#piii wip

[cepheusgalaxy]

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

💼 - What do they do for a living?

For whoever (I don’t know your ocs yet, I’m sorry)

(I'm gonna do it for Ezra)

🍕 - What is their favorite food? - It's probably some kind of nut, although I'm not sure which

💼 - What do they do for a living? - He is a fraalence necromancer! :)

[artdecosupernova-writing]

OC Kiss Week Day 1: Almost

WIP: Partners Pairing: Ben x Reagan Timeline: non-canon, but 1969 (the time of the majority of PIII) CW: none Rating: T Words: 1,776 (🤙🏽)

***

"Alright, Reagan, let's try it once more from the top of the scene..."

Ben watched Reagan push himself off of the couch in the rehearsal room, pressing his thumbs into his eyebrows with a weary sigh. His scene partner, however—gorgeous Hollywood "It girl" and rising star Favra Violetta—glided off the couch to eagerly await him on the blocking tape beside the false door standing in for the real, eventual movie set.

As he crossed to her, Reagan threw a glance at his director to verify if that's what he meant by "from the top" before swiping his palms together. "You don't think I've got this acting thing figured out by now, Jimothy?"

"Shut up," grumbled Academy Award-winning director James Fernando as he took exactly two long steps to position himself at a prime angle to best view the scene. "Okay, you're back in the house, you're casting aside the horrible day, you're in your coat and soaking wet from the rain." James gestured to Favra. "Your beautiful wife has music on, and you smell dinner in the kitchen, and the only thing you can think to do despite all the bleakness and the misery is dance with this amazing woman. It's not difficult."

Ben crossed his arms in the spot where James once stood, an unregistered smirk on his face at the promise of watching Reagan have to dance again. "I'm so sorry this is the direction your career decided to take you."

Reagan shot him a third of a glare that melted into a boyish grin the moment his fingers wrapped around the doorknob.

"Right," James said, clapping his hands. "Action!"

A record started from the other side of the room, a kicky tune that likely would be replaced for filming. Reagan shut the door behind him, his shoulders heavy, eyes cast to the floor, and in the way he carried himself, he looked soaked to the bone from a nonexistent downpour. He stepped forward but stopped, recognizing the music, and his vacant gaze fell on Favra's Sadie bustling about the simulated living room.

She turned and smiled at him, smoothing down the waistband of her trousers. "Hey there, Mitchie."

What Reagan was supposed to do, here, was wait a beat, and then sweep Favra into a mid-tempo dance that carried them joyfully around the living room. Instead, he frowned and bit his lip.

James looked at Ben over his shoulder with a huff of desperation.

Ben shrugged. "He's got the yips."

"And how in the hell do I fix that?"

Ben swiped a thumb across his nose, taking in Favra's olive skin and endless brown eyes. He shook his head. "He lacks chemistry with Favra. It's kinda weird for him not to click instantly with...well, anyone, and it's probably nothing against you, Favra...but until he's able to find that spark there, I don't really see this working out the way you want it to."

"Yeah," James sighed. "Wonderful."

Favra dropped character and pulled her dark hair over one shoulder, motioning toward Ben. "Why doesn't he try the scene with Mr. Murray? Maybe going through the motions with someone he's comfortable with will help loosen him up?"

"I'm also standing right here in case one or all of you decide to consult me on the matter," Reagan said.

James nodded and waved impatiently. "Sure, sure, if Reagan's good with it, we'll do it that way. I would like to be confident in this scene sometime before I fall down dead of old age." He punctuated his sentence with a dramatic flop of the hand and a raspberry sound effect.

Favra graciously allowed Ben to take her place, and he did, with much apprehension. He'd been on the big screen a few times—once in a major way with Reagan—but he'd still never gotten used to the practice and found himself a bit nervous even though it was only rehearsal.

Since he was a temporary substitute, he went the comedic route with his miming, pretending to use a vacuum that started to suck up the toe of one of his socks as Reagan's Mitchie walked into the house.

"Good, good!" James said. "Music cue's late, but roll with it!"

Ben glanced up as the music hastily kicked on, and he smiled at Reagan much like he'd watched Favra do several times leading up to this. "Hey there, Mitchie."

Reagan stood where Ben imagined there'd be a step leading down into a sunken living room. He didn't know how long had passed since Reagan shut the door, but it was long enough to affect a wistful, bittersweet stare right into Ben's face.

He dragged himself, "wet" and "tired," into the living room and started to bounce a bit to the beat of the music. He acted out setting the vacuum cleaner aside and took Ben's hands.

"What're you doin'?" Ben asked, still on script and pulling his smile as far as it could go. He stopped needing to try when Reagan began to guide him in earnest, swinging his hips into a gradually more enthusiastic partnered Watusi.

Ben met him with every move, spinning with him, letting the music and the laughter sweep him into another mindset entirely. He remembered almost too late that the script then called for Sadie to break away and for Mitchie to chase her around the living room until he caught up to her by the couch and they shared a passionate kiss.

He would've brought the rehearsal to an end had he not clocked the mischievous sparkle in Reagan's eye as they danced fairly close to one another.

"Sadie, go!" James barked cheerfully.

Without another thought, Ben took off, a strange giggle bubbling out of him, fueled in part by adrenaline and mostly by the years that sloughed off of him just by being silly with Reagan. It brought him back to their school dances, their respective weddings, the time on the secluded beach before Reagan moved back to Ireland...

Ben screeched to a sudden halt in front of the couch and whipped around to Reagan, his heart slamming into his chest and a bolt of thrilled fear shooting through every extremity of his body as Reagan bore down on him like a beast of prey.

Like a movie reel flashing before his eyes, he recalled Reagan's twenty-first birthday, their rough and wasted first kiss against the brick wall in the alleyway he still wasn't sure some twenty-seven years later that he didn't yearn to remember in full...the drunken, highly charged striptease Reagan gave as a parting gift when they went to the beach alone...every time they'd give each other a quick kiss because they just loved one another that much and didn't care who knew it—

Reagan grabbed Ben around the waist, fervently cupped his face, and kissed him.

Ben did not expect that.

For comedic purposes? Sure. But to put his heart into it, his soul into it, to pull Ben closer and dig his fingers into his hair, to zap his knees of strength, to splay his other hand against the small of Ben's back? To take a man in his forties still recovering from a mental breakdown nearly a decade ago, a man who still couldn't fully admit to himself that his mind made up the rest of what happened on that beach, and whittle him down to a trembling mess sinking into his arms as the kiss became more and more meaningful?

When Reagan pulled away, Ben didn't even notice at first. Ben pried his eyes open and he was slammed with Reagan's beauty, his incredible smile, his blown pupils, and the sneaky dart of his tongue across his own bottom lip.

Why was Ben not able to do this all the time? Why was he wherever he was right now, whatever they were doing, whatever was going on, and not enjoying this every minute of every day? Why was he so pressured, so stupid, so restrained, so sad, why wasn't he running away to live with Reagan in blissful devotion and adoration for the rest of their lives...?

...Faye.

"Son of a fuckin' dumbass," he breathed sharply, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

"Right, excellent!" James clapped once again, laughing boisterously and scaring the daylights out of Ben. "That's great! Favra, whenever you're ready, dear. We'll run through it one more time to make sure we're in a good place."

Ben's eyes had gone wide as soon as his wife's name entered his mind. He swallowed slowly, making the mistake of dropping his face toward the ground. Reagan hadn't let go of him yet, and Ben felt an almost imperceptible squeeze around his midsection, an apology, a clutch of barely concealed terror. Reagan pressed his lips to the side of Ben's head, and then it was over.

Favra smiled at Ben as the actors reset the scene. Ben finally looked back to Reagan, spotting the regret veiling his face prior to getting into character again.

Standing to the side to watch the scene again, Ben could see the added frustration, the added fire in Reagan's performance that had definitely not been there mere moments ago. Reagan chased Favra around the couch, caught up with her, pulled her into a kiss that made Ben's lungs feel as if they were being squeezed.

Ben's forehead creased. James called it a night on that day's rehearsals.

Reagan drove Ben home from the studio in silence. Sometimes, most of the time, their silences meant nothing. They could endure an entire car ride without a word and be quite comfortable. But this time was different, and it made Ben's entire head hot. Even the crisp air exposed to them via the Capri convertible did not help.

Halfway to Ben's house, Reagan switched on the radio. Serendipity or a happy coincidence, he'd tuned into the last seconds of one of their songs from their Gilmore and Murray days.

Ben carefully looked over to Reagan, who broke into a warm smile and caught his eye while maintaining focus on the road.

"'Sendin' me into a tailspin...'" Reagan sang along, his voice soft and pillowy against the chaos of the L.A. streets. "'No matter what kinda mood I'm in...'"

"Forgetting everything I know,'" Ben joined in, "'I'd wanna see you again before I go...'"

Reagan led them into the crescendo, "'But I'm not goin' yet, I'd be a fool to put down a losin' bet...'"

Ben threw his arms up into the air. "'So we're on! Our! Way!'"

Reagan laid down some jazzy vocal runs behind Ben's sustained final note, and things went almost back to normal...

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

Word Prompt #13

Word: Jelly (suggested by @fictional-ghost!) WIP: Partners III CW: Nothing at all. Well...unless someone needs me to tag food or condiments. Word Count: 1,232 Additional Notes: takes place in 1968 or 1969. PIII is my favorite of the main trilogy. Uh...I just love the person Reagan has become. his character arc up to the third installment is just *chef kiss* and this should shed a bit of light on why PIII Reagan is superior to PI and PII Reagan lol

***

Brady turned the mouth of the glass jar toward his face and attempted to scrape the remnants of its contents onto his knife. “Hey, Maura, did you happen to make some more jelly?”

Maura craned her neck from the kitchen island to search as best she could over the top of the newspaper her husband had been lost inside at the table, sweeping her newly-shortened hair out of her eyes in order to see better. “Erm...I did. Your sister’s got it.”

Across the table Charlotte froze in the midst of slathering the last of the sweet strawberry spread onto her toast and locked eyes with Brady. “We have jam.”

“That’s great.” Brady dropped his hands onto his lap and his shoulders slumped with drama unmatched by his Academy Award-nominated father sitting beside him. “I truly appreciate that, but if I wanted jam I would’ve asked for jam.”

“What’s wrong with jam?”

“What isn’t wrong with jam? Want a list?”

“Actually, yeah, if you’re gonna be weird about this.”

Brady started ticking off on his fingers. “The consistency is terrible. There is far too much fruit pulp in jam as opposed to jelly. The flavor is too concentrated and sometimes isn’t even sweet enough. Need I go on?”

Reagan, previously thought to have been unaffected by the conversation, lowered the top half of the newspaper and turned wary eyes onto his son from over the rim of his reading glasses.

“I’m sure you can go without jelly for one morning,” Charlotte retorted. “We’ve got butter, and Maura’s marmalade, and there are preserves in the cupboard from my dorm mother. There’s honey and cinnamon and need I go on?”

“I don’t mind if you want to use my marmalade, darling,” Maura piped up, holding up the orange jar.

Brady shook his head. “Thanks, Maura, but it’s on principle now. I had my heart set on jelly and I can’t have jelly.”

Charlotte frowned. “Who raised you? Not him,” she said, pointing to Reagan, who was fully invested by now, “because he did not raise his kids to be spoiled brats crying over a condiment.”

“Strictly speaking, muirnín,” Reagan said to her, removing his glasses and folding the paper into a square on the table top, “I didn’t raise him at all. Three years ago he rose from the shores of Long Beach fully formed. His memories were implanted by the government.”

Brady snickered. “Explains a lot, doesn’t it?”

“The way you’re caterwauling about jelly, it sure as shit does. Eat the damn marmalade.” Reagan got up from the table and joined Maura, depositing his empty plate into the sink and planting a firm kiss on her cheek. “Don’t break your back for the boy; I’ll run to the store with Ben to shut him up.”

“Take a pen,” Maura muttered around a mouthful of mushroom from her plate of full breakfast. She swallowed before speaking further. “You remember what happened last time you were mobbed and didn’t have a pen.”

“Yep. I keep one in the car just in case.” Reagan snatched a pudding from the plate, earning a swat on the arm. “Ah-ah, call this payback for the Nine Years’ War.”

Maura threw a bewildered expression at his back as he exited the kitchen. “What—black pudding?”

Later, Reagan stopped the Capri in front of Ben’s place, paused when Ben propped the door open and made direct fatigued eye contact with him down the driveway. Before Reagan could call out to ask if things were okay, Noah exploded from the house via the open door, caught in a chase for his life by two of his five sisters. They cleared the lawn in seconds, tearing around the corner and disappearing behind the house, and Noah’s screams, harmonizing with Regina and Sarah hurling aggravated insults at him, could be heard from every angle of the neighborhood.

Ben let out a visible sigh and dragged himself to the car.

“What’d he do now,” Reagan asked.

“I don’t even know.” Ben climbed inside without opening the door. “Probably took the heads off their dolls again. What the hell is this about jelly?”

“Brady’s going through a phase,” Reagan said, pulling onto the road. “I’d swear on your mother’s twenty-year-old black and white television set that he’s picking up anxieties from you.”

“Leave my mother out of this, asshole.”

“Mm-hm, and have you called her at all this week?”

Ben scowled. “Have you called yours?”

“We write each other regularly. Last time I was in Ireland, I even visited her in person.”

“Big man,” Ben said facetiously. “I try to see Ma when I’m home.”

Reagan patted Ben’s knee to comfort him as his mother was a sensitive topic given her recent health scares. “We’re buying ten jars of strawberry jelly today, and I’ll let you pick out a candy bar if you’re a good boy.”

Ben’s returned the shitty grin Reagan gave him. “Even one with peanuts?”

“Yes,” Reagan laughed, knowing full well that it was rare for Ben to be able to enjoy peanuts due to Noah being highly allergic. “As long as you don’t breathe on your son at any point today, sure, go crazy.”

They let the wind carry their thoughts out of the convertible for a few minutes, and Ben observed other LA residents on the street, going about their daily lives. “Talkin’ about peanuts and going on an errand to get jelly is making me very nostalgic.”

“The first snack we ever ate together.”

“Right...you’re right! That was the first one! Just about a minute after I asked you if you lived on the moon ‘cause I couldn’t figure out your accent.” Ben also laughed, throwing his head back and clutching his stomach. “I was so excited about that sandwich.”

Reagan glanced over at Ben and noted the mirth in his face upon revisiting that time in their lives. “Well, you were five.”

“That’s no excuse; five-year-old Ben was a weirdo.”

“And nine-year-old Reagan was absolutely in love with him,” Reagan reminded him. “I wouldn’t let Benjy Mertz out of my sight for a second.”

“And how’s that any different from now, man?”

Reagan’s face split into a sly, knowing smile, yet he refused to comment further.

Once in the store, they somehow managed to grab ten jars of cheap strawberry jelly without being recognized except for the cashier who kept looking from them to the jars in pure confusion. 

Ben joined Reagan at Reagan’s house, an observant party to the bestowing of jelly jars onto Brady’s lap as the boy sat on the sofa in the living room.

“What the hell, Dad,” Brady groaned. “This is overkill.”

“Oh?” Reagan gestured to Ben. “You want I should set the professional dad on you?”

Ben hunkered down with his hands on his knees and looked Brady in the eye. “I cannot eat peanut butter anymore and you are by all rights a grown man so don’t think I won’t deck you for that jelly.”

Brady thinned his eyes. “Am I...supposed to know what that means?”

“It means eat the damn jelly,” Reagan demanded, pulling Ben away from the living room by the back of his collar. “Eat it! Now!”

“Oh my god,” Brady murmured, swiping a hand down his own face. He hesitated, then gathered the jars into his arms with the intent to transport them into the kitchen. “You guys are insane.”

[cepheusgalaxy]

The OC Masterpost (2.0)

A while ago, someone asked who were my ocs, so I made a big post introducing them. Since then, the post became outdated so i decided to make a new one. They are separated by wip.

main wips

1. Ein

2. Meine

3. Totsuka e Jandir (updated with Jandir's new name!)

secondary wips

4. Trisaster

5. Snow White

6. Little Red Riding Hood Cyberpunk

7. The War Of The Human Throne (now with picrews!)

8. Unchosen One

9. Across Time and Odds

10. 9 Gates of Hell

11. The Witch's Paladin

12. Rumplestiltskin's Child

coming out eventually

13. Clou & Venera

14. Elysium

15. Gate

16. Rosered

wipless ocs (they need a whole other post)

Petrichor - (he/him/it) Witch guy in witch uni. He is a stoic and playful dumbass who thinks he's funny (x <- link to his design sheet)

Jake Valentine - (he/him) You will never hear about him from me but here he is

Gesse Valerie - (they/them) Jake's fuckbuddy

Michael Mia - (he/they/any) Ask me about him ask me about him

Yohann - (he/him) He's just a little guy, really

links:

OC Gallery [to be made] - Old OC Masterpost - WIP Intro [to be made] - My Silly Selfsonas Intro [to be made] - OC Trivia Bingo (original ask game) [to be made]

Feel free to ask me about any of them! ^^ I love talking about my ocs, and I also have a bunch of ask games saved you can pick an ask from.

[cepheusgalaxy]

trisaster [placeholder name]

Quin

[image description: a pencil doodle of a boy with his feet above the ground by magic. his arms are open and his knees are bent towards him, and he has a channel haircut which's left half is black and right half is bright orange. he is wearing a loose shirt with an open colllar tucked inside large trousers, and wearing on one leg, a fishnet sock, and on the other, what seems to be a metal bracelet. it is written "boy" below his arm. /end id]

Basic info: Quin (fluid pronouns)

Background: A young magician student.

Role: Protagonist

Main traits: Stoic, awkward, creative, sensitive

*Notes: I know exactly what she is like. She also sucks at telling people her pronouns. Not a very good role model. Blood manipulation.

Ezra

Basic info: Ezra (he/him)

Background: Rogue necromancer.

Role: Protagonist

Main traits: Generous, strategic, ambitious

*Notes: He's got that half elf rizz. I'm lying he didn't get the rizz genes. He's black too just so you can picture him.

Haiden

Basic info: Aiden (they/he)

Background: Closeted nonbinary angel.

Role: Protagonist

Main traits: Caring, shy, romantic, selfless

*Notes: He'll lose his wings at some point, because I said so. Did you know he has an ex-boyfriend? ^^ They get along well. He is bisexual too, for that extra "you have to choose one" crisis juice.

Devoile

Basic info: Voile (fluid pronouns)

Background: Mad scientist + teacher at a magician academy.

Role: Minor antagonist

Main traits: Petty, ruthless, creative, cold

*Notes: In previous concepts they were a major antagonist. Did you know she is a better genderfluid role model than Quin. She's also awful she eats little children/jk.

[cepheusgalaxy]

big holes/problems i'm noticing in my wips now im making another oc intro post for all of them:

totsuka e megan doesn't have an overall mood or aesthetic and that's actually messing my head up

project III has two ways it could go on in and I'm not sure which one i want for it

[cepheusgalaxy]

hold on a little bit i had an idea:

minute 7:29 -- ok, so "theres this bit of knowledge that is the sameness and every new thing revolves around this unknown" THIS is a great Vibe for the Project 3 wip im saving it noting down here chewing on this

elaboration: we know everybody using magic will have some sort of telekinesys but we don't know we have no idea of how that telekinesys will work.

Also -> if you're having trouble with making your magic system for your wip i greatly recommend this one video it's SUPER helpful

[artdecosupernova-writing]

OC Kiss Week Day 4: Lost

WIP: Partners Pairing: Ben x Reagan Timeline: sometime between PII and PIII (so like 1960-1961ish), may or may not be canon CW: suicide attempt mention, drug use mention Rating: T Words: 772

***

Reagan wouldn't let Ben out of his sight. He'd convinced Faye to let Ben stay at his house for a few nights coming out of the hospital so he'd have a chance to pull himself together before seeing Abby again.

Very little sleep for both men. Ben would hide away in the guest bedroom, dozing but not sleeping within the plush blankets and somewhat self-conscious that Reagan took to keeping a vigilant eye on the sofa across the room the whole time.

"You don't need to do this," Ben grumbled beneath the mountain of bed covers, riding out the nausea from his medication. "I'm not gonna slit my wrists the second you leave the room."

Reagan rested his head back against the top of the sofa, his arms folded tightly. Beads of sweat had started to form on his forehead, but he ignored them in favor of controlling his urge to fidget. His heart felt like a jackhammer against his sternum, and he was certain even Ben could hear it.

"We're still workin' out a treatment plan for you, kid," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. "I feel better knowing you're okay until then."

Ben grunted, pushing himself to sit up and swiping his hands over his face. "It's really not that bad—"

"You tryin' to tell me that if that heart attack didn't get to you first," Reagan's eyes were on Ben, now, sharp and serious, "you wouldn't have blown your own goddamn brains out and you would've come home from New York with just a sigh and a shrug? And you would've been fine the rest of the time I'd've been in Ireland?"

He caught the shock and mild disturbance on Ben's face and felt a twinge of vindication. Ben frowned, his jaw clenched.

"You got a lot of fuckin' nerve," Reagan growled, leaning forward and pressing his hands together. His words left him without much thought. "I can't believe you'd put your family through all of that—me through all of that."

"I'm so sorry I even considered inconveniencing you...!"

"You spoiled gobshite," Reagan spat through gritted teeth, jabbing a finger at Ben and getting to his feet. Every muscle weighed him down, and he nearly didn't make it all the way upward. "I told you it wouldn't have been forever. I told you I would've been back eventually. Ben, if you can't stomach the idea of navigating this world beyond me without thinking the only way to solve the problem is to put a bullet in your head—!"

"And what about you, Reagan?" Ben barked, his eyes flashing. "How was your way of coping any better than mine? How is succumbing to the lifestyle you fought so fucking hard to keep me from working out for you right about now?"

A pit yawned in Reagan's stomach, and it, to his surprise, did not originate around the muddled memories he had of his cocaine abuse. He swallowed thickly, pushing through the nausea and the guilt forming a lump in his throat coming from a dark place in his college years, terrified for a moment that Ben had found out...

"I've done everything I can for you," Reagan said, unexpectedly quiet. "I'll continue to do everything I can for you. I've made mistakes. I've let my weaknesses take control of me. I'm not proud, and yeah, I'm damn sorry I couldn't take care of myself the same way I've always taken care of you."

"Reagan..."

"This is probably gonna take the movement of the mountains to get through." Reagan hesitated before making the executive decision to climb into bed beside Ben. "We're gonna be okay. I know it."

He let out a slow breath of relief when Ben allowed him to curl himself around him, pressing a firm kiss to his temple. Ben deflated, evoking their shared childhood, evoking the time when pneumonia nearly put him into the ground and Reagan wouldn't leave his side even against professional guidance. Much like now.

Ben wrapped an arm around Reagan's waist and Reagan began to pass a shaky hand over his forehead in slow, warm strokes. For a moment they were newly teenagers again, unsure of their fates and futures, unsure if they should stay apart for their own health, secretly praying that they wouldn't. Reagan remembered with stunning clarity the feeling of hopelessness, the very real feeling that he'd never see Ben again for the rest of his life.

His eyes stung for the second time in a few weeks. He pressed that down as far as it would go.

For the first time in months, Ben and Reagan truly slept.

[cepheusgalaxy]

Meet the wip: Trisaster

[PT: Meet the wip: Trisaster /end PT.]

Sinopsis:

A mage aprentice, a necromancer and an angel-person have to travel together and stop an evil reign from conquering the world.

Extra info:

Tags: #trisaster wip

Genre: High fantasy, adventure

Moodboard:

none yet

About the setting: Pretty standard high fantasy land, but it also has really cool worldbuilding! The premise of the world is that they are many millenia further than a regular medieval fantasy setting but it still mostly looks like one and most of their tech is magic based and it has the same vibes of a medieval fantasy story. For no specific reason. It also has many different races besides humans.

Notes section:

this is a very messy wip. It’s got a lot of information but it’s been through a lot of stages and none of them are very distinct from one another. The folder is a mess and a pain in the ass to navigate in, and it honestly started as just a dump for all my ideas I couldn’t fit in another wip, but I still think it has its own identity. It’ll be a great story once I figure it out lmfao

hahaha you totally haven’t heard this plot from me before/irony

Previously used tags: #piii wip

Cast: Quinn [protagonist], Aiden, Ezra [supporting characters], Devoile/Voile [minor antagonist]

Back to WIP Masterpost | OC Masterpost | Writing Masterlist | #trisaster wip tag | Meet the ocs of this wip!

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Word Prompt

Word: Jelly WIP: Partners Timeline: 1968 or 1969, so pre-PIII CW: none Word Count: 1,231 Additional Notes: PIII is my favorite of the main trilogy. Uh…I just love the person Reagan has become. his character arc up to the third installment is just *chef kiss* and this should shed a bit of light on part of why PIII Reagan is superior to PI and PII Reagan lol (him being nearly fifty in PIII has nothing to do with it 👀)

***

Brady turned the mouth of the glass jar toward his face and attempted to scrape the remnants of its contents onto his knife. "Hey, Maura, did you happen to make some more jelly?"

Maura craned her neck from the kitchen island to search as best she could over the top of the newspaper her husband had been lost inside at the table, sweeping her newly-cropped hair out of her eyes to see better. "Erm…I did. Your sister's got it."

Across the table, Charlotte froze in the midst of slathering the last of the sweet strawberry spread onto her toast and locked eyes with Brady. "We have jam."

"That's great." Brady dropped his hands onto his lap and his shoulders slumped with drama unmatched by his Academy Award-nominated father sitting beside him. "I truly appreciate that, but if I wanted jam I would've asked for jam."

"What's wrong with jam?"

"What isn't wrong with jam? Want a list?"

"Actually, yeah, if you're gonna be weird about this."

Brady started ticking off on his fingers. "The consistency is terrible. There is far too much fruit pulp in jam as opposed to jelly. The flavor is too concentrated and sometimes isn't even sweet enough. Need I go on?"

Reagan, previously thought to have been unaffected by the conversation, lowered the top half of the newspaper and turned wary eyes onto his son from over the rim of his reading glasses.

"I'm sure you can go without jelly for one morning," Charlotte retorted. "We've got butter, and Maura's marmalade, and there are preserves in the cupboard from my dorm mother. There's honey and cinnamon and need I go on?"

"I don't mind if you want to use my marmalade, darling," Maura piped up, holding up the orange jar.

Brady shook his head. "Thanks, Maura, but it's on principle now. I had my heart set on jelly and I can't have jelly."

Charlotte frowned. "Who raised you? Not him," she said, pointing to Reagan, who was fully invested by now, "because he did not raise his kids to be spoiled brats crying over a condiment."

"Strictly speaking, muirnín," Reagan said to her, removing his glasses and folding the paper into a square on the tabletop, "I didn't raise him at all. Three years ago he rose from the shores of Long Beach fully formed. His memories were implanted by the government."

Brady snickered. "Explains a lot, doesn't it?"

"The way you're caterwauling about jelly, it sure as shit does. Eat the damn marmalade." Reagan got up from the table and joined Maura, depositing his empty plate into the sink and planting a firm kiss on her cheek. "Don't break your back for the boy; I'll run to the store with Ben to shut him up."

"Take a pen," Maura muttered around a mouthful of mushroom from her plate of full breakfast. She swallowed before speaking further. "You remember what happened last time you were mobbed and didn't have a pen."

"Yep. I keep one in the car just in case." Reagan snatched a pudding from the plate, earning a swat on the arm. "Ah-ah, call this payback for the Nine Years' War."

Maura threw a bewildered expression at his back as he exited the kitchen. "What—black pudding?"

Later, Reagan stopped the Capri in front of Ben's place, paused when Ben propped the door open and made direct fatigued eye contact with him down the driveway. Before Reagan could call out to ask if things were okay, Noah exploded from the house via the open door, caught in a chase for his life by two of his five sisters. They cleared the lawn in seconds, tearing around the corner and disappearing behind the house, and Noah's screams, harmonizing with Regina and Sarah hurling aggravated insults at him, could be heard from every angle of the neighborhood.

Ben let out a visible sigh and dragged himself to the car.

"What'd he do now?" Reagan asked.

"I don't even know." Ben climbed inside without opening the door. "Probably took the heads off their dolls again. What the hell is this about jelly?"

"Brady's going through a phase," Reagan said, pulling onto the road. "I'd swear on your mother's twenty-year-old black and white television set that he's picking up anxieties from you."

"Leave my mother out of this, asshole."

"Mm-hm, and have you called her at all this week?"

Ben scowled. "Have you called yours?"

"We write each other regularly. Last time I was in Ireland, I even visited her in person."

"Big man," Ben said facetiously. "I try to see Ma when I'm home."

Reagan patted Ben's knee to comfort him as his mother was a sensitive topic given her multiple recent health scares. "We're buying ten jars of strawberry jelly today, and I'll let you pick out a candy bar if you're a good boy."

Ben returned the shitty grin Reagan gave him. "Even one with peanuts?"

"Yes," Reagan laughed, knowing full well that it was rare for Ben to be able to enjoy peanuts due to Noah being highly allergic. "As long as you don't breathe on your son at any point today, sure, go crazy."

They let the wind carry their thoughts out of the convertible for a few minutes, and Ben observed other LA residents on the street, going about their daily lives. "Talkin' about peanuts and going on an errand to get jelly is making me very nostalgic."

"The first snack we ever ate together."

"Right…you're right! That was the first one! Just about a minute after I asked you if you lived on the moon 'cause I couldn't figure out your accent." Ben also laughed, throwing his head back and clutching his stomach. "I was so excited about that sandwich."

Reagan glanced over at Ben and noted the mirth on his face upon revisiting that time in their lives. "Well, you were five."

"That's no excuse; five-year-old Ben was a weirdo."

"And nine-year-old Reagan was absolutely in love with him," Reagan reminded him. "I wouldn't let Benjy Mertz out of my sight for a second."

"And how's that any different from now, man?"

Reagan's face split into a sly, knowing smile, yet he carefully declined to comment further.

Once in the store, they somehow managed to grab ten jars of cheap strawberry jelly without being recognized except for the cashier who kept looking from them to the jars in pure confusion.

Ben joined Reagan at Reagan's house, an observant party to the bestowing of jelly jars onto Brady's lap as the boy sat on the sofa in the living room.

"What the hell, Dad," Brady groaned. "This is overkill."

"Oh?" Reagan gestured to Ben. "You want I should set the professional dad on you?"

Ben hunkered over with his hands on his knees and looked Brady in the eye. "I cannot eat peanut butter anymore and you are by all rights a grown man so don't think I won't deck you for that jelly."

Brady thinned his eyes. "Am I…supposed to know what that means?"

"It means eat the damn jelly," Reagan demanded, pulling Ben away from the living room by the back of his collar. "Eat it! Now!"

"Oh my god," Brady murmured, swiping a hand down his own face. He hesitated, then gathered the jars into his arms with the intent to transport them into the kitchen. "You guys are insane."