.

———————————————————————

It was your turn to get coffee. You left Shade at the studio with Zoe, a teacher you were becoming close with, and headed down the street to the closest coffee shop. Someone from the studio went almost every day.

You were starting to settle into your new life. You’d found an affordable apartment for you and Shade that wasn’t too far outside downtown Toronto, where the studio was. It was small, but you didn’t need a lot of space, and rent was higher here than it had been in Edmonton.

Shade seemed happier than he had ever been. You could tell he missed Tori, but he fit right into his new studio family. The faculty and dancers adored and fawned over him, and he had a friend to play with while his mum worked. Zoe had a little girl, Selena, who was only six months older than Shade.

You still caught yourself thinking of Shawn often. Being so close to where you grew up made it hard for you to keep him out of your head. Any time you passed somewhere you had been together, you could see him so clearly you could swear it was him. You tried not to think about him as you made your caffeine run.

———————————————————————

Shawn was still thinking about you when he exited his favorite coffee shop near the gym. His dreams had been so vivid that he was seeing your face everywhere, on every stranger he passed. He ducked his head as he stepped further from the coffee shop entrance, hoping to avoid being recognized.

He was so distracted that when he turned the corner, his shoulder slammed hard into a woman who was walking the opposite direction. The coffee he had been holding was knocked from his hand, splashing onto the sidewalk below.

“I’m so—” he began as he looked up to apologize at the woman he’d run into. When he saw your face, the rest of his sentence caught in his throat. He shook his head, sure he was imagining that the woman staring back at him with an expression as shocked as his was you.

———————————————————————

Your mouth gaped at him. You were speechless, too.

In the half second of commotion that passed between dropping his coffee and recognizing you, someone recognized Shawn. Not a moment later, he was swept up by a crowd of excited fans.

At first, you were sure you had imagined that you had just run into — actually run into — Shawn on a crowded street in downtown Toronto. You pictured him everywhere you went. You’d seen his face countless times over the last three years and had been wrong every time.

But when you looked back at the crowd of people that had encircled Shawn, effectively splitting you apart in front of the coffeeshop, you knew it was him. You could hear people in the crowd excitedly shouting his name, asking for pictures with the star.

You didn’t know what to do or how to feel; you were so shocked, you turned and practically ran back to the studio. You’d come so far from the scared teenager you were when you found out you were pregnant, but you weren’t prepared to face your past.

———————————————————————

Oh, there she goes again

Every morning it's the same,

You walk on by my house,

I wanna call out your name.

Shawn tried to fight his way through the crowd — it was truly incredible how many people seemed to appear out of nowhere — but in the minutes that had passed, you had disappeared.

He took off down the street in the direction he thought you’d gone, but you were nowhere to be found. Finally, he turned, walked back to his car, and drove dejectedly home.

Three days later, he was moping on his couch. He had thought of nothing but you. He closed his eyes and conjured the image of you, staring wide-eyed at him from just feet away. You had opened your mouth as if to speak, but no words had come out.

He mentally compared you to the seventeen-year-old version of you. You were now more beautiful than ever. You still wore your (Y/HC) hair in loose waves. You looked like you were coming from a dance class; you wore tight black leggings under a loose shirt, which had always been your preference for practice. Your legs looked longer, leaner, and more appealing than ever. You were a little thinner than he remembered, especially in your face. The biggest difference was your eyes — maybe it was because you were shocked to see him, but your eyes didn’t hold the mischievous, carefree glint he remembered. You almost looked sad.

He had frantically tried to find you on social media, although he’d searched for you on random lonely nights many times before and found nothing. He’d even enlisted the help of his closest friends. He was determined to find you. Even if you didn’t want to see him, he had to try.

I wanna tell you how beautiful you are from where I'm standing

You got me thinking what we could be 'cause...

———————————————————————

You were watching Shade play on the playground of a small park near your apartment when your phone rang. You exhaled a sigh of relief when you saw Tori’s name across the screen.

“You have no idea how much I need you right now,” you said by way of answering the phone.

“Hi (Y/N)!” Tori said happily. “Miss me?”

“You have no idea,” you sighed.

“You don’t like the new studio?” Tori asked.

“No, it’s not that, I am starting to really like it here. But Tori, I saw him. I saw Shawn. He’s here.”

“In Toronto? I thought he lived in LA.”

“He doesn’t. I Googled him. He lives here. I ran into him outside a coffee shop.”

“You ran into him! Like—“

“I literally ran into him. Or — maybe he ran into me. It happened so fast, and there was coffee everywhere—“

“Ok, ok, slow down. Start from the beginning.”

You recounted every detail of her brief encounter with Shawn.

“And you’re absolutely sure it was him?”

“Yes! I looked on Twitter. People were posting selfies with Shawn outside the same coffeeshop I was going to on the day I saw him. It was definitely him.”

“But you didn’t talk to him.”

“No! Haven’t you been listening? I freaked out and took off. I didn’t know what else to do. I was just standing there, gaping at him like an idiot. And then this big crowd swarmed him and I split. What else could I do?’

“Well here’s an idea,” Tori said sarcastically. “You could have talked to him. You’ve been pining over him for three years, and you finally get a chance to talk to him, and you run away?”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“Ok, let’s pretend I’m Shawn.”

“What? No! What’s the point of that?”

“Look, do you want to see him again or not?”

“I don’t know,” you said nervously. “I guess. Yes. Of course I do,” you admitted.

“Then you need to be ready to talk to him. So. Let’s pretend I’m him. What would you say?”

“I guess I would tell him that I’m sorry I left him and that I didn’t have a choice.”

“Ok, that’s a good start. What else?”

“I’d have to tell him about Shade. But how do I even—” Tori could hear the stress in your voice.

“(Y/N), listen. If Shawn is as a great of a guy as you say he is, he’ll want to know about Shade. He’ll want to be part of his life.”

“What if he tries to take him away from me?” you asked.

“Does that sound like the Shawn you knew?”

You thought about the Shawn you knew. The goofy, sweet, loving, sensitive, caring Shawn who would never do anything to hurt anyone. Who always put everyone else before himself. “No, that’s not the Shawn I knew. But I don’t know him anymore.”

“Then maybe you don’t start with Shade. Not right away, anyway. Maybe you just start by getting to know him again. And letting him get to know you. You know, you’ve also changed a lot since you were seventeen.”

You thought about what Tori had said. You thought maybe, just maybe, if you saw Shawn again, you would be ready to talk to him.

———————————————————————

I keep craving, craving

You don't know it but it's true

Can't get my mouth to say the words they wanna say to you.

This is typical of love,

Can't wait anymore, I won't wait

I need to tell you how I feel when I see us together forever

Shawn was still moping on his couch that evening, but he was sitting up and a couple of friends had joined him for a chill night of video games and takeout, so his condition had improved slightly. He had just finished telling the story of running into you.

Ian, Shawn’s friend since grade school, was flabbergasted. “I can’t believe she’s here. No one has heard from her in years!”

“So will you see her again?” asked Matt.

“I want to, but I don’t know how to find her. I tried following her, but by the time I got out of the mob, she was gone.”

“Did you look on Instagram?” asked Brian.

“Yes,” Shawn replied.

“Twitter?”

“Yeah.”

“Snapchat?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Facebook?”

“What? No one’s on Facebook anymore,” Shawn responded. “But yes, I did look.”

“What day did you say you saw her?” Ian asked.

“Uh… Tuesday,” Shawn calculated.

“At the coffee shop on Church?”

“Yes,” Shawn answered.

Ian was thumbing through his phone. “Here?” Ian asked, holding up his phone for Shawn to see the screen.

Shawn saw picture after picture of the mob scene that people had tweeted. “Yeah, that was right after I saw her.”

Ian took back his phone and began looking through the pictures carefully.

“She left, she won’t be in those pictures. There’s no point in looking,” Shawn sounded defeated.

After a few minutes of searching, Ian held up the phone again. “Is that her?” he asked.

Shawn looked closely at the woman he thought Ian was indicating. “No, that’s not her. I mean yeah, she’s got (Y/HC) hair, but that doesn’t look anything like her.”

Ian looked at the screen again. “Not her, her,” he said, pointing to the back of a woman’s head. A (Y/HC) woman. Shawn could tell she was wearing black leggings and boots. He thought he remembered you were wearing boots.

Shawn practically jumped from the couch, grabbing the phone out of Ian’s hands. “That’s her! At least it could be her!” he said excitedly.

Matt and Brian both reached for the phone to see, but Shawn wouldn’t let it go. He was zooming into the picture to see if there was any detail that would prove it was you. Whoever she was, she was walking away from the camera. Her (Y/HC) hair was flying out from behind her as though she had turned quickly to walk away. She appeared to have just thrown her bag over her shoulder as she was turning around. Shawn zoomed in further — and that’s when he saw it.

“Look, on the bag!” he exclaimed. “Do you see it?”

Ian peered over Shawn’s shoulder to look at the picture again. “Is that a logo?” he asked, squinting at her bag.

“I think so!” Shawn was beside himself with excitement. “What does it say?”

Matt took the phone back. “I think that’s a Z. Or… an L?”

Brian disagreed. “Are you an idiot? That’s definitely a T.”

Ian looked at it again. “What’s that above the T or whatever that big letter is?”

“Looks like maybe sturdy,” said Brian.

“Stupid?” asked Matt.

“You’re stupid,” Brian sniggered.

Shawn shoved him. “Stoned? That’s definitely an ‘st,’” Shawn said. “Maybe.”

“Stucco?” Ian suggested. “She works for a stucco company!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“Now who’s the stupid one?” Brian asked.

“Stucco…” Shawn thought. “Stuuuh… studio? STUDIO! It’s a dance studio!” He was jumping up and down in excitement.

“Ok let’s Google it. Studio… T,” Matt typed on his phone. “There’s a Tremaine Studio. Could the T stand for Toronto? There’s nothing called ‘Studio Toronto.”

“What about Studio Z?”

“Nothing.”

Ian was squinting at the picture of the logo again. “Could it be a 7?”

“Studio 7— that sounds like a club! Is she that kind of dancer?” Brian looked sideways at Shawn, who smacked him in the shoulder.

“Studio 7!” Matt shouted. “Look at the logo! It looks like the bag!”

Shawn was jumping up and down on the couch now. “She must dance there!”

