#there's a lot more to understand when you look past the walrus shit

[h0wi1e]

Apologies for this long ass rant but I need to say this.

Am I the only one that's surprised by the amount of hate Allison and Teddy get as characters? I didn't mind their side plot of trying to find Wallace, although Guy Lapointe just made it longer than it should've been by talking but what a lot of people hate them for us the ending which I want to talk about.

Allison and Teddy weren't the ones that put Wallace in the zoo and I'll fucking die on that hill. Just because they're the two characters we see visiting Wallace doesn't mean they were the ones that put them there. For starters, they are civilians and aren't related to Wallace or are his guardians so they have little to no say on what happens to Wallace. And as his Ex girlfriend and best friend I just don't see them being the ones to make that decision, they'd try and push to get Wallace the surgery and rehabilitation he needs. A perfect example I will use is the fanfic 'The Water is Wide" on Ao3 where we get a chapter in the POV of Allison after they find Wallace, the police and ambulances come but later she sees a zoo ambulance drive up because Wallace is manic and needs to be restrained. Seeing the van Allison is Pissed and starts arguing with a police officer. That would've been her exact reaction to Wallace being put in a shitty little zoo exhibit, however in that fic Wallace is taken out of the suit and placed in a mental hospital but my reason still stands.

Both of them would definitely have a lot of guilt that Wallace was put in an enclosure, if Teddy had picked up his call they could've rescued him sooner. But despite all the guilt they have they don't run away, they still come to visit Wallace anyway, it is obvious that being there hurts mostly of Allison (since we see them leaving pretty early) but they still confronted Wallace and told him that they did still love him despite his appearance since Teddy says this.

"You don't have to hide from us, Wallace."

I could just never understand why people were very quick to blame Ally and Teddy, I see a lot of people saying that they just dump him there and ride off into the sunset but what else were they supposed to do? They couldn't do anything about the situation and that's what hurts, they can only sit there and watch Wallace rot away in that shithole. Personally for me I believe it was the authorities, we aren't given a real reason as to why he's in a zoo enclosure other than being because he looks like a mockery of an animal but the decision to put Wallace in such a place like that just feels like it was made by the higher ups.

So yes I'm defending Allison and Teddy, I'm not saying they're entirely innocent though, they're good people that have just done bad things (cheating together) but I just don't see them being the kind of friends to ditch Wallace and run, the fact that they stick around and visit is enough to show that they care.

Idk thank you.

[stray-kids-react]

Polaroid

Han x Fem. Reader Soulmate au

Warnings - Swearing, mentions of sex, and Fluff that'll make you cry.

Masterlist

...

Y/n's pov, November 27 2020

My mother once told me that I will know when I'm in love, she never specified what hints will cross my path... She just said I'll know.

As a young adult now, sharing an apartment with my close friend Yeji. I'm starting to become impatient with this whole game of love, why can't I just get told who is my perfect match. I'm so tired of having my hopes risen up and then crashed down onto my heart... Breaking it each time.

"Any plans today?" Yeji asked from the kitchen, making me cringe at the word plans.

I just was still recovering from a terrible break up, where I caught the supposedly love of my life slurping the life out of his assistants pussy. I won't forget the feeling of my heart completely stopping for a few seconds, as my mind told me to run and not look back.

"Yes actually, I have a date with Netflix and the leftovers in the fridge." I replied, slyly smirking as she stared at me like a worried mother.

"Well Netflix isn't going to have to wait for his turn. Because I have this guy who is really interested you and is a total sweetheart." She sighed, showing me a photo of the guy she was trying to set me up with.

"Yeah... No." I replied, beginning to retreat back to my room.

"Y/n! JISUNG TOLD ME!" Yeji announced, catching my attention from the front of my bedroom door.

"I-it's still a no Yeji." I whimpered, shutting the door harshly behind me as she sighed in defeat.

