#the recycling one bout took me out

[deadmomjokes]

The bean has recently started adding advice-giving and reassurances to her goodbyes. You know, like “See ya! Be safe!” and “Bye! Watch out for deer!” “See you soon!” That kind of thing.

Only she’s 3, so her addenda are.... Well....

Going to the park with dad: “Bye bye! Don’t forget to recycle!”

Leaving the Christmas Lights show: “See ya! It’s okay, we’ll be back soon!”

Leaving family holiday dinner: “Bye bye! Sleep good! Don’t worry, we’ll be back in a minute!” Oh, actually, honey, we’re not coming back today. Maybe another day. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back in a.... sometime!!”

Saying bye to Grandma on video call: “Bye, I love you! Don’t go too fast!”

Bye to Great-Grandma on video call: *screaming* “I! LOVE! YOU!!!” *back to peppy chipmunk voice* “Okay bye bye, eat some dinner, love you, MUAH!”

At preschool (leaving, generally addressing class and teachers): “Bye bye, you can do it! Have fun! Wash your hands!”

Also at preschool (arriving, dismissing me): “Bye Mom, don’t forget to have a snack!” *whispers* “Okay you can go now please.”

And, my personal favorite, to the door greeter at the store who gave her a friendly wave and ‘bye bye,’: *waving cheerfully* “No thanks!”

[escelia]

New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

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

Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside. 

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there. 

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable. 

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him. 

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him. 

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively. 

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do. 

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."  

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever. 

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies. 

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read. 

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him. 

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed. 

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming." 

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another. 

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish." 

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming. 

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted. 

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more. 

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness. 

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin. 

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence." 

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed. 

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way. 

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

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

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about. 

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him. 

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time. 

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground. 

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground? 

“Red, hold on! This one's different!” 

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!” 

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along. 

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

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

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table. 

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved. 

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally. 

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed. 

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.” 

“Hmm…” 

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?” 

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him. 

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone. 

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

He did not have a way back to his other dimension. 

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in. 

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father. 

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there. 

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

[theoldsports]

Hi, i want to request a remus x reader, where its a girls night before lily's wedding and they play a spicy truth or dare, where reader realises she needs to ask remus out.

tradition.

FIRST REQUEST SORRY THIS TOOK TIME

1.7k

Bachelorette parties were a time honored tradition where the bride-to-be wore heels that were too tall to be worn drunk and got legendarily plastered with about seven of her worst behaved friends. Lily Evans (soon to be Potter) was almost an exception, but Dorcas bought her these platform go-go boots and it felt rude not to wear them.

Lily assumed the event would be less of a nightmare if [Y/N] planned it, as Dorcas usually took things too far. This way, Lily could almost guarantee that there would be no Chip and Dale-type striper dressed as the left-winger chaser from Puddlemere United. [Y/N] was therefore the most convenient choice for Maid of Honour.

Carefully, the bridal party made their way out of the Three Broomsticks and hauled themselves up the hill to do the rest of the night in Godric’s Hollow. All of them were too far gone to apparate. Sirius had taken James and the boys who knows where for a Bachelor party so the girls could use the house that night. The ‘girls’ consisted of Lily and [Y/N], Dorcas Meadowes, Mary Macdonald, Marlene McKinnon, and Alice Fortesque; basically the contents of their dormitory at school. The seven hung off each other and giggled as old friends as they walked.

“Never thought you’d be the first of us!” Marlene cried in glee, shaking her sharply bobbed dark hair out of her face. “I can’t get over it. Simply.”

“Oh, come off it!” Lily groaned. She was awfully tired of hearing this same banter recycled day in and day out.

Dorcas laughed. “Well, yeah. Marls is right. You hated your poor bastard Potter, for, like, forever. I thought first in and out of the binding contract of marriage was to be Alice and Frankie for sure.”

The most sober player of the evening, Alice, sighed. “Sorry that we’re patient.”

[Y/N] let out a firm laugh, pulling Lily’s set of keys out of her pocket as the house entered their line of view. “Bold assumptions from both Dorcas and Marlene considering you both told me you were gonna marry Sirius Black when you were fifteen or something.” [Y/N] said. Her comment illicited silence from Dorcas and Marlene rampant giggled from Mary, Lily and Alice.

With their Godric’s Hollow destination reached, [Y/N] unlocked the door with some difficulty. The seven flooded inside. Before Mary could loudly announce how bad she had to piss again, [Y/N] asked: “I’ve got a quick question ‘bout Black, actually,” everyone seemed very interested because everyone [Y/N] knew was in love with Sirius Black - unfortunately. “How many of you’v’fucked him? Just… Show off hands.”

Many groans of malcontent echoed through the room. Dorcas and Marlene raised their hands without hesitation, but instead with a bit of regret. Mary’s hand slowly went up with a sigh. Lily and Alice exchanged some knowing looks but both resisted a comment. “Bloody hell, ladies. Is he actually packin’ or something? He’s not that tall, so… Nice hair, but if he weren’t one of my mates, I’d just say he’s average. How does he keep pulling like this?” [Y/N] asked incredulously.

As Mary left finally to piss, Marlene bit back at [Y/N]. “Honestly, I think he’s just charming. Like, something about the smile, the leather jacket. Plus, he’s so fuckin’… noble, like. Yeah?”

“Noble? A guy’s a better fuck ‘cause he’s ‘noble?’” [Y/N] sighed.

“You know what I mean.” Marlene said and Dorcas nodded in agreement.

Dorcas piped up. “Well, [Y/N]. You may be the next among us. Ain’t the Maid of Honour and the… What’s it called? Man of Honour—“

“—Best Man.” Alice correct, pouring herself a sipper of firewhiskey.

“Ain’t the Maid of Honour and the Best Man meant to fuck? After the wedding?” Dorcas finished.

[Y/N]’s eyes widened. “No. Superstition. Clearly. I… Right, Lily?”

Lily’s playful grin widened as she pulled off her go-go boots and tossed her auburn hair into a messy bun. “Well, seeing as neither of you have a real date, then have at it. It’s tradition.”

“That’s vile. You’re vile.”

Mary walked back in from the bathroom. “Who’s vile?”

“Lily. Or Sirius. Can’t remember. Maybe both.” Marlene clarified.

“Ah, he is ‘packing,’ by the way. If nobody’s said that yet.”

[Y/N] was tired of everyone pushing her buttons because she had been single for a while. Single, yes. Desperate enough to shag Sirius Black, no. “Fabian Prewett was not worth all the trouble to keep that relationship going just to have a date to your wedding.” She said.

“He was so pretty!” Dorcas remarked, a drunken slur apparent in her voice.

“Yeah, and he was also a prick. Anyway, there’s no sense in finding someone with, like, days til the wedding.”

Lily sighed loudly. She knew what she was doing. It was that sort of sigh that baited someone to ask why one was sighing.

“What?” [Y/N] asked, scoffing.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Strained silence as all the other girls leaned into listen. “Oh, I’m sure. What’s the problem here?”

“James said one of his boys also doesn’t have a date to the—“ Lily started.

“You already implied Sirius—“

“Remus. Rem doesn’t have anyone.”

A longer, more strained silence.

Marlene gasped. “Holy fuckin’ shit. You should finally ask Remus out.”

“Finally? What do you mean finally? He’s my best mate.” [Y/N] said incredulously.

The other girls shared groans of indignation or shouts of surprise. “Dear, every boy you’ve ever been out with looks like a cheap knock-off of Loony Loopy Lupin. You have to have noticed.” Marlene pointed out.

“Don’t call him that!” Lily butted in.

“Don’t call him that. He doesn’t like it. And simply, I don’t think that’s true. About the boy thing.” [Y/N] insisted.

“Amos Diggory.” Mary said clearly. Amos had been her very first boyfriend. [Y/N] finally said yes to his obvious advances after Remus took a Slytherin girl his friends all hated to Hogsmeade. Amos had then been the same height and build as Remus, with those aggressively kind eyes. However, he was nothing like Lupin in any other way.

“They’re both tall with brown hair. So’s James for that matter—“

“Amos is just the polite version of Lupin. They’re practically the same bloke.” Mary finished he brutal comment and strolled into the kitchen.

“Tony Dolohov—“ Lily pointed out. Antonin Dolohov had been a rebound repeated hookup after Amos had broken up with [Y/N] since he thought she was too ‘disinterested’ in him. It was familiar commentary that Remus and Dolohov looked similar. They were constantly mistaken for the other from the back in school, despite being completely different as people.

“Was a fling!”

“Evil Lupin…” Dorcas sighed.

[Y/N] was ready for another topic of conversation. “So what? I like tall brunette guys from the countryside. Sue me. Fabian Prewett was from out there too, but he was completely—“

“Mm… Yes. Redheaded, pretentious Lupin.” Dorcas grinned tempestuously.

Mary gasped. “That implies our Lupin isn’t pretentious!”

Alice cleared her throat amidst [Y/N] evident shame and irritation. “If you don’t mind my saying, [Y/N], you’ve been down for that boy since you were about fourteen. Lupin, I mean.”

[Y/N] watched Lily nod drunkenly at wise old Alice’s words. “Call him! Call him right now!”

“Fuck you! No!”

Before [Y/N] could do anything else, Marlene began leading a chant of “call him!” with others shouting such fare as “come on, don’t ruin Lily’s party!” That was when she had to pick up the phone, just to get it to stop.

She stood there, listening to the dial tone hum. “Shit. What number am I ringing? He’s not… He’s with James.”

Lily whipped out her wand from her back pocket and wordlessly summoned a number jotted down on a takeaway menu from who knows where in the kitchen. Lily dictated the number to [Y/N], just to make sure she would actually make the call.

“‘Llo?” Sirius Black slurred on the other line. [Y/N] had often heard him wasted, but he was gone-gone tonight. He spoke too loudly into the receiver. After multiple semesters of Muggle Studies, he still hasn’t mastered the telephone.

“Black, it’s [Y/N].”

“Hey there, love,” Sirius suddenly sounded on edge. The world was a scary place these days and such a call was scary to get this late during a bachelor party. [Y/N] thought he sounded more sober, or tried, after she announced herself. “‘S everything okay…?”

“Hm? Yeah, no. All’ve us are fine. Is Lupin there?”

“What you want with Lupin?” Sirius inquired, his tone sounding much more typical of a drunk Sirius Black.

[Y/N] looked over her shoulder at the expectant faces of the girls and an encouraging thumbs up from Alice. “Uh, drinking game, or something. Put him on. Please.”

Sirius sounded like he dropped the receiver away from his face and called something like “Oi Moony, there’s a foxy bird on the phone for you!” into the room near him. After some shuffling and unintelligible grumbling, Remus’s voice came through on the phone.

“Remus Lupin on,” he said too clearly. The kind of clearness of tone one had when stoned out of their mind and attempting to cover it up. But at least he knew how to use a phone. “Who’s speaking?”

“Lupin, it’s me. It’s [Y/N]. Everything’s fine.”

“Oh. Hi?”

“Yeah, hi. All the boy’s watching you right now?”

“Uh,” a pause. “No, yeah. All of ‘em.”

“Same here. Holding a wand to my chest, basically. You still don’t have a date to the wedding, right?”

A longer pause. “Hm? To the wedding, you said?” He swallowed. Dry mouth from nerves or smoking too much, maybe. “No.”

“Right. Nor have I. Wanna go with me? Since we already both, like, have to go? Figured it’d be fun to go with you,” [Y/N] dropped her voice to a whisper. “Like, go-with-me-go-with-me. Real deal date.”

Too long of a pause.

“Remus? You there?”

“Yeah. Yeah! Sure, I’m here, sure. Also, like, yeah, sure. I mean, yeah. I’ll go with you. If you want, I mean. Yeah.”

[Y/N] sighed in relief. “Brilliant. Pop by before and get me. We’ll go together. Ta.”

With that, she hung up.

“Ta?” Dorcas said dramatically. “Ta? You ask the man out and you close with fuckin’ ‘ta?’”

[cant-get-enough-btr-forever]

Big Time Games: "Recycle Rush."

In my last post, I said I would give y'all a play-by-play of Big Time Rush online games. So, that's exactly what I'm doing.

Unfortunately, I can't upload more than 30 images per post. So, I'm only including Recycle Rush in this one. Don't worry—"Stage Rush" will come next.

Enjoy!

The rules are simple: Hit the spacebar to drop the trash on the boy below you (he catches it). The trash eventually gets dropped into a dumpster.

Also, lol—cows give you bonus points. "Green Time Rush" approves.

This is how my very first game went:

Side note: Notice how the Palmwoods only has two floors. The levels literally stack up as the game goes on. Interesting.

Let's try this again!

Carlos drops it on James...

...James drops it in the dumpster...

And, uh, yeah. That's it. That's the whole game.

Level 2: I noticed that these yellow exclamation points pop up over their heads. They let you know when the boys are about to turn around. Good to know! I just wish someone had told me...

Suddenly, a wild Kendall appears.

To accommodate this new arrival, the Palmwoods morphs into a 3-story building. See what I mean?

Kendall valiantly carries out his duty.

Level 3: There is now a 2-liter bottle magically floating in the hallway.

So this is how you get bonus points—you need to drop the trash on the bottle and the guy simultaneously. It isn't always a bottle; sometimes it's a banana peel or a soda can. Clearly, you need a bit of timing (and patience) for this.

But since I'm an expert, I pulled it off. On the second try.

Ah, Logan. 'Bout time you showed up.

Side note: The elevators' positions don't make sense. Why are they so far apart from each other?

Crap. I dropped trash all over the lobby. Bitters is not gonna like this.

Logan's exclamation point works well here—it's like he's saying, "What the—dude, seriously?! I'm over here!"

Anyhoo, I was able to restart Level 3…

…only to fail once more.

This is not good for my ego.

'Tis but a scratch. I brushed myself off and labored on.

Level 4:

Listen, I really wanted to know what would happen if I dropped the trash on the Cow.