“Look at the website, look at the website!” Ian was bouncing on his toes.

Matt navigated to the Studio 7 site and began looking through the company page. “I don’t see her,” he said, disappointedly.

“Maybe she works there,” Brian added, helpful for the first time that night.

“She’s not on the faculty page either,” Matt said after a minute of searching.

“Can we call?” asked Ian. They waited impatiently while he looked up the studio hours.

“They’re closed until 8:00 am,” Matt said.

After his friends had left, Shawn lay awake in his bed, thinking about you. He would go to Studio 7 in the morning. When he finally managed to fall asleep, he dreamt of you.

In my dreams you're with me.

We'll be everything I want us to be.

And from there — who knows?

Maybe this will be the night that we kiss for the first time.

Or is that just me and my imagination?

———————————————————————

You and Shade opened the studio at seven the next morning. You needed to spend some time working on a combination before your morning contemporary class started, and you wanted to leave some of your anxiety on the floor. Dancing always made you feel better.

———————————————————————

Shawn was standing outside the studio door at twenty to seven. He had waited as long as he could to leave his house, but his excitement — and his nerves — had gotten the better of him. He wore a baseball cap and sunglasses, hoping to remain anonymous in the busy city. He didn’t want another scene like before.

He peered in the studio windows. They were reflective, so he had to put his face against the glass to see inside. He jumped slightly when he realized a woman was staring back at him from inside. She walked around the large counter she had been standing behind and approached the door. She pointed to the sign on the door that indicated the studio hours, and then to her left wrist to indicate that he was too early.

“Please,” he plead through the door. He took off his sunglasses, hoping the woman might recognize him and let him in.

She didn’t recognize him right away, but the pathetic look in his eyes made her unlock the door and open it just enough to poke her head out. “Can I help you?”

“Hi. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I’m looking for someone. I think she dances here. Or maybe works here.”

“Who are you looking for?” Zoe asked.

“(Y/N) (Y/LN),” Shawn said hopefully.

“There’s no one here by that name,” she said.

The hopeless look that crossed Shawn’s face nearly broke Zoe’s heart.

“But...” Zoe paused thoughtfully. “We do have a (Y/N) with a different last name.”

Shawn wondered if they could be talking about the same woman. If they were, and you were going by a different name, that would explain why he’d never been able to find you online.

“(Y/HC) hair? (Y/EC) eyes? About this tall?” Shawn asked, holding his hand up to indicate your height. “I have a picture of her,” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone.

Zoe held her hand up. “No, it’s ok. I’ll just go get her for you. You can wait down here.” She opened the door further to let Shawn into the lobby. She turned to go up a set of spiral stairs to the studio where you were warming up.

———————————————————————

“Hey, (Y/N), there’s some guy here to see you,” Zoe said as she walked across the space to where you were stretched out on the floor. Shade was adorably mimicking your stretches. Or trying to, at least.

“What guy?” you asked curiously.

“I don’t know, but he’s tall, dark, and hot,” Zoe said. “He’s waiting downstairs.”

You gasped. It had to be Shawn. “What did he say?”

“He just said he was looking for you. Well, actually, he said he was looking for (Y/FN) (Y/LN). Is that you?”

“I just use (Y/fake LN) professionally. (Y/LN) is my real last name.”

“Well I guess he found the right girl, then. You going to go talk to him?” Zoe asked.

“I guess I have to.” you hesitated before you walked downstairs. “Zoe, could you keep an eye on Shade for me? Keep him up here?”

“Sure,” Zoe agreed.

You glanced in the mirror on your way out the door. It could be worse, you thought, looking over your faux leather leggings and black sports bra with a baggy open flannel on top. You ruffled your hair, attempting to give it a little more life. It would have to do.

You stood at the top of the stairs. Shawn was standing in the lobby, his back to you. He looked taller than you remembered, and his hair was longer, but it was him. You took a last deep breath before making your way down.

You were almost to the bottom of the stairs when Shawn turned around. You heard him inhale sharply. You stepped onto the landing and stopped. He was just feet away. Neither of you moved and neither of you spoke for a long moment.

Finally, he broke the silence. “(Y/N),” he whispered.

You took a tentative step forward. “Hi Shawn,” you said. You didn’t sound nearly as nervous as you felt. “It’s been a long time.”

He smiled. “Too long.”

Your head dipped down. You didn’t know what to say.

Shawn crossed the room in three steps. He was suddenly right in front of you, so close you could touch him, and you wanted to. Without thinking, you reached your hand up as if to touch his arm, but paused halfway there. You didn’t know if he would want you to touch him after everything you had put him through.

But he did want to touch you. He took one more step forward and wrapped you in his arms. You hesitated, only briefly, before you brought your arms up to encircle his waist. You let out a breath that you felt like you’d been holding for years. You felt Shawn’s mouth brush the top of your head gently.

When you finally pulled apart, you and Shawn both had tears in your eyes.

“I don’t know what to say,” you confessed, smiling.

He beamed back at you. “Have you been here all this time?” His hands were still on your arms, as though he was afraid you would disappear if he let go.

“No,” you were crying in earnest now. “My mum moved us to Edmonton after—” you couldn’t bring yourself to finish your sentence. He knew what you meant. “I’ve only been here for a month.”

“You’re still dancing,” Shawn said, looking around at the studio lobby.

“Choreographing mostly. And teaching,” you said. “And you. You’re taking over the world.”

Shawn blushed. “It’s been quite a ride.”

“Well listen,” you started. “My class is about to show up—”

“Can I see you again? Can we,” Shawn interrupted you, “can we get together? And talk?”

You thought about all of the things you needed to tell him, and knew it would be the hardest thing you ever had to do. Harder even than leaving him behind all those years ago. “Yes,” you said finally. “There are things we need to say.”

We walk, we laugh, we spend our time

Walking by the ocean side.

Our hands are gently intertwined,

A feeling I just can't describe.

All this time we spent alone

Thinking we could not belong

To something so damn beautiful,

So damn beautiful.

You and Shawn met at a nearby Lake Ontario marina the next evening. Shawn had suggested it — he liked walking by the water and he frequented this particular spot because it seemed no one recognized him there. You had left Shade with Zoe and Selena, although it made you nervous. You’d never left Shade with anyone but Tori before.

At first, the conversation was awkward. Although you had three years worth of catching up to do, Shawn could tell that you were holding back.

Shawn was furious as he listened to you recount your move from Pickering to Edmonton. He clenched his fists as you told him the things your mum did, and especially the things she had said to you.

“But then I met the most amazing woman, Tori, who owns a studio there. She let me work around the studio so that I could dance for free, and after I moved out of my mum’s house, she took me in, too.”

“When did you move out?”

“Before I graduated. I just… couldn’t take it anymore,” you said vaguely. “And then I started working at the studio full time and finished high school online—”

“Hey, me too!” Shawn interrupted, excited that you had something in common. He had no idea how different your experiences had been.

“Over the years my choreography started getting some attention. And then Studio 7 picked me up, and as much as I didn’t want to leave Tori, the opportunity was too good to pass up. So here I am,” you finished.

“What about your mum?” Shawn asked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “We haven’t spoken since I moved out. I don’t think I can ever forgive her for what she did to me. For what she did to us.”

You had been walking side by side, but Shawn stopped and turned to look at you. You had that sad look in your eye again, the one that told him there might be more to the story than you were ready to share.

“But my life has been so boring compared to yours!” you perked up as you began walking along the water again. “World tours, awards, record-breaking hits, famous girlfriends—”

“One famous girlfriend,” Shawn corrected. “Well. One famous ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh?” you asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“She was just… she wasn’t…” Shawn wanted to say she wasn’t you, but he didn’t want to scare you away. “It was never going to work out. It was over for a long time before we broke up.”

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

“I’m not,” he replied.

I keep craving, craving, you don't know it, but it's true.

Can't get my mouth to say the words they wanna say to you.

This is typical of love,

Can't wait anymore, I won't wait

I need to tell you how I feel when I see us together forever.

In my dreams you're with me

We'll be everything I want us to be.

And from there — who knows?

Maybe this will be the night that we kiss for the first time,

Or is that just me and my imagination?

The awkwardness between you dissipated more the longer you talked. Shawn was hopeful that you were finding your way back to each other, the way he’d always dreamed you would. His hand itched to reach for yours, but he put his hands in his pockets instead. In some ways, you reminded him of a wild animal — it seemed you might bolt at any moment.

When you reached the end of the marina, you turned to look out over Lake Ontario as the sun set across the water. Shawn took a deep breath, then slowly placed his arm around your shoulder. He felt your body stiffen momentarily before you relaxed into his touch. It felt so natural to him, like you had never been apart. He wanted to hold you and never let you go.

You stood in silence as the sky darkened around you. You both knew there was more to say, but for the moment, you were content to simply breathe each other in. The awkwardness had been replaced with a new kind of tension Shawn could feel humming between you. He clutched your body to his a little more tightly, only to have you pull away, slowly untangling your arms.

“I should go,” you said.

“But—” Shawn began to protest.

“I really need to get back home. But this was nice,” you conceded.

“Can I see you again?” Shawn blurted out before you could flee. The hope in his eyes was evident. “Take you to dinner?”

You thought your heart might explode then and there. You longed to close the distance between you and feel his arms wrap around you again, to feel his lips on yours. But you knew that you had to tell him the truth before you went any further.

“Shawn, there’s something you should know,” you said.

Shawn’s face fell. “Oh. Is there… is there someone else?”

You just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Not yet. The fear of losing your son overcame you. “Yes,” you said before you thought about what that would mean.

“Oh. I see.” It felt like his heart might shatter. “Is it serious?” he asked after a long silence.

“It’s pretty serious,” you said, thinking of your son.

“I see,” Shawn said dejectedly. But he still wasn’t ready to give up on you. “But can I still see you? As a friend? I mean, after all this time. I’m just not ready to say goodbye again.”

“Of course,” you smiled sadly. “Friends.”

For now, Shawn would accept that.

In my dreams you're with me

We'll be everything I want us to be

And from there — who knows?

Maybe this will be the night that we kiss for the first time,

Or is that just me and my imagination?

I keep craving, craving

You don't know it, but it's true.

Can't get my mouth to say the words they wanna say to you...