Yeji's pov

She needs to get out of this place, it's been two weeks now. All over a guy she barely even knew, I know the true reason she is hiding and she will never admit it.

Y/n is scared to see his face again, our best friend Han Jisung. The best friend that she happened to fall in love with, and moved away from after she got accepted into the university of her dreams.

They were never just best friends in anyone's eyes, not even there own. Yet they both tried to fill in the whole in their heart with other people, never realizing that all they had to do was just say three difficult words.

Y/n was in a hurry to find her perfect partner after I found mine, the man next door with the matching tattoo on his wrist. Your tattoo shows up when you are over the age of 19 and are near your soulmate, it shows up on your wrist, neck, or shoulder blade.

She didn't want to see Jisung in case that tattoo never came, they both wouldn't be able to handle the realization. But it is a part of life, and I'm not going to let my best friends live alone when they could have a chance to be in love and happy.

Han wanted to see us both while he was visiting the city, even though he knew the risk of utter devastation. That fake profile was just a set up so that she would finally meet up with Han, and she probably already knew about my plans.

I walked up to her door cautiously, gently brushing my knuckles against her door.

"Y/n... I know why you are actually upset."

Y/n pov

"Because of Han Jisung." I answered, brushing past the old childhood photos saved on my phone.

"I know that's what you were going to say Yeji, and you're right. I know I won't be able to take it if the guy I love isn't the one for me, and that all of those nights alone with him that are coded into my brain are worthless. I'm scared Yeji, I'm scared that I won't be able to think of most of my life without tearing up." I explained, as she plopped down on my bed next to me.

"You're fear will just get worse until you find out, you'll never know the result until you actually try." She replied, placing my head on her shoulder for comfort.

I let out a shaky breath as a couple tears streamed down my cheeks, she was right as usual. But I still needed at least one day to prepare myself.

"Fine, but let me rest today. I'm not going to fancy restraint with puffy eyes and bed head." I remarked, watching as a sly smile spread across her lips.

She slowly began to exit my bedroom, delighted that she finally got her way with me. Not even explaining who that fake date even was, probably just a random guy from Google. It was 11:30 at night, and all of my crying really wore the energy out of my body and mind.

So eventually sleep crossed paths with my mind and hooked up, completely losing consciousness as my memories flashed like a polaroid camera.

December 15th 2018

"I can't believe we're graduating this year, seems like we only started high school yesterday." Jisung sighed, carrying both of our bags while walking home together.

"Don't worry quokka, you'll still carry my bags for me even after high school." I teased, pinching the reddened skin of his cheeks.

"Oh very funny, and you'll still put crackers in your mouth and pretend to be a walrus." He remarked dodging the snowball that came his way.

He set my bags down on my front yard as he gathered his own army of cold fluff balls. I tackled him to the ground as we both drowned the silence in laughter, I traced my frosted mittens across his face. Gently crossing his lips as he brushed the snow chunks from my hair.

The close warmth of his breath against my face sent my heart into a frenzy, I secretly craved the closeness of him... But I never wanted to admit it in case I'd lose him.

His now glossed lips looked so kiss able, the way they pouted as he focused on my hair. And how they stretched into a warm smile that left a fuzzy feeling in my heart for years, made it only harder to stop myself from interlocking them with mine.

"I better get going bun bun. I'll see you tomorrow at school though." Jisung reassured, lightly booping my nose as he left his trail from my snowy front yard. Waving one last time to catch my attention as I was at the front door.

"Farewell loser!" He shouted, showing off that bright smile of his.

"Farewell to you as well, asshole!" I retorted, giggling as I walked into my empty house all alone.

November 28th 2020

Y/n pov

"Wake up! Time for bubble tea!" Yeji screamed, jumping on top of me as she consistently hit me with my own pillows.

"I thought we were meeting Jisung later." I sighed, looking at the red numbers of my alarm clock reading 7:30am.