Don't make the mistakes that I made, friends. You must always ensure that the boy is under the trash, too.

Still, it was hilarious to watch the Cow plummet whilst enveloped in a trash bag.

I corrected my actions, and was rewarded with the sight of Logan carrying the whole frickin' frackin' Cow on his back.

Ahem. Anyway.

Does this mean that they're going to recycle a...a cow??

Whew. The Cow jumped out. By the way, in this level, the dumpster moves from side to side. Is the Palmwoods haunted again, or...?

Level 5: The guys are now speed-walking. Thanks, boys. Make my job harder for me.

Also, here's something bizarre: Carlos starts out on the top floor, while James is directly below him.

Moments later, Carlos is several floors below, and James is in the lobby.

Well, they ain't called Big Time RUSH for nothing!

Level 7 (Level 6 is identical to Level 5): Okay, everything is going about the sa—

Wait.

Oh, dear God.

There are two Jameses.

Who recycles more garbage than YOU?

I love this game, guys.

From here onwards, the difficulty doesn't change much. So, I simply got my score to 10,000 before stopping. Which took a lot longer than I'm willing to admit.

Final Thoughts: This is quite fun. More fun than I thought it would be, which is always nice. I give it an 8/10.

If anyone wants to give it a whirl, here it is. Be sure to use a computer, and not a mobile device.

Happy playing! 😁

[historia-vitae-magistras]

You got anymore fics or hc of Alfred being a good brother to his 8ft tall beanpole?

'tis garbage I wrote about 20 years ago and is poorly recycled but here! enjoy if you can lmao. TW for poorly written ptsd, references to beheading and axe murder and snuggles.

1920, Quebec City.

"I'm fine." His baby brother said, even as he looked like he desperately needed to lay down.

"Matt, that cough does not sound good,"

"It's fine," He said, stifling another fit with a harsh swallow. Alfred grimaced and jogged to keep up as Matt strode ahead on the rain-battered sidewalk and took the umbrella with him, like speeding up would disprove the implication he wasn't at perfect 100%. How could it sound like he'd been gassed recently?

"You sound miserable,"

"It's fine," Matthew said again, shrugging and knuckling his chest as he struggled to keep his breathing even. "It's just the weather. Tell me about the new Ford coming out,"

"Oh it's a beauty, they're even going to come out with other colours than black," Alfred said, longing to reach out and squeeze Matt's shoulder and steer him inside. "But it will mostly only affect internal market goods.

"Interesting. What are the implications with free trade?"

"Don't try to distract me. I know you don't give a shit about economic law unless you're being forced,"

"If it interests you, it interests me,"

"You can't force yourself to be quiet through this,"

Matt rolled his eyes. "I'm not dying,"

"You kind of sound like you are,"

"Then I'll die!" Matt shrugged and gave one of his rare, frustrated Gallic shrugs. "C'est la vie! And honestly, it'd be nice to sleep without waking up coughing. Wake up and go to work tomorrow with more than an hour of sleep behind me,"

Alfred frowned, a surge of helplessness as he watched Matt press on through the rain as if determined to outpace whatever was wrong. Alfred lengthened his stride to keep up and get back under the umbrella, snatching it from Matt’s hand to make him slow down.

“Come on,” He said, steering them both down the path towards the subway stop.

Halfway down the park hill, he couldn't stifle anymore and ended up clinging to a tree branch, doubled over and coughing so hard veins corded at his forehead and throat and when he breathed, he shuddered through another bout so hard Alfred thought he was going to throw up all over the park path. He sucked in air and the wheeze that accompanied it was so horrific Alfred grabbed his shoulders and steered him to a bench as Matthew tried to get his breathe. Air coming in and out rapidly and almost uselessly like Matt was breathing through shredded black smiths billows. Alfred pulled him upright.

Two neatly dressed couples threw them dirty looks like Matt was some infectious consumptive polluting a public park. Alfred glowered right back. He might have flirted with the one who’s dainty green dress that was fashionably short to show off shapely legs but now he was just frustrated.

"Go fuck off to the circus if you want to gawk at something!" He yelled and the men sped along, dragging the women with them. Matt made another face gesturing for Alfred to stop but couldn't get words out as coughing wracked him all over again.

It was another five minutes of Matt coughing and coughing and coughing before he stopped and collapsed on Alfred's shoulder, heaving.

"Jesus Christ, Matt," Alfred said. “You sound like you’re dying.

"I’m not—" Matt heaved air, it caught in his throat and he hacked out another pounding cough that left him spasming and shivering against Alfred. "It comes and goes,"

"Are you sure it's not consumption?"

"Yeah, Dad made them x-ray me three times during demobilization, I'm just like this now,"

"What? Chronically asthmatic?"

Matt shook his head. "I’m not chronically anything. It’s just a bad day every now and and again."

"Is that what doctors say?"

Matt nodded and leaned more heavily onto him, panting again.

"You're burning up," Alfred could feel it against his coat. “Mattie…”

Another nod. “Like I said, it comes and goes.”

He sighed, getting them to their feet. “Christ, Matt.”

“Oh, don’t look so sad.” Matt rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, the supply of your favourite whiskey isn’t about to dry up.”

“Is that what you think? Fuck you.” Alfred scowled. “You’re such a–” Realization dawned on him and he turned to his brother, grabbing his shoulder again. “You little shit. You’re trying to piss me off so I leave this alone, aren’t you?”

Matt blinked, taken aback. “Fuck me, you finally figured that one out?”

“You little asshole,” He laughed. “That is so manipulative.”

“Hardly. You’re so self righteous usually all I have to do is mention Dad and you’ll leave me alone for a month. What is this? Character development?” He laughed, and the coughing started again.

This time, Matt didn’t argue when Alfred insisted they go home. The grey stone heart of his brother’s first city, into the stone houses behind the stone walls the English and the Americans had besieged more than once. Behind slate walls, warm wood greeted them as they passed through the red door with the same iron hinges, squashed between what had once been the apothecary and the bakery. Matt had once been stingy with the firewood but now he had electricity and the coal fired boiler in the basement that heated the house beyond the parlour with its polished brass fire grate and brick hearth.

"Sit," Matth said as he leaned against the wall. He threw aside his damp coat and propped himself against the worn wood. Scrubbing his damp hair off his forehead, he sighed. "I guess I should make coffee and sandwiches or something."

“Will you bite my head off if I offer to make something?” Alfred asked, cautiously toeing off his shoes.

Matt gave a wry sort of look, almost amused. “No.”

“Hallelujah.” Alfred replied, throwing his hands above his head.

“Don’t push it.” Matt said but his face was light.

Alfred chuckled and headed to the kitchen. He rummaged through the cabinets, with all the fine little details of grapevines heavy with fruit and swirling knotwork that reminded him of Aunt Brighid’s embroidery. He thumbed one and wished she was there. She wouldn’t put up with this. He put on water to boil, dug a slightly dessicated chicken carcass out of the fridge, tore it apart to make sandwiches, put the bones on to make soup and returned to the living room with a mug and a plate for each of them.

Matt was sprawled on sofa, his face pink. Alfred didn’t want to wake him up, they both spent so much time ignoring the other’s nightmares these days. He still looked like Matt when he was asleep, sweet and still, like the man the cherubic baby Matt should have grown into rather than the wraith that had to shake off their father or the trenches. But he was feverish and Alfred made himself wake him.

“Here,” He said, handing Matt tea and the sandwich.

“Thanks.” Matt said quietly. He drank the tea eagerly but set the plate down next to him.

“Eat that.” Alfred said, taking a bite out of his own and throwing himself onto the leather chair. “You always do this when you’re sick. Don’t want to eat, don’t want to bother anyone, don’t want to admit you feel like ass. Just like Dad. It’s fucking annoying.”

“No one said you have to be here.” Matt glared, but he had picked up the sandwich and taken a decent bite. “Happy?”

“Never happy when you’re miserable.”

Matt snorted. “Oh, that’s bullshit.”

“Stop.” Alfred sat forward, hands on each of the chair’s arms. “Stop, okay? God. I know you’re–”

“Know I’m what?” Matt took another bite of the stupid sandwich and there was a flash of something flinty and dark behind his eyes Alfred didn’t like.

“Like how you always are after a war,”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you get good at killing and keeping everyone alive and–”

“And what?” Matt said.

“You get shit at everything anything else.” Alfred desperately wanted a cigarette but it felt a bit cruel. “Bring back Gilbert’s head like some sort of fucked up barn cat, sure, you’re great at that. But lay down and act like a human being? God forbid.”

“Oh don’t you–” Matt sighed through his nose and ate more, and too Alfred’s bewilderment, smiled. “You know how often I tell Dad something like that?”

Alfred stared, but leaned back, holding his coffee. “You back talk the old man?”

“Bringing Gilbert’s head back like a fucked up barn cat gave me some leeway.” Matt said, the sly smile on his face fading into something more serious. “But yeah. By the end, by the hundred days, we talked. About what I did. About what he didn’t stop. And I told him to shove it up his ass sometimes. He’s a hypocrite and so am I.”

“Sometimes.” Alfred responded. “You’re still a pretty good brother though.”

“Thanks.” Matt said. “I try.”

“I know.” Alfred said. “And I’m sorry I don’t sometimes.”

Matt shrugged. “Not your job. You don’t have to waste your time if you don’t want too. I’ll live, the overpriced booze will keep flowing. I shut up and do my job, everyone benefits. It’s fine.”

“We’re brothers.” Alfred said. “We’re supposed too… I don’t know.”

“You’re a rising great power, I’m the favourite knife of the British Empire. We have our roles. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want too.”

“Matt–”

He’d drooped against the arm of the sofa, breathing ragged, unable or unwilling to reply.

“You with me?”

“Yeah.” He responded, hoarse. “Sorry.”

“Is this from the gas too?”

“Yeah,” He didn’t off anymore of an explaination and Alfred shook his head.

“Dumbass,” He stood, and crouched to reach out. He gently placed the back of his hand against his brother’s forehead. “All you have to do is ask for help and, fuck, I think you’re warmer.”

“Just tired.” He murmured, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Mattie…” How many times in a day could he let denial slide before it was stupid? Matt was trying to rally himself, push Alfred off and reach for the tea, muttering about how he was fine when there was a loud crack. The windows rattled and suddenly he had his arms full of his brother, shaking like the last maple leaves on the trees, eyes screwed shut and mouthing something in French Alfred couldn’t make out.

“Hey,” Alfred laughed nervously. “Hey, you cold?”

“They’re coming.” Matt said, and the fever flush had disapeared. He looked bloodless. “They’re coming.”

“Hey.” Alfred suddenly understood. “Hey it’s okay. I’m right here. Matthew, I am right here. Nothing’s wrong. It was a car backfiring, not gunfire. No one’s coming.”

Matt leaned in more, burying his face in Alfred. “You don’t let anything happen to me.”

“Never have, never will.” Alfred rested one cheek on Matt’s feverish head. He held on tight, feeling the tremors that sprang through Matt until they stilled. But Matt’s breathing was still fast and shallow. He hadn’t been this close in a while, and the path of Matt’s spine showed through his layers, and he’d had that pinched up look half his life.

“Come on.” He said, gently. “Bed.”

“No.” He burrowed against Alfred more tightly, like he was four, barely spoke English and it was a cold morning he didn’t feel like greeting just yet. He’d always had a streak of stubbornness.

Eventually, Alfred got him up, got him to change and horizontal. He was a little delirious, shivering between the sheets and coughing until he was curled in a ball and muttering about how he needed his axe. But he didn’t get up to get it. He breathed through a split lip and rolled around trying to get comfortable. Alfred fed him pills and glass after glass of water, and somewhere around the seventh, Matt seemed to pass out into real sleep. Alfred sat on the bed and pressed his hands to Matt’s cheeks and was relieved to find it a little cooler.

Matt rolled over towards him, hugging his side, demanding warmth and making a contented sound when Alfred let him with a snort. “You always were a snuggly baby.”

[l0tu2]

FUTURE PROJECTS for AO3.

these are all future fanfics i will be publishing on AO3. however, i do need opinions on which ships you would like me to post before the others; which will be deemed more popular, etc. feel free to also add possible ships in the comments below, and i’ll decide if i’ll also add them on. my account is sinssvirtuess, where i will update all stories there.

Kiri x Roxto ⎯⎯ Him

The angered bout replayed in the young teen’s mind, over and over again. What is he to you? Jealous tone from a curled headed metkayina apparent and raw. Felt misplaced and weird — Kiri didn’t even know why she indulged in such affairs of immaturity and rashness. Scene of puffed chests and venomous jabs still clear and surfaced. Had she read their friendships wrong? Did - Did Roxto yearn for more? She couldn’t fathom anything becoming of them. Eyes stared at an open palm, clenching it into a fist. Reminiscing a certain teal hand clasping around it; genuine and loving.

Lo’ak x Ao’nung ⎯⎯ Shared and Halved

Demon-blood. Half-breed. Freak. Despite all the insults thrown in their poison, repeated and recycled, Ao’nung still felt driven to shovel more. Make that four-fingered freak bleed in self-loathing, Yet, after the debacle of the boy’s near-death, and getting the courage to cover for him, reef boy couldn’t find it to continue his onslaught. Instead, he sought to make amends. And as he stood there, hands wrung and eyes downcast, the younger’s presence did not fail to entice something more. Hot breath fanned his face, sneer evident. “I took the fall for you. It’s time for you to pay what you owe, fishlips.”

Kiri x Ao’nung ⎯⎯ Eywa’s Fortune

A breath hitched in her throat, hands clutching the necklace inherited by her mother. Wide, yellow eyes frantically looked around the forest, aware she was not inside her family’s marui. Forest. Trees. Warm body beside her, sleeping soundly. With lowered ears, the girl dared to peek over her shoulder at the teal body — deep in his slumber. Curls splayed across the floor. She remembered. Few weeks after bottled grief, she’d ran here to cry and scream; unaware someone followed behind her. In the midst of her emotion, they’d made a mistake. A grave, grave mistake. Eywa help her.

