retired 🩶

an apology I don’t expect you to read

I'm going to put the important bit at the top, without context, so if that's all you see before you tl;dr, at least you'll see it:

Without meaning to, without realizing it, I haven't given the next generation after mine the respect it deserves. I've behaved exactly the way the Boomers were with me: like my experience is the only one that's valid. And that's not helpful, if I hope to share whatever my experience is.

So if you're one of the younger-than-me people who's felt disrespected by me, and to those who I have treated like their experiences aren't valid: I am sincerely sorry.

I'm sorry. I talk to my generation in a way I shouldn't talk to yours. Some of you have been trying to tell me that, and I haven't been able to hear you. That's entirely on me, and I'm very sorry for treating you EXACTLY the way shitty middle-aged dickheads treated me when I was around your age.

Thanks for listening.

 Okay, if you want all the long-winded context, read on.

All day, I've been having this slow, dawning, realization about how to talk to and listen to teenagers and twentysomethings who are politically and intellectually aware and engaged.

I have a reflexive tendency to imagine the anonymous person who posted that thing at me as someone from my own peer group, because we all unconsciously identify people that way online, unless we explicitly have a reason not to.

So, without realizing it, I have been responding to young, politically-active people as if they are my peer group: forty-somethings who have the same amount of life experience I have. As a result, I've just been a shitty middle-aged guy to well-meaning kids, and when I was a kid, I *hated* that.

In fact, I vowed as a twenty-something that when I was older, I would take kids seriously, which I think means at least hearing them out, rather than just shutting them down because they're young.

I've been trying, and I thought I was nailing it. But I realized today that, for years, when I've had rare occasion to interact with someone who is, to me, a kid, I've been talking to, say, 18 year-old me, or 23 year-old, me, and so on. What I _should_ have been doing is listening to 18 year-old _whoever that person is_, and allowing them to be heard on their own terms, as their own people, and not as a reflection of who I was, or who my peers were, at their stage of life.

So I'm going to talk to a person my age very differently than I'm going to talk to a younger person, since the person my age has the same life experience and same life-shaping events I had. So I just don't have any patience for someone who is in their 40s and is STILL going on about The Greens.

It's like, listen, you fortysomething, when I was a kid, I thought the Greens were great, and I supported them, too. I don't know how they are in the rest of the world, but at the presidential level in America all they do is help Republicans by taking votes away from Democrats. And Republicans (and their ideological allies in Russia, China, Saudi Arabia) start grooming kids when they are teens to believe that "the lesser of two evils is still evil". I know this because they did it to me and my generation (OUR GENERATION), too. I (WE)know this from personal experience in 2000, so even though a lot of Green positions appeal to me, I won't support them at the presidential level. But I come to thsi conclusion this based on 30 years of political experience. And I know it is condescending to say "when you're older you'll understand", so please know I hear it when I say that you're going to grow out of this and realize the Democrats, as imperfect as they are, aren't your enemy. I know this because I and millions of others in my generation went through this same transformation. It's why the Democratic Party has moved so far to the Left, so that candidates like AOC and The Squad are on their way to changing things in the House.

I know that is probably TOTALLY condescending, and likely turned off everyone I was hoping to apologize to. Good thing I already did that.

Look. I don't know how to say it any other way. Greens hurt America at the presidential level. Always have, always will.

I've gotten sidetracked. Let me try to come back around:

In some of these asks, I don't regret the argument I've made, but deeply regret the _way_ I made it. I've ended up being a condescending, impatient, tone-deaf ass to a lot of kids, when they absolutely did not deserve to be treated that way.

I hated it when adults treated me that way. I hated being dismissed and unheard when I felt strongly about something. I felt like my ideas deserved to at least be heard. Even though I now know those adults were (fairly) reacting to my lack of life experience, they could have expressed that better, in a more compassionate and empathetic way.

The reality is, we aren't going to be listened to very much when we're young, because we simply do not have the life experience to make huge decisions. But that doesn't mean our feelings are, by default, invalid.

I vowed to not treat kids the way adults treated me, so when I interact with these young men and women, I reflexively talk to whoever I was at their age, saying the things and hearing the things that he would have said and heard.

That's like ... oh, I don't know, a 50 year-old in 1988 trying to convince 14 year-old me of anything. Or a 48 year-old in 1993, lecturing 23 year-old me, who is REALLY smart and has A LOT figured out, like he's an idiot who has no agency or valid opinions.

The thing I needed to do, so I could fulfill the vow I made when I was young, is to give young people the _respect_ they deserve. I need to recognize that, though their experience is limited compared to mine, that doesn't mean their experience is invalid or wrong. The thing I need to do is to actually listen to what someone is saying, and recognize that, because of our relative ages, we may be speaking the same language but not communicating. And because I have more experience, it's incumbent upon _me_, not them, to bridge that gap.

Without meaning to, without realizing it, I haven't given the next generation after mine the respect it deserves. I've behaved exactly the way the Boomers were with me: like my experience is the only one that's valid. And that's not helpful, if I hope to share whatever my experience is.

So if you're one of the younger-than-me people who's felt disrespected by me, and to those who I have treated like their experiences aren't valid: I am sincerely sorry.

I have been nothing more than a cranky old man to any kid who shows up on my internet lawn, and I just want you to know that (as of about two hours ago) I'm aware of it, I'm sorry for being rude.

Even if I don't agree with you on something, even if I don't think that something REALLY important to you isn't as important as that thing is going to seem in 20 years, WHAT I THINK DOES NOT MATTER, because I'm halfway through my ride on this planet, and you're all just beginning. I fully believe that if the generation ahead of us had listened to us, we would all be better off. I know that a lot of you feel that way about me and other Xers, and you're totally right to feel that way. We're borrowing your planet, now, and we're doing our best (at least I am) to give you a better culture than the Boomers gave us. And I STILL know that it isn't enough, because it wasn't enough for me when I was in my twenties. (I will gently tell you that when we're in our twenties, a lot of what we want will eventually be tempered with age, and you'll be like, "I can't believe I fought so hard for that thing," but that doesn't mean the fight, and the experience of the fight, isn't worth it.)

I had a whole thing here to wrap this up that ultimately ended up being about me and my feelings. I deleted it because what I really just want to say is: I'm sorry. I talk to my generation in a way I shouldn't talk to yours. Some of you have been trying to tell me that, and I haven't been able to hear you. That's entirely on me, and I'm very sorry for treating you EXACTLY the way shitty middle-aged dickheads treated me when I was around your age.

This has been, honestly, a huge revelation to me about who I am in this moment, and who I wanted to be at this point. It makes me reconsider and just ... rethink, I guess? a lot of things. I'm going to grow from this, and I want to end by saying thank you to those of you who tried to communicate to me with kindness. I didn't hear you directly or explicitly, but I think I eventually got there.

So, sidebar you can ignore because it's at the end: Politically, I have a ton of experience. I've spent my life in it, more years than a lot of the people who drag me have been alive. I don't take that personally, because I know how kids are, and I know how kids view adults (and vice/versa). Politically, especially at this specific moment, I don't have a lot of patience for anyone who isn't willing to do the ONE thing that can end Trump: vote for Biden, and vote for Democrats all the way down. I get it. I get that you want someone to win your heart, but if you don't vote with your head, there will not be another election in your lifetime that matters. When Democracy in America is not at stake, I will 100% listen to all of your arguments and all of your reasons you hated voting for Biden, and what we can all do together to make your world better and more fair. But I promise you. I beg you to hear me: the ONLY way we stop Trump and his Fascists is to elect Biden in a LANDSLIDE. Anything less and you're going to spend the best years of your life in an autocracy.

give it a chance ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : college au; roommates au; friends to lovers au

❖ word count : 9,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language, slightly suggestive & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : you convinced yourself to attend a party in order to prevent Lee Minho from doing stupid things; however it’s not so stupid anymore when your roommate said he needed to tell you something important.

❖ a/n : the continuation of what if we is dedicated to @chaninfused, so *clears throat* this is where I hereby declare that she deserves more than what the entire universe can possibly give her; oh hi furat, this is why I’ve been so cryptic all this time. I know this isn’t much but I want to thank you for tolerating me and letting me be mean to you even though we only started talking for a few months; you’re an incredibly great friend and an amazing writer, don’t ever forget that 🖤

one.

It’s been almost a week since Jisung last talked to Minho (albeit texts and FaceTime) and he wakes up to his best friend roaming around his crusty kitchen, struggling to find a bottle of honey. Seungmin’s mom has been constantly sending them thirty packets of rib soup per week. And Minho thinks the sight of Han Jisung slurping on nothing but distorted rice with pork ribs while stressing over his paper for seven days straight is more tragic than his non-existent love life.

“It’s like you’re trying to turn us into gym rats,” Hyunjin snickers lazily, flinging his bangs away from his face. “You even brought us Tupperwares, are you really expecting us not to order tacos impulsively on study nights?” He’s a little dubious about stuff like this because he can feel the actual horror of only eating chicken breast and string beans just by seeing Chan cooking them up. 

Seungmin chucks a piece of lettuce towards his direction, “Don’t you have anything else to do other than complaining?” He knows that when Jisung and Hyunjin decide to order food on study nights, they’re gonna do anything but study.

“Uhm, I actually do,” he replies nonchalantly. “I’m going through Minho’s phone.”

Jisung takes a seat next to him by the counter, propping his head onto his hands, “What’s the point? There’s nothing but cat photos and cat memes...and also Y/N as his background.”

“That angle is hideous, by the way,” Hyunjin comments like the true photography geek he is, which is completely ignored by Minho because he’s too cranky to start a fight at ten in the morning. “But it’s kinda cute for you to do that, so I’m gonna turn a blind eye.”

Jisung asks out of the blue, “Who’s going to BamBam’s party this Sunday? Well, besides the other two-thirds of 3RACHA.” 

“I have a midterm on Monday, dumbass,” Seungmin mumbles while washing his vegetables at the sink. 

“And I’m sleeping over at Lix’s for a project,” Hyunjin informs him lamely, having no intention to attend another single frat party. At least not BamBam’s frat parties—that guy has the weirdest friends; a chick was so drunk that she thought Hyunjin was her boyfriend and almost tried to make out with him on the dance floor. 

Jisung secretly hates going to parties without his friends- no, actually, he never goes to parties without people from his social circle because he dreads the whole introduction part that requires formalities and inevitable awkwardness. But it’s not like that with Minho, ten minutes into their very first conversation and he feels like he’s known him for years. 

In short, he will die if Minho doesn’t come to the party. Chan can only chat with him for so long until his DJ duty occurs and Changbin’s probably gonna be too busy doing keg stands to care about his antisocial friend. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Minho gives in while chopping up the chicken breasts and this prompts Jisung to clap happily like a seal for the next twenty seconds as he skips over to the fridge to fetch a water bottle. “But we’re gonna need a ride, I’m not taking my motorbike for some crackhead to puke on it. Ask Chan later when you crash at his place.”

Jisung tosses his head back to take a peek at the clock hanging by the bookshelf, and it reads 10:07 AM. He really should be getting for his class at eleven because traffic sucks but he’s not feeling like sitting through two hours of Park ranting about marketing strategies. “Can’t Y/N just drive us? I don’t think she’d let anyone else take you home when you’re not sober,” he ponders, earning a nod of agreement from both of his roommates. 

Just when Minho opens his mouth to brush it off, he stops himself to process the information again and holds back a ‘you’re right’ because he hates letting people know that they’re not wrong. He wouldn’t let anyone drive you home when you’re drunk either. “Her car’s with her dad right now,” he tries to sound casual when three pairs of curious eyes are glued onto his back. “I, uh, sorta had it run into a tree last week.”

“You what? How are you still alive?” Hyunjin’s jaw is on the floor and Seungmin accidentally dumps too much vinegar into his salad while Jisung’s choking on the iced cold water, coughing furiously after into the sleeve of his hoodie. Guess Chan’s gonna have to drive them both. After all, he can never say ‘no’ to J.One. 

Minho murmurs, “A dude rear-ended me, fucking idiot.” He finishes marinating the chicken breasts and arranges them nicely onto a tray with aluminum foil on top, pushing it into the preheated oven. “And basically she’s never letting me touch her car again,” he sighs while staring into midair dreamily, flashbacking to last Friday when you immediately Ubered yourself all the way from campus to downtown after picking up his call. All he got was thirty seconds of affection; you made sure that he’s not hurt and the rest was just a monstrous tantrum. He ended up sleeping on the couch that night. 

“My my, you two are just like an old married couple,” Hyunjin chuckles lightheartedly and shakes his head, scrolling through the series of texts in amusement, “What even is this? I swear your conversation consists of 60% ‘when are you going home?’, 40% ‘your lunch is here’ and 20% terrible cat memes.”

“We’re roommates,” Minho drags the word through gritted teeth, holding back all the murderous thoughts inside his head because he feels like Hyunjin’s just asking for a death wish. It’s too early for this. 

Unexpectedly, Seungmin decides he’s in a pretty good mood today since he aced his OChem pop quiz yesterday; meaning, he’s gonna stick his nose into his friend’s business whenever there’s a chance. “Don’t you guys share a bed too?” he pretends to play dumb only to receive a kick in the shin from the older boy. 

“We’re also broke,” Minho cranes his neck tiredly, washing the dirty knife under the tap. “Besides, the heater in the living room sucks.”

“You both even smell the same, it’s getting kinda creepy. Please don’t tell me you guys also share showers to have a light water bill,” Jisung makes a gagging noise and Minho thinks he’s already said too much. His grip on the knife tightens for a split second before letting it drop into the sink. He doesn’t trust himself with anything sharp the moment Hyunjin started this unwanted conversation. He also regrets stealing Changbin’s meal prep recipes to feed his trash friends. 

Minho questions callously, “We just use the same shampoo and shower gel, what’s the big deal?” His hands go for the box of oatmeal that Felix left here last time in the cabinet full of random food. He doesn’t get why Seungmin would buy so much groceries like he’s in a pandemic knowing damn well that his idiotic roommates can’t cook for shit. 

Hyunjin purses his lips, trying to prove his point, “Don’t you think that it’s weird? You don’t do those things with us.”

“Because none of you would fucking house me when I was on the verge of being homeless!”

“And why is she yelling at you through texts anyway? Bro, there’s like ten missed calls here with at least a hundred ‘where are you?’. Why is she terrorizing you this early in the morning?” Minho immediately snaps out of his semi-angry trance, chest heaving up and down. 

“Oh shit,” he facepalms himself. “I promised to pick her up at ten from class, what time is it again?”

“You’re fifteen minutes late, my friend,” Jisung supplies unhelpfully. “It’ll take another ten to arrive at campus, without traffic that is. You’re so dead. D-E-A-D.” It feels weird to hear something correct coming out of Jisung’s mouth (twice in a row) and now Minho wishes he could just whack his friend unconscious on the floor with the new set of microphones that Chan gave him last year for Secret Santa. 

“Oh, I left your rice sitting at ‘warm’, by the way,” Minho makes a grab for his biker jacket and helmet on the counter before fleeing out of the apartment with his sneakers half-way tucked in. It’s not even been thirty minutes since they’ve seen each other for the past week and Jisung’s already choked on water, not once, but twice because of Lee Minho. Sometimes he wonders if the universe is telling him that he needs new friends. 

two. 

“Your boyfriend is late.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss at Yeji while staring at Minho’s contact on your phone anxiously. There’s no reason for you to be; worst-case scenario, you can just take the 0325 home and lock him outside for the night so that he’ll have no choice but to endure Chan’s embarrassing sleeping habits. He wouldn’t even notice either way because he’d be too busy swearing in his sleep to be annoyed. 

Yeji puts her hair up into a ponytail after stretching her limbs tiredly. She only has one class today and no choice but to stay on campus for her shift at the café before lunch break. Too bad Woojin can’t cover her today because of midterms. “I’m only speaking facts,” she tells you with a yawn and notices the slight pout on your face. “Hey, don’t be sad just because your stupid boyfriend can’t pick you up. I can call Chaeryeong if you need a ride here and there, she wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not fucking sad!”

“Y/N, you look more depressed than Ryujin when she got a B+ in calc.” That’s irrelevant, Shin Ryujin already has a GPA booster after signing up for Kim’s stats class, one B+ won’t make it any less sparkly.

You only let out a prolonged sigh after checking your phone for the tenth time in the past half an hour. He isn’t picking up any of your calls, your messages probably can’t even reach him and now you’re sitting at M.I.A Cafe with a cup of plain water after standing outside at the front gate for so long like an idiot. An idiot, who’s hopelessly in love with her roommate- wait what? 

Listen, you already know that this is going to happen. It’s awfully inevitable and it’s getting harder and harder as the days pass by because summer is almost here. Meaning, Minho’s gonna move out soon, according to the contract. 

Are you sad about that? 

Yeah, kinda.

The more you think about it the more you regret your decision that day to let him stay with you. Because now you don’t think you’d be able to sleep without him next to you, hogging the blanket all to himself; you get angsty when he’s not home even if he’s just at dance practice; you’re definitely getting way too used to sharing an earphone with him while you both are dreading your assignments silently at the kitchen counter. And now you’re getting nervous just because he’s thirty minutes late. He’s never late, not even to your Monday Movie Night where you both can pig out and binge-watch the Avatar: The Last Airbender series until you’re sick of it. 

Maybe you’re relying on him too much. Hypothetically speaking, it’s not his fault for the damage of your car but you’re just making excuses to be with him. You even set him as your emergency contact. It’s kinda tedious to be your roommate, you realize. All of those things aren’t mandatory and he can simply mind his own business without having to feel obligated because of the ‘roommates’ label yet he’d still choose you, over everything else. Perhaps he’s dealing with his own first world problems and forgot to leave you a message this time. 

Yeji inquires breezily, wiping a cup dry with a towel, “Also, are you going to BamBam’s party this weekend?”

“For me to carry your ass home after getting shitfaced and sit through another two-hour lecture from Lia? I’ll pass thank you very much.”

She indicates with a quirk of her perfectly dark brow, “What if I tell you that Minho’s gonna be there?” Now she sounds like she’s the one who’s crushing on Lee Minho and not you. Never knew that your friends can be this creepy but the more you learn… “Jisung just told me he found a plus one aka Mister Celebrity to attend that frat party with, you wouldn’t have the heart to let me be the loner right?” she pouts with her nose scrunched and it reminds you too much of Light Fury so you look away, knowing that you wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance if she kept this up.

“How is that my problem?” you merely roll your eyes, slightly annoyed. “And also, isn’t Jisung supposed to have his marketing class now?”

Yeji doesn’t give a damn about what on Earth Han Jisung is doing with his life so she just brushes your question off. “Would you let Minho drink irresponsibly?”

You nod without hesitation, though it feels wrong coming out of your mouth, “He can do whatever he wants...as long as my carpet remains clean after his hangover.”

“Would you let me drink irresponsibly?”

“The same goes for you,” you tell her monotonously. “And I only picked you up because Lia sounded like she was hyperventilating when you attended that one law brat’s birthday party. Na Jaemin, wasn’t it? Hate that guy, by the way.”

Yeji thinks it’s time for you to open up even more and not despise people that much. Having Lee Minho as your roommate is already a huge step-up but it’s not like there have been any modifications to your routine except the fact that another human being is simply enduring your bitchy ass of a loner. She wants you to be really out there, just not messing with shit like doing keg stands because Seo Changbin is a terrible influence. Woojin once had to drop his shift at the sushi place to drive Jeongin home because Changbin left him hanging on the beanbag chair for a game of beer pong. Jeongin has never gone to another single party since. 

“You hate literally everyone!” Yeji’s getting impatient, you can feel it.

“Are you telling me it’s my fault that people are shitty?” you bark, massaging the sides of your temple tiredly. You wish you could just drop the entirety of your current presentation to Yeji because your brain cells are already evaporating one by one into thin air.

She barks back, merely sneering, “C’mon! Y/N, it’s not like you ever have plans for the weekend.”

“But I’m having midterms on Monday, I didn’t spend my time on those notes for nothing.”

She shakes her head at you almost in disapproval. Sure, you’re a coward for backing out on this because BamBam’s no stranger to you. That Thai kid has been hanging out with Chan since middle school and he always offers to buy you coffee whenever you happen to drop by as they’re working on a project together. He’s a nice guy, but you don’t know him that well. Something in your gut is telling you that he has weird friends (he totally does). And you’re not about to overdrink only to blurt out an awful confession to Minho while being surrounded by a bunch of crackheads that aren’t in your social sphere.

“I heard kids are vapi-” Yeji stops herself, thinking she should just give up, and get ready for the next batch of sleep-deprived customers coming in at lunch break before Jeongin chucks an avocado at her direction for chit-chatting too much about your gigantic crush on Minho. “Nevermind, it’s not like you’d care anyway, have fun with reviewing I guess.” And with that, she leaves you alone with the cup of plain water to dump the used coffee grounds in the trash.

It takes you at least ten seconds to comprehend what she just said. And you’ve come up with a new yet very last-minute decision: screw midterm because you’re making sure that Lee Minho’s going home in one piece. 

Very timely, your phone buzzes on the wooden counter.

[10:38 AM]

lino | hey you still on campus?

three.

The blush scattered across your cheekbones just grows ten shades darker when you see Minho at the front gate leaning against his black Kawasaki; disheveled hair, hands stuffed inside his pockets, occasional puffs of smoke escaping his lips, and unbothered gaze. You’ve never told him this, you’re not telling him this now, and you’re never gonna tell him; but he looks stupidly good in that biker jacket. Again, you don’t get how someone can look this good early in the morning. 

“What are you doing here?” you murmur grimly, approaching him from behind. It feels like he’s doing this to your heart on purpose, without even trying. And those girls over there are making you very uncomfortable by eyeing your roommate up and down like he’s an expensive piece of steak with a gold leaf sticking to it.

Minho turns sideways and flashes you a smile; your little heart just did a perfect cartwheel because of that, it can only take so much. “Sorry, I kinda lost track of time, but I still promised to pick you up, didn’t I?” he says casually as your face morphs into a deep frown because you’re basically confused. The only problem is: you don’t even know why you’re confused. There’s this fluttering feeling at the pit of your stomach and now you feel as though someone just gives you a blow to the head when Minho looks straight into your eyes, brows slightly knitted together.

This is not healthy. 

“You didn’t answer my calls or my texts.”

Minho thinks you look cuter than usual when you’re silently fuming because you’re not the type to lash out on people. But it’s not so cute anymore when you threatened to flush his AirPods down the toilet that one time when he spilled ketchup on your carpet. He just hopes he doesn’t end up sleeping on the couch tonight like last time. 

“I put my phone on silent, as always,” he reminds you of how much of a pain in the ass it is to receive a call-back or a simple reply from him. 

You make a face, “Whatever, didn’t I tell you not to make a scene? Have you seen those chicks back there? They’re watching me as if I’m sabotaging their dreams of eating you alive.” Well, you can’t exactly blame your roommate for having girls gushing over him wherever he goes because...it’s his fault for looking like a snack all the time. 

Minho quickly detects how you’re not overly fond of his admirers and needless to say, he’s fairly amused. “Then let them,” he puts an arm over your shoulders and pulls you flushed against him, ruffling your hair. Moments later, you’re already hearing scandalous gasps along with hushed whispers going through your eardrums like a never-ending train. It’s really setting your nerves on fire. 

“Don’t you think that this is weird?”

“What?” Now it’s Minho who’s confused here. 

You slightly push him away and avert your gaze elsewhere to avoid eye contact. “We’re roommates, right?” you mumble, slightly unsure about...all of this. 

“Hmm, what about it?”

“Well, I don’t know…” you fiddle with the hem of your jacket and sigh. “What if people keep getting the wrong idea about us?” You sound somewhat regretful as if your decision of taking him in as your roommate was a mistake, as if you feel like it’s better off if he wasn’t in your life at all, as if the past month was completely meaningless. Since when did things become this complicated? It started with a harmless one-month contract and now Minho’s not sure of what he should do next. But that’s not it, is it? Maybe he’s just overthinking too much. 

He looks hesitant for a moment there, very not-Lee-Minho of him. “We’re still cool right?” Minho tilts his head to the side, the afternoon sunlight slips through fluffs of white clouds and brings the constellations in his warm brown eyes to life. Though he looks like a scolded child, you can’t help but want to put this moment into a frame and simply cherish it for the rest of your life. 

“Beats me,” you breathe out, silently hating yourself for not being able to get angry at him. It’s harder than you thought, really, and it doesn’t help when his eyes keep doing that thing to your poor little heart. “Make me pasta and we’re good,” you end up chuckling when Minho’s expression turns a solid three hundred and sixty at the offer.

“That’s not a very smart move for a business major, your loss,” he replies with a goofy smile, tossing the helmet that he got you yesterday in your direction. And if you pay attention enough, you can almost see Minho exhaling out of relief. But you’re too busy staring at the ground to douse yourself in your own giddiness to notice. “Oh crap, I think I left my wallet at Hyunjin’s,” he tells you after swinging a leg over on his shiny vehicle. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “You don’t need your wallet to make me pasta now do you?”

“By the way, are you going to BamBam’s party?”

“Only if you’re going,” you scratch the bridge of your nose with your ring finger, a little embarrassed to admit that he’s the only reason why you’re ditching midterms. 

Minho’s hearty laugh fills your eardrums, shit-eating grin and all. “If it makes you feel better, Chan’s driving us,” he voices without looking at you, but your chest still swells either way. 

You fucking hate how you have the softest spot for him. 

four.

You’re already regretting this although you’ve only been sitting in Chan’s back seats for less than twenty minutes. Crankiness takes over your body as a result of reviewing for the whole afternoon, your eyelids are getting droopy, and your head seems to be all too big for your neck at this rate. More reasons for you to not drink tonight. 

“Ugh, why am I even here?” you groan, and Jisung scrunches his nose, slightly alarmed because you’re not usually this loud unless you’re high on caffeine. 

Minho tells you in the most lighthearted way possible, “Because you love me.” 

You wish you could just put his head through a wall because everything and anything coming out of his mouth are never healthy for your mind, or heart. “Uhm, no I don’t.”

“But you did confess your love to me,” he singsongs as if he just hit a jackpot with his lottery ticket, angling his head to toss you a wink. “I have receipts, ma’am. They’re right here, in my heart.” Minho’s never seen you so giddy before so he recorded everything, but he’s not planning on putting himself on a chopping block by telling you that. 

You shove his arm and purse your lips, flaming cheeks but the car’s too dark for him to see it. “I was sick, asshole, I talk shit more when I have a fever than when I’m drunk,” you defend yourself helplessly, not enjoying the fact that he had to bring it up when you’re in a confined space with Seo Changbin and Han Jisung. 

“Minho doesn’t like it when Y/N raises her voice.” Great, now he’s talking in third person. 

“What are you even? Four?”

He winks at you, “Baby me, baby.”

“Oh my god shut the fuck up and get away from me!”

“You’ll never get rid of me, baby.” Eventually, you give up because you’re too mentally exhausted and there’s still a long night ahead of you. You’re not wasting your energy in pointless arguments with him because you both yell at each other on a daily basis anyway. 

“Maybe he’ll zip it if you tell him that you love him,” Jisung suggests innocently with a not-so-innocent look on his face. He’s already acting dumb when he’s this fucking sober so you’re not looking forward to two hours later when vodka’s practically replaced his own blood. 

“I’d rather chew off my own foot.” Changbin snorts involuntarily at your stiff remark, Chan mutters a small ‘ouch’ while Jisung’s too busy laughing his ass off. And a demeaning silence descends after that. 

Minho’s right next to you, oddly unresponsive to the situation, his head leaning against your shoulder as he gazes dejectedly out the window. You don’t see how stormy his eyes are. He also misses his motorcycle tremendously because Chan’s the safest (slowest) driver to ever exist. No joke, if he keeps going at the pace of thirty miles per hour then you should just skip the party and watch a movie while getting drunk at his place altogether. 

“Can you go any fucking slower?”

“Excuse me?” Chan laughs in disbelief, he’s a little offended because he personally thinks he’s a good driver, maybe a little bit too obedient when it comes to the law. Hey, at least you know you’re in good hands. “I’m not trying to get us all killed before BamBam could poison one of you guys.” 

Jisung purses his lips as he’s reminded of the last party where he ran into that Thai dude. He gave him a plastic cup, telling him that it’s merely a harmless fruity vodka only for Jisung to get kicked out by an Uber driver after throwing up in the back seats. Turns out, the lemons and oranges in the cocktail were relatively spoilt. 

“I’m gonna die from boredom before we could even get into a car accident,” Minho informs him unconstructively, staring at some random notifications from Instagram of people commenting on his cats’ photos, text messages from his mom and swipes them all away. Mostly to chuckle to himself like a moron because of his lock screen. Yes, your stupid face is still on there after three weeks and you don’t know if you should be crying or laughing.

Chan narrows his eyes at the rear-view mirror, “It seems like you’re entertaining yourself just fine by looking at Y/N’s face.” 

“This photo does make me laugh because it’s priceless,” the younger boy states without turning his head to look at you. “But still, bored.” 

The car grows silent again soon after because Chan’s already been stressed out enough from traffic since clearly, people can’t drive to save their own lives. But it’s not like your friends can keep their mouths shut for the rest of the trip anyway. 

“Boreddd,” Minho voices randomly while a J.One’s song is blasting through the speaker. It’s a terribly soft song and it doesn’t help when Minho feels like he can downright sleep through an earthquake, potentially falling into an enormous crack on the Earth’s surface and still being able to nap like there’s no tomorrow. He’s just glad that Jisung grew out of ‘Wow’ and embraces his awkward self through his own music. It’s..sentimental but what’s a J.One song without that element?

Changbin looks up from his phone for half a second, wholly uninterested. “Then shut up and sleep,” he says expressionlessly. Very timely, his most recent track comes up next on the playlist and he starts rapping along with it. Minho thinks he can really use a good eye shut as SpearB is performing live right behind him because Changbin can only stay sober like this for so long until he gets his hands on one of BamBam’s sketchy-looking concoctions. 

You’re starting to get bored too at this rate because usually, during times like this when the car is filled with nothing but music and everyone (except for the driver) feels like they’re falling into a food coma, a certain idiot will—

“Y/N, don’t you have a midterm on Monday?” Ah, there it is. 

Jisung bends himself forward and drapes an arm over the leather seat, scrunching his nose at the sight of Minho sleeping soundly against your shoulder. He’s still bitter about the fact that Minho refuses to drive anyone other than you with his motorcycle for some reason. Exclusive things are always so annoying. 

You exhale deeply because Jisung reminds you of that one kid who always asks questions that stress the hell out of the teachers back in high school. Would it kill for him to just shut up once in a while? 

“I do, and I haven’t got a wink of sleep since yesterday afternoon,” you tell him rather lazily, shifting when Minho snuggles himself closer to you, his hair tickling your jawline. You pray he doesn’t know how fast your heart is beating. “A little alcohol might spare me a night of crying myself to sleep.” 

Jisung lets his bottom lip stuck out like he’s a fucking five-year-old not allowed to get his favorite ice-cream flavor. “Aww, you should have asked Minho for cuddles then, pretty sure he’d be more than happy to—,” he remarks sarcastically and you wish you could just throw him in the middle of an intersection. He’s lucky because Minho’s a heavy sleeper or he would have been knocked senseless or something. The last thing Chan needs is being forced to pull over for having wild animals wrestle the shit out of each other in his vehicle. 

“Hey, fuck off,” you snarl at him, knowing you should have chosen the passenger seat instead. That way, you wouldn’t be fuming inside because you can’t physically strangle Han Jisung to his imminent death. He has already tattooed that image into the back of your brain and you swear you’ve never heard a creepier chuckle from your friend. 

Jisung notices the coral tint on your cheeks and sneers, leaning back against his seat. “Yeah right, as if you’re actually gonna get drunk,” he says snarkily. “You’re just gonna be there to prevent Lee Minho from making bad decisions.” 

“I decided to come because Yeji wanted me-“

“Yeji who? In what world will you have time for her when you’re too busy staring at Minho like a total creep? Wanna bet ten bucks?” 

That’s bullshit because Lee Minho is already your entire world. 

Chan butts in, “Make that fifty.”

Changbin raises his hand, “I’d bet my Tesla.” Your friends really spelled out ‘a bunch of fucking clowns’ in bold, gigantic capital letters and you’re this close to facepalm yourself against Chan’s steering wheel. This is why you don’t go to parties with them that often because you’re stuck with cleanup duties with Seungmin until these crackheads grow out of their amateur drinking habits. 

“You’re just jealous because he would rather call you an Uber than give you a lift himself,” you say pointedly and Jisung lets out the loudest, most scandalous gasp. So dramatic. 

“You,” he jabs a finger at you, eyes wide in accusation. “Need a nap.”

You laugh dryly, ignoring the urge to snap a picture of his flabbergasted expression and turn it into a new meme for your group chat. “You don’t say, Han, you don’t say.”

And Changbin rolls his eyes over the moon, vividly picturing where this disastrous conversation is gonna go. Basically, he wants you to get shitfaced as soon as you step foot into BamBam’s house so he’ll have a sappy, drunk confession video to toss on Twitter tonight because Woojin just posted a picture of him with a drumstick dipped inside a glass of what looks like a watered-down Margarita. He’s highly concerned since there hasn’t been anything juicy on his feed other than his friends creeping people out with their questionable content. 

“If you two don’t end up getting drunk and kiss, I’m gonna be pissed,” Changbin says casually as if it’s just an afterthought. This prompts you to chuck your phone in his direction—you can care less about your screen protector at this point if it means stopping him from taunting you further. 

He asserts like a snake, “Hey, remember that time where you tripped over Kkami and totally crushed Minho under your weight?”

“I blame gravity for that.”

“But Albert Einstein said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”

“Who cares about Albert Einstein?!” you whisper-shout harshly, cautiously eyeing Minho’s sleeping figure. He scrunches his nose and murmurs something that you can’t quite hear before turning over to face you completely. His arms unexpectedly slip underneath yours like second nature. He furrows his eyebrows occasionally, other times he’d be grinning like an idiot and his lips are slightly agape, full eyelashes framing his eyes beautifully. Sometimes you wonder how weird his dreams are whenever you caught him talking (and cursing) in his slumber. 

Changbin wants to pry aloud when you start staring at Minho for too long; he might as well be tossed on the freeway at this point before exasperation squeezes the little amount of oxygen left out of his chest. This is worse than Hyunjin’s terrible rom coms. He props his head onto his hand in boredom as Chan pulls over and turns off the engine. “Hey we’re here, why not wake your prince up with a kiss—”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” you threaten. 

Now there are two distasteful tattoos at the back of your head. And you will not hesitate for a heartbeat sacrificing the entirety of your bank account to get them removed. To get Lee Minho removed from your mind.

If only it were that easy.  

“Mhmm,” the figure beside you lets out a low grunt and hugs your arm closer instinctively. His warmth seeps through the fabric of your denim jacket and sets your heart on fire. You’re ready to flick his forehead any second now to interrupt his slumber but before you could even do anything, Seo Changbin aggressively opens the door and you widen your eyes in horror. Where the fuck did he get a megaphone? And what for?

“Bitch wake up! Those drinks aren’t gonna finish themselves!”

It’d be a miracle if you ended up finding him alive by dawn. 

five.

“Y/N you ass, give it back!

“No, we’ve only been here for three hours and this is your fifth cup already,” you tell her in a mildly serious tone before dumping her cup of whatever the fuck of a yellow substance that Ryujin gave her ten minutes ago into the sink. 

Yeji plops herself onto the sofa in the living room after you drag her out of the kitchen where people are making out on the marble counter. Glad to see nothing’s changed...idiots. “God, you’re such a party pooper, I shouldn’t have told you to come,” she complains in between small hiccups, alcohol tinting her cheeks beet red. 

“I’m here to save your ass and this is how you’re repaying me?” Your question didn’t come out as coherent and threatening as you imagined and every single cell inside your body is shaking for no specific reason. 

Your friend narrows her eyes down into a mere glare like a detective in those crimes shows that you spend way too much time on and you’re debating whether you should be laughing or pissing yourself. She fucking knows that you’re lying. She fucking knows the sole reason for you to be here. “Give me a break, it’s not like you’re doing anything besides staring at your boyfriend from afar,” Yeji scoffs dejectedly. 

“God forbids ‘Lee Minho’ and ‘my boyfriend’ go in the same sentence,” you grit, subconsciously averting your gaze around the living room to spot your roommate. All he’s been doing is being held back by Chan when he tried to murder Changbin once, catching up with his old friends from high school and hanging out with some of his classmates, ranting about how much he dreads Kim’s eight AM, gushing with Hyunjin over some senior’s choreography set. By the looks of it, Jisung must have handed him at least seven of those red party cups from the bar—thanks to BamBam who keeps restocking them every hour. 

Yeji chuckles creepily when the alcohol finally hits her hard, you think you just got chills by the way that she’s leaning closer. “Of course not,” she hiccups into your ear, words slurred, “Lee Minho’s not my boyfriend, he’s your boyfriend.” You look at her in the eye, and mentally regret your life choices. How insufferable. 

“I mean, seriously,” she slams her body back onto the couch and groans; you can’t tell if it’s out of frustration or the cushion is too soft for her back. “It’s like you’re living the life of the main protagonist in a Harry Styles fanfiction! Do you know how many girls and boys would kill to live in the same apartment as that?” Her index finger is pointed directly at the person you’ve been watching and avoiding all night, across the room with a dart in his hand as he stands in front of the dartboard. 

“Were you aiming for the board or were you plotting to kill me? Because I can’t tell! I-can’t-fucking-tell!” Changbin shouts over the music and you momentarily cringe at the crack in his voice; it’s never a college party without one of your friends riling each other up over the dumbest things. And also, who thinks it’s a good idea to lend an unstable Lee Minho a sharp object of any kind?

You look away as heat flares through your nostrils when Minho accidentally glances at you after laughing at some corny joke that Chan made. He’s more than mildly hammered right now, you suppose, because, well, Chan can only make people laugh when they’re exceptionally drunk. 

A stupid question then slips out of your lips. “With what?” It sounds like you only have one brain cell and are perpetually dumb. It makes you feel even dumber when there’s nothing but a can of Coke inside your body. 

“A hottie who dances, cooks, has a good sense of humor, lowkey a genius, highkey a tsundere, shares a name with a famous actor. Far more handsome than the actor himself, if I dare.” Yeji has no hesitation whatsoever naming every reason as to why people on campus shamelessly throw themselves at your roommate on a daily basis. And now your head grows ten times fuzzier, floating mundanely in the clouds above. Basically, you feel like you’re drunk—except your confidence isn’t sky high enough to do something stupid—which makes no absolute sense. 

The silver-haired girl next to you puts an arm around your neck and giggles, you’re highly perturbed that her vocal cords are gonna give in tomorrow when she convinces you through FaceTime that you should be extra careful with your notes since she won’t be showing up to class. “Oh! And he has three cats, right? Cat people are said to be more intuitive and thoughtful, that’s a bonus,” Yeji asserts and your jaw is on the floor at this rate. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance during lunch break and she already knows this much?

No wonder Minho never talked about his cats with Felix and Seungmin again.

“I bet you read that off a Buzzfeed article.” 

“Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s wrong!”

You inhale and exhale deeply, linking your fingers together, “Yeah, but that’s all people will ever see.”

“Well, what else can they like about him?”

“I don’t know,” you say bluntly, but the rouge on your cheeks is anything but ‘blunt’. “They don’t see how stuck-up he is, how he loves hogging the blanket all to himself, how he secretly stocks up a stash of trashy snacks. They don’t see the way his eyes sparkle when he looks into their eyes during a conversation because he’s actually a very attentive listener.”

Yeji pats your back without turning her head, slightly amused, “I think you meant how he looks into your eyes during a conversation.”

Your eyes scan the room one more time to find Minho hugging his stomach from laughing too much, there are actual tears in his eyes because Changbin just lost a bet and apparently he has to belly flop himself into the pool as a punishment. You haven’t seen him this happy in a while, even when he’s potentially dying from a really bad stomachache but it still puts your heart at ease knowing he’s having fun tonight. 

Needless to say, he always knocks the breath right out of your lungs without much effort. Even when he’s ditched the leather jacket and ripped jeans, you still think no one looks better than him in a large t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“But I don’t get it,” Yeji looks over at you this time, real carefully because your tone just grows firmer and more serious. “How can he just stand there, laugh...and look so beautiful?”

“I told you—”

“Yeah that’s exactly what I need to hear right now, Yeji,” you facepalm almost immediately, highly disappointed in yourself. 

Jisung’s getting his ten dollars on Monday when you surprise him with two slices of cheesecake from his favorite dessert place. Changbin can keep his Tesla and Chan...Chan isn’t getting anything.

You push yourself off the blue velvet couch and groan, you’re getting sore quickly because the cushions are far too soft. “Let me get some fresh air, I feel like I’m gonna to lose my mind,” you tell your friend but you doubt that she caught it since the music is all too loud for students to communicate properly. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why fistfights during parties are a thing. 

“Uhm, wait,” Yeji tugs onto your sleeve and jerks her head towards the direction of Minho. “I’m sorry but what the hell does your boyfriend want now?”

“Huh where—“

Like..three feet away. Or a whole lot closer. 

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” And you find Minho standing in front of you with his arms crossed stubbornly, eyebrows knitted together and tinted pink cheeks. He looks a little pissed off, and you don’t think you’re both on the same page here. 

When you give him a ‘what do you mean’ look, your roommate feels the need to unlock his phone and jab his index finger against his poor crusty screen as he shows you at least fifty messages that he’s been spamming in the last half an hour. This reminds you of the yellow Post-It note that Minho violently smacked onto your fridge the very night when he first moved in. 

‘I hereby fucking declare that if we did end up going to the same party (doubt btw), we would keep our phones with us 25/8 so one can save the other’s ass from stupid decisions— lee minho’ he wrote. Minho knows all too well the only ass that needs to be saved is his. And you’ve thought about taking the note down several times but you don’t think you’d have the heart to. 

“Oh,” your head draws a blank canvas and you look for your phone in your pocket. But then, “I left my phone in Chan’s car.”

Minho rolls his eyes at you and decides that he’s too impatient to wait for Chan to sober up and remember where he left his keys. “Whatever,” he manages to crack a small smile, one that shines through the dimmed LED light on the ceiling and makes your heart stuck in your throat. “Let’s get out of here, I have something to tell you.” 

“Hey hey hey,” Yeji tries to get up from the couch but her limbs are too wobbly. “You can’t just tap out all of a sudden and steal her from me like that. Don’t even think for a minute you second rate—”

“Yeah, no, she’s mine.”

You’re downright baffled. But you’re not sure if it’s because of what he said ten seconds ago and your heart is going haywire, your brain cells are giving in on you or it’s because he’s tugging you by the wrist and piloting you through the impending chaos of sloppy college students. 

You’re not sure if you want to know. You’re not sure if you’re ready. 

six.

Fall arrives sooner than you thought and it almost makes you miss summer. Though you didn’t really have anything exciting besides an internship that refrained you from living on YouTube for too long. 

The evening is oddly cold, but you’ve never had a problem with the tips of your fingers growing chilly. It’s different tonight—it’s the kind of coldness that slips through your flesh and into your bones, coming in contact with the thumping force of your heart, causing it to shiver. There’s nothing to do but keep your gaze straight forward, your feet moving on their own with the one and only goal of heading home. Clouds with the murky color of wet ashes pass by, and the ground as its dank reflection—a reminder of how humanity is ruining the planet. 

The streets are so quiet and tranquil; you’re afraid that Minho might be able to hear your heartbeat. Now you’re pointing a finger at society in accusation because it’s the weekend yet no elder couples are taking their night strolls, no middle-aged ladies in fluffy jackets are walking their spoiled teacups dogs and no wasted college students are roaming the streets with ‘trouble’ spelled out on their forehead. Really, you’d rather stare at people in a creepy way and zone out than constantly thinking about Lee Minho when he’s right beside you. 

This is terribly suffocating and you don’t think if you can keep this up in the next thirty minutes until both of you get home and melt into the comfort of your bed. 

“Sober up, Mister Celebrity, that’s too much fun for tonight.” Minho winces slightly when you press a can of cold green tea against his cheeks as he’s about to doze off on the wooden bench next to the vending machine. While he’s taking a swig, you feel a silent obligation to take a seat but your eyes are determinedly fixed on the curb. 

The bench suddenly feels far too big and the night breeze is far too cold for Minho’s liking, so he shifts his body closer, fingers brushing over yours and sending electricity down your spine. “What do you mean?” he scoffs, finding it hard to not look at you so his gaze is temporarily glued onto the can of green tea in his palms. “Tonight was nothing compared to Jisung’s birthday.” He can still feel the remaining warmth from your hands, it makes him wonder how it’d feel to actually hold them. 

“Ugh, god,” you shake your head in disbelief, internally cringing. “Don’t even remind me.”

You still don’t know what Hyunjin fed him that day to the point he couldn’t remember what happened. All hell broke loose Felix posted a video of him pretending to be a stupid ostrich and trying to do a mating dance towards Jisung on Twitter. No one dares to talk about that scarred video since. Now that he’s reminded you of it, you wish you didn’t own brain cells in the first place. This is why the internet is scary. 

“What is it that you wanted to tell me anyway?” 

Minho stops for a second at your question and places his beverage down on the bench. He stares distantly at the space ahead as if he’s fighting with himself inside his own head, seriously contemplating something. It’s come to your attention that this isn’t very like his usual self. Minho never hesitates for a second when he has something in mind. Even when he knows that you might rip his head off.

He exhales deeply, turns his head, and makes direct eye contact with you for what seems like an eternity. His eyes are as wide open and honest as a child’s, they possess something so much more the longer you stare at them. A warmth, safety. Your heart is gonna combust if he doesn’t get this over with soon. 

Then, “I think I forgot to put yeast in the batter.” Wait what?

“Minho!” you punch his arm, earning a low grunt from the blond-haired boy. “Don’t fucking scare me like that!” He’s looking at you as though your eyes are turning red with rage and smoke is coming out of your ears, scared for his own life but truthfully, you’re just relieved. Surprisingly. 

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” he asks you with a wide-eyed expression, trying way too hard to keep a straight face. “Aren’t we supposed to bring homemade bread for the get together at the nursing home tomorrow?”

“Old people still enjoy Bingo for some reason, they can have that instead of bread.” His mouth forms a small ‘o’ as he scoots closer to you and you can tell that he reeks off alcohol, which is making you a little dizzy. When your gaze falls elsewhere but Lee Minho, you attempt to appear casual, “But if you wanna bake so badly, I can still pull an all-nighter and start over with you.” That was doable, but you could have done better—should have sounded like you didn’t really care. 

Minho flings his bangs away from his face and tosses his head back, chuckling breathlessly. “Don’t you have a midterm to stress over instead of me? I don’t want you to pick out every single strand of hair on your head after baking with me.” He finally said something nice once in a while, you sorta appreciate it. “It’d be embarrassing when my parents FaceTime me and see you as bald as my great grandfather.” Nevermind, he’s still the same old jerk. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you’ll be moving out in two weeks, either way, right?” Your tone sounds sad and grim all of a sudden; it really dampens the atmosphere because Minho is now looking at you with concern laced in his brown eyes. “Look, I get that it’s bothersome to be my roommate so there’s no need to feel bad. I’ll be fine going back to my old life where my feet don’t get cold in the middle of the night because no one would be there to hog the blanket anymore.”

Minho feels the need to clear things up here. “I never said anything about moving out,” he grabs you by the shoulders and hopes you could just look at him when he’s being serious for once. “Y/N, who even said anything about moving out? Was it the landlord?”

“No,“ you say, still not willing to face him directly. You’re such a coward. 

“If so, why would I move out? Did I do something wrong? Did I piss you off or something?”

You’re trying so hard not to snap at this point. “No!”

“Then why can’t you just fucking look at me?!”

“You’re still drunk, let me buy you another—“

Minho shakes you forcefully, hoping to knock some common sense into that brain of yours. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not drunk!” he cries helplessly, not caring about the fact that he’s waking up every cat possible in the neighborhood. “Just- just look at me, will you?”

You stubbornly keep your eyes anywhere but him. “Why would I look at your stupid face?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. You’re not usually like this.”

Every single cell inside your body quivers simultaneously when he says so—good god, no, he’s testing you. Minho knows something’s off. Now to think about it again, you’d rather let him dirty your carpet than being put on trial like this.

“You wanna know why I’m acting like this? It’s because of you! You’re making me nervous! It’s your fault for making me feel this way!”

“What?” he blurts, eyes blinking numerous times in disbelief. “What did I ever do to you?”

“God, Minho, you can’t possibly be this dense. Tell me, that you’ve never, not even once, seen me turning beet red when you simply look at me in the eye. Or when you’re just sitting there, laughing your ass off about something stupid. It makes my heart flutter, okay? You make my heart flutter. Do you know how much of an effect you can have on me? You don’t go around juggling with others’ feelings like that,” your voice grows smaller and smaller towards the end until there’s nothing but an oddly comfortable silene floating midair. A sense of relief washes over you; you unknowingly exhale.

Minho stares at you in awe for a moment there, until he also speaks up for himself. “Maybe you should take your own advice,” he almost snickers, and this causes you to peel your gaze away from a random bush to gawk at his response. “You’re telling me to not go around juggling with others’ feelings? If anything, you’re the one who keeps messing with my heart. What am I supposed to do? Not get drunk so that I won’t be able to get away for doing dumb things?”

“What dumb things?”

“I don’t know, kiss you?”

“Fuck, you can’t get away with it this time now, can you?”

You’re already regretting this and there’s no turning back. Because when Minho subconsciously runs his tongue over his bottom lips, you’re already fighting the rouge spreading on your cheekbones. He shortens the distance between your heads until your lips are practically a breath away from his. Impatient, you grab a fistful of his shirt to smash your lips against his. Minho stays frozen for a nanosecond, taken aback by your boldness before pulling you closer by the waist. You’re hesitant at first, but he guides you through it, telling you that it’s okay by embracing you more tightly. Dear god, Minho’s kissing you and the world just falls away. It’s slow, comforting in ways that words can never be. He slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, smiling into it when giddiness bubbles up inside his stomach. 

The world still feels like it’s spinning when he parts away, an alcoholic taste mixed with the green tea ghosts your lips, and your face grows ten times hotter. Even in this cracked darkness, Minho sees you blush hard and is fully aware that his cheeks are mirroring yours—he doesn’t even bother to convince himself that it’s from the alcohol, because it isn’t. 

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Minho questions though his breath is still a bit shaky from the kiss. He really didn’t lie when he said that he could never stop bothering you. 

You can’t help but smile at him brightly; this causes his heartbeat to spike inside his chest. “Well, do I have to?” He shakes his head and stares down at your hands until he musters up every strand of courage left to finally intertwine them with his own. Fits like a glove. 

“Come on, let’s go home,” he tells you softly, eyes crinkling into a pretty crescent moon shape. But you stop him right there when he attempts to stand up and wordlessly lean your forehead against his. Minho understands that you simply need a moment so you both hover right there, simply melting into each other’s touch. But what you say next just makes the ignited passion inside his heart flare-up. He’s at a loss for words, utterly speechless. 

“I am home.”

“Welcome home then, Y/N,” Minho whispers.

Everything feels like a dream that you’d never want to wake up from. His hands are clasped on either side of your face, resting just below the lobes of your ears. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks so that you won’t drift away, your breaths mingling. Never before has your own name made your heart flutter. But you guess it’s only because Minho said it. You do know that it’s not an afterthought, nor out of impulse. It’s a promise, for whatever’s coming your way on this path, he’s never gonna leave you behind. And the moment he feels that thing beating inside his chest is in sync with yours, he slowly leans in again.

Albert Einstein once said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love. And you have every right to argue with him in the afterlife because you’ve confirmed that Minho is your gravity. Gravity keeps you grounded, always get a hold of you so that you won’t ever have to wander off too far away. It’s there for you but it doesn’t have to act like it cares. Minho’s kinda like that too—he picked you up every time you said you’re good walking home, he only stocked up the stash of candies to secretly feed your midnight cravings. They only differ so much where his heartbeat for you is loud, undaunted and he loves you fearlessly; nothing shall meddle with his feelings for you as long as the way your eyes light up when they meet his doesn’t change. 

Before you met Minho, you didn’t know that it was possible to just look at someone and smile for no reason. The way his lips curl up when he smiles, his sarcastic remarks, his kindhearted nature though he’s awfully good at hiding it. That’s what people do when they’re in love, they say—to fawn over the littlest things but they’re what makes you fall so hard for him. But as time passes by, you’ve learned that it’s actually quite nice to be in love with someone. Because then, you get to spend your time and effort on their happiness as well, not just your own. In exchange, that person is capable of bringing colors to your dull world, tearing down your walls, and showing you just how beautiful life can be. Surely, Minho might not stay by your side forever in this crazy game of Monopoly but you’d risk it all for him even if the sky comes crashing and the universe turns upside down. 

After all, you can’t love alone. 

The Notorious Alpha// Chapter One//Peter Hale

A/N: I KNOW. I KNOW. I am terrible, but life has been a mess. With university, personal life and all that. My mom had the corona but she is great now. I am trying  to come back to writing.  I am really sorry guys. Merry belated Christmas!

The Notorious Alpha// master list.

Chapter one.

S02 E12- Master Plan

Zoe’s P.O.V.

I parked my new BMW X6, which was a gift from my father when he tried to get me to stay with him, in front of Beacon Hills High School to see my little brother and Stiles who is not my brother but after knowing him for his entire life, I am pretty sure he is my brother. 

As I walk in the school hallways so many memories come to my mind, I mean it’s only been a year since I was a student here, I miss high school life was so much easier. I was late when I parked the car in the parking lot, some people were leaving, there was a lacrosse game tonight, Stiles took my ear off about it. I walked towards the locker room first to see if the boys were in there, as I neared the locker rooms I could hear talking.

“She is gorgeous,” a voice said.

“Shut up” I heard two different voices say at the same time and I am pretty sure one of them was Scott.

I leaned against the wall watching for a few seconds, and I decided to make myself known.

“Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes!” I say and in a flash four pairs of eyes snap to me. I see my brother, a cute blond guy beside him and to men in front of the boys.

“Zoe?” Scott said surprised to see me.

“Surprise, I guess?” I said a little bit weirded out from all the attention I was getting right now.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asked me.

“Stiles called me a couple days ago, filled me in on what's going on. I got a little tied up with dad or else I would have been here sooner” I answered “ I can’t believe you are a werewolf” I continued.

“Uhmm, who is she?” the cute blond asked.

“Zoe, my sister,” Scott said.

“Another McCall? Great,” the tall moody man said sarcastically.

“Tone down the sarcasm Cranky Pants” I bit back at him.

I glared at the man as I walked around him towards my brother. I am not going to lie, he is kind of hot.

“I am going to guess you are Derek and you are Isaac,” they both look at me weird, “as I said Stiles filled me in”.

“Hi,” Isaac said awkwardly.

“Hi,” I said sweetly to him, “so, who is the Cranky pants.” I pointed towards him as he glared at me and I sarcastically smiled back at him.

“That's Peter, Derek’s uncle. Little while back he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire and Derek slashed his throat out.” Scott explained.

“Hi.” Peter waved with a small awkward smile.

“That's good to know,” Isaac replied. 

I was too shocked to say anything, I mean yeah Stiles filled me in but only informed me about my brother being a werewolf, the kanima, and Derek’s pack. That is just too much to handle. I mean my brother took part in the murder of someone, werewolf or not, psycho or not, that is still a life. Not to mention the supposed murdered victim is alive, breathing, and standing  right in front of me.

“How is he alive?” Scott asked, still glaring at Peter .

“Look, long story short he knows how to stop Jackson, maybe even save him”  Derek answered him.

“Well that’s very helpful, except Jackson is dead” Issac says.

“WHAT?” I scream the same time Derek says what too.

“Yeah! Jackson is dead. It just happened on the field” Scott confirms. 

Derek and Peter look at each other obviously bothered by the news.

“Okay why is no one taking it as good news?” Issac asks. 

“Because if Jackson is dead, it didn’t just happen. Gerard wanted it to happen,” Peter says, and damn his voice is deep, mysterious and sexy.

“But why?” Derek asks his uncle to elaborate.

“Well, that's exactly what we need to figure out. And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing”.

“Peachy, just god damn peachy.” I say done with this whole thing already. 

“We are going to the Hale House,” Peter says.

As we walked towards the parking lot, I could feel eyes on me from behind. I didn’t turn around though. When we reached the exit I started walking near my car, when I felt Scott stop a few steps behind me. I turn around to look at him.

“Well aren’t you gonna come? I am driving!” I tell him.

“I think you should go home” Scott tells me and I look at him with disbelief. “I will go with Derek,” he continues.

“Oh, so I am supposed to let you get in the car with the guy who turned you and tried to kill you and the guy who slashed his own uncles throat out? I am not crazy yet. ” I tell him seriously and am kind of angry. Derek looks at me mad, or offended I can’t really tell and Peter just looks uninterested.

“Zoe--” Scott tries to plead.

“No, puppy eyes don’t work on me. I am the one who teached you that look.'' I cut him off. “Now get in the car and let’s go”. Then I unlock my jeep and hop in, which is kind of a challenge since I am short and the stupid thing is 10 times the size of me.

“Do you need directions?” Derek asked me when Scott got in the car with me.

“No, I am good. I know where the infamous Hale  house is,” I replied and with that my car roared into life and I backed out of my parking space. “Don’t get left behind Sourwolf”. I saw Issac try to hold back a chuckle and even Peter let out a small smirk slip out of his hard façade.

As we walked into the Hale house ( Derek got his ego bruised ‘cause I beat him here) Scott was looking at his,

“Oh. Oh they found Stiles.” Scott said relieved.

“I told you I looked everywhere,” Derek said to Peter who walked towards the stairs.

“You didn’t look here”, Peter says and crunches at the beginning of the stairs and takes something from underneath a step.

“What is that? Α book?” Derek asks/

“No, it’s a laptop. What century are you living in” Peter replied with sarcasm. Derek rolls his eyes at him. “A few days after I got out of the come, I transferred everything that we had. Fortunately, the Argents aren’t the only ones that keep records.” Peter says. He got up and walked towards a table. Suddenly Scott's cell phone rings.

“Hey, Mom, I can’t talk right now.” Scott answers the phone. “What's wrong?” he asked. After a few seconds he hangs up the phone and announces that we have to go to the hospital. “ Isaac, Zoe, we have to go to the hospital.”

“I don’t think I should come with. I haven’t seen mom yet and I don’t think we should reunite over a dead body” I say to him. “ Take my car, I’ll stay here to see if I can help” I look at him as I extend my hand to give him the car keys. “See you soon, be careful.”

As Scott and Isaac practically ran out of the burned down house, I look at the older werewolves in front of me. Derek just looks at me, as Peter has already started working on getting information for the kanima. 

It’s been maybe 30 minutes since we were all staring at the laptop screen, I was standing leaning over Peter's right shoulder and Derek was just standing by the left.

“Oh my god, what is that?” I look at the screen. 

“Call Scott.” Peter says. I was still staring at the screen leaning closer to it and brushing Peter’s shoulder in the process. Ignoring that, I hear Derek talking in the background.

“Okay, look, I think I found something,” Peter says. “ Looks like what you are seeing from Jackson its just the Kanima’s Beta shape.” he continues.

“Well, meaning what? It can turn into something bigger?” Derek asks, also leaning over.

“Bigger and Badder.” Peter replies with worry in his tone.

“He is going to turn into that? That thing has wings.” I exclaim. 

“I can see that sweetheart.” Peter says to me but not sarcastically, but with fear in his voice.

“Scott bring him to us.” Derek says into the phone.

“What is that? Right there?”  I point towards the screen where there is a play button.

“Look, somebody made an animation of it. Maybe it’s less frightening if we--” Peter taps the mouse and a screeching sound comes out of the speakers. The tree of us jump back and Peter closes the laptop quickly. “No not at all. We should probably meet him halfway”

All of us ran towards the door and suddenly I ran into Peter’s back. “For fuck’s sake Cranky Pants” I curse under my breath.

“We need Lydia.” Peter says.

“There is no time for--” Derek starts

“That's the problem. We are rushing. We are moving too fast. And while everybody knows that a moving target is harder to hit, here we are, racing right into Gerard’s crosshair.” Peter says.

“If i get the chance to kill Jackson, I’m taking it.” Derek says and turns back around. 

I freeze in my spot, shocked that I am about to participate in the murder of a teenage boy- kanima or not. Peter sees it and grabs my hand rushing behind Derek.

We stop behind an abandoned building, Derek and Peter get out of the car and I follow.

“You guys stay here. I will go meet Scott and Isaac. Peter you will know when to come out” Derek says.

“Whoa, hey, wait a min--” I was caught off by Derek already running in all fours, like a dog I guess. “Well, fun meeting you Cranky Pants, but I am going to go to my brother now.” As I turn to walk away, Peter grabs my arm, really hard may I add, and turns me towards him.

“What are you doing? You can’t go out there. When Jackson will wake up he will go on a killing spree.” Peter whisper yells.

“Well, you already went on a killing spree once, what if you get off your rockets again and I will be your first victim.” I whisper yell back at him.  

“Zoe-”

“Bye Peter!!” I say as I look him in the eyes and tear my arm from his grasp. I could see that he was a little angry, but excuse me that I wasn’t gonna stay with somebody that tried to kill my brother less than a year ago. When I cached up with Scott and the others, they were already in the abandoned building. I could hear Peter close behind me. 

“-- wouldn’t let a rapid dog live.” A middle age man explained to the three werewolves. I was about to walk into the building another voice broke the silence.

“Of course not” an old man said. That’s when Peter grabbed me and pushed me beside the door. I knew it wasn’t the time to argue. I could feel the tension in the air. Peter and I peek around the corner although he tried to hide the view from me the best he could. “Anything that dangerous. That out of control... Is better off dead.” The old man said.

Right when Derek went to slash Jackson stomach, Jackson’s claw dug in his chest. I felt like I was going to vomit and I turned myself so I wouldn’t see what’s about to happen. From the side of my eye I could see Peter getting angry and his claws expanding. I took deep breaths trying to calm myself and I look towards Peter. 

“Kill them all” I heard shouting and I almost fainted. I got down to the ground and pulled my knees close to my chest, trying to make my self as small as possible when we heard the screeching of tires and a loud bang. I heard the voice of Lydia yelling Jackson name and I slowly stood up. After a couple of seconds Peter jumped out and pushed his claws in Jackson back and Derek in his stomach. When Lydia was on the floor besides Jackson body I make my way towards my brother and Stiles.

I was looking toward the couple with tears in my eyes as I stood beside Stiles. Derek was looking on with a sad expression on his face and Isaac too. 

“Where is Gerard?” Allison asked and the middle aged man answered that he can’t be far. When Lydia turned towards us Stiles started towards her but was stopped by the sounds of claws dragging on the concrete. All heads turned to the dead boy in front of Stiles jeep to see his wounds starting to close and Jackson getting up slowly. My eyes widened and turned my eyes towards the older werewolf here hoping that’s there is an explanation for this but all he did was too looking on with a shocked expression. 

Stiles started to tear up and moved forward but stopped beside Scott for a few minutes the two boys were looking at each other when Stiles looked down and said “He scratched my Jeep.” With hurt in his voice.

“Stiles...” I moved towards him following behind in the Jeep. He got in the driving seat and  I got on after him. He started driving and didn’t say a word. “Stiles... are you okay?” I speak softly as if i was going to scare him. I didn’t get a reply back...

“Stiles, let’s go at my place, have a sleepover like old times.” I said and he turned towards the route for Scott’s and mine’s house. When we got there my mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway, she must work late night shifts. I will see her in the morning. 

We go up to my room and I give Stiles some of my brothers clothes as I too take some for pajamas, because my suitcase is in my car and right now I really don’t know where my car is. After I was my face in the bathroom, I go to my room seeing Stiles in my bed already. I creep towards him and get in the bed beside him. I hug him from behind when he starts to sob quietly.

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay, Stiles” I whisper sweet nothing to his ear until he fells asleep, me following close behind.

A/N: The sibling love is real between Stiles and Zoe!!!!

Tag list: @wil2space​ @iclosetgeek​

NPCs about Seeds

Full script of Far Cry 5 (except cutscenes)

* What were those Seed brothers like? Can't imagine there's anything like a healthy sibling rivalry going on there. * John's the baby of the Seed family. His brothers turn a blind eye to his more sadistic indulgences. * Joseph and John show why it's hard to have a family business. Money and blood mix weird. Even when you're not tryin' to be a messiah.   * When you escaped the bunker... John didn't say it... but you could see it in his face. Failure. Things got worse from there... Like he was trying to make up for something. Prove to his brother he could... * Kim and I used to throw these weekend BBs. Open invite. All you had to do was bring something. If you can believe it, the whole Seed family came once. They brang watery mac and cheese. I shoulda knew they were monsters when they did that. * John's on edge 'cause his brother-Father is getting' cranky. What a fucked up sibling relationship those two got. * Maybe John will go crying to his "father". I wanna see Joseph give John a spanking. * Joseph's pissed the hell off. I hear John's sweating like a piggy. * Word's out - Joseph's had it with John. That little punk is backed into a corner now. * Good thing for us John and Jacob haven't sorted out their brotherly nonsense. I mean if we're lucky, they'll just take each other down. If not, well, I'm going to keep some grenades around with John's name on 'em, eh? It's comin' to a head man.     * Says somethin' that Joseph didn't save his brother. Family really doesn't mean shit to these people. * Wonder what Daddy Seed is feelin' right now. Oh. Shit. What if he WANTED John dead? Fuck man, I can't think about the big game. We did it here. We kicked ass. That's gotta matter. Okay that’s what I'm telling myself.  Yeah, that’s it. * I'm just sayin': If I was Joseph and I had the ability to see into future occurrences, I woulda warned my boy John that he was gon' get murdered... and made some good bets. * I'm sure it's only a matter of time before Joseph tries to spin John's death to his own advantage. * John Seed never had the Father's full confidence, what I heard. But the Joseph loves little sister Faith, and gave her everything her twisted heart desired. * Jacob always tried to look out for his little brother. Imagine what he's gonna do when he finds out you killed him.

* John was always the runt of the Seed family. I'm not surprised that you were able to get him. But I gotta warn you, Jacob's a whole lot meaner than his little brother. * Joseph adopted Faith into their family. She's going to be madder'n a wet hen that you killed her brother John. * John liked to throw his weight around, tryin' to prove how strong he was. Jacob knows he's strong. His actions are more controlled, and he's a lot scarier for it. John was always super emotional, but Jacob's buttons won't be so easy to push. * All this could have been avoided if only a mid-level cable channel gave the Seed family the reality show they deserved. * You know, if any of these Seeds ran for office, they'd win in a landslide. Mind control charisma just oozes off of them. * Come to think of it, the Seeds work just like a political office. You got Joseph, the mayor, and John, Jacob and Faith as his city councilors. It's no wonder they forced me and my people out of office - they already knew how to play the game! * Each of the Seeds has their own bunker. They call them “Gates”. * Know how I sniffed out Eden's Gate's bullshit early on?  Only the Seeds were allowed to be angry, everybody else had to be calm--even though we all had our asses in that church because we were mad at the same shit too. But now everybody gets to be angry, 'cause it's a weapon pointin' where the Seeds want it. Protect the project. Transparent motherfuckers.

John

Resistance

* John's always been obsessed with the people in Fall's End. And with Mary May in particular. * Deep down, I think John wants to die. That man has scars that run deep. * John's got a particular ritual he sticks to. You get marked with a video, then you get dunked in the water. When John wants you found, he doesn't stop. Ever. * Nowadays, if you're caught huntin’, John Seed'll have ya' killed. * John's got people getting baptized all across the valley. In rivers, creeks, hell, even in puddles. * John scrawls a fucking tattoo on your chest, then flays you the fuck alive. He nails it to a wall. * If the peggies wanted a heap of food, why didn't they drive a ways to the wholesale club and take that over? Everythin' would be canned and ready for them instead of still in the ground. You can tell John Seed never had to raise a kid.   * The cult takes people and then sorts out where they go. Whoever John doesn't keep, he sends to Jacob. Or Faith. * John really puts the dick in dictator. The fucker just loves calling and leaving answering machine messages, too. * John's always wearing a key around his neck. He calls it the key to paradise. I don't wanna know what it unlocks. * I'm pretty sure the family that used to own this farm is long gone. John Seed made an offer. They refused. That's that. * This fertilizer company was bought by John Seed a long time ago. They ran it as a legit business. * This one guy, Les Doverspike. House is northwest. He thought he could prepare for everything... Din't count on... JOHN SEED'S LAWYERING SUPER POWERS! In the blink of an eye, Eden's Gate owned Les' land, bunker, arm, leg, dingleberries, ....EVERYTHING! * I've heard some pretty brutal stories about what happens when John wants you to confess. * The peggies had to have planned all this way ahead of time - they're harvestin' at record speed. I guess they had little meetings... John probably hunkered over his map gettin' a hard-on for the sound of his own voice. Hm... now there's a thought... * The thing that always bugs me about John Seed is, who goes to a lawyer that’s tatted up more than a gangbanger? * You're attractin' a lot of attention, especially from John Seed. John's paying special attention to you. * John wants you real bad. Have you considered maybe he's in some kinda love with you? He oughta killed you like two or three times already but he's playin' cat and mouse. Just sayin', if you find yourself alone with him maybe a good long somethin-or-other could save our necks. * Man, that John, he sure does have a hard on for you. So I'm thinking, you guys should probably just fuck and uh get it over with. * I bet you John gives the best spankin's. Sorry I know that's messed up. What can I say, he brings it outta me. I'm just sayin' maybe we don't kill John is all. Seems a waste of a perfectly good set of buns. * Before you, John never lost his cool. You're driving John literally crazy. * I drank with Joey Hudson back in the day. She doesn't take shit from anyone. John's gonna eat her alive. * I know how these things go, man. Deputy, you better keep skeleton keys and wire cutters and a swiss army knife and anythin' that'll get you outta a hogtie on you at all times, because John is gonna truss you up like a dinner turkey real soon. * Always thought there was somethin' kinda twisted about John. * John the Baptist is an amoral predator, end of story. * John Seed's not gettin' what he wants, so he's pitchin' a fit. * Keep an ear out for John's fucken' plane. He loves buzzin' around in that hunk of shit. * I've known men like John Seed before. Real charismatic. They'll sell ya poison and convince ya it's a health tonic. He'd fit in real nice in Washington... * I had one conversation with John Seed and I knew! I knew... He masks his words as guidance, but deep down there is a selfishness that could only come from pure evil. * John Seed's a piece of shit. When news spread that I was expecting, that scumbag spread rumors that HE was the biological father of my baby. I don't know if he was trying to create a wedge between me and Nick or if he was just doing it to laugh at us. * I hear John Seed was a lawyer or something. Used the rules to buy up stuff in the Holland Valley. The cult must have been running damage control already, because think of what a story that'd make. Unless we're already all tapped out of giving a fuck about the shitty economy and its parasites. Huh. Yeah. He's same old, actually. Same fucking old. * I remember the first time John Seed set foot in this bar. I'm wiping down counters and Ma's countin' the till when I hear her bark, 'What the fuck do you want?' I look up and he's standin' in the doorway. Eyein' me like I'm a meal. Some people 'round here said give the Seed's a chance. I knew they were bad news from the start. * Eden's Gate took this town right from under us. They started buying up all the land, forcing business to shut down and foreclosing on homes.... My parents and me fought back, but John wanted this bar. Told 'em he'd have to pry it from our cold dead hands. So, the cult paid off the county and made it illegal to transport alcohol. We fought back with lawyers, but those leeches bled us dry, too. * Whenever there's a neighbor in need, everybody around here pitches in. A couple days after we told some people I was pregnant, we got all this secondhand baby shit from everybody. John Seed stole all of it the next day. * Heard Pastor Jerome had you saving people from being kidnapped. John Seed did that to me. The fucker made me think he was going to torture me, too. Had me wait in a room for half a day thinking he was going to do it. All that fucker did was give me one of those ink jobs. It was messed up. * John Seed is just a man. He seeks glory and riches. He immersed himself in a sea of self-aggrandizement. He pounds pulpits. He professes principals he neither believes nor practices. He stokes fear. But he is just a man. * Before you came along, John Seed kidnapped me. He has his way of getting a person to say things. It's not about my words. It's about what's in his head. When he was done, I was beaten, toed in the woods, and left to die. * A long time ago, in peaceful times, I asked John Seed what was driving him. He gave me so many answers. All of them lies. * John Seed is a cruel soul who can't be reasoned with. He enjoys making people suffer. * John and the Peggies are taking everything and everyone that ain't nailed down. Even then they just come with crowbars. * After you're marked for baptism and dunked in the fucking river, John drags you to his bunker. God save us from whatever he does in there. * There must be a reason John almost drowns people in the baptisms. It's a power play but there's more to it. * If John really wanted to, he could wipe Fall's End off the map. He's toying with the people there, like a sadistic cat. * John's got a singular mind. Dug up from a serial killer's grave, but still, singular. * There's something really wrong with John. I don't have a name for it but you can see it in that creepy smile of his. * When I first saw him on the cult's videos, John seemed pretty harmless. But when I met him in person, he made the hairs on my neck stand up. * John bought up all the businesses 'round here and promised us jobs but the only people who got work were cultists. * When John asks you for somethin', he's not really askin'. He'll get what he wants from you one way or another. * John wants us all to say yes, but I think he actually really likes it when they say no. Gives him an excuse to get mean. * Anyone who doesn't confess to John gets killed and put on display as a warning to others. It's inhuman. * John doesn't just mark people with a sin, but their houses too. You can see his calling cards all over the valley. * I got a package from John Seed the other day. // What was inside it? // A note that said I was favored and that if I admitted to my sin, I'd be cleansed. * What does John Seed do exactly...? // He messes with your head. Asks you questions. Makes you say shit you don't want to be saying. I... I really don't want to talk about it. * John was right, we all do have one sin that tends to run our life. In a weird way maybe he did give us a second chance. * My old house was a piece of shit. It would creak at night, so bad I thought for sure some boogie man was coming to get me every night growing up. // Heh, aw, that's cute. // Yeah. John gutted and burned it to a crisp last week. * Okay, I need to lighten the mood. This is unbearable. // Oh Lord. // John Seed is so uptight, he takes a ruler to bed to see how long he sleeps. // I'm not in the mood. // John Seed is so uptight, he fell down a coal shaft and found a diamond in his ass a week later. // Okay that's pretty good. * You seen that John guy? Most aggressive grin I ever seen on a human being. Like a chimpanzee before it bites ya. // God what a creep. // I hate to think what kinda life he's come from. // Who gives a shit? He's evil. // What makes a guy that evil though? // It doesn't matter. There are loads of people out there with troubled pasts but they manage not to run an apocalypse murder cult. * Not like John was the peak of sanity before, but he's going straight up coo-coo bananas with all you're doin'. * Sounds like Broseph's mad! Ouuuu, family probs! John's like that little brother who gets held down and farted on, and then curls into a ball and cries. * One thing about John -- the more you ruffle his feathers, the angrier he gets. He can't deal with embarrassment; being made to look bad. He'll start sending out search parties to grab people like us, so we gotta stay frosty. * John's lustin' for a dogfight with you, huh. I bet that kid jerked it to Top Gun or something and now it's the only way he can get a stiffie, is in a dogfight. If you have to kick the bucket I hope that's one of your last thoughts, its a good one. * John's playin' a strange game with you. Dunno what's worse, that sometimes he seems to want you dead, or sometimes he seems to want you alive. * John's no better than his brother's dog, and we all know what needs doin' to a mad dog. * John's huntin' you like an animal.  He catches you, you're probably gonna join his other trophies on his wall. * Hey dep, I just wanna say I'm sorry, I heard John's got a partner of yours It's gotta be scary, you know. Probably heard about how John cuts people up and knows all these pressure points and can make you feel pain beyond anything you ever imagined. Anyways don't think about that. I'm sure... I'm sure she's fine. She'll be alright. * Was John dead behind the eyes when you met him? It's not my imagination, there's no soul back there. * I heard there's no spare key for the bunker prison. Just one for John. Control freak. * John Seed, what a fuckin' self-absorbed dick, huh? You just KNOW he jerks off in the mirror, and marvels at his fuckin' facial expressions. * That's John Seed's Ranch. I heard he loved hiding in that castle of his. * John had this place built just for him. Even got a hangar for his fucken' planes. * Look at this place. John's got the worst case of younger sibling syndrome I ever seen. * John's such a neat freak, it's inhuman. * Ugh. John Seed's temple to himself. Fucker's got a tennis court. I ain't never seen anybody play. Just another way he's a hypocrite. * I know everyone's got a bunker out here, but John's is ridiculous. * John's taste in home decor is... awful. * John's been stealin' the planes from all over the Valley. He keeps the best ones at the airstrip next to his ranch. * Of all the Seeds, I think I understood John the least. Inferiority complex, maybe? But he was a lawyer, he could have gone out and, I don't know, been a Wall Street megalomaniac. I guess economic murder isn't as satisfying as direct murder. * John made tattoos look real bad man, I'm glad he's six feet under. You gotta respect the ink. He didn't even learn a proper letterin' or font techniques or nothing, man. No way I'd have even trusted him to touch up my tramp stamp. * With John gone, Jacob will have a harder time building up his army. But he's already got a strong force at the ready.

Peggies

* John Seed's a funny guy. But not 'ha-ha' funny. * Dang, John's bunker is so luxurious. There's parts of this bunker that only John can access. * Deputy Hudson is one of John's "special projects". Every time John leaves here, he's got a big smile on his face. * John's got the only key to the deeper parts of the bunker. We really oughtta make a copy of John's key. What if he loses it? * John knows the human heart. He's been through a lot. It's why I trust him. * I wonder if John's place will survive the Collapse? * I could get in trouble for saying this, but it smells funny in John's house. * Haven't seen John here in a long time. He's super busy. * I knew John loved planes, but I didn't know he also loved boats. I bet John's boat costs more than my old house. * I've never seen Brother John on a boat, but I know he likes to get wet. * You think John fishes? * We need to keep this place tidy. You know how John gets with his baptisms. * Bet we're guardin' John's unreleased films. * I hope Brother John takes me for a plane ride someday. * John keeps all of his favorite things stashed in the hangar. * John wants the word Yes plastered all over this place. Gotta attract new brothers and sisters. * Taking this scrap metal is good forward thinking. John's left nothing to chance. He's a smart man. * Bet John'll be a king after the collapse. * If you're marked, John believes you can be saved. I didn't want to admit my sin at first, but John showed me how to accept it gracefully. * Feels weird turning those people into Angels. I mean, they worked in the store here with us. They cooperated. // Sure, they cooperated. But they were still sinners. There's no going back at a certain point, you know? John said that this was the only way to save them. * I know it's John's will, but...I don't like killing dogs. * John's made catchin' that deputy our top priority. Wonder why John wants the deputy alive. * That deputy's fixin' to get taken into John's special room. * John's relentless, that deputy don't stand a chance. * John's gettin' awful mad. I pity anyone who has to deal with him face to face. * I don't know what's goin' on in John's head, but it's embarrassing. * I thought John had control of things, but lately it feels like he's got no idea what he's doin'. * John's got that look in his eye, I almost feel bad for the people of Fall's End. * John will make everyone atone, even if it kills him. * John was right, they never saw us comin'. * John's so smart. Burnin' what we can't take, so people know they need us, spirit and body. * Last I heard from John, he was real angry. Never knew he had that amount of righteous wrath in him. * Pray you never see John lose his cool. // He never does. // He has though. Some sinner a while back had words with 'im. I couldn't hear exactly, but I heard 'em say the Father's name - I never seen John go so red so fast. // What'd he do? // Well he gets in his plane and wipes the sinner's property off the goddamned map. He rains fire on'em. They're scurryin' everywhere, screamin'. Like a magnifying glass on an anthill. * The Seeds lost a good brother in John. * Maybe John wasn't part of the plan? Maybe this is still what the voice told Joseph? * John's faith wavered, but mine's never been stronger. * I'll miss John's pep talks. * John did so much for the project. He can never be replaced. * John proved his devotion in blood. How can we do any less? * John was always larger than life, it felt like he was immortal.

Joseph

Resistance

* Joseph doesn't like it when his family goes off-book. * I know this is an unpopular opinion, but what if Joseph's right about the end of the world? * That's the first place Joseph ever built. Back when they pretended to be good. Joseph used to preach here. We could have saved us some trouble if we had just set fire to it years ago. * Joseph Seed and his whole family are like the politicians who ran this country into the ground. They sell ya hope and change and all these people buy into it thinking it's gonna be different this time. It ain't. Might as well be buyin' magic beans. * These people in Eden's Gate have been led astray. Joseph Seed claims he loves everyone. Wants them to know the truth.  The truth is he preaches vengeance and sows lies. But the words of an evil man ring louder in the minds of the weak... * You know what really gets me? Cult leaders are usually always in it for the money. Just like a pyramid scheme. Joseph ain't like that. I keep tryin' to break this guy down into what he wants from people. If it ain't money, and it ain't sex, what the hell is it? * Joseph's a charismatic son of a bitch. I mean, you've heard him. The pitch. The tempo. The way the words roll off his gentle lips. His mannerisms. I mean he's been speech trained, probably more than any politician I've ever seen. That's how you know he's a government guy. * I know the people of this valley. They're good, hard workin' people. But in bad times, people get scared, start lookin' for someone to blame. Joseph Seed fed on that fear. Told folk the end of the world was coming. Lot of 'em believed him. Truth be told... way things are now? I sometimes wonder if he's right. Folks felt abandoned, grew weary, they needed our help. And we didn't listen, but Joseph Seed did. Joseph Seed wooed people. He told them EXACTLY what they wanted to hear. With those falsehoods, lies, his poison. It's driven a lot of good folks away from the righteous path. * I knew Joseph Seed was bad business when he wormed his way in here a few years back. I imagine the fucking mainstream media would paint us as two sides of the same coin, because they're either lazy or corrupt or both... But to me, it's simple: I'm willing to sacrifice everything for my family, while Joseph Seed wants to burn down the world for his. * Y'know, I had a dream last night that involved me, a bed, whips and chains, and Joseph Seed. Suffice to say there were a lot of conflicting emotions and sensations... * Did you have a vision? Faith dosed me with bliss, and I saw the Father come to me, personally, and tell me terrible things. * I have a lot of pity for Faith. Joseph is the true monster, manipulating that young woman into a weapon. * Who the heck is Faith, y'know? Joseph treats her both like his daughter and his sister. How much does she know? How influential is she? It's all twisted together. * I wonder how many other secret bunkers there are in the county? Joseph procured a whole missile silo and no one saw! * Faith came to Hope County to detox. Like tourism of hillbilly country for rehab. But Joseph took a shine to her and she was reborn. Hell, her real name ain't even Faith, but something rich, like Riley or Rachel. * Joseph believes in Faith. He's entrusted her with all manner of heinous activity out here. We need to take her out. * I can't see what kind of method to the madness Eden's Gate has goin' on. Three heralds of the Collapse? What are they even doin'? // They got a system. Faith sows, John reaps, Jacob... // Steps on your neck? // Deals in belief, I guess. // Nah, that's Joseph's job. He's the charismatic populist motherfucker. Jacob just wants to cull people. * Joseph's just a nobody from nowhere. How'd he get this many people behind him? * There was a time no western religious leader would be caught dead with a goddamned man-bun. Fuck I miss those days. Listen, I get that he's runnin' this big old cult and all but if you're gonna run a big old cult you gotta look the part! Long robe that's a weird color, like puce or something, stringy moustache, head shaved bald like a baby. Not like some kind of lovechild between a hipster and a country singer. * Joseph Seed's family is gone. He's gonna be vulnerable and running on emotion. He won't be thinkin' straight. If we're putting this to a vote, I'd say we close this chapter for good, as soon as possible.

Peggies

* The father's takin' a personal interest in those deputies now... Maybe his visions told him somethin'.   * Joseph said that deputy is special. I wonder what he meant by that. * Despite everything they've done to us, I know Joseph would still forgive them. * We have to love the sinners. It's what Joseph would want. * It's been too long since I've seen our Father's face. * Joseph is a gifted songwriter. You haven't lived until you've heard Joseph sing this live. * I heard that the Father got the idea for the Judges in a vision. * Jacob might teach us to shoot, but Joseph guides our aim. * President Seed has a nice ring to it. Wonder if Joseph has political aspirations? * I see why Joseph liked this county. Plenty of silos for what we need to store. * Everyone knows Joseph will not tolerate idle hands.   * The Father keeps all the best stuff for his Chosen. Leaves us the scraps. * After the collapse, we won't hear the Father on the radio anymore. * Joseph's disappointed in us, I can tell. We gotta do better. * I hope the Father doesn't take this out on us. * I can't imagine how Joseph feels now, with his brother gone.   * With Jacob gone the Father has to have a backup plan for us. He has to. * Our Father was supposed to save us. Joseph wouldn't ever abandon us, would he? * Joseph will know what to do. I just have to find out where he's hidin'.

Jacob

Resistance

* We're in Jacob's territory now. Know how I know? Wildlife is scarce. I'm not one for hunting but this area in particular used to be home to quite a few species. They've either been driven away or taken in for experiments. It's sad. * Jacob Seed's in charge out here. He's ex-military, he's a combat veteran, and he's a psycho. * Faith was Joseph's favorite, but Jacob is his toughest soldier, bar none. * Jacob's got this Chair. He straps people in and breaks them down until their souls are gone. Then he controls their mind. Don't end up in that chair. * I know Jacob's the bad guy and all, but every bad guy thinks they're this misunderstood hero, right? Has anyone ever tried to just, you know, take him for coffee and talk to him? * Strippin' people of their mind and freewill to build an army for The Father, that ain't right. I still can't believe Jacob and Joseph are brothers. * The mind is the most dangerous weapon and Jacob knows that all too well. No one was really prepared for this. * I've seen him up close once and I'll tell ya' Jacob Seed is one scary motherfucker. * Jacob had one thing right. Things are only goin' to get worse and you gotta be ready for it. * I had a dream once that Jacob took me on a hunt. We shot some deer and he asked me to skin them. As I was cutting them open they changed... it wasn't deer. I... I don't think it was a dream. * Whatever you do, don't listen to the music. That's how Jacob gets you. * One of the first places Jacob took over is the old Veteran's Hospital. No one thought much of it at the time. * Careful. Jacob likes to play mind games with ya. * This was an animal sanctuary until Jacob took it over. Looks like he's got some freaky deaky shit goin' on. Jake-n-Bake Seed really had his fingers up in everything up here. * Jacob's completely insane. He's not even trying to hide what he's doing anymore. * Heard that Jacob has been doin' some weird stuff with animals over here... and not just wolves this time. * Jacob's been putting people in cages. Keepin' them there with no food or water for weeks!  Almost better if they just killed you. * Eli worked on Jacob's special bunkers, did you know that? Turns out they didn't get along. Who would've thought? * No one is immune to Jacob's fucked up conversion. Once they hit you with that you ain't ever the same. * Jacob, he's knows everything that I'm thinking. He's got the key to my mind and he twists... and twists... and twists. * Jacob... his experiments... he takes us... owns us, speaks to us. He hears us. Jacob... he's in control. He controls everything. * Jacob knows how to get into your head. Twists things around so you don't know what's right anymore. * If Jacob can't find a use for you in his army, you become target practice for troops. * Be careful out there. Friends might not be friends anymore after Jacob's done with them. * I bet the Peggies got an armory here, too. I can't believe how Jacob got them so organized. * Jacob's using everything he learned in the military and twisting it to suit the needs of Eden's Gate. Son of a bitch is a poor excuse for a soldier if you ask me. As long as he's alive my Pops will be rolling in his grave, all bitter and mad. * Have to say, you've ticked Jacob off something fierce. * You wanna bet that Jacob had that three-wolf moon poster as a kid? I bet he was a cub scout, too. Now he's getting his badge for people-skinning and brainwashing. * I'm seeing a lot more choppers in the air. Looks like Jacob's using them to move troops and supplies. * You know, I was dumb enough to work for Jacob a few years back. Who you think built him all those Peggie bunkers? You think I saw any of this comin'? Hell no... * Jacob's new recruits gotta kill someone they care about, just to prove their loyalty. That's messed up on so many levels. * Jacob will be pied that you and the Cougars freed the Henbane River. He'll need a new source of soldiers. * Jacob sees himself as beyond the other so-called Heralds. He views his work as the most important, and that the others' purpose was to support him. * Jacob will break every bone in your body to convert you. He lives for pain. * Jacob would happily sacrifice everyone and everything in Hope County to feed Joseph's Collapse. He doesn't care about Faith. * Between John, Faith, and Jacob, I'd say our mind control freak is the worst. He makes people kill their own family. His own mind's twisted. He's a damn maniac. * I hear Jacob's looking everywhere for you. * You gotta save us from all this darkness. All this death. Jacob's losing it and he's out hunting down more people. He's gonna do anything for Joseph's plan to work. * Cult's got the wrong idea 'bout sacrifices. My neighbor killed his old man 'cause Jacob said so. For fuck's sake, you don't do that. * Jacob's gone nuts 'cause he lost a lot of his precious, mindless soldiers. I'd say it sucks even more to see our own teammates turned against us. * Jacob's pissed. That's new. He's always been the crazy type, but I'm afraid of what he'll come up with next. Stay sharp. * Using music to control people is so in bad taste, but Jacob's song pick, that's gotta say something about him. * How much do we know about this Jacob fella? He seems strong. Got a good setup going on... We ought to take some photographs of him or somethin'. Preferably shirtless... Y'know, for intelligence purposes. Know your enemy. * If Jacob he had an experienced woman in his life, this shit would not be happenin'. I'll take one for the team if it comes to that. Just don't tell Xander I said that. He'll get jealous. * I knew Jacob was trouble as soon as he showed up. I mean, did you see his face? It's all burned and twisted like his heart. * Jacob's got training grounds all over the place. I've seen them out there, shooting anything that moves. * I can almost understand why people follow Jacob. He's knows what he's doin', that's for sure. Mind you he's also a fucken' psychopath kind of a deal breaker for me. * Honestly, Jacob scares the shit outta me, even more than the Father. I've seen Jacob up close, I've looked him in the eyes they're empty, not a single shred of humanity anywhere. * Jacob's one sick fuck. Nailing up bodies? Burning people alive? That's just messed up. * You know what? I think Jacob's scared of Eli. That's why he's tried so hard to get him. * Jacob must be getting desperate and crazy. More troops out here than ever. * Jacob's plan worked. I tried to warn them. I told them not to go back. Jacob's going to win. He always wins. * Jacob was the big, mean, brute of the Seed clan. * Jacob was an example of how a vet can go bad without any help. Still glad he's dead of course.

Peggies

* Hope Jacob doesn't have another surprise inspection. Last one didn't go so hot. * Jacob asks for sacrifices from us all.  I gave up my son just so I could understand the Father's pain. * Jacob can turn these animals into weapons for the Father, I've seen him do it. * Jacob calls those wolves of his Judges, 'cause that's what they do. If you're not worthy, they tear you to shreds. * Jacob takes us, molds us and lifts us up to realize our potential. Just like this Judge. Once, it was just a simple wolf. Then it heard the voice of the Father. Now look at it. Stronger, faster... a killer. That's what Jacob does, he makes us better than we were, because only the very best of us will pass through Eden's Gate and on to salvation. * Jacob has asked us to find more recruits for the Project. We have to make them see the light... by force if necessary. * Jacob taught me how to bring a boar down will one killshot. Now I just apply the same logic to sinners. Easy. * Trust nobody, that's what Jacob told us. * Last time I was here Jacob himself complimented me on my shootin'. * Jacob will whip the strong ones into shape. The rest of 'em won't survive training. Jacob sure puts you through your paces here. It's how he makes us strong. * Jacob only wants the strongest of any creature. * Some of the converts have a hard time losing their old notions, but Jacob has a way of getting them to see the light. * If you've ever been in Jacob's presence you know just how powerful he really is. * There is no way anyone would dare stand up to Jacob. They'd be dead in a second. * Jacob's got this county locked down. There's no way they're gonna take him out. * Jacob knows what he's doin'. If he says he's got this bastard covered, I believe him. You know Jacob. He's not gonna give up. * I hear Jacob is furious. We have to try harder. We can't fail the Father. * Jacob's not dead. There's no way. He's too strong to die. * The sacrifice of Jacob must be part of the Father's great plan; we must trust in him. * The guy who killed Jacob. He fucken' cheated. You know Jacob. There's no way he would've lost in a straight up fight. Can't do anything for Jacob, but we can make sure Pratt pays for letting that bastard get away. * Do you think this the father knew about all this? // Of course. It's all part of his plan. // Even losing Jacob? // Do you doubt the Father's visions? // No! Of course not.... it's just... the guys... they have questions.... // Questions? Now's not the time for questions! It's time for action! Do you want to die a sinner? // No! Or course not! // Then get back to your post. The Father needs us now, more than ever! * So what the hell are we going to do now? // What do you mean? // What do I mean? Jacob's dead! That's a pretty big deal, if you ask me. // We still have the Father. It's his plan after all. // Sure, but he had Jacob and the others to help. He can't do it all himself. // That's why we're here. We have to step up, do whatever is asked of us. We can't give up, not now. // Yeah, you're right. Especially with what's coming. // Exactly. Get back to your post, this isn't over yet.

Pratt

* Jacob's caught himself a Deputy. I think it's Pratt. Poor bastard, he's not gonna last a day in there. * Deputy Pratt always came off as a bit of a douchebag, but that doesn't mean he deserves what Jacob's doin' to him. * I'd sure hate to be that Deputy Pratt right now. Jacob's gonna rip him to pieces. He tried to arrest his brother for God sake. * Pratt's days are numbered. One of these days Jacob's gonna have him nailed up on some billboard or something just like the others. * I keep thinking about Pratt, and what Jacob's doin' to him. That poor man's brain's gonna be totally fucked. * Can only imagine what it's like to be left in a cage with nothing to eat for days. God, do you think that's what they're doing to that Deputy of yours? Poor bastard. * I don't think that Deputy's gonna live much longer. I hear Jacob's furious and you can be sure who he's gonna take it out on. * Next time you meet your friend Pratt, be careful. Jacob does things... to your mind... he might not be the same person you remember. Don't say I didn't warn you. * Can you fuckin' believe that guy? // Who? // The Deputy. Pratt. He was wanderin' around behind the cages. // What the fuck was he doin' there? // Who the hell knows. Jacob's probably got him off doing some shit. // Yeah, he's lucky to be able to put two words together after what Jacob did to him! // Seriously. Sometimes I think it's a mistake to put too much trust in these converts. You should come willing to the light, or be struck down. * I.. I was told to feed the Judges but I didn't know where their food was. // Jesus, Pratt. Does nothing stick in that brain of yours? Over there, where it's always kept. // Right! Th..thanks Phil! It won't happen again! // It better not. * I just want go out and hunt down the bastard that killed Jacob and beat them to death.//Don't worry. They'll be here soon enough. We've got their buddy Pratt down here. Pretty sure we're next on the list.//Aren't you worried? They were strong enough to take on Jacob...// Fuck 'em. With the number of guards we got here? They'd be crazy to try to take us on. * Good thing Pratt's out man. He was lookin' like a hipster in a bullfight man. * There's not much of the old Deputy Pratt left, Jacob made sure of that. Almost would've been better that he'd died in there.       * Yeah, the Deputy might be free, but I won't say he's okay. No one is okay after they've been through the trials. No one. * Jacob sure did a number on Pratt. Not sure there's much of him left in there. * It's gonna take a while for Deputy Pratt to recover from this... if he ever does.

I’m back with another ask: May I have a headcanon for Teru with an s/o who at first sees him as just a normal guy who gets cranky - in their perspective- when he doesn’t get enough sleep (he exorcists supernaturals every night according to the manga), so they prepare healthy meals for him, but Teru falls for them? Thank you so much! :)

Pairing: Teru x reader

unless docs is lying to me i think this is the 20th request i’ve done :00

---

- Their first meeting was not the best.

- The resident school prince was not feeling so princely at all that day

- after a long night of exorcising spirits on top of the training he had already done, two hours of homework, three hours of paperwork for the student council, and dinner (only if you squinted)

- he was feeling drained, to say the least

- so after a full day of maintaining his Prince Charming role

- and he came into the student council

- he was expecting to relax

- not the new transfer student, who he had forgotten he’d agreed to show around the council at least two weeks ago

- (Y/n) (L/n)

- and they refused to back down or reschedule

- so, yes, he was a little curt while walking them around. Showing them the basis of what they did.

- he almost wanted to shove them onto Akane and go take a nap. And their insistent questions weren’t helping his migraine either.

- they seemed to want to know about every little thing and one question always turned into ten more

- "Do you ever shut up?"

- despite his frustrations and mountain of issues

- he did NOT mean to say that out loud.

- he honestly expected them to cry. He almost wanted to cry. Maybe his own need for tears was mostly exhaustion but he did feel horrible the instant he said it.

- until he hears a weird crinkly noise

- they’re holding out a juice box to him

- "Let’s take a break."

- Teru almost faints on the spot at the words.

- the poor boy can't even remember the last time he heard the word break

- after his snapping incident, they sat on the waiting couch. He drank the juice box. Talked a little. Then continued on with the tour.

- ...

- well, that’s what he wants to say he did

- no, what really happened was:

- he drank the juice box,,

- and then immediately passed out

- however, when Akane woke him up three hours later, at the ripe time of 5 pm,,,

- he was surprised to find himself laying quite comfortably on the couch, now with a pillow and a blanket.

- "You should’ve been nicer to (L/n)-senpai. They would’ve been great to work with."

- Akane gestures to the president's desk, "Look at all the work they did. They’ve probably done more than we have in two weeks."

- just like Akane said

- his desk was suddenly a delight to look at!

- everything put in the right place, places Teru didn’t even know they belonged in

- they even organized the once towering stack of paperwork he had, listed with sticky notes by due date, listing what could wait until another day, what was what, what was most important...

- not to mention the magic they’d dusted the rest of the student council room with

- it was heaven

- The next day Teru made it his mission to hunt the transfer down.

- which was surprisingly easy.

- turns out they had almost every class together.

- even more surprisingly,

- they actually agreed to becoming his assistant, on the student council.

- at first, they don’t talk too much. Strictly business.

- Plus (L/n) always looks so focused when they get busy. He never wants to interrupt them.

- he quickly finds himself very envious of them.

- Teru usually wasn’t one for jealousy but they made things look so easy.

- from ordering their schedule, his schedule, doing their homework, filing the mountains of paperwork, you name it

- he was sure anything he threw at them they could handle with ease, they never even seemed to trip up.

- And they always look so alive despite their calm exterior. They never look stressed or agitated. Tired. They do so much and they always wear such a peaceful look.

- "Minamoto-san, I can take care of the rest of this. Why don’t you go take a nap?"

- the first time he heard them say this he thought he was going to kneel over and die any second

- why. why would they offer that

- was he dying

- why?

- "Oh- uhm. That’s not-"

- "I’m not asking, Minamoto-san."

- he found that he didn’t need to be asked Anyways. Teru was snoozing on the wait couch almost seconds later.

- he wouldn’t say it’s exactly a habit...

- but when (L/n) smiles at him and tells him to go rest...

- he just can’t say no...

- especially when it’s ALWAYS the best sleep he gets.

- sleeping during club time is a new bad habit he never thought he’d have but one he just can’t kick under the watchful eyes of (L/n)

- the longer (Y/n) works under Teru the more they learn his routines

- sarcastic? Dehydrated.

- snappy? Hungry.

- glaring? Nap time.

- it was almost like managing a two year old, except the two year old is very tall. very handsome. And also very much their boss

- (Y/n) would never tell him, they found the situation quite humorous

- everyone always fanned over the older minamoto like he was royalty. A god among mortals.

- but one look and they could read that boy like a book.

- lack of sleep (probably from too much work)

- too much piled on his plate (poor management skills)

- frequent skipping of meals (also poor management skills)

- (Y/n) has never heard of a prince who struggled so much to take care of himself

- though, they could admit he was handsome like a prince. And quite nice when he was feeling better

- normally (Y/n) was harsher with the advice they gave their friends on getting their shit together

- but...

- they’d been rather soft on Minamoto ever since they met him.

- they weren’t sure why, but something about him tugged on their heart strings.

- plus...

- it was kind of fun taking care of someone else for once

- so, it was not very long before (Y/n) started bringing him lunch

- it was around the same time they found out Teru worked in the student council room during his lunch

- they put a stop to this real quick

- working? During lunch?

- that was like the biggest no no ever!

- and Minamoto couldn’t seem to quite grasp this when they tried to explain

- so they instead turned to distracting the president with food

- they had to look into more healthy lunches to make up for the boy. Which was... interesting

- all they knew when they first started cooking for him was that he needed protein for energy...

- the more they looked into the matter, the more it made them realize just how much effort they were putting into this

- which embarrassed them

- it was nowhere near enough to stop them though

- the first lunch they gave him was scarfed down in less than five minutes (a massive boost to their ego, not that they’d ever say that)

- Teru has had a lot of cooking. And logically... he knows Kou’s good is better than (Y/n)’s

- ...

- but there’s just something about their food that he enjoys more than anything

- their homemade lunches become his new favorite pick me up

- it didn’t matter what kind of thoughts were tangling in his head. the second he saw (L/n) holding a new wrapped bento was the same second he was the happiest man on earth.

- and between the lunches, the help in delegating his work and the council, the naps...

- Teru is feeling better than ever!

- he feels refreshed and he’s happy to admit (Y/n) has helped him so much!

- "Don’t rub it in," Akane huffs, "Some of us are still single, president."

- those were the words that made him realize

- realize that (l/n) was not just an assistant to him

- or a friend

- because Akane was what a friend was like

- a jerk. rude to him. vaguely tolerable sometimes.

- that’s what he thought of the boy

- but (L/n)

- (L/n) was an angel. they were cute. kind. amazing. he wanted them by his side at all times.

- that’s what he thought of them.

- ...

- which he quickly realized was not very platonic

- but what akane said to him haunts him now

- Teru was very single

- but was (L/n)...?

- ...

- he tries to bring the question up subtly during one of their lunches together in the council room

- "Boyfriend...?"

- they smile

- "What? Are you tired of my constant doting?"

- NO

- Teru wasn’t sure he could go back to functioning the way he did before they came along

- "I guess I could find another guy to baby."

- they meet his eyes, a teasing glint in theirs

- "If that’s what you really want."

- baby?

- no, he wouldn’t say they were babying him...

- ...

- ok maybe a little

- but

- "Now that you mention it..."

- "I guess I do finally have the space in my schedule for a boyfriend."

- knowing (L/n), even if they didn’t have the time, they could easily make space in their schedule for anything...

- "Depends.”

- they don’t look too pleased with this answer, but don’t mention it

- He leans forward to brush their hair out of their face, smiling

- "Do you think I have room in my schedule for you?"

- they smile back at him

- then swat his hand away

- "no. you don’t have room for anything."

- "Sure I do. I have the perfect place for you.”

- he opens his arms up to them, despite the heat fighting to cloud his face

- ...

- 5 minutes later their council room lunch time turned into council room nap time (snuggling included), something that would become a very common occurrence in their newfound relationship

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 5

<- Chapter 4 | Chapter 6 ->

Summary: You get a call. Dr. Chilton’s recovery has taken a turn for the worse, and he might not survive. 

CW: hospitals, medical procedures, angst

1,583 words

Fifteen days. Seven surgeries. Seventeen blood transfusions.

You rushed to his hospital room straight after work, not even stopping at home to change or get something to eat. After the call you’d gotten, you were too nauseous to eat, anyway.

Glowing orange heat lamps hung over his bed, like the ones they use for hatchling chicks at the farm when they’re too young to regulate their own temperature. He had all but vanished under a thick pile of blankets.

You remembered how much of a baby he could be in the winter when his feet were cold. How he’d make you shriek by tucking his icy extremities under your warm pajamas, and how you’d squirm and swear at him and laugh until you finally settled back against his chest. His hands were always freezing, but his body was like a steam engine pumping out heat. Under the blankets with him, trapping each other’s glowing warmth between your entwined bodies, the coldest nights were always so cozy.

There was nothing cozy about this.

Frederick’s temperature kept dropping despite the doctors’ efforts to stabilize it, and it had dipped dangerously low. He was barely moving. It tore up your heart to see him so helpless. If his temperature didn’t come up soon, he could die.

You knew that. The rational part of your brain knew that he wasn’t out of danger yet, that this wasn’t a surprise. He told you he needed to write that article right away because he might not have much time left. But you didn’t think it would really happen—that he could fade so fast.

“Hey, Frederick… I’m here,” you said softly, sitting beside him. There was no indication he was aware of you being in the room. The only signs of consciousness were feeble, rasping, wet moans.

He coughed weakly under the pile of white sheets.

They had already increased his antibiotics regimen at the first warning signs, but his cough was developing into a respiratory infection, and getting worse. All the smoke and water he’d inhaled and the tubes forced down his throat were taking their toll on top of everything else collectively beating his immune system into submission. He was so sick.

You wanted to crawl under the covers, wrap yourself around him, and keep him warm. He could slip his icy fingertips under your shirt, and you wouldn’t complain.

All you could do was sit beside him, talking to him about your day, and hope that, if he could hear you, your voice was comforting. That he even wanted your company. You listened to the monitors, reassured by their continued steady beeps, terrified they might suddenly stutter and fall, and tried not to cry.

You hated being so helpless.

***

Sixteen days.

For the second time, you walked into the hospital doors in the morning to find he was gone. Over night, his condition went critical. The infection had turned into full-blown pneumonia. He was still alive, thank god, but he was intubated again, and put on a ventilator with paralytic drugs keeping him unconscious.

He was, effectively, in a coma.

Every time you thought he was getting better, he slipped away again. Two days ago he was fine. He was dictating notes and being the cranky asshole you loved. Now a doctor had to thread endoscopic instruments down into his lungs to clear the secretions, because he couldn’t even cough.

A nurse gently patted your shoulder to get your attention. You weren’t sure how long they’d been standing there.

“I’m sorry to have to ask this, but do you know if your fiance has any family, anyone who might like a chance to say goodbye?” Your face drained of color and the nurse quickly worked to reassure you, “He may still recover. Nobody here is giving up, but…”

But his chances weren’t good.

“I don’t know. I… I can try to call his mother, but...” For someone you were about to marry, you didn’t know much about Frederick’s family. All you knew was that he had a sister who died a long time ago, his parents were egregiously wealthy, and they almost never spoke. His mother sent a card, which had earned nothing but hostile silence from Frederick. That was all.

He had always been lonely, your Dr. Chilton. Before you, anyway. He was charming, but an expert at keeping people at arm’s length. Desperate for connection, but always looking for it in the wrong places. You still weren’t sure how you’d manage to slip past his defenses. But his family wasn’t coming.

You were the only one by his bedside, waiting to see if he woke up. Alone in your terror that you might never hear his voice again.

***

Twenty-five days. Eight surgeries. Eighteen blood transfusions.

Chilton was out for over a week. Days crept by as you tortured yourself reading statistics like “pneumonia acquired in the hospital can be fatal as often as 33 percent of the time,” and “pneumonia increases mortality rate in burn patients by 25 percent.”

You were a mess at work, sobbing in the bathroom until they told you to go home. But you couldn’t stand being in that giant, empty house without him.

You had dinner with your old boss, Jack Crawford, to take your mind off things. The last time you saw him you screamed your throat raw, but he had always been a friend and mentor, and right now he was the one person who understood what you were going through.

He talked about Bella, and how hard it is to watch a loved one fading away. About the darkness he failed to see in Will Graham—skirting just shy of accepting responsibility for Frederick’s fate. You distinctly did not take back calling him negligent and incompetent. Still, despite everything, you knew Frederick held him in high regard. It was what got him in so much trouble. You encouraged Crawford to visit when Frederick was feeling better. If he got better.

Then dinner was over as quickly as it began, and you were alone again.

Every day that a ventilator kept him breathing, you wondered if that was the day you were going to get the phone call. You couldn’t bear it. You lived in the hospital waiting room, making meals out of vending machine Pop Tarts and the latest scraps of information the nurses could give you.

Surgery was risky on a patient already in critical condition, but the doctors decided to perform a bronchoscopy to drain a lung abscess. After that, his pneumonia began to improve. A few more days, and he was off ventilation, and in the hyperbaric chamber.

The moment you heard he was awake, you sprang up from your chair the waiting area (swayed with dizziness for a moment) and shambled to the oxygen therapy room.

***

“You look terrible,” he joked. His voice was quiet and hoarse, but you laughed a little too hard, sniffing and rubbing your eyes as your body shook. It was good to see a week unconscious had restored his cheery mood.

Ducking and weaving your head, you tried to get a good look at your reflection in the curved glass. When you caught a glimpse, the depth of dark circles made you recoil back from yourself.

“I couldn’t go home until I knew you were OK,” you explained. “I guess I could use a shower. And some sleep.”

Frederick observed you sympathetically. He was still bandaged head to toe, and what bits of skin did show were as red and inflamed as ever. He hummed in agreement. “All this beauty rest has done wonders for me.”

You laughed again, and it brought a smile to his cheeks and a sparkle of humor to his one good eye. At least he still entertained you.

“It is flattering that you would destroy yourself on my behalf, but you really ought to go home and take care of yourself.” He rolled his eyes upward cheekily, “I cannot have my adoring public discover I am marrying such a slob.”

Your heart missed a beat at the mention of marriage.

Leaning close until your forehead bumped the clear barrier, you pressed your palm to the glass. He lifted his hand off the bed, reaching toward yours, but could only make it a few trembling inches before he winced, and his arm fell back down, limp. He swore. Then he gave a self-deprecating chuckle to hide the frustrated wetness building in his eyes.

“Really,” he said without malice. “You should go home.”

“I can’t. You just woke up.”

“How long has it been since you slept?”

A few self-conscious mumbles were all you managed in response. He huffed knowingly.

“I promise not to die. You need rest.”

Your head did feel heavy, and it was difficult to keep your eyelids from drooping. “But it’s so empty. The house is so empty without you,” you sobbed.

“I know,” he said quietly, after a pause. He hated to see you like this, hated that you were suffering because of him.

“Just a few more minutes? I want to stay with you for a little while.”

“That would be nice.” His voice welled with such sincerity your heart broke. “Thank you.”

Soon, you thought. Soon you’d be taking him home with you, and your lives could be normal again.

S3A - E8

I’m realizing just how damn far behind I am on working on season 3, but I don’t wanna skip any episodes of the rewatch, so let’s get to it! Double time, double time!

Content warnings for discussion of cannibalism.

Forewarning, this one is a doozy, so be prepared to Read More:

Lesgo!:

First thing’s first, Derek has experience with those awful sound thingies? Can you imagine how freaked he must’ve been seeing Chris bring those out when they were tracking Boyd and Erica?

Also, Chris Argent has been hunting Derek one way or another since he was a child. Even BEFORE Kate. Why the hell do we have a Derek & Chris broness in the later seasons? This kind of shit doesn’t just go away. I can’t believe I forgot about it.

I love how awkward sweet bby Derek is trying to run through the trees and tripping on branches everywhere. It’s honestly so much more realistic for a teenager than just the crazy cgi stuff. Also, since we know Derek is comfortable in the woods, it really gives you a hint as to how truly messed up he is from fear right now. He’s off balance in a dozen ways.

DEREK HAS BEEN WATCHING PEOPLE DIE IN FRONT OF HIM SINCE HE WAS 15. I’m gonna CRY. If I wanna hurt myself even More, you could argue that the Random Beta (RB) got shot bc he stopped to talk to Derek. So...guilty minds would assume Derek has been watching people die because of him since 15. I hate everything.

PETER comin’ in clutch. Also, hilarious that they use that arrow catching move so much.

I almost like how they tried to make Gerard look younger by just having him wear a douchey leather jacket instead of the serious grandpa one he wears in S2. He swaggers over to the body of RB, and it’s hilarious.

Okay, what is this bullshit about “Bring them back alive, we go by the code?” If you were going by the code then you wouldn’t be fucking hunting them AT ALL. They’re innocent! Why the fuck are you ‘bringing them back’ in the first place? Chris, you piece of shit. This is supposed to demonstrate that you’ve always been a stickler for the code, but all it does is emphasize how little that code actually means. “We hunt those who hunt us.” Fuck off, you hunt anything you deem ‘dangerous’ and find excuses to kill them so you can feel righteous.

Gonna casually note that RB was shot in the Throat with an arrow, but bc of makeup necessities they moved the arrow down to his chest when he’s shown on the ground. It’s funny. :)

It’s seriously so hard to hate Peter, do the writers realize that? Like, yes, he did horrible shit and I’m not denying that, but when you show him running into the hunter-filled woods to save his nephew’s life at 24 years old, then hiding with him in a cellar for two fucking days when he could probably have escaped on his own, it’s hard to see him as a heartless bastard.

I’m almost afraid to find out why Cora knows the details. Can you imagine? She would’ve been, what, 9-10? Her big brother and uncle both go missing for two days after a hunt and she had to stay at home waiting for someone to say they’d found their bodies. God, the lives of the Hales are so fucked up.

The rain is really making the mood here.

I gotta say, I’m confused about this initial Cora-Stiles interaction. He goes on about everyone who’s died or nearly died, but then Cora assumes he wants Derek to do something about the deaths, and Stiles agrees? Except that Derek currently fits the COD that all the other sacrifices have hit. Missing for about two days. Everything Stiles has said implies that he’s worried Derek is also dead. I don’t get why they go with ‘I’m worried about the missing man that I’ve been helping for the last four months because I blame him for the Alphas even coming to town”?

One thing they got on point here is just how disgusting they made Gerard. The slime and the spitting and ugh *shudders* it’s just so gross.

I’m also...I think intrigued is the right word--that they shoved this whole story into the episode without ever addressing the fact that Derek IS missing and they should go looking for him or something. It starts with Stiles asking where the hell he is, but then everything else is about this past moment. Talk about going off on a tangent. I mean, I don’t blame them, but if I shoved this much character background into one chapter people would call me out for the infodump that it is.

Which is all this episode is. Info-dumped exposition. Here’s how werewolves were made. Here’s why Derek’s cranky. Here’s why Duke’s an asshole. Here’s why the Hales are ‘special’

Again, I don’t blame them. It’s just...a lot.

Just a tiny thing: Why do they both roll up their sleeves when Scott only has to touch Gerard’s hand?

It is also very hard to believe that either Allison or Scott are remotely good people when they’re both lying to everyone about Gerard’s existence.

*finger guns, bc now i have to use the tag* I think this is the longest I’ve ever gotten before using it.

Another thing: Why does Gerard make the gross noises like he’s in pain, when we know it doesn’t hurt to get the pain taken away from him? It certainly didn’t hurt that lady in the ER.

I know this is a weird thing to notice, but I find it interesting that Paige is wearing actual makeup. Not just the ‘natural’ look, but eyeshadow that’s visibly dark. *shrug*

Is she Actually playing the cello? The notes Don’t look like they match up with her bowing and fingerings.

HA that music cut in is fucking Hilarious. Derek turns around like he’s in a teen rom-com, with that casual “I never stop smiling all the way bc I’m the coolest guy around” grin and the music just WHAM. That’s right, Derek Hale used to be a JOCK. He didn’t used to be ‘a lot like Scott.’ He was a lot like JACKSON.

So, this group of cronies Derek has. What is that about? He’s gotta have that posse just like Jackson did in S1? Unnamed people to cackle at his jokes.

Paige’s face, right there? That is the SHIT for me. That’s not hidden attraction, that’s genuinely “What the fuck is my life, why are you so lame?” and I am LIVING for it.

Derek peacocking is also hilarious. Peacocking so hard he (THE WEREWOLF) didn’t notice that she’d left the hall, is even more so.

I hate to tell you this Paige, but THAT is where I could tell you liked him. Giving in to his bullshit offer was the first step, that look on your face when he said, “Hold on” was Blatant “Holy shit, my crush wants to talk to me” but then all you idiots did was make eye contact. Paige, if you’re trying to get the ball, try looking away from those pretty eyes, okay?

Derek, you always go too far. You can see Paige lose interest when she realizes that he’s not actually into Her, he’s into showing off.

OOOF, i guess they weren’t such good friends after all, cus’ they left when Paige did.

I also feel the need to point out Derek is WEARING A CHECKERED SHIRT. *inarticulate screaming* Everyone who makes jokes about him thinking plaid is disgusting owes me five bucks bc he CLEARLY didn’t think checkers/plaid were that bad when he was in high school.

I’ll admit...the instant sorry is like...really good. If they’d had him come in and be More of a dick and then end up together, I’d be a lot more bugged. But his First real introduction to her is an apology.

THEN he goes back to being a dick. But at least this time it’s not about him, he wants to know about Her.

And I LOVE the turnaround! THIS is flirting. THIS is cute teasing. She plays his game Back at him, shows her own skill and forces him to get on her level. Then he weasels out of it, but in a Cute Way.

If there’s one thing that I’m routinely impressed by in TW it’s the scoring. They’re Really good with music to fit the moods and the vibes of the whole episode. For instance, all the transition music in this episode is Cello, bc it’s about Paige.

I hate agreeing with Gerard on Anything, but he makes a good point about the Dark Druid taking and killing someone else right alongside Deaton. Why would she take 4 people when she only needed three? She wouldn’t know that Deaton got a message out or that Scott would save Deaton. Plus the addition of the mountain ash circle is kind of weird, don’t you think?

Yah, I have no clue why your body is producing anything Either. You literally make no sense and you shouldn’t be alive. Period. Bringing you back was a lazy way to have someone who could be a sub-sub plot and hand out exposition and red herrings that are totally useless.

HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT GERARD? You weren’t There when Deucalion found out he could still see with his Alpha Eyes (Which makes no sense btw, he doesn’t have TWO sets of eyes???) and if you’d interacted with Deuc since then he’d have ripped you to shreds.

SERIOUSLY people, why the FUCK are we getting this information from Gerard when it makes WAY more sense for Deaton to tell them this? He was THERE for the whole thing!

I get that the point of the episode is supposed to be “Unreliable Narrators” (The whole show has an unreliable narrator.) but you had that covered with Peter’s story. You could’ve Instilled TRUST in Deaton by making a contrast and having Deaton TELL THEM THE TRUTH. Show the difference between reliable and unreliable. Gerard doesn’t need to be here!

Stiles, asking the real questions.

AND GETTING THE MOST BULLSHIT ANSWER IN THE UNIVERSE.

Could these writers GET any lazier? Put some fucking effort in and give us some information about Werewolves IN YOUR WEREWOLF TV SHOW.

What the fuck were Paige and Derek into that they knew where an abandoned distillery was when it wasn’t even in TOWN? And you’re telling me they left town every time they wanted to make out? Even worse, are you implying they had SEX in that distillery? And then trying to tell me that none of the fucking Alphas and their packs noticed the smell of Derek and his girlfriend all over the building?

...what...do people seriously not remember being teenagers? What the fuck Peter? In what fucking universe  is “one minute it’s ‘i hate you, don’t talk to me’ the next it’s frantic groping in any dark corner’ remotely accurate to real life?

Teenagers in the majority don’t DO that. I really fucking hate that all teenagers are made out to be like this. Like they’re “run by their hormones” and “everything is sex to you” STOP. Seriously, STOP. Saying shit like that completely negates the fact that Teenagers are Real fucking People. They’re not just buckets of hormones and sweat that need to be shaped into an adult. They’re fucking PEOPLE and reducing them to sex-crazed idiots is lazy and stupid.

Are you ALSO telling me that the hunters dragged RB’s DEad Body to an abandoned building, then strung the corpse up and cut it in half? AND that someone happened to go the abandoned building and found the body and called the cops, or that they MOVEd the two halves somewhere they would be found, Or that They were the ones to call and report the body?

Has teen wolf got even a Single brain cell?

ALSO, what the fuck is this timeline? Derek and Peter went missing for two days after RB was killed, but the packs don’t get together to discuss RB’s death until After Derek has run out of the building with Paige because he could smell blood from RB being hemisected. So, they waited at Least two days before talking to each other about RB’s death? And Derek apparently recovered Instantaneously from his two day nightmare and went right back to macking on his girlfriend and laughing freely the Day he was found? Or did they wait even longer? I’m so fucking confused!

Okay, you tell me that this place is their favorite makeout/groping spot, but they seriously just walk in the door and start kissing in the middle of the room? You guys didn’t bring some blankets and pillows here? You’re gonna stand there the whole time?

WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU MAKING PETER A PERVERT? He was fucking watching his nephew make out with his girlfriend through the wall??? WHat is WRONG with you?

ALSO, Cora was alive and active in Derek’s life at that point. She wasn’t That young. She could easily point out that Peter being Derek’s best friend is total bullshit if it weren’t actually true. Which means Peter is telling the TRUTH here. Hell, she doesn’t call out his heartbeat for lies the entire time, and while they imply at the end of the episode that Really Good Liars can just force their heart to be steady while lying so they don’t get caught, that isn’t a thing for the entire rest of the show. Derek trusts KATE when she says she’s not lying. So the evidence actually points toward Peter telling the TRUTH in this entire episode.

THAT is accurate to teenagers. Using the word “like” and “liking” so many times in a conversation that it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore.

Paige...dude, I’m so torn. Like I’m glad you’re being honest with Derek about your worries, but also it’s a complete dick move to just Assume that he’s gonna bail? To say to his face that you Know he’s leaving you and you’re just waiting for it? Fucking rude.

Ennis...bro...how exactly did your Beta “Accidentally” kill a hunter? How would that happen?

AGAIN WITH THE TIMELINE. If the packs only CAME to beacon hills because of Ennis issue with the hunters, why was RB running through beacon hills when he was killed?

Also, side note: Where are all of these werewolves staying? Are they territorial so they like, all claimed different hotels to take over? Or do they not mind, and THAT’S why the Hale house is so big for such a small family? Because they had a ton of guest rooms for packs that visited to get that sweet, sweet Hale Wisdom?

I firmly believe that werewolves are clothing-optional people. Talia straight shifts into a naked human form in front of over a dozen other wolves.

Also, where the hell is the Hale pack here? Some random chick comes up and gives Talia a robe, but that person is standing with Deuc’s pack. So....what?

I’m so curious about the formation the wolves make when they hear Talia coming. Everybody backs away, except Deucalion. And they do this weird focus on his face as he watches her come in. And her eye contact is JUST with him.

OH GROSS. DID DEUC HAVE A THING FOR DEREK’S MOM????

I will admit that watching things with subtitles sometimes ruins the surprise. There’s that little pause before “I’m just a deputy” like it was supposed to be shocking to the audience, but the subtitle on Amazon Prime just Pops up right away and it kind of ruins the effect.

Here we go! The one piece of concrete information on “Packs” and “pack members” that we’re given in the whole fucking show. Word for Word. “Losing a member of your pack isn’t like losing family, it’s like you lose a limb.”

That is....severe. Now imagine that your entire family IS your pack. And losing almost every one of them. Is it any wonder that Cora, Peter, and Derek are so messed up? That they’re so dark and wounded looking?

I s2g sometimes Peter literally just sounds like he’s a self-insert for the writers. He explains shit that the writer’s are showing Really Badly as if to wave away the fact that the Ennis flashback is pretty much Completely unnecessary. “You just don’t understand my artistic genius, it’s never just a single moment, it’s a confluence of events. I have to show you all these random flashbacks because you need to understand why Derek is soaked in MANPAIN all the time. Which is totally relevant to the current plot bc....bc....bc ART (and also Tyler Hoechlin was busy so we could only get one shot of him for the entire episode)”

That is just the cutest shit oh my god. Derek listens to Paige’s music while he’s in class and doing homework. THAT is love, you realize? He doesn’t just deal with her dedication to her music, he loves it.

THat little wince when he says “Are you sure about that?” Paige knows he’s gonna screw with her.

THAT IS A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP. He gives her space! She likes studying during lunch so he Leaves her Alone. I LIKE IT.

What do you mean “Laura told you about the packs being here.” Derek KNOWS they’re here because he watched RB DIE IN THE WOODS. Seriously, I”M SO CONFUSED.

FUN FACT (that I might’ve already shared) Oak wood was liked by the Celts because it was really sturdy and hardy and bore food, but it wasn’t their favorite type of wood! Rowan was the favorite, and Irish pagan practitioners used to sleep in rowan trees so they could have prophetic dreams. After that, it was Hazelwood. :P

I...do not enjoy when they bring up the Celtic Druids. *Scuttles to get my textbook bc this is my nerd shit*

“We’re in a Nemeton” This is the correct wording, actually! A “Nemeton” isn’t a thing, it’s a “sacred meeting place” as Chris calls it. Go chris! Nemeton refers to the entire grove/area around the main tree.

I can’t speak to whether they chose a ‘Large, older tree in a grove” but it does make sense bc if we’re talking about Oaks they were a symbol of food and safety (acorns were a staple to Celtic diets) so choosing an older tree would not only look more impressive, but it would probably bear more acorns for the clan.

“It would represent the center of the world” *Puts on vine voice* THat is NOt Correct! The tree at the center of the Nemeton was called a “crann bethadh” or “Tree of Life” and it was essentially a Totem that marked the center of the tribe’s territory. It was not ‘the center of the world’ it was the center of THEIR world. Their land.

“There was a belief that cutting or harming the tree would cause serious problems for the surrounding villages” Not sure if ‘villages’ is the correct term for the era, but the rest of it sounds like a close mistranslation. See, in Ireland there were raids people would do against other clans where the SOLE PURPOSE was to destroy their crann bethadh, because it was demoralizing. It’s like graffiti-ing the front of a church. But technically, it WAS severely frowned upon to harm the tree in any way.

This is mostly because in most Celtic areas, Oak trees were considered symbols of the “Father of the Sky” or the “God of Thunder.” Of course you don’t wanna piss off Thunder man.

Also, you notice how I’m saying CELTS and not DRUIDS. It’s because DRUID isn’t a cultural label, it’s a SOCIAL CLASS. It’s like saying “The Educated”

Okay, back to the--OH WAIT. Before anyone gets any ideas, the blood on the crann bethadh isn’t human. Estonian Celts smeared animal blood on the tree roots as an assurance for rain and good harvests. This is the same concept as TONS of other religions, including Christianity. (Abraham was supposed to sacrifice his son, Isaac, to God, but God stopped him and had him sacrifice a Ram instead. So, Yes. Christians used to perform animal sacrifices.)

NOW back to the show.

THe fact that gerard doesn’t know this stuff implies that Chris is the nerd of the family.

I LIKE THIS. I hate that I like it bc it’s Gerard, but I LIKE IT. Gerard gets up from his wheelchair. He doesn’t need it All the Time.

I’ve never seen another show that bothered to have a wheelchair user who wasn’t wheelchair-bound, which is stupid because it’s Very Common for people using wheelchairs to not need them all the time.

though it does beg the question of why he’s sitting in a wheelchair when he’s in his own bedroom? Was he going somewhere? Or did he know he wouldn’t have enough chairs and didn’t want Allison or Scott to sit in his chair?

The story of Lycaon, who was considered a savage ruler of Arcadia and Zeus went to his house disguised as a human (this is v common in myth) to find out if he was batshit. Lycaon and his FIFTY SONS (he also had one daughter) wanted to know if the stranger was a human or a mortal, so they fed him human flesh in stew. Zeus flipped shit and blasted the room with thunderbolts, murdering all but one of Lycaon’s sons, and then turned Lycaon into a wolf.

So...this whole ‘myth of lycaon’ is totally fucked up when it didn’t need to be? Like, they didn’t NEED to change it to make it a messed up origin story of wolves. It already was.

There’s three major versions to choose from

Lycaon was a pius man who founded the city of Lycosura on Mount Lycaeus and used a child as a sacrifice to Zeus, thinking it would please him. Zeus flips shit and turns Lycaon into a wolf. FROM THEN ON; at every sacrifice made to zeus a man was transformed into a wolf and if he managed to restrain himself from eating human flesh for 8-9 years, he would be turned human again.

The same story as the first, except Lycaon Knew Zeus was in disguise and the child he fed him was Zeus’ own son, and it was revenge for seducing his only daughter Callisto.

If you want to make it match what you’ve already said about wolves in the show, they could’ve used the last one and it would’ve demonstrated how Ingrained the concept of vendetta/revenge is for wolves.

If you wanted to focus on the Turning Human part and working with Celtic Druids to learn to become werewolves, you could’ve used the second one.

there was no reason to add in the bullshit about Prometheus except as an excuse to make Deucalion look like he picked his name to be an asshole, which he fucking didn’t.

 I’m so sorry about all the classical shit (i’m really not) but I studied it in college and I can’t just let this bullshit stand.

I’ll give them a pass on the ‘the lesser known part’ bc it’s technically plausible for the wolves to have run north to the Celts and beg for help, And the Druids (those who’s education was specifically in magic, not all of them) were known for shapeshifting (though not usually into animals. They did that to Other people, not themselves)

I cannot believe this is so long, i’m so sorry.

But WHY tho, Cora? How is an Emissary supposed to keep you connected to humanity if No ONe KNows Who They Are?? How are they supposed to do their job??

Yeah, well now Deaton is a sour bitch who has a chip on his shoulder against the Hale pack so like...fuck his advice.

I will say though! Pre-fire Deaton doesn’t give me the heebies like post-fire Deaton. He’s much more clear about the advice he’s giving, and it’s actually helpful! He still has a dumb little anecdote/parable about the scorpion and the frog (which...in most circumstances I hate. It doesn’t even match what happens) but he gives Real Advice instead of vague asshole nonsense.

“I’m an Alpha, I never walk alone.” I have an inordinate affection for this line.

Paige is clearly some kinda bad bitch if she thought nothing of going to hang out in the school in the middle of the night with Derek.

Okay, but like...why would he attack Ennis like that if he was the one who asked him to bite Paige? And why is the moment played up “A fifteen-year-old boy against a giant” Derek was literally swatted to the side while Ennis walked out of the building. this wasn’t some big showdown.

If she’d already been bitten, why was Ennis still grabbing at her??

....seriously? Peter is literally right there? And no one noticed?

Again with the “Scott is a genius now” LIsten, bro, why the fuck would Scott know a sanskrit fable? If he Did know a story like that, it would be bc Deaton taught him. In which case he would know the FROG and the scorpion. Come on, guys.

OH MY GOD GERARD DOES IT TOO. GERARD, PETER, AND DEUC all have a CHRONIC case of verbal diarrhea when they’re trying to be intimidating.

I do NOT understand this warehouse scene. It’s a GAS gerard, if you stabbed yourself with some sort of...antidote or whatever it wouldn’t save you from the GAS you’re inhaling. At the very least you would be shouting like everyone else because it HURTS going in.

why did it take so long for Talia to come? It’s implied that Peter left to get her, so why did it take so long? Even PAST peter looks fucked up at seeing that Paige is dying, it’s not like he would wait.

I’ll be real, i get weepy so i’m skipping the actual death. Just know that it hurts me. Severely.

Y’all know how much I hate this ‘innocent life’ bullshit for blue eyes. It’s very True Alpha-y in that it’s impossible to pin down the specifics. What constitutes an ‘innocent life’? What constitutes taking it? With wolf claws? With a gun? What counts and what doesn’t count? Ugh.

Eyyy, so I’m exhausted and this is so long that my computer is fritzing. There are five minutes left and nothing happens in them at all. Just Scott pointing out the heartbeat thing and threatening to kill Gerard (so he’s still fine with murder at this point in time. Good to know). Stiles telling Cora that he doesn’t think Peter was telling the truth (which she would Know if he wasn’t) and that he’s gonna ask Derek about it (which we never got to see). And Deucalion murdering his own Beta (who, tbf, tried to kill him first. Which, again, what the fuck is up with Deaton’s office that wolves are able to rip each other apart in it, but it’s still ‘hard for someone like Scott to cause me any trouble.’ I’m just so confused

Final Thoughts: This episode actually had some interesting stuff in it, which is kind of sad considering there was no PLOT, just Exposition. I look forward to tweezing the bits out that I want and dumping the rest in the garbage where it belongs. Oh, and like I said, the music was on Point.

Inspired by the wonderful OC lore that @charlotte-balfours-garden​ wrote and posted, I decided to finish this piece that’s been sitting in my drafts for months about my own RDR OC, visual references here!

Note: This takes place in canon, Chapter 3, and while everyone calls her Alberta Taylor at this point, it’s not her real name, just something she’s been going by for years because of something in her past. Professionally, she’s a bounty hunter, but has dabbled in other things. 

Read This First

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

Well, at least the one thing today that hasn’t been surprising is Arthur finding Al has dragged a chair over to his tent to read, one leg propped up on the chest at the end of his cot. Sometimes she’ll set up there to get ample shade from the sun, and according to her, the chest is the perfect foot rest height. 

“Afternoon, Arthur,” she greets lazily as she turns the page.

“Miss Taylor. Comfortable?”

“Sure.” She cuts her eyes up at him from under the brim of her hat, seemingly just to give him a greeting glance and smile, but when she spots the shiny new accessory pinned to his vest, her head raises higher. “You steal that off a dead lawman or somethin’?”

And it begins, Arthur thinks with a snort. “No, Dutch—” he waves an arm in the direction he came from, though Dutch has long ago left that area—“got us ingratiated with the local sheriff, so now we’re honorary deputies.”

“Was Sheriff Gray drunk?” 

That’s surprising. They only met the sheriff yesterday, and he’s not sure the full story of their encounter has been relayed to the rest of camp, just the orders not to cause any trouble. “How’d you know his name?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that most likely, it was Hosea. Those two are close. 

She answers with a cavalier shrug before he can say anything. “I’ve been here before. Once. Didn’t stay long.”

Arthur takes the bait she leaves out. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s Lemoyne. I don’t spend very long here if I can help it. But first time I got to Rhodes lookin’ for bounty posters, Sheriff Gray was puking in the bushes. Somehow he managed to get out that they do all the bounty hunting themselves. No reason to go back.”

“Well, that’s pretty much how I found him when I went lookin’ for Dutch and Bill.”

“Figures,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Not that I really care, but where is Bill? Didn’t see him come back with y’all. Still with the Sheriff, ingratiating himself?” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “I didn’t get that impression off him, but I wasn—”

Arthur holds up a hand and shakes his own head with a smirk. “No, no, the Grays around here don’t seem… his type. Matter of fact, I should probably warn Bill to just play it cool—“

“What, drunk, dumb, and ignorant ain’t Bill’s type? What about that guy we saw him chattin’ up at that saloon in Armadillo?”

“That ain’t what I mean,” he snorts.

“I know.” Al flashes a playful smirk. “I’m just messin’.”

“Well, anyway, no, he’s off hidin’ some wagon full o’ moonshine we stole off some bootleggers under the Sheriff’s orders. Hosea’ll know what to do with it.”

“Moonshine?” This seems to pique her interest, again to Arthur’s surprise. “You know who you stole it off of?”

“Yes…” Arthur’s eyebrows knit together. He slowly lumbers over to his table, laying down the deputy badge and watching her carefully. Al’s expression is calm, but it’s a thin enough veneer that he sees the curiosity building by the second. “What’s it to you?”

“Curious.”

“Yeah.”

The book in her lap finally closes. “I used to run with some moonshiners not too long ago.”

“Alberta Taylor. Well, I never took you for a bootlegger.”

She throws an arm over the back of her chair and lets her head fall back, exposing more of her neck. It’s then that Arthur notices she’s not wearing her usual green neckerchief. Or her green jacket. She must be really burning up to be in just her workshirt and jeans. “Not every professional bounty hunter is a staunch upholder of the law, Arthur Morgan,” she says matter-of-factly with a lift of her brow.

“I never said that. Didn’t mean it neither. I mean, look who you fell in with, I know better. I just ain’t seen you drink much moonshine.”

“Sure. Always been more of a beer and tequila woman.”

He plops down on his cot and lights a cigarette. “Then what you doin’ runnin’ with moonshiners?”

“Tell me who you stole the liquor off of first, cowboy.”

Arthur concedes. Al is stubborn. “The Braithwaites. And those fellers that run around here with those yellow bandanas. Sadie and I ran into ‘em a few days ago. Uh—”

“Lemoyne Raiders?” She sneers. “I’d hoped someone had snuffed ‘em out by now. Hijo de putas.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette before answering. “Yeah, that’s them. You’ve had some run-ins with ‘em, huh?”

“Like I said, just the once. Three of them stopped me on my way into Rhodes. Brought ‘em into town, dead, which is when I met Sheriff Gray. They didn’t have any bounties on ‘em, so all I got outta one of his deputies was five dollars. I know they weren’t even worth that much, but he coulda paid me more,” she grumbles. Her light Cuban accent comes out more the lower her voice goes.

“Sounds about right. Least ya got paid somethin’.”

“I guess.” She picks at the spine of her book for a moment. “Wasn’t long after that I met a… moonshiner legend, so to say, through a mutual friend. Though friend seems to be pushing it.”

He gets the sense she’s not fully sour on the “friend,” so his shoulders shake in amusement. 

“He was a lot like Uncle, actually.”

“Lord.” Arthur snickers, smoke billowing out of his mouth. 

“Yeah. Not as lazy. Probably younger, but who knows.”

“I reckon Uncle ain’t as old as he wants folks to think. Besides just bein’ too lazy, it’s probably why he don’t trim his beard.”

Al laughs, rougher than usual until she coughs and clears it up. “Damn humidity.”

“Tell me about it,” Arthur agrees, leaning forward and propping one elbow up on his knee. “So, this… moonshiner legend.”

“Ever heard the name Maggie Fike?”

The name isn’t familiar, but it isn’t unfamiliar either. “Don’t think so,” he settles on. 

“Well, she’s been mostly out this way rather than out where y’all been running around. Revenue Agents caught up to her a couple years back, tried burning her alive. Didn’t work, but gave her a nasty scar and bad eye. Almost puts Marston to shame. Almost,” she adds with a grin as he walks between Arthur and Strauss’ tents.

“Take a look in the mirror, Miss Taylor,” he grumbles back. Then he chucks a cigarette butt at a chuckling Arthur. “You too, Morgan.”

John disappears around the side of the tent as Arthur brushes off the butt. “Cranky cause he ain’t had his midday nap.”

“Pick better material.”

Al chuckles and presses the palm of her hand on her hat, affixing it more securely to her head. “Anyway…”

“Anyway…” Arthur sighs lightly. “You said she survived?”

“Yeah, went into hiding for a while. Somehow got a hold of my ‘friend’, who then asked me for help gettin’ her business back on its feet. Easy work at first. Finding a good location for the shack, gettin’ her some supplies, that stuff.” She waves a hand around. “Most folks don’t pay much mind to a bounty hunter buyin’ supplies in bulk like I was or destroying illegal stills. Sometimes I brought in the other moonshiners to the local town to collect on a bounty. Made for a better cover for what I was really doing.”

“Takin’ out the competition.” Arthur chuckles. 

“Exactly. Then came—”

“What the hell are you two talkin’ about anyway?”

Al puts her hand back on her hat before tipping her head back, almost touching the back of the chair, and looks at John, upside down. Arthur leans forward more to get his own look and the rangy outlaw, who’s circled back around to the other side of his wagon. 

“And what the hell is that?” John asks. He’s looking directly at the badge on Arthur’s table, disgust etched into his features. As if it’s some rotting, maggot infested carcass Arthur’s using for decoration.

Arthur sighs and briefly explains again.

“So this is just another excuse for you to play dress-up, eh? Guess I need to tell Hosea you’re itchin’ to go scammin’ with him again.”

“You do that, it’ll be your pecker in the stew pot next meal.”

Al’s crossed her arms over her chest and is watching them with barely contained amusement. “Playing dress-up? I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you yet, Arthur.”

“And you won’t,” he growls. “Only reason Hosea takes me on those jobs is because he knows I hate it. Just once I’d like him to take Marston instead.”

“You sure about that?” Al studies John as if she’s a talent agent in the big city. “Doesn’t he like to avoid mayhem on those jobs?”

John snorts indignantly. “Yeah, well, I’d like to see you try and follow Hosea’s lead. I swear even he don’t know what he’s doin’ half the time.”

“But it works.” Her eyebrows raise pointedly. 

“But it works,” John concedes. 

“Well, next time you go, let me know. I’d love to watch y’all work.”

“Whatever,” John grumbles as he waves her off and saunters away. Apparently he’s given up on butting into their conversation.

“I ain’t pullin’ that type of job with Hosea again. What we had set up in Blackwater, sure, but not...” Arthur wags a finger in the air, then unfurls the rest of his fingers and waves his hand once before letting it fall back in his lap. “Not that. The girls and Trelawny are much better’n me anyway. Safer that way.”

Al shrugs. “I won’t argue that.”

“So, back to what you was sayin’?” Arthur’s not willing to let the moonshiner story drop. It’s not often she lets down her walls and tells stories of her past that don’t directly involve some bounty she’s nabbed. He knows what happened to her family, but that had been a moment he wasn’t meant to see, and neither of them have ever brought it up again.

“So after we get a shack set up, she gets word of where this old buddy of hers is, go rescue him so he can make our moonshine. Not long after that, her nephew’s gettin’ moved from Sisika, so I go rescue him.”

Arthur pulls the cigarette from his lips and folds his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wagon. “Just you against a bunch of lawmen?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Morgan,” she drawls, lolling her head to the side.

“Suppose I shouldn’t be,” he chuckles.

“No, actually, I had a couple friends with me, cashed in on some favors. I’m not stupid or reckless enough to take on an armed prison transport.”

Arthur just shrugs. “Woulda believed you either way.”

“You’re too trusting,” she remarks. There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, but her eyes sparkle with something else. 

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“Well, we bring them back to the shack, get the business up and running. Enact some revenge on a rival of hers in the meantime, I get to kill the agent who tried to burn her. Spent about a year with them. I didn’t do a lot of the actual running of moonshine, one of those friends who helped me break out Maggie’s nephew, Lem, did most of that. I focused on taking out the competition, clearing out Revenue Agent roadblocks when we were sure we couldn’t sneak past them. The real dirty work. But I didn’t mind, kept me moving, out of the government’s crosshairs enough that I could keep killin’ those damn agents.”

Arthur cocks his head curiously. But she isn’t done talking, so he lets her continue, holding onto his question for now.

“Couple months before I ran into y’all, I told them I’d have to leave. I’d spent so much time in this area, couldn’t… Needed to get out and go back out west. See some old friends, see some open country. They reckoned they’d be fine without me, but threw them the name of another friend I knew’d be able to help them, pick up my slack.”

“So… you think they’re still runnin’ that shine?”

“No reason not to. Never heard anything about her being captured. Got a letter from them while I was in Blackwater, actually. They’re doin’ well.” She gives a fond, reminiscent smile. “That friend is working with Maggie now, too. Dunno how she stands him, but…”

“Good. Since we’re over this way, you plannin’ on seein’ ‘em?”

“They’re north, Roanoke Ridge territory. Might, if I feel safe leavin’ you fools by yourself for more than a week.”

Arthur chuckles and shakes his head. “I reckon we can survive without ya for that long.”

“With all the trouble you been causing lately? I don’t think so, Mr. Morgan.” Al fans herself with her book, smirking at Arthur pointedly.

“I actually got another question for ya,” he diverts.

“Shoot.”

“I been thinkin’ about this since you got here, but now, knowin’ how much you seem to hate the Revenue Agents, how come you’re a bounty hunter, takin’ payouts from the government, but runnin’ with a bunch’a outlaws? After a year of runnin’ shine, that is.”

A simple shrug is her reply, and the pause is so long Arthur isn’t sure she’ll actually give him an explanation, until, “You have your code, I have mine.”

“Huh,” he grunts. They watch each other casually for a long moment, then he asks, “You gonna explain?”

He can see her weigh her options, and eventually she relents. “You know…” Her expression immediately tells him what she means: her past, what happened to her. 

“Yeah,” he offers quietly.

“Well, nobody’s born a seasoned gunslinger. When I first started bounty hunting, I had to take the easier targets. Most big pay days, or the jobs that are good start for those of us that’re green, they’re people who rob banks with a pen, rich people doing rich people crimes. They’re soft, easy, and all it really takes to catch them is knowing the land better and being tougher than city folk. Which ain’t hard at all. So, until I could stand on my own, those were the only kinds I took. Then I started goin’ after the bastards I really wanted to. People like the Johnson Brothers.”

She nearly spits the name. Arthur feels the sting in her soul.

“I never take those soft bounties anymore,” she continues after a deep breath, seeming more like herself again with every word. “Unless I need a break. But it’s been a while since I have.”

“Been a while since you took a bounty at all.”

She must notice the question in his voice. Not judgement, but question. “No. You’ve been kicking up too much fuss. Wouldn’t be smart for me to be seen around town here more than once or twice.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. While it is mostly true, it’s about all he’s going to get out of her, but he knows the real reason why. Even if she won’t admit it to herself. “Got me there, Al.”

“Not hard to do, Arthur.”

simon snow has fucking dragon powers or some shit and this is my goddamn proof

Whilst you people were having a meltdown over Baz and Simon not hashing it out (Simon’s not in a place of understanding his self worth enough for that yet.), I was having a meltdown about Simon Snow The Literal Fucking Dragon. 

Now, this is obviously going to have major spoilers for Wayward Son. I’m going to assume you’ve read it if you’re reading this. I’ve put a lot of thought into this theory and this is a long ass post so I’m putting it under the cut. Now. Let’s go, lesbians!

First and foremost, let’s start with the wings and tail. 

Simon’s wings are established at the very beginning of Wayward Son to represent something. We don’t really get to quite know what that something is until they start referring to Simon’s wings the same way they used to refer to his magic. 

The most direct reference to Simon’s wings symbolizing his magic is in Simon’s section of the prologue at the very end of the book:

“It’s time for me to stop pretending I’m some sort of superhero. I was that-- I really was-- but I’m not anymore. I don’t belong in the same world as sorcerers and vampires. That’s not my story.

Dr. Wellbelove said he could remove the wings. And the tail. Whenever I’m ready. I could go back to school then, or get a job...”

This section directly confirms that yes, these wings are a metaphor for Simon’s magic. They’re all he has left connect him to the world of magic. They’re the only thing still making him feel even remotely on the same level as Baz and Penelope. (This book really was all about the concept of self-worth and how completely lacking it affects not only us but those we love. Phew, talk about a doozy. No wonder we’re all crying.)

Now that we’ve established that Simon’s wings, at the very least, are his one tether to magic, let’s drive the nail into the coffin of the wings and tail being absolutely, 100% symbolic of his magic. 

As I mentioned earlier, the book starts treating the wings exactly the same as it treated his magic. This even starts before Wayward Son. The first mention of Simon’s emotions relating to his wings and tail is in the first book. In the epilogue, in Baz’s section, during the dance scene. 

“His tail whips out of my hand. It tends to slash around when he’s upset.”

This really starts to come out in the last fourth of Wayward when he’s “itching for a fight.”

His wings constantly poke, prod, and generally annoy Baz and Penny because he refuses to put them away. Almost.... like... how his magic..... felt suffocating.... and too much... and he couldn’t push it back... or tamp it down. *cough*

Okay, so that was all pretty basic, boring, base-building stuff, yeah?  Pretty “whatever we get it.” 

Well, here’s where it starts to get fun. 

Let’s talk about Simon’s Mirrors.

Lemme just explain what the hell a mirror is, first. In case we all flunked our high school Lit classes. 

A mirror character is, in simple terms, a character that acts, looks like, or reminds you of one of the main characters. Through these “mirror characters” some important information about the main character is revealed to us subtextually. 

Let’s name our Simon mirrors:

Ebb 

Agatha (she’s being developed as her own character but that’s not stopping her from mirroring our good lad.)

Aunt Fiona (to some extent anyway. she doesn’t really factor here.) 

There might be some minor ones I’m forgetting (I’m not including foils) but these are our main guys. 

I put Ebb on the list first, but let’s start with Agatha, the cranky heroine of our dreams. 

Throughout the whole first book, Agatha is shown to be Simon’s mirror. Them both mooning over Baz in almost the exact same way. (Jesus Christ they’re embarrassing to watch.) The waiting on rooftops, the handkerchief. (Don’t get me started on Simon carrying around Baz’s scarf in Wayward. I’m soft and everything hurts. Our poor, stupid, stupid boys.) It’s not exactly subtle. 

In Carry On, Agatha reveals just how much Simon also resents his fate. He never really expresses it, but Agatha is reflecting to us how he’s feeling. They both get progressively less resigned to the bullshit “Chosen One” fate as the book goes on. They both make it out alive. Maybe everything will be okay. 

But then Rainbow rolls up with a Sex On The Beach and Gucci sunglasses to tell us that “fuck no everything’s not okay.” (She’s right. God, I could go on a rant about how no one ever talks about how you feel when you’ve defeated the villain. When you’ve escaped the dungeon. Hhhhh)

Wayward Son immediately sets Agatha up as even more of a mirror than she was in the first book. We’re shown right away that the two of them are both in a depressed funk. They’re both at “15%” and miserable. These two are echoing each other like NEVER before and I am LIVING for it. 

Like, we even get this amazing bit in Chapter Four:

“That would feel like an answer to... the question of me. Then I could say, ‘Oh, that’s who I am. That’s why I’ve been so confused.’”

They! Are! Struggling!

Now, how does this relate to Simon having literal fucking dragon powers? Good question, thank you for asking. 

In Chapter Fifty-Six, when Pen and Agatha are stuck in the back of Fuckwad Vampire #3′s car, Agatha says this:

“I honestly thought I could walk away from it all-- like magic was a place. Like magic was a person. Or a habit I could break.

When Simon first came to Watford, he couldn’t make his wand work. He could barely cast a spell. He thought they were going to kick him out, that he wasn’t magic enough. 

“You don’t do magic,” Penelope told him. “You are magic.”

I... am magic. 

Whether I like it or not, whether or not I claim it. Whether or not I carry my wand. 

It’s in me, somehow. Blood, water, bone.”

They!! Are!! Both!! Magic!! 

Magic is in them! Magic is with them! They’re made of the stuff! They can’t cut off this part of them, no matter how much they want to. (lmao. talk about good old internalized homophobia. I don’t really have an opinion on what Agatha’s sexuality is, btw. I’m using homophobia as a blanket term because I have no clue what’s up on that front.)

Simon is made of magic. He doesn’t want to remove his wings. Even though he has to hide them. Even though he thinks he’s a Normal now. Like Penny said, “an aeroplane is still an aeroplane even if it’s on the ground.” (I’m not sure that’s verbatim, apologies.)

Simon still has magic. We just can’t see it. He’s made of magic. He is magic. He was literally conceived during a spell. Bitch is as magical as you can get. 

But where is the magic???? Where’d it go???? Hello????

I’m getting there. I promise. First, we need to talk about Ebb. 

Ebb wasn’t only Simon’s weird Aunt figure; she was his mirror. Ebb was what would’ve happened to Simon if he hadn’t rejected the mage at the end of Carry On. Ebb just gave in. She didn’t want to fight anymore, and she figured Shithead The Great knew more than she did. 

God I just fucking hate Mage so much like holy shit. Anyway, anyway. 

Ebb was the strongest magician next to Simon. She didn’t want to fight. She didn’t want to use her magic for any great purpose. She just wanted to be. Agatha even reiterates this in the epilogue of Carry On.

 “Like, they couldn’t just let her be.”

(No, Simon doesn’t miss killing things in Wayward. He misses excitement and having a purpose. He mainly misses having a purpose. Not having one of those fucking sucks.)

What the fuck does Ebb have to do with this? Why can’t I just get to the point?

My point is!

My Point IS!

That goddamn dragon with the sheep was supposed to remind you of Ebb.

So, let’s do the math. If 1=1x1= 1 then...

Ebb = Margaret = Simon

Sure, sure we had Simon screeching that he wasn’t a dragon. But Margaret was immediately like, 

“Not yet.” She pets his wing. “Are kitten. Someday dragon. Someday ferocious.”

Simon smells like a dragon, but also apparently “smells like iron.” Whatever the fuck that means. I mean I guess it means that Baz could still sippy sippy. (Which is gonna happen or I’ll eat my own toe.) 

One more thing: 

“I wanted wings,” he says. “I wanted to fly.”

“Why tail?”

“I wanted to be free!”

Gee, that sure sounds like what Agatha was saying earlier, huh?

YEAH OKAY HE’S HALF DRAGON!! WE’VE ESTABLISHED THAT!!! WHAT THE FUCK AM I ON ABOUT!!!!

Omg thank you for asking. I’m going to blow your mind with my final point. 

The Final Point: The Baz Problem.

Wayward Son is, by all accounts, Baz’s book. It develops everyone beautifully and everyone has an arc, but this book is where Baz gets to shine. 

We found out in this book that vampires are immortal.

This introduced a whole new issue, an issue that surfaces every time immortality is introduced as a possibility for one character but not the rest. 

Someday, Baz will be left alone.

He’ll inevitably outlive everyone he cares about. We all know our poor, beautiful, delicate bastard boy couldn’t take it. How deeply he cares is his most beautiful and wonderful trait, and this could break him. 

I wonder, how long does a dragon live?

Penny talks about the improbability of Simon and Baz in Chapter Three. 

“Star-cross’d lovers. ‘From forth the fatal loins of these two foes.’ The whole shebang.”

Simon’s magic was always described as smoke and fire. The first creature we learn about Simon fighting was a dragon. (Chapter 1, first page of Carry On)

“You’ve slain a dragon, Simon. Surely you can manage a long walk and a few buses.”

 God, I just really hate Bitchface the Mage. Anywho.

Simon. The One Who Came to End Us. Simon. The One To Save Us All. Simon is the dragon and the knight. He’s his own worst enemy. His arc will be completed once he accepts the “dragon” part of himself. It’s poetic as fuck, I must admit. 

Simon has to find love and care for himself, and then this baby dragon will be grown. He’ll be “on top” as Margaret had said. (God, could you imagine all the dragons waking up? How fucking epic would THAT be? Fingers crossed.)

The monster that drains living things and the monster that burns all in its wake. These losers are starcrossed, but they complete each other. Dumbasses. I just love them so much why can’t they get their shit together. 

Simon and Baz’s storylines are utterly intertwined. They’re perfectly matched. Simon might not know it, but their hearts are already tied together; they beat in sync. They’re two stars orbiting each other. And, if we’re all very lucky, maybe they won’t crash. Maybe this story won’t end in flames. 

So, in conclusion, I really really really want Simon to breathe fire. The only other way I could see this twisting is the wings somehow going away and Simon getting a regular-magician amount of magic. That’s kinda lame tho and doesn’t complete his arc correctly. This dumb boy is a dragon now and there’s nothing we can do about it. (EDIT: actually yeah simon’s not gonna lose his wings no way in fuck. check out my meta.)  Also? I would sell my soul to see Simon getting really possessive over really weird objects for his hoard. 

Thank you for sticking with me this far, dear reader. I’ll leave you with this thought: Baz is Donkey and Simon is the dragon from Shrek. 

Check out my other meta on the future of simon and baz’s relationship and how penny and agatha relate 

scarf meta as well check it

Gonna be tagging peeps so this can circulate better. 

@carrybits @neck-mole @watfordwallflower

rendevous 18.6y

summary: chikage shows up at the front door of MANKAI after disappearing from the face of the Earth for 3 years. itaru is not happy.   fandom: a3 pairing: chikage x itaru word count: 3335 tags:  original characters for the sake of plot, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, flashbacks, mentions of death, bad attempts at action, bad attempts at comedy 

chapter 5: thoughts

Itaru wished he did not hurry up.

He wishes that he also did not say yes to his damn boss...

I mean, he guesses he did do it voluntarily, if you can call an impulsive decision fueled by some unseen force something that he did voluntarily. His boss would say otherwise. 

But something about this room is only a little empty, even if it’s filled to the brim with people— and by brim, he means the table is full and there are two extra people (Chikage and Itaru) presenting their dumb pitch about this and that, imports and such, and the sorts. There are only so many ways you can say “Hey! Give us shit and we’ll give you shit and maybe just a little money! Who knows!” but Chikage seems to have found all of them, including the most long winded speech, just to make it look like he’s smart.

Which he is, Itaru isn’t saying he’s necessarily dumb. He is smart.

But even if Chikage had him say that whole spiel about “never knowing unless you try” (which, corny as hell by the way) it would still work out in the end for Itaru, maybe even gaining more respect. Maybe he’ll ask Chikage after the meeting.

Well, if Chikage decides that he likes him today. 

The room is abnormally silent, devoid of any other voice, as the Japanese translator sits there, staring at the man whose English is paced and worded like a damn poem, in awe. Itaru doesn’t expect any less from the hacker, whose stats are basically so high that no one can compare. Except a specific stat that basically everyone knows, but Itaru tries not to think about it. But his voice really does project across the entire room, drawing attention to him, which isn’t very uncharacteristic for him, because he’s heard this before. His voice with a certain cadence to it, hitting every point, and maybe throwing in a couple company buzzwords in there, just to sound a little bit smarter. What the fuck is “synergy?”

He looks slowly around the room, making sure no one is staring at him— which no, there isn’t anyone, thank God, as he takes a look at the surroundings for the 10th time, at the same concrete walls painted with the brightest shade of white and the glass barrier separating them from the main office, covered in layers of white blinds, and the presentation glowing from the flatscreen TV put up in the middle of the room. (which he wishes he could have, but Sakyo still won’t let him put up anything, which makes sense because Itaru definitely could not be trusted with a drill for the life of him.)

The carpet is a bit scratchy underneath his feet, as he slightly grinds his shoe sole into it, the friction of which can slightly be heard across the room, but surprisingly, no one has called it out, maybe out of politeness, or maybe because of Chikage’s still loud, and booming voice across the room. Chikage decided to take the most part of the work back at the hotel room, and Itaru really took the easy part, but it’s fine. Chikage wanted the hard part anyway. It just means that maybe he won’t get the best benefit out of it, which would be perfectly fine. He just came here for the merit. It would look good on his resume too. If he ever decides to get a new job-- which, after this, he should start planning. Once he uses all his vacation days. 

But he doesn’t understand why some eyes are drifting over to him, when Chikage is interesting enough with his injection of larger English words, again, to the amazement of the translator, who wasn’t expecting this. But it does make him look worse to the board of people who heard him slightly stutter when he stumbled across a couple words, but it wasn’t that bad. Right? He tries to affirm himself for a bit, but he knows that it could’ve been better-- then again, a lot of things could’ve been better about his presentation. He wasn’t the most prepared, and maybe that would cost him the deal, which is why he doesn’t understand how and why he was so laid back about everything that was going down with the work, which he decides to blame on Chikage. Rightfully so, as he had occupied his thoughts far too much and put him in some emotional dilemma, if that’s what you could call it, when he keeps sending the most mixed emotions towards Itaru.

There is a time and place to be thinking about these things although, now not being the place, but he still thinks about it anyways, 

“Any questions?” Chikage asks this for the final time, finally wrapping up the presentation that felt like it lasted for a lifetime, which it probably did. Probably. Itaru decides to tune out the rest as Chikage accepts a couple questions, and answers some that go without asking-- which is to be expected from someone who does enough and maybe just a little bit more.

“I actually have a question.”

“Ah, what is it?” Chikage smiles at the old man, the smile seemingly genuine to others, but not to Itaru.

“No, for your partner. I’m not completely clear on the outline of this… plan.” He turns his head to Itaru. “Could you go over the third slide, please?” 

“I… Well… Uhm… Can I say this in Japanese?” Itaru can feel himself tensing up even more. Was I not descriptive enough, I don’t know what I could even go over? “Well, depends what part you’re confused about.” Good non-answer. Could buy you time, he thinks to himself.

The interpreter says the words in English, the man nodding in confirmation. He says some English to the interpreter, and the interpreter parrots it back. “Well, why should we use your company as a means to get our products to Japan? Is there a market in Japan for these things?”

Itaru freezes.

“Well, there is, just look at the slide before that, there’s definitely a market for this stuff, just look at those graphs. Very high.“ Itaru is panicking which Chikage takes notice of as Itaru fidgets a bit with his hands, trying to structure a damn sentence, which he can’t seem to do after that damn question. 

“Well, what my partner is trying to say is that there is a market for this stuff, and currently, as a testing area, we are sure we, as a company, have the best idea on how to release this product, as we believe, and are sure that these specific areas of Japan are in need of these things.”

“Hmm… I see. We will continue this meeting tomorrow. Thank you for your time.” He bows as he gets up, the rest following in suit.

They both speak in unison. “Thank you for your time.” They bow as each exits, Chikage walking over to the briefcase, closing the laptop and packing up the papers into the folders in a very methodical and neat way.

As each one of them gets up and walks to the door, Chikage heads to the middle of the large table, closing the laptop, unplugging the USB and packing everything up into his bag, Itaru following closely behind as the last person leaves. Something about it is intimate though, as if the room got smaller with just the two of them, but still with the same white concrete walls, surrounding them, with the same office lights coating the room in fluorescent light that washes out the little to no color found in the room.

“Sorry.” Itaru blurts out with no thought.

Chikage looks behind him, like Itaru is the weirdest person alive for that singular moment. “Sorry for what?”

“I fucked up.”

“Chigasaki, it wasn’t that bad. You could be better prepared for that, of course, but you tried to deal with it. It’s more effort than I’ve seen you put in before.”

Itaru isn’t insulted, even when most people would have been. He knows he put more effort into this than usual. “Exactly. This was really avoidable. And basic too.”

“And? It already happened, Itaru. No point in dwelling on it.”

“...I guess you’re right.”

Chikage finishes packing everything up quickly. “I know I’m right. Not to say I’m all knowing, but I know this much. It was a good effort. Everything can’t be perfect.” He walks to the door and opens it, standing there for a bit, and looking at Itaru. “Come on. Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m tired.”

Itaru looks at Chikage for a bit, stopping to stare, and his face filled with a hint of confusion. “Okay. Thanks.” Itaru walks out, Chikage following behind, picking up the pace to match the walking speed of Itaru and walk beside him across this oddly large office hallway, complete with simple office decorations and furnishings, passing by a couple filled meeting rooms and empty ones with the lights off, and the sun shining in. He looks at Chikage, who, for some reason, is focused on walking forward, which is kind of weird, but he doesn’t mind. It gives him time to think. 

Chikage was nice to him for some reason today, again, despite how he treated him last night, which was… odd. But maybe he was just having a bad day. He’s had his bad days, and come off cranky. He “hmmm”s in his head, a bit skeptical, as he knows Chikage is never one to let his emotions take over for a bit. That’s just who he is. Or maybe he let his guard down? If anything, he’s just completely confused as they turn the corner and see a more open space with an elevator, which is when Itaru decides to stop looking.

Chikage, surprisingly, did not notice the fact that Itaru’s bright red pink eyes were practically glaring into his soul. Just staring in front of him, deep in thought. He presses the button and waits for a bit till the doors of the elevator open, and 2 people come out, and they both enter simultaneously. Itaru presses the 1st floor button, and clasps his hands together near his waist as waits.

“How have you been feeling?” Itaru breaks the silence to start just a bit of small talk to test the waters. Chikage doesn’t respond, seemingly just staring at the closed elevator doors as they descend to the 2nd floor, seemingly not stopping, or feeling longer than usual. “About the presentation… do you think we’ll get the deal?”

He still doesn’t respond, which puts an end to whatever he was planning to say after. The elevator doors open andr they both walk out, and head to the car.

It’s still quiet between them, with maybe even a static, oppressive air surrounding them, stopping him from talking, and just in general preventing even the simplest conversation between them. He gets into the car in the parking garage quickly, Chikage taking his sweet time to start the car.

It’s quiet in the car till Itaru breaks the silence. “How long will it take to get there?” Still no response. Itaru looks intensely through the front window for some reason, when he doesn’t even need to be paying attention, and his phone is literally just in his pocket, but for some reason he’s rendered completely immobile by the fact Chikage isn’t responding when he shouldn’t be. It’s Chikage. Chikage probably doesn’t care. Definitely does not care. It just doesn’t make sense for him to not even respond with a “hey I’m focused on driving.” Because for some reason, he’s not talking again, or even saying that he needs to shut up because he’s focused on driving, which is also a valid response to him, as he completely understands.

But he doesn’t and he stops thinking about this as soon as Chikage pulls up to the front of the hotel, handing his keys over to the valet out front, and showing them their hotel card, the low murmurs of thank yous vibing across the two, and walking in swiftly, and into the elevator again, out, and into the hotel room.

He slides the card into the slot and opens the handle for Chikage, who walks in briskly, and with a sense of urgency, as he looks at his phone again with a sigh. Itaru goes to the wardrobe to grab clothes to rest in for now until he eventually goes out to get food, because he wants to try the fancier pizzas here. But until Itaru needs something is it quiet. “Hey, can you pass me the remote?” No response, like usual, where now it makes no sense, because he’s just searching things up on his open laptop next to the desk. “Are you gonna talk to me?”

“Why would I talk to you? We’re here on business. We’re just working together. It isn’t business. So I don’t care.” He starts to type slightly more quickly, a change so subtle that even he doesn’t notice, the pounding of the keys getting harder and harder.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Itaru sits up in the bed, looking at Chikage, biting the inside of his mouth so hard that it feels like he might draw blood, the taste of iron coating his tongue. “Listen. I don’t fucking want you to treat me like we’re long time friends if you’re gonna say we’re ‘only here for business.’ You can’t have it both ways, Chikage. Make up your damn mind.”

No response. The silence is deafening.

“I just… want to know.” For some reason he’s on the verge of crying which is stupid, and he shouldn’t be crying, but despite him feeling  it becomes more than a struggle to get the rest out. “I just want to know if we can actually be friends. I don’t want you to give me false hope. I don’t want you to flick some switch in your brain that says that you’re allowed to be nice to me, and then you turn it off so quick as if it never happened.” 

No response. It’s ear piercing now; like if you dropped a speck of dust on the ground you would even be able to hear that, as Itaru gets more and more red, and Chikage’s face stays the same. 

“Okay. I got it.” He gets out of bed quickly. “I understand.” He stomps off to the shower, taking clothes with him and some lotion to the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.” He deadpans, and practically slams the door of the hotel bathroom.

Chikage sighs. 

God, he feels like shit. 

Does he? 

Maybe he doesn’t know himself, but all he knows is that there’s some odd pit in his stomach that probably just hints quite a bit at him feeling like shit. It’s fine. It’s not like he hasn’t been through this before. All he has to do is push through it. It is odd. Considering all the shit he’s done, he doesn’t think he should be feeling bad. He means, he’s killed people, no remorse, just straight up dead, and that was fine. He can hear Itaru in the bathroom seemingly slamming shit on the counter, and dropping the soap with an “ugh.”

The feeling scrapes at his nerves, stretching him thin and fragile, as if he was just an elastic fabric that, of course, is still intact, but is transparent, being stretched far too much. The walls of the hotel feel both confining to him, and a bit too loud. He doesn’t think that loud is the correct word choice, but he thinks that too. But here he is, still typing away at his laptop; nothing coherent of course, but at least it’s something. Not really. It barely distracted him. He runs his hands through his hair, sighing again, and looking out the window that gives him an overview of most of the city, the cars running through the street like little bugs, but the moonlight can barely break through the raucous light of the city. He can still see it though, so he gets up to stretch, even though he doesn’t feel as if it’s necessary. He walks over to the window, looking up at the moon, and then looking down at his feet.

He takes a seat on the bed, for no reason, looking around a bit, before getting up and walking slowly to his chair, some document still wide open on his screen, and the shower somehow still going-- probably in preparation for tomorrow. He still acknowledges that skin care is important somehow, even when Azami isn’t there to drill it into their heads. It’s been three years. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. He shouldn’t be so surprised. Things change. He’s more than well aware of that. But somehow, he still feels stagnant, even with everything. The world has reached a standstill, but that doesn’t matter to him. He doesn’t need to change anymore. Not since… he skips right over that thought, but he knows that he shouldn’t, because it should bear no weight anymore. Seems like everyone else has gotten over it.

Hisoka.

It’s hard to talk about still, for him, and maybe for others. Who knows, when they can visit Hisoka’s grave. He guesses it gives people more closure. But the more he thinks about Itaru and Hisoka, the more he wants to care for him. He means, just being the slightest bit related to him puts people in danger. Maybe he shouldn’t have forced Itaru on this trip. Well, he didn’t. Itaru said “yes” for some unbeknownst reason that confuses him still to this day.

Hisoka.

But even then, the thought still comes to his mind. It felt nice. Felt nice to genuinely care for someone, after leaving them for so long, to protect them and still be able to have them, and be able to hold them after so long. Maybe it’s the situation. Chikage doesn’t want to hurt Itaru. That sentence makes him almost keel over, but he acts normal as the faucet is turned, and the sound of running water suddenly stops, and he can hear the shower curtain, as if every single environmental sound is turned up to max volume.

Hisoka.

He’s dead. That’s the end of that. He’s dead, and he shouldn’t care, and he should have learnt his lesson, because anything-- almost anything would be better than him being here, right now. He should have said no. He should have said no to the mission, and he should have said no to his boss, but he didn’t and now he’s paying the price. Filled with emotional turmoil and hurt. Thinking back, maybe he was just unlucky. Or maybe it was fated. It was fated for them to meet again after being away for so long, so why, why would some higher power put them together. It’s as if the big man upstairs wants him to suffer-- even if he doesn’t exactly believe in them.

Hisoka.

The thought tires him out, and he finally notices that he’s stopped writing things on this report, which he tries to start again, but he doesn’t even know where to gather himself after… after that. He’s still thinking though, which makes himself throw back his head in anger? Disappointment? Whatever. Whatever emotion it is, he could honestly care less. He’s stressed and he doesn’t want to be here anymore. He’s tired. He’s so tired. It’s taken a long time to find that out.

Hi--

He doesn’t even finish the thought this time. He stops thinking. He doesn’t know how, but he’s completely stopped all brain processes that go on. This is better. It feels calm. His vision feels like it’s cleared up, and he can start typing whatever he was typing in this document for some reason. Itaru walks out of the bathroom, completely clothed, and looking a bit fresh.

“I’m going to sleep.”

No response.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6

Prompt Response #40- Ethren Whitecross

“Would it really be a crime to let yourself have some fun once in a while?”

The first in the responses for the prompts. I will say in advance that not all of this may make sense or appear ‘canon’. It’s also a sequel to ‘The Other World’ a story I wrote awhile back in honor of Ethren Whitecross. What first started out as a fun concept between two MCs, I turned into this for better or worse. And it was tough at times emotionally. But I poured my heart and soul into it. It is also non-canon and completely AU. That being said, I do love the multiverse and this was a great way to explore that.

@hogwartsmysterystory​ My friend. This is for you. And for Ethren. I hope you like it.

It had taken many moons for David Grant to achieve what was previously thought to impossible: the ability to hop dimensions at will. Since the end of the war and his mind blowing foray into the universe that housed another curse breaker, the twenty five year old not only joined the Department of Mysteries part time in addition to being reinstated as an Auror but began exploring the power of the veil for more timelines.

It was partially due to self interest, which his boss Croaker didn’t need to know about. Happy to further the Department’s investigations of the unknown magical branches, the experience of visiting another world had touched him so deeply David resolved to do more investigating: specifically if there were any other scenarios involving Ethren Whitecross in which he did not die. Despite technically never meeting the American, he already felt a sense of kinship with him, a kind of surreal connection one couldn’t explain in so many words.

He deserved better...so much better

Many months passed, but at last David was able to tinker with the magical properties of the veil so that it revealed a wondrous discovery: the cosmos was damn well infinite. Billions of people making billions of choices creating infinite earths. And it didn’t take long for him to discover a timeline in which Ethren was still alive and in Hogwarts.

“Hang on, mate. I’m coming,” he said as he stepped through, making sure his protections were sufficient to protect him from the other realm the veil lead to: death.

Of course, David had never actually met Ethren for obvious reasons and so had no idea what to expect from him. The only aspects of his life he knew for certain were that he was American, died in the war, engaged in a relationship with Merula and unknowingly had a son in the process. The other timeline’s Merula had given him more grisly details, but nothing so specific as to his personality, likes, dislikes, or anything else.

As it turned out, much to his chagrin, Ethren Whitecross was a bit sour to say the least.

He was short for a male, only 5’6 but with intense, clear blue eyes to go along with caramel brown hair and conventionally attractive features. He wasn’t terribly athletic but could swing a beater’s bat well enough. Similar to himself however, Ethren was a top notch dueler and excelled in the subjects he genuinely enjoyed, but struggling in those he did not care for. However, his less than sunny disposition was certainly off putting and it didn’t take long to figure out why.

“So let me get this straight,” Ethren said skeptically as they lay on the shores of the lake at Hogwarts. “You’re from another universe where my family never existed and in my universe your family never existed. Like me, you’re an amateur cursebreaker, date Merula, and apparently need to warn me about my impending death? Do I have everything correctly?”

“Uh, yeah that pretty much sums it up,” came the response.

Unfortunately for David, he had stumbled into a timeline where Ethren was completing his 7th year at Hogwarts as opposed to being a full grown adult. But it was just as well, finding Ethren was easy given his reputation. Getting him to believe his story was quite another debacle altogether.

“Well, guess what, you’re a bit too late. I already know I’m dying from my blood malediction and that R still wants to kill me. By the way, thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. A paper cut with lemon juice would have sufficed.”

He got up to leave but David moved to stop him.

“Wait, wait, hear me out. I can explain everything in a bit more detail.”

“Or I could go back to the library and read.”

David scoffed.

“More like you would brood all day.”

Ethren flushed from indignation.

“And how would you know that?”

“Believe me, I know enough...look I’m just trying to help.”

“My cranky on and off girlfriend is a bigger help than you’re being right now and that’s saying something.”

David took a breath of the evening Scotland air and breathed out. He should have known it wouldn’t be this easy, but that last statement left an uneasy sensation in his stomach. He remembered vividly a drunken twenty six year old Merula wanted by the law while drowning herself in vodka tonics and narcissistic self loathing. He was beginning to see just how much of an emotional toll she was taking on the poor lad. So he decided to switch gears.

“Look, I have an idea. Classes are done for the day right, you’re a legal wizarding adult...come hang out with me for a couple hours.”

“I can’t leave Hogwarts,” Ethren shot back.

“Right, since when did Dumbledore’s rules ever stop us from leaving whenever we wanted?”

“Point taken but still no.”

“By God, Would it really be a crime to let yourself have fun once in a while?” David half laughed in amazement. “Trust me, let’s go have a good time and I’ll explain everything afterwards, alright?”

He didn’t think it would work given the clear suspicion still lurking in those blue eyes but to his surprise, Ethren relented and nodded.

“Fine.”

“You can apparate right?”

“Yes and I can also blow you to smithereens if you try anything funny.”

“You know part of me does want to know what would happen if we ever dueled,” David grinned. “However, I went through a war mate. Got a bit of a head start on ya.”

“Fantastic.”

“And here I thought we Brits were the uptight and sarcastic ones. Aren’t Yanks supposed to be expressive?”

Ethren simply snorted and walked past him into the open field.

“Be thankful I’m saying anything at all.”

The two young men walked until they reached the boundaries of the school just beyond the entrance, David leading the way.

“Follow my lead,” he said. “Unless you can’t keep up,” he added teasingly.

“Just go,” came the grumpy response.

Bollocks, this is going to be harder than I thought David mused to himself with exasperation

And with a loud *pop they apparated into the sunset.

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

It didn’t take long for the two to land in random cobblestone street with Ethren keeling over, grimacing severely.

“Yeah I hate apparation too,” David said, pulling out a flask and taking a sip. “You get used to it.”

“I only recently passed.”

“Fair. Which is why where I’m taking you next will simultaneously relieve that discomfort and get you to loosen up.”

Ethren looked up and saw a wooden sign in maroon lettering which read the words ‘The Mayfair.’

“A bar?”

“Never underestimate the value of a pub,” David told him sagely. And before the younger lad could object he pushed him inside the door.

Inside was a setting not altogether spectacular. There was a small dining area, a large bar that spanned about fifty feet with two bulky TVs that currently were playing the latest football matches. However there was also a small staging area that contained a microphone with another TV sitting overhead. A sizable crowd graced its floors- a hodgepodge of young professionals, crusty regulars, football fans, and those who were just looking for a good time. Which was precisely why they were there.

In his time after Hogwarts and during the war David found that muggle bars offered a lot more in terms of entertainment and alcohol: a primary factor in why he chose a casual London pub as opposed to a place like the Leaky Cauldron. Muggles also tended to write better music which was also key to this night.

“It’s a good thing we aren’t in robes,” Ethren said above the general chatter of the pub.

“I made sure your classes were over before we came here,” David replied. His own dress was unremarkable: brown leather boots, jeans, jacket, and a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt (they were the most popular band in the world in the late eighties/early nineties after all). They fit right in.

David dragged Ethren over to the counter and caught the attention of the barkeep, knowing full well that in England you never got carded for ID as they did in America.

“Two Guinnesses please.”

“You got it.”

He flipped a couple of pounds and soon enough was presented with two full tankards of the dark stout.

“Cheers, mate,” David told him, clinking his glass with Ethren’s.

The twenty five year old relished the taste but clearly his counterpart did not, grimacing as though he had swallowed stinksap.

“Dear God that’s awful. Why do you drink this stuff?”

“Keep sipping and you’ll find out,” came the cheeky reply.

Ethren merely shrugged and did his best to keep drinking. David peered around and saw the exact person he wanted to see: the DJ.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

For his part, Ethren Whitecross was highly confused by this whole affair. He still wasn’t sure he believed that this person, whoever they were, was supposedly a dimension traveler who’d apparently met another version of himself by accident. It was just too insane to believe. And yet somehow he knew details about his life that no one else popping up like that could know.

And now he wants to just drink our night away at a bar? What is this guy about?

Indeed, that appeared to be the most intriguing aspect of this. David Grant apparently not only came back to warn him but to spend time together as if they were old friends. Ethren wasn’t sure how he felt about that just yet given that R was still after him however this fellow didn’t appear to be unseemly...yet anyway. For now, he decided to keep drinking the beer, which oddly enough began to make him feel a bit warm and fuzzy in the head.

Soon enough David returned a big grin on his face.

“Finish that up soon. We’re on next.”

“Next for what?” Ethren asked, utterly nonplussed.

“My friend you are about to experience the wonders of karaoke.”

“Kara-what?”

David laughed, deep and true then drained his beer in one gulp.

“You’re about to find out.”

Ethren found himself dragged away to the staging area where they were handed two microphones and a pair of spotlights shone down on them.

“Should have asked this beforehand but how familiar are you with muggle music?”

“Umm not very?” came the unenthusiastic answer.

“Do you know ‘Piano Man’ by Billy Joel?”

Ethren nodded. His father kept a collection of old muggle records at home and that was a song played quite frequently sometimes to his chagrin.

“Yeah, I know that one.”

“Smashing. We’ll be just fine.”

The crowd started to cheer as the opening piano chords began to play. Ethren squirmed uncomfortably but David put a strong hand around his shoulder and began to sing in earnest. There was no backing out now.

“It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday

The regular crowd shuffles in

There’s an old man sitting next to me

Making love to his tonic and gin”

Ethren had to admit that this stranger sang well, but he wasn’t so much of a musician himself. But he had no choice as the microphone was pressed into his face.

“He said son can you play me a melody

I’m not really sure how it goes

But it’s sad and it’s sweet and I knew it complete

When I wore a younger man’s clothes”

The young Gryffindor understood better why the beer was necessary. One drink already had him buzzing but it sure loosened inhibitions. Slowly he began to enjoy himself as he belted the chorus alongside David.

“Sing us the the song, you’re the piano man

Sing us the song, tonight

Well we’re all in the mood for a melody

And you got us feeling alright”

To Ethren’s amazement the crowd began cheering despite the fact his pitch was probably way off. Apparently it didn't matter how good or bad you were at actualling singing, enthusiasm for the song and the camaraderie of the patrons was enough to send everyone into a frenzy. Feeding off that energy, the two young men sang into the Scotland night, following the lyrics with gusto.

“Sing us the song, you’re the piano man

Sing us the song, tonight

Well we’re all in the mood for a melody

And you got us feeling alright”

The last of the harmonica sounded off into the exit riff of the piano and the song was over. Ethren could hardly believe it ended so fast, but the cheers of the crowd were practically deafening. Indeed the feeling was so exhilarating, he almost didn’t notice the shadowed face of his counterpart, lines of worry practically melting off his face.

Perhaps he wasn’t the only cursebreaker that had problems.

Afterwards, the two sat down and drank a few more beers, which were on the house due to their riveting performance. Several regulars gave them cheers and pats on the back. The two chatted about a number of things, but it wasn’t until they stepped outside for a breath of fresh air that the conversation turned honest and even somber.

David lit a cigarette and took a long inhale before issuing smoke.

“Told ya I knew how to have fun.”

“Maybe I wasn’t the only one in need of it,” Ethren observed astutely.

The older man shrugged but tried to play it cool.

“I’ve been through…a lot,” he said simply. “Moments like the one in the bar are the kind that kept me going over the years. It’s what makes life so wonderful even when it’s not.”

Ethren paused before asking.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty five to be exact. Twenty six in four months.”

“You look five years beyond that.”

It was blunt but David knew by now Ethren didn’t pull punches. He could relate to that. Neither did he.

“I didn’t come back merely to warn you about your malediction, Ethren,” he said quietly. “You beat that.”

“So...I die another way?”

David swallowed, feeling a lump pop up in his throat. Now was not the time to get super emotional. He needed to tell the truth.

“You have a relationship with Merula just as I do, yeah?”

“I do. Though I can’t say it’s always a happy one. We either bicker or just end up making out half the time.”

The older man chuckled sardonically, knowing full well what his wife was like when she was sixteen.

“Sounds about right. Believe me, I know how she is sometimes.”

“You’re at least eight years older than I am right now….what happened with you and her?”

David knew this was the moment he came back for. The essence of his visit.

“We married after Hogwarts. During the war, she was kidnapped by her parents and placed under the imperius curse. I was able to free her during the Battle of Hogwarts.”

Ethren’s eyes were practically popping out of their sockets.

“Wait, wait back up. There’s a war? Merula becomes a Death Eater?”

“Let me explain,” David said, raising his hands in the air whilst also flicking his cigarette. “Yes, You Know Who will return in four years time and begin a new war against the Ministry. And no, my wife did not become a Death Eater. She was shanghaied against her will. At that point in her life, she wanted nothing to do with her parents. Can you say the same for yours?”

Ethren’s head was practically spinning at this newfound revelation. He felt a desperate need to sit down but remained standing, running a hand through his caramel locks.

“She...she would never.”

“If you believe that, you’re wrong. If Merula doesn’t break off her toxic relationship with her parents, she’ll go right back to them once they’re freed from Azkaban.”

Denial morphed into pain as the younger man shook his head.

“Why...why would she do that?”

“You know as well as I do how badly she wants their approval and how it affects her judgement. My Merula made the right choice, but I also helped her to see what kind of path she was heading in. You must do the same.”

“And what happens if I don’t?”

In a reversal of moods, David’s hazel blue eyes bore into Ethren’s crystal blue ones, hardening with each passing second, though there was still tremendous sympathy.

“I will not lie, however the answer will be difficult for you to hear. You will each find yourself on the opposite side of the coming conflict and Merula will realize her error far too late. In the end, you will sacrifice your life for hers during a great battle. And as a result, a son will never know his father.”

Tears were forming into Ethren’s eyes and David was trying his best not to do the same though it was becoming increasingly difficult.

“W-what...what should I do?”

“Guide her,” David responded softly. “Show her that there is a better way to happiness than simply attaining power. Help her to see that she can trust people unconditionally and that those people are not her parents….especially her mother,” he added with a heavy hint of disgust.

“I don’t know if I can,” the teenage Gryffindor said, his voice still wavering. “She won’t listen to me. She never has.”

“She will. I guarantee it.”

David stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Ethren, embracing him in a hug while silent tears fell from his eyes.

“You can do it, Ethren. I’ve seen war, I’ve seen death, and I’ve seen a world where a family was ended before it began. Trust me when I say this, you and Merula Snyde are meant for each other for better or worse. And if I can do my part to ensure you end up happy instead of six feet under, I damn well won’t hesitate.”

They broke apart with both men wiping their eyes.

“Bloody alcohol,” David joked.

“I think I’ll hold off on any more beers.”

The older man placed a hand on Ethren’s shoulder though this time he did not hug him but instead gave a final guiding message.

“I made a promise to thank you for what you did for my wife and to honor your memory. This way, I can do both. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Now go break your malediction, defeat R, and live the life you deserve.”

Ethren nodded, finally gaining back control of his emotions but also feeling a deeper sense of purpose as well as gratitude to this stranger.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said somewhat lamely, cursing his lack of ability to express his feelings properly.

“You’ll never have to,” David responded kindly. “Consider it a favor from one friend to another.”

He released Ethren’s shoulder and nodded with a smile.

“Now let’s get you back to Hogwarts. If memory serves, I believe curfew should be soon. Don’t want Snape catching you out of bed.”

Ethren gave a smile of his own.

“Since when has Dumbledore’s rules stopped us?”

David laughed one more time before they disapparated with a small *pop.

“Never.”

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

Merula Snyde did not like feeling guilty. It was a useless emotion better left for fools who believed in sentimentality and other such nonsense. But when it came to one special boy, her heart could not help serve as a constant reminder of how much she mistreated him. Such as their fight from earlier that morning.

Working late into the night in the library, the ambitious Slytherin had poured through book after book and page after page in order to see if there was anything about maledictions they hadn’t already discovered or knew about thus far. In a sense, it was her attachment to Whitecross and their past experiences together that drove her to do as she did. There was no need to say that you cared, that’s what saving him from his blood curse was for. Even so, the young Slytherin couldn’t avoid the guilt or her memories.

“Why do you do this?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Whitecross. Spit it out.”

The Gryffindor clenched his fists but then let out a sigh and then unclenched them as they stood outside in the corridor near Charms.

“You claim you’re on my side but not once do you ever take responsibility for your own shortcomings. Nothing is ever your fault or a bad idea. Is it your job in life to torture me?”

Merula snorted as she dismissed him yet again.

“You torture yourself enough all on your own. If there was a shred of common sense in that empty head of yours, you’d acknowledge that you don’t have the bollocks to take out R same as it was with Rakepick. I’m not going to apologize for speaking the truth.”

Ethren usually swept aside her barbs no problem but this one appeared to hit home in a way her usual ones did not. He took her hand in his.

“Merula, I don’t know that I can call you my girlfriend anymore...I’m not sure what we are. But...those feelings we have won’t just go away. Why can’t you just at least pretend you care about me?”

But his appeal to her better senses fell flat as she withdrew her hand and gave a hard stare with her vivid, violet eyes.

“If you want a hug, Whitecross go to Haywood. Don’t waste my time.”

And without another word, she spun around in her combat boots and walked off not bothering to see the pained reaction on his face.

Merula clenched her jaw as the remorse became almost overwhelming. Why? Why was she like this? It wouldn’t kill her to throw the poor blighter a bone now and then, right?

“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered aloud.

A second voice entered her mind, one that was hauntingly familiar.

You should know better. There are no such things as happy endings. The only person anyone can rely on is themselves….

The voice became disturbingly soothing.

You’re special my little blackbird. I will always love you

Merula resisted the urge to cry as she planted her face on one of the many books layed out in front of her. She did not care if Madam Pince yelled at her for staying too late. Wallowing within her inner demons outweighed any potential punishment.

“I never realized the true depth of your self loathing narcissism until much later in life,” spoke a voice. It frightened her so much, that she jumped at least a foot in the air and wheeled around, wand in hand.

Standing by the window of the library was a young man, light beard, longish brown hair, tall, wearing a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt, brown boots, and a dark cloak. He wore his hoodie up and so could not see the face clearly. Nevertheless, she kept her wand trained on him.

“Who are you and what do you want? I promise I’m the last witch you want to mess with,” she snarled.

“My identity is inconsequential. As for what I want, I only wish to impart a gift.”

Merula did not believe a word of what this stranger said and had half a mind to hex him if it wasn’t for the fact that damaging the library in such a manner was a bannable offense.

“Whatever the intentions, you picked a really bad spot. Don’t you know where you are? Madam Pince will disembowel anyone who mucks about in here...of course she won’t have the honor of doing so before I do.”

A condescending chuckle emanated from underneath the hood.

“I have a silencing charm and a protective ward around this area. We won’t be interrupted I assure you. In any case, what I have planned isn’t going to take long.”

The teenage Slytherin silently checked the magical energies around her and realized he was right. Those kinds of wards were only the kind powerful Aurors knew or worse. All of a sudden, real fear entered Merula’s bones though she did her best to hide it.

“W-What are you going to do? What is this?”

The figure did not move, only uttering a single sentence.

“The day you finally understand.”

He was too quick for her to react properly, so fast was the draw of his wand. There was an incantation she didn’t recognize and a jet of white light that struck her in the forehead.

A swarm of images flashed through Merula’s mind and she was forced to witness every single one of them: two teenagers triumphing over an evil organization, an emotional breakup, darkness arising in the British wizarding world, an escape from Azkaban, a young woman kneeling before the Dark Lord, a night of raw passion, the birth of a child, and finally the scene of a young man with an arrow lodged in his chest, a despondent woman in Death Eater robes sobbing over the lifeless body.

‘Ethren! Ethren! ETHREN! PLEASE! DON’T GO!!!’

Then just as quickly as they came the images were gone and so was the unknown figure. Only a reeling and emotionally fragile young woman who had only one thought on her mind.

“Ethren,” she breathed out.

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

The young Gryffindor teen was slightly annoyed as Jae told him someone was waiting outside the tower for him. Who on earth was so desperate to talk to him this late at night? Did they not have the password or some other such nonsense? He wasn’t in the mood for a prank.

As he stepped past the portrait of the Fat Lady, however, his questions were answered right away as a mess of brown hair with an orange tuft slammed into him.

“What the- Merula?”

“Ethren,” she whispered as she clung to him for dear life. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Utterly shocked, Ethren separated himself ever so slightly, still holding her in arms and looked into beautiful, violet eyes; eyes that were swimming with tears.

“Sorry? For what?”

“For everything...I didn’t realize...I didn’t know…”

Words failed her as she pressed her lips against his. Ethren didn’t hold back, returning the passionate kiss, long and deep. Fireworks were exploding in his mind.

When they broke apart, he saw she was still crying but there was also the same determination that sparkled in the orbs he’d come to love for better or worse.

“Things are going to be different from now on...I promise. I love you,” she said.

Ethren traced a finger along her soft, porcelain cheek, taking in the small freckles that dotted her adorable nose. He’d never felt so amazing, so enamored with the girl in front of him.

“I love you, too.”

As they embraced once more, Ethren Whitecross couldn’t help but think of the man who’d changed his life in one fell swoop. The one who’d gotten him to simultaneously sing karaoke and drink Guinness on the most memorable night of his young life. He smiled as he took in the scent of cloves, nail polish...and something elusive.

Thank you, David Grant

Maybe. A story where Sammy and Norman get out of the studio right before hell brakes? They need a good ending ;-:

Summary: Sammy's sudden decline in health saves both him and Norman from something much more sinister than they could ever imagine.

---

     In another world, Norman Polk makes the mistake of ignoring the glaring signs that something is terribly wrong with Joey Drew Studios. In this one... He gets luckier. The butterfly effect could be attributed to this somewhat fortunate turn of events, as the split second decision to look for something he misplaced is what leads him to witness Sammy throwing up just outside of the men's bathroom nearest to the music department. Had he let it be for another night, he'd be none the wiser to the severity of Sammy's condition. Norman wasn't sure then how the cranky music director ingested the ink. Assumed, even, that it had been another near death experience that involved burst pipes and flooding. So he'd acted purely on instinct and taken the poor kid to the hospital.   "He's lucky to be alive. The amount of ink in his system would have been enough to kill at least three men." The doctor told him, equal parts fascinated and horrified with the case he'd been presented with. "I'm not sure how none of his organs have shut down from the toxicity levels, but I've got to say Mr. Lawrence is a resilient man."   "A pain in ta neck too... Had he called for help he likely wouldn't be in this state..." Norman had assumed it was Sammy's pride that kept him from calling out from what he was sure was just another ink flood in his department. How wrong he was. "I is gonna have ta call my brother ta see if his poor sister is at his. Can't imagine she ain't worried sick 'bout what's takin' him so long ta get home."   "You may use the reception phone to call his family, yes. I'll have a nurse get you if he wakes up." Sammy didn't wake up. Not that night at least... That would only happen the next night, and by then Norman would be busy with something else that would definitely boggle his mind.

-

  "Yous is sure Drew ain't said a hush o' a whisper 'bout what's goin' on?" Norman frowned as he talked on the phone with Wally. He'd gotten up that morning barely having slept after returning home from the hospital, only to discover the studio was closed down and under police investigation.   "Nothin'! Whatever happened he's keeping it real quiet... But get this: Several people in the studio up and vanished!" Wally exclaimed. "Into thin air, like it was a magic show!"   "Vanished...?" Norman frowned, sounding incredulous at the vague statement. "What does that mean exactly Wally?"   "What ya think it means pal. Gone. No clue how or why, just the when." The janitor sighed. "Bunch a good folks too... Miss Campbell, Shawn, Grant, that Piedmont fellow and Mrs. Benton..." Wally paused for a second, as if to figure out who else had apparently gone from under everyone's nose.   "Oh! Couple a' band members gone... Jack and Mel too, which Joey sounded real sad 'bout cuzz ya know... Mel gives the Butcher Gang that real voice magic o' his..." Wally dragged on before coming to stop at the two people Norman most dreaded hearing about. "Buddy and Dot, and like half 'a the art department..."   "That's 36 people gone. How in the hell did a group o' folks just up an' go without none seein'?!"   "I don't know Norman!" Wally sounded honestly freaked out. "I'm pissing my briefs just thinking something awful's gone and happened to them! But Joey insists everything is gonna be ok and... I donno, that just don't sit well with me..."   "Sure don't... Sounds mighty awful suspicious that he'd be so calm considerin' a ton of his employees went and pulled a Houdini act..." Norman hissed into the phone as he looked out the window. Something about this situation was getting him real paranoid all of a sudden.   "Eh... Wait, didn't that there Houdini fellow die during his own act...?"   "As a matter o' fact, yes. He did." Norman swore he saw someone retreating down his street. Something fishy was going on. And Joey Drew obviously knew more than he let on.   "Gosh... I think it's finally time t'a really get outta the studio."   "I'd say so kid." He pulled the curtains closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to think. "I'll call ya later Wally. I'm gonna go and check on Sammy at the hospital. You gimme the low down if ya find out anymore o' this scam."   "Got it Norms. Good luck with Sammy, he's probably gonna be real grumpy 'bout nearly dying again!"

-

     Grumpy did not described the state of mania Sammy seemed to wake up in. Later that night the blond music director had suddenly jolted up and awake and the absolute nonsense he was spouting was worrying to say the least. If Norman wasn't already so bamboozled by what was going on with the studio, he might look mortified at the scene the other was making. In fact, Norman was too busy shielding Sammy's sister from the absolutely insane tirade he was going on to really care...   "YOU DONT UNDERSTAND! HE NEEDS ME! I NEED TO GO BACK! LET ME GO BACK!" Sammy Lawrence was a tall man, but he wasn't particularly strong. A beanpole that was sharp bony angles and unconventionally handsome looks. The man currently fighting off three doctors trying to jab him with syringes full of sedatives was not even flinching when he was shoved. Norman had never seen such insanity in one person's eyes, and frankly he could barely recognize his coworker as he was. The way his curly long hair framed his face almost made his eyes look darker than they should be. Like inky pools. He could only guess what Abigail must be feeling, even as he tried his best to keep her from witnessing what was likely her brother having some sort of long overdue psychotic break.   "WOULD SOMEONE SEDATE HIM ALREADY BEFORE HE GOES AN' HURTS SOMEONE?!" The projectionist hollered over the screams, just surprising Sammy enough that one needle could find its mark. A minute or so later, the blond flopped back down into the bed he'd been laying on. Quiet as a sleeping mouse. Norman held the poor weeping Abigail Lawrence even as they were pushed out of the room.

-

     15 years later, Norman Polk found himself reviewing the last couple of years of his life. He'd abandoned a previous career path to help fix whatever horrors Drew's brand of ink had done to Sammy. The blond had been treated for all sorts of things, none of the treatments seeming to work whatsoever in his time playing the role of a sickly lab rat. Only time seemed to have some kind of positive effect, and even still the damage was noticeable. Abby had gone to live with Norman's brother and his niece and nephew, with the ex-projectionist himself popping in every so often to help where he could. His brother was short on money so he did odd-jobs here and there to help. Norman's own kids were well off as it were so he didn't need to worry too much about how much he spent looking after the others. In the time that the investigation had come and gone, Joey Drew Studios had closed for good. None of the missing folk ever returning. In fact, Norman knew for sure more people were going missing...      As of today things were... Quiet. Too quiet really, considering how turbulent it had been. Sammy was out under his younger sister's custody, labelled some sort of invalid because his head wasn't working too good (a lie, as Norman caught him in his more lucid moments and knew how frustrated and trapped the once-music director felt about his situation that he couldn't even explain). He wasn't nearly as outspoken and ornery as he used to be. All sense of pride vanishing and being replaced with this deep dark shame over something out of his control. Less wordy and more tired looks and vague gestures. His eloquence and motor skills had also suffered greatly from having consumed a toxic liquid that inexplicably caused enough damage to ruin his independence, but not enough to damage many major organs or bodily functions. Norman visited and played chess of all things, to keep him company. The blond seemed to appreciate it, but his interest was on what Norman did nowadays. He was a private investigator. His main case? Joey Drew Studios. And tomorrow he was getting answers from none other than Joey Drew himself, as the man had reached out to him in quite the compelling letter... It was about the right time to go back to the old studio and find out what had happened the night he and Sammy left.

Renewed Hope A FFXV Fanfic ft: Promnis

Fic link in the comments if you want to read on ao3 instead.

It all happened in an instant, the daemon he was fighting simply dissolved into a cloud of black miasma. Prompto knew what that meant; Noct had done what he’d promised. He’d saved the Eos from eternal darkness. The other indication that things had shifted was his gun he couldn’t dismiss into the armiger anymore.

However, at that exact moment, Prompto didn’t know for certain whether or not Noct had survived his battle against Ardyn.  Their plan to stick together until the end hadn’t worked out. Ardyn had easily separated them and left Gladio, Ignis, and him to fight a daemon army alone. The onslaught had been so great that Prompto had lost track of his friends.

In a panic, he began to run around looking for signs of life. He knew where they’d all head to, they’d check on Noct first. Ignis had figured out how Noct could beat Ardyn without having to die in the process, but that didn’t mean it had played out that way.

It was in his frantic run up the battered steps to the citadel that he spotted Gladio limping towards him. “Do you think he made it?” Prompto asked with worry.

“Dunno blondie, we gotta get there first to check. Where’s Iggy?” he huffed in obvious discomfort.

Prompto scanned the area but saw no sign of the advisor. The urge to look for him was overwhelming but he also needed to see Noct. Forcing the thoughts away that suggested death and loss he forged ahead. Gladio refused aid when they were near enough; he practically shoved him away and up the steps.

“Don’t wait for me, we need to find Noct and Iggy.”

“On it!” Prompto replied as he sprinted up the stairs. Gladio’s grunts of pain sounded out behind him as he ran towards the throne room.  That was the last place they’d seen them. Noct and Ardyn.

Ripping open the door Prompto’s breath caught in his throat. There in the middle of the room was Noct, lying on the floor.  Yelling out loud in a gut reaction Prompto raced forward and fell to his knees next to his friend.  Unsure of what to do he gently placed his hands on Noct’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. The prince, no, their king groaned and scrunched his face up in discomfort.

Letting out an undignified squeal at the sight Prompto couldn’t help but smile and promptly start crying. They’d done it, Noct was alive and Ardyn was gone. Noct seemed to finally have enough energy to open his eyes to take in his friend losing it.

“Prom, I’m alright,” he said weakly.

“Prompto! What – thank the gods,” Gladio exclaimed as he steadied his body against the door frame. “Don’t scare me like that!” he hollered.

Noct didn’t attempt to get up but managed to roll his head to the side. “Gladio, you made it. Where’s Ignis? Is he alright?”

Prompto was about to comment that they still hadn’t found the advisor when a scraping noise nearby caused him to look up.  There in another doorway stood Ignis, he was hunched over holding his side. The sheer relief at seeing him alive made Prompto shout loudly, again.  His emotions were threatening to overtake him.  Everything was happening too fast but not fast enough.

Gladio was still working to get over to them when Ignis appeared. The shield's excitement at seeing him was just as animated. He tried to hobble over to help Ignis but ended up falling over halfway there. What a sorry looking lot they all were, beat and battered from battle.  “Can you make it alright?” Gladio asked as he panted heavily from where he’d crumpled on the floor.

Ignis didn’t answer verbally but continued to shuffle slowly towards them. He seemed to be afraid until he spotted Noct looking up at him. Their small moment of relief lasted a few brief seconds, but it was enough to set Ignis at ease.  Prompto watched as Ignis’ shoulders sagged, he’d been unsure of the outcome, just like them.

He didn’t say anything as he carefully walked closer, his eyes still locked with Noct’s. “It’s done, you did it,” he breathed reverently.

“We did it,” Noct corrected from his position sprawled across the broken marble floor.

A small bubble of laughter spilled from Ignis’ lips right before he began to fall sideways. Without pause Prompto shot up and caught the man, guiding him down slowly so he wouldn’t hit the floor. Looking quickly to see if Ignis was hiding any severe injuries Prompto could only see surface bumps and bruises. “Iggy, don’t die or anything, what’s wrong?” Prompto asked in a rush.

“Got in a fight,” was all he offered with a small smirk.

“Look! Oh my gods, look!” Gladio blurted suddenly.

Glancing up, Prompto noted what Gladio was getting so excited about. There was sunlight, real honest to astrals sunlight beginning to pour in through the windows of the throne room.

“No one can call me lazy ever again,” Noct sighed with a smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of it princess,” Gladio said happily.

“Iggy, can you see it?” Prompto checked as he tried to hoist the advisor upright a little more.

Ignis blinked a few times, his green eyes catching the first rays of light and making his eyes water. “it’s lovely,” he uttered softly.  Then without any warning, Ignis grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down into a kiss.

Unable to process what exactly was happening Prompto sat frozen in place. Ignis pulled away just as quickly and smiled up at him. “Wha – what?”  However, Prompto didn’t get an answer as Ignis promptly passed out in his arms.

“Guys, guys! What just happened!? Ignis kissed me and now he’s unconscious--- help,” Prompto whined.

“Huh? What are you talking about? Specs kissed you? Like he’s happy we’re alive and thanks for helping kinda smooch or different?” Noct asked quickly, his penchant for distracted rambling coming to the surface despite their serious setting.

“It was on the lips,” Prompto offered still in shock at the turn of events.

“Wait, you mean he just kissed you?” Gladio checked as he dragged himself closer. “He’s breathing okay, right? You’re freaking me out again Prompto.”

“Yes and yes, you both missed it, but he grabbed me and kissed me, on the lips.”

“Huh, I guess he wasn’t kidding.”

“Kidding about what, explain!” Prompto ordered though it was hard to focus on everything that had just happened. They’d survived Ardyn, Noct was alive, and the sun was shining for the first time in ten years. Prompto was slightly overwhelmed.

--

Prompto couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the window. He’d been sitting and staring out at the sun-drenched landscape all day. A makeshift hospital had been set up in one of the less damaged areas of the citadel. This meant his current view overlooked what used to be gardens. The area was torn up from 10 years of war and darkness, but that didn’t change the fact that it was being blessed by light again.

Things that used to glitter in the sun were allowed to regain their life once more. Turning away for a moment Prompto peered across the room to check on his friends. Of all of them, he’d been lucky enough to escape serious injury. Gladio had a few busted ribs and a sprained ankle.  Ignis appeared to have a bruised rib along with a bump to the back of his head.  Noct was alive and simply beat making him a total pile of mush.

The three of them were resting peacefully; even in the tiny crownsguard issued cots they’d been provided. The arsenal of old and new recruits that had stormed the place after the final battle had been startling. Cor had led the small crew and was taking charge of organizing their next moves. Everyone was tired, but Prompto figured Noct deserved a break. He’d beat a cranky two-thousand-year-old immortal relative. That act alone should merit some downtime.

The four of them had been ushered into the space as soon as it had been cleared and readied. Cor seemed to understand that they needed some alone time. This was how Prompto found himself sitting on a cot staring out the window and pondering the future.

The only noise to be heard in the small room was Gladio and Noct snoring, a true sign of their utter exhaustion.  They were safe and that’s all that mattered at the moment. Though, when Prompto had decided that he wanted to sit on the cot nearest to Ignis no one challenged him.  Now that the frenzy was over Prompto had time to think. He could go back and analyze the way Ignis interacted with him. The advisor had always been kind but maybe there had been something more, and Prompto had missed it somehow.  Glancing over at to the man in question, Prompto was happy to see he was resting comfortably.  Covered in blankets up to his chin, Prompto watched the steady rise and fall of his chest as Ignis slept.

Was there any possibility that the kiss had been purely friendly in nature? They had just finished saving the world so maybe Ignis had been really, really happy about it. Or without his glasses, he thought Prompto was Noct. Shaking his head at the thought Prompto debated about what to do when Ignis woke up again.  He might not even remember the incident, though Gladio had indicated it wasn’t as spontaneous as Prompto thought.

Ignis had told Gladio one night years ago that if he ever saw the sun again he’d act on his feelings.  Whatever those feelings might have been no one knew except the man sleeping in the cot next to him. Unfortunately, Ignis hadn’t told Gladio anything more after that. Prompto would have to figure out the real meaning behind the kiss on his own.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to ruminate for much longer, when Ignis let out a long breath and moved slightly. Hopping off his cot, Prompto dropped down on his knees next to Ignis. “Hey, how you are feeling?” he asked quickly hoping to dispel any lingering fears as Ignis woke.

The first sound that tumbled past the advisor's lips didn’t sound like words, but he did manage to open his eyes.  “Mhnnn, m’not dreaming am I?”

“No! It’s really over, we won.”

“Good, I don’t think I can get up, I need to sleep for another week,” Ignis sighed.

Laughing at how uncharacteristic the comment was Prompto couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I think Noct is gonna win that game.”

Ignis turned to look around and huffed out a small breath. “He’s always been excellent at taking naps. He’s not injured is he?” he checked quickly, the thought seeming to have just come to mind.

“Not that we can tell, he was grumbling about being sore, but he’s alright otherwise.”

“Good, and Gladio?”

“Same, he’s a little more beat up than the rest of us but he’s fine too.”

“And you? You seem in good spirits.”

“I’m fine, still sorta shell shocked that this is all real. I’ve been staring out the window looking at the sunlight, gods Iggy we did it!”

“That we did,” Ignis smiled and held his gaze. Vibrant green eyes roamed his face but never looked away. “I hope you didn’t mind my display earlier.”

Perking up at the subject Prompto shuffled a little closer. “You mean when you kissed me?”

“Yes, that. I’d promised myself a little something self-indulgent if we ever managed to see the sun again. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I simply couldn’t deny myself any longer.”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable, um – just surprised,” Prompto offered quietly. “I didn’t know you liked me that way.”

Ignis laughed softly and worked his arm out from under the covers. “I’ve liked you that way for a few years,” he said while reaching out his arm to grab a fist full of Prompto’s shirt. “I assumed I’d be forgiven given the circumstances. If you weren’t interested, that is.”

“Uh – but I don’t want to forgive you.”

“Oh, for what reason exactly?” Ignis asked puzzled.

Prompto was sure the grip on his shirt had gotten incrementally tighter. Ignis was still looking at him, though he appeared to be nervous if his slightly furrowed brow was anything to go on. Taking a deep breath Prompto said what he felt was right. “I don’t think people have to forgive someone if they aren’t upset.”

Unable to brace himself, Prompto fell on the cot when Ignis pulled him forward. Their noses were only a few inches apart now and Prompto could see every beauty mark on Ignis’ face in stunning detail.

The advisor swallowed hard and took a steadying breath, “Might I be correct in assuming I’ll be given another free pass should I act so brazenly in the future?”

Prompto could only nod his head and wait. This was all so new, but he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like the idea. Ignis had been one of his best friends for over a decade. The chance to explore something more with him was exciting.

Without realizing it, the gap between them had shrunk. Ignis had maintained his grip and didn’t appear to be letting go anytime soon. Deciding to just go for it, Prompto leaned in the rest of the way. The kiss was soft and delicate. Nothing at all like Prompto was expecting. The brief taste he’d had earlier was nothing like this.

The moment Ignis released his hold; Prompto surged up and held Ignis’ face in between his hands. The advisor's arms were twined around his waist and pulling him close. Not wanting to crush the man Prompto had to break apart to brace himself on the cot. “Careful there,” he rasped, “I don’t want to crush you.”

“I’m sturdier than I look,” was the husky reply he received.

“I know you are, but maybe you should rest some more?”

“Only if you join me, I simply can’t let you slip away, not after,” Ignis paused and licked his lips, “not after that.”

Prompto didn’t have to be asked twice, grinning like an idiot he quickly shucked off his shoes and gingerly crawled under the covers. “Tell me if I hurt you at all, kay?”

“You could never hurt me.”

“I’m serious!” Prompto huffed as he worked to situate his legs comfortably.

“You’re doing splendid, don’t worry about it.”

Snorting at Ignis’ attitude, Prompto finally came to rest with his arm across the advisors’ waist. His injury was further up and Prompto was being extra careful not to jostle the man.  “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“What, the light coming back, Noct surviving, or us kissing?”

“Oh em gee, all of it!” Prompto yelped but not loud enough to wake the others.

“It appears the dawn has brought with it renewed hope,” Ignis uttered right before his eyes slipped shut.

Prompto knew he had to be tired, he’d only been able to rest for a few hours. Ignis most likely needed a few days to sleep and recoup his energy. Smiling at the idea that they would get to repeat their previous activities, Prompto snuggled closer and allowed his body to shut down. They had more to talk about and more to do but it could wait. Life was going to get better, it already was better.

Twi-Lite || Harsh & Jane

TIMING: Present? LOCATION: Jane’s Apartment PARTIES: @notsoharsh​ & @jane-the-zombie​ SUMMARY:

Jane swung the door open the second she heard a knock at the door, eyeing Harsh. He certainly looked like the man she had fought wearing a wedding dress, though she was a little irritated that he didn ‘t have a black eye. She hit him pretty damn hard. Her foot for god’s sake was still bruised from the heel stomp. Crap, that must mean she had to go to the gym. “Nice to meet the man from my dreams,” Jane’s bad attempt at humor was obvious as she slid in the wave him in. “Come in, don’t mind the step stool, it’s possessed and cranky and don’t let it out, he’ll try to kill you.” As if to emphasize her point, the rattling step stool in the corner lurched. “Do you drink?”

Harsh let his eyes trail over Jane. Just like the dream. That was still weird. At least it meant he wasn’t losing his mind, but seeing her in person set him on edge. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, seeing her in his dreams, knowing her. It was wrong. But whatever. Not like he could do anything about it. “Likewise,” he said, with a grin as he stepped into Jane’s home. He glanced at the step stool. Huh. Weird. “Oh, I drink, you just have to make it strong. So do you wanna talk? Cause I’m good to just watch shit TV for a while.”

“I think we should talk,” Jane said. She was a little on edge seeing the man that was in her dreams here in person - maybe it was more strange to not automatically want to punch him in the face for ruining her dream wedding. She closed the door behind him. “Especially since I think… I think this may go deeper than dreams.” Jane pushed her hair out of her face, frowning. She kept having thoughts that didn’t quite seem like her own — like another voice was there whispering alongside her own. She waved him to the kitchen, pointing to the cabinet where she kept her alcohol. “I have just about everything, feel free to take whatever and we can sit and… maybe watch some shit Television afterwards. Did I see you watch Say Yes to the Dress??”

“Yeah.” Harsh should probably say a bit more, but… this whole thing was weird. She was real. And she was in his head. This kinda stuff was so far beyond him. It had to be something magic, there was no other explanation. He followed her into the kitchen, moving to the cabinet and grabbing the first decently full bottle he could find. “Yeah, you did. I… don’t usually though. I don’t really give a crap about wedding stuff, or I didn’t until we had that dream. Now I just keep thinking about it. And… other stuff. I’ve had the Miranda Rights stuck in my head for a week and I don’t know why.” He hadn’t heard those in person, in… a while. But Jane didn’t need to know about that part. He glanced over her, slight frown on his face. “Are you a cop?”

“The reality shows about weddings make for great tv.” Jane said with a shrug. She looked at him closely, squinting a little at him before she went to grab a couple of glasses from the cabinet. “I am a cop.” Jane nodded towards her coat rack. The chain where she kept her leather bound badge was hanging off it. “Which leads me to… asking about why I keep thinking about blood and turning people and what not…” She leaned against the counter, folding her arms across her chest as she stared at him. It was alarming, but she supposed some zombies couldn’t help but feed in old school ways. Brains, as she found out when she first did some research, were expensive. “I’m not planning on arresting you, don’t worry. But you’re a zombie, right?”

“I mean, I can’t really argue with that. I just never needed to know as much about dress shopping as I do now.” Harsh drifted about the kitchen, grabbing the first two mugs he could find. Pouring Jane a drink, he passed over her cup first before fixing his own. Shit. Well, there was that. He had to be more careful. Usually he was, but… most people didn’t exactly have a good look at the inside of his head. Wait. What? Zombie… huh. He ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “So you’ve got me figured out already. Yeah, I’m a zombie. It’s not really something I broadcast. I try not to turn people much, some people want it. And sometimes--I work at the hospital, y’know? If there are people on their last legs… sometimes I ask if they want it.” The lies rolled from his tongue all too easily. Still, it wasn’t all that far from the truth. Now, if he could just keep his thoughts going in the right line, everything would be fine.

She was pretty sure alcohol didn’t work if after someone was a zombie - no wonder he had said to make it hard. Whatever made him feel better, she supposed. “Everyone needs a few dress shopping tips here and there. I can give you those, and also tips on how to burn 30 pounds of tule and jewels properly.” Jane gave a shrug. She raised an eyebrow though when he mentioned that sometimes people wanted the bite. Absentmindedly, she touched the scar on her neck. Had things with her and Jason gone down far different - had he told her, had she realized something was off about him… Jane wondered if she would have fulfilled every teenagers lust blinded dreams. She wrinkled her nose, and shook her head as she took a sip of the drink. “And you do it safely, then? Make sure they don’t go out and rampage against people when they wake up?

“I never say no to learning new things.” Harsh sipped at his drink. It wasn’t quite the same blood free, but it was fine. In his time, there had been plenty of people who had asked to be turned. He tried not to make a habit of it. The whole, being mentally tied together thing didn’t really have a lot of appeal. He could teach them to feed safely and set them free, that seemed good enough. Micromanaging sires sounded like a pain and a half. He nodded. “I try to, yeah. I supervise, make sure they’ve got some brains so they don’t lose it in the hospital. I know a couple places where they can get brains easy, and… mostly cruelty free,” he said, with a slight wince. “It’s tough, being… y’know, this. But we have to make do. I try to keep my head down. I don’t want to hurt anyone, I just wanna live my life. Well, un-life.”

Jane considered a moment. Harsh seemed to have things under control, from what he told her. Though his thoughts did tend to be among the reckless side, but she supposed she couldn’t really complain considering her day to day activities. She shifted on her feet, glancing out the window to look at the street below. “That’s what everyone keeps saying.” She said, looking at him with a shrug. “That it’s a struggle and that it’s tough.” Something to look forward too. But she was more interested in the concept of forever. She would be here until the end of time - if there ever was an end of time. So many people would get to die and she would still be here, witnessing history and witnessing whatever the world had to offer. Jane remembered the damn fight she had with Daniel, and with a low sigh, she resigned to block her old partner’s number in the morning.  That had to mean something, right? Her hand dropped from her neck, and she shook the thoughts off. If poor Harsh was boggled down by them right now, he shouldn’t be. “Why don’t we take the night off from all this, then?” She asked, head tilting slightly as she nodded too her television. “I’ve got quite a few seasons of Say Yes to the Dress taped. Probably an embarrassing amount.”

Watching Jane, Harsh shifted on the balls of his feet. He could kind of imagine. With her bite… it wasn’t like she could avoid it. Eventually, it would get her. He shrugged a little, offering a slight smile. “Hey, it’s not all bad though. I’ve been young and pretty for two hundred years now. I’ve seen the world and learned way more than I ever would’ve otherwise. I sorta look at it… not like an ending, it was just a new start, and that’s not a bad thing.” Smile growing a little, he nodded. “Works for me. I was pretty annoyed at first, but I’m getting kind of into it now. If I ever get married, I know exactly what kind of dress I’m wearing.”

“I prefer to look at it like that too,” Jane replied, matching his smile. There was some part of her - some vain part of her that hoped she died before she turned wrinkly. She didn’t have to worry about grey hair because she frequently got it down, and she was sure she would have to frequently get it down whenever she did eventually perish too. “It’s much easier to be content with what you have, rather than what you don’t.” Or what you won’t have in however many years. Jane moved from the kitchen, shooting a glare as the step stool gave another rattle from his cage, and sat on the couch, patting next her as she reached for the remote. “Oh yeah? Enlighten me.”

Maybe it was the fact that he had already spent so much more time being dead than alive, but honestly, Harsh kind of preferred the way he was now. Humans were so squishy. There were so many things he had done that he never even would’ve tried if he wasn’t already dead. “Yeah, you’ve got a whole un-life ahead of you. People always get hung up on the bits that make it rough, but I wouldn’t go back if I could. I’m good this way.” He followed her, sinking down onto the couch next to her. “Mermaid all the way. I gotta show off this figure. If you got it, flaunt it, right?”

“I guess it all depends on what you go through,” Jane thought about Morgan. Lying on the beach, pretending to be dead didn’t exactly scream well adjusted and Morgan had admitted as much too. They clashed on how Jane thought about her bite, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t feel bad for what had happened to her. Jane pushed the thoughts away, though, and raised a glass. “I’ll toast to that,” she said, taking another sip of her drink as she flicked the TV onto Say Yes to the Dress: Atlanta.

Death Of The Bachelor

Chapter 4

    The next day you were in the back at the bar, running down an inventory log of what the bar needed so you could place an order when you heard the bell above the door in the main part go off. You set your pad and pencil down as you heard it chime again, looking at your watch you saw it was 10:30 am. Almost close enough for lunches.

     "Good morning." You stated coming from around back to see Steve and Bucky.

     "Morning, Y/n." Steve greeted you cheerfully as he sat down at the bar followed by Bucky who looked a little worse for wear.

    Steve looked as well groomed as he always did. Hair brushed back in that old 1940's way he always did but it seemed to work on him. Clean baby blue t that hugged his frame and muscles just perfectly and the same with antiqued denim jeans he was wearing. However, Bucky's hair was slightly messy and he seemed to be wearing the same clothes he had last night. His eyes were rimmed red and he hunched over at the door looking miserable.

    "Looks like someone is hungover." You chuckled as you pulled both bottles down.

     "Yeah, he was trying to out drink our pal Banner and that man is a beast." Steve laughed as clapped Bucky on the shoulder making him wince and glare at Steve out of the corner of his eye.

      "Banner was there? Was there any booze left over by the end of the night?" You chuckled as you slid them both a drink, Bucky pushed his back.

     "Water, please." He asked quietly, wincing as he spoke. You shook your head as you poured him a tall water.

      "Dude, hair of the dog, telling ya you'll feel better." Steve remarked before turning to face you again. "Oh, Yeah, Banner challenged Bucky here to a drinking game, and well, Bucky doesn't know Banner. Well didn't, and now he does."

      "Hey," You chuckled. "Leave the poor guy alone, not everyone knows how Banner drinks or how the hell a man his size can hold that much liquor."

      "Go ahead, make fun of the man with a killer hang over." Bucky groaned, slowly putting his head on the bar.

      "Where did you go last night, y/n? I went looking for you after I heard Bucky challenged Banner." Steve asked, turning his attention toward you.

     "Well, I was fired actually." You told him, giving him shrug.

     "What!" He stated, his eyes widening. "Why the hell did they fire you?"

    "Besides my coworker complaining, I had two complaints that I 'chumming it up towards the patrons' or some shit like that and refusal to serve." You stated, anger slipping in a bit. Maybe it still bugged you that you had been fired for something so ridiculously not true.

     "Seriously?" Steve asked, brows pinching together, you looked at the crown of Bucky's head since his face was still on the bar top.

      "Yep, except I didn't refuse anybody but I did tell someone that I was out of whiskey." You retorted still burning holes into the other man's head.

     "Fuck." Bucky hissed before lifting his head, wincing as he did. "That bitch."

     "What do you mean by that?" Steve asked suspiciously.

      "God, Mandy? Mindy, Veronica? I can't remember her name, the cute blonde that was all over me." Bucky started but you couldn’t help but chime in.

     "Ya know, the same one that was all over Sam a couple weeks back because she wants to marry a rich man so she doesn't have to work." You spat out with a smile, watching as Bucky narrowed his eyes at you.

     "She didn't like the fact that y/n was teasing with me. She got up right after you left and was gone for a bit before she came back and sat back down next me." Bucky explained. "I thought she went to the bathroom, I didn't realize what she was doing."

     "Doesn't matter, because of that I was fired. My boss was told if he didn't fire me, that nobody would ever use him for catering again." You told him and crossed your arms.

     "Dude, I'm sorry." Bucky said, as he gently set his head on his arm, while he leaned back down on the bar. "If I had known what she was doing I would of stopped her.

     "Meh, what's done is done. I hate catering those kind of events anyway." You shrugged as you left the two of them to go grab your inventory book that you had left in the back room.

"So how far back does that set you?" Steve yelled as you came back into the main part of the bar.

"How far back?" Bucky asked in a cranky voice his blues flicking back to his friend.

"Little miss amazing bar tender here is trying to buy an old historic building downtown, she wants to open her own bar." Steve explain, grinning and giving you a wink.

"A couple months, pretty close to having the down payment and closing costs. I've got another account set up for inventory and that's ready." You replied as you started counting bottle in the main part.

"Which building? There's only a dozen for sale." Bucky croaked, but starting to sound a bit more alive then dead.

"It's the one on main." Steve replied before you could speak.

"The big one? The one with brick facade, and the arched stained glass windows above the main level? It's a two story building, right? With the cool brick work." Bucky asked, sounding intrigued. You turned to face him, his whole demeanor had changed. He was alert and those deep blues were solely focused on you, the whole cool famous playboy facade was gone.

"Yeah, that's the one. I've been eyeing it for a couple years now." You replied with a smile. "It's been on the market for a bit now, Steve has been really good about not letting developers buy for demolition."

"Hey, you kept my butt out of jail so it's the least I can do." Steve shrugged with a smile.

"Okay, I gotta hear this." Bucky chuckled looking from Steve to you.

"Well, there was scuffle in the parking lot a couple years back. Steve was never much of hot head but he is never one to back down." You said grinning from ear to ear.

"Anyway, a politicians kid came into the bar causing issues, starting trouble." Steve added with a chuckle.

"So this kid challenges Steve here and asked him to go outside, and this idiot had been drinking for hours." You added.

"Guessing you got in a fight?" Bucky asked watching in amusement.

"Actually no, the kid goes outside and winds up in a fight with a guy that was part of a biker gang, Rumlow." You stated. "Put the kid in a coma for a couple days and when he woke up he swore up and down it was Steve."

"Y/n has excellent memory, except names, she remembered that day. When the kid went outside I went to the bathroom cause I need to puke my guts out." Steve stated. "Never drinking saki again, no matter how much Tony insists."

"Because the kid was the son of a politician the guy that did best the tar out of him end up behind bars for ten years." You told him, looking over at Steve. "His dad owns the building I want, and he's promised me one hell of deal. I've got the loan on hold cause I've got some stellar credit it's just I'm still not quite there with the rest."

"And that gig last night would of put you one step closer." Bucky sighed leaned back slightly in his seat. "What if someone were to invest in your bar?"

"What do you mean?" You asked raising your eyebrow at him.

"Say someone gave you the rest of the money, had just a little say and took just like 10% off the top." He stated, leaning forward on the bar.

"Dude, you don't think Sam or I have offered?" Steve asked looking over the brunette.

"With you or Sam it would be another loan, one she would have to pay back, this she would get to keep. I could continue to invest, no doubt that building is going to need some renovations." Bucky stayed, looking over at Steve and then back to you. "Plus if it does well enough, the there is the upstairs, what would do there? You could have just regular bar on the bottom and then a vip style club up top."

"A bar on top of a bar?" You asked looking from him to Steve.

"Think about it, the super rich don't like quaint bar like this, ones were blue collar workers go. The famous rich ones only go to VIP high end club style bars, you could have both in one building."

"Can I think about it first?" You asked looking back to Bucky who had a smile across his face. He licked his bottom lip as he grabbed a napkin and a Keno pencil. Quickly he scrawled his number out and handed over.

"Just let me know, either way. You would be the owner, I could be your manager."

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