"Yes we are, but I want bubble tea and to talk with you about some stuff I found out." Yeji replied, pulling me out of bed to soon push me into the washroom.

I complied to her excited energy, understanding it is pretty exciting for her.

The steaming water swallowed every inch of my skin, blocking out all of the noises outside. Only leaving me and the blank wall to stare at, droplets of water racing against each other. A flash of the mirror and sunlight clashing, sending the flash of a polaroid to my memories.

August 16th 2018

Yeji squealed as her boyfriend threw her into the pool, soon joining her in a large cannonball jump. All of his friends danced around with liquor drenching their breath, as their bodies clashed together in ways they didn't fully understand.

It wasn't my style of fun, it instead gave me a wave of fear and stress. Not recognizing any of these people, while they danced around half naked. Yeji's boyfriend decided that she had enough fun for one night, and took her home to rest.

I hurriedly gathered my belongings and rushed out the door, just as excited and horny shouts came from the pool. I was okay to walk home alone, it felt nice to be surrounded my silence for once. Even if my conscious tortured me about every bad possibility.

"Need a drive home party animal?" a familiar voice called from across the road, that voice of the man who has always had my back.

"I'd actually really like that." I replied, feeling a wave of comfort when I entered the car.

"I can tell your a bit freaked out." He sighed, throwing his bad into the backseat.

"That party was just... A lot. A lot more than I expected." I whimpered, still a bit overwhelmed from the experience.

"How about you stay at my place for the night. We'll even watch some American horror story..." Jisung suggested, even though he was shit terrified of anything remotely scary.

"I'm holding you to it quokka." I giggled, slapping his thigh teasingly.

We drove to his home as the car filled with a random playlist of songs, one landing on my favorite 'Turning Page'.

"I didn't know you liked this song." I commented, blushing softly at the tone of the song.

"I want this to be the song that represents me and my soulmate. It sounds cheesy, but it's true." He revealed, glancing my way as the car stopped in the from of his home.

The whole topic of soulmates use to be humorous to me, remembering when me and Han drew matching docks on our palms as 'our' symbol. Even taking a polaroid photo of the amazing art we drew, I still have it in my phone case.

Then it hit me, how much it would hurt to see him destined with someone other then me. That moment when he glanced back into my eyes with a shy smile, is when I admitted to myself for falling madly in love with my best friend.

November 28th 2020

I walked along the streets of our home town, hanging my mask off my chin when sipping my bubble tea.

"You know what's crazy." Yeji started, catching my focus immediately.

"I remember the moment you started crushing on Jisung. You didn't even have to tell me, I already knew." She admitted, gazing at me with only a soft warmth in her eyes.

"It was obvious by how many photos you had of him and you on your wall, and the way you looked at him as if he were your dream person." She continued, texting something on her phone that I couldn't quite see.

"Or how when he caught you staring he'd reply with 'take a picture it'll last longer'... And you always did to get revenge. I will never forget the day I saw you two as more then best friends, that was the same day when I bought you that polaroid camera for Christmas. " She replied, taking a short break as her hands nervously fidgeted with her skirt.

"That's why I want a 'thank you' later on." She mumbled, before running off and leaving me completely stunned on the bench.

"Y/n..."

September 14th 2018

"It's crazy that this is your last day here." I sighed, trying my best not to cry.

He nodded trying to smile the pain away like me, but soon caving in once his arms met my body. I nuzzled into the crook of his neck, hoping I could capture his scent one last time.

"I'll still visit. I can't cope without seeing your face, asshole." He chuckled lightly, sniffling quietly when he retracted his arms away.

He stared at my features for a few long seconds, as if he was contemplating on doing something. Jisung shook his head, smiling brightly once more as he pulled me into one last hug.

As he put his palm on the door knob, I shouted his name one last time. Running across the room towards him, he turned around immediately dropping his bangs on the ground.