Tsireya x Kiri ⎯⎯ Under Pretense and Secrecy

She knew it was wrong. Her brother pined after the olo’eyktan and tsahìk’s daughter relentlessly, close to courting. But the young girl was just so kind and warm and smart. Tsireya never judged Kiri for her appearance — welcomed it, even. Complimented her on her beauty which Kiri often failed to see. Tsireya was the one who was beautiful. She was perfect. And although it was just practice in the middle of night, with the promise of girl talk and giggles, their lips still locked in a kiss. A lie of them preparing for their future mates with the excuse to meet again. And, damn, was Tsireya a good kisser.

Roxto x Ao’nung ⎯⎯ Heartache

The heir had enough of this. Roxto had been bitching, moaning, and being a complete dick for no reason. It’s happened ever since the introduction to Ao’nung’s potential betrothed. He’s been dismissal. Downright disrespectful — to the point Tonowari noticed their disarray and commented on it. Time came to confront his friend about it. When he did, Ao’nung never anticipated what happened next. How this truly affected Roxto.

Neteyam x Roxto ⎯⎯ Miracle Boy

“You’re okay. I’m here. I’m here,” a deep, sultry voice comforted. Warm hands cupped a tear-streaked face, eyes full of panic and fear. The nightmare — no, the memory engraved within his mind. Torturing him. Reminding him. Wound in Neteyam’s chest burned and pained, further resulting in tears to spill and his mouth to hang agape, desperate to catch a breath. Once again, the teen before him coddled and cooed, slowly walking him out of his misery and into reality. The present. “Neteyam, just listen to my voice. Empty your mind. Feel your heart,” Roxto whispered in the dark, his tanhí a beautiful constellation.

Lo’ak x Roxto ⎯⎯ Chasing Infinite

They’d been drunk. It hadn’t meant anything. What they did was under the influence. Nothing more — no feelings involved. Images flashed: hands scraping his skin, a hot tongue swiping against his own, desperate pants leaving and affiliating the sparked air between them. A cry of his name. Lo’ak. Lo’ak. Lo’ak. “Lo’ak!”

[quaranmine]

Hi yeah its me again, sorry for the spam, not my fault you made cool and inspiring stuff. This time actually, i couldnt help myself and have made a short crackpodfic of an alternative universe which is basically 'AU where Mumbo is frolicking in the wild and Grian doesnt exist cause itd be too sad for him to do so, so hes gone.' Its stupid, ist badly written (literally my first ever creative writing work other than a 300 word school asignment) but like idk. if you dont want to or cant read it (cause its so bad and burns your eyes out) you can just not read it xd idc honestly but decided to maybe give you the choice of reading it or not. Excuse my weird and unusual ways of writing dialougue and monolouges This is part 1 of 3

Jellie meowed cutely, demanding for food most likely just as a familar figure walked into his cabin. —Oh Hello Cub! It's wonderful to see you again! How was the trail, you're earlier than usual, no? — Scar exclaimed happily, looking at the sweaty man now standing before him. The air was hot, the many glass windows of the watchtower could make a great greenhouse. The open windows allowed for a warm flow of the early summer's air to pass by and refresh the mostly closed space. —Hey hey. Yeah the traffic was better than usual, but there was more sand in on the trail today. I think it could be the Sahara desert dust that was supposed to get carried in with the wind. — Cub said, taking his backpack off and pulling out a rag to wipe his head off. No matter how many times he hikes through this trail it never gets much easier. — Oh, Cub. The Sahara desert was blowing on Europe! And also it's the 80s and this specific situation you're referencing is gonna happen in late March of the year 2024! That's at least 35 years into the future! —Oh yup I forgot. Sorki bout that —Cub, you silly silly man! — Scar said in a singsong tone. Both of them started laughing and looked straight into the readers eyes, smiling.  Hi reader they both thought and went back to laughing looking at each other. — Actually, Scar, while hiking I heard some tourists talking about some newfound cryptid roaming these parts, what's up with that? – Eh nothing special, some bikers saw a 'humanoid lanky bugman' or something. — The man said — I've seen it all over, people come, they see a black bear or a deer in the shadow and think it's a newfound species. But honestly! I gotta give credit to the bikers relating said encounter cause the guys were better than most at storytelling! The missing food cans, rustling in the bushes all around them, the feeling of being watched.. Truly creepy stuff! And then — Scar took in a breath, talking so much in one long exhale left him almost dizzy —the moment when they saw it fully...They described it as 'particularly lanky with black fur' and something about purple-pinkish fingertips as well as residue on its paleish naked face with a weirdly shaped snout. 'Like a Walrus' they said! A crazy comparison for a bear, but you know, human mind can do wonders! — Scar clapped at the last statement and closed his eyes smiling charmingly at his companion who was now drinking the rest of his water.. After a while, comfortable silence filled the watchtower as both of the men enjoyed eachothers company. Jellie was now purring against scars leg and promptly jumped on his lap demanding more pets as Cub had finally spoken up — Any new paintings done in the meantime? I don't recognise these two, are they new or recycled? — He asked, curiosity clear in his voice, lookin at the, indeed, two new paintings decorating the cabin. One of them depicting a landscape with a sunset. From where Cub was sitting, he could watch the same, now hidden under an overcast, mountains and trees. The other painting was of a group of three tufted titmice sitting on a branch. Cub took out his American bird field guy and read a couple of paragraphs to scar on what kind of bird has he drawn exactly. It's weird that he saw these birds cause apparently they don't live in that part of the US! Crazy.

HELPPPPP this is completely insane the best way, thank you. Love that Grian doesn't exist here because it'd be too sad for him. Love the fever-dream quality to the writing. In all the best ways you're taking me back to the crack fics I'd read on ff.net in 2013, it's great. Love the breaking the fourth wall abou the Sahara dust and the (assuming) European birds. You've got a certain hint of Douglas Adams flavoring happening with the switching to an "above" perspective for a moment to give a wry little fourth-wall comment.

Mumbo Jumbo, new forest cryptid. I can see it. If Hermitcraft!Mumbo eats redstone, do you think forest cryptid!Mumbo would eat like...rocks??? dlfjskfljslkfs

[themoonprincess110]

Changes (Yakuza Fic Preview)

Characters:  Saejima Taiga & Majima Goro, Nishida

Summary: Saejima has had a tough time adjusting to the outside world since he got out of prison. Turns out Majima has trouble with adjusting too.

Tags/Warnings: Post Yakuza 4, Yakuza 4 spoilers, PTSD, Alcohol, Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Grown Men Crying, Angst, Grieving, Fluff, First Names, Fighting, Yasuko (mentioned), The Majima Family, Brief Vomiting, Y1 Majima Behaviour, Y0 Spoilers

Read Full on AO3

*Preview*

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

“Welcome home, kyoudai.” He greeted, looking up.

“Yo. You’re up early, ain’t ya?” Majima noted, yawning loudly and walking to the fridge. His face was covered in sweat, his eye was bloodshot, and Saejima observed as the man harshly rubbed his palm against his eye patch as he grabbed a beer. Saejima grunted in response to his brother and looked back down at his sketchbook, watching from the side of his eyes as Majima promptly began to chug the whole beer in one go, then slammed the empty can on the counter, looking agitated.

“Everythin’ good?” Saejima questioned, putting his pencil down.

“Haw? ‘Course it is. Just got a headache or somethin’.” Another thing to adjust to. His brother’s strange, over the top kansai-ben and how there wasn’t a trace of his native speech left in his voice.

“Beer ain’t gonna help ya then.” He replied mildly, earning a scoff from the other man.

“What are ya, my ma?” Majima grumbled before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door, leaving Saejima to himself. The larger man decided to make some coffee so he stood up, bypassing the fancy machine that squirted weird foamy stuff into little cups, and grabbed some of the instant kind he picked up from the store. He heard water for the bath running as he disposed of the abandoned beer can in the recycling bin. Outside, the sky past their balcony was becoming lighter as the sun started coming up for the morning. Saejima made his coffee, putting away his sketchbook along the way, and deciding to make a light breakfast. He wasn’t much of a chef but he had some practice working kitchen duty behind bars, so decided to prepare some rice, grill some fish, and dug through the alcohol infested fridge for some natto. After a bit, he placed his dishes on the table, sitting down as bright yellow light began shining through the big apartment windows, illuminating the space around him. Majima exited the bathroom with a towel around his waist, his eye uncovered Saejima noted, and walked to his bedroom.

“Hey. Come eat somethin’ before ya go to bed.” Saejima called out.

“Huh? Ya cookin’ an’ shit now?” He heard through the wall of the bedroom.

“Guess so. ‘Bout time, ain’t it? C’mon before ya fall over.”

“The fuck? Ya think I’m fragile or some shit? I’m fitter than a fuckin’ fiddle.” Saejima scoffed.

“You’re gettin’ old, same as me. Might as well get some nutrition in ya.”

“Speak for yourself, old man. I’m gettin’ younger every fuckin’ year.” The man walked out with a pair of sweatpants on and a t-shirt that read something in english Saejima couldn’t read. It was a lot milder attire than what his brother usually wore these days but it reminded him of when they were kids, if not for the eyepatch which was secured back over his eye. Majima picked up a pack of cigarettes and shook one out of the box, flicking his expensive gold lighter open and moving the flame to the tip. He took a big inhale in and sighed, letting the smoke escape from between his lips. Despite the fact he had just gotten out of the bath, his face seemed pale and the dark circles surrounding his eye was prominent. Saejima wondered how much he had been taking care of himself all these years, as since he had started living here he had barely seen his brother get himself a glass of water, let alone a meal. He always did act like he would fight off sickness with his bare hands, but he was turning forty-six this year with a lifetime of bad habits. Not that he was really any better himself, but there was no alcohol in jail unless you paid a guard off, and he had been eating three meals a day, right on time. His kyoudai, though he was undoubtedly strong, was half the size of him and would sniffle half the year from hay fever. Saejima remembered when Yasuko started cooking for them after she became healthy. She insisted it was the least she could do, picking up cookbooks from the sale section and letting them taste all her attempts at new recipes. She always made extra to put in the fridge for Majima when he came by, followed by him enthusiastically encouraging her no matter how the dish turned out. The two of them would have to be on their own now, he thought gloomily, lamenting on how he would never be able to eat his sisters cooking again, then shook the thought out of his mind.

“Sit down.” Saejima urged the other man. Majima shrugged and sat across from him at the table, slouching down in the seat and tapping his cigarette on an ash tray. Saejima grabbed another serving of breakfast from the kitchen and placed it in front of him before continuing to eat. Majima assessed the breakfast on the table.

“Ya even eat like an old man.” He commented, before picking at his fish with his chopsticks.

“Nothin’ wrong with a classic breakfast. That western stuff’s too heavy anyway.”

“Ya just got outta the slammer after twenty-five years. Live a little, eh, bro?” Saejima shook his head.

“Why don’t ya eat with that mouth instead of yammerin’ away at me.” He scolded and Majima scowled, picking up some rice out of his bowl. They continued in silence, Majima barely eating any food, just moving it around with his chopsticks. Saejima noticed his forehead was starting to become shiny with sweat again, despite the fact the AC was still running. The man was looking down at his breakfast with a face Saejima didn’t recognize. His eyebrows were knitted together, his jaw clenched tightly and it was like he was looking far away despite his being eye pinned to the rice bowl in front of him.

“Kyoudai.” Majima didn’t move from where he was looking, lost deep in thought.

“Kyoudai.” Saejima repeated, a bit louder.

“What?” He finally murmured back in response, putting his chopsticks down and running his hands over his face. Saejima wondered if he was coming down with something, as he had already mentioned a headache earlier and seemed to be looking paler by the second. He reached out to feel his forehead, fingers just barely brushing over his skin before Majima jumped back, chair scrapping against the floor with his movement. He looked at Saejima with a wide eye before his face morphed into a display of anger, glaring at him.

“The hell are ya touchin’ me for!” The man snapped.

Read full fic on AO3

[tryst-art-archive]

"Whatcha Reading?"

            One autumn six years ago, a girl by the nickname of Mare happened to suffer a bout of uncharacteristically outgoing behavior upon spotting a younger girl who was reading Lirael by Garth Nix. Mare approached the girl and inquired of the book. In doing so, she took the first step toward an immensely strong bond the likes of which neither girl had known before nor would know after. Indeed, this relationship proved to be one of the key aspects influencing the lives of the two girls.

Mare and I, the younger girl, share a rare case of friendship. Unlike most bonds which break when stretched over distance, the bond between Mare and I actually strengthened when put to the test. We had initially lived fifteen minutes’ walk away from each other. This changed the summer before Mare entered high school, when she moved to Vermont. She was, suddenly, three hours away. It was then that we became the sisters of one another’s souls or “sissahs,” as we termed it. Our friendship, we felt, was unique, and indeed it began to shape us as people.

            For myself, the friendship expanded my ability to interact with others. I had, over the years, become accustomed to sheltering myself behind a façade that marked me as that bland, uninteresting, harmless person who can only ever be described as “nice.” I had learned, furthermore, to alter that façade based upon whom I was interacting with, and I had also discovered the safety of acting as a lapdog to stronger personalities. With Mare, this changed. Though her personality was stronger than mine, she was far too submissive to allow for my own subordination. Thus, I began to find within myself the potential for becoming the stronger personality. By conversing and spending time with Mare, I began to become more accustomed to “being myself.” I thus learned how to show who I was when interacting with other people. Consequentially, my general sociability increased, allowing me to later partake in my high school’s drama club and develop leadership skills in the Environmental and Recycling Club.

            Mare also helped to increase my open-mindedness. For example, Mare is a lesbian, and I was witness to her discovery of this fact. She introduced me to the gay community’s perspective, and I became one of the first members of my graduating class who understood and accepted gay and lesbian students. I eventually became the teacher in my own turn, helping sheltered friends who had been brought up believing that homosexuality was somehow morally corrupt and disgusting to overcome their prejudices. Even now, Mare’s influence allows me to consider new ideas and see them for both their merits and their faults.

            Mare, the “other” who startled me out of the sad, lonely shell I had once inhabited, has been a tremendous influence and friend. She has aided me in nearly every aspect of life, helping me to become a better person, advising and comforting me in times of need, as well as supporting me in both my creative and academic efforts. I have grown from the isolated, resentful child I once was, moving on to develop new relationships, uncover contentment, and begin to look beyond my own, small world. I find it safe to say that I could not have progressed so much without Mare’s influence.

[jeonfiles]

better left unsaid - jjk

genre: angst, rebounds

pairings: jungkook x reader (ft. namjoon)

warnings: arguing, alcohol, profanity, break ups, light smut, use of drugs, jungkook is a fucking dick, jungkook has major attachment issues, toxic relationships, oc cries a lot, namjoon has a heart of gold, unrequited love

synopsis: you knew you shouldnt have given him that second chance, not the third or the fourth either. no matter how much you try he always slithers his way underneath your sheets, arms wrapped around you.

word count: 2.7k

music: into your arms, so it ends?, you will fade, thinkin bout you, julia, my insecurities not yours, fuck u, goodluck, my dear i will think of you

note: uhh ive never written a y/n fic so bare with me, if u listen to the music you’ll be able to feel the story a lot more so yeah if u have time u should, not proof read

Light coming through the cracks of the blinds, making you squint your eyes when the daylight beams into your eyes, head resting on the kitchen island Looking up, you saw the clock ticking on the wall, 11:32 am.

You had stayed up till 5 am, waiting for him to come home, but seemingly, he never did. Reaching for your phone, you saw 4 missed calls from the one and only,

Jeon Jungkook, saved in your phone as “Koo <3″, Rows of messages too, all from the same contact.

Koo <3 [05:34 am]

baby pkck me up pleseee

im so wsated

Koo <3 [06.46am]

dont be mad at me jsut pick me up

i dont knw hewere the fuck i am

i love you

Koo <3 [07:31 am]

i got a rde home i’ll be home by 12

i need to talk to someone frsit

im sorry if i woke ypu dont be worried

You took a few moments to collect your thoughts, but there wasn’t much to collect. This whole thing, was a routine by now.

Standing up to make yourself a cup of coffee, you could literally not feel your own backside, you were so sore from the barstool you had been sitting on all night, and it made you groan in pain.

Two coffee cups right beside the kitchen sink, which you couldn’t bring yourself to clean up, because it was from the last time you had coffee together, which was 2 weeks ago.

The inside of the cup had a coffee crust at the top, and both your lip tint marks on the outside.

When you finish your cup of coffee while watching a bad telenovela, you go sit in your favorite chair and pull out a few books from the backpack hanging on the chair next to you, getting ready to get some studying done.

For a few seconds you imagine Jungkook hanging over your shoulder laughing at the way you write your A-s and R-s, or the way you always sign your homework at the bottom of the page.

And when you open them, there’s no one there. The only sound is from the refrigerator, making refrigerator noises.

You had met Jungkook 3 years ago, when you were at college orientation, senior year of high school. He also wanted to attend Yonsei, just like you.

And when he whispered to you about how bored he was, you couldn’t help but giggle, and then you got yelled at.

It was worth it though, because everyone was jealous of you afterwards,the  Jeon Jungkook had talked to you.

Jungkook was an all-rounder as they called it; great physique, intelligent, charismatic and great at sports.

And god, he had a beautiful face, and such a filthy mouth, and it didn’t go long before you gave in to his seductive ways and slept with him. The morning after, he wasn’t in bed with you, and your heart sank.

Luckily, he was in the kitchen making you breakfast.

It was all bliss from there, showering you with love, gifts and kisses for two years, and you even ended up moving in together.

And now? You barely remember what he sounds like, smells like and is like.

A distant memory, just as distant as him.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted as you heard 3 knocks on your door. The exact same way he had always knocked when he had forgotten (or lost) his keys.

And even though you should have let him suffer a little, you rushed to the door to open it, and in front of you, was your biggest nightmare.

It was your love, crying his eyes out, bleeding from one of many cuts on his face, looking nearly dead. He collapsed into your arms, and you could only utter a few words, along the lines of:

“How could you do this to us?”

As he was laying curled up in a ball on the couch, face plastered up, ice bag on his knee, wrapped up in a blanket, you realized. this was your que to cry.

So, you did. You cried in silence, sitting across the room from him. You weren’t mad at him for coming home late, or getting in another fight, probably the 5th just these past months, you had gotten used to that by now.

There was a whole other reason that made you cry.

He smelled like Victorias Secret Bombshell, you recognized the scent because it used to be your favorite,  however, now you’ve moved onto something less sweet, and more elegant, like Caroline Herrera.

He smelled like someone who wasn’t you, his girlfriend.

He smelled like another girl.

It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Maybe because the Jungkook that had come home to you that morning wasn’t your Jungkook.

Your Jungkook was varsity jackets, star of the american football team (which your school was known for), selfless and humorous, and he would always take care of you.

Your Jungkook was not ungroomed hair, cigarettes and worsening grades. He was not cold and lifeless, and he would never make you cry.

Despite this, you were carding your fingers though his hair, thumb wiping away the blood on his lips while he was sound asleep as you slowly fell asleep next to him.

Maybe it was time to let him go. 

Maybe.

You woke a few hours later from your phone vibrating.

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:01 pm]

Hey Y/N! Have you started working on the statistics assignment?

If you haven’t, would you be interested in meeting at the library tomorrow? You’re really smart and i’m kinda struggling ://

You [07:03 pm]

i finished it yesterday, but if you buy me coffee i’ll come help you hehe

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:04 pm]

You’re the best, I’ll bring you a machiatto!! :D

Maybe it would be nice for you to get out of the house, even though you hate the thought of it, and you would much rather just swim in your own sorrow.

But you did go out the next day, and you helped Namjoon get a decent grade, enough to pass with good margines, he thanked you by taking you out for ramen at a convenial store not too far away.

You thanked him for the ramen with a trip to the museum, and he thanked you for the museum trip with a picnic in the park at night, which led you to crying over Jungkook in his embrace, telling him every single little detail.

He made you realize it was time to let Jungkook go and make room for new people to enter your life.

You went home that night, and you found Jungkook passed out on the couch, and you could genuienly feel your chest tighten. Soft features which stood out under the moonlight glow, disheveled brown locks which hung down in his eyes.

He was gorgeous, until you saw the credit card on the table next to three bottles of soju and an empty beer can on the floor. And you knew what he had used the credit card for, though you didn’t want to say it out loud.

You cleaned everything up, and you threw the residue of the white powder right in the trash can, and you recycled his bottles and cans before finally, nudging him to wake up.

“Jungkook, wake up.” You spat coldly, or at least you attempted to.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes before opening his eyes, and s huge smile on his face. “Y/N, you’re home!” He reached to kiss you, but you backed away.

“Y/N?” Jungkook questioned, he didn’t quite understand what your intentions were.

“Don’t try anything Jungkook. This was your last chance, and you fucked it up, again.” The room turned ice cold. “I’m getting you help Jungkook, you need help. And then...”

He understood what kind of help you meant, and since he had now sobered up, he agreed, nodding. “And then...?” 

“And then.” Your words were ludged in your throat. “And then I’m leaving you.”

His whole face dropped, smile turned into the frowniest frown you had ever seen, and it was all silent before his lower lip starts trembling, and his eyes start turning glassy.

“It’s alright. Sorry for burdening you.” Was all he could say before tears rushed down his cheeks, and he started shaking.

So you did what you always had done, and you wrapped your arms around him, head resting on your chest as he sobbed.

“Is there anyone else?” he cried out before another wave of sobs hit him.

This exact question made your stomach hurt, and your throat burn. You really had no idea.

Or you did, but you didn’t want to.

You loved Jungkook so much, but you couldn’t be with him in this state. So you did what every rational person would do in this situation.

“Yeah.”

You lied.

“Oh ok. I don’t have the right to be mad do I?”

You shake your head no.

“I love you Y/N. I’m sorry I’m so messed up.”

“It’s ok.” was all he said before he fell asleep in your arms again.

That night you slither your way out of his embrace and you pack your suitcase in the dark, bringing all your essentials, trying to be as quiet as possible so you didn’t wake Jungkook.

Packing enough for two weeks or so, you make the bed and leave your t-shirt “accidentally” in the bathroom, and you make sure all his clothes are folded, and then you sort his pencil case, throwing out old pens and worn out erasers.

You leave a grocery list on the counter, and you tuck him in good under the blankets after you took his jeans and socks off so he could sleep comfortably.

You placed his vitamins and medicine by the refrigerator so he’ll see it when he goes to grab something to eat. 

Puffed up pillows, a pair of sweatpants, t-shirt and underwear is now placed neatly on his bed. Then you walk into the kitchen again, and you see Jungkook still sound asleep, sniffling a little still.

There’s one last thing, and it makes you cry. It makes you sob so loud you cover your mouth and muffle the sound you make. Sinking to the floor, your whole body is in contact with the cold tiles.

Only a year ago you could never imagine yourself even shedding a single tear over something as small as this, but here you were, on the edge of a panic attack.

Two worn out, matching couple mugs still placed by the counter. one if the first things you two had bought together, as well as the necklace hanging around your neck.

Finally, you stopped crying and started cleaning the mugs, lip trembling as you dried them and placed them in the back of the cabinet.

You unhooked your necklace and laid it down on the counter, and the biggest lump formed in your throat.

Actually, there’s a little detail you forget. 

You kiss Jungkook on the forehead and leave a note on the coffee table.

“Dear Jungkook,

If you want to make this up to me (this does not mean a new chance!!) you call the number at the bottom of the page. No matter what happens, I’ll always have room for you in my heart. You even have your own little VIP lobby in there. And - if it’s urgent, call. I still care for you, and I always have. You were the best boyfriend I’ve had, but good things always come to and end, don’t they? Anyways, I’m tired so this letter fucking sucks, but deep down you know how much I love you. Remember to get groceries, shower, get fresh air and study. If I forgot something you can keep it, as long as you call the number and tell them you’re my friend. They’ll help you love. Try and get a part time job too, your student loan and your dad’s money won’t last forever. Good luck Koo. Hwaiting!!

-L/N Y/N <33″

You cringe when you think of the letter’s contents, before you roll out your suitcase out of the front door, whispering a faint “Goodnight Love.” as you close and lock the door behind you.

Standing by the elevator, you cry again. This time, louder, but you still reach for your phone and type out a text to the newly edited contact in your phone.

You [02:13 am]

coming outside now, im a crying mess and im super cold, is your car heated?

sorry for making you wait btw :((

Joonie <3 [02:13 am]

dont worry about the crying part, i’ll hold you. and yeah car is heated, so waiting here wasnt all that bad. you ready for this?

You  [02:14 am]

i have no idea but i cant stay here any longer and i trust you sooo

lets start our new chapter. eh?

4 months later...

He had been good to you, great even.

You had been on expensive dates, picnics, had heart to heart conversations, and he’d been so understanding.

Today, it was your 2 month anniversary, and he had asked you on a magnificent date, which he had planned every second of.

At the end of the day, you told him how you don’t love him. He said it was alright. Namjoon loved you, so much, yet he understood you needed time.

You went to sleep that day, warm in Namjoon’s embrace, wondering how Jungkook was doing. 

You felt bad, but you missed Jungkook.

You were both with someone new now, and you knew he was in good hands with someone stable enough to care for him.

Before your eyes closed shut, you shed a few quiet tears and hoped that you’d fall in love with Namjoon soon, and deep down you knew you would.

[panicatthediaz]

40 (almost kiss) + 54 (secret relationship)? 🥰

Being in bed at 12:00 am will not stop me, I guess. Bonus Getting Together, I guess. Spent 3 or so hours at this. Ops.

Post S4. This is a disgusting amount of fluff. Unbeta'd (but self proof-read) as I wrote this from 12 am to 3:30 am.

On AO3

Years In The Making

Not that he believed it, but he was sure most people around him would say it was meant to be; something fated somewhere to happen somehow. Eddie didn't really believe that.

What he did believe was that they may have been too afraid (or maybe too repressed, in his case) to see what was going on, what had been growing for a long while. Years, maybe?

But getting shot (again) had given him a good shake, and he could say he'd been almost disappointed to see Ana by his bedside. No fault of her own, of course not, but...

He was pretty sure of what he wanted at that moment.

Breaking things off with her hadn't been that difficult, or painful, a couple of weeks after his return home. Ana's disappointment was clear, but she seemed to know as well as he did that they weren't going anywhere as a couple. With a promise to stay in touch, she walked out of his home one last time.

Now all he had to do was talk to Buck.

-

Buck had been cagey for the first few days when Eddie had asked him about Taylor. It took about a week and a couple of beers for him to blurt out, "She kissed me then ran out." He fidgeted for a couple of minutes. "Then she came back and we talked through it."

Eddie's heart sank, but he still put on a smile for the sake of his friend (if that was all that he would be for Buck, he'd make do). "And?"

"And we are at very different stages when it comes to romance." Buck shrugged, but the tiny frown was right there between his brows. "She became a good friend, but damn, we wouldn't have lasted as a couple."

Buck finished his beer and turned to Eddie, though not looking beyond the water bottle he was holding in his one good hand.

"She, uh... She isn't quite who I want." Buck cleared his throat, abruptly standing up and walking away from the dining table to place his empty bottle in the recyclable bin. "How is Ana, by the way?"

Eddie accepted the deflection well enough, watching as Buck stood by the doorway with his arms crossed, a stance that tried to project calm. Eddie doubted he was anywhere near it; he never enjoyed talking about failed relationships (including those that never took off).

"We broke up last week," he replied easily, standing up to refill his bottle in the kitchen. "Don't worry," he added, seeing the wide-eyed surprise (and dare he say, hope?) in Buck's expression. "It was pretty amicable and even. We both saw we weren't going to get anywhere and decided to split."

"Okay," Buck whispered, following him into the kitchen. "You okay?"

Eddie nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I'm fine." Though he had to ask... "Who is it?" Buck's confused, scrunched-up expression was pretty damn cute, making him look a little bit more like the Golden Retriever pup Hen and Chimney often compared him to. "You said Taylor isn't who you want, so who is it?"

"Eddie," he said on a groan, though he simply leaned against the counter instead of answering.

"See," Eddie spoke with a new bout of confidence (maybe just as ill-placed as the excitement he was starting to feel), standing against the sink across from Buck. "I'm kind of hoping for a specific answer here."

Buck didn't reply. Eddie had barely even noticed a shift in Buck's expression before he moved into his space, pressing a hard kiss against his lips, a huge contrast to how softly his hands cradled his head and how careful he was to not press against the sling and his injured shoulder.

Eddie wasn't sure if the bottle ended up on the sink or on the floor by their feet. What mattered was that he managed to get his hand on Buck's neck, drawing him even closer.

(Not that Buck let either of them press too close, and god, he loved him.

And he was distantly aware that he should be at least a little freaked out over the thought after one kiss - their first kiss - but, well... Years in the making and all that.)

-

One kiss became two, became many, and Eddie could see the same feelings reflected in Buck's blue eyes. Belonging, a finally and a home.

There was no need to go beyond kissing and cuddling, both of them content to sit even closer together, hands intertwined whenever they could.

It was... Soft in a way Eddie hadn't had in so long, intimate in ways he thought he wouldn't experience.

-

And they weren't subtle, weren't actively trying to keep anything a secret. Eddie was still off work, doing his PT as he should and Buck had been staying at his house (their home, he couldn't help but think every time) since Eddie got out of the hospital anyway.

But two months passed and the only two people aware of the change in their relationship were Christopher and Carla because they found them cuddled up on the couch, Eddie knocked out by painkillers and then too out of it to deny anything when his son questioned him about it.

(Christopher had simply nodded with a mumbled "Good" and left it at that. They still had no idea what that was about.)

The sling had come off a few days ago, though he still couldn't do that much, and it was driving Eddie up a wall. Buck was at the station, and he didn't want to think about the conniption he'd have if he drove there.

He knocked on Christopher's bedroom door, opening it slowly to see his son smiling at him from where he sat with his book.

"Hey, buddy." It was impossible not to smile back, feeling the all-encompassing warmth at the fact that he was still here, could see his son growing up for a while longer. "What do you say we pay a visit to the station?"

The frown he got for that was so much like Shannon's that he didn't know what to do with the pang in his chest. There was no guilt, not then, over the fact he missed her. He just did, she should be able to see how much their kid was growing, how much like her he could be sometimes. And maybe she was, if the afterlife turned out to be a thing after all.

"You are not supposed to drive."

And that tone was way too much like Buck's, just this morning, for Eddie to hold back his laughter.

"I was thinking we could take an Uber." He shrugged with his left shoulder. He might have been desperate to get out of the house, but he wasn't stupid; he didn't want pain and he didn't want to end up lectured by the entire team once he got there. "What do you say?"

Christopher considered it for a moment, then placed his bookmark and got up. "Let's go!"

-

"You better not have come in your car, Eddie!"

He rolled his eyes at the very much expected exclamation as Christopher giggled beside him.

"Don't worry, Buck," the kid said, walking ahead as Buck came downstairs. "I didn't let him drive."

"Thank God for you, kid," Buck said, kneeling on one knee to give Chris a hug. "Your dad is stubborn, he probably would have driven here if it weren't for you."

"Hey!" There was no real annoyance in his protest, but Eddie still said, "I get enough sass from my kid, don't you start, too."

Buck, in such a show of maturity, stuck out his tongue at him before turning to Christopher once again.

"Come on, buddy, let's go see the fun people."

Chris' laughter echoed in the station, and Eddie let the light atmosphere carry him upstairs to the loft where he was greeted by the rest of the team with hugs, and some friendly pats on (thankfully) his uninjured shoulder.

Chimney and Hen immediately walked with Christopher to the pinball machine, and Bobby had given him a plate of leftover breakfast to carry wherever he ended up sitting.

He chose the couch, where Buck had already made himself comfortable again and was currently watching the trio at the machine. They could hear Hen encouraging Chris to beat Chim's high score.

"Hey you," Buck greeted softly, an arm going around his shoulders as Eddie adjusted himself.

"Hey yourself." Buck glanced at the other side of the loft, then pressed a quick peck to his lips. Apparently, everyone was sufficiently distracted. "How are you?"

"So far so good." He took one of the biscuits from Eddie's plate, quickly popping it into his mouth as if Eddie hadn't sat here to share them. "I'd ask how your day is going, but it's obvious you're bored out of your mind."

Eddie groaned, letting his head fall back against Buck's arm. He was beyond bored, at this point, and no amount of movies or video games had helped. Buck's chuckle beside him was another pretty good incentive to get out of the house.

He turned his head to face him, his own expression undoubtedly soft as he took in the man that had been by his side for so long and for so many things already.

Buck's expression softened even more, somehow, his smile bright as the sun and even warmer. He leaned closer and-

And what sounded like a very undignified squeak interrupted their almost-kiss, causing Eddie to huff in mild annoyance and turn around.

Chimney stood by the dining table, gaping at them. Bobby was still in the kitchen and turned to look at them at the sound of Chimney's squeak.

"What's wrong, Chim?" Hen asked, frowning all the way from the pinball machine (where Christopher continued to play).

"They..." He gestured between the two of them. "Since when are you two together?!" He ignored Hen's own surprised exclamation. "They were about to kiss!"

"Yeah," Eddie confirmed, nonchalantly making himself comfortable in Buck's arms in the new position so he could look at the rest of their team. "And you had to ruin the mood."

Buck hid his face in his hair, and Eddie could hear the quiet snickering. They really thought the others would have caught up after two months of visiting Eddie at least once every few days.

"What about Ana?"

"We broke up two months ago, man."

"And Taylor?"

"Dude, we never started dating in the first place." The exasperation was clear in Buck's voice. "She's really just a friend."

Chimney nodded, satisfied for the time being. They had no doubt that there would be more questions later.

"When did this even happen?" Hen asked this time, walking over with Christopher.

"Two months ago," Chris answered before either of them could, smiling a little too innocently. "A week or something after Dad broke up with Miss Flores."

Eddie had no idea Christopher knew that level of details, but he had definitely been out of it when he told him. Maybe he said more than he remembered.

"Well," Bobby finally spoke up, walking over to their little family unit on the couch, now that Christopher was tucked on Eddie's other side. "I'm happy for you two." Eddie could feel whatever tension had been on Buck's body (not that there was much in the first place) drain out of him at Bobby's words. "And we can deal with HR and paperwork once you're back at the station," he added, directed at Eddie. Bobby's smile was genuinely warm, putting him even further at ease.

Years in the making. Maybe it was obvious to everyone else, but Eddie wouldn't change a thing about the road they took to get here. It had been hard and full of hurt, but what they had was solid and them and it was definitely worth it all.

Including the cheering, clapping, and whistles of everyone else when Buck pressed a kiss to his lips right there and then simply because he could.

[pndnj]

Cathartic- Yellow Metal Lyrics

Heres where I am with the lyrics, I referenced @25Goldenn on twitter for some of it that I couldn’t comprehend. 

*music*

0:23

Dark matter, like painted splatters, they fit better, the old saying, the way it goes, better the devil you do then you don’t know. I hit pedals and switch levers, my heart metal, I can't settle, im part trouble, they are not subtle. I fuck good so fuck cuddles, burst bubbles the thrist levels at new heights, i down doubles, and got baked til I felt high, my face puzzled, felt muddled, far strung and your floors woodent, the thought might but the fit wouldn’t. A fortnight

0:46 - 1:00

And I thought right, it’s all bark and no bite, I’m Tony Stark still embarking on a dream, took a bit of time to take darkness from the team. Seen what I saw. Heartless on the sleeve. Tried to burn my wings, so I put them in a piece on my chest , at peace no rest.

1:00-1:15

Flipped this on it’s head. Rip the script up now, flip it don’t pretend, slipping shit again, Fakers all around me, I’ve been living in pretense. Fake friends won’t make amends. There’s no need, these mean comments control the scenes. Attentionseekers, the spine is weakened

1:15-1:24

This family needs, what a family needs, and the planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving til we ascend so fuck the fence, and until they stop killing colour it’s fuck the feds.

1:22 - 1:44

You must be off it, I mean it, you know you ain’t never get with the judging and I used to dread growing my beard too long, never felt I belonged, but it's really long like a minute I ain’t looking to no mans for the limits, They’re feeling timid, I’m telling them who they mimic, why they don't look like a clinic …. Why they don't get no women, Still, we’re just fucking girls, Lost in the wrong world, Jurassic, now to this vermin

1:41-  1: 50

Kicking the game I’m serving, these losers are never learning, my fire is forever burning, adding it to my fuel, seems like I’m always focused on never becoming you, These locals that rob us feeling … was for a reason.

1:52-2:02

I’m seeing my new beginnings, watch out this loser’s winning, and no water is too deep to swim in Like I’m about to see a killing, I’m all the way that and living, flawless and feeling lawless, the prison now to the gimmicks, my vision is set to something,

2:03-:2:20

I’m watching you bitches plummet, no matches here for my cunning, you rappers are feeling done in, switching your genre, running and Running your jaw, stunting, pulling at straws, something  I think you’re a poor effort, deaf and tone deaf and I ain’t treat you separate. Living, I’m in my element, riding it like a … never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a benadryl. Keeping it green in general

2:20- 2:46

Think that you remain irrelevant. Look at yourself with reverence, hoping to always elevate. Celibate of these thoughts, killing themselves with sedatives. In comparison to eminem, you’re feeling feminine. Impolitically correct, still dropping on my dick. And I never gave a fuck about what they say abt my shit, I’ve been moving things in my mind like it’s this mountain dew Memories have made me wonder if one day I’m after you. What’s the purpose that you do, is what you're hoping that they learn, i’d like to say i’m done but it’s getting up on my nerves

2:46 -2:55

I’m looking at my life, saying what do I deserve. It’s hard to say I know when I’m walking through the dirt. Talking while you’re nothing I can see for what it’s worth. I’m tired of feeling hurt and I’ve tried enough but nothing works.

2:55-3:40

I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work. Chit chatting is the usual, talking to this clerk, i beg you don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt so everytime they see me, the oldest know to swerve. SWERVE Life is potent, bits of fucked shit… till they took notice weren’t  no hocus pocus, it was hard work that got me heard so i put in the graph like google maps but the whole earth

… around my door mat, taking over like the drones, rolling dirt up in miles like the water, and exploding like Annas hematoma. Don't need to see a slammer to know that I don't want to go man

I’m a showman. I’m just focused on the drama… like i’ve got my own insurance, show myself the pain, like i boxed it in the frame, if we’re about to talk greatness im great, the way you have to say my name like beyonce

“Say my name”

4:00-4:46

Just a bum with a cigarette, sun coming up, all my thoughts on the internet. Feeling deep, I’m just bored with the silhouette single sec,  get fucked up for the thrill of it . killer streak playing Pacman. Like I came from the Philippines vanilla bean still a thing for the thrill of scene,

Theres a beam, UFO, Leave it well alone  I aint moving, stood still on the peloton, telephone and its always on the dial tone,  it's been a while since i’ve smiled at a milestone, seen a big pile in my mind stone, me against the world on my Jack Jones, Like I’m John Jones, With pictures in the condo, far from John Doe, in the ___, like I'm Johnny Bravo, got pravado, with a small dick sitting in golados, feeling far gone, cuz that last hit was the good shit, was that stay lit

4:48-5:02

You can never take my shit come and get me. On the top floor,  cloud 9, fading, never bailing, felt amazing, inhaling, til my lungs two guns blazing. Overcome all the stunts that I pulled. A suit of just skin and then wool

5:02- 5:17

This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm ya. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here till they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80, and start moving like a ruler, ?damaged? Like a computer going fast, bars from the jeweler, bring the songs to the beach in hopes of finding tuna

5:18-5:36

…

5:36- 6:16

Grab a bat, lose my rag. Couple things got me mad, a couple people got me wrong and now I’m changing up the swag. Coming in and stealing it, I might take the whole bag. Feeling undefeated, I’m a beast with a reason, and imma lead the whole pack. Fearless like I’m Caesar, I’m just waiting for a chance to fill it up with diesel, and all I've been achieving is clocking miles in its region, moving like a legion.

Promise that I made to myself an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving, staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving.

I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy, it’s time I grew up,  a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on a mike.

6:16-6:32

I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane. The truth is on my medicine, can’t put that on your plate.

Speeding into everything, bout time I fixed the brakes. Don’t say I can’t communicate , you know I conversate with you in several different ways. And I know you know it’s references, looking at your face.

6:33- 6:53

Can’t justify mistakes, like every man that made them, seems I ain't  the one to blame. Lying to myself, only had so much to gain, so now I’m switching up the plate, see if that affects the place, im at on most days

I ain’t going with the usual so they looking at me strange. Confused, I can feel it all,  I’m here to make a change. It’s cold at 3am outside, I’m walking with the dog, thanking god that you don’t talk at all, my mind is switching off

6:54-7:12

Driving down to find myself, cuz I’ve been getting lost, lived this selfless life and found I can give a toss. Lessons that I’ve learned I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself.

So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt. Like burning toy soldiers that used to go up on the shelf. Recycle the ideas, conveying on the belt

7:14-7:29

.. circus, always hurting the way we felt? Embarrassed that we dreamt of bigger things and letting go of notions till we feel them in cement

Tired of only hoping, we feel broken men. Cuz the gravity is weight and has kept us to the ground, see the only people speaking with favors in their mouths

7:46-7:58

Got killer rhymes… no fillers, like godzilla, eating clouds cuz my smokes thicker, throat licker, my dope sicker, bringing people their hope like im the pope slicker,  i hope you’re getting the point cuz i walk quicker

I thought my city was shit bcs I want bigger like my zipper couldn’t zip up fed up with the…my love is fickle.. Residual age has a primitive face

I see demise for your limited ways, Left it to simmer, simmer away…a fake glimmer in the haze

8:09-8:11

Feeling trapped this industry is a cage

8:34-8:50

Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views, while they’ve been sat in their chairs, I’m feeling pressure to choose.

Standing here as one man, how can I do half when you’re half the person I am. If it wasn’t in your life, you didn’t choose it. It’s the funny thing about music. It’s the pain and beauty of it.

8:52-9:11

Don’t give a fuck what my suit is, it looks good so I wear it, better than the shoot that People’s wearing, changing the whole narrative for these basics and scarcity

Been facing the racists from back when i were a kiddie .born up in in 93’. been living in Bradford City..kicked me out of the schools, they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p*** still sitting in the classroom chilling, and i'm angry now that I’m older I see they treat us different

9:12-9:25

got me thinking I’m the problem cuz they never dealt with those issues.

20 years later I’m still in the same boat, tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for, man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil, when they got me by the throat

9:25-9:35

Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them

‘Boy your skin is so light’, ok motherfucker take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.

9:35-9:45

I don’t know how that’s acceptable, when life is more susceptible to perception, be the death of them. I’ve been looking at the sky saying where’s that day of reckoning, you had your prophets right when they say that you would speak to them.

9:45-9:55

I need justice in this life and I trust that it’s my fight, cuz when I’m writing it feels right to have them focused on the facts again. Focused on the rap again, hoping for the change, gunna put this on the map again

9:55-10:16

Writing in all caps again, the pain, it goes through me so I write the letter. All the shit that could have brought me but made me better.

I’m at home with a pain in my soul , yeh rap… cuz you know I was too real to contest it, my time was invested. Now I look at the industry, I see it infested, looking like kids who would write on nesquik.

10:17-10:29

My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.

I ain’t never gave a fuck about these jokers and jesters. Ain’t no answers for these things, so just save us the questions, man allowed of violence, cuz my silence is deafening, your opinion stinks, somebody get him a breath mint.

10:30- 10:42

Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening, I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine Now they all wanna hear me, got a table at letterman. Direction changed, like I changed up the lettering. Don’t believe the age ,bcs I move like a veteran.

10:42 - 10:47

Raised on the benefit for whose benefit, they’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.

…no words coming out when you open your mouth

And to be honest, it’s insulting, offensive to my wounds that have been salting. Tryna ask me questions that they know I never answer. I’d rather sit online and reply to the fan art

11:00-11:06

Fuck a sports car, coming through when i rapped

tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor

11:06- 11:17

Fake life, 'sup online, suck a fat one. You don’t wanna buy into that, none of that son. Sitting in the garden 98’ in the Datsun,  seen some hot summers but I still remember that sun.

*music*

11:51- 12:34

I make millions off of my pain, cause I know a few millions still living that way

Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause i hit the nerve. Only way that the sheep learn if the street firm, in my ways I don’t wanna change, everything just stay the same

Who you tryna convince you understand, cant maintain, let the lights dim some,  get the Chow Mein, flex, get the tape, right up at night

Why these men be nice to my face, be nice,  i ain’t tryna be a gangsta ruins my vibe

Rather be low-key and on my phone. Never need the trophy or the show piece

Never show peace in a North Face fleece. Show kids this like i wrote my flip

Cause the sign might fit till the start i’m sick

12:37-13:05

Now you see where I come from, the world don’t. Only achievement in this life is the Jordans. Committing petty crimes out of boredom, we can’t afford them. So I stole it, need a rolex

Go make sense, get yourself a job, It’s a poor man’s game tryna sit and pray to god, he ain’t sorting out your problems, gotta sort them out yourself

Used to tell us fables, now I’m writing them myself, Cause we raw like animals we all just need some help

Cathartic, I’m an artist, trying to put my heart in

Felt double crossed like Leo in Departed

13:05- 13:27

For the knowledge i’m not charging see I got it all free

But my hunger kept me starving like i’m feening for the feed

I just Need a reason to see me bleeding for my creed. Trick you with the words like I keep em up my sleeve. Picking where I fit, I see me sitting with the queen

I ain’t doing it unless you’re used to saying please

Let me flow a bit, before I sting 'em with the bees, They tryna kill us with disease

(Music)

13:34- 14:12

Why does it feel like they had the same notebook and the same four looks

Like the rain won't touch on their face, so sus when they lie don’t trust not a minor

Please no fuss, I just move through the game like must

Something in the way i adjust till i stick, Free falling like the ship, free fall till i bust

Remember 21 brother gave no fucks. Trying to project when they give them looks

In the projects, in the objects us

In my own way, never gave me love, shoulda never started this, broken hearted kid

Dried up the feeling till I stole the lid

Don’t wanna relish in the fame but I can’t resist

14:46-14:58

I like the way we feel, I like the way, I like the way

Ain’t no mistake, i am a being

I ain’t tryna be a leader, been selling out since Jesus

All my rhymes are for the readers, between the lines, like Father time, I fuck Mother Nature

14:58-15:40

That’s what they get, the connotations. Tell 'em I lived a life, and then I lived a life of adjacent? like its…. and played it patient.

Alone on my own spaceship, always tryna find greatness, still defying lines, but I’m fighting in my prime.

Shining light like Kylo while imma kill it all the time. Aging like I’m wine

Asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define. Focused on defiance, imma fight it while it’s life.

Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next, just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around til I’m the best

Speaking in full sentences, shoulda thought about a strategy before you went at the stratosphere about this… rings around Saturn, this ain’t a battle, I’m sat, I’m here

15:40-16:22

Catch me doing magic, hired and sounding tragic I think you could use practice and until that you get the blacklist and pull like a … actress? Fooling them like a catfish, schooling like a legend, happy to be the reference, fusing like iridescence, leaving them all guessing, leaking out of my brain like a pipe I aint fixing, shining like a star you can see it from a distance

Aint many of me around p*** I’m just different Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto, clean up like Im Dettol

I’m the man to put a bet on, sight smart like a weapon,  this is my kind of setting, i write the world I’m sat in, while these others live on hype, i see them fight in how they type, the fruit is ripe for the taking, i think i might

16:22-16:57

Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here

16:58- 17:47

Eccentric things are mentioned like a kid stuck in detention tryna escape im just spitting what is written on the next page, spitting image of my dad in his young days

Born sinner when i’m livid i say fucks sake

Don’t worry i’m too cunning with no plumbing, the waterworks, i sung something that resonates, i thought it first like giving birth to the parrot perch

They see me do it and they know it works

Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse

You’ll be nervous, you don’t deserve it we’ll scratch the surface ill leave a crater, lift the dirt up to find the hurting

Can’t know for certain nothing is guaranteed, tryna be a better person than the world deserves to see cuz i see a lot of sharks still swimming in the sea

Cease and arrest what’s the reason.. And these the kinda kids we bringing up next

Distorted reality, all they needed was family, too hard to face, to see what the damage is

17:47

*i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, *

18:04-18:38

Sometimes they ask the questions too deep to form a sentence, to disform, is this the norm, is this the sentence i feel defenseless i played the setlist, and all my sweat blood and tears, forgot to mention feeling lost, going off into different sections i feel like love wrecked it

If it’s not a drug why am i waiting for the next fix, affected, i cant believe that you left this

I guess I leave for the best wish, moving on like im fine for the lectures

We see it all from spectrums, cuz if we’re falling down we can fall down together

Staircase to heaven, mirror down the middle like 11, resentment on one side it won’t settle

18:38- 19:14

Mind fried but taking sense, they aint got a sense of themselves in the rich ends

Need to spell it out for them.. Made for them so witness

I know you feel afflicted but you always love it with me while im laughing at you, ya think you’re laughing with me

I try to (i love you) but im grown so they don’t fit me, my body thrown from the new to this old city so Im sick of sitting on my own, feeling so shitty, i’ve been on roads where its cold and the snow hitting

Its okay to be yourself, sit and talking to myself

I’ve been walking for the longest, just need a little rest, know i ain’t the strongest, I can feel it in my chest, talking about my feelings and of me, they get the best

19:14-19:59

They aint leaving, seeing breathing in my breath

Till death do us part is just seeded in my heart, like a work of art

Never winning,im just scared

Cant begin from the start, do i play a part in the rhythm of the night

I guess i’m onto something cuz the dark is feeling right

Every cloud got a lining, put my own miles  in, like moralis, figured that they’re jealous, that they could just never tell us to change because the weather never made me question whether or not i’m not that level

Got rid of all the bullshit sitting in my way, most of them are full of shit i see it every day

I do hearing the same things that i do, maybe that shits hitting like haiku

How much do you pay for them to hype you

Recycle your flaws but they aint like new, leaving and conceded and full of diesel like engines that need a cleaning, the ending will be revealing. Even though we ain’t raising the facts, now we been facing.

20:01-20:52

The cactus with spikes, needing spaces. Different faces, the same story. A full body like straight body direct to your system.

Could never tell 'em we missed’ em. Not even with the thoughts, we gift them. Cuz they just take advantage, guess we are caught in a system.

My soul pouring out details of borrowed time, had enough of a fill, this is for sorrow time. I’m seeing visions of Heaven, I seen the severed line, between the gospel they speak and when theyre telling lies.

Remember telling a friend of mine, you’d sent of mine, identified like a 3rd eye. Got a habit of knowing now where the dirt lies. So benign. I ain’t sober after 9, so I fuck their minds. Why you flipping out, see another

Try to rep it from the city, fuck a chiller crew, repping for the nittys, trying to keep us down, raised on the social, don’t want to let us out of the system. Me, I insist we assist them, me alone putting shifts til I lift them

20:53-21:12

I know it’s hard, that’s why I like it, I’m fit to fight it, I’m from the North, I’m backing Tyson, it’s been decided, don’t see no light. They needing guiding, just redefining, realizing, I’m realigning, in full finance, they stay silenced.

Can’t be louder, I’m juiced up with no powder. I fix shit like a slick spanner. Gone green like Bruce Banner. So free Gaza on my banner

21:12-21:51

The real McCoy, I ain’t nothing to toy with, signifying peace like a Japanese Koi Fish. How did this happen, we’re moving backwards in our timeline, killing us with cyanide, Right up for the freedom 'til we transform like Ironhide

This is bout my feelings, the way that I move affects the fate that I’m sealing. Can’t say nothing, with that something being on the page, kept inside the pen like the bars that have been kept caged. See I always had a plan, since I was young, we had nothing man

Now it’s been a few years since I ain’t seen the fam, on foreign lands. Bout to climb Everest in the avalanche. Right into the riddles as soon as you were born. Never asking the question cuz it’s the norm. See I’m in a questionin’ session

21:52-22:03

Like the manner got a method to teaching a lesson, listen to MF Doom, he taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten. Still we play cartoons so it’s never forgotten.

22:03-22:15

Chilling at the top but we came from the bottom. Writing and jottin for them life by, spotting the difference

*Dreams, was growing out of me, sun promising that tomorrow it will rise, time playing games with my mind, I swear it will pass us by

Train goes on the tracks, smoke, I’m tired to hide my thoughts, so blinded in flames, Don’t know where we’re going, I have no way of knowing, only see what’s in my head

Can’t we wait a minute, so we can savour this, It’s on my brain again, these days, It on my brain again these days”

23:10-23:46

They’re hating on Palestine ways, The oh no Palace playing Prince on the Steinway, Sending out mind waves, stop them like crimewaves, Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name

Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing

We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route, say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown

I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.. Done ain’t it, Shit just gets me vexed, and now I’m sitting that I think of it

23:45-23:59

Feeling on the brink of it, whatever it is, Figure out some shit at least it feels that way

talk about my feelings and I don’t feel so strange, finding solace, that’s a promise, in Metropolis but being honest, can’t write a sonnet, without some pain

24:00-24:40

Can’t fade away, away so we can savour this, been on my brain again these days

Can't find a way to be so you can savour this, been on my brain these days

Singing the song for another, singing a song for another

[officialwittek]

pt. 2

*gif is not mine* 

word count: 1,987 

“SAGE” a voice yells, my eyes shoot open and I fall out of the bed, David laughs loudly holding his vlog camera

“Fuck you” I groan, standing up I notice I was changed and all my makeup was taken off

“Wow I was so productive even while drunk, I even took my makeup off bitches” I say, collecting my things off the floor and plugging my phone into the charger

“Nah, it was Jeff. You passed out after taking shots with Zane and Ilya. So he carried you into Natalie’s room and took care of you before he left” David explained, tucking his camera under his arm

“Oh nice, where’s Natalie?” I ask, putting on some shorts and walking to the kitchen with David

“She went to get coffee for everyone” He says, I laugh quietly seeing all of our friends passed out on the floor or the couch

“I guess I’ll make breakfast. Then I’ll help clean after we eat” I say, David nods and follows me to the kitchen

I grab some eggs, bacon, and pancake mix and start making breakfast for everyone. I notice Jeff and Todd aren’t here and assume they went to work out so I make extra food just in case they come by after. I shoot Jeff a text and ask him but I just get left on read. Weird. I pout a little and David suddenly takes my phone.