[tenaciousarcadeexpert]

The Switch(Part 5)

@marvelfanlife, @dontshootmespence, @literallyprentissstwin, @butsomeofusarelookingatthestars, @ultrarebelheart, @itsmeedee, @thebutterflyxx​, @cynbx, @jaqren, @captainreid​

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

   After completing the case, the team gather on the plane as they head back home. Knowing that the unsub was a former researcher in spiders, the team laughed in amusement at the thought of someone trying to make a breakthrough in spiders, much to Matt’s dismay. At the same time, he and Reid sat far away from the team. Reid couldn’t help but stare at Matt as he sleeps. It felt weird to actually see himself out of his body as he observes his posture. Was he always like this. Seeing his friend in his own body was still a weird concept, yet so fancy. He always wonder what it’s like to be in the shoes of one of his friends and here he was, literally in someone else’s shoes, or in Matt’s case, boots. He wonder what his friend was thinking before falling asleep.

    Suddenly, he starts to toss and turn as he sees vivid images flashing through his head. It was hard to get a clear picture yet somehow, he was able to interpret most of the dream. From flashing lights, to bright lights, loud music and echoes of laughter and cheering, Reid since that there was something to it. Though, this tends to happen to any person who’s curious of the dream, but was it just any dream? As he tries to focus on even the slightest detail, he stops to see a sight of Matt, in his own body of course, smiling at him. It turns out that he was dreaming at the night he and Matt went out for a couple of drinks. The next thing he sees is a petite woman with several color streaks in her hair handing them two glasses containing a drink which has an odd yellow-green color. Still, it didn’t concern the two as they both grab the drinks, raising their glass before drinking.

“Bottoms up, Spence.” Matt said, as he and Reid tap their glasses together before chugging down on their drinks. Suddenly, a flash of multiple images reappear which prompted Reid to wake up. He slightly lift his head up from his seat. Fortunately, his actions did not alert the team, as they were still laughing over their conversations about spiders, though he did see Matt wake up, sensing that he too had a similar dream as he rubs his head.

“Spence, were you..” “Dream? Yes, a rather interesting dream.”

“Yeah, nothing but lights and blurred images flashing in my head.”

“You don’t think it means anything, does it?” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.” “Yeah, me neither.” The two chuckle in amusement, only to stop as Reid hears Matt’s phone buzz. As Matt, he picks up the phone to see a text from Kristy. He then looks to his friend.

“Was that Kristy?”  Reid nods. “Uh huh. She’s asking me if we just finished the case. What should I say?”

“Well, what did she send?”

Reid then looks at the text. “She’s asking if we just finish the case.”” “Just say yes.” Reid then texts “Yes.” before placing the phone down. Just as he was about to rest again, he heard another buzz, prompting him to pick up the phone.

“What did she say?” “Uhhhh, let’s see. She said, well I just drop of the kids at my folks’ place on a road trip and won’t return till Sunday. Which means we have the house alone.” He then looks up to Matt before staring down at the phone again. “And she also texted like two emojis.”

“Well, what emojis did she send?” Matt asked, curious.

Reid squints his eyes on the phone screen. “One looks like a wink and the other looks like a.....smooch? Matt, do you know what this means?” “Seriously? You’re a genius, I’m sure you know how to interpret a text?” “Gee, thanks, although the only thing I can interpret is that the kids aren’t home and that both of you have the house to yourselves for the next few days. I’m not sure what the emojis mean but I guess she just can’t wait for ‘you’ to come home.” He then watched as Matt tries to figure out what Kristy has just texted him. He then extends his arm to Reid.

“Give me the phone.” Reid then hands him the phone as he reads the text, only to stop as his eyes start to widen with concern. “Well, you got most of it correct, but I do have a feeling of what those emojis mean.” “You do? Well, tell me.”  “Uh...........do you really want to know?” “Of course? If it means something then I need to know what it means. Besides, how bad could it be?” Matt was baffled by his response. “Clearly if you knew what it’s like to be married, you’d probably understand.” “Huh?” He rubbed his face in annoyance as he leaned close to Reid as a way to make sure to not alert the team. “Goddammit Spence, she’s teasing you-me, which is a sign for sex. Basically, she wants to have sex.”

“Oh, OHHHHH.” Reid responds as he realized what Matt was referring to. “My god, Matt. Do you and Kristy always....get intimate whenever the kids are away.” “Eh, when you’ve been married for almost ten years and spent most of your life away from your family........” Reid looked at him with disgust. “Damn Matt, you horndog.” “Woah Spence, Kristy and I are not like that-” “I always wonder why you tend to arrive late to work with you hair all disheveled, now I know. Seriously, you and Kristy should come up with better hobbies. Just.....dude.” “Well, it is what it is.”

“Yeah.....wait a second, that means she’ll be expecting you to come home, not me, which ohhhh.” Matt tries to comfort Reid as he dreads the possibility of making love to his friend’s wife. "I don’t want to do this.” “Don’t worry, I won’t let this happen, we just need to come up with a solution.”

“Well, should I say no?” “What?! No, it’ll make her think that I’m hiding something behind her back.” “Well technically, we are. But still, I don’t want to stab you in the back by accepting her advances. It’s against my character.” They then look to see the plane slowly landing back to Quantico before turning back to each other.

“I know Spence, I know.” He then taps him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, as soon as we land, we’ll come up with something, I promise.” “This feels weird.” Kristy said as she hugs her husband, who happens to be in the body of his friend. “I know.”

 Hours after they land, the team decides to go out for a couple of drinks while Matt and Reid head over to his house. After dropping Reid off, Reid nervously walks inside, wondering what Kristy has in store, unaware of the situation that is going between the two of them.

“Hello? Kristy? I’m home.” Reid nervously asked. He looked around to see the living room dimly lit, apart from the kitchen. He walked up inside to see the a platter of fruit, a couple of empty wine glasses and a champagne bottle on the coffee table, as well as the sofa covered in rose petals. Just then, he is suddenly startled as he felt a couple of soft, delicate hands cover his eyes. He gently pulled them away as he turns to see Kristy in a fancy olive green dress smiling at him.

“Jesus Kristy, you almost scared me.” Reid respond, staying in character.

“Well, I uh wanted to surprised you...and it works.” She caress her husband’s  face as Reid smiles uncomfortably. “Soo......you uh want to know how my day has been?” He asked, trying to break away the impending awkwardness between the two. Soon, the awkward continues to intensify as she wraps her arms around him. This causes him to fall onto the sofa, bringing Kristy even much closer to him.

“Really Matt? You wanna talk about that?”  “You know, you’re right, we can talk about this later. Maybe some dinner?” She smirked at him. “Well, dinner sounds nice, but...” She then leans over by his ear. “I’d think I’d rather have dessert first.” Reid gasped as he felt her hand slide under his shirt, Matt’s shirt.  At this moment, he was already panicking on the inside.  Not wanting to startle her and hurt his friend at the same time, he tries to come up with something that’ll make her stop. He then looked with despair as she leans over to kiss him.

“S-Spencer.” Just then, Kristy stops as she hears her “husband” say a word. “Excuse me?” “Uh...Spencer. Yeah, I sorta asked him to come over since he accidentally left something here the last time he looked after the kids.” “Oh.” She then pulls herself up. “Okay, where is he?” “He’s in the van.” “You didn’-” “No, of course not. Should I ask him to come in?” She sighs. “Just give me ten minutes.” “Okay.”  Ten minutes have passed as Kristy cleans up all of the rose petals on the sofa, blows out the candles and placing the champagne away before heading to the bedroom to grab a sweater that she wears over her dress. She then returns to see Reid in the living room, unaware that it’s her actual husband inside.

“Hi Spencer.” “Hi.” Matt said knowing as much as he is relieved to see his wife, does not want to startle her.

“So Matt told me you left something here while looking after the kids.” “Oh yeah, it was a children’s book. The Illustrated Tales of King Arthur. That’s the one. The kids loved it, David especially to the point that we’d start playing knights and dragons. Well, don’t worry, I already have it. It was hidden underneath the sofa. Those little twins, good hiders though.” He chuckled awkwardly as he stares at Reid, who just glares at him indifferently.

“I see. So, are you about to leave?”

“Y-yeah.” Just as he walks to the door, Reid stops him.

“Actually Kristy, there’s another reason why he’s here.” “Okay, what is it?” Matt glares at him, as the two hover over each other and whisper before approaching Kristy. Reid takes a deep breath before saying something. 

“The truth is Kristy, Reid and I are not what they appear to be.” He then clutched his head as he comes up with a good explanation to her. 

She looked at him with concern. “Wait, you’re not-” “What? No, no. We would never do that. No, just no.” “So, what is it?” “The truth is.....Spence and I.” Just then, Kristy starts to get impatient, causing Matt to interrupt him.

“For fuck’s sake, something happened to the both of us. We don’t know how this happened or why but what we know is that our minds are completely switched. Spence is in my body, I’m in his. We basically switched bodies.” He then looks to Reid. “There.” Kristy looks at them with confusion and turns to her husband. “Is this true Matt? Please tell me he’s joking.” “I-I’m sorry, but you’re talking to the wrong man. I’m not Matt, he is. And he’s telling that truth, he really is.”

Kristy looks at them with confusion, only to burst into laughter seconds later, much to the two’s dismay.

“Seriously Kristy? Why are you laughing? This isn’t a joke.” “Oh Matt, honey. You’re cute, you and Spencer both. You think that’s something I can believe?” “We’re not joking, this is no joke, we’re serious. And I’m not Matt, I’m Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid.” “Okay doctor.” While laughing, Reid looks at Matt, as he tries to come up with something to convince Kristy that what they’re saying is true.

“Say something.” “Like what.” “Obviously, something only you know about Kristy. “Alright.” He then calls out his wife. “Kristy!”  “Yeah Doctor?” She mocked. 

“Look, this seems like we’re just playing you, but we’re not. You know how much your husband would never fool you like this.” “Are you gonna profile me?” “Yea-No! No, I’m not, cause this isn’t Reid, it’s me. Matthew, your husband. I’m speaking through the body of my friend. Weird, I know, but it’s true.” “Uh huh. Prove it.” “Well, I know that you like to be called ‘Kristy’ cause it just sounds better and you thought your actual name, ‘Christine’ was too formal.” “Yeah, keep going.” “I know that you tried saying something flirty in Korean, only to backfire since I thought it sounds like you were saying ‘The cat ate the cheese’ and you didn’t understand why I was laughing.” “Clever, but I’m sure Spence is smart enough to understand Korean. Keep going.” “Well, I know that you have a special vibrator that you only use it when you wanna spice things up.”