He instantly knew what I was going to do, since his lips molded with mine without one ounce of hesitation. His hands lost in my hair, pulling me closer and closer until there was no space between us. Jisung's lips were so much sweeter and softer then any other kiss I've had.

The sweetness was sprinkled with the salty taste of our mixed tears. Only creating more as the kiss began to end, both of us realizing we should've told each other so much sooner.

"I love you." We both sighed at the same time, smiling sadly at the bittersweet sting in our hearts.

November 28th 2020

"Jisung..." I gasped, turning around quickly to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

"W-wow... You've really. Wow." He stuttered, cautiously inching closer towards me.

"You too." I chuckled airily, swallowing back my tears. I missed him so much, but it hurt too much to see him at the same time.

"Y/n... I know it's been a while. But I honestly came here because I needed to see you. I still love you, and I don't care if we're soul mates or not. I'll sharpie our own symbol on us everyday if I have to." He revealed, grasping my hands between his own.

"I'm sorry that I was being so selfish." I sighed, caving into my own tears. Regretting my fears of seeing him again, feeling terrible for torturing him just as much as I tortured myself.

"We are both scared. It's not our fault, but I just want us to accept that things may not go our way. But that won't stop us from being together." He reassured, lightly brushing frosted his mitten across my features. Glossing over my lips gently, his eyes warm and gentle as they fluttered shut.

I molded into his kiss immediately, lacing my fingers through his silky hair. Soon pulling him closer to my so there was no space between us, making sure no one could try and ruin this moment for us.

His lips still were as sweet as the first time they molded into mine, and his fingertips could still make my legs give out by how gentle they were against my skin. Every emotion flashed through my mind, all my regrets, confidence, love, lust... It all flashed just like a...

"Polaroid." He gasped, tugging my palm next to his as the ink slowly traced the same picture into my palm. The picture of the camera that captured all the moments I treasured with my soulmate, the soulmate that was everything I could've asked for.

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 29: Numb

(Don’t lose yourself.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 29: Numb

Word Count: 4980

Relationships: DLAMP (romantic), Creativitwins (NOT remrom), Intrulogical (platonic)

Warnings: Rape aftermath/memories of noncon/talk of phantom sensations/memories from the event, panic attacks/hyperventilation/crying/emotional breakdowns, remus-typical vulgar/disturbing language (mild), mention of animal mating habits, vomiting (non-graphic/not described in detail), self-deprecation, cursing

A/N: Y'ALL I'm YELLING?? I THOUGHT THIS WAS GONNA BE SHORT AND IT TURNED INTO 5K AAAAAAAA;;;;;;;;; OKAY so someone mentioned wanting to know what happened after logan woke up after the events of day 21: laced drink. and. this happened!! i hope y'all enjoy this not-as-little-as-i-expected sequel in 5+1 style! it's fluffier than i thought it'd be :3c

1

It’s a lot to come to terms with when Logan wakes up.

He’s never been one for sentiment, never really has had romanticized dreams or wants relating to that type of thing. Sex and romance have never been a very prominent part of his personality, never been something he thinks about very often. Between his studies and college, he has much more important things to worry about than who copulates with whom. 

But for some reason, when he finally opens his eyes and rises from his slumber, Logan bursts into tears.

He doesn’t know why. He can barely remember what happened last night, can barely remember anything outside of a vague sense of pain. There are shadows on his skin, phantom whispers of fingers pulling his thighs apart, and it feels so real that Logan gags in fear. It doesn’t help that he’s also nauseous from the drug and the alcohol he consumed last night, so his shooting up from the covers and running into the en suite bathroom to empty the meager contents of his stomach into the toilet isn’t really much of a surprise.

Logan wants to stop crying. He doesn’t want to be breaking down like this, tears dripping hot from his face onto his comforter. He just wants to go back to sleep and wake up and have everything be fine, but of course he can’t even have that. This is all pathetic anyway, because there’s no reason for him to be so upset. He doesn’t really care about sex or relationships, has never dreamt of romance, so… so why is he crying quietly into his blanket as if he’s mourning the loss of something important?