“Why did Jeff leave you on read?” He asks, I shrug and David takes out his own phone and texts him and of course gets an immediate response

“Interesting, whatever. I ain’t tripping ‘bout no hoe” I say, spooning the scrambled eggs into a big bowl

After I finished making breakfast, Natalie walks in with the coffee, Todd helping her carry everything. Our friends wake up one by one and join us in the kitchen

“Sage, baby marry me” Zane says, I laugh and take everyones empty plates and put them in the dishwasher

“Baby.. you couldn’t pay me enough money” I reply, our group laughing even harder

I wash the dishes while Matt helps me put them away. He also offers to help me clean the rest of the house. I take the soiled couch blankets and throw them in the wash while Matt takes the trash out. I grab the empty beer cans, solo cups, and hard liquor bottles and take them to the recycling and trash. After about an hour we had David’s house looking as nice as possible. I say bye to David and Natalie before Matt and I head our separate ways for the afternoon.

I finally get home and take a shower. Cleaning David’s house had me in the mood to be productive and Carly was probably with Erin I open our curtains and play some music over the speakers. Quietly singing to myself I take my laundry and start separating the loads before throwing the first one in. I walk to the kitchen and start cleaning out our fridge. Expired foods, old take out, nasty old fruits and veggies. After that I compile a grocery list and send a quick text to Carly to see if she needs anything, she sends me a handful of items and tells me to let her know how much she should PayPal me. I wash the dishes and put everything in their respected cabinets. After a few hours of cleaning and washing laundry, I get dressed to run errands.

I choose some brown patchwork jeans, a white tank top, a chocolate brown oversized zip up jacket with my white Air Force ones. I throw my hair in a ponytail and text Jeff.

Sage: Hi bub, ik you left me on read, but do you want to run errands with me?

Jeff: nah i’m good.

I sigh in annoyance and shove my phone in my purse. I grab my keys and walk down to the parking lot. I get a text from Corinna and Natalie asking if they can tag along with me since they’re bored and I agree, the three of us meeting at David’s house. After they pile into my Honda Civic and we go to the grocery store.

“So.. what’s got you all annoyed?” Corinna asks, I realize my eyebrows have been furrowed the whole time

“Jeff keeps leaving me on read or he’s being dry. Even at breakfast he didn’t even acknowledge me. I mean what the fuck. I would never ever do that to him. The fuck is his problem” I whine, grabbing a carton of oat milk

“Well you did kiss him last night and you haven’t said anything” Nat points out, my eyes widen and my jaws go slack, the two girls giggle at my expression  

“I k-kissed him? I mean shit go me, but now I feel like an asshole” I ask, turning to them and I sigh

“I’m never drinking again” I reply, making them laugh. After a bit more shopping we all go to pay for our stuff.

We stop by my apartment and they help me put the groceries away. We all go back to Dave’s house and hang out for a bit. I start editing some pictures I took for my instagram. While editing Todd, Jeff, Zane, Carly, and Erin walk in. They all come up to me and give me a hug, well except a certain someone. I’ll admit I feel like an asshole about not saying anything but I didn’t know it pissed him off that much. I text and ask if we can talk in the studio and he leaves me on read right in front of my eyes.

I roll my eyes and just sit at the kitchen island alone. Mindlessly scrolling through my phone as I hear some people approaching me. I turn and see Mariah, Carly, and Erin. They immediately knew something was up, my eyebrows were furrowed so we walk outside to my car.

“It’s fucking Jeff. So Nat and Corinna told me what happened last night and I obviously felt bad. So I texted Jeff about five minutes and asked him if we could talk in the podcast studio for a bit and he left me on read. He probably hates me now. He’s been ignoring me all day” I cry, Mariah rubs my shoulder to help console me

“I’m not going out with you guys tonight. I think I’m just going to stay home” I say, the three of them nod

“Well then all the girls are coming over tonight. I hate seeing princess peach being sad” Mariah says, princess peach is her nickname for me since I love anything to do with peaches and everyone treats me like a princess since I’m the youngest member

“Finee, bring wine and I’ll make pasta” I say, finally letting a small smile appear as we head back to the house

“Where the fuck did you guys go?” Heath asks, wrapping his arms around Mariah as I pretend to throw up

“We went to make out real quick” I retort, walking over to collect my things

“Nat, Corinna let’s go babes” I call, they excitedly grab their things and we hop in Nat’s Mercedes

“Oh c’mon guys” Todd says, but Carly promptly stops the rest from coming

“No we’re having a girl’s night. Sage isn’t feeling well, no boys allowed. Especially Jeff” she says, mumbling the last part so only the girls could hear and we let out giggles

“Fuck men” I yell, closing Nat’s door as we head to my place with Carly

Nat drops us off while her, Mariah, and Corinna get some alcohol. I grab the ingredients from the pantry and fridge. I decide to make a simple pasta with garlic, cherry tomatoes and basil. While I was cooking the other girls come back and we all gather in the kitchen. Talking about everything and anything, Nat starts snapping pictures on a disposable camera. After a few minutes the food was ready and we all gathered in our living room to watch some movies. After some bickering we all decide on Always Be My Maybe.

“T-that was so good” I cry, heavy tears streaming down my face, I look and see them all with tears in their eyes

“I hate being single” I whine, grabbing a pillow and crying into it and the others start laughing at me

“Sure sure” Corinna says, taking all of our plates to the sink. After countless bottles of wine we started dipping into the vodka. Natalie decides to stay sober for tonight  since she’ll probably have to take everyone else home

“Wait hold on David’s calling” Natalie says, I turn the music down and sit there nursing my vodka bottle and another bottle of sparkling pink lemonade

“Yea I’m not sure Sage is in any shape to go anywhere” She comments with a laugh, watching Corinna take the bottle and pour more vodka in my mouth

“Uhm I don’t know, let me talk to her” Nat says, her smile falling as she covers the mic with her hand

“Is it cool if the boys come here? They’re tired of staying at David’s and he needs drunk Sage content” She asks, I look at the rest of the girls and sigh

“I guess” I reply, Natalie purses her lips before replying

“No, we said it was girl’s night. You can get drunk Sage content any day of the week” She says, soon there’s some jiggling by our door as Natalie and Carly quickly run to the door and lock the door with the latch above the handle

“David get the fuck out of here” Natalie yells, stopping them from kicking our door down

“It’s ok I guess, just let them in” I reply, getting off the floor and unlocking it, quickly  walking to my balcony and Erin locks the door behind me, knowing I should have some alone time

I play some music on my phone and just sip the vodka in my hand. I take a hit from my puff bar, just enjoying the cool breeze on my skin. I let some tears fall down, thoughts invade my head. Maybe Jeff is just over how clingy I am? Is he tired of being friends with me? I sigh and sink deeper into my chair. I jump when I hear a knock, I quickly wipe the tears off my face and turn. I’m greeted by that dumb face and nod.

“Hey” I said, taking a hit of my puff, watching the vapor disappear as Jeff take a seat next to me

“Hi..” he replies softly, I can feel him burning holes in the side of my head

“Carly said I should probably come talk to you” he continued, I roll my eyes and collect my things

“Thing is, I don’t really want to talk to you anymore ok? This is me, leaving your dumbass on read in real life” I slur, putting my phone in my pants as I reach the door he grabs my wrist

“Please, I know you’re mad and I don’t really know why” Jeff replies, I scoff and set my things back down

“You ignore me all day, LEAVE ME ON READ WHILE I’M TEN FUCKING FEET BEHIND YOU, over a fucking drunk kiss for the vlog. Why would I be mad? You asshole” I yell, finally getting someone to open the door and I storm back in, sitting in the kitchen with the girls

“I DOn’T ReaLlY kNoW WhY You’Re MAd. The fucking NERVE of him” I rant, Nat pats my back as the girls and I talk on the kitchen floor

After another hour everyone leaves and I get ready for bed. Sure, I could’ve actually talked to him and I really was until he asked why I’m mad. I mean what the fuck? Whatever, I set my alarm and slip off into a peaceful sleep.

[joonkorre]

its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared. 

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been. 

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up. 

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind. 

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two). 

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.

[thetypedwriter]

Midnight Sun Book Review

Midnight Sun Book Review by Stephenie Meyer 

Oh my god, you guys. 

Just. Oh. My. God. 

This book took ten years off of my life. 

As a heavy reminder, these book reviews are entirely subjective and my very personal opinion. I don’t need the hoards of Twihards coming after me with pitchforks and pretend fangs from Party City because I didn’t fall head-over-heels with this canon spinoff like my fourteen-year-old self would have. 

With that measly disclaimer out of the way, let’s move onto the actual book review. If you haven’t heard of Midnight Sun or don’t know what it is, then I don’t know what to tell you except that you avoided 600 plus pages of stream of conscious ranting. 

For those of you that would like to be enlightened, Midnight Sun is the retelling of the infamous Twilight book-yes, that Twilight, Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen Twilight, complete with vampires, not so-stellar acting, and the more than notorious forest scene of Edward demanding she say… “vampire!” Gasp. 

But no really, like most women in my now mid-20’s, as a teenager, I was obsessed with the Twilight saga and everything it had to offer, especially the dreamy, chivalrous, too good to be true Edward Cullen (fuck Jacob). 

I voraciously devoured the books while I was in middle school, attended the midnight book premier for Breaking Dawn, and stayed up way too late for each and every movie screening that followed, a loyal fan to the end. To give you some perspective, I even joined the Twilight club my freshman year of high school. 

Yes, if you were wondering, I was indeed that cool. 

I was obsessed and in love and outside of Harry Potter, it’s still one of the few book fandoms and series that I was truly enveloped and consumed by. Whether that was due to my age, the experience of the fandom, the cultural phenomena that was following the movies and new releases, or for other reasons, it was an experience I look back on now with simultaneous fondness and slight embarrassment. 

I wasn’t embarrassed by my involvement or my experience in the fandom, like many other people, I made great friends through Twilight (including my best friend, whom I met in college when we mutually bonded over our love of Twilight), read countless fanfiction that, to this day, I still remember and cherish with my heart, and it was one of the series that cemented my love of reading and book culture as a whole for me. 

However, like everyone else, I inevitably grew up, matured, and my reading tastes changed and became more refined. As an avid re-reader of books, I have tried going back to re-read the Twilight saga multiple times... 

...and failed. 

The books had simply lost their magic for me. 

The story seemed dull and nonsensical, Bella had become the epitome of a Mary Sue, the writing was now apparently mediocre, and Breaking Dawn’s lackluster climax angered me to the point of speechlessness (it still does). 

So, I gave up re-reading the series and while I deemed that it was perhaps not as wonderful and life-changing as it had been for 8th grade Melissa, I still appreciated what it had done for me personally and the experiences that I had gained through the books. 

Speaking of 8th grade Melissa, the original Midnight Sun, that being twelve chapters of the original manuscript that had been leaked back in 2008, had been put up on Stephenie Meyer’s website for all to enjoy. 

Like the good, whipped fangirl I was, I devoured all 12 chapters with ease and lamented the loss of never getting more than that snapshot of Edward’s thoughts and musings. 

Now, twelve years later, the full book has been written, published, and released to the delight and downright shock to many age-old Twilight fans that had believed that series to be dead and buried, myself included. 

So, when the book came out this August, I swallowed my trepidation, knowing that my love for the characters was now long gone, but I believed that the sentimentality of 8th grade Melissa’s obsession would long linger, making this a pleasant blast from the past to lift my mood. 

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case. 

Now, that I’ve told you my whole life story in an effort to explain why I have the feelings I do and to justify that I’m not just being negative for the sake of being negative, this book did not hold up to any of my expectations. 

One, it was so freaking long. 

Holy shit, was this book long. 

As I have said countless times on this blog, I like big books (and I cannot lie). It’s the best feeling in the world when you get into a story and you realize that you have many days ahead of you of being engulfed within this new world that you’ve fallen head-over-heels for. 

It’s the opposite, sinking feeling of dread when you feel like you’ve been reading the book for weeks and are getting nothing out of it. 

Midnight Sun was a lot like that.

It was too long to be good, especially considering the length was not generally driven by plot, but instead driven by Edward thinking of every fucking thing to the nth degree and driving me crazy in the process. 

Homeboy needs to take a chill pill, he overstresses, overthinks, and overanalyzes everything to the point of irritation as a reader. 

Meyer’s editor really needed to step in and say, “Hey, Stephenie...is all of this really necessary?” and then proceed to cut out at least 300 pages of nonsense. 

But that didn’t happen, probably because first and foremost, the book was already going to sell no matter what changes or edits were made, and this seemed like a book more for Stephenie than anyone else. 

It was very much stream of consciousness like I’ve already said, a style of writing defined as a literary style in which a character's thoughts, feelings, and reactions are depicted in a continuous flow uninterrupted by objective description or conventional dialogue. 

It wasn’t on the level of James Joyce’s Ulysses or other notable works, but damn was it close. 

This writing style I found abhorrently repetitive and exceptionally dull. 

Perhaps my fourteen-year-old self would have felt differently and would have sucked up anything about Edward Cullen eagerly considering he was the fictional love of my life. 

Or perhaps this book would have made me go running and screaming in the opposite direction as Edward is...kind of awful?

One positive thing I can say about this book is that it paints Bella Swan in a very rosy light, which was actually very refreshing. One of the most famous criticisms that Meyer’s has received is Bella’s lack of character, development, and attributes. 

Seeing Bella from Edward’s perspective instead of vice-versa actually showed how kind, thoughtful, and selfless she is, all things that I had never really picked up on before. 

I still find her inexcusably dumb sometimes, but much of time during this book, Bella was actually far favorable to Edward or any other character, a blasphemous statement of irony if I had ever heard one. 

The payoff, however, is Edward’s reveal as not chivalrous, not gentlemanly, and not as wonderful as I remember. He’s arrogant, selfish, obsessive, and honestly? Downright creepy. 

The stalking reaches new levels of not okay, often with him trying to justify his less than criminal activities with the notion of her “safety” as the priority, which I found complete bullshit. 

I found Edward domineering, cold, aggravating, and lackluster, statements which would literally have made my old self sob, which I honestly did when Edward left in New Moon. 

I used to be an avid Jacob hater and lover of Edward to the extreme back in the day. Now, I would weep for joy if he left, root for Jacob all the way, and hope that the horrible name of Renesmee never needed to come to fruition in the first place. 

Oh, how the turns have tabled. 

Other than the atrocious length, my other large criticism came in the form of well...the book was naturally boring in my opinion. Meyer tries to create tension and moments of suspense, but...we already know what happens. 

We know the next few years actually. We know they get married, have a baby, and Bella gets turned into a vampire. So all moments of tension and suspense are unceremoniously tossed out the window. 

You might say, typedwriter, that’s unfair! We didn’t read this for the tension and suspenseful plot that we already know! We read this to get new information and insight into the Cullens and Edward especially. What do the Cullens do at home? How do they interact? What does this juicy insider insight look like?

Well, I still don’t know because we hardly saw any of it. 

I was the most curious about the Cullens as a family unit and more information into how they functioned, interacted, and cohabited. I even wrote a fanfiction back in the day about what freaking Esme did home alone because I was so intrigued by the idea, but nope! 

Edward was always stalking Bella 24/7 so almost no new information was gleaned about the Cullens, sucks for you. 

There would be little nuggets here and there, little bouts of cool information (Apparently Esme just stays home all day every day doing….nothing?), but not nearly enough to justify a 600+ page book of a recycled plot that we were already familiar with. 

I needed more from this book, craved all the little moments in between, and it was a letdown to the most extreme proportions. 

Recommendation: I didn’t really enjoy this read despite my past involvement with the series, my lingering fondness for the movies on a cold, rainy day, and the still sporadic delves into Twilight fanfiction that maintains its reputation of quality and characters. 

Twilight will always have a special place in my heart for what it did for me and the people it brought into my life, but I wish I had remembered Midnight Sun as the 12 chapters I read on Stephenie Meyer’s website when I was fourteen and infatuated instead of 26 and uninterested and unforgiving. 

Score: 4/10

[alolowrites]

Late Night Visitor

Summary: A mysterious stranger visits your balcony and accidentally leaves behind a priceless jewelry that they stole from a museum.   

Author’s Note: I’m pleased to share the next story for @bnhabookclub​ Hero Camp Bingo event. The prompt I used was “Crime AU” It took a while getting this done because of work stress and having slight writer’s block (plus I kept changing the story’s direction). But really, it was because of how stressed/tired I’ve been the past few weeks. So, really sorry if it took forever posting another story.

It’s also my first time writing for Hawks, so hopefully I did him justice! He was the first character that popped up when working with this prompt. Please enjoy!!

Word Count: 2.3K+

“Ah! Hot, hot!”

Well, isn’t this just great? Nothing like accidentally burning your tongue during dinner to remind yourself how impatient you are—damn hunger. One hand flails to cool down your mouth. Steam dances above the hearty bowl of curry rice, the sweet smell of caramelized onions greeting your nose with a soft kiss. Bless the local 7-11 markets for selling quick and easy meals.

You sit criss-cross applesauce on the fluffy gray rug and scroll through social media for the millionth time. It’s been a slow weekend as yesterday’s news is recycled for today’s news. A random show plays on the television, but you don’t pay attention to the white noise. All your focus is on the phone, yet you still reach for another bite from your meal. How the rug stays clean during dinner nights at home is a complete mystery.  

Sipping on your drink, you spare a glance at the balcony and do a double-take—a stranger is crouching outside. You choke, “Oh shit!”

Without thinking, you scurry behind the gray couch, not caring if the rug becomes messy. Your pounding heart is like a concert bass drum which echoes around the small apartment. The sound drowns out the show’s mindlessly chatter. Frightened eyes peek around the corner, and you whip back in full regret.

The person is still outside. Their back is facing toward the balcony door, and they are wearing a form-fitting black hoodie. Hands search for your phone, but they come up empty. Panic finally settles in when you realize it’s on the coffee table. Great, you moan as your head softly hits against the furniture—is the door even locked?

You’re faced with a dilemma: Do you stay out of sight until the stranger leaves or risk being seen while getting help? After much deliberation, you swallow a hard pill and growl at the ceiling, “If I’m doing this, I better not die!”

You’re like a soldier crawling through the mud with a drill sergeant yelling down your neck. You snatch the phone off the table, but make the mistake of looking up at the sliding door. Everything comes to a screeching halt as curious gold eyes stare into your timid ones. The mysterious visitor becomes more intimidating thanks to the balaclava mask—it covers the lower half of their face.

The intense staring contest last for an eternity. You nearly rip off the loose strands on your rug when the stranger approaches closer; they stop when you back away. Taking pity on you, they jump over the balcony and disappear into the quiet night.

A sense of relief washes over you.

Who knows what could have happened to you? Maybe your mom was right about learning some self-defense; the pepper spray is not enough. As you stand and dust off your pants, a shiny light catches your attention; it’s coming from outside. You go against your better judgment and tiptoe toward the balcony.

Your jaw immediately falls to the floor when you spot an exquisite ruby pendant. A sparkling round diamond sits above the bright red gemstone, a slight tint of purple hue lurking underneath. Even the platinum metal chain carries an air of luxury. It’s as if the gods carefully hand-crafted this entire jewelry themselves. In short, it is simple but elegant.

Sliding the door, you wonder if this is some kind of trap. After checking your surroundings, you swiftly pick up the accessory and snort, “Thank you for making me feel poor.”

Fingers glide along the gemstone’s perfect curves as you gaze at the sleeping neighborhood. Your mind goes wild: Who was the person with those haunting golden eyes? Why did they come to your balcony? And why in the world did they leave behind a beautiful masterpiece?

You have so many questions but very few answers.  

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“So, you didn’t call the police?”

“Um…no…?”

“And why not?”

“It was a mixture of being both scared and stupid.”

“Oh my—” Fuyumi pinches the bridge of her nose. You twiddle your fingers like a guilty child and sink further into the booth. Fuyumi had her suspicions when you texted her to meet up at the usual coffee shop near your apartment. It’s your go-to place whenever you’ve done something questionable, which is ninety-nine percent of the time. Plus, the café whips up the perfect batch of castella—her favorite pastry.  

Customers stroll in and out of the coffee shop as piano music plays softly in the background. Roasted coffee beans linger in the air, tempting your nose with its delicious aroma. Out of habit, you push the castella closer to Fuyumi as if that would help soften the blow. She exhales, “Next time, please call the police.”

“Yes, mother,” you mumble much to Fuyumi’s displeasure, but she lets it slide. With the worst over, you bounce straight up and tap the table with an air of excitement. “Oh! Here’s the best part though, besides surviving a break-in—”

“The person was outside your balcony.”

“—close enough, but not really the point, okay?” Fuyumi rolls her eyes, and you fish out your phone to show her a picture. She takes a closer look as you ramble off. “Anyway, my late-night visitor left behind this gorgeous pendant! Why they were carrying this around is beyond me, and so carelessly too. I’m no jeweler, but I’m pretty sure those stones are worth a fortune—still beautiful, though.”

“Yeah, and stolen!” The white-haired teacher hisses. You blink, wholly baffled at her extreme reaction. Fuyumi whips out her iPhone with two fingers flying above the screen. She shoves it toward you, your eyes skimming through the article. The news delivers a sharp slap across your face as the realization sinks in.

Oh no…

Fuyumi bites her lip, “It’s The Grand Droplet, a priceless heirloom rumored to offer infinite life and prosperity. Police are saying the notorious thief, Hawks, stole the pendant last night from the Yutaka Jewelry Museum.” A few seconds later, she adds, “You have the pendant—”

“Shhhhhh!” A hand attacks her arm, your panicked eyes wandering around the coffee shop as if your cover got blown. No one turns their heads, but you shoot an annoyed glare at Fuyumi. “Why don’t you say it louder? I don’t think the barista heard you!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just,” she grips the table’s edge and leans closer, “This is serious! You have to bring the pendant to the authorities. See, this is exactly why you should have called the police last night! The longer you wait, the more guilty you look. Maybe you’ll even become an accomplice to the crime.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Sorry…”

You dramatically groan into your hands, “Why did this happen to me?! When I said I wanted to live like Larry, I didn’t mean this!”

“I know,” Fuyumi pats your head and sneaks a bite of her delicious treat; her phone chimes beside you. She checks the message before flashing an apologetic stare. “Listen, I have to take care of something with my family, but I hate to leave you like this.”

“No, it’s okay. I can handle this myself,” you pathetically convince her. “I’m sure nothing bad will happen, knock on wood—”

“The table is metal.”

“I said what I said!” Your fist aggressively pounds the table, scaring off some customers. A mother hastily pushes her child away from the chaotic scene. You calm down and sigh, “I promise to call you if I’m in danger, okay?”

“Okay.”

You nod before whispering, “Sorry, table.”

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

The walk back home is anything but relaxing. You are on high alert, throwing suspicious glances at anyone coming too close to you. They could be undercover cops waiting to ambush you and interrogate your poor soul for hours until the necklace reappears.

But I didn’t do anything! I’m a good noodle!

You sigh as the key unlocks the door, your shoes flying off by the entrance. Fortunately, you hid the pendant in a safe place. All you want to do is get rid of this jewelry; it brings nothing but trouble.

Marching down the hallway, you grumble under your breath, “Stupid Hawks, and his stupid stealing habits.”

Everyone knows about the infamous Hawks. He strikes when one least expects him to, and somehow successfully evades capture after every heist. But Hawks always leaves behind his signature red feather as a little present for authorities—it never fails to rile them up. Hopefully, the cops show some mercy when you explain what happened. Maybe you should work on your puppy dog look before heading downtown, which might help you score a few sympathy points.

You find the burgundy jewelry box sitting on the closet’s top shelf and breathe a sigh of relief—the pendant is still inside. Not wasting precious time, you close the lid and exit your room. A soft click makes you freeze.

Standing by the balcony door is Hawks, who wears a black jacket with a white shirt underneath. His ashy blonde hair is lazily slicked back, a few strands sticking here and there like no tomorrow. Surprisingly, he lowers the balaclava mask and flashes a boyish grin, “‘Bout time you came home! I was getting bored out there.”

“How did you—wait, never mind. You break into high-security places to steal things for a living,” you say, shifting the jewelry box onto your right grip. “Listen, as much as I would like to stay and chit-chat, my day is fully booked. Can’t really cancel on these people, ya know?” You slowly tiptoe backward, an awkward laugh ringing through the air. “Let’s do a rain check; I’m free next week. Okay? Okay! See ya—“

“Hold it!” You halt on his order, a curse slipping out your mouth. Hawks strides across the floor, and you clutch the box closer to your chest. You feel as though your feet are glued to the ground, the nerves growing stronger once Hawks stands only a few feet away. He crosses his arms and nods at the box, “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing special, really.”

“Can I take a look?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Um, because I don’t want to, that’s why,” you childishly snap and send him a dismissive wave. “Now, shoo! You’re wasting my precious time.”

Hawks chuckles at your feisty attitude. He finds this whole ordeal extremely amusing. You know who he is, you know of his reputation just like everyone else in Japan. And yet, you keep on swinging like a boxer with your witty responses. Still, he has a job to finish. “I’m not leaving until you give me that pendant.”  

“Well, I hope you’re paying for half the rent because there’s no way in hell I’m giving it to you, Mr. Thief.” Two seconds later, you add, “Besides, it’s not even yours!”

“It’s not yours either.”

“Oh!” You give him a fake laugh, pointing one finger at your chest. “So the thief is criticizing me for having something that’s not mine? How rich.”

“You’re lucky I find you cute, but,” Hawks dangerously invades your personal space without giving you a chance to stop him. From far away, he doesn’t appear tall. However, Hawks somehow towers over you, which makes you involuntarily squeak. A wicked glint shines through his golden eyes as he studies your unique facial features. You suddenly forget to breathe when his eyes glance at your lips—damn him.

Hawks plucks the box from your loose grip. The hypnotic spell comes crashing down, and you loudly snarl, “Hey! Give it back!”

“Sorry, Dove,” Hawks keeps you at arm’s length, his gloved hand giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he smirks, “I got a buyer who’s willing to pay a hefty price for this beauty. Of course, you are way more stunning, but he doesn’t need to know that.”

“Quit charming me!” You’re a blushing mess now and throw a pillow at him; he easily dodges it much to your dismay. Hawks’ cackles bounce off the wall, which makes you scowl. His fingers slide the balcony door open, and he tastes sweet freedom.

“Farewell, Dove!”

You have a deja vu moment when Hawks jumps over the edge. Your legs rush outside, and eyes frantically search the streets, but it’s no use—the thief is long gone. One hand slaps your forehead as you stupidly let him get away with the jewel. Feeling like a deflated balloon, you whip out your phone and make a quick call.

“Fuyumi…yeah, the pendant got stolen again.”

Stupid thief.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

You collapse on the couch with as much grace as an inexperienced dancer who steps on people’s toes. Work left you exhausted, but you’re glad it’s almost the weekend. You’ll definitely sleep in and have a lazy day on Sunday. It’s what you deserve after meeting tight deadlines and also talking to the police about Hawks.

Fortunately, they do not blame you for anything, much to your relief. It’s been about a week since Hawks broke into your apartment to steal back the Grand Droplet. Police have no luck locating him; they believe the thief is lying low until it’s safe enough for him to strike again. Where exactly is anyone’s guess.

A knock disrupts your thoughts.

It comes from the balcony, and you jump to your feet. No one is outside, although a flash of red catches your eye. Lo and behold, it’s Hawks’ signature feather with a small note attached. Oh, how lovely, you think before snatching the gift off the floor. Your pet name is affectionately written across the paper. You hate yourself for finding Hawks’ calligraphy impressive, but proceed to read the note.

Sorry for cutting our convo short—had a deal to close. No hard feelings, though, right? If anything, I’ll make it up to you, Dove. Besides, you still owe me that rain check.

See ya soon!

-H

You don’t bother biting back your smile.

Guess you’ll be seeing Fuyumi at the coffee shop again.

Fourth prompt is crossed off. Which one will be next? Stay tune! Thank you for reading! 

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