“Yea-what?!” Kristy said, realizing what he just said. She looked at Matt who continues to spill out some details that only he knows about her.

“You even have a small birthmark which I know is at the upper part of your inner right thigh. You even liked it when I kiss you on the left side of your neck and touch the spot below your waist and hipbones. You even get turned on when you get to dominate in bed.” 

“Seriously?! You’re saying all this right here and now with Spencer here?!”

“Yeah seriously?” Reid looked as he overhears Matt jotting down details of his and Kristy’s sexlife. He then looks on with disgust, trying to not imagine the erotic details playing in his head. “Damn Kristy.” He murmured  as he looks at her.

“And I know you got nervous one time when yo-” “Okay, okay, I got it. Wow.” Kristy stayed silent for a moment as she struggles to believe that what Matt is saying is true as she squeezed her forehead. She then looks at Matt, in Spencer’s body.  “Well, is there anything that you know about me which doesn’t have anything to do with our sex-life?” “I remember the time we first met in college. How I’d sometimes see you in the library. I was worried to talk to you cause I fear that you’d reject me. You saw how lonely I was and you offer to sit beside me as we study. I even know how much you smile everytime I come home and can easily sense that I’m here, even without having to kiss or hug you. I also know that the time my grandparents didn’t want to do anything with me cause I was Korean and how much it affected me, you touched my face and said, “It doesn’t matter what I look cause all I see is a wonderful man that I love and appreciate. They may not love you but I do. There is nothing that could change the way I see you.” Moved by his words, Kristy shed a couple of tears. “Matt?” She croaked.

“It’s me.” He smiled. Suddenly Kristy walks over and hugs him, while Reid watched, glad to know that his friend has reunited with his wife despite hugging him in the wrong body.

“Why must this happen to you? To the both of you?” “I don’t know hun, I don’t know.”

“Well this is weird, really weird. I’m hugging you but it’s not really you. Just you in a friend’s body.” “I know, I don’t blame you.” She slowly pull away from the hug as she looked at the two men, still processing the fact that they switched bodies. “Well, is there anything you recall before this happened?” Just as Matt was about to answer, he suddenly felt a slight dizziness in his head.  “Matt, are you okay?” She asked.

As he looked at his wife, he suddenly sees the same images flashing in his head, images of what appears to be from the same dream Reid experienced not long ago. Unable to bear the images flashing in his head, added with the constant echoes of people laughing, he drops down on his knees, collapsing on the floor.

“Matt! Oh my god!” Kristy yelled as Matt lies on the floor unconscious. As she taps his head, Reid suddenly suffers the same dizziness as he does. Kristy then looks up to see him rub his head.

“Spence...” Within moments, Spencer collapsed to the ground. As Kristy gets up, she couldn’t help but tremble as her husband and friend lay on the floor unconscious. Rubbing her head, not knowing what to do, she pulls out her phone, dialing the number.

“Hello? Garcia? Yeah? Is Emily with you? Oh, everyone. Well, tell them to come. We have a situation here and I need your help, all of it. Okay, thanks.” Kristy then hangs up as she looked down on Matt and Reid’s bodies. If what they say is true, then they could really use the team’s help, if only they knew how to help them.

[yoolee]

I love character analysis posts and you always give so much detail and thought about these precious lords. Would you be able to do an analysis on Kenshin? His main story is a bit confusing at points but we know he's depressed either because of the pressure of being labeled the God of War or over feeling guilty over Kagetsugu's sister for some unknown reason. I just wondered what your thoughts were on this?

Ahaahaa a) thank you, both for the ask, and for saying so! and b) I am so sorry. I AM SO SORRY.

Before I do anything lemme link you to THISbecause it’s one of my favorite theories even if we know it’s not canon.

NOW. It’s been awhile since I’ve read his route and he doesn’thave as much content as some of the other lords so my grasp here is LESS basedon little details the story gives us and more on OVERALL IMPRESSIONS and weknow that personal experience colors our impressions significantly, so, yes, yourmileage may vary.

TOO LONG, DON’T WANNA READ VERSION: I think Kenshin’s treasury is a metaphor for his dissonant worldperception – one where he fundamentally viewsneeds  (ie, hunger of these 400 people he has to seefed and the loneliness of a single old man) as equal in value, and the fact heknows other people don’t see it that way, the constant need to prioritizethings he perceives as equal value (because he is a leader and he has to and he knows/accepts this) drives his sense of guilt, as does hisperception of beauty (which, in yoolee’s head, extends to violence) which allin turn fuels his melancholy.

When I think of Kenshin I think: BEAUTY, GUILT, & DYSPHORIA/DISSONANCEIN WORLD PERCEPTION.

Imma work backwards and start with that last one.

Have you ever witnessed or experienced something and had amoment of dissonance where like, literally no one else in the room (in theclass, on the street, etc) realizes the significance of something? Going backto lee-experience here – junior year of high school (age ~16/17), we wereassigned to read The Things They Carried, and I started reading it over lunch.I had never skipped class in my lifebut I was late to my next period because I ended up vomiting in the girl’sroom. I was so shook up. There was this idea of truth that just, wholly and entirely rocked my worldview, and youadd in the idea of war, and what it does to people, and the fact this was validand generally accepted to be autobiographical depiction of it and just—it messedme up. And there was the rest of the class, going on about basketball and Spanishlines and rehearsal schedules and I was like WHY DOES NO ONE ELSE GET THIS. Andthen you wonder—did I interpret it wrong? Is this just me?

I think Kenshin’s entireperception of the world around him is in constant dissonance with everyone around him, and I think he haslong, LONG given up on trying to explain it, because if he is the only one thatsees something, it’s probably him that’s broken and not everyone else, and ifit hurts him so much why would he tryand explain it to someone else when they aren’t hurting now? He’s not going todo that.

(I think to a great extent he would still have this inmodern times, but there would be other outlets and willingness to accept and beopen to it, and probably overall more people like that, and less decisionmaking that would cause this to cause pain, as it does, for reasons BELOW)

SO.

WHAT DOES THAT PERCEPTION LOOK LIKE.

I think, specifically, it’s the perception of value of things where Kenshin radicallydiffers from…like, everyone. It isn’t necessarily that his view is any morepoetic or any less pragmatic than,for example, Kanetsugu – in fact, I think Kenshin sees the world much more honestly than most people. Ithink the world he sees is very real, toa point of being too real. I don’tthink Kenshin can walk away from something and put it out of his mind.

Like, imagine a restaurant. And shuffling carefully, slowly—becausemoving is hard and it hurts—to a corner table, all by himself, is an old man.And there’s no one there to eat with him, and there’s no one waiting at home,and he eats in silence, except for the brief interactions with the harriedwaiter—but his face lights up at even those, until the waiter drops off thecheck, and the man counts out his change, leaves it on the table, and, withoutanyone to say goodbye as he goes, leaves.

For some people, witnessing loneliness is a sting, and thenthey go back to their life. You may not fully register it.

I don’t think Kenshin is capable of going back to his life.I think that stays with him. I think that ishis life. I think he sees the child trip and skin their knee with the same vividness, clarity of detail, and gravity, as he sees the arc of his own sword in war. I think he sees the wife of the innkeeper’s eyes dart to the till in concern with the same perception he sees one of his retainers grimace after a sip of tea. I think he can’t not.

I think the hurt of lonelinessis weighted equally with the hurt of, for example, hunger to him – again going back to how he values things. I don’tthink he is wired to prioritize one over the other, to notice one thing more than another. As a leader, he is forcedto, and he is capable, because heunderstands why others would do that, but it doesn’t hurt his heart any less tosay, I can’t help these 4 people because I only have enough resources for these100 ahead of them.

And he can’t drop it and move in. He can’t file it away somewhere. So it just pilesand piles up, and he does everything he can to make sure no one else has tofeel that weight.

I also think he has convinced himself no one else willunderstand it – nor does he necessarily want them to, because it hurts right? But the fact he viewshimself as such means I think he very, very much doubts himself as a leader. Ithink, honestly, he sees his empathy as making him weak – in that era, wouldn’tyou be told as much?

THAT LEADS US TO GUILT

As a leader you have to make those decisions A LOT.

You have to leave people behind. You have to tell people towait. You don’t have enough time to stop and have dinner with an old man. Justas Kenshin is not capable of ignoring the 4 people he can’t help, nor is he capableof slighting any one of the 100 before them in their favor. To someone whovalues so many things as equal, forced prioritization has to be agony.

BASICALLY, I think his treasury is one giant metaphor forhis role in leadership – fundamentally unable to sacrifice even a torn littleleaf in favor of an elegant swathe of embroidered fabric, nor able to toss outthe fabric in favor of the leaf. But as a clan leader, he has to. And so heretreats to his treasury where he can lament the awfulness of choosing and notbe taken seriously (because being taken seriously would cause someone else tofeel pain, and he would not consciously share that burden).

I DO think he feels particularly haunted by what happened toTsugutsugu’s sister (and I think, perhaps, he valued Tsugutsugu’s sister more,and that was one of the few times in his life he has ever broken hisperception, and of course, it ended HORRIBLY so why would he try it again) butI think he is haunted by much, much more, all the time. Every interaction ofloneliness he has seen, every shadow in someone’s eyes, every dead soldier withtheir hand stiff around a loved one’s momento, every grave marker for a childwho didn’t have enough to eat.

Some leaders are capable of saying “I saved everyone Icould,” but I don’t think Kenshin is wiredto be able to make peace with that. And he knows that, and just keeps doinghis best, and his best will never, ever be enough to save everyone and he also knows that – so he is sortof a self-aware tragedy and hence we get his sweet fluttery humor, I legit thinkit is some straight up gallows humor. This is the other reason why I think hesees himself as a poor leader.

Deep down I think he knows he is not doing badly but surely someone else could dobetter, and they could do so without all this emotion clouding their judgmentetc and so forth.

AND FINALLY BEAUTY

Kenshin finds beauty everywhere. In part, I think, because he looks for it but also just because of his noticing of all the things, and as with needs, all beauty is equal.

One of my favorite, absolutely favorite, things about Kenshinis how het gets when he drinks sake, and when he goes to war.

(oh look, over there are the rails, and here is lee, far,far off of them you’ve been warned).

Violence can be horriblybeautiful. Now before you shudder and berate me for applying poeticplatitudes to something awful, lemme explain. I danced ballet for 18 years,some of them professionally. Ballet is beautiful.

You know what uses the exact same muscle groups and shapesas ballet?

Martial arts.

Like, literally, twisting out of an arm bar, arching yourback, sweeping your foot, throwing—mix it with the science of gravity and thereis a beautiful fluidity to it. Andthere is an amazing, raw humanity to indulging in the thoughtless passion ofit. Right up until someone’s arm bone meets someone’s knee and it snaps, and thenit’s as far from beautiful as it gets—that’s as insane of a juxtaposition as itgets, in seconds. Total synchronicity,and then total destruction.

Those are both realitiesfor Kenshin. I think he lives them both constantly, especially in battle. I do think he probably finds violencebeautiful even if he abhors that fact about himself. I believe part of thereason he is so good at it is because he watchesit with total fascination for the beauty inherent to it. I also think he wants to despise it but rather thanactually hating it and being stuck in hate, he’s actually stuck in a feeling-guilty-about-NOT-despising-it-as-much-as-he-shouldloop when he’s sober.

I think he can let go of the guilt when he’s drunk andindulge his selfishness. I think the ONE thing Kenshin does not view asvaluable is himself and his own wants (but yoolee, I hear you protesting, doesn’the just do whatever he wants and cause his poor retainers grief—YES but, it’snot coming from a place of self-value, it’s coming from his perception of thevalue of whatever it was he was doing) and I think he’s able to indulge a little bit when he’s drunk.  Or like, if nothing else, it dulls the guilt (at least until he’s sober, and he gets to add whatever he did while drunk to his list)

SO YEAH.

I definitely read him as someone who is very, very ground down by his own perception of the world, doing his best to…do his best, despite it. 

And I think the MC bridges his worldview with the worldview of his retainers, and that’s one of the reasons he loves her so much. She’s sort of in between the two extremes. And it scares him, because he does value her over other things and last time that happened it ended BADLY, but it’s also a relief, probably, to have one thing he CAN treasure more than other things, because it quiets the noise–instead of thinking about a thousand things, he can think of her, and just her.

She’s our God of War’s peace!

[bthenoise]

68 Questions with ‘68: Here’s Everything You Need To Know About ‘Two Parts Viper’ And Vocalist/Guitarist Josh Scogin

You know when you have that out-of-the-box idea, the one you are incredibly psyched to tell all your friends about because no one has thought of it before? You know what we’re talking about. That one idea you thought would be soooo cool but then when it came time to actually pull it off you were a little, um, overwhelmed. 

Well, that’s exactly what happened when it came to our “genius” idea of asking our favorite rock n’ roll duo ‘68 a certain number of questions -- 68 questions, to be exact. Yeah, so while the idea of asking vocalist/guitarist Josh Scogin 68 questions all about his new album Two Parts Viper, his most recent tour with Listener and The Homeless Gospel Choir and more felt like a good idea at the time, try telling that to somebody who is stuck at question 54 trying to Google “Fun Thought Provoking Questions.”

Anyway, thanks to the power of the internet (and Scogin’s incredible patience and willingness to play along), we were able to successfully come up with, ask and have all of our 68 questions answered. To learn everything there is about ‘68 and their outgoing frontman (who yes, also used to be in The Chariot and Norma Jean), be sure to look below. Afterwards, if you’ve yet to pick up the duo’s new brilliant LP, you can do so here.  

1) How did it feel coming up with actual song titles for Two Parts Viper?

It was great. Every album I treat like a completely separate entity in its own way and I enjoy the song titles, as well as lyrics, as well as the music. So, with the first album, [not having song titles] was part of the thing – how little information can I give ‘cause, you know, I thought it was funny being a debut record and everybody’s a little curious as to what it’s going to be like. Instead, giving less made me feel good so that’s the thing I did with that and once that was done, I didn’t want to. So here I am now, the second album we’re doing stuff that needed to be done for the second album. So song titles came pretty naturally.

2) Were you nervous doing as much singing as you did?

I didn’t really think about it much. Nervous is definitely not the right word ‘cause I just kind of do it. But yeah, both albums I just wrote what I wanted to hear at that time – what I felt needed to be there. So, at the end of the day, if a song felt like it needed to have singing, I just would sing it. Or if it felt like it needed a scream, I would scream it. Yeah, it wasn’t really a pre-planned or a pre-thought-out thing; it was just sort of whatever needed to happen on the song is what I did, whether it was singing or screaming.

3) What’s your favorite song on the record?

That’s a difficult one. I don’t think I have a favorite. There’s a few little like ideas and challenges and things that when they become successful, it feels really good. One example is since ’68 is kind of a guitar riff driven band, I had this idea of ‘Hmm I wonder if I could do an entire song with no guitars whatsoever, not even one.’ So, that was just and idea -- which, a lot of my ideas will get deleted or whatever if I didn’t feel like they met the mark or whatever. But the song – I’m not sure exactly what it’s called, but it’s later in the album and it’s more kind of synth-sounding and it doesn’t have any guitars. 

4) What was the influence behind “No Apologies”?

There’s a couple things. One thing, I was listening to a lot of Arlo Guthrie, which is Woody Guthrie’s son, and he has some pretty interesting songs that are old and just really kind of quirky in nature, I guess. But also, I was talking to a friend of mine and I was talking about how sometimes it feels like we’re cheating. We’re trying to portray passion and stuff, but we have loud guitars, we’re screaming, we have loud cymbals and drums and distortion pedals, all these things. So, in my mind I was like, “Hmm I wonder if it would be possible just talking” – no screaming, just I’m literally talking the words and see how passionate I could get and see how I could portray an idea with that. So, that was the original idea. It evolved from there. Obviously, there were these loud [bangs] between some of the sentences and stuff, and then originally I think it was maybe five times longer than it is on the album. But, at the end of the day, you gotta keep stepping back and looking at it – like the idea was fun but does it make for a good song or is it just a good idea. You have to kind of balance that and we think we landed on the healthiest spot we could have. But there’s definitely a version that existed, at least for a time, where it was like way longer – it was kind of gratuitous, but it wasn’t what the song needed, it was just kind of funny.

5) How about “What More Can I Say”?

I had this idea for a song, I think the chords already existed and everything. I just had this idea that it’s kind of a continuously building song – something that starts very, very minimal, very, very nothing, very long-winded and then it’s kind of a slow-burn and it builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and builds, and never really stops building until the climax. No chorus, no verse, that sort of thing. That was sort of an idea that I had at least for that song.

6) How many pedals/effects do you think you used this time around?

It’d be hard to put a real number on it, but with the first record, I was totally winging it. I didn’t really know a bunch [without] touring yet, as playing guitar with effects and stuff. So on the second record, I knew at least a little bit more about pedals and effects and I owned my own pedals and effects. So, I couldn’t put a number on how many, but I definitely used more on this record than the last record. Because if I used any on the first record, it was definitely just kind of like, “Oh yeah, we found this effect that we like.” But, with the second album, we kind of pre-planned a couple of them like I knew that I had this pedal that sounded really good and I wanted to use it or whatever.

7) You said the title of the album came to you in a dream, are your dreams always that intense?

Yeah, I’d say more often than not I have pretty vivid, clear, detailed dreams. They don’t always end up as interesting as that one. Sometimes I write them down, sometimes I don’t. But yeah, I tend to have very vivid [dreams]. I know what color someone is wearing, I know the things they said and what they meant by what they said; sometimes there’s a history like the dream itself might feel like it’s ten minutes but there’s a whole history of rules and laws and such. It’s weird, but yeah I don’t really know how everyone else does it, but for me, it can be very detailed.

8) What’s one thing about Listener (the band) nobody knows?

First thing that pops into my mind is that I wish I was in Listener, but some people might already know that. Something they may not know, because it’s not out yet, is that I produced their new record. So, other than a few Instagram followers, that might be news.

9) How about The Homeless Gospel Choir, what’s one thing nobody knows?

He used to tour manage different bands and one time me and Derek, from The Homeless Gospel Choir, got left at a Taco Bell for four hours straight and that’s how we got to know each other really well. We were in the middle of nowhere, and the band we were with dropped us off and was supposed to come back and pick us up. After about four hours later, they finally showed up. We didn’t have phone service to call them and go, “Yo, what’s going on?” So we just hung out in a Taco Bell in the middle of nowhere chitchatting for four hours. If you ever want to get to know somebody, that’s how to do it right there.

10) During a ’68 show, what is your preferred audience participation?

I just want them comfortable and I want them to feel free. If they want to mosh and run around, cool. I think we have some songs that necessitate that. If they want to just sit back and watch and study, that’s fine too. I find myself when I’m watching a band to be a little bit more of the like “I want to take it all in” so I’m never opposed to people standing there just watching. I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to do anything one way or another. I’m down with them just feeling good and comfortable.

11) If you could ban cell phones at shows, would you?

No. I know a lot of people are against them, blah blah blah, but for me it’s like if someone takes a picture and sends it up to the Instagram world or whatever, in real life, they’re helping to promote a band they like which happens to be a band I’m in. So it’s never a bad thing for us. Obviously, in a perfect world, they would enjoy the show themselves and take it all in and love on it, not just be focused on their phones. But one snapshot here or there, one video here or there, to me it really just helps us spread our wings. So I’m never opposed to it.

12) When do you feel the most creative?

When I’m on a long drive and can’t do anything about it.

13) One thing you can’t live without?

Burritos.

14) One necessity on tour?

A toothbrush.

15) The funniest rumor about the band?

That we play to tracks. If anyone’s ever heard us, it’s like how in the world could you possibly be playing to [tracks] – who in their right mind recorded that sloppy guitar to play to every single day? So, we’ve definitely heard that people said we play to tracks, which I thought was pretty interesting.

16) Has anyone gotten you star struck?

I guess so. I met Fiona Apple one time. I didn’t think of it as star struck. But I really, in the moment, I’m looking at her and wanting to strike up a conversation and it was about three in the morning in Vegas so I couldn’t think of anything to say. So, I guess that’s the closest thing, but it all hit me so randomly. I didn’t plan on running into her, so at the end of the day, I just had no idea what to say.

17) What’s your favorite app right now?  

I don’t really have a favorite. I don’t really care much about that stuff. I use Google Maps all the time because I have to travel with it. So I guess if that would be a favorite.

18) What would it take for you and drummer Michael McClellan to not wear your suit and tie to start a show?

Anything really. We’re doing it right now for this record cycle ‘cause in the dream the guy that says the “Two Parts Viper” thing was in a suit and we felt like it was pretty applicable. But yeah, I think on this tour in fact, Michael thought he lost his suit for a while. So for like one show, we just didn’t do it. Yeah, it’s not really a big deal.

19) In your opinion, what’s your worst habit?

That can get way deeper than I need to, but I’ll say biting my nails ‘cause I do that nonstop.

20) Favorite album of 2017 so far?

Favorite album of 2017 so far…I guess excluding ’68 [laughs]. Let’s go with, it’s hard to say favorite, but let’s just say, oh my gosh, let’s just say Listener. Even though it’s not out yet, but it will be out sometime soon.

21) Best performance you’ve seen this year?

Well, I haven’t seen a lot of shows cause I’ve been on tour a lot, but we played the other day and the Pixies played right upstairs and we got to watch them and it was great. So that was one of the only ones I’ve seen this year, but it was still one of the best ones I’ve seen this year.

22) If you could live in a TV show, which one would it be?

Last Man on Earth.

23) What would you do if you were president of your own country?

I’d probably relax a little bit and go golfing [laughs].

24) If you could time travel, would you go to the past or future?

I’d probably go back a week ago to this place I had a really good hamburger. As I finished it, I thought “Man, I’m really full right now but I wish I could go back and eat that hamburger again ‘cause it was delish.”

25) What’s a The Chariot song you miss performing live?

Most of them were great and wonderful to play live, so I don’t know if there could be one. But there was one song called “The City” that a lot of people, the crowd, really participated with so maybe that one.

26) Would you rather have a head the size of a tennis ball or the size of a watermelon?

Probably a tennis ball because I would just always walk around looking like that guy on Beetlejuice whose head got shrunk, ‘cause I think that’s pretty funny.

27) If you could only have one food on tour what would it be?

Sushi.

28) Proudest musical moment?

Right now.

29) If you could never play one song live ever again, what would it be?

I mean, if it’s my least favorite song, I probably don’t already play it. So I don’t really know how to answer that, but I will probably never play “My Sharona.” I don’t mind the song, it’s unfortunate because it sounds like I hate the song. I don’t hate it, but it popped into my head as a song I will probably never play live.

30) If you could only play one song live for the rest of your life, what would it be?

I would probably play any song off of Weezer’s Pinkerton.

31) Would you rather use sandpaper for toilet paper or vinegar for eye drops?

Vinegar for eye drops ‘cause I never need eye drops but I do need toilet paper all the time so...

32) Would you rather live in the Harry Potter universe or the Pokémon universe?

I don’t know much about either of those universes, but I think with the Harry Potter one I could fly if I’m not mistaken. So yeah, maybe that one. And Pokémon, I don’t know what that universe looks like either, but I know that people are going around catching those dudes all the time, or at least they were a year ago, so that doesn’t sound fun – sounds like work to me.  

33) Would you rather have your Netflix viewing history made public or your Spotify listening history?

Don’t really care, probably Spotify.

34) What do you think is the greatest invention in your lifetime?

I’ll go ahead and say the original iPod. Anything that could play a thousand songs was awesome, especially for a touring musician. It morphed into Spotify and all now, but still, the iPod back in the day was amazing.

35) Okay, halfway done. You doing alright? (And yes, this counts as a question).

Cool, doing good [laughs].

36) If you woke up as Donald Trump, what is the first thing you would do?

Resign. I guess I would try and fix things, but who even knows that looks like.

37) Is it true the first time you toured with Every Time I Die, you spent an entire song under the drum riser at Furnace Fest because there were skittles?

Not because there were skittles but I have been to known to hang out under a drum riser if that’s what I felt like doing. I actually don’t like skittles. I’m more of a chocolate-type person than a fruity, candy snack person.

38) What’s one thing about Every Time I Die nobody knows?

Some might know it, but when we first toured with them, Jordan [Buckley, guitarist] had pink hair.

39) Best mosh pit you’ve ever seen?

I don’t know. The best circle pit I’ve seen, as long as that’s not a future question, was a band called Flatfoot 56. We were in a hockey rink and [the pit] was literally the entire size of this hockey rink. So much so, that it wasn’t even a circle pit anymore. It was like people running proper full-on laps. It was hilarious and like one of the craziest visuals I’ve ever seen.

40) Who’s the heaviest band you’ve ever seen?

That’s a tricky one. I don’t know, maybe I’ll go with Converge. They’re phenomenal. Well, I mean, I could even say Every Time I Die or whatever, it doesn’t matter.

41) Most brutal pit injury you’ve witnessed?

A kid got stabbed in the neck with a pen, like a writing pen, at a Chariot show. It was really unfortunate, but it was Salt Lake City and it was kind of a time period when that sort of stuff was happening. Yeah, it wasn’t awesome, but that is one of the most brutal things I’ve ever seen.

42) If you could give your bandmate Michael one tattoo, what would it be and where?

Now the question really is do I want to ruin his life forever or give him something that I know he likes? It’d probably be a tiny one on his thigh so that only he would really see it a lot and it would probably just be “hahaha this was given to you by your friend, Josh.”

43) If you could trade places with anyone in the world for one day, who would it be?

Maybe any lead singer of a real band that’s just kind of like chilling. Like real lead singers don’t do a bunch, so maybe just like any of those folks. I mean, I like working. I’m not complaining, but if I have one day of like relaxing in a bus and letting a bunch of other people do stuff instead of me, then I’d take it for one day. That’d be fun.

44) If you had to be stuck in one horror movie for the rest of your life, what would it be?

I don’t know a lot about horror movies. I don’t watch a bunch of them. Is there a horror movie where people just eat a bunch of food or something? Yeah, I’ll go with whatever horror movie it is where they just eat a bunch of food and relax all day.

45) If aliens exist, do they come in peace or are they going to attack?

They’re already here. So, therefore, they’ve come in peace. Unless they have some sort of weird thousand-year plan, I think they’ve already proven to be here in peace -- so I think we’re okay.

46) Would you rather be haunted by ghosts or abducted by aliens?

Definitely aliens. Wait, can I remember it? As long as I remember it. I’m not into the probing stuff, but if I get to go to like outer space that would totally be worth it.

47) The most addicting game you’ve ever played?

I don’t like playing games, so that’s kind of difficult for me. I don’t know, I can’t think of any games. Well, I’ve got to answer otherwise we don’t meet 68 questions. So, let’s go with 52 card pickup. That’s a game my older brother used to play with me and I didn’t even know it was him being mean. I just thought we were having fun playing a game together and I never realized that until I got older.

48) Does Bigfoot exist and, if so, is he Andy Williams?

I don’t think [Bigfoot] exists, so I’m going to have to say Andy Williams is just Andy Williams.

49) How would you describe the perfect sandwich?

Perfect sandwich would be some toast and avocado and cream cheese. Yeah, that would be fine.

50) Greatest guitar player of all time?

I’ll say, Jimmy Page – he wrote every sick riff ever.

51) Favorite guitar riff of all time?

“Black Dog” by Led Zeppelin.

52) If you had to choose between bringing back Elvis, Johnny Cash, and Lemmy, who would you pick?

Probably Elvis, but only based on the fact that Johnny Cash and Lemmy were alive for at least awhile while I was alive. I don’t remember Elvis ever being – I don’t know when he passed away exactly, but I’ll go with Elvis.

53) What’s your favorite conspiracy theory?

Well, calling it a theory may insinuate that it’s not real, but the whole JFK debacle -- his whole assassination, how it happened, why it happened, who did it. That whole thing is very interesting to me and I watch any documentary that pops up about it just because it’s pretty crazy.  

54) In your opinion, are Tupac and Biggie really dead?

Tupac’s not, Biggie is.

55) If you had to be the same age for the rest of your life, what would it be?

That’s hard because I don’t know what my future holds for me, but I mean right now, I feel pretty good. So I’m probably the smartest I’ve ever been, so I’ll go with right now. The age of whatever I am right now.

56) Weirdest place you’ve gone to the bathroom?

Does driving down the interstate out of the shotgun seat of a van count? Then that’s my answer.  

57) If you could get rid of one aspect of the internet what would you pick?

Just one? I don’t know what to call this, but the fact that everyone feels like they have to be a critic, you know? Instead of just being like – if something was kinda not really your thing, you kind of just carried on and went to the other thing that is your thing. But, in this day and age, people feel like they have to comment and say exactly why and exactly what the thing is they don’t like and all that stuff. It just gets kind of funny ‘cause it’s like you could be spending your time doing the things you do like, so whatever that’s called.

58) If you had to lose one of your five senses what would it be?

Sense of smell.

59) What’s the amount of times you think someone told you can’t make a career in music?

[Laughs] So I’m guessing in a number? I mean most days. Nearly every day, but I don’t know – thousands.

60) Best advice you’ve ever received?

Enjoy the journey.

61) If you could add a bass player for one ’68 song, who would it be?

Probably Dan Smith, because I know he’d be really into it and I keep having to shove him aside and say, “No, stay. No.” But he keeps asking me to do it.

62) Your favorite lyricist of all time?

Of all time, that’s a tricky one. I don’t know – Paul McCartney, John Lennon. I really enjoy Keith Buckley. I don’t know about of all time, but those are the ones that popped into my head – Aaron Weiss, MewithoutYou. I mean, those are some folks that say things that inspire me and make me think. I’m sure there’s plenty more.

63) Who’s the smartest musician you know?

The smartest, that’s a tricky one too. I don’t know, smartest musician? There’s not a lot of smart ones out there [laughs]. I’m just kidding. That’s a tricky one, I don’t know. That’s a hard one. I get one pass. Remember to say that in the beginning. You just write that, I get one pass. This is the one I pass [laughs].

64) Best place to eat in Atlanta?

There’s a lot of good places. Fat Matt’s is really good; it’s a rib place, like barbecue place. Yeah, I’ll go with that for now.

65) Thoughts on fellow rock duo Royal Blood?

Yeah, I love their music and those guys. Their new album has yet to come out, and every day I keep checking to see if I can hear it. But yeah, I like that band a lot. I’ve never hung out with them that I’m aware of, but we run in very similar circles -- a few of my friends are theirs. So they seem like really swell guys. But, as far as musically, I think it’s really, really good stuff.

66) Favorite song you’ve ever written?

I don’t know. I mean, they all have their moment in the sun in my brain, so it’s kind of difficult to call one out and neglect the others.

67) If you were a professional wrestler, what you be your intro music?

It would be “Let Me Tell you About my Best Friend” by whoever sings that song.

68) What’s the one thing you want people to get out of your music the most?

Just maybe a slight shade of hope and peace and maybe some freedom sprinkled somewhere in there. If they’re at a live show, then it’s nice to think about them maybe forgetting their problems for a while and just having a good time, and you know, just being overcome by noisy rock. But, if they’re listening to it on a CD player or something like that, maybe a couple lyrics reach out and get ‘em and maybe they’ll feel good for a minute, you know? That’d be great.

WATCH MORE FROM ‘68:

[smthcleverhere]

If you or someone you know is struggling with depression, talk to someone. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 or  visit their website suicidepreventionlifeline.org

I recently finished watching 13 Reasons Why. I didn’t read the book, mostly because I didn’t know it existed, so my thoughts and opinions are based on the show only. It did, however, move me and brought back some vivid memories of my high school experience. So for those that are in it now. Are living this now. Gather round, because I’m going to tell you the tale of when I was there, (I was looking at a kitchen knife instead of a razor), and how I made it here, to the current ripe age of 31.

First off, I never, ever thought I’d make it this far. I never thought of getting married, or having a family, or what my future career would be, because I pretty much thought I’d never make it to my 20s. But I did. And it was worth it. YOU ARE WORTH IT. YOU MATTER. YOU’RE NOT A BURDEN. That being said, on to the story.

This is lengthy, so I’ll throw it under the cut.

My childhood was, let’s say, colorful. Parents divorced when I was 3, my mother abandoned me at my fathers when I was 7. She had type 1 bipolar disorder and wasn’t too fond of her meds. Alcohol and drugs? Yes. Her meds made her feel numb, so she didn’t like them so much. My dad struggled to raise me on his own, and we bounced around a lot, living mostly in family members’ spare rooms. I won’t go into great detail, but parties, alcohol and alcoholics, the police at the door, and strangers passed out on our floor were normal staples of my life. I’ll explain why this is important later on.

My depression started to show when I was in middle school, around 11, I want to say. I remember such destructive thoughts as “I may not have been the reason my mother left, but I wasn’t enough to make her stay,” I was prone to bladder infections and as earlier mentioned, not particularly well off financially, so I had the “I’m a burden on my dad. If I wasn’t around, he wouldn’t have to struggle to find the money to take care of me,” and for my friends, “My friends would be happier if I wasn’t around, but are too nice to tell me, because they’re good people.” 

Puberty meeting depression doesn’t work well together, so my hygiene sometimes left something to be desired, and I was ridiculed accordingly. I remember one boy that would come up to me, smell my hair, then commence to tell me how awful I smelled. Then there was a girl that would ask how I got that greasy look to my hair. And no one really wanted to sit in my seat when we had to switch classes, not that I blame them now, but it hurt then.

My goal at that point was to make myself as small as possible, so I was quiet, tended to sit alone, and overall, was a weird kid. I was, however, a great student. Straight A’s, always well behaved in class, participated in class discussions, and was overall, a model student. I did this because I didn’t want to be a burden on my dad, didn’t want him to have to worry about me, and on the off chance my mother came back, I wanted to make sure she could be proud of me. This did, however, make teachers love me, so if I seemed a little off, it couldn’t have been too severe. 

Poetry, music and reading were my saving graces. I could write my feelings in abstract words that allowed them voice, but if anyone read them, they either didn’t really understand what I was feeling, or I could quiet their worry with excuses of hyperbole. I was a teenager, after all. Music could be the words for feelings that I didn’t have the words for, and I played it so loud that it could drown out anyone hearing my tears. (I took really long showers for the same reason. Alone time where I could cry and no one would see/hear.) And reading let me escape into other people’s lives. I wasn’t me for those hours. I was them. Feeling their feelings. Living their lives. And by the end, they had answers to their problems. I was never without a book.

By the time I hit high school, I had perfected the “I’m fine, just tired” line, whenever anyone showed any concern about my well being. I was an excellent student taking hard classes, a perfectionist so my projects were always rather involved, and then I joined clubs and school publications, so the line was an easily believed one. (How I found the energy to do such a thing? I’ll explain in a little bit.) The never ending mantra in my head was “I am a burden to all those that know me,” so all of my actions were built around trying to protect all the people I loved from me. The worse I felt, the quieter I became. I would fake naps so that I could quietly berate myself for not having the strength to free everyone I loved from the problem of my existence. If I was strong enough, I would end it.

And that’s the problem when looking for signs of suicide. Too often, the person feels like they’re freeing their loved ones, so there isn’t obvious cries for help. Because in their eyes, they don’t deserve help-- you need to be saved from them.

Then my sophomore year rolled around, and the fight with my depression took a truly difficult turn. At this point I was living with a friend of mine and her family, for several reasons, one being my dad had to take a job up north and didn’t have a lot of money. Her family use to take in foster kids before my friend and her sister, so they were happy enough and kind to take me in. They also supported me financially a great deal, which was generous of them, but another noose of guilt for me. 

I did my best to be a model child, but by this point, I was terribly emotionally unstable. I felt I deserved nothing, and everything I was given was something taken from those that did deserve it. I would eat as little as possible-- hold out until I hurt too much not to at least eat something. Anyone ask about it? I didn’t feel too well. Stomach was off. I would see how long I could go without saying a word, trying to see if anyone noticed or cared. (Later I learned, they did, of course, but I wasn’t their kid-- so they didn’t really know what to do with me.) I reached the point of becoming agoraphobic. Again, feigning illness for why I couldn’t leave my bed. That was where I was when 9/11 happened, btw. In my bed, too terrified to leave the safety of the four walls around me.

I missed weeks of school, but I was a smart kid, so I would get the assignments and do the work and have others turning them in. I was getting A’s and B’s in college prep and honors courses, and I was barely there. If there was one real warning growing up, that was it. I had horrible attendance, but I was also frequently genuinely sick. I have a really crappy immune system, so that one was still kind of hard to follow.

Then that night came. It was somewhere around 1 am, I think, and everyone in the house was asleep. I was sitting on the bathroom floor, lights off, door closed-- literal moonlight was all I had to see by. I remember how cold the tile floor was. I remember crying so hard I couldn’t see more than blurred shapes, but bit down on my clothes to keep from anyone hearing. I remember feeling so tired. So empty. So alone. I realized I couldn’t keep going like this, that the people I loved didn’t deserve this emotional wreck of a human being they were stuck with, because what else could they do? They were good people.

There wasn’t any pills I could take that I knew would get the job done, and if I lived after trying to kill myself, well then, I REALLY would be a burden. It was a good thing there wasn’t because-- well, we might not be having this conversation right now. So a kitchen knife would have to do.

I remember standing up, arms wrapped around me, crying-- and there was the smallest voice inside me that said, “I don’t want to die.” It was shocking, really. My thoughts were always about other people. Everything from, “I don’t want to be a burden” to “Other people can seem to handle life. They deal with it, why are you so weak?” that the idea of wanting anything at all, let alone to live, was enough to give me pause.

My dad was staying with his girlfriend, who lived in town, that night. Before you say something, I could live there too-- but due to aforementioned parties, drinking, and passed out strangers, I chose not to. My living situation was a mess that I won’t get into, the point is-- my dad was in town. I sneaked back into the room I shared with my friend, quietly got dressed, silently left through the front door, and walked all the way across town to where my dad was staying, which was about a two hour plus walk, I think. I don’t really remember, and time is kind of meaningless at that point. When I arrived, everyone was asleep (his girlfriend had two daughters of her own), so I sneaked into the house via hopping the fence and using the side door into the garage. My dad had made an office/ den out of a part of the garage, so I curled up and fell asleep on his couch.

When he discovered me in the morning, he was angry and scared. One, I was supposed to be in school, two, I had simply appeared in the middle of the night, and three, when he woke me up, I started crying. He asked what was wrong. I said I didn’t know, and cried harder, because I honestly had no idea what the hell was wrong with me. I had no way to explain why I felt the way I did. And I certainly wasn’t going to tell him I wanted to kill myself--still trying to protect him from me. Now, I must remind you, dear readers, that up to this point--for the most part-- I was an ideal child. Well behaved. Good in school. Smart. Kind. Did whatever I was told to do. I did not act up. I certainly didn’t skip school and start crying for no reason. My dad was seriously ill equipped to handle what was going on, and he yelled at me, which if you’re dealing with a crying depressed person, I wouldn’t recommend this, but his little girl was falling apart right in front of his eyes, and he didn’t know what to do. I wish I could tell you what happened after, but honestly, I don’t remember. I do remember that was the point that I knew I needed help.

I don’t know how soon after that night, but I decided to see the school psychologist. My high school had a special ed program, so we had a  psychologist that would come, I think once a week, to see how everyone was doing. I gathered all of my courage and with everything in me screaming to stay home, I went to school and parked myself in front of his office door. When he found me, he let me into his office and I told him everything (or almost everything. I don’t remember telling him if I was suicidal)-- but I did tell him about my life and how awful I felt and how hard it was to even come to school that day. He told me that this wasn’t his specialty, but he did know people that could help me, and gave me the name and number of a center that specialized in mental health. I think he even called for me to get me in as soon as possible. They had a government funded program to subsidize the cost (since I didn’t have health insurance), and each visit to my new counselor was $3. And that saved my life. 

It started me on the path to seek out professional help when I needed it, and realize how necessary it was for me to get the thoughts and feelings out of me. To have someone really listen. They didn’t need to fix me, just listen to me. I needed to know that what I thought and felt wasn’t a burden to someone--and guess what, professionals are literally paid to listen to you-- so I wasn’t a burden to them. I showed my counselor my poetry. I had typed it all up and made her a copy, and she read every one. Mostly, she was extremely impressed that I was as high functioning as I was. With the life I had lived (and was living), I should have been a mess of angst with a heavy dose of misbehavior and who knows what else. That made me feel pretty good, but it was also why they missed the real reason for everything. I went to therapy for awhile, until I couldn’t get a ride any longer for my sessions-- but it was enough to give me the tools to keep functioning.

I didn’t find out what was really wrong with me until I was 23 and was going to a college that had access to mental health professionals. I still had issues with my moods and the poisonous thoughts, and my boyfriend begged me to see someone about it because he was really worried about me. Turned out, I have type 2 bipolar disorder. Which means, my highs don’t come out as wild-and-crazy-someone-should-do-something, but instead more like a really happy, friendly, maybe a bit over caffeinated individual that throws herself into projects and takes on immense responsibilities. The lows, however, are the same. That’s where the energy came from in high school to take on all of those hard courses and extra circulars, and guilt and fear of disappointment is what had me keeping up with them during my lows.

Why share this story? Other than to tell you, you’re not alone and not only can you survive this, but you should. It’s to share that depression is hard to see when the person wants to hide it. To share where the mind goes when a person thinks of suicide. And to ask to take the time to be kind to one another. Little things matter to those that feel like they don’t matter.

If you or someone you know is struggling with depression, talk to someone. You’re not over reacting. Your feelings are real and valid. You deserve to be heard. Your life matters. You matter. And right now you might be drowning under today, but I promise, there will be a tomorrow, many tomorrows, that will make today worth surviving. I’m not a professional, but I promise to listen if you need to send a message to someone. I highly recommend calling or chatting (they have an online chat now) with someone through the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. The phone number is: 1-800-273-8255 and the web address is suicidepreventionlifeline.org. They have the training and resources to help you. 

Remember that boyfriend that pushed me to get help? We’ve been together for over 10 years, and he is the love of my life. I have amazing friends that I love and who love me. I live a life that brings me joy-- and I wouldn’t have seen any of it, if I hadn’t listen to that tiny voice. My disorder is a constant struggle. I have to take medication and have regular visits with my doctor and my therapist, but it doesn’t feel like much of a hardship. I feel lucky. I feel grateful. Sometimes I feel befuddled, which happens when you really didn’t think you’d make it this far, but every tomorrow is worth it.

[thebibliophagist]

Way back in 2015, I did Perpetual Page Turner’s end-of-year book survey.  I could have sworn I also did it last year, but I guess I didn’t!  Here are this year’s answers.  I’d love to know your thoughts as well.  Feel free to shoot me a message!

Number of books you read: 140! Number of re-reads: 1 Genre you read the most from: romance

1. Best book you read in 2017?  Hands down, The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas. 2. Book you were excited about and thought you were going to love more but didn’t? The Fortunate Ones by R.S. Grey. 3. Most surprising (in a good or bad way) book you read? Maybe Kissing Max Holden by Katy Upperman?  I thought it was going to be a cutesy book about a romance between neighbors but it really just ends up being about a guy cheating on his girlfriend. 4. Book you pushed the most people to read? I don’t think I’ve really pushed a lot of books this year, but I do incessantly recommend anything by Krista & Becca Ritchie. 5. Best series you started in 2017? I mostly read standalones this year, but I could definitely go with Krista & Becca Ritchie’s new Like Us series. 6. Best sequel of 2017? Again with the Ritchies... Infini for sure. 7. Best series ender of 2017? Our Dark Duet by Victoria Schwab. 8. Favorite new author you discovered in 2017? R.S. Grey. 9. Best book from a genre you don’t typically read? Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur. 10. Most action-packed/thrilling/unputdownable book of the year? I don’t read a lot of books that fit that description, but I did have a hard time putting S.D. Grimm’s Summoner down, so we’ll go with that. 11. Book you read in 2017 that you’re most likely to re-read next year? I don’t do re-reads unless required. 12. Favorite cover of a book you read in 2017? A Million Junes by Emily Henry. 13. Most memorable character of 2017? Farrow Keene from the Like Us series. 14. Most beautifully written book read in 2017? I know it’s a really polarizing book, but I loved E. Lockhart’s writing in We Were Liars. 15. Most thought-provoking or life-changing book of 2017? Hmm, what a question. Maybe We Should All Be Feminists? 16. Book you can’t believe you waited until 2017 to finally read? I read a lot of 2017 and 2018 releases and not a lot of older books, but I could probably go with either Brown Girl Dreaming or Everything, Everything. 17. Favorite passage or quote from a book you read in 2017? This is not a deep or thought-provoking passage, but I loved this line in My Lady Jane since it was such a funny Monty Python reference: “Who are you calling beef-witted?” she laughed at him. “Your mother was a hamster, and your father stank of elderberries!” 18. Shortest and longest books of 2017? According to Goodreads, my shorted was To Cast a Cliche by Aubrey Wynne (15 pages) and my longest was Second Chance Seal by BB Hamel (712 pages).  There’s no way that book was 712 pages, though, so I’m going with A Conjuring of Light by V.E. Schwab (624 pages). 19. Book that shocked you the most (plot twist, character death, etc)? All the Bright Places.  See below. 20. OTP OF THE YEAR -- I will go down with this ship: Luka Kotova and Baylee Wright in Infini. Give me all of the pining from afar. 21. Favorite non-romantic relationship of the year? The Hale/Meadows/Cobalt siblings in the Like Us series! 22. Favorite book you read in 2017 from an author you’ve read previously? I’m so sorry but I have to do Infini again. 23. Best book you read in 2017 that you chose solely based on a recommendation from someone else or peer pressure? The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice & Virtue by Mackenzi Lee. 24. Newest fictional crush from a book you read in 2017? Davis Price from Arm Candy or Julian Lefray from The Allure of Julian Lefray. 25. Best 2017 debut? The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas. It’s the best book I’ve read in years. 26. Best worldbuilding or most vivid setting you read this year? Maybe 27 Hours by Tristina Wright?  I didn’t read a lot of books this year that really needed a lot of worldbuilding. 27. Book that put a smile on your face or was the most fun to read? My Lady Jane by Cynthia Hand, Brodi Ashton, and Jodi Meadows. 28. Book that made you cry or nearly cry in 2017? So I actually very rarely cry while reading, but a ton of books just decimated my heart this year.  The Fortunate Ones by R.S. Grey, A Conjuring of Light by V.E. Schwab, and All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven immediately come to mind. 29. Hidden gem of the year? I’ll call this hidden because I haven’t brought it up a lot -- Operation Prom Date by Cindi Madsen. 30. Book that crushed your soul? Ugh, definitely A Conjuring of Light by V.E. Schwab. I’m still not over Holland and it’s been months! 31. Most unique book you read in 2017? Probably The Passion of Dolssa by Julie Berry. It’s not often that you find a YA novel set in Inquisition-era France that focuses on a young woman who hears the voice of God. 32. Book that made you the most mad? All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven.  I think the author had good intentions, but the book was really irresponsible. I wrote a really detailed review if you’re interested.

1. New favorite book blog you discovered in 2017? I’ve been following the same handful of book blogs for years, but I did recently start following girlxoxo, which has been a lot of fun. 2. Favorite review you wrote in 2017? I’ve written 140 book reviews this year (possibly more, because I was a little delayed at reviewing book from the end of 2016) so this is a really hard question! I think my spoiler-filled, semi-ranty, essay-length review of A Conjuring of Light is probably my favorite. I got so emotional about that book. The thought of Holland still breaks my heart.  Here we go again... 3. Best discussion or non-review post that you had on your blog? According to my blog stats, it’s my top ten anticipated releases for the second half of 2017. 4. Best event that you participated in (author signings, festivals, virtual events, memes)? I don’t do a lot of events because of social anxiety, but I’m trying! I joined Krista & Becca Ritchie’s Fizzle Force and try to participate in the events there.  I would love to go to a signing but I feel like I’d probably just clam up and forget how to speak. 5. Best moment of bookish/blogging life in 2017? Alright, there are two. First was getting an ARC of Renegades by Marissa Meyer, which was totally unexpected and totally awesome. Second was that publishes and authors started reaching out and offering me ARCs this year, which was also totally unexpected and totally awesome. 6. Most challenging thing about blogging or your reading life this year? Definitely moving! It took up so much time and so much effort! I don’t think I read anything for at least a month. 7. Most popular post this year on your blog? My review of Renegades by Marissa Meyer! 8. Post you wish got a little more love? Probably Top Ten Tuesdays in general. I love doing these lists and I usually end up putting a lot of time and effort into them.  Sometimes they’re hits and sometimes they get literally zero attention. 9. Best bookish discovery (sites, stores, etc)? Probably booko, which compares prices between major retailers, and bookoutlet, which has huge discounts on popular titles. 10. Did you complete any reading challenges or goals that you had set for yourself at the beginning of this year? Yes! I completed my goal of reading 125 books, the 2017 Debut Author Challenge, and both Modern Mrs. Darcy reading challenges. I keep track of my challenges here if you’re interested.

1. One book you didn’t get to in 2017 that will be your #1 priority in 2018? Probably Saint Anything by Sarah Dessen, which I got in 2016 and planned to read in 2017. Hopefully, 2018 will be its year. 2. Book you’re most anticipating for 2018 (non-debut)? That’s a really hard question because I’m anticipating so many books, but probably My Lady Jane by Cynthia Hand, Brodi Ashton, and Jodi Meadows. 3. 2018 debut you’re most anticipating? So far, You’ll Miss Me When I’m Gone by Rachel Lynn Solomon. 4. Series ending/sequel you’re most anticipating in 2018? The Lady’s Guide to Piracy & Petticoats by Mackenzi Lee. 5. One thing you hope to accomplish or do in your reading/blogging life in 2018? There are a few things I can say here.  First, I obviously want to meet my reading goals and finish my reading challenges.  Second, I want to maintain relationships with the publishers and publicists who have been so great about providing me with ARCs!  (I’d also like to hopefully build relationships with more publishers.)  Finally, I hope to be a bit more active in the bookish world outside of my blog.  I’ve had this blog for almost five years now and I think it’s well beyond the time that I should be getting out there and spreading the word. 6. A 2018 release you’ve already read and recommend to everyone? Unfortunately, I haven’t loved any of the 2018 releases I’ve read so far.  At least not enough to recommend to everyone. But there are a ton of them I’m looking forward to!