His “first time” shouldn’t mean anything to him. It doesn’t matter that it was with a stranger, because he doesn’t care about sex, and he doesn’t have anyone to share his first time with anyway. There’s no logical reason to be crying, no rationale that would make this acceptable in any way. He’s here curled up in the fetal position, pathetically shedding tears into his pillow, and he’s in this much pain over a night he doesn’t even really remember. What an idiot.

“Hey, Pocket Protector, you up? I tho--” Roman’s voice comes from the door, bursts through Logan’s bubble of misery with the typical full tone echoing in his bedroom. He cuts himself off when he sees Logan shaking, clutching his pillow so tightly his knuckles are white. Little sobs spill out from behind the dark blue fabric, trickle out into the air like music notes and melodies carried by the wind, and Roman’s heart drops into his stomach. “Oh, shit.”

Roman immediately rushes over to launch himself onto the bed, placing himself strategically so that he ends up sliding into place right beside Logan’s head. Said Logan peeks up at Roman with a mixture of sadness, regret, and fear shining in his wet eyes, and the way he shrinks into himself breaks Roman’s heart. He lifts his hand up to run his hand through Logan’s hair, frowns even more when Logan nuzzles into the affectionate gesture desperately. “Logan, amorcito, what’s wrong?”

The term of endearment is more comforting to Logan that he expects, and given Roman’s low speech and gentle handling, it’s no wonder Logan feels a warmth blossoming in his chest. He doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t know how to pinpoint it, but he does know that when he looks at Roman, he sees a light from within. It shines so brightly, like rays of sunlight spilling over his face, and Logan finds himself craving more of it.

“I feel-- think there’s something wrong with me,” Logan whispers, shame building uncertainly in his throat, and Roman’s brows pull together. His concern is like a balm, eases the burn of the man’s fingers on Logan’s skin, and it’s almost addictive. His boisterous roommate doesn’t hesitate to pull Logan into his arms, doesn’t notice the way he flinches at the touch. He isn’t scared of Roman, of course he isn’t, but he’s of remarkably similar stature to his assailant.

“You are perfect just the way you are, dearheart. I… I love you. A lot. And I’m not saying that you have to return it, or that you even have to say anything, I just… you are loved. I care about you so much, and I vow to do my best to protect you from the dangers of the world,” Roman rambles, a dramatic speech to punctuate Logan’s sniffles. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to get up out of his bed. But reaching up to give Roman a soft, appreciative kiss on the cheek is easier than he’d ever expect.

-

2

Honestly, Logan should’ve expected it’d come eventually. Despite his breakdown the first day, the day after it happened, he hasn’t actually had another. Closing his heart in an icy cage feels like second nature, as if he’s flipped a switch to turn off his feelings so that he doesn’t have to confront them. He knows it’s unhealthy. He knows it’s not a proper coping mechanism, that it’ll only cause him problems. But he can’t do it, can’t face the pain and the residual fear and the debilitating anxiety whenever someone touches him without warning.

It wasn’t Patton’s fault that it changed so quickly, of course not, because he didn’t know. He couldn’t have known, because Logan still refuses to tell them what happened that night. Ethan, ever the gentleman, courteously left that part of the story out, said that what happened wasn’t his place to tell. Logan can’t even begin to describe how much he appreciates that, because he’s still coming to terms with the events of the night. He doesn’t need other people fretting over him before he’s ready for them to know, especially when he himself doesn’t really understand the turmoil in his mind either.

But that same silence has caused a lack of proper communication between the five of them, a gap in the knowledge of what to do and what not to do. Logan can’t exactly ask them to not touch him without letting him know first, without asking beforehand, because it’ll just bring up questions. Things asked that are too personal, queries he won’t know how to answer, information he doesn’t truly understand himself. So he just has to wait, and process, