#i started painting this years ago but i could never finish it because depression its a bitch

[blackleatherjacketz]

Favorite

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Female Reader

Summary: Santi figures out that Frankie came and saw you last night before he got a chance and makes you pay for it.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Mature Content, Exes Reuniting, Favoritism, Jealousy, Revenge Sex, Competition Kink, Praise Kink, Manipulation, Kissing, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Come Eating (Accidental), Female Orgasm, Vaginal Intercourse, Woman On Top, Multiple Orgasms

Word Count: 2.8k+

A follow-up to FIRST

Read more of my stories HERE!

The expected pleasantries with Santi are cut short as you lead him into your living room, the warm glow of the table lamp doing little to hide the mark his best friend had deliberately left on your neck for him to see. You silently watch his handsome features twist into a frown as he begins going through all five stages of grief in a matter of seconds, depression staying just long enough before denial quickly counters it.

“What is that?” He touches you as if he hadn’t stopped doing so for years, as if it were only a matter of days since he last walked through your front door and kissed you goodbye.

“It’s nothing.” You lie in order to keep his hands on you, to relish in that feeling of him physically caring for you like he did so long ago before he up and left. His fingers are warm against your skin, rough and calloused as they press into your cheek, turning your face to get a better look at the mark. It takes every ounce of self control for you not to touch him back, not to fall into the muscle memory of your intimate relationship that you never really had the chance to get over.

“Nothing, huh?” He rotates your face from side to side, placing his opposite hand on your shoulder to keep you steady as he carefully inspects your new bruise. “It sure as hell doesn’t look like nothing.” He loosens his grip on your chin.

“It’s just…” You wrack your brain for some kind of story to feed him, one that you might even believe enough to properly convince him of as well. Maybe you got distracted while you were curling your hair? Or maybe your massage therapist got a little carried away when they tried to do the new cupping technique? Or maybe…?

“Did Frankie drop by here last night?” He interrupts your thoughts with a slightly worried tambre. “Because he joked about coming over here after he dropped me off, but I didn’t think he was fucking serious.”

He looks up at you with those eyes, those eyes that could easily make you spill your guts within seconds of staring into your soul with their deep mahogany hue. Eyes that could lull you into a false sense of security, pulling you in just close enough for you to forget everything else around you. Eyes that could soften your heart at its hardest, change your mind, or make you agree to do things you normally wouldn’t want to do. Those eyes of his were much more powerful than you ever really gave them credit for.

“Did he come to see you?” He asks again, barely blinking.

Only you don’t answer; purposefully averting your gaze from his hypnotic stare. Maybe if you don’t look at him he won’t be able to see the truth that’s undoubtedly painted all over your face.

Silence.

He laughs to himself and brushes his palm over his face. “Aye pendejo,” he whispers under his breath. “I should’ve fucking known.”

“Santi, look, I…” you start without knowing where you could possibly finish.

“What? You think I’m fucking stupid?” Anger rears its ugly head as the tone in his voice starts to escalate. “You let him in here just like last time, huh?” He snaps his fingers before pointing in the direction of your bedroom. “Just like that? You let him slip in here even when you knew I was coming over here tonight?”

God, he looks so fucking good when he’s angry. There’s something about him getting all hot and bothered over another man beating him to the punch to get into your bed, even if it was his best friend; even if it had happened before. That territorial look in his eyes brings his face that much closer to yours, his full lips parting as they quickly fill with blood.

“You and I aren’t together anymore,” you remind him as his palm remains on your shoulder, his thumb gently brushing against your clavicle. “And how the hell was I supposed to know if you would actually come over tonight instead of just disappearing like you did last time?” You match his volume and intensity. “Huh?!”

More silence.

“I deserve that.” He hangs his head so you can clearly see the silver streaks as they weave into the rest of his charcoal curls. “Look, I know we’re not together anymore. I do. Of course I know that, but I just thought…” he sighs, pausing for what seems like an eternity. “But Frankie? Again? Really? No wonder he was asking who I was texting!”

“You can leave if you want to,” you goad him, bringing your face in closer with a tone you know will challenge him just enough to stay.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head and takes a second to chase away the disappointment by pushing you back up against the wall, keeping his grip tight on your shoulder. “He’d like that, wouldn’t he? Have his way with you without any repercussions?” He licks his lips as he stares at your hickey, running his thumb across your discolored skin. “Marking you like that.”

You can’t help but let a triumphant grin cross your face as you watch that seed of competition begin to grow within him, pounding through the veins in his temples as he stares at you intently.

“It doesn’t matter, anyways,” you say as his lips draw closer to yours. “He may have gotten here first, but that’s only because he knows that you’re my favorite.” You slide your knee up between his thighs, gently nudging his growing bulge as his lips part mere centimeters away from your own.

“Your favorite, huh?” His whisper dampens your lips as he smooths his palm across your shoulder until it reaches your neck, squeezing just affectionately enough to excite your senses.

Now we’re talking.

“He doesn’t know my body like you do, Santi.” You cup his face and stroke the stubble along his cheek as he continues holding onto your throat. “He doesn’t take his time with me like you always do, or put in the work to make my body crave you the very second that I see you...”

“Shut up.” His kiss cuts your words short, that all too familiar taste of cheap beer fresh on his tongue as it parts your lips with a hunger that rivals that of your early years together.

You find yourself nodding into his lips without uttering another word, bringing both hands up to cradle his face as he slides his other hand beneath your shirt. You moan into him as he palms the muscles in your lower back, pulling you in close to warm your core against his. You can feel his heart beating in rhythm with yours, thumping in his chest as the heat between you begins to rise.

“How many times did he fuck you, last night, huh?” He lets go of your throat and pulls your shirt off, dropping it at your feet before quickly kissing you again.

“Just once,” you answer breathlessly, the shade of your lipstick now tinting his lips as he kisses your chin and jaw.

“Mmm, so fucking lazy,” he mumbles into your neck with a slight chuckle. He suddenly shifts his weight and turns around with you, pushing you backward onto the couch. Forcing you to sit down in front of him, he digs his hooks into you one more time by locking onto you with those blackened, lustful eyes. He smirks and slowly starts unfastening his belt, pushing his pants down his thighs at an agonizing pace while you carefully watch him with bated breath. “Show me the rest of your body, baby.”

Chills run down your spine as you nod again in response, watching him free himself from his clothes, his girth always a sudden shock to your system no matter how many times you’ve seen it before. You can feel the moisture begin to pool between your thighs as you find yourself instinctively doing as you’re told, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs. You still can’t believe how lucky you are to have spun his jealousy around, unable to look away as he spits on his palm without breaking eye contact, stroking himself in such a languid, gratuitous manner.

“Let’s see how wet you get for your favorite, aye cariño?” He steps out of his shoes and pants before kneeling down in front of you.

The sight of his face between your thighs is almost more intoxicating than watching him stroke himself, his hooded lids adorned with lashes that brush your delicate skin as he presses kisses into your knees all the way up your inner thighs. Those eyes of his finally close as his mouth reaches your needy center, a muffled moan leaving his lips as he eagerly tastes your arousal. A ripple of pleasure moves its way up your body, pulsing through your core and up into your spine as he licks a slow, torturous stripe up your soaking wet length.

“Just what I thought.” He runs two fingers up and down your puffy lips before spreading them apart, focusing solely on the dew that clings between them. “You get this wet for Frankie last night?”

“No,” you can barely breathe your answer as he dips his fingertips into your entrance to collect the evidence, spreading it up and over your clit.

It isn’t until just now that you remember Frankie’s words from before: ‘I want him to taste my come when he goes down on you tomorrow night’; a promise that sounded more like a threat at the time. Was it possible that Frankie could still be oozing out of you even now? Changing the way you taste to your former lover? Or had your own juices been enough to disguise the remnants of his release as Santi painstakingly splays you open?

Guess you’ll never know.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” He raises an eyebrow as he runs his fingers back down, delving them deep inside your walls without warning.

“Never,” you admit with a gasp, holding your breath as the ridges of his calloused fingers glide over that special spot inside, pushing and pulling against it as his thumb rubs slow, tantalizing circles into your swollen bud.

“Good.” His tongue quickly takes over again, greedily lapping up your slick in a perfectly blissful pattern, his spit now mixing with your sex and Santi’s release as it drips out of you and down the crevices between your cheeks.

His unmatched oral skills nearly send you into a dreamlike state as that ripple from before spreads throughout your entire body. It wades through your nervous system, expanding in diameter as it reaches new heights and widths, washing over you in varying waves of delight. The rhythm of his fingers speeds up as your hips roll into them, instinctively moving with the rush of ecstasy he sucks into your clit by eventually pulling it into his mouth and past his teeth.

Without even stopping to take a breath, his mouth massages that last bit of pleasure into your deliciously sensitive bud without an ounce of mercy. His groans vibrate against your skin as your body trembles beneath him, succumbing to his expert ministrations as you find yourself drowning in the euphoria that only he could deliver in such a skilled, efficient manner. You cry out his name as that delectable feeling rips through you in a matter of seconds, bursting through every vein and artery in your body until the waters inside you eventually ebb to a calm, still state.

“I almost forgot how beautiful you look when I make you come.” He finally says, looking up at you with a satisfied grin as your moisture glistens across his face.

“Jesus,” you huff, nearly jolting away as he pulls his fingers out, grazing them over your clit one more time before rising to his feet. “I almost forgot how good you are at that.”

“Better than our boy Frankie?” He sits down next to you on the couch and grabs onto your hips, pulling you onto his lap in one fluid motion.

“Are you kidding?” You try to catch your breath as you settle onto the tops of his thighs, not yet ready for his cock as it stands at full attention against his stomach. “He didn’t even do that for me.”

“Amateur,” Santi whispers before kissing you, taking the time to spread your flavor into every corner of your mouth as his hands delicately venture up your backside and into your hairline.

You could almost convince yourself that things were how they used to be when you’re facing him like this, kissing each other as if you’re dying to know what each other tastes like for the very first time. You could get lost in the smell of his sweat and cologne that haven’t changed in all these years, relish in the warmth of his hands as they caress your shaking muscles, and delight in the distinct taste of his kiss. If you tried hard enough, you could almost convince yourself that you still slept together in the same bed, lived in the same house and ate your meals at the same time together; but all that had come and gone. All you have now is this.

“Mmm, you taste so good,” you mumble to bring yourself out of that unhelpful line of thinking, playfully running your fingers through his hair.

“Of course I do, I taste like your pussy.” He nips at your bottom lip before kissing you again, giving you another opportunity to savor that tartness between your legs before suddenly pulling away. “Now why don’t you hop on and prove to me that I’m your favorite.”

Wow.

Trying your best not to act too shocked at his words, you nod and lift your hips off his thighs as he grabs hold of himself at the base, stroking the few droplets of precum over his shaft as he takes you in. He looks up as you move your pelvis forward, grinning from ear to ear as you attempt to line yourself up with him, only he keeps moving against you.

“You wanna act like a little slut, huh?” He glides his cock across your overstimulated bud before lining up with your entrance, watching your mouth fall slack with each pass as every neuron in your body ignites again. “Well, you’re my little slut.” He brushes over it another time, forcing your eyes to roll back into your head as bright stars start flashing in the background of your vision. “Right?”

“Right!” You moan as he finally guides himself into your entrance, pulling you down with his other hand on your hip.

He groans as you slowly envelop him, your freshly lubricated walls already contracting around his girth as it stretches you out more than Frankie ever could. With a whisper of your name, his breath quickens as you take him in completely, your thighs now flush against his before you gather the strength to sit up again. He smooths both hands up and down your spine as you begin to ride him, mewling his name against his forehead as those stars become brighter behind closed lids.

He squeezes the base of your neck as he bottoms out again, thrusting up into you with a sort of frantic desperation you’ve never seen in him before. Every buck of his hips forces those stars in your eyes to become brighter, to shine in blinding shades of different colors as they spin around on their axes. You hear him grunt something in Spanish, the last of his sounds becoming more breathy as he sends pulse after pulse of heated pleasure shooting up through your nervous system until his thrusts force your body to convulse around him.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he lets slip as he pulls you down one last time, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing against the walls of your living room as he spasms and twitches inside you with a pathetic growl.

“I love you, too,” your innate reaction to his words comes without thinking, your current state hijacking any common sense that might make you respond differently.

Instead of correcting himself or apologizing, he leaves his words hanging in the air, just as naked and bare as he is now as he finishes spilling himself inside of you. He kisses you even deeper, pulling you further into him as if to merge the two of your bodies into one until his thrusts eventually slow to a complete stop.

Continuing to ignore his sudden confession, he rests his head against your chin and guides his palms over the curves of your body as the aftershock of your shared orgasm phases through you both. He hums the tune of your favorite song as he continues smoothing out all the gooseflesh that had formed on your skin until both of your breathing has steadied.

“I’m sorry I left.”

[starlitangels]

In honor of the 100k, let me tell a little story. Which, I’m aware, I do all the time as a fanfic writer XD But this one is my story

The story of how I got here, anyway.

I’ve been writing stories since I was 8 years old. They weren’t good, back then, and the older I got, the more I wrote but the less I could focus on one thing. I write one-shots for a reason. I have a hard time finishing multi-chapter fics—especially if I start them with no clue where they’re going or what’s gonna happen in the middle. I had (who am I kidding? have) dozens of novel ideas sitting in my hard drive nowhere near completed because I struggle so hard to focus

When I was 16, I discovered fanfiction. I started with long-forms and slowly transitioned over to one-shots as I made a little nook for myself on Tumblr when I was about 18. I’ve never really looked back. I still write my original projects sometimes. Some weeks they consume my life.

But back in October-November (2021), when I was barely a few months out of a long medication-induced depression (yay side effects), I wasn’t writing. At all. It’s been my only major hobby since I was 14. I still do other stuff like paint and doodle and knit, but writing has always been where my creativity liked to play. Not writing and not knowing what to write and not having anything to write that felt inspiring was making me spiral.

Not externally. My husband never noticed and I never told him. It wasn’t a big deal. Feeling “burned out” over a hobby that did little more than while away a few hours of my day wasn’t a big deal on the outside

But on the inside I was panicking. What if the thing I’d spent the last, like, fifteen years of my life doing suddenly lost all its joy and I never wrote again? What if I never felt excited enough about something to pour my soul into a bunch of one-shots again? What if I never found relief and release from writing again? (Writing is also my therapy and helps me process my emotions and the world around me)

I was so, so damn scared that I was about to lose all the passion I’d ever had for the only hobby I’d ever really spent the time trying to develop. Because... what would I be without my words? Who was I, without writing?

One night, in late November, I couldn’t sleep. I’ve always had trouble sleeping, so that alone wasn’t much different from usual.

I’ve been listening to ASMR since my freshman year of college. My apartment was right next to the freeway and I couldn’t sleep without my headphones in but music was usually too much. I started with, like, Guided Meditation channels before I found ASMR and that tingly feeling I get in certain situations finally had a label and I realized it wasn’t just me that got that feeling (trying to explain it to my family was... next to impossible—none of them get the response). I moved from ASMR videos to the audio-only stuff... my junior or senior year of college after discovering SalemAudio and Hollow_ VA. A few other channels joined as the next couple years came through. Namely Ycey Narrates, Siren’s Son ASMR, and Good Boy Audios.

Not long after those three joined my subscribed list, I started getting recommended “Redacted ASMR.” I know now that the ones I was getting recommended were Sam’s videos. At the time I was hesitant to click on any of them because I know I’ve got a Lore Gremlin brain and I didn’t want to get consumed by needing to know all the lore with none of my old passion behind it, the way I was moving through the rest of my life. And, also, I saw the “Parental Advisory” label that gets slapped onto music album art in all the thumbnails and was hesitant that there might be... uncomfortable subject matter, I guess is the phrasing I’ll use.

Back to that late night in November.

I was scrolling through recommended videos under some ASMR audio-only I’d just listened to (Ycey, I think?), and saw a video titled “Listening In On Your Boyfriend’s Thoughts” published “1 Day Ago” and with Telepath Listener in the thumbnail.

That caught my attention because I wanted to know how someone would pull off telepathy in an audio medium.

So, I clicked it.

And I loved it.

And I wanted more of it.

So, I started listening to more and more of this channel. I’ve always been a fantasy-lover, and the magic system hooked me in immediately.

And my passion came back. I wanted to write again. I felt inspired. I fell in love with the characters and the world and the magic (both literally and figuratively) in that world. And there’s been so much variety that I never feel bored

And everyone in the Tumblr fandom helped too. I’ve mentioned before that I never got the response I get here in any other fandom I’ve ever been in and that’s 100% true. I’ve made friends in this fandom—people engage with me and send me random headcanons—and draw the Pups I made up completely unsolicited just because they liked the thing I made (never happened to me before and I’m still wowed by it)!!! 

And that has helped me so much. I feel like my writing is worth something again. It’s always been worth something to me, but the point of art for me has always been to share it with others. I grew up surrounded by music and art and stories. I was always taught that art is for yourself, but it’s also for sharing.

And you guys have enthusiastically let me share my art (both the... mediocre doodles and the one-shots) with you and been so kind and welcoming and engaging with me.

So... yeah. This is the first time in years I’ve found a story that has made me really want to dig in and write for it, and every single person who’s been kind to me since I turned up here has had a bigger part to play in that than they might know.

I recognize your URLs when you ‘like’ my stories. I smile like a giddy schoolkid every time someone clearly just found my blog and scrolled either the blog itself or my fic tag with reckless abandon, ‘liking’ everything in their path I cannot express to you properly how much that makes me smile. I still get surprised when people respond to questions I post or just send me asks unsolicited with headcanons or TikToks that are absolutely the Redacted characters or my Pups omg—because Tumblr used to just be me screaming into a void. Now I feel like people actually enjoy my presence to some degree, and that is so fulfilling to someone like me

So thank you all. It’s been a short but wild ride, and here’s to it being much longer, and just as wild!

I’ve told bits-and-pieces of this story before on this blog, but here’s the raw truth of it.

[timmyballgame]

Last week I faced two different moments of loss. Each loss was not entirely unexpected. One loss was true tragic loss that we all experience. The other was a loss which in all reality represented a win. Each loss represented a finish line in life, a dividing line between before and after on a journey. These two losses are connected yet quite different.

The first loss, was a dear friend Mark Goodwin aka Goody died, he had suffered a stroke in early May and died in rehab care. The prognosis was never good, the shock of his loss was tempered by the reality of he was not going to recover. At best the doctors thought he would be a quadriplegic with limited to no speech capacity. Knowing my friend, the lifestyle he enjoyed this was not going to end well which helps accept his loss.

My other loss has connections to my friend and his ultimate path to loss. Goody's health problems that caused the stroke, trace back to a life time of abuse and addiction racking his body. He was clean and sober after years of hard living. Lost his wife, child and license before facing the addiction. Unfortunately he turned to food, replacing one sugar addiction for another. He was on addiction two when I met him 18 years ago. We fueled each other, had a grand old time. Each of us would get wake up calls from doctors, short lived clean ups, then back down the rabbit hole.

Then he was struck with a back injury, which cascaded into deep depression. Eventually he retreated from the world. Took early retirement via disability further shuttering himself away. This when I slipped into my classic mode of going to fix this broken person, the corner of the room I most often paint myself into. Try as I could I could not get him to come out. I made simple plans just to walk with him, told him I would walk the driveway with him. Drove down to his house, only for him to say go away. Kept trying, there were a few times it worked, made the hour drive to his house, got him out, others had some success. Then one day he called, wanted to walk Revere Beach. I jumped on it, he met me at the beach, all signs looked good, then the addiction struck back, he didn't want to walk, he wanted to hit Kelly's Roast Beef stand for a lunch on me. So I bought, and ate because why not? My classic move fail at fixing someone, setting a goal that is beyond reason and then eating the pain of failure. Two addicts ate well that day.

Goody took a selfie of us, under the famous Kelly's sign, two very obese men in a victory lap as the toilet chain of life is being pulled.

But something changed in me that day, a spark that finally landed home. The first steps of my new path began that lead to the second loss.

The Good loss, the one that was a win. I started my sobriety bid, failed, stumbled, picked myself up, changed two things in my life, the way I ate and most importantly I started helping people not fixing people. For the rest of his life, I helped my friend, not saved or fixed just helped, never bought him another meal either. He moved to Florida last year. His depression had finally lifted. Classic pulling his life together cliches applied for a while, then he fell off the food wagon, depression returned. He rallied and decided to go on a cruise. His last post to FB talked about his butler helping him find the Celtics games while on the ship. And then he was gone after the short linger last Monday. On Friday I stepped on the scale and had my good loss, I had dropped the final weight to be .6oz below my goal weight I had set after that last Kelly's roast beef non beach walk.

Now addiction is a mother f'er that keeps circling back. Ever vigilance is needed before this good loss turns into a bad loss. I have had a minor takespin this past week of two losses. I have bent not broken, that is the key isn't it, strength is not in being so ridged you break, no its being a willow tree, letting movement be the strength to with stand the storm.

As with all loss of loved ones, I will miss my friend dearly, but will be forever grateful to have know him and learned from him, even if it was one of life's hardest lessons turning loss into a win.

[trckingtime]

It's been almost a year since i painted this (ig: trckingtime)

[nincompoopydoo]

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— US AGAINST THE WORLD ; PART 4 / ?

( credits to @animusrox for this gif )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2247 hot diggy dog

SUMMARY: You have a heart-to-heart conversation with one of your students before the play and you're hit with the realization that your love for Bruce may be more than meets the eye. hence, you’re starting to wonder if it was a mistake you can never fix.

A/N: This one’s long and kinda depressing. I’m in an angsty mood now whoops. Nevertheless, thank you for reading this series, the bagels will make its appearance and enjoy this one folks.

WARNINGS: Anxiety, depressing thoughts.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

The night of the show arrived quicker than you anticipated. The flurry of theatre kids rushing about backstage is quite the sight, feeling the incredible sense of pride of a mother for her children. Yet in prayer, you ask Mrs. Wilson for the gift of strength and ability to manage a bunch of highly-strung teenagers. It’s only Shakespeare after all but you knew that wasn’t the genuine nature behind their stage jitters. With all tickets sold out within a week, it has easily become the biggest event of the year aside from homecoming. It may be a little pretentious for a high school production of an over-performed Shakspeare play to emerge as the highlight of the year, but you know it will help with some of the students’ portfolios for acting school.

The clock ticks—thirty minutes before showtime and panic starts to creep.

Your fingertips dance along the selvage of the extensive drapery of the stage as lighting queues are being run through for the last time. The urge of curiosity lets you crack open the curtain as you peeked at the rest of the theatre. The bustling crowd made up of mostly teenagers with seats rapidly being filled, it’s certainly a sight for sore eyes. Amongst the settling audience, you spot Bruce, seated between Mr. Walken, the principal, and Mr. Huckleberry, the vice-principal, likely being shamelessly asked for donations. He looks engaged, but his posture and the gaze of his eyes tell a very different story—Bruce is barely listening to a word they’re saying.

He then turns in the direction of your hiding spot and despite the distance, he catches your eye, immediately recognizing it’s you spying from behind the curtains. You watch the curve of his lips turn up into more of a smirk, swiftly sending a wink your way. You instantly disappear behind the curtains, cheeks burning.

You sometimes find it hard to believe you’re sleeping with the man with no strings attached because you’re incredibly attracted to him.

Someday, you’ll burst out into an exaggerated love confession, and you know it’s going to be ugly. It’s a reality check and right now, it’s the last thing you want. Running away from your problems is more of a habit than a choice as you would rather live in the world your mind has created, where miracles are made and defects cease to exist. Anyone would trade the cruelties of reality for a perfect one yet getting too caught up in a daydream will eventually evolve into toxicity. Bruce orbits the very core of your problems and daydreams. You want to run away from him and allow yourself to be engulfed by his presence at the same time.

You just need...to breathe. Hence, the second dressing room has a weird stench to it. It’s a mess but it’s empty. Yet, it seems you aren’t the only one in need of space, away from everyone else. Shaniqua is seated at the far corner of the room on a crooked metal chair, dressed in a somewhat modernized version of an Elizabethan era dress. Very elaborate and theatrical. Despite her introverted character, she was constantly bright-eyed and keen during your classes. She had a drive like no other. Hell, she miraculously memorized all her lines in two days.

You’ve never seen a furrow of the girl’s brows, until now, and it worries you. Even her glitter-covered eyes could not conceal the dismay they portray with prominence. Gingerly, you made your way to her as she stared at her fidgeting hands. It was only when you settled on the opposite dusty old chair when she finally noticed your presence.

“Stage fright, huh?” you casually asked, resting your arm on the dressing table. She mirrors your posture, heaving a deep sigh, and shakes her head. “No, it’s just,” A pause, her gaze finds yours. You nod, flashing her a smile. It’s a simple gesture that you’re here to listen. “It’s about Oscar...” You catch a hint of a smile as she trailed off and in an instant, your brow raises with curiosity. Oh? Another beat of silence, her eyes dart around the room. You sit quietly with patience because you knew she had more to say.

“It’s just that doing this play has got me thinking a lot about my feelings. I mean, if Romeo and Juliet could be lovers, despite their feuding families, then it must be easy enough for me to admit that I like Oscar.”

“You have a point.” You chuckle, eyes crinkling with amusement. Sometimes she thinks too much for her own good. She reminds you of Bruce. Shaniqua flashes you a faint smile, lips pressed with doubt. “But why am I finding it so hard to just tell him that?”

You stayed silent for a moment or two, mind deep in thought. The chair creaks as you shift in your seat. “Well, could it be that you aren’t sure if he likes you back?”

A hum in response, shrugging coyly as she mumbled a ‘maybe’. Although it was clear as day to you that Oscar liked her back, you wondered if her doubts emerged due to their differences in character. The familiarity of the situation is beginning to feel a lot like deja vu.

“How do you know that someone is the one?” Her sudden question catches you off guard because, in all honesty, you aren’t confident if you knew the answer. A straightforward question, commonly seen in the pages of teenage magazines, written for innocent eyes. You knew its true nature and it terrifies you. The image of Bruce charges through your thoughts like rushing water, memories of times when the two of you were younger clouding your mind. You forcefully push back your university days, buried back deep into your conscience.

“I don’t exactly know the answer to that but in my opinion, it’s—it’s the feeling of completeness when you love them and know they love you. They may be different from you, but it doesn’t make you love them any less. There’s no conflict or strife; it’s just the two of you against the world.”

Those words were raw and genuine, carefully crafted directly from the heart. You weren’t surprised by your words because you’ve thought about it a lot, especially on nights you slept on Bruce’s bed. Maybe, you do love him, and that's a huge ass problem. It’s amazing how unexpected situations tend to encourage apprehension on large issues you never knew existed in the first place. Perhaps it was your astonishing lack of discernment when it came to matters that could potentially alter your life.

Tonight, a sixteen-year-old girl did just that.

Amid your growing anxiety, you manage to catch sight of the wall clock, hung on the other side of the room. It’s now eight minutes until showtime. Your eyes are now wide as you sprung up from your seat in the sudden realization that everyone should be at their respective positions two minutes ago. “Oh God, we’re running late. Shaniqua, word of advice—don’t end up regretting something you didn’t do,” You shoot her a pointed look, index finger stretching towards her. “Now, you really need to go, or we’ll have to delay and you know Mr. Walken hates waiting.”

-

It’s a quarter to nine, and the theatre is empty. Outside, the foyer and the hallways are buzzing with the remaining audience, lingering and sharing inane conversations as others wait for a car to take them home. You had only just finished rearranging the costumes in the wardrobe of the dressing room. You tried to sweep the scatter of glitter all over the floor but it deemed a task as impossible; you’ll deal with it next week.

You’re sitting in the seat at the front row, nearest to the aisle with a large box filled with props on your lap. Alone in transcendental silence, feeling as empty as the theatre itself. It was partly the conversation you had with Shaniqua that hit you with the reminder of all the mistakes you made that have led you to this unchanging world of a blur that takes the blame for the wretched feeling in your chest. Yet, as the show progressed, hearing the words of affection from two lovers had sent your mind reeling. You were desperate to head home, crawl into bed and potentially cry yourself to sleep but the growing anxiety forbids it, you don’t even think you could drive home.

So, you stillness of the theatre reminds you of Edward Hopper’s painting, Solitary Figure in a Theater. With eyes shut, you pretend you are the figure in the painting, sheathed in black, sitting alone in the cavernous dark.

You hear the door of the theatre squeak, swinging open followed by the shuffling of feet. You don’t look at first, too tired anyway. You’d assume someone had either forgotten something or it was the janitor that you’re sure is going to be upset over the glitter massacre in the dressing room. It looked like a crime scene, except it was the murder of a literal unicorn. You made a mental note to send an apology sandwich of some sorts next week.

It was the familiarity in the whiff of cologne that made you snap your eyes wide open, looking over your shoulder to meet with the sight of Bruce, ambling down the aisle towards you. He smiles, and you mirror him, shifting in your seat and nearly toppling the box to the ground. “What are you still doing here?” He smiles, and you mirror him, shifting in your seat and nearly toppling the box to the ground. “I could ask you the same question.” He settles in the seat next to you, elbow brushing against yours. Your head tilts, gesturing to the box. Bruce merely hums and nods thoughtfully.

“So, how was the play? Does it get a Wayne seal of approval?” There’s a hint of teasing in the curve of your lips as his eyes drift to the stage. “I liked it. The kids have talent.” Your eyes glint with amusement, your smile growing wider. “I never knew you were a fan of romance.” His laugh comes out more like a huff of air, crinkled eyes meeting yours, and nudges you lightly. “Well, now you know.”

He recognizes the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes and the way you’re fussing with the edges of the box on your lap. Something is bothering you and he knows it. He nudges you once more. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You blink once. Then twice, face wincing instinctively. You keep forgetting how well Bruce can read people, especially you. You exhale slowly as he watches you struggle to pick the right words.

“It’s really nothing. It’s just-” you say after a long minute, cutting yourself short. Then, you turn to Bruce. “I’m growing older, and I’ve spent my entire life in a fog with so much fear for reality, I’m afraid it’s too late to fix all my mistakes and regrets.” Your voice dwindles with every word that escaped your lips. You were young, naïve with the notion that time was extensive to make decisions without thinking it through. To know that you could never take back the things you did. Saturn’s rising, it’s a wake-up call now that you’re older and the fear that you would never change creeps onto you with every passing birthday.

Bruce defines the epitome of the sinking feeling in your chest whenever you lay in bed at night and let your mind reel about your existence. Yet, it isn’t as simple as you want it to be. The boy you met at university has grown into a far more complex and entangled mess of the grief of his parents, the responsibility he held over this city and the drive to just...keep moving on. For the longest time, it was him against the world, and a part of you wants to believe that it doesn’t have to be that way. That maybe, you could be enough for him.

He glanced away from you, trying to hide the despondency in his eyes. He holds back a sigh as he speaks, “Do you regret us doing this?” As vague as his question is, you know what he exactly means. He remembers the time the two of you used to exchange senseless conversations and laughter so vividly that it scares him. Juvenile friends, lacking the knowledge to know what love really was. Hence, the agreement—it was just two friends, messing around. Nothing could go wrong. Now, the hole has been dug in too deep, with no way of getting out.

“I don’t,” you reply and with just two simple words, his chest feels like fire. It was the way you had said it, with so much confidence and assurance, despite the intricacy of this relationship. For the first time in a long time, you were extremely sure about an answer. You could never regret Bruce. Never.

It’s almost hesitant in the way his hand finds yours, but it represents his care for you, even if you may not know it. The warmth of his hand feels like fire. Hell, your chest feels like it’s on fire, heart burning for the man beside you. “I’ll drive you home,” he whispers with a squeeze of your hand. You flash him a grateful smile as the two of you drift into a comfortable silence. Silence so eloquent that you don’t feel so empty anymore. No longer a solitary figure trapped in a painting but now two, hand in hand, against the world.

TAGLIST

@raineeace

[namjoonchronicles]

closure |nj

↳ pairing namjoon, reader

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship, melodrama

↳ words 3,775k

↳ summary some stories aren't meant to be understood, they're just written to be heard.

↳ warning depression; major death of side character, suicide

↳ song 'feel something' by clairo, 'to love someone else' by avery lynch, 'chernobyl' by alec bailey

Truly, the nights are filled with unspoken stories. When he took your hand in his and looked deep into your eye with those soft concerned gaze, you were home. He cupped your chin, curled a strand of your hair behind your ear and studied your entire face.

“What’s that look?” his voice swam in your semi-consciousness, “I know that look. That look pains me, takes me to the edge, makes me curl my toes, that look…”

Your eyes flutter wondrously at his lashes, his Cupid’s bow and supple lips, along with a stricken smile you asked him quizzically, “I am alright, you have nothing to worry about…”

Namjoon thumbed your cheek and it traced down to your smile line, the curve at the edge of your lips, and you know he felt the trembles as you forced the smile. Namjoon’s eyes trail up to meet yours again, he starts chewing the insides of his cheek, hollowing them.

“You are faking the smile,” and he softens when he sees your eyes gleaming with tears. Upon this, he collected your head into his arms and cushioned by his chest. He passes a long lingering kiss atop of your head, cradling your head while your arms are low on his hip, trying to barely hold on. At the time, he felt like a pillar, holding you together in all your ruins. His stature, the scent of his aftershave, the makings of his shirts and the smell of his skin— it all rushed over your senses like a tsunami. The kind of comfort he was, such a calming presence for a cyclone-bearing human you were.

Rush of emotions. It builds up.

And up.

And up.

And overflows.

You are an enigma Namjoon is scrambling to find out. A tough shell of a crab, with walls built high and thick. Like a lost traveler with a single map that’s ever changing in its path, ever evolving— you were that map. The verandah's wooden panel wet from the late afternoon rain, the hammock under the small roof at the edge, lay static in its place until Namjoon put his enormous weight on it. One leg dangling out, arm spread and waiting for you to grab them. He bracketed your waist and lifted you from the floor and into his lap like a child. He has a bottle of soda by the side, its lid snapped open. Laying your back on his hard, defined pectoral chest, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulder somewhat lifted a bit. Namjoon knows, and he knows this without you saying a word— he knows that you had been fighting many battles alone, and with yourself. The battles had wrung you out, strewn you in and silenced you. Constantly, insistently the world is demanding a piece of you to give out. At this place and time, it seemed incredibly impossible to be at complete peace. You could almost give in— tempted to lay in defeat. You gave it your all, and they gave you nothing.

“It’ll hurt for awhile, but it will get better,” you suddenly broke the silence. Namjoon hummed back, either confused or surprised at the sudden remark. You turned sideways and up, to look at the view of his jaw. He tips his head back, drinking down the soda in his left hand. The thin fabrics of his sleeveless tanks, left almost nothing to the imagination. He tutted his tongue in response to what you said.

“That’s a nice saying…” his voice dropped an octave lower when he is relaxing like this with you. You were the few humans in the world he would appreciate silence with. You switched to face him, him between your legs as you sat up with a big gaping smile on your face, disbelieved.

“You’re the one who told me that…” emphasizing on him. You filled the gaps between his legs with your own, sandwiched as you sat opposed to him. Your toes next to his head and him grinning like he kept a secret from the world. After much struggle to get comfortable, you said,

“You told me that when my grandmother passed away that night in January… I remember it clearly, just like it was yesterday…

I was in the elevator with her lifeless body on the casket and not a drop of tears left my eye…

I started wondering if there was something wrong with me…”

Namjoon wrapped his palm over your ankles— the ankles you hated so much because you think they are unappealing, he thumbs the protruding bone affectionately, brought it to his stomach and started massaging it with his free hand. All the while you were reminiscing.

“And you told me that I was so hurt, I couldn’t cry. How I am used to fabricating my pain for the sake of others… that when I was expected to cry, I couldn’t. And wouldn’t. How I took being strong quite literally…” Your voice slowed down, your eyes casted to the view of his fingers, nimbling over your skin.

“And today, the same thing happened… but today, I chose not to be too strong,” you held your breath for a moment, and exhaled shakily. The emotions aren’t all gone; the remnants are still here, clinging on you like a stubborn stain on the wall left by the old frames that were no longer there. Coiling around you like a shadow at every hint of bright light. The guilt was paralyzing you to the point of tears.

“A friend of mine was taken today…” you painted a smile on your face but Namjoon didn’t etch one, one bit. His fingers stopped massaging briefly, before it continued.

“You’ve met him once, if you remembered, his name is Hoseok,” you wiped a single drop of tear, “He was a firm owner, a lawyer. We met at the convention…”

“... back in 2015.” Namjoon finished your sentences.

At the 2015 International Pharmaceutical Convention, 7 years ago...

Flourishing, the crowd of intelligent people came in with a big proud smile, wearing lanyards of their company. Blazers, heels, jewelries, research posters, new pharmaceutical breakthroughs, projects and investors circles. The big pharma are divided in sections.

Walking toward the condiments vendor for a quick refreshment, you were approached by a man. Tall, his face turned away from your view as he was speaking to another colleague. He hijacked your turn to access the vendors, unknowingly, and you weren’t exactly the kind to speak up when a stranger does this to you, so you backed away a little and forced out a smile, gazing down at your toes.

“Hey, I think I know your name…” this mysterious figure suddenly says, “Still letting others go first before you, huh?” In such a friendly tone, your mind began racing to decipher his voice and face when you shot your gaze up to meet his. The same disarming smile, perfectly lined teeth and just the right amount of cologne, wafted around your nose— was a face familiar from the years back.

“Hoseok? Jung Hoseok?” he mentions his name after a long pause from you.

You were tongue-tied, mind-riddled from such a sudden meeting. You were unprepared and it must have shown all over your face the way he hisses away, wearing a lopsided smile and gruffly saying, “Don’t be like that… Do you really not know me? Have I mistook you for someone else?” He suddenly shifted his weight to another foot, crossed his arm and placed his forefinger under his chin, gazing at the corner of the massive hall, thinking.

“Ankles, and that old wristwatch, it’s definitely you…” his pondering face switches to a cheerful smile in a matter of seconds and you could not have been even more right that this was your old friend whom you hadn’t contacted in years. All the way back in college.

“Oh my, it’s you…!” You gasped, trying to recover from the embarrassing delay, “Wow, you look amazing… How are you! How have you been?”

Hoseok exchanged your late recalling with a burst of laughter of his own.

“I own a firm now,” you heard him say. It was the first thing he said, and it showed just how much pride he took in it. Which was fair. Back then he was struggling to find his footing, trying to find a job and getting rejected at interviews— it was you whom he shared those stories with. Over late night coffee, late night conversations and texts; he talks about his days, sharing with you his strange humors. You were glad that he finally found what he liked to do; at least that's what you assumed he liked because you clearly remembered that he had different interests.

“So what about the photography business? Your freelance job?” you hesitantly asked.

You could see how his smile and whole stature faltered briefly at the mention of it. You knew that his family was against it— was against anything that isn’t bringing back money— passion or not, it wasn’t something his family wanted him to do. Besides, his father’s firm needs managing, and what other way to continue the business if not having a son that is doing law as well.

“Folded,” his cheeks puffed and deflated, “Sold everything including the antique camera, the analogues, the films… everything.”

Your heart thudded strangely. You knew just how much he loved photography. It was the reason why you both got close back then. Your passion to everything artistic and his passion to capture everything beautiful. You remember so well, how his face lights up at the mention of photography, how he was so willing to teach you how to use the cameras you’ve never seen, and how he shares all his work with you, including the new one he was currently working on. You had access to all of his digital work and manuscript. And it was unfortunate that all these had to go away, leaving nothing to the memory. Nothing to hold close. It probably killed him as well. But what could he have done?

“How about you?” the conversation now shifts to your side. You twisted the ring around your ring finger and showed it to him.

“Awesome!” He gleams. So delighted.

“He is here somewhere, I don’t know where he went… but he should find me in a few minutes,” you looked around.

“You were getting something from the vendor?” Hoseok asked, but you shook your head. You don’t feel like drinking now.

Hoseok gradually finds out how your life is, where you’ve worked and places you’ve been.

“And you met Namjoon at work?”

“Pretty much, he is in the investors group. We met once, talking about a big pharma project and he was one of the champions supporting the good cause, so I owed him a lot,” you shrugged as to say, the rest is history.

“So he made you marry him to pay up all your emotional debts?” Hoseok jokes.

“Not exactly but… you know how I am. I can be very difficult to convince, especially when I am so comfortable with the lifestyles I already have. I dread to be a housewife so when he understood that, everything else falls into place,” you added and caught a tall figure walking along the hallway, dashing in his slick back hair, lanyards dangling.

Blazers flailing, white dress shirt and slacks make up the shapes of his defined abs and thighs. He walks with his head hanging slightly downwards as if he was trying not to catch anyone’s attention but was failing. Everyone turned their head towards him the moment he stepped inside the hall.

He stopped midway and tugged his left sleeve back. His Patek Phillipe Nautilus shimmering handsomely under the spotlight as he studied the time. He lifts his eyes up to scan the room through his brows and pursed lips, wondering where his wife was at the promised time.

You raised your arm slightly and the smoldering figure of a man twitches a big smile and a small bite on his lower lip, making his way to you. Completely aware about the man that was nearby you as he plants a chaste, enveloping kiss on your lips.

“This is Namjoon, Kim Namjoon…” You placed your hand on the small of his back and he reached out to Hoseok first for a handshake, again, his wristwatch peeking out when he covers the handshake with the left hand.

“Sweetheart, this is Hoseok, Jung Hoseok. He is a lawyer…” you introduced them both and Hoseok handed him his name card. Namjoon waits for you to further elaborate how you seemed so friendly with this man. And you can’t say that Hoseok was in-fact your old best friend whom you cut connections with because you’ve had feelings for him when he was in love with someone else. So you say, “An old friend.”

You sighed in relief when Namjoon didn’t catch the extended pause, but you can’t help thinking that he might question more later in the ride home. But for now, Namjoon’s bright smile seems to captivate the whole room’s attention. Small talks, and brief discussion about the direction of the convention and what he thinks about it, comes naturally. But he makes sure you don’t feel left out by the conversation by constantly adding your pharma company name in the picture.

“Had it not been my darling, the company would have gone downhill with their outdated scheduling methods and utter refusal to accept reformations according to modernization,” Namjoon added, and while he says so, so professionally and with full alluring prospects of a seasoned business man, his hand was trailing down the curve of your ass and gently squeezing them— out of Hoseok’s sight. Had you been a terrible pretender, you would have moaned out of context. You can thank your overflowing control for that. You were also cursing his name in the back of your mind and he will have an earful of it when you get home later.

“She single-handedly save the multi-billionaire company from their biggest downfall from the company’s incompetent leader,” Hoseok added, “Also they had a lot of legal issues at the time. I was in-charge of the corporate files before they shifted to joint-venture with Daehan Pharmaceuticals… it was a mess already. Corruption, bribes and unreliable auditing data.”

“Wait…” you intruded, “You were in the pharma that long? So we could have met?”

Hoseok gave you a lopsided smile and nodded. He further explained how he kept sending his colleagues to do site visits because he wants to avoid seeing you. This is where Namjoon begins to realise that you guys might be more than just friends because he asked,

“Why is that?”

Hoseok began his answer with a shrug of his shoulder and pursing his lips. After a brief thought, he admits, “Because at the time, we weren’t talking anymore. She would know why,” He opens his mouth to say more, but glancing down at your wedding ring, he didn’t.

If Hoseok remembered clearly, he was talking to you about a girl he had been pursuing. It was the first time he ever revealed something like that, all along you knew each other. You were studying for your final year and had been bludgeoned with assignments. There wasn’t a right time to tell you until one day on April 17th, he said he was finally going to ask this girl if she would be his girlfriend. A little info on her was that she was in a toxic relationship she was trying to get out from. She didn’t ask Hoseok to wait, but Hoseok was so in love with her, he didn’t mind how long it would take. She requested for time and space. Another man claimed her as his girlfriend when she didn’t say yes or no. Another two were also after her. Her ex boyfriend returned after months of leaving her. Just at the same time Hoseok was allowing her in his life.

When he shared you that information, you felt so betrayed somehow. He was always preaching about how being single is the best way to live and he turned around and did things like this. Pursuing a relationship. You were stubborn, you had egos you wanted to defend. Everything regarding relationships, you refuse to acknowledge. And any slight differences in your opinions were enough to break a relationship, even a strong friendship like you and Hoseok shared at the time. You once confessed to Hoseok that you liked him and he couldn’t return the same feelings. So you accused him of loving someone else and he denied that. When this happened, you felt like you were lied to. Because Hoseok, at the time that you two knew each other, was already having eyes on someone else, treating you as a placeholder, sharing emotions until the girl was eventually available for him.

Then he dropped you.

Things would have been different if he just told the truth. That he was indeed in love with someone when you confessed to him. Things would be much easier and it wouldn’t have gone deeper than it was. You would have walked away, unhurt and without knowing each other at a depth that you’d have to crawl out from. But Hoseok didn’t want to lose you. For some reason, he kept the friendship despite being unable to return your feelings, fabricating attention and giving hopes that he might one day change his feelings. Had you walked out earlier, you wouldn’t have resorted to deleting all contacts with him. His Instagram account, all his numbers, his pictures, galleries. The assignments he helped you with, the emotional support, the ice cream dates and late night phone calls. You would take it all away.

You deleted him from your life, only for him to tiptoe around the same company as yours— afraid of being known but unsure of what he did wrong. You decided that you would punish him that way. By leaving him with no answers of why you left.

“Will you be joining the closing ceremony dinner at Hyatt?” Namjoon politely asked. Noticing that the conversation had run down.

“Perhaps I will. I have to keep the firm going for the wife and kids to eat,” Hoseok perked up, and it was the first time he ever revealed about his marital status all through the conversation.

“Oh, you married her?” the delight in your voice was sincere, you are so happy for him. But his answers weren’t what you expected.

“No I didn’t. She left me for someone else, she was never honest with me, and I was only hearing the things I wanted to hear,” Hoseok rubs his knuckle and politely excused himself when he saw Namjoon was approached by an entourage of bodyguards that guide you and your husband to the next section of the convention. No numbers were exchanged to insinuate a rekindled relationship. It’s like you both understood that you could never return to what you were before. You both are leading different lives now, with different people and different phases. But you hoped he knew just how much he meant to you back then.

Hoseok walked away with a lightened shoulders. Now that he has seen you face-to-face and sure of what life you’re living, he felt a little at ease and a little envious. In the car you once rode with him, this broken-down Honda Civic, divorce papers were scattered on the front seat. The top-most letter being the child custody granted to his wife. His firm is also on the verge of bankruptcy and he was laid off from his contract with the pharma, this convention being the last one he will ever attend. After you left his life, he was burdened with one bad luck after the other. And he was at his last strand of hope when he came to the building. He saw you gracefully presenting on the stage about the medication you have been working on, like how he always wished to see. You were so cool, so engaging, so intelligent in your presence. Namjoon is the ultimate husband you wished for, and of course, you would concede for a man that was at your level. Knowing you as long as he did, you will not settle for less and that’s final. No discussion.

Life is good for you.

Inserting his car keys inside the keyhole, telling himself that, “That’s the price of breaking a pure heart.”

Empty bottle of soda laying on the wooden panel. Your tear-stained face, sleeping on your side under the starry night sky, while Namjoon watched you intently. He covers you with a blanket and lets you sleep. He walked inside the house, and vanished to his home office. In it, he fetches his phone and turns on his table lamp, making a call that was immediately taken.

“I want you to find the burial information on a lawyer Jung Hoseok and send some condolences bouquet,” he instructed with a low voice. The short voice call felt heavy but necessary. Hoseok’s passing was detrimental to his wife’s mental and emotional health— it was important for him and her to get the closure they both needed.

Judging from her frail figure, she won’t be able to attend the funeral. Cremation was planned as requested by Hoseok. His children will not be attending, neither is his wife. The last thing Hoseok wanted was his funeral attended by the people that was the reason for his passing. For years, he had been battling depression and anxiety. It has been a long, lonely fight.

Namjoon watches the silhouette of you, standing against the setting sun, in your all-black attire and hair tied in a bun, hugging yourself. Wind blowing the strands of your hair back at every strike. Your diamond ring twinkling at the light it reflects. The sound of traffic in the distance, honks and vehicles throttling far away.

“The funeral ended gracefully…” Namjoon broke the silence.

You dropped your head and tutted your tongue, smiling weakly.

“It’s not your fault, darling…” your husband’s footsteps padded through the wooden floors to where you were.

“Then why does it hurt so bad? Why does it still hurt so Goddamn much?!” you shrieked.

Namjoon collected you in his arms, so you would rest your head on his sturdy chest, and he whispered, barely audibly heard by you,

“Because when you love, you love with everything you have. I know that much.”

It was then he realized that one is only allowed the closure they deserved;

And, no closure is also a closure.

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copyright © january 4th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading <3

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↳ author’s note it's been awhile, i feel like i've been waiting for my personal life to overflow before i could write something. this is just an excuse to use 'that' picture of namjoon for the banner of a story. how are you? i've recently cut contacts with someone i hold dearly in my life. upon the break, it gave me back the emotions i used to have when i am writing. all this while, i have wasted my feeling, my elaborated word choices on someone who hardly appreciate it. with him gone, i started to think clearer and see things for what they are. i am no longer shrouded by dark grey clouds of uncertainty as i was with him. it was a difficult shift, but i feel better now that he is gone from my life. i dropped a tear or two not because of the love i used to feel for him, but because i felt incapable of being loved the way i yearned. this is the second day after i broke all connection with the said man/boy/creature. i feel liberated after the whole story was written. i needed him killed in my mind. so i wrote it just that. i've returned to where i was before, and i feel absolutely fine.

[sterekficrec]

Last Chance Asks!

Hey guys, these are asks that have been on our lost fic list for a very long time, I'm going to put them here so we can still save them and that we'll create more room for new lost fics that have yet to be found. If you find any of these let me know by using the number and mention it's from the last chance list, thank you in advance :)

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1.

Hey, I've been looking for this fic for months and can't seem to find it. It's about stiles leaving BH to get away from the supernatural but in the city he goes to he meets an old female alpha who knew Talia. He becomes frds w her and lends her a book which she gives to Derek who spills coffee on it and when he goes to the bookstore he meets stiles there. I think the pack moved too and is living in a house together for school. I looked everywhere and couldn't find it, help please and thanks

2.

I've just started reading this fic, it's pretty short when my laptop died so I can't find it now. Um, it was about like after apocalypse with zombies and stiles is bitten so he has to kill himself. I'm sorry if it's vague but I'm really itching to finish it. A lot of angst if it helps?? thank you

3.

looking for a fic with KindaNerd!derek who Stiles helps one day after school and they start hanging out and as time passes Derek grows to be handsome. Then when they graduate Derek tells the school about how Stiles saved his life that day he called him, and tears from Laura and Erica happen and Sterek kisses ensure. Do you happen to know what fic I mean and the name of the fic? xx

6.

Hey I'm trying to find a fic. I think the name was daddy issues, but I'm not sure. Maybe it was daddy issues. It was one where stiles was with a bunch of guys (including Derek Hale, Chris Argent and others I don't remember) thanks!

9.

hey I was wondering if you could help me find a fanfiction where stiles works for like a suicide or depression hotline and derek calls one day and the two of them kind of bond? I've been looking everywhere for it and I cant seem to find it!

10.

hey! ive been looking for a fic for a real long while. the whole pack goes away to a cabin for a bonding experience, with people sharing rooms. there is a beach, and places to go shopping. lydia and/or allison go shopping with stiles at somepoint and get him things so he looks super hot at a club. white pants and something painted on him. and then derek freaks and leaves them all. lemme know if you know this one???

11.

Hiya.! Well, I read this fic about a year ago and it was amazing and I want to read it again but I forgot the name, it's a fic were Scott was never bitten and stiles gets kidnapped and taken to some werewolf camp in Newyork and becomes Derek's mate and eventually meets his family. Can you please help me? And btw. Your blog is amazing. It gives me life.

12.

Hi I was wondering if u knew a series on archive of our own where stiles gets kidnapped with Boyd and Erica and comes back With them and joins that pack and becomes Derek's mate and then later in the series he yells at Derek and Cora about taking the pack away from him if he doesn't act nicer to them thanks sorry for the crappy summary

13.

okay i dont know how far out of canon you like to go or how AU you like, but do you recall a sterek fic that had stiles getting tattooed for magical purposes and part of the tattoo requires 3 blood donors (father-sheriff, brother-scott, lover-derek) but he hasnt told derek the lover bit yet and the chick tattooing him is like some elf girl i think named leeloo or something.... i just cant find it in the tattoo stiles track or the magical stiles track. it was either a series or one big ass one.

14.

do you know a sterek fanfic where Stiles is an omega werewolf and he stumbles upon the hale territory and Derek Hale plans to take him in for only one night but Stiles makes breakfast and the pack love him and cliche blah?

16.

hi, wondering if you can help me find an older fic, it's one where Stiles is magical and Derek's pack is grown up, I think Boyd and Erica have a kid, and someone tries to set the pack house on fire but now its magiced fireproof, but the forest burns, and the hunters come but Stiles uses his magic to bring the forest back to life and ties himself to the land... Sorry that's a weird synopses but it's all I can remember clearly

17.

Hey can you find a fic where the pack was using stiles in training like hunting him but a werewolf jumps him in the woods and stiles thinks it's derek and submits and it turns out it wasn't derek and since stiles submitted derek says the alpha has like a certain amount of days to get stiles to say yes and that was as far as I got please find this!

18.

hey so I'm looking for one fic, I hope you can help find it :) it's about Stiles being sacrificed to the werewolves to keep the town safe and there's whole werewolf village. there was no Hale fire, Laura has a husband and kids. later Scott was bitten by some rouge (or Peter I don't remember) and came to the village 'causee hunters wanted to kill him. I remember that when they were fighting other weres or maybe hunters (or was it just fullmoon?) Stiles saved Laura's kids from being killed. help?

19.

do you know the fic were in which Derek helps hook stiles up with some dude & in the process he reveals that he's into stiles & stiles kind of ignores it so Derek eats ice cream and watches Disney movies and stiles happens in on him & is all, "what."

20.

i'm looking for a fic that i think is a 5+1 cuddles thing? all i can remember from it is that there's a fae fight in alison's bedroom and derek got ripped apart so stiles pushed him into the closet and is trying to hold derek's guts in? i've asked a lot of ficrec blogs but no-one can find it for me, so thanks in advance if you can!

21.

Can you please help me I already tried twficfinder, LJ, etc. Its a sterek fic made in 2012 where Stiles helps Derek get his families life insurance, parents will or just money cause he's living in a bad place & has no income. Derek feels guilty & doesn't feel deserving of that. Stiles drives them to where the person in charge of fixing that is. Derek might be rich. They buy wood for the floor of the Hale house. Scott or Sheriff ask why he's helping Derek. Its not Out of Milk or Hale Construction

23.

I'm looking for a fix where stiles hires a dom, but she declines and instead he goes to derek? I think at one point, they make a list of things that are allowed, and everyone can see the bruises left behind, but stiles is really happy. Any help is much appreciated!

24.

Do you know the one where Derek hurts stiles ankle before a carnival or fair and takes stiles but ends up attacking him but is stopped by a psychic and she puts Derek's wolf in stiles so that stiles is the alpha

26.

hi i was wondering if youve read a sterek fic where derek basically tells stiles that his mom dying was nothing compared to him basically killing his family cause of the fire. i cant seem to find it anywhere.

27.

I've been looking for this fic everywhere and I can't find it! It's attempted non con with stiles and a original character but stiles hits the guy with a rock and kills him by mistake and calls derek panicking and derek helps cover it up. Do you know it?

29.

Okay, so I need help. I have been looking for this fic for over a year and i was wondering if you knew it. It's where stiles is a kid and his mother is in the hospital dying, and derek is in a coma from the fire and they connect on a telepathic level and stiles brings him out of his coma and stiles mom dies and the derek moves and checks up on stiles yearly. HELP ME PLEASE?? Thank you for taking the time to read this.

31.

Hi! So I'm trying to find a fic (it was lengthy) but I'm pretty sure it was a 5+1 trope, and its like five times Sheriff recognizes Derek as a son? All I can recall is at one point Sheriff thinks Stiles killed Derek and he offers to help him hide it?

33.

I read a Sterek AU ages ago but I can't find it now, I was wondering if you'd read it and could possibly send me a link? It's the one where Stiles sets up an online dating account to mock people and he starts talking to who he thinks is Derek. The two become really good friends but when Stiles goes to meet Derek he finds out that Derek has no idea who he is and Laura started the account for a joke, and is engaged.

34.

Hey! I was just wondering if you could find a fic for me? All I remember is that it was really short, about soulmates and stiles was playing a drum in the snow! Thanks! I've been looking for it for ages!

35.

Hi bb can you help me find a fic? Derek & Laura(?) are twins. Stiles has magic powers & is bff w/ Laura, who later dates Lydia or Allison. Derek paints Stiles in an attic or something & Laura is jealous bc she doesn't want sterek to happen. Thanks!

36.

i think its backround sterek, but do you know the fic where the pack is afraid to touch stiles because they think they're hurting him but really it's touch starved!stiles

38.

Hey, I've completely forgotten the name to fic, I remember that stiles is a lil bit of a delinquent so the sheriff gets derek who's a college student I think to watch over him and they have sex and they're sort of like fuck buddies and at some point it's Derek's birthday and he has a party at his apartment??? idk do u guys know this fic lmao please help!!!

39.

Hey so love your account Anyway I was wondering if you knew the story where the pack like finds a mysterious knife and stiles cuts himself and then gets thrown into the past and is trying to get Paige and Derek together? I hope that made sense Again love the account, such a life saver!

40.

Hey I was wondering if you knew the title of the fic where (I think its Stiles) who's a single father and his daughter is obssessed with bunnies and at some point Derek makes a lil park in the backward for the bunnie?

41.

Ok so I'm looking for a fic where it's after the hale fire and Derek lived in a small cabin by himself then he sends for omega human stiles and they live with each other cause Derek needs pack and he stays in his wolf form a lot of the time. It's like a super slow burn and angst you. Can you help a bro out?

43.

Hey, I read this fic once on ao3 about Stiles having tons of nightmares from the nemeton after Derek leaves. Then he starts calling him when he has panic attacks. He has to do the underwater sacrifice to get rid of the nightmares and when he comes out of the water Derek's there waiting for him and then they get together... It's seriously driving me crazy that I can't find it!!! Do you know what fic I'm talking about??

44.

hey im looking for a fic and I've been googling increasingly strange things but i just cant find it so i was hoping you might have read it? im pretty sure its quite short, but basically allison goes to stiles to ask about werewolf sex and then stiles makes derek give him the werewolf sex talk so that he can clue the rest of the pack in. thank you xx

45.

Hi! I'm looking for a specific fic! It's like Stiles is at a club, and he's sitting at the bar and sees his ex walk in and he gets really panicky because he starts walking over so he grabs the closest guy to him and kisses him? And it turns out the guy he kissed was Derek? I can't find it anywhere!

46.

Hi i was wondering if you could help me find a fic. I dont really remember much just that it was sterek and that cora read some spell that sent Derek back in time and he ended up mating to Stiles but when they have children Cora fixes it and Derek goes back to him normal time and tells cora that he has to go back because he has a mate but cora tells him that he has to wait until the full moon i think and in the end he and cora go back to stiles time and stay there

47.

I was wondering if you might know of a fic I am looking for. It's one of those Sheriff Finds Out ones and it's in his POV. I remember that it had Melissa in it and she let the Sheriff into a house/Room where the pack (they are a pack in this) was all cuddling in groups. I remember once specific moment where he observes Alison and Scott and notices their closeness with Isaac. And I am pretty sure Stiles is asleep on Derek. I know this is not very descriptive but I was wondering if you knew of one

48.

Hello I'm searching for a sterek fic I read a while back and I can't find it 😔 it's a fic where Stiles discovers he's a wizard or a shaman or something like that and he's linked to plants somehow and there are many pack interactions like pack cuddles and stuff so many pack feels and then the pack is being attacked and the forest is destroyed and Stiles manages to grow it back and he's like part of the forest it's such a great fic so beautifully written, do you happen to know what's this fic?

49.

Hello, lovely. I have been trying to fing a fic where Dean and Cas from Supernatural are Stiles parents and Derek knocks him up. While Stiles goes through the pregnancy, a Big Bad from the past comes back and messes with Stiles. Sorry, this is vague.

50.

I was wondering if anyone remembered a story where Stiles was half-daeva (I believe), Scott was his Permissor, but no one else in the pack knew until another pack kidnaps them and stiles shows up to destroy them all. I remember reading it ages ago but I can't find it in my bookmarks :/

51.

Hi, can you help me find sterek fanfic? It's coffee shop au, Stiles is barista, Derek is customer who wants plain coffee but Stiles always goes crazy with toppings, there us Peter too, creepy but good, can't find it on ao3 (╯︵╰,)

52.

Ok I've been searching for this one fantastic fic I read ages ago but can't find and was hoping you guys might know! It's established relationship w pack mom Stiles and he's away at college but they all just kind of move in w him and he buys Erica tampons and Boyd McDonald's gift cards and brings Chinese food and is generally lovely?? I think it was a one shot and relatively short but I'm dying to read it again :(

53.

Hello! I'm looking for a sterek fic. I think it was a 5+1 type fic where people/random strangers thought the pack members were Derek and Stiles' children. Please and thank you! :)

54.

Idk if you find sterek fics but i can't remember it, please help. Stiles is kidnapped by faeries but then talks them into a peace treaty? I think it was on archive but I'm not getting anything.

57.

Hi! I can’t seem to find a fic I love and was wondering if you could help me find it? Stiles is in a bar with friends, I remember Lydia and Jackson being there, and is insisting he is a Alex god who can get any number he wants and jackson tells him to get that guys number and points to Derek and stiles basically goes up to him and says “I am trying to convince my friends I’m attractive can you give me a fake number?” and he does but it turns to be real???

58.

I’ve been looking for this fic where stiles has been out of town for a while and when he gets back he stops at this gas station on the edge of town and gets jumped by some redcaps I think? And then the guy who runs the station comes out and sees this kid covered in blood and calls Derek because strange kid I’ve never seen before covered in redcap blood, maybe come check this out? And Derek didn’t know stiles was coming back early because it was supposed to be a surprise. Thanks so much!

59.

I love your blog and I was hoping you'd help me with this fic I've been looking for forever. Stiles is either an orphan or his dad is irresponsible, and he's not exactly highly regarded but the Hales and of course Derek love him and welcome him at their house. But Stiles feels guilty/unworthy and doesn't always want to accept their help. At one point, he turns feral or something and Derek has to coax him out, and one of the Hales have a baby who loves Stiles (I think Peter's or Laura's). Thanks!

60.

hey :) there's this old fic i want to re-read where stiles is a mage(or someone who controls elemental magic) and hes hurt/rejected by Derek and leaves with someone where there are other people with elemental magic and he trains. If it helps: I remember in the big fight they wore shirts that matched with their powers. Could you please help me? thanks

[hazzabeeforlou]

Walls Masterpost

It’s the 28th of pride month, and fitting to post this now. The soul of Walls is the unabashed, fierce, tender, and brave love of a man who has shown for years that he is proud. This album isn’t a cohesive story line, nor do I think it’s even the album Louis envisioned himself putting out. He only flirts with true indie music like that of his idols; Always You is a pop masterpiece, TOU is a ballad, and Perfect Now a love song in the style of Little Things. The album is a collection of letters each addressed to a singular recipient, personal, self-searching, blunt, too vulnerable to be easy listening (if you really listen). Walls shows us the scope of Louis’ capacity for love. It’s the culmination of years of pain, heartbreak, and hope, written with the raw honestly of an archeologist stumbling upon his own personal memoirs. 

Please feel free to ask questions if any of the technical stuff is confusing, and remember these are my interpretations as a classically trained musician. I will use the name “Subject” for the implied “you” in each of Louis’ songs. 

Kill My Mind: in F minor. The verses are i VII IV, the tiny bridge IV III I (?), and the chorus is VII IV I, repeat. 

There are two oddities about this. First, in a natural minor key, the forth chord is minor (iv) but Louis keeps this B flat chord in major, changing the D flat to a D natural. Secondly, in the chorus, Louis changes from using a minor one chord to a major one. He raises the A flat to an A natural as he sings “Raise my body [A natural here] back to life.” This bit of text painting not only illustrates his words, but lends the song an off kilter feel, confusing the key signature between F minor and B flat Major (which has an A and D natural). 

Kill My Mind is Louis’ only ‘drugs’ song on the album, and I say that both because the metaphor is obvious and because he uses that obvious metaphor to compare addiction to a relationship. It reminds me, lyrically, of Back To You, and, like that song, could easily be interpreted as about a controlling force in his life on whom he’s become dependent, or a lover. 

Don’t Let It Break Your Heart: this is easily in the key of B flat Major. The verses are I IV vi 6/4 V 6/4, the bridge vi vi V IV vi V, the chorus same as the verses, I IV vi 6/4 V 6/4. 

This is Louis’ most hopeful track, and is so clearly about grief. Much has been made of the first line “on our way to twenty seven” being a reference to the 27 Club, a cultural phenomenon of icons/musicians/artists that die at that age due to fame/high risk lifestyle, but Louis then says they’re “doing better,” implying that both he and Subject are in this category. The rest of the song is him counseling and comforting Subject, empathizing with the hurt of loss, encouraging Subject, “Don’t let it kill you even when it hurts like hell.” He knows this pain, knows it deep, and knows that it takes time to heal. 

Two Of Us: IV I V iv V IV I V vi V. This progression is the same for both verses and chorus. The bridge is a bit hard to decipher as it moves in 3rds and not triads, something like IV V vi V vi V. 

Not much needs to be said about this song. It’s Louis’ beautiful ode to his mom, and he sings it with incredible vulnerability and heart. 

We Made It: this is the revolving door song. One progression is used, IV I V iii, and repeats from start to finish. It keeps reminding me of Coldplay. 

What’s interesting is that each chord functions as the subdominant or leading chord of the next, basically spinning us ever forwards so we never stop on a tonic home base. The E flat IV chord leads to the B flat I, the B flat I then functions as a IV chord to the V chord (F Major), then the D minor III chord functions as a major VII leading to a I of E flat (the beginning IV chord we started with in B flat Major) and the cycle repeats. 

Louis leaked part of this song several years ago, and a line about moonlight replaced the “met you at your uni” section, interestingly. “Playing something pop’y on the same four chords, used to worry bout it but I don’t no more.” Young love. He remembers how it tasted. Subject was high on what? Adrenaline? Orgasm? It’s a tender reminiscence with a hint of tragedy, “don’t know why they put this all on us when were so young.”  

Too Young: in E Major, the verses and chorus are IV I V vi (the vi is omitted at the cadences), the bridge is vi I V IV I V. 

Louis is once again looking back, regretful. Louis doesn’t speak in metaphors, the lyrics are to the point and precise. He’s hurt Subject, he’s given in to pressures, he’s cut subject off... the “2 years since I’ve seen your face” of course doesn’t fit the chronology of the album, but rather of his public life, as does the previous song’s line of “met you at your uni.” It’s interesting, then, that while Louis takes the blame for so much, he still says ‘we were too young’ and not ‘I was too young,’ implying that Subject was at least partly to blame for the hurt too, if only by fault of immaturity. 

Walls: This is in B Major. The chord progression for verses is

 vi I vi I, V [V7 with the melody note on the E natural] IV V V7 II IV i6 (passing chord)

chorus, IV I V I6, IV I V III6 vi V II6 Vi ii I (IV I passing chords) 

bridge, IV vi V, IV vi V, Vi vi III6 vi V II (this holds over til chorus) 

This is Louis’ tour de force. Walls is as complex as it is beautiful. His use of Major II chords, altered from a normal ii chord in Major key signatures, and his use of a Major III chord (which, again, is minor in Major key signatures) adds an unconventional twist. The opening and closing lyrics, “nothing wakes you up like waking up alone,” are set against a sparse vi I; but you see the vi chord doesn’t normally go to I, usually ii, IV, and V have that role, so by using a vi to I Louis is showing us the tonic alone, nothing ‘surrounding’ it. This song is so complex and layered, and I would argue it’s the one song besides OTB that is ripe for poetic interpretation; on first glance the lyrics seem so obvious, but there’s the music video to consider, the metaphor of him being left alone, high on a wall that has not fallen down, a blank name tag on his chest. The door opening to a desert on one side and a bullseye masquerade on the other has no happy implications, yet Louis has become a man through it all, he says, and he has no regrets about letting his walls crumble for love, damn the consequences he’s suffered. 

Habit: in G Major, the verses are I ii IV I, the bridge vi V IV I vi V IV ii7, the chorus I ii IV (vi V added when leading to next verse). Interestingly, in the verse that says “come so far from Princess Park,” the repeated line “in front of me, in front of me” adds two chords to the verse, between the IV and I, a vi and V. 

Like in too young, this is an apology, and Louis lays out his sins plainly. And while it’s unequivocal, we can see the extenuating circumstances: “took some time ‘cause I ran out of energy playing someone I heard I’m supposed to be.” There is no more damning line of lyrics. Louis has been exhausted holding some line, an invisible current through his music that he never truly addresses, yet always its there, a background character, a force of cruel divinity. “Don’t know why they put this all on us when were so young.” “I’m too far gone to pray.” 

Always You: This song could conquer radio in half a heartbeat, given a chance. It’s in E Major, verses are I vi IV, chorus is I vi IV, the same. 

This is world tour of missing Subject, this is Miss You but rephrased, reworked, gone from punk to pop princess. We have Amsterdam, Tokyo, LAX, Heathrow, which speak for themselves. “My baby,” Louis quotes over and over. He’s been “chasing a high,” and I’m reminded of the high in We Made It, “baby you were still high.” Orgasm? Adrenaline? Love? 

Fearless: A minor. Verses, i VII VI (added VI VII when leading back to verse), bridge is i V VI (III VII passing chords can be heard) i V VI VII

Now the very short chorus (”fearless, fearless,”) is, if we stick to A minor, III, III4/2, i, VI. I think, however, that at this point the piece modulates, going from A minor to C Major, (A minor is the relative minor of C Major, which means that the two keys share a key signature and can go into and out of each other easily) making the progressions I I4/2 (4/2 is an inversion of a 7th chord) vi IV. Now to add complexity on top of that, having a I7 chord is incredibly unusual, so I wouldn’t label it that, I would label it a V4/2 of IV, meaning that C7 chord functions as a cadential chord leading to F, or the IV chord, of C Major. This is all rather complicated, but knowing how it was constructed shows the song’s complexity. The final “fearless, fearless” progression then is: I, V4/2 of IV, vi, VI. 

In this song I believe Louis’ Subject is himself. it’s a song about fame and anxiety and the lost innocence (and gutsiness) of youth. It’s a brutal song that I doubt Louis would write to anyone besides himself given how he focuses solely on his own faults and doesn’t lay anything at the feet of his other Subjects. The laughing children heard fist and last are a cutting effect. 

Perfect Now: D Major. Verses, I I7 [again this is technically a V7 of IV, and functions as that since it leads to IV] IV6/4 iv6/4

bridge, iii vi ii vi

chorus, IV V I IV V I, IV V I IV I

second bridge, V vi IV I, V vi IV vi (then to chorus) 

This is a strange little song, perhaps its most unusual quirk being the switch from a Major IV chord to a minor iv chord in the verse. The Subject in this song loves to dance, and I’m reminded of KMM. Subject isn’t just not feeling pretty, they’re depressed, they are reticent to be looked upon (”don’t hide away”) they are a crown-less queen, and tears are the norm. Subject has a platform - everyone is looking at them - and is a scene stealer, charismatic without trying. I’ve attempted and failed to understand this song in any way other than that Subject is dealing with dysphoria, and that this is Louis’ ode to their perfection, an affirmation of an identity that perhaps can only be realized in private. It is in this interpretation that the Major to minor flip of the 4 chord makes me absolutely crumble into pieces. 

Defenceless: C flat Major (a most unusual key for a pop song). Verses are I V6 vi IV, bridge IV vi I V, chorus is IV vi I V (the falsetto second bridge is the same) 

Defenceless is Louis at his most honest. Who writes these lyrics in a pop song? “You don’t have to keep on being strong for me and you,” “just want to be loved by you,” “you don’t have a thing to prove,” “I’m too tired to be tough,” “Wish I didn’t need so much of you.” A moth to a flame is different from a moth to a light; immolation is a theme in love stories. This is too honest for a love song, and it feels intrusive just to listen. Louis has a deep love for Subject, an abiding care and need for them. 

Only The Brave: E flat Major. Verse, I (IV I) IV I, I (IV I) IV I

Chorus is vi V IV I [ii iii IV V OR IV V IV V, I can’t determine because of the movement in 3rds] I 

This song. I can only compare it to when I used to cry when I’d see speeches about gay love; I never understood why, but I just knew, in my heart, before my brain had figured it out yet, that I was the same. This song is that. It is so intrinsically gay, the metaphors are woven in every word, every nuance. Burn history, break rules, cry like a fool, close enough to touch... the church of burnt romances. “I’m too far gone to pray.” Love is only for the brave. Of course it takes a great deal of bravery to love anything completely, to face the prospect of loss knowing how that love will rip you apart. And in the end, some might say from the cradle to the grave you are ultimately alone. Yet Louis knows better than any that those you love are always with you, “even when I’m on my own, I know I won’t be alone.” I believe this song is Louis’ concluding thesis to an album filled to the brim with anecdotes of his own love, a gift to us speaking of the commonality he shares with the wider community, a history of brave love, of loneliness, of too many dying stars in the sky. The tall tales, only hello hello, no goodbye; we don’t focus on the goodbyes. We tell our stories with happy endings, but love, sometimes it doesn’t have those, for some of us it’s a solo song. 

Louis Tomlinson, I’m sure there’s not a chance in a million you’ll ever read this but, if you do, I see you, we see you. You are so loved. Thank you for this album, thank you for giving us this gift of love. Continue your artistic journey and follow your heart. We’ll be here, because for us, it’s Always You. 

[littlemixnet]

Little Mix on what it takes to survive being the most bullied band in pop

Still teenagers when they were catapulted to fame, superstardom came at a price for Little Mix. They open up to Francesca Babb about the soaring highs and crashing lows of the past nine years. It is the end of our YOU cover shoot, and I am facing the lesser-spotted sight of a barefaced Little Mix. Wet wipes swipe back and forth across their faces and, as the foundation departs in a deluge of coffee-coloured tissues, Jesy Nelson and Leigh-Anne Pinnock, both 29, and Jade Thirlwall and Perrie Edwards, both 27, visibly relax into their tracksuits and boyfriend jeans, shoulders dropping as they settle into themselves. I’m so used to seeing them contoured and camera ready that I assumed full glamour was their happy place. But perhaps the real Little Mix are not the war-paint-and-leotard-clad pop stars we’ve spent almost ten years watching grow up, but rather the four women they have become behind the glare of the spotlight. It’s those four women that I’m intrigued to meet. Since winning The X Factor nine years ago, there have been highs – selling over 50 million records globally, a significant percentage of which were self-penned, and creating enough accompanying make-up lines and merchandise to keep them and their families comfortable for the foreseeable future (recent reports suggest they have earned a combined £28.5 million to date). But there have also been lows – perpetual picking apart by both the public and the press, bullying and vitriol from online trolls. The most extreme cases of which led Jesy to attempt suicide during Little Mix’s early days in 2013 (she regards a tweet from the controversial Katie Hopkins – ‘Packet Mix have still got a chubber in their ranks. Less Little Mix. More Pick n Mix’ – as the ‘pinnacle point’ for her depression) and pushed Perrie into an ongoing struggle with anxiety. Fame has changed them. In some ways they are still youthful and silly – dropping phrases into conversation that wouldn’t be out of place in a playground – yet, in others, they are wise beyond their years, diving headfirst into battles on feminism, race and mental health. They’re fun enough to be light relief, smart enough to inspire a generation struggling with the pressures of youth and social media even before a pandemic was thrown at them, and ballsy enough to leave Simon Cowell’s record label because they didn’t feel he had their best interests at heart. ‘It’s never really been a cruise, has it?’ Jade ponders, a copy of social activist Bell Hooks’ 2002 feminist theory Communion: The Female Search For Love in her hand (not for show, I might add; when I ask her about it, she is well versed in its content). ‘It’s either been a really big high, or a really big low.’ Jesy, who has found herself the target of some of the cruelest contempt from the world outside Little Mix, agrees: ‘Some of the best times, some of the worst times.’ Comments on her weight, her looks, her place in the band, comments that she should take her own life, all led her into a deep depression and the aforementioned suicide attempt. Her documentary last year, Jesy Nelson: Odd One Out, revealed her journey through it all and, while harrowing, it is essential viewing on the realities of growing up in a world dominated by social media. ‘Before we got in the group, I never looked at myself and thought, “I don’t like that” – I don’t think any of us did. I never thought, “Oh god, I’m fat”, and then we got in the industry, and we all started wanting to change things about ourselves. It’s so sad. There are things [in the past] I definitely wish I hadn’t done,’ she says, referring to the suicide attempt, in which she took an overdose after a two-year battle with depression and an eating disorder. ‘But would I be the person I am today if I hadn’t gone through all of that?’ ‘There was a time when it was worse than it is now,’ adds Leigh-Anne, who has increasingly used her own Instagram channel to vocalise her experience of racism, both overt and underlying, throughout her time in the band. ‘I guess we’re taking steps forward, but I fear for my [future] daughters…’ ‘It makes me not want to have a kid,’ agrees Jesy. ‘Those insecurities that we all have now because of social media, imagine having that embedded in you as a child?’ Before you write them off as four very lucky girls ungratefully complaining about a lifestyle so many dream of, I should point out that they are fully aware of the paradox of their privilege. I suppose the point is, it’s not too much to ask to not be bullied to the point of hospitalisation as a by-product, is it? ‘Little Mix has changed our lives for the better, and our families’ lives, and we have achieved so much,’ says Perrie. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ agrees Jesy (a warning I will hear repeatedly throughout our hour together, perhaps thanks to almost a decade of their quotes being blasted out of context for click-bait). ‘I’m not going to sit here and say we’ve got a terrible life, because we haven’t, but I do think our innocence was taken from us.’ It’s a while since the girls last did any press. Lockdown saw a halt to any activity they had planned, including the launch of their new talent show, BBC1’s Little Mix: The Search (in which they, well, search for a new band to mentor and join them on tour). But the time apart has not diminished their ability to finish each other’s sentences and jump to each other’s aid. It has, it seems, been really rather good for them and allowed them to come back fired up for the release of their sixth album, Confetti, which came out this week. ‘It was needed,’ agrees Jesy. ‘We’re never not with each other and we’re always busy. Our mornings start early, we finish really late.’ Being at home has meant more time spent with their families, with Jade even starting her own show on MTV with her mum Norma. Called Served!, the self-filmed series saw the pair interview celebrity drag queens and challenge each other to cooking competitions. ‘I love drag culture,’ she says, ‘and me mam was by herself in lockdown, so I thought it’d be something nice to keep her entertained.’ ‘Your mum could be on Loose Women,’ Leigh-Anne muses. ‘Imagine our mams on a show!’ shrieks Jade. ‘Nobody else would get a word in edgeways with my mam,’ laughs Perrie. ‘Ooh, when Debbie goes off on Twitter,’ says Jade, of Perrie’s mum’s habit of weighing in on comments from haters. ‘My mam will text me, have you seen Debbie’s been going off on someone!’ It is interesting that all four talk frequently about their mums throughout our chat, and yet there is no mention of fathers. While their mums often appear on Instagram, a sighting of Perrie’s dad on her 23rd birthday was extremely rare. Perhaps the Little Mix dads’ absence in the narrative is because the four girls were predominantly raised by their mothers (all of their parents separated when they were younger), and another reason the group’s bond is so tight. Little Mix are each other’s wall of arms, their own personal bodyguards. Jesy, they unanimously agree, is Scary Mix (although I find her a delight), which is interesting given her own inability to bat off other people’s words. ‘When it’s you on your own dealing with something personally,’ Jesy says, ‘It’s completely different. You feel so vulnerable alone, but we are a force when we’re together.’ It’s not hard to see, in today’s social-media obsessed society where there is little retribution for cruelty, why four attractive, successful young women, with attractive, successful young boyfriends (two footballers – Perrie dates Liverpool’s Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, Leigh-Anne is engaged to Watford’s Andre Gray – while Jade is with Rizzle Kicks singer Jordan Stephens and Jesy is going out with Our Girl actor Sean Sagar), who seem to be living a dream life have found themselves at the heart of a whirlwind of vitriol. There was the infamous spat with Piers Morgan, in which he mocked them for posing naked but for the insults that have been hurled at them painted on their bodies. He accused them of using sex to sell records and called them ‘foul-mouthed, talentless, clothes-allergic little dimwits’, which is not how I find them to be. ‘I take Piers with a pinch of salt,’ Jesy says, rolling her eyes. ‘He does it to cause drama, so I take no notice. When we won The X Factor, we didn’t look like a generic girl band: we’re all different shapes and sizes, we didn’t dress sexy, so immediately everyone was, “What’s this?”’ ‘Usually, when you see a girl band, they’re perfection, they have six-packs – and we didn’t,’ continues Jesy. ‘People saw us as kids, so even though we’re now women, people still think of us that way, so when we come out on stage in leotards, they think, “That’s disgusting!”’ ‘One Direction didn’t get the s**t we get, because they’re men,’ states Leigh-Anne. ‘It’s like, “They’re four girls, let’s come at them”. As soon as it’s girls, they think, “Oh you slag.”’ ‘When it’s men, it’s celebrated, but the minute women sexualise themselves and feel powerful doing it, we’re told to rein it in,’ adds Jade. ‘We’re conditioned to think that women are there to be these innocent and pure beings and the minute you step out of that, it’s carnage.’ Little Mix, however, are not scared of embracing that carnage and of sparking a debate. For their show The Search, Jade describes how it was important for them to set the tone on respect when each new person auditioned. ‘Because we are small women, it’s important to show people that they need to respect us, that we know what we’re talking about and we need to be listened to,’ she says. ‘There’s no nastiness,’ continues Jesy about the show, which has been praised for modernising and freshening up the age-old TV format. ‘There’s no making anyone feel uncomfortable for entertainment.’ They also insisted a large part of their budget be dedicated to looking after the contestants’ mental health, understanding, first hand, the pitfalls of talent shows. The Search is not their first attempt at diversifying their talent. As a group, they have LMX make-up line and also a perfume, Style By Little Mix. Subsequently, they have become expert businesswomen, refusing to make the mistakes of pop groups past, so often left completely penniless at the end of their careers. ‘I remember walking into an early label meeting and saying, “This is who we want to be, this is the campaign we want, this is the imagery we want,”’ says Jade. ‘We knew our brand from the get go and we very much steered that ship.’ It’s a long way from their (as Jesy puts it) ‘working-class backgrounds’. Since joining the band, each one has bought their mum a house and, while their tale is not entirely rags to riches, the jump from Primark to Prada in recent years has certainly been significant. When it comes to business, Perrie describes herself and Leigh-Anne as the ones who will often seek a compromise in difficult situations, while they send Jesy and Jade in when deals need to be made. ‘Jesy’s the badass,’ Perrie laughs. ‘Whenever I’m scared, I’ll stand behind her. She’s the one who puts her foot down in a boardroom full of men and says, “It’s going to be this way.” But we pick our battles. We don’t just argue about every decision – it’s when we feel we have to.’ ‘Nobody could say that we are difficult, and if they do, they’re lying,’ says Leigh-Anne adamantly. Adds Jesy: ‘We know what we want, and we know what kids want.’ Little Mix have lived over a third of their lives in the spotlight. They’ve seen how things work, how things don’t, and they’ve learnt how to cope with it all. The lows may have been spectacularly low, but the highs have surpassed any of their expectations. Their story is not your classic fairytale, but it’s one they have learnt they can write their own ending for. If the Little Mix I meet today is anything to go by, I wouldn’t expect that ending to come any time soon. Little Mix’s new album Confetti is out now. Their movie LM5: The Tour Film will be in cinemas nationwide on 21 and 22 November.

[fucker-anon]

Bloody Painter Headcanons

am i gonna write about helen even tho no one cares? fUCK YEA @creepy-bi-day hope you enjoy. Im still not a writer sorry :/. also my personal hcs, its okay to disagree. Also dark themes again. 

Bloody Painter

Backstory:

was born on Oct 1st, 1980, fully name Helen Otis

mother is white, father is Japanese

is an only child. Helen’s parents had a very difficult time in getting pregnant like yeeeaaars (10 ish) and they also really wanted a girl. Like in their head, they would be getting a girl. and when they did get pregnant the ultra scan did show a girl. so they were in shock when a boy popped out. 

they no likely. Since helen’s mom was a teacher, they decided to raise the boy as a girl and simply homeschool them until they had to go to college, once there they could simply transition into a girl. This is how they thought trans people were so they thought they’ll do the same to get a girl (This was obliviously wrong)

so they tried to do that but mother couldn’t get the needed forms and paperwork to homeschool Helen so they had to go to school. so their parents decided the best thing to do was to make them as manly as possible in 6 months. so everything pink and girl (lots of which were comfort items like plushies, and art things) were thrown out in front of poor 6 year old Helen who didn’t understand what was happening. Helen couldn’t do art, couldn’t wear certain clothes, couldn’t say certain things. punishments weren’t physical but there was a lot of yelling.

around the 3 month before school started, their parents decided that maybe Helen should meet their grandparents (parents kept giving excuses why they couldn’t visit). everything was going swell until the grandparents on the father’s side asked why name their BOY a GIRL name. before the parents could say anything, helen said “cause im a girl?” ... yaaaa queerphobic grandparents and little helen didn’t get along. plus helen was white passing so asian grandparents blamed their mom.

parents cut contact with the grandparents, and yelled at helen a lot. (poor bby) this mental abuse continued over 3 months and caused helen to stop talking and start repressing a lot of his feeling which his parents encouraged cause “”bOYs donT hAve fEeLinGs””

in school, the parents told the teacher that there was a mix up when filling out his name and that they should call him Otis. Of course one teacher messed up and called him Helen, and then they got a lot of comments form their peers, but they learned not to say that they were a girl at this point. 

helen was lightly bullied for his name, and when they tried to tell a teacher they were told to “man up :))” 

and so more repressing feelings

it wasn’t until middle school where someone (a kid who they later learned was named tom), stole and planted a watch of another girl into helen’s bag. This meant helen’s bullying got a lot worse. Before it was a comment here or there, now it was physical and a lot often. this is also when he began to develop symptoms of anxiety and depression.

he slowly became friends with Tom, who was also bullied a lot. But one day Tom took Helen to the roof where Tom confessed into planting the watch. Helen was very upset, and the two started to argue when Tom slipped off the edge, Helen tried to hold on to Tom, but Tom let go of his hand. Tom dead.

there was an investigation done, and Helen wasn’t in trouble as some students and teachers said how they saw him hold onto Tom. The school was given a speech about how bullying was bad, and tried to get things back to normal. Helen’s bully did die down, tho lots of ppl tried to spread rumors about how he pushed Tom. 

his parents were more upset over how this would look and not about Helen’s mental health. Helen never told them about the bulling. 

When high school started, the bullies acted as if nothing happened. and on Halloween, Helen snapped and killed 5 of the main bullies. He was caught and sent to a mental hospital. 

so you think that finally, Helen can get the help they need right :)). ahhah no....

so the hospital did diagnose Helen with depression and a mild case of anxiety, but basically put them on pills. the actually therapist had a very hard time getting Helen to open up. this is because the on their first session helen started with his gender identity, and the therapist told him “look you are biologically a boy, so you must be a boy :))” and when they said that sometimes he felt more comfortable when they were more fem, they was told that was wrong. 

so helen shut up like a clam cause they did not feel safe with this guy

at least they learned how to somewhat manage their depression and anxiety :)

once helen turned 18 he was released, and Helen decided to be an artist and not kill. but he saw another one of his bullies and said fuck it.

slender saw and was like “i like this child. imma adopt them”

and Helen joined the mansion

Personality:

look Helen was mocked and betrayed by basically every person in their life, they don’t trust ppl

they are nice, but they don’t new people

if you’re nice they’ll be nice, if you’re mean they’ll be mean, simple

cold hearted, look if you are neutral to them and get run over by car they wont do anything. the world was shit to them, they’re shit back.

quiet. like Helen could be inches away and you still won’t hear them

buttttt if you get close (good luck) you see a passionate, kinda nerdy, very kinda touch starved, sarcastic person who just lived a shitty life. 

Fun Facts:

k mans has a 6 inch dick, 7 when hard, but is thick, and stretches you out-

*cough* moving on-

bi sexual. Helen has a very hard time acknowledging romantic feelings but is down to date the girls, gays and theys. again good luck getting there but it may happen.

gender fluid Helen has come a long way and their gender identity has ranged from girl, boy, both, none and yes. They’ve settled on gender-neutral pronouns but doesn’t hate being called she/her or he/him usually. On a bad day, they can’t say the same. 

Called them painter. The only ppl who can called them by their birth names are ppl who are close to them. On fem days, they like Helen. On masc days, they like Otis. Sometimes they don’t care, sometimes they just wanna be called painter. If you’re not sure and you actually care just ask, he’ll say what day it is. usually they dress accordingly, but still if you’re not sure ask, they’ll prefer it.

Speaking of clothes, the fit??? is on point???? like imagine dark academia with more blues, blacks and tans. Helen looks like the protagonist of a boarding school au.

they will wear skirt and dresses and corsets, and do they’re (slightly basic) hair and makeup.

some creeps (jeff) tried to make fun of helen for this. And when you look at Helen you dont think that they’re much of a fight. Helen’s lean and kinda thin (kid doesn’t eat a lot), but Helen did karate for year cause their dad wanted their “perfectly normal son” to do something manly and kinda close to their culture. Helen learned how to fight with a very good guard and how to be very fast but not so much strong. Wasn’t until he got out of the mental hospital did he learn about pressure points, specially those that dont need a lot pressure :) you see where this is going. 

Basically Helen is that one movie character who touches a spot on someone's neck and they pass out. (this is the best i can describe it, they dont do this exactly but similar things) 

also very talented at art and arty things. like annoyingly good. he’ll try wood craving and make amazing things after only learning about it an hour ago. Current draws online and does online commissions to pay for his coffee

actually likes hunting, not with gun but with like bows an arrows. they dont hunt often cause they like animals

has to finish whatever they’re working on. please force this baby into bed

has a coffee addiction

likes classical music and lofi. 

dont talk about the whole painting with blood thing, they were 14, it was cringey, they know

hair is like chin length ish, its black with waves, so if they wanna be masc they can tie it up and when its fem, they can let it down and straighten it 

forgets to eat, feed them

k this is long. As you can see I can also write a whole essay about Helen. I will write about Helen’s and Johnny friendship, along with the other creeps later. but im tired. 

[boogiewrites]

Peach and Poppy

Characters: Declan Harp x Scarlet Dixon (OFC)

Summary: Declan Harp AU. Set in the 1970′s, Declan is a misbehaving psychiatric patient and Dr. Dixon or Dixie as he likes to call her, is a tenacious and underestimated new hospital director. Will this new job get the best of her delicate sensibilities like people are warning her? Will the charm of one of her patient’s awaken something in her she can’t come back from?

Warnings/Tags: Talk of manipulation, graphic language. 

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

1975 was an exciting year for psychiatry and it was shaping up to be one for Scarlett. She sat in the driver's seat, something she’d had to work so hard to accomplish. Her father had insisted with her new position of such importance it would look proper to be driven around again. But she’d only been living on her own for a few years now and she wasn’t ready to give up that freedom again.

She supposed he truly had a soft spot for her because he hadn't been entirely dismissive of this rebelliousness. But he always gave in to her in the end.

“Those feminists out there in… heathen California and such. Dixie darlin, I brought you up to be a respected little lady. You’re a dang doctor! Miss Georgia! You’re smart and gorgeous as the day is long honey, why would you wanna go and act ugly like that?”

This always came with the intimidating insinuation that it would sure be a shame if her actions were what lost him the next election.

With a wide-eyed, “It won’t be a problem, daddy.” He’d give her a hug and lift up her chin, tell her she looked like her mama and she’d be proud.

If he’d wanted a daughter to fall for that maybe he shouldn’t have let her become a psychiatrist.

But Scarlet or Dixie as those close to her called her, her daddy had been right about one thing, she was smart. She’d learned how to play the game in her favor long ago. In a public and pressured life like hers, looking how she did, she learned early what was expected of her and how men were going to treat her. She was allowed a bit of protection. Her father wasn’t just some kiss ass politician. He’d been known to make a few people disappear, and the whiff of a threat always around him, so his daughter would understandably come with some consequences. But now she’d become her own person, a doctor, and had a house and life of her own that she was still having fun exploring.

She was an accomplished psychiatrist. Engaged to one of her daddy’s lawyers and now the head chief of a psychiatric hospital. Which was where she was headed right now in the new car her daddy had bought her. A slick thing that made her feel confident and a bit bad if she were being honest. This is not a feeling she was accustomed to, and on this morning drive out of the city into rural Georgia for her first day on the job, she was feeling a lot of things she never had before.

It wasn’t a dream job by any stretch. This was going to be work. But with so many specialty fellowships, she felt like she had what it took to turn the place around.

When she pulled into the parking lot it was clear the job was bigger than anticipated. She stood outside her car with a bag stuffed full of files and looked up at the daunting hospital. It’d been around much longer than she had. Served as a sanitarium during the TB outbreaks, now showing its age and functions as Sunny Valley Psychiatric Hospital. Much preferred to the dated terminology of lunatic asylum it had formerly held. The old chief had been there for over 30 years. A lot had changed outside of Sunny Valley but the inside hadn't. She was going to have to gut and rebuild this place from the ground up, she thought as she took a deep breath and made her way in.

———-

The murmurs started long before she’d stepped foot into the hospital. She hadn’t expected a warm welcome, it’d been a stressful time for everyone with a regime change, but the doctors, some older than her father, and all men weren’t going to be an easy sell on her as their new boss.

She understood from a statistical standpoint. She hadn’t been practicing for that many years. But in that time she had been published and was known for her unique approach to care. Her father had also donated a large sum of money to the state's Psychiatric Association. Which certainly didn’t hurt her chances. —————

So she came in with a positive, self-assured attitude. She had a game plan and now the hard work began. She meets with the doctors on staff with bold new orders. She would meet with each individual to go over the patient and their care plan. She would lay out new directives and goals, telling them she was bringing them into a new age of medicine where new research and medicine are all utilized with psychotherapy, medication, and the arts. It went over about as well as she expected. At least she was prepared for every rebuttal and excuse as she was an avid reader of medical journals. She’d infuriated a handful who resigned, but she preferred to bring in new life anyway.

She met with every employee, from groundskeepers and kitchen to housekeeping. She gave them her plans for updates and explained she was going to start looking for funding immediately and to expect changes and upgrades. Most of the staff liked her new hands-on approach, not the idea of more work but instead the idea of someone who would listen to them being in charge.

She spent days buried in files with arguments on treatment and headaches. The lingering stench of cigar smoke still hung in her office no matter how widely she opened the windows. She’d laid the base for her work, now it was time to move onto the most important part, the patients themselves.

————————-

It was Friday and the exhausting week was nowhere near finished. However, she thought she’d been able to check off a huge phase of her plan, a satisfying thick line through it on her goal list.

“There is actually one other patient that we uh… forgot.” A male nurse says as he hangs in her doorway.

“Forgot?” She says with the tone of a scolding mother. “How do you FORGET a patient?”

“He’s been in isolation and we don’t go down there much so the night crew didn’t tell us he was still down there.”

She wanted to bang her head into the desk. She thought she’d processed how poorly they were treating people but they kept on surprising her.

“This...this will not happen again. We don’t lose track of patients...of PEOPLE. We are not that sort of establishment now. I want a new record-keeping system for this sort of thing. Have it to me by the end of next week.”

“Yes ma’am." The frustrated younger man said.

“It’s Doctor Dixon. Now show me to him.” She shoos him out of the doorway.

Not even the golden hour light could salvage the depressing aesthetic of the hospital. Peeling paint and chipped tiles she had to skip over with her heels were everywhere she went. She pulled her white lab coat over her matching suit set as they made their way into an even more dreary sort of hallway. Some doors weren’t even on the hinges and inside were torn padded cells in a neglected wing of the building.

“I’d expect to find something like this in the old abandoned B building but not here. You still keep people in these things?” She says with a heavy sigh of frustration.

“Just this one. And we don’t have to use it often. Well. Just for him.” She shrugs as he finds his key.

“Who is him?”

“Harp. He’s… difficult.”

“How so?”

“Prone to violent outbursts, sleeping with other patients… staff.”

Scarlet lets out a scoff. “And he should be forgotten in a dark tiny room for that?”

“Uhh.. it’s… where we put him when he won’t listen.”

“Just… open it? Okay. I’ll deal with you and this… horrid treatment plan you have allowed here later."

“You sure you don’t want me to get someone else to help, he mi-“

“Open the damn door.” She ordered more sternly, whatever it is I can handle it.” she insisted loudly and with a glare.

For a few heavy moments, nothing happens, just an open door into a very dark room that the light doesn’t reach. The white noise of the bodies inside the building beyond the wing’s heavy double doors was slight, just a steady beat of her pulse in her ears as her eyes tried to focus. The nurse stands in a defensive body position as Scarlet peers into the room taking tentative steps forward.

She waits and then hears movement. The aid moves into the room and she follows behind, seeing how this is going to go.

“C’mon Harp.” He grunts and uses his foot to roll the man onto his front.

“Did you just…” the face of the aid turns fast to a very angry face staring daggers into him. “...kick him?”

“No ma’am I was just rolling him so he could get up easier.”

She hears a muffled grunt from the man on the floor who’s slowly moving.

“Shut up.” The aid mutters down.

Dixie takes a deep breath to compose herself. “Go to your supervisor's office and wait for me.” She states coldly.

“Ma’am I-“

“I don’t care what you have to say anymore alright? Every time I’ve given you a chance you have only continuously failed so you’re fired. Go tell HR, and send one of the female nurses this way, please.”

She gets the death stare she’d seen a million times before when correcting and enacting her authority to a man. “Yes ma’am.” He grits through his teeth.

As she hears his footsteps down the hall she begins to kneel next to this unfortunate man. “I would like to apologize for this treatment, Mister Harp.”

She sees his face, a beard just started to fill out and as unkempt as his shirt and greasy hair. It laid in the way his sleeping had moved it, he had crusts on his face and his eyes were squeezed shut from the light. She helps him sit up, being gentle but having to exert to help the large man. She let his eyes adjust and when he finally opened them to look at her his face contorted into a very confused expression.

“I’m Doctor Dixon. The previous Chief passed away and I’m his replacement. I’ll be taking care of the hospital now. And I would like to personally apologize for the mistreatment you’ve been given here previously. This is archaic and holds no scientific grounds to help patients based on formal studies.”

He really only heard a few of her rushed words. She’d lost him towards the end there but whatever she said it had sounded nice. His ears worked better than his eyes at the moment and the almost husky, thick, and sweet feminine Georgia accent rolling out of her painted mouth like sweat dripping down a glass was making him melt too.

“So the old guy finally bit it?” He croaks out after clearing his throat.

“Yes. Heart attack they said.”

“Mmmph.” Was his emotionless reply. From how he’s been treated she didn’t blame him for not being upset. So far no one had really acted upset about the news. It was very telling.

“Who are you?” He focuses his eyes on her.

“Doctor Dixon. I’m here to replace the Chief that just died.”

“Ah.” He nods and then winces.

“Would you mind if we got you out of here and cleaned up? We could speak over a good meal, I'd love to hear what you have to say about the previous administration. I want to help.”

As another nurse swept in, a broad farmer's daughter, helped her loosen the jacket and get him to the washroom. “You want to… know what I think?” He lets out a hoarse chuckle.

“Of course. You’re a part of this hospital and if I’m running it I want to know everything. Good and the bad.”

He nods and focuses on using his legs, the journey to the bath hadn’t felt this long in a while. “You take your time, schedule him down for some Physical Therapy tomorrow please. I’ll go make sure your room is ready.” She says reassuringly. He sees her disappear into the fuzz of the distance, his injection still making him groggy. —————— He’d slicked back his wild and uneven hair with water and was currently hunched over his desk in his room being allowed to eat in peace. It was nice.

“Hello? Mr. Harp?” A slightly familiar voice from his doorway says. A little redhead with a daughter of a dentist smile and perfectly coiffed big hair came and sat in the seat next to his desk. “I managed to grab an extra pudding. You want it?” She sits it on his desk as she has a seat.

It’d been a while since he’d seen anyone new and she was bright and shiny and there was plenty to look at. He looks her over and then to the cup. “A bribe?”

“No. I thought for all the hell the former establishment put you through that at the moment an extra pudding cup is the least I could do.” She gives a real smile and a huff of a laugh. Been a long time since someone had interacted with him like he wasn’t in a psychiatric ward.

“Hmmph.” He grunts and accepts the offer.

“I did want to hear about your treatment here. As I said. I want this hospital to be a place where people can receive the help and support they need to achieve their goals. I’m not here to be a warden. I’m here to be a doctor. I took an oath to help others and I seem to be one of the few around that took that seriously.” She huffs.

“You don’t act like a doctor.”

“I’m a horse of a different color I presume.”

He nods in acknowledgment and continues eating.

“I wanted to know the good and bad of the hospital previously. Because I want to fix things. The men responsible for putting you in that cell have all been fired I'd like you to know.”

“Really...taking charge of the place aren’t ya?”

“I’m being met with much resistance.” She admits with a smile.

“Let me add to it then. I have conditions.”

“Conditions? What for?” She leaned closer and he could smell her perfume. It’d been a while since he’d been buried in the neck of a woman that smelled expensive like she did.

“For this information you want.”

“Oh. Well okay. What would you like Mr. Harp?”

“For starters call me Declan.” He waves his hand. “You’re gonna be my doctor right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So I’ll be having sessions with you now?”

“Correct.”

“We starting tomorrow?”

“If you wish.”

“I do. And I want you to have me something waiting in your office when I come in.”

“What would that be?”

“A cheeseburger.”

“A cheeseburger?” She laughs.

“The biggest you can find from the greasiest place you know of.”

She laughs and nods enthusiastically. “Consider it done.” She says happily.

“Really?”

“Why not?” she shrugs. “Perfectly reasonable request.”

He blinks in surprise at her but with dark narrowed eyes. “I’ll sing like a bird for you after I have that burger then.”

“Consider it a deal.” She holds out her hand to shake on it and the trust she was showing for him not to yank her down and have his way with her was astounding.

“Lookin forward to it, Doc…?” He shakes her hand.

“Dixon.” She adds with no annoyance for repeating it.

“Doctor Dixon. Alright. See you then.”

“Looking forward to it.” She repeats back playfully and he’s left with a visible confused expression on his face for the pleasant interaction he’d just had with someone in charge. He didn’t know if he was happy about or ashamed of himself. But she had certainly caught his interest.

——————————

“Hey, there jailbird.” says the woman in the worn chair. She was sitting incorrectly as always, this time with her legs over the arm of the chair.

“Hey, Alex.” He sighs to his only real friend in the hospital.

“Was this a new record?” She asks, turning her head from the old television in the activity room towards a tired and beaten up looking Declan.

“I don’t know. I was the one in the box I don’t know what day it is.”

“Thursday.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah, you really pissed them off last time.” She laughs. “Can’t keep your charm to yourself can you?”

“No ma’am.” He wears a sly grin. “Speaking of have you seen that new doctor?”

“New doctor director.” She corrects with a point of a finger. “Yes, I have.”

“What do you think about her?”

“I like her.”

“Really? You like no one.” He questions her motives.

“I saw her today. She’s...different.”

“Yeah. Different. That’s what I thought.” He hums in thought.

“I’m surprised you haven’t made sweet sweet love to that little peachy assed firecracker.” Alex jokes.

“Oh, it’s been on mind ever since I came to and saw her walk out of my room in that tight little skirt.”

“She is...yeah.” Alex blushes slightly. “But she was actually nice to me. Was strange.”

“Yeah me too. It was...new.” He runs his arm and settles into his chair.

“She wrote down my complaints. Apparently, she has for everyone so far. She called down to the office and fired Jones because I told her what he did to me.”

“Yeah, she fired numb nuts that threw me in.”

“You should play nice with this one. She might be a good one.”

“I wouldn’t bruise that peach.”

“You’ll have to practice your lying. You’ve gotten rusty.” She grins.

“I don’t plan on it. If she comes through with my request I’m gonna tell her about all this bullshit.”

“She even mentioned… getting out.” She adds in a quieter more serious tone and Declan immediately notices and changes his focus.

“What’d she say?” He whispers with great interest.

“Apparently a few years back the...psychiatry people said homosexuality was no longer a mental illness. So she’s going to work to get that removed from my paperwork and we can work on the rest. It’ll “improve my chances of being released tremendously” Alex mocks the doctor's heavy southern drawl.

“Yeah she’s a little belle isn’t she?” He laughs.

“I mean her name is Scarlett for fucks sake. She is a debutante.”

“Well fuck me that’s a sexy name.”

“Don’t I know it. About creamed my cotton panties when she told me. Dr. Scarlett Dixon.” She mocks again.

“I’m gonna make her cream hers.” Declan promises with wiggling eyebrows.

“I’m sure you will stud. But play nice. She could be useful. Plus she has a fiancé. Didn’t you see that big rock on her hand?”

“I didn’t.” He shakes his head. “Never stopped me before.”

“Not much has.”

——————————-

Scarlet got home late, almost nodding off from overwork and the calming quiet of the drive. She yawns and wakes herself up before entering her house she shared with her fiancé currently.

“Hello, Phillip.” She sighs out, seeing him with his glasses on and hunched over his desk in his office by the front door. “Did Wilamena make dinner as I requested?”

“Yeah. It’s...in the fridge.” He doesn’t look up when responding.

“Do you have a minute? I had a big day today.” She says sheepishly.

He looks up and sighs. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to tell you about my day is all. Big changes coming with this job.” She bounces on her feet excitedly.

“You’re working in a nuthouse Dixie how interesting can it be?”

“Very. Actually. And that’s a rather offensive term so please don’t refer to it in that way. Especially at the fundraiser coming up.”

“When was that again?”

“Tuesday.” She sighs. She’d told him so many times and it was so important to her.

“Mmm.” He answers.

“What does Hmm mean?” She asks with her irritation showing.

“I might have something that night.”

“Of course you do.” She mutters and rubs her temple.

“I’m a busy man.” He says lazily but defensively.

“Yeah. And I’m a busy woman and still manage to find time for everything.” She says quietly but sharply.

“Do you want the work I do for your father to suffer? Do you want me to mess up one of his legal proceedings and have him arrested? Because that’s what happens when I don’t work Dixie.”

With her jaw tight she huffs air out of her nose in frustration. “Of course I don’t.” She says bitterly. “I just wish you had time to be my fiancé and not just my father's lawyer. We don’t even… sleep together anymore. You realize it’s been months?”

“Has it?” He asks rhetorically with his eyes back to his desk.

“Yes. I had a good day and thought I could share my successes and you could validate my hard work and I could have some attention from you to celebrate things going well.”

“I need to know these things in advance. I can’t just up and be in a mood to give you attention. I’m-“

“A busy man. I know.” She sighs and lets her hands hit her hips. She went to bed frustrated and alone after eating cold leftovers while standing in her kitchen. Who was she to give people advice anyway? She certainly didn’t have her shit together.

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness  @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s 

[kaeyas-beloved]

To Brighten Someone’s Day {Jumin x Reader} [REPOST]

Note: So I was going through my posts and I found out that I deleted a one-shot I wrote about a year and a half ago which??? Is weird cause I usually make sure I don’t delete something unless I want to???

So Imma just repost it here and now ^^

Request:

Anonymous asked: The ask box is fixed now. My friend is a fan of your writing and loves Jumin Han. Her birthday and his are in the same day and she is sad lately. I was wondering if you could write a little story for it with mc and Jumin celebrating their birthdays on the same day. Thank you very much. Thank you for answering. -^=^ P.s have a very good day.

~~~

A groan escapes her lips as the early morning rays of sun shine through the blinds, blinding her. ‘Jumin must have opened them up’ she thought. Her days at work and school have been really stressing her out lately, dampening her mood even when not doing any work as a result. A groan rumbles in her throat at the realization on what day it is, ‘It’s Jumin and I’s birthday…’ With another groan, (Y/N) rolls out of the comfy and warm king-sized bed and heads to the kitchen, barring the best smile that she could muster up for the morning.

The scent of Jumin’s famous home-made pancakes can be caught upon entering the room, a sweet scent that brings somewhat truth to the fake smile. His pancakes never cease to bring a smile to her face. She walks up behind him and wraps her arms around him, placing her face flush against his back. Jumin spins in her embrace and gladly returns it. She didn’t know this but Jumin was well aware of her current drop in mood therefore leading him to plan and make this day the best for her.

Her happiness is his happiness after all.

“Happy birthday, my love” he wished to his wife, a smile on his face. (Y/N) moves her head to look up at Jumin in the eyes, returning the smile.

“Happy birthday to you too, darling.” She wishes back.

“I made your favourite, strawberry flavoured pancakes” Jumin turns back to the stove, (Y/N) standing to his right, watching intently as he cooked.

“But, Jumin, today is not only my day, it’s your too…” she reminds him. Jumin simply chuckles.

“Yes, I know kitten.” Is all he says before he turns off the stove and ushers her to take a seat at the table. Once she’s seated Jumin brings two plates full of nice, warm pancakes, setting one in front of (Y/N) and the other in front of himself.

“What are we doing to celebrate this time, Jumin?” she asks. She knows that Jumin is still somewhat of a mellow man, not to big on celebrations. He has enough of those with his job. The usual activities that are done is sitting at home, cuddling each other, as well as Elizabeth the 3rd, maybe watching a movie or two and finishing off with going out to a fancy restaurant for dinner. He will also usually state these plans, or at least some, but his next sentence leaves her confused and a little shocked.

“It’s a surprise, my love”

Finishing up breakfast, Jumin grabs the plates and brings them to the sink, (Y/N) following to clean them. When Jumin notices what’s she about to do he stops her, “I’ll get someone to clean these but I need you to go get dressed.” Again, confusion paints her face. She goes to open her mouth to ask a question but Jumin is quick to start talking again, “And no, nothing formal. Just something casual.” With a reluctant nod, (Y/N) heads back to the bedroom to get changed.

Summer is just ending and the weather is starting to turn into cool temperatures, perfect weather for a nice light brown hoodie, black leggings and a grey toque. Exiting and making her way to the door, she is surprised to see Jumin already in clothes, ‘Wasn’t he just in PJs?’, and casual clothes at that! Jumin actually looks pretty good without a suit, blue jeans and a grey t-shirt along with a blue jean jacket and a black toque replacing it. Man, Jumin Han is full of surprises today…

“Ready, Love?” (Y/N) nods her head yes and Jumin gives a small smile. Jumin and (Y/N) then exit the penthouse, off to the first mystery destination of the day.

Walking through a park like a normal couple has proven to be relaxing. No bodyguards, no renting out the entire park just for the two of them, just a normal walk. It actually feels really nice. The cool breeze blows throw her hair, hair ending up going in her face. Jumin leans down and tucks it behind her ear, sneaking a kiss on the forehead while doing so. Her cheeks are a light shade of pink, the breeze not being the only cause. Jumin merely chuckling lightly and continues to walk hand-in-hand through the park with her.

Next stop, Jaehee’s house. Why? Well because Jumin along with all the other members are throwing a surprise party for her and just a normal party for Jumin, since he was the one who thought of the idea. Walking into the home, immediately the RFA yell “SURPRISE” and confetti are popped. Wishes of Happy Birthday are tossed around by the members to both Jumin and (Y/N), smiles all around. Presents are given, cake is eaten and laughs are shared with the family she had made with them all, especially her husband, Jumin. 9 o’clock rolls around pretty fast when you’re with the people that you love the most, and its now time to go home. Walking back to the penthouse, a smile still on her face, (Y/N) has completely forgotten about all the stress and depression she’s been feeling and that’s a win for Jumin. He did what he was hoping to do, cheer up (Y/N) on such a special day for her and him.

An hour later that’s filled with wine and cuddles, Jumin decides he needs to tell her something.

“My love?” She hums in acknowledgment. “You know, I did realize your sudden change in mood, right?” (Y/N) chuckles slightly at his confession.

“Should have known, nothing gets past the Jumin Han…” It was meant as somewhat of a joke but Jumin, at this moment, is all serious.

“Darling, you know you can talk to me if something is bothering you. I hate seeing you so sad, even the tiniest bit hurts me.” Sensing the serious atmosphere, (Y/N) answers back with a sigh and the same level of seriousness as him.

“I know Jumin, I just… I don’t know…” Jumin pulls her towards him, arms wrapping around her, keeping her in a loving and warm hug.

“I won’t force you to tell me right now, just know that I am here whenever you need me. So… just come to me when need be”

(Y/N) exhales out of her nose, calm now that she knows that Jumin is here with her no matter what.

“I will, Jumin. Thank you, I love you.” She mumbles into his chest. His safe and secure and loving body. One that will be with her through ever step it takes to ease her problems.

Smiling Jumin replies, tightening his hold slightly and bringing (Y/N) closer, “I love you too, (Y/N). Forever and always, no matter what…”

[mendrax]

My first review of Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time

Here’s my first impression under the cut...

The franchise as art.

Not just the Eva franchise but the concept of a franchise itself. Because franchises, as they exist in the world of filmmaking, are inherently a capitalist product designed for escapism. Let’s go to the movies for a brand new chapter in the ever-sprawling saga of commoditized characters conquering a new mile in the millennially trotted hero journey, yay! Isn’t that how you can describe the act of purchasing a ticket to the latest entry in your favorite franchise? And what’s so wrong with that, anyway? After all, we need our escapism when life becomes unbearable. It’s just a public service really!

And is Eva really that different? At the end of the day, no matter how avant-garde it can be, it’s still a product that we’ve come to consume, quite literally, again and again. Not only that, but it’s also a damn good profitable IP with millions of merchandise goods, box-office record numbers and, now, a distribution deal with one of the gods of capitalism: Amazon. Long gone are the days of non-profit experiencing of it. You can now legally pay to watch its whole audiovisual canon in Netflix and Prime.

Still, even after its paradoxical commodification, the text of Eva itself remains as a message of anti-escapism. No matter how many figures, blu-rays and streaming services you pay for, the message of Eva remains the same. A message that quite starkly opposes itself to this escapist consumerism. Even if, ironically, is this very message that, due to its humanity, has touched the hearts of millions who have then turned it into another comfort food. This is so sad, alexa play komm, susser tod…

Now, cynicism aside, the reason 3.0+1.0 elevates the concept of a franchise to an art form is, quite simply, because, at its best, art is a method of communication delivering a message that could only be delivered through its chosen medium. I could very easily tell you to go outside and touch some grass, talk to your parents and hug your dearest, but that’d never have the same impact as experiencing the Eva franchise from start to finish.

3.0+1.0 is a film that can’t work without experiencing all the films and TV episodes before it. I mean, it has its own beginning, middle and end but, really, its message can’t be as impactful without the other entries in its franchise. The film itself rehashes images and situations we’ve come to intimately know from its predecessors. Not only that but it converses with them, presenting nuanced and overt contrasts of key moments. Particularly in its final act, we see the reversal and echoes of a lot of moments from End of Evangelion. Asuka gets mangled, not by outside forces, but by her own doing. Misato gets shot but she survives this. Ritsuko shots Gendo, but doesn’t kill him. Shinji doesn’t punish Gendo by devouring him through Unit-01, but instead saves him by getting close to him. This last one might be one of the most heart-wrenching moments in the whole movie, which, it’s worth noting, serves as the wholesome counterpart to EoE’s bitter ending. To say nothing of the contrast 3.0+1.0 presents to EoE’s beach scene…

But these are all narrative points that, with some serious talent, could even be conveyed through literary form and film, as we know, its powerful because its an audiovisual medium. And here’s where Eva, time and again, separates itself from most, if not all, franchises in recent memory. Its images are not only narrative but discursive. I’d even argue that, come its ending, Eva uses images that don’t really advance its plot, but rather help to cement its discourse, its message. And its been doing that since eps 25-26… The last minutes of Eva will always be a Brechtian assault on the senses with images that demand to be studied and interpreted. They’re not there to finish the bedtime story with a kiss on the forehead of your overworked soul, but to shake it out of its zombie state and fill you with emotions you can’t even describe through words until much later, if at all… I believe that’s why a lot of us have come back to Eva again and again. Not necessarily for its plot, but for the rise of emotions and thoughts that bolt through your core as you experience its final moments and how they re-paint the whole journey you’ve just travelled to get there.

3.0+1.0 is filled with such images that, one day, I’d love to analyze. I’m still too shocked from having watched it almost 20 hrs ago and this is already too long, so I’ll leave this task for subsequent viewings… still my mind can’t help but replay certain images over and over, even as I write this… from Misato looking at the photo of her son and Shinji… Kaworu crying as Shinji extends his hand to him… the juxtaposition of Unit-01 lying on its side, staring at the phallic ruins of Nerv HQ, and Shinji, on the same position and equally sized, staring at the piano he played with Kaworu… baby Shinji blatantly rejecting Gendo, only to find comfort with his mom, and baby Asuka painfully looking at this from afar… to the shot of Shinji and Rei, discussing the neon genesis, on an dismantled theater, as frames from the TV anime are projected onto them and the brick wall behind them… I can’t word what these images mean yet, but I’m looking forward to doing it one day…

I suppose this has turned into a long ramble, but I’m still sure of my opening thought. 3.0+1.0 takes elements of every entry on the Evangelion franchise to express a message that could only be conveyed with such impact by having consumed the entire franchise beforehand, and it does so in a way that doesn’t perpetuate the comfortable escapism of other franchises. Its very message of anti-escapism and use of images that converse emotionally, aesthetically, and intellectually with the viewer prevent it from being purely a capitalist product designed for escapism. It’s a piece of art, worth of being discussed at the same level of any work from a grand master of any other type of art. But it’s also a franchise… hopefully this will inspire more franchises as art forms.

And now, as a post-scriptum, because no review of Eva is worth anything without some shameless personal history, I must say that my journey with Eva has been like none other piece of media… I was introduced by it at 18 years old, fresh out of high school, by the person who would become my best friend, and I remember, back then, finding it incredibly comforting and enigmatic. It helped me through a period of drastic change in my life, from changing majors halfway from English to Film, to becoming an older brother at 19 (after a life of being an only child). I was incredibly depressed and struggled with addiction for years after that. I related to Shinji and his perpetual running away from life but, now, seven years later I got to see the conclusion to that journey my best friend invited me to… I also earned my bachelor’s degree in film, have a comfortable job and have been sober for 10 months. I don’t run away as much but I’d be lying if I wasn’t still, somewhat, disconnected from most people in my life. To be honest, I related so much to Gendo’s story on this film and that scared me. It’s still hard to let people in but, still, there’s been some growth. Small victories that allowed me to accept this final film’s message as completely valid. It’s just so wholesome, isn’t it? And yet, there’s a bittersweetness to it… like in every ending, you’re glad it happened but it’s painful coming to terms that it’s over. I cried for a good thirty minutes after it was over, washing the tears away, only to stare at my reflection and turn into a sobbing mess… I’ll never get to experience anything like this for the first time and that’s just incredibly sad… still, I’m so fucking glad for it all, even the wait (as shorter as it was for me) and I do believe I’ll be able to say bye-bye, all of Evangelion… one day.

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Nie Huaisang goes home, tries to deal with missing his friends, and gets a visitor

Nie Huaisang’s last month in the Cloud Recesses passes so fast that he hardly has time to register it. 

Much against his will, he gets roped into joining Jiang Cheng’s study sessions. Those turn out to be rather intense, and Jiang Cheng might be a more severe teacher than even old Lan Qiren. It pays off though, because everyone passes their exams with flying colours. Even Nie Huaisang ends up with a pretty decent grade, in spite of his refusal to put any effort into this. 

Lan Qiren congratulates him on actually putting some work into this at last, in answer to which Nie Huaisang just laughs to his face, too stunned to even get angry. He is still in a daze when he leaves the teacher’s office with his diploma in hand. He had honestly prepared himself to have failed again and he wouldn’t even have cared, but apparently he had underestimated Jiang Cheng’s determination to see everyone succeed.

“Come on, try to at least look a little happy!” Jiang Cheng scolds him later, when they all get to the Jiang cabin to celebrate. “What, did you want to stay here another year with Lan Xichen?”

Nie Huaisang scoffs and shoves him away before stuffing a handful of dried nuts in his mouth, pointedly refusing to answer such a stupid question.

He hasn’t seen a lot of Lan Xichen this last month. They’ve both been pretty busy, and Lan Qiren cancelled their last two compulsory meetings to give Nie Huaisang a better chance to study. But what little time they spent together has been… not so bad. They’ve managed to chat a little when they met in passing, and the meetings they did have were… fine. The first one was spent painting together, with Lan Xichen still exquisitely awful at Nie Huaisang’s style. The second they played Go and Nie Huaisang won, though it was a very close score. Both times, they actually ended up staying together after the incense stick had finished burning. It’s not even that Nie Huaisang hadn’t noticed. He was just having enough fun to allow it, just that time. And then again the time after.

It’s not that Nie Huaisang likes Lan Xichen any better than before. It’s not even that he’s stopped hating him. But what’s fun is fun, and to his surprise… Lan Xichen, on occasion, can be rather fun.

Nowhere near as fun as Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan, of course. The two of them make Nie Huaisang promise that he'll write to them and come visit. He extracts the same promise from them, and even gets them to grudgingly agree they might tolerate some overlap in their visits, if he so badly wants to have them around at the same time. 

More surprisingly, Lan Wangji also comes knocking on the last day Nie Huaisang spends in the Cloud Recesses. He too offers a correspondence, which Nie Huaisang readily accepts. He doesn't say, but he's already plotting to invite Lan Wangji to Qinghe, and perhaps by some planning on error on his part, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian will be there at the same time. 

More surprising, Lan Xichen also comes visiting a few hours after his brother. For a moment Nie Huaisang half wonders if he too will ask if they can write to each other. In the end he doesn't, choosing instead to say a few empty words about being proud of his fiancé's well deserved success. Nie Huaisang, who is not disappointed by this, ends up sending him away so he can finish packing. 

-

Being home again is the best.

Nie Huaisang's first week back in the Unclean Realm is, without a doubt, the happiest time of his life. He tells Nie Mingjue everything he's done while he was away (everything he can share, anyway). He visits all his favourite spots in the Unclean Realm, in Qinghe, and in the countryside around. He checks on his surviving birds and dotes on them. He sleeps in as late as he can, and refuses to do anything even slightly useful. It's paradise. 

By the second week, paradise loses some of its glow and boredom settles in. Doing nothing at all is only fun for a short while. More importantly, Nie Huaisang soon finds himself kind of lonely. Now that he's had friends, the company of his birds doesn't quite satisfy him the way it used to. His myna can speak a few sentences, but that's just not the same as chatting with Jiang Cheng or arguing with Jin Zixuan. Nie Mingue is there, but he's far too busy, as are most of the disciples. Nie Fangjie rose in rank after his time in Gusu and is rarely free, while He Zimu had to go home to meet the fiancée his parents picked for him. 

Nie Huaisang writes to all his friends, but it'll be a long while before he gets an answer, and that depresses him further. He doesn't quite fall back to the sort of moods he was in during his first year in the Cloud Recesses, but it's not so far off either. 

The difference is that this time, Nie Mingjue notices. 

It's a right pain in the ass at first, because Nie Huaisang wants to wallow in his misery while his brother is determined to drag him out of it, even kicking and screaming. It sparks quite a few arguments between them, which is rather new. Nie Huaisang never really had the guts to argue with his brother before. Nie Mingjue doesn't seem to mind, anyway. If anything, he seems pretty happy to find that his little brother won't let himself be pushed around so easily. 

By the end of Nie Huaisang's first month back at home, they've reached a balance of sorts. Nie Huaisang has to train daily, both with the sabre and in hand-to-hand combat since he definitely still enjoys that. He also has to learn how to help Nie Mingjue deal with sect business, which is even more boring than the lectures in the Cloud Recesses, but gives them a decent excuse to spend time together. Nie Mingjue doesn't say, but Nie Huaisang suspects it's also a way to prepare him for the role that will be his in the future. Qingheng-Jun is a healthy man with many years ahead of him, but someday Lan Xichen will have to succeed him and Nie Huaisang will have to step up and help him. 

With all this piling up, when Nie Huaisang does get a bit of freedom, he rarely mopes around. There are too many things to paint, too many fans to decorate, and his birds to train, and that shop in Qinghe he wants to visit, or that new book of poetry he found in the library. 

Which isn't to say there are no bad days anymore. Some mornings it's a struggle just to get out of bed. Nie Mingjue doesn't get it, even if he tries, and seems to think that on those days Nie Huaisang needs to be kept even busier than usual to push away any bad thoughts. After it happens once or twice, Nie Huaisang gives up on explaining why that doesn't work. Instead, when a bad mood strikes, he just hides. It's easy enough, in a place like the Unclean Realm. 

The best place to hang out undisturbed, Nie Huaisang figures out, is a little alcove hidden behind the throne room where his brother conducts his meetings. Nobody ever goes in there, and he's half sure nobody even remembers it exists. He's done some research, and it was built alongside the main room so the sect leader's wives could listen in on important business without being seen by guests. It's not very big, but it's comfortable enough that he can lounge around and paint, or read, or just listen to his brother's increasing frustration over not finding him. It also means that if something really does require his presence, he can know and appear quickly at his brother's side. 

It's Nie Huaisang’s second favourite place in the Unclean Realm, right after the place where he keeps his birds. 

It's a little under two months after returning home that Nie Huaisang, hiding in his alcove and slowly recovering from a bout of depression by snickering over some very bad poetry, is startled to hear a familiar voice conversing with his brother. 

"I'm really sorry for dropping by unannounced," Lan Xichen is saying. "I apologise for the inconvenience. But since I was in the area, I thought it'd be ridiculous not to say hi." 

Even perfectly hidden as he is, Nie Huaisang can't help but tense. This is the first time he's anywhere near Lan Xichen since graduating a few weeks ago. He's not nervous, of course he's not, but he's also. He's not quite comfortable. 

"Well, you know I'm always happy to see you," Nie Mingjue replies. "I'm a little busy right now, but if you don't mind waiting…" 

"Actually…" 

There is a moment of silence. Nie Huaisang is tempted to check what's happening through one of the small openings that exist for that exact purpose, but before he gets to that, Lan Xichen speaks again. 

"Actually, and I hope you won't mind," he says, sounding oddly uncertain, "but the person I was most hoping to see is your brother. I'll be happy to chat with you as well of course, but if he allows it I'd like to spend time with him first." 

Nie Huaisang feels punched, but in the main room, his brother just laughs. 

"What, you didn't get enough of that brat last year? After how much you complained that he doesn't like you, I'd have thought you'd be glad not to see him until the wedding." 

"Mingjue, don't tease me." 

"Why not? I don't get the chance often. Oh, fine, I won't. I will survive this betrayal of seeing my brother's company preferred over mine, so go chat with him if you like. You'll have to find him first, though. He's gotten a little too good at hiding." 

"Then with your permission, I'll look for him. I'm sure he'll let himself be found if he wishes to be, and otherwise… I'll just wait for you to be free." 

Lan Xichen sounds so resigned, as if he dares not hope for the first option but the second would make him sad. 

It's just so awkward to hear him be like this. Nie Huaisang almost miss the days when Lan Xichen was nothing but cold and insufferable. It made it easy to hate him, and at least Nie Huaisang knew where they stood. Now though… he just doesn't know what to make of his fiancé anymore. He's starting to wonder if maybe Lan Xichen wasn't sincere every time he's said that he wants them to get along, when he promised to improve and that's absolutely awful. It makes everything too complicated. 

So Nie Huaisang discreetly escapes, and takes hidden paths to go be with his birds. It's not as good of a hiding place, but their company always calms him down, which he badly needs. Luckily it's even cleaning day, so that's a good hour of hard, gruesome work to distract him from the perspective of maybe facing his fiancé later. 

There's only a few birds left, which still takes Nie Huaisang by surprise every time even though he should be used to it now. That incident really decimated them, and he can't even get new ones. In little more than a year, two at most, he'll have to leave them behind for good, so it'd be pointless. Usually it doesn’t bother him too much, but on a day where his mood is already so near to collapsing... As he cleans the cages and checks on food and water, Nie Huaisang finds himself focusing on that future loss. If he thinks of everything that he'll leave behind, he can make himself hate Lan Xichen again, almost, and he’s in a bad enough state that feeling hatred is better than not feeling anything at all.

"Good afternoon, Nie gongzi." 

Nie Huaisang startles at the sudden appearance of Lan Xichen in this private space, and nearly drops the seeds he was carrying for his pair of parakeets. He quickly recovers though, and bows to his visitor. 

"Lan gongzi, what a surprise! I had no idea you were coming to the Unclean Realm. If you're looking for my brother, you might want to try the training grounds."

"I've seen your brother already, and told him you were the one I was visiting this time," Lan Xichen explains. Even though Nie Huaisang already knew that, it sends his heart racing to hear it said so calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Mingjue was not sure where you might be," Lan Xichen continues, "so he allowed me to look for you while he handles other business. This seemed like a good place to start, and I was right." 

His heart still beating too hard in embarrassment, Nie Huaisang turns around, ostensibly so he can continue feeding his birds. 

"Lan gongzi must find me very childish, still so obsessed with my pets." 

Lan Xichen does not reply right away. Nie Huaisang hates how careful he has become, just as much as he is grateful for it. 

"If I have accused you of this, and for that reason, I'm sorry," he says at last, sounding painfully earnest. "It was wrong of me. From what your brother says, you are very diligent at caring for your birds and except when forced to go away, you always take full responsibility for them. There's nothing childish about that."

Nie Huaisang's heart squeezes at the words, so painfully he almost feels like he's dying. He hates this. He misses the days when he could just tell himself it was all fake, that Lan Xichen was either forcing himself or subtly insulting him.

"You're always trying so hard to say the right thing," Nie Huaisang accuses, with far less venom than he intended.

"I hope I can do the right thing as well. Just saying it doesn't do much good." 

Nie Huaisang sighs. This is annoying. He hates that his heart beats so fast, he hates that his cheeks feel warmer, he hates that he desperately wants Lan Xichen to be sincere. He hates that he's certain Lan Xichen is sincere.

"Listen, just… give me a moment to finish this," he mutters. "Then we can go back and have tea or something. We have actual, nice biscuits here. They even taste sweet, if you can believe that." 

Behind him, Lan Xichen chuckles lightly. It's not an unpleasant sound, as Nie Huaisang has discovered during his last few weeks in Gusu.

"If you tell me what to do, I can try to help you," Lan Xichen offers. "Though I'll understand if you'd rather I didn't." 

"You'll get messy." 

Another soft chuckle, making Nie Huaisang’s heart beat too hard. It's stupid, and he hates that like he hates all the rest, but he likes that Lan Xichen stopped trying to be controlled and perfect with him. He likes it too much. He hates it. 

"I can survive a little mess." 

"Then grab that bucket and bring it near that big cage." 

"The one with the myna?" 

"Hm." 

Nie Huaisang hates that Lan Xichen apparently knows a little about birds. He hates that Lan Xichen doesn't complain as he grabs that bucket filled with filth and carries it as if it weighs nothing. He hates that Lan Xichen smiles at the bird inside and comments how pretty it is. Nie Huaisang hates Lan Xichen because that's what he's done for so long now, and he's not ready yet to face the new warmth in his chest when he looks at the other boy. 

He hates everything today, and wishes Lan Xichen had chosen another day to visit, one where Nie Huaisang is capable of feeling emotions in a normal way so he could try to sort this out in a rational way.

When the birds’ cages are spotless and they all have clean water and fresh food, Nie Huaisang has no choice but to suggest it’s time to return toward the main buildings. Lan Xichen readily agrees and they start walking side by side. It doesn’t take long for something to bother Nie Huaisang, partly because it’s that sort of a day where everything is annoying, but also because a certain detail is becoming hard to ignore.

“How come your clothes are still spotless when mine are filthy?” he complains.

“I must have been more careful,” Lan Xichen replies with a small smile.

“You were not,” Nie Huaisang accuses. “I saw you step in several puddles of dirty water. Your robes have no right to still be this white!”

Lan Xichen chuckles, but says nothing.

“I’m going to have to get changed,” Nie Huaisang laments, annoyed that he is actually upset by that idea. “I mean, I wasn’t planning on having a guest today, so I wasn’t exactly well dressed to begin with. I just wanted something comfortable. But now seeing the two of us together, we look like a great lord and a peasant!”

“Nie gongzi is too handsome to be a peasant.”

Hearing this unexpected compliment, Nie Huaisang stumbles and almost falls face first on the ground, only for Lan Xichen to catch him just in time.

“This is… you’re just trying to distract me from your clean robes!” Nie Huaisang sputters, escaping his fiancé’s grasp so quickly that he almost falls again. “I demand to know how you did that!”

“It’s a Gusu Lan secret,” Lan Xichen retorts, smug enough that it almost feels like teasing. “In due time, I will share it with you, but at the moment, it’s impossible.”

“But there is a trick.”

“Obviously. Can you imagine how many servants we’d have to hire for laundry otherwise? We make children wear white, and people going on Night Hunts as well. Of course there’s a trick.”

It might be the way Lan Xichen says it, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, or the sheer ridicule of imagining Lan disciples in stained robes, but Nie Huaisang finds himself laughing. It's never easy to get that on days like this one, and he’s suddenly glad that Lan Xichen came. His fiancé is proving a more efficient distraction than what he’s tried so far.

When they reach the more frequented areas of the Unclean Realm, Nie Huaisang catches a servant and asks for tea to be served in his room. He then takes Lan Xichen there, inviting the older boy to find somewhere to sit. At first Lan Xichen appears torn between amused and mildly horrified by the mess (Nie Huaisang wasn’t expecting guests, and Nie Mingjue gave up on that particular fight years ago) before gaping in shock when Nie Huaisang removes his outer robe in the middle of the room and throws it in a corner for the servant to pick up later.

“Nie gongzi, are you really getting changed?” he asks, sounding so worried that Nie Huaisang can’t help laughing again.

“Lan gongzi, I’m covered in bird poop and mud, of course I’m getting changed. Ah! Don’t worry, I won’t remove the rest in front of you,” Nie Huaisang adds when Lan Xichen looks like he’s about to have an attack. He motions at a modesty screen. “I’m just removing my shoes and grabbing something clean to put on and then… I’ll try to be quick.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I leave the room?” Lan Xichen protests in a strangled voice, his face completely red.

“No need, that’s what the screen is for, and I’m not bothered. Just sit down, grab a book, and wait for me.”

Without paying his fiancé any more attention, Nie Huaisang selects some nicer robes and clean under layers. Once he starts undressing, he realises that he is dirtier than he initially thought, and is forced to give a quick wash with some water and a towel so he doesn’t ruin his clean clothes.

“I thought you were just getting changed?” Lan Xichen notes when he hears water being poured from its jug into a basin.

“The situation is worse than I thought. Cleaning is dirty business.”

Lan Xichen chuckles at that. “I’ll need to wash my hands as well, come to think of it.”

“Well, you can join me if you’d like. I’m mostly decent, if you’re loose enough on your definition of the word.”

“And what’s your definition?” Lan Xichen asks in a voice dripping with suspicion.

“I’ve got trousers on.”

A moment of silence follows this.

“I think I’ll wait until you’re done,” Lan Xichen says after a moment, and Nie Huaisang grins to himself imagining how uncomfortable his ever proper fiancé must look.

Still, it’d be rude to keep Lan Xichen waiting, and Nie Huaisang’s mood has improved enough that he doesn’t want that. He washes quickly, and gets dressed as fast as he can. His hair, as messy as the rest, is dealt with by tying it into a quick braid. It’s not the most refined he’s ever looked, but it’s not the worst either. When he emerges from behind the modesty screen, Lan Xichen stares at him with an odd expression, his cheeks dusted with red and his lips slightly open.

“Nie gongzi… this suits you well,” he mumbles, averting his gaze.

“Trying too hard again,” Nie Huaisang teases. “Go wash your hands, the tea should be here soon.”

Lan Xichen nods and gets up from the table. He takes a few steps toward the screen, then stops himself and looks for something inside his sleeve before handing it to Nie Huaisang.

“A letter?”

“Since Wangji knew I would be in the area, he asked me to give you this.”

Fidgeting with the piece of paper, Nie Huaisang feels something shifting inside him, as if the good humour he only just got back were already melting away.

“Well, that’s nice,” he stills says. “Do you mind if I start reading it?”

“Not at all.”

And so while Lan Xichen washes his hands, Nie Huaisang gets reading. It’s a short letter, clearly just written because the occasion was there (Nie Huaisang only answered Lan Wangji’s latest missive a few days ago, it wouldn’t have reached Gusu yet). Most of it is about the rabbits, though Lan Wangji notes that they are preparing for the next batch of guest disciples to arrive and he’s hoping they’ll be a quieter bunch this year. It’s only an innocent comment, but reading it makes Nie Huaisang ache for the company of his friends in a way he thought he’d learned to manage. It was so much fun to be all together in the Cloud Recesses, completely carefree. If he had known that he’d have to start behaving more grown-up upon getting home, Nie Huaisang would have gotten up to far more mischief, and he would have tried to enjoy his fun even more.

Just as Lan Xichen is done tidying himself, servants come in with the tea and some very fancy biscuits. Nie Huaisang gave specific orders regarding what’s to be served, amused at that moment by the idea of forcing his fiancé to enjoy something once in a while. It doesn’t seem so funny anymore, not even when Lan Xichen is looking at the biscuits with a mix of gluttony and worry.

It must show that Nie Huaisang’s mood is vacillating. When he’s done pouring tea for both of them, Lan Xichen has stopped staring at the treats and shoots him a concerned look instead.

"I hope the letter did not contain bad news?" 

"No, it did not. I'm just distracted." 

Lan Xichen sips on his tea and hesitantly picks up a biscuit, but does not eat it. 

"Speaking of letters… I have to admit I envy my brother," he says in that cold, careful voice that still annoys Nie Huaisang with how controlled it sounds. 

"How so?" 

"When Wangji told me you agreed to a correspondence with him, I wanted to obtain the same from you," Lan Xichen admits, distractedly playing with his biscuit. "I even went to see you to ask for it, but in the end I wasn't sure if I should, so I said nothing. I didn't want to overstep some boundary." 

Nie Huaisang thinks back on Lan Xichen's brief visit on the last day. He'd been disappointed when his fiancé didn't have anything to say to him that time. He doesn't exactly miss their excruciating weekly meetings but they were still part of what was clearly the best year of his life, and maybe he wouldn't have hated keeping in touch. 

"You can always ask me now," Nie Huaisang offers. "We'll see what I answer." 

"Very well. Nie gongzi, would you be willing to exchange letters with me?" 

Nie Huaisang, to his own surprise, doesn't even hesitate. 

"I'd like that, yes." 

The smile that breaks onto Lan Xichen's face is nothing short of radiant. It's unfair, really, how gorgeous he gets when he's genuinely happy, and Nie Huaisang doesn't know how he feels about being the reason for that happiness. He doesn’t hate it, he supposes. He doesn’t hate Lan Xichen in general, in fact. It’s an odd thing to realise.

Nie Huaisang picks up a biscuit and bites into it, hoping to encourage his fiancé to stop being stupid and have a little fun. It works. Lan Xichen gives in and nibbles at his own biscuit. His eyes widen slightly as the flavour hits his tongue, and in a moment he devours the rest of it. Nie Huaisang snorts, more endeared than he’d prefer.

“So, do you want to talk about something?” Nie Huaisang asks, refusing to linger on the thought that his fiancé can be a little cute at times.

“Yes, actually. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but never found the right occasion yet,” Lan Xichen announces. “I would like to suggest some arrangements for when we are married.”

Nie Huaisang freezes and stares at him. As a rule, they don’t talk about their future marriage. They never have, except sometimes when arguing. Even in a good mood, Nie Huaisang wouldn’t want to breach that subject, so today, when he’s fighting the need to go hide until everything stop being so much…

“I don’t think I want to talk about that,” he replies, toying with his half eaten biscuit. “Lan gongzi, I don’t believe there’s much to be said on that topic.”

“On the contrary, I have plenty to tell you,” Lan Xichen insists. “I think it would please you to…”

“Not today,” Nie Huaisang cuts him. “I’m having the sort of day where nothing could please me, and quite frankly, that topic… it’s not something I want to think about at all. Can’t we chat about something less distressing?”

Lan Xichen frowns at that reaction. Nie Huaisang braces himself for his fiancé to insist, perhaps even for an argument to happen if Lan Xichen decides he’s tired of being nice without getting anything in return. Neither things happen.

“Of course I won’t force you to speak of this if you don’t want to,” Lan Xichen says with surprising gentleness. “I do believe we should discuss it while we have time, but if you’re unwell today, then the time isn’t right for it. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Not unless you can magically change my mood,” Nie Huaisang scoffs, uncertain how to react to kindness when he hasn’t prepared for it.

“I could try to do that,” Lan Xichen offers, startling him. “Or something to that effect. There are a few Lan songs that can calm an unquiet mind. I could play one for you, if you’d like.”

Nie Huaisang drops his biscuit on the table.

“I thought the Lan songs were just used for battle?”

Laughing softly, Lan Xichen shakes his head. “Those would be the one most people know about, but we have many other sorts. To calm the mind, to help the body heal, to improve the quality of meditation… we’re a musical sect, and we take that very seriously. Even now, some members of the sect still try to come up with new techniques.”

“I had no idea,” Nie Huaisang admits. “I didn’t really try to learn about Gusu Lan, aside from all your stupid rules.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not alone in that. Ask any cultivator what Gusu Lan does, they will tell you that we invent rules faster than the flowers bloom in spring, and that we’re deadly with a guqin. We’re more than that, though, just as Qinghe Nie is more than brute force and sabres.”

“Uh. Guess I’m learning a lot about your sect today,” Nie Huaisang muses. “Secrets to keep your robes clean, and healing songs… Lan gongzi, your people are more surprising than I’d have thought.”

"I'm glad if you feel that way," Lan Xichen replies, his smile warm and soft. "I hope you'll want to continue learning more about us. For now though, would you let me play for you?" 

Nie Huaisang shrugs, and nods. If this works, his mood will be improved. If it doesn't… Lan Xichen is a skilled musician, so he'll have that pleasure if nothing else. 

It takes a little more preparation than Nie Huaisang would have expected to hear a Lan healing song. He can’t help a slight grimace when Lan Xichen explains he’ll have to get into a meditative state, never an easy feat for him, but apparently the melody itself is meant to help with that. Nie Huaisang grumbles and mutters and struggles to find a comfortable position on his sitting mat, but once he’s somewhat settled, Lan Xichen starts playing on his xiao.

At first, Nie Huaisang is certain this won’t work. His brain is still jumping from one thought to the other, aching with the way he misses his friends, and how he can’t seem to enjoy being home even when he should enjoy it while it lasts because soon, in some months now, even if there’s no clear date yet…

But as the melody goes on, Nie Huaisang finds that it envelopes his thoughts and pacifies them. The fears and worries are still there, but their sharp edges which were hurting him are rounded off by the music, making them less distressing.

When the last note drops, Nie Huaisang takes a moment before opening his eyes, enjoying the peaceful feeling inside his heart. It had been a while since he felt this calm. In fact, he’s not sure he’s felt like that before, not since his mother's death.

“That’s a very efficient song,” he sighs when he finally opens his eyes, slow and deliberate. “Thank you, Lan gongzi.”

“It’s my pleasure. Did it help?”

Nie Huaisang nods. He feels oddly light, in a very pleasant way. “Lan gongzi, you’ll have to play it again for me next time we meet.”

Lan Xichen laughs softly, his eyes crinkling with joy. He really is handsome like this, and Nie Huaisang finds himself smiling at his fiancé. If Lan Xichen asked again to talk about their future marriage, Nie Huaisang would agree because for the very first time, the idea doesn’t fill him with dread. There are worse people to marry out there, and Nie Huaisang is starting to feel he might be as lucky as people have told him he was, all those years.

But Lan Xichen doesn’t bring up that subject again. Instead they end up chatting about Lan Wangji’s bunnies, and how much he dotes on them, which in turns makes them talk about the younger boy’s crush on Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang is just starting to share his cunning plan to bring both of them to Qinghe when there’s a knock on the door. Before Nie Huaisang can invite the person in, Nie Mingjue barges inside the room and unceremoniously comes to sit next to his brother.

“Very rude of you both to have tea and not invite me,” he comments, snatching a handful of biscuits and shoving them in his mouth.

“Gross!” Nie Huaisang gasps, wishing he had a fan to hit his brother with. He has to slap him with his hand instead, which is a lot less refined. “If you’re not invited, then why are you still here?”

“I can’t let my brat of a brother try to steal my friend,” Nie Mingjue retorts. “Besides, you always have the best biscuits when you’re having tea. How come I can never get them when I ask for them?”

“Because I hide them from you, having paid for them with my own money,” Nie Huaisang retorts, grabbing the plate and holding it out of reach when his brother tries to grab a few more. “Don’t! They’re not for you! Lan gongzi, help!”

Of course Nie Mingjue, being the tall, long limbed monster that he is, can almost grasp the plate even when his brother is trying his hardest to keep his precious biscuits out of reach. They are both stunned and nearly lose their balance when Lan Xichen snatches the plate away from Nie Huaisang’s hands, looking a little lost about what his next move should be.

“Run with them!” Nie Mingjue enthusiastically orders. “We can share them!”

Lan Xichen’s eyes jump between the two brothers a few times before he shakes his head.

“He said he paid for them,” he softly protests. “If you want some, ask him nicely.”

Nie Mingjue gasps at that betrayal while Nie Huaisang, after the first moment of shock, starts laughing so hard he can hardly breathe.

“Xichen, you turn against me like this?” Nie Mingjue complains. “Aren’t we friends?”

His tone is so falsely pathetic that Lan Xichen chuckles and grins.

“We’re friends, but he’s my fiancé. I’ve got to take his side when it's needed, don’t I?”

Nie Huaisang’s laughter dies in his throat, stunned for a moment by that simple declaration, the way Lan Xichen says it as if it’s the most evident thing ever. Something shifts inside his chest, something big, something so soft it is nearly agonising.

The moment passes quickly because Nie Mingjue, not one to accept betrayal so easily, turns against Lan Xichen and tries to steal the biscuits from him instead. This in turn forces Nie Huaisang to team up with his fiancé so they can protect the precious sweets from being eaten in an uncouth manner. All three of them laugh when, after some struggling and a movement too quick, the biscuits end up falling on the floor. Nie Huaisang pretends to be heartbroken until the other two both promise they’ll buy him new ones, at which point he just joins them again in laughing.

He’d never thought the three of them would ever have fun like this someday, but he’s glad to have been proven wrong.

[mother-snake]

who lives, who dies, who tells your story

(i fucking cried again. oops. god i need to stop making these angsty.) for full effect play the song This will end or Thus to always tyrants by the oh hellos for full effect... :,D the final installment of thursday and the gude to the other side.

start: thursday previous: a guide to the other side pt 10

taggs: @idkanameatall

warnings!: majour charachter death. mourning and mentions of murnder. cursing, extreme angst aswell...

good ending this time - the after math of janus loosing his other half. he gains more than he could have wished for-

Forgiveness? Can you imagine?

Janus stared blankly around his room. The walls were grey and reversed coloured sunflowers sat growing from the cracks lining the floor. those were just a few things the sides were barely getting used to. things…had not been the same since that day only a month ago now.

Only the dark sides had known Theodore… the others had only known him for a single day. Thomas hadn’t even met the other… and they hadn’t even brought up what had happened for Janus to completely shut off.

 Logan sat next to Janus, the other staring blankly at the wall of the room. Not paying any mind to the logical side… and Logan looked on with such pain. his husband was mourning. But why did it feel like Janus had gone with him in that moment. A husk of who he previously had been

He wondered if Janus would be smiling if Logan had been paying attention. That if Logan had noticed wrath only a couple seconds sooner… would Theodore still be alive? if he had been in Theodore’s place…would he smile knowing his brother was alive. “I love you…” Logan whispered as he rested his head on the other, who seemingly didn’t even notice. Logan felt his lip quiver at the lack of response… he knew that the other was mourning. But he wished that he didn’t shut himself down like this. It hurt to watch him deteriorate like this.

Three soft knocks alerted Logan to the fact someone was at the door. But before he could say anything. The door creaked open. A startled Patton stood at the door looking in with worry and confusion laced in his eyes.

“Logan… you’ll want to see this.” Patton said shakily, “you too Janus.” Janus stared at Patton blankly before nodding. Logan wondered if it was because he could tell Patton was retaining information from them.

“I um… just want to warn you. We have no idea how this happened…” he motioned for them to follow.

Logan kept an eye on Janus as they made their way down the stairs. But they both stopped mid-way down as they heard the voices. small, high pitched like giggles.

For the first time in a month Janus seemed to slightly snap out of his trance. “what?” Janus whispered, barely audible to the other. Logan had to pick up his pace as he watched the other speed up to catch up with Patton.

They arrived in the commons to see three small children. And three very distressed older sides. Virgil had hidden himself up on top of a bookshelf. roman and Remus were seemingly looking at the small children with absolute confusion and wariness.

“who… are they?” Logan asked. Patton only gestured for them to go forwards. Remus smiled as he watched Janus move forwards. Happy the other was feeling fractionally better, even if this was a minor distraction.

One of the children had ruffled hair, wild as can be. His orange rain jacket was tied to his waist revealing a blank white top. He looked around ten. the next looked only seven or eight. His hair was almost platinum white save for a small brown streak in his hair. Almost opposite to Remus’s. he wore a white skirt and light grey top.

The smallest startled Janus gravely. A six-year-old. His hair went down to his shoulders. A pink carnation hair pin keeping his har out of his face. he wore the same as orange. The almost burnt orange was replaced by a pastel pink.

Janus felt himself give out under his own mental weight. Tears pooling in his eyes as he saw the small child.

The eldest child looked at him in surprise. Before surging forwards and spewing questions. Asking if he was alright. Saying he would smack anything that had hurt him. the second was nervous but slowly crept forwards wrapping Janus in a small hug. the youngest was confused. He had been fine with the other two. Was he scary? he didn’t think he could have been. He had been concerned. He felt the wave of sadness, nay… depression roll of the other as soon as he had walked into the room.

He hopped of his place on the seat and made his way closer. “you… you look so much like him.”

The youngest snapped his head over to the side who stood next to the cardigan clad one who had called himself Patton. “who?” he asked curiously. “his brother…” he muttered back.

The feeling seemed to click in his mind. The one crying was mourning.

 It had taken ten minutes for Janus to calm down enough to finally come to grips that there were children in front of himself. “may I ask…your purposes?” Janus asked shakily, worried about what they’d say.

“I’m wrath, but you can just call me Orpheus!” orange cheered joyfully. “I’m…insanity, Samuel.” He said, looking at the other nervously. “sadness! nice to meet you! My name is atlas!” he said joyfully.

Janus smiled weakly at them all, “I’m deceit… you can call me Janus. Its nice to meet you all,” he smiled sadly, but at the same second… Logan caught a small glimpse of hope in the other’s eyes.

Forgiveness? Can you imagine?

The first time it had happened was on a Thursday afternoon when Janus had begun to get overwhelmed. Logan had been the first to spot the others sudden tension. Something said must have threw him off. He took Janus’s hand and hold it tightly. Getting a small squeeze in response.

Logan’s head snapped up as he saw roman, Remus and Patton getting louder over something that was said. and before he knew it a figure appeared in the corner of his eyes just as Virgil tumbled down a couple stairs.

“can you three shut up?” the side said, eyes blazing orange as he glared ‘maliciously’ (he was yet to get that down to an art).

“why is there a child in my house?” Thomas said almost immediately. “oh…” roman muttered, his face flushing red as he looked at the grumpy small child.

Logan let out a sigh as the child stepped over one of Virgil’s leg and walking over to Janus. Giving him a hug as best as he could. “Thomas, this is the new wrath,” Logan said slowly. “hi tommy,” the child muttered as he held the snake. “hello to you too…” Thomas said still completely in shock from the news.

“wait- what do you mean new wrath?” roman looked at Janus who had snapped out of his dazed state. He got a sharp nod from the other as he sunk down. “Janus…killed the old one.” “…what?” Thomas asked startled by what he had heard.

“in his defence,” Remus continued,” he did kill his brother.”

Thomas clearly confused by what he heard; the others told him what had happened. Start to finish. From when Patton first saw the staff to how the small sides appeared suddenly in the mindscape.

 Janus followed Ophie towards their destination. The three of them had apparently been doing something in the far side since they had woken up on Monday that week. It was now a Saturday. he had been mildly confused to say the least. “hurry! We’ll be late,” the angry side said as he dragged the deceitful one behind himself. Janus let out a small chuckle.

They began to wonder down corridors. Each one familiar to Janus. A small ball of panic welling inside himself. “come on!” Orpheus ran ahead and opened a familiar pink and yellow marbled door, the paint looked fresh. No longer chipped. The snake head handle a shiny gold. the once dead plants that sat outside the room were blooming with life. He smiled at the door. It looked brand new. It looked the way it did when he had first been formed. He knew it wasn’t the same room however. That was still a few turns away.

But when he walked inside. It was different. But it had made him loose his breath. the walls were wooden, a soft grey carpet underfoot. A bright fire lit in a chimney. the beams up on the celling had fairy lights strung in pink and yellow. He felt his mind be thrown back to the past as he looked around.

A familiar lady came to mind. She was tall and always walked elegantly. Dressed like a librarian and smelled of wood and old books. Black leathery wings sat on her back. Her black hair showing grey streaks.

A teenager in his mind sat by the fire, warming his hands around a cup of coco.

“how did you do this,” he asked. memory after memory flooding in on him.

“roman had the original blueprints from years ago. With the help of Remus and Virgil, we were able to make a semi replica,” Ophie said. insanity smiled weakly from his place up on a beam. White feathery wings protruding from his back.

“do you like it?” atlas asked. “oh… there are no words to tell you how much I want to hug you three forever and never let go,” he sobbed. the three children smiled at the other with wide toothy happiness.

 He got the three of them to sit down by the fire as he made some coco. Memorising her recipe had been simple. And he had never forgotten. he chuckled as he remembered Patton begging him near last Christmas for the recipe.

“mom! Logan’s here!” a voice yelled loudly. Janus seemed to freeze in his spot, what had just been said? Did they really? He placed a cup down gently on the counter. A small smile grazing his lips. if that’s how they saw him. Then he would try his best.

He picked up another cup from a coubard and poured some hot coco into it, knowing Logan would want some.

He picked up the tray of cups and made his way into the room. Insanity blushing madly into his hands as the other two giggled next to him. Logan looking at them fondly with a stunning smile on his face.

“where’s Remus?” he asked as Logan looked up to him. “cleaning up the last of the explanation with Patton,” he smiled as he took a cup from the tray.

Insanity looked between the two of them with a small smile. He knew that the three married people that had taken him under their wings, both literally and metaphorical, loved each other with a burning passion. One that couldn’t be denied by anyone or anything.

“so, is this where you grew up?” Logan asked as he looked around the room, “its beautiful. Stunning even,”

“yeah. I grew up with the dragon which raising me and…well. This was how her tower used to look,” Janus said, as if he were going down memory lane.

“hey you five guess what- holy fuck!” Remus said as he looked around the room, “it’s a fucking replica!” he yelled, mouth agape. “language!” Janus scolded playfully.

“you little shits actually did it…” he chuckled. “I thought you helped?” Logan said. “yeah, I showed pictures of the place from my younger more devious years,” he grinned, “but this is all them,” he spread his arms out and gestured everywhere.

“our sons are special? Aren’t they?” Janus said smirking as he took a sip from his cup. the three small sides looked at him with wide eyes. “our sons really are,” Remus grinned. “each one of them,” Logan added on.

Orpheus tried to speak. But his words were caught in his throat. atlas looked at them with stars in his eyes. insanity didn’t say anything before bursting int tears and running to Remus and hugging his legs tightly.

Janus could tell you lots of things at that moment. But the first thing that would always come to mind was that he did feel torn without his brother. But in that moment… for the first time in forever? He felt whole. the family he had forged laid in front of him. Love bursting out of the seams.

He didn’t know if he would trade it for anything.

If you see him in the street, walking by her Side,

Janus laid on the soft carpet grumpily. His children curled up on the sofa on top of Logan whilst Remus was cooking in the small kitchen.

They had practically moved into the tower after its creation. the other two hadn’t minded much. still seeing them on a daily basis. But for the first time in years they were having a Christmas in his home.

He rolled over onto his back and sighed. “I’m going to go into the imagination for a while,” Janus said as he stood up. “are you sure? In the middle of shedding?” Orpheus asked concerned. “yeah, I’m going to visit Theodore and your grandmother,” he said ruffling Orpheus’s hair.

 The walk had been daunting and gruelling in his mind. This wasn’t the first time he wouldn’t have Theodore there for Christmas. But he knew there would be no other times. when he had disappeared. Sure, he was gone for a while, but at any point he could have returned.

But he was dead now. There was no other time. No more banter I the morning nor was there going to be the other to wake up to. And that had hit him hard that morning when he had almost said his name. “good morning Theo- “ he had said as he woke up in his bed. Looking over to see an empty spot.

Janus shook his head, banishing the thought for the time being and making his way through the mirror. the land was thick with white snow. Un spoken laughter rung in the air. imaginary forts of snow and twine sat abandoned in the snow. he tracked his way forwards. The snow crunching under his feet, the vapour of his breaths becoming frozen with every exhaled breath.

Ten minuets later and there he was. Standing in front of a gravestone placed in front o snow buried ruins.

“of all things… I never thought he would die so young,” a silky voice spoke from behind him, “but I knew deep down he would die protecting you my small hatchling.”

He laid down the fresh carnation crown on top of the pristine grave. he took a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he turned around. “open your eyes, I won’t disappear my child,” she chuckled weakly.

He did as he was told. He became breathless as he looked onwards. Everything inside him Turing off.

“mom?” he said before running forwards and wrapping the woman with a tight embrace. “I’m here my child. I’m here…” she said reassuringly as the other held on tightly. “I thought you died?” “no… I had managed to escape. My how handsome you look!” she crooned.

He laughed at her antics. “you and I have a lot to discuss,” she said.

Janus turned to the grave and let out a sigh. He could have sworn he saw a figure sitting on top. A warm smile on their face, waving happily at him. another one stood behind, grinning, burning amber eyes staring at Janus with such pride. a figure held the oranges hand. White silvery hair tied up into a bun. Eye filled with joy.

He knew they were waiting for him. But he knew they would wait as long as he needed. They would be angry if he arrived so soon. he gave a wave back, letting a tear pour from his eye. he blinked. And the figures were gone.

 The two continued talking as they passed through the mirror, Janus telling his mother about his two husbands. Her saying something along the lines of ‘I knew you fell for him!’

They made their way down the halls, stories and laughter ringing in the air. “we best hurry, atlas gets nervous when I’m gone for too long,” “atlas? But that your shared name?” she said startled. “it used to be. But I’m thinking you’d like to meet your grandchildren,” he laughed, her eyes lighting up with sparks of her youth.

 Atlas and the dragon which had gotten on like a matchstick on fire. Insanity was marvelled by her wings, so had Logan. Virgil and Remus had almost broken-down crying upon seeing her alive and well. Patton and Logan had been introduced along with the ‘terrible trio’ as they had begun to call themselves.

He used to hate celebrating Christmas only three years ago… now here he was, sitting in the middle of a family gathering with the smell of hot chocolate and gingerbread hanging in the air.

A Christmas tree that reached the celling took its normal place in the room. three stockings hung on the fireplace, filled to the brim with small things yet to be opened. It was the morning after all. presents were the last thing to be done.

“merry Christmas Theodore,” he whispered under his breath as he looked around the room.

talking by her side, have pity

Forty-five? Janus thought… that’s how old he was today. A warm smile on his face. the feeling inside him had grown slowly over the years. But today, he knew it was time much to his dismay.

It was time to join the others. his door opened as Remus came in, his stubble making him laugh as Logan rested his head in the crook of his neck. “how are you today sunflower?” he asked silently. “its time to go,” he muttered.

He felt the other shaking in his embrace. Wet tears dripping onto his shoulder. “oh sweetheart,” Janus said as he wrapped his arms around the other, “it’s okay,” he smiled.

“its not, todays the last day I see you before I won’t get to again,” he sobbed.

They held each other for a while longer. Remus shaking in his arms. He had been with him since that day Virgil had left. A small part of him felt like he was betraying him. He was leaving him here. But… he wouldn’t be alone. He had Logan and the others.

Remus let out a shaky breath and held Janus’s hand tightly, “come on then sunflower, let’s go.”

 Thomas had been surprised none the less to see two of his sides appear so suddenly. especially when he saw tear tracks on Remus. “is everything okay? Did you get into a fight with one of the others?” he asked hastily. “no…” Remus said quietly, sending shivers up Thomas’s spine. he sounded so broken. “what’s wrong then?” he asked curiously. “I…came to say goodbye Thomas,” Janus said looking at the other, “my time here is up I’m afraid.”

Thomas looked at Remus who looked ready to burst into another round of tears and surged forwards. Wrapping his arms around his two sides.

“I can’t lose you,” Thomas whispered. “deaths a part of life Thomas, sometimes people leave sooner than you’d like to think,” Janus said, wiping a tear of his hosts cheek.

They talked for an hour or so, getting in their final goodbyes. Thomas let Janus film his goodbye to the sander’s fandom. Explaining they wouldn’t be seeing him anymore. He hoped they’d understand.

Then. He looked at Thomas one last time. Tears pouring down Thomas’s face as he watched his side sink out.

They went on to gather the side’s in the commons. “the last time we gathered like this pop was when Patton stole the last cookie,” atlas said fidgeting with his scarf, “this better be a good reason.”

“I do,” Janus said looking around the room, “my time… has come to an end. After today, I shall cease to exist,” he said.

The others looked at him before laughing. Janus looked at them with weary eyes and a sad smile. One by one. They realised this wasn’t a joke as Remus broke down into tears.

Logan stood up and threw himself on the snake. His breath hitching in his throat. the children, now teens, stared at their mother with nothing but grief.

No one spoke a word. “if this is…your final day. Then let’s do something that will make this day go out with a bang,” Samuel said, “how long do you have?” “at most eight hours,” Janus smiled as he held his husbands.

And that’s exactly what they did. They played games, watched a movie and went on a hike. Eating cake and junk food as they did so. they laughed and cried all day. Janus had never felt more love in his life than that day. and soon, the sun was down over the horizon, the moon peaking in the sky.

They made their way to one last destination. a pristine grave with a fresh pink carnation crown. And there standing and sitting in their places were his old family. One that had been waiting for him for years. “come on,” Theodore said holding out a hand, “lets go baby brother,” a grin growing on his face.

Janus felt tears fall down his face at his brother voice. “you’ve been brave enough, my snake,” wrath said holding out his hand. “you’ve made us so proud my child,” insanity spoke.

Janus turned around to look at the sides. They looked at him with sad smiles. Logan nodded to Janus. “go, we’ll be okay, you’ve been strong enough. Time for you to rest,” Logan said, trying to keep his smile on his face. “wait for us?” Remus said, not able to look at the other.

“I will,” Janus shuddered. he turned around to face the grave. Theodore stood up, letting his hands fall to his sides.

With the picture of his family safe and sound imprinted in his memory, he held out his hand. Theodore taking his.

The sides all went eyes wide as they saw the feint outline of the old side. A small smile on their faces as they realised, he would be in perfect hands.

A yellow light emanated from Janus, small pieces floating into the darkening sky. Slowly a mix of colours joined in.

“where do you think hes going?” atlas asked, tears pouring from his eyes.

They are going through the unimaginable

As the light reached the sky, small flecks of pink, orange and white joined the yellow as it floated away in the breeze.

“he’s going home,” Logan said.

[binderclipdocs]

Review of Understanding Lennon/McCartney

I’m sharing this terrific post on ULM from Facebook user Mark Humphreys

(pictures and links added by me)

63 years ago today - right about now (afternoon in Her Majesty's realm), a mutual friend introduced Paul McCartney to John Lennon at a Quarrymen gig at a church fete in Liverpool. Like. Wow.

I can't remember ever posting the same thing twice on Facebook.

I'm doing it here because I've now finished watching the 10 hour, 3 minute, 37 second entirety of the weird, poetic, dazzling, spellbinding and emotionally draining "Understanding Lennon/McCartney" documentary series on YouTube - and I can't think of a more appropriate way to celebrate the moment the most influential songwriting team in the history of popular music first met than to STRONGLY recommend it...

...with the qualification, once again, that if you weren't alive when the Beatles were active (or perhaps just afterward) - or if you've never really followed or been interested in their story, the series is likely not for you.

But if, like me, the influence of Lennon and McCartney's absolutely magical, electric connection and the strange, sometimes vitriolic public post-Beatles feud portrayed in the press (and often played up by both men) have been part of your own internal history, "Understanding Lennon/McCartney" will captivate and move you beyond anything you could possibly expect.

This is a love story. Beyond friendship - beyond even romantic love (barely) - beyond the comprehension of both men, who clearly struggled to live with its primal force within them, and which McCartney clearly struggles with right now, and will until the day he dies.

But - and this is crucial - you have to commit to watch the entire thing to get the full impact. It's frustrating as hell to say this, but I can't tell you why - you just do.

It takes probably the first hour before the pace and the groove of the thing really catches the psyche. I'll be honest - I almost gave up on it within the first 30 minutes - it was like biting into an apple (pun intended) and tasting every rich, delightful, sweet, salty, bitter, tart flavor I'd ever experienced all at once.

In other words - it's freaky.

Originally posted on YouTube a few years ago by someone using the handle "breathless345," it was quickly removed due to copyright issues. Somehow these issues were resolved (I have no idea how, because Beatles music and lots of other artists' music is constant) and the series was re-posted last year. I found out about it last month when a friend pointed me to it.

The fact that I can't find anything about "breathless345" or anything else about the "who" in the "who made this?" question makes the whole thing even freakier.

It's a ten-hour fever dream in five volumes (there are six videos - for some reason Volume 5 is broken into two parts).

The soundtrack is often bathed in a heavy, almost mind-numbing reverb that contributes to the feeling of being inside a haunted memory - perhaps a longer version of seeing one's life pass before one's eyes before taking that last breath.

There is no narration. There are many written quotes (one must be willing to read a lot of on-screen text). And there are many, many - A LOT OF - interviews, most of which I'd never seen or heard, with both men over the years, as well as George Harrison and Richard Starkey, all detailing, in very clear relief, the fact that John and Paul NEVER (I repeat, NEVER, through ANYTHING) stopped being friends. They never lost communication with each other. They were like twins - completely attached to, and reliant upon, each other, a fact that quite demonstrably set Lennon into deep depressive fits and McCartney into becoming more driven to find his own independent success.

The one qualm - if I can call it that - with the series is that Yoko Ono once again gets painted too much as a calculating villain, which (who knows?) she may have been - but she also may not have been - and a fuller examination of Ono's quotes and interviews would have been helpful to fill out Lennon's behavior in the final decade of his life.

As a whole, the time passes like a hot knife through butter when viewing the series - I promise, you will not notice how much time you've spent watching it until you stop. It's simply mesmerizing. But you've got to commit when you start.

That's because the pacing, at first, seems incredibly haphazard and even lazy - the installments are set in a strict timeline, yet each episode drifts back and forth in time. At first, this was incredibly frustrating to me...

...until I got to Volume 3 - "The Seventies," which examines the decade after the Beatles split, and McCartney's rapid, determined rocket ship to a second wave of superstardom with a solo career while Lennon took a decidedly slow, decade-long slide into depression and even mild paranoia despite his continued output of recorded works. At the conclusion of Volume 3, any remaining sense of confusion or haze lifted, and the presentation became clear to me as a beautiful pastiche of facts cobbled into a permanent memory of something beyond description - a physical manifestation of what it feels like to live with a Great Love that can never be fully explained because it's impossible to fully consummate.

The ten-minute (!!) trailer is posted here. It'll give you a feel for what it's like to watch the whole thing. But you know what? Don't watch the trailer. Just dig in. All you need is love - and 10 hours you'll be glad you set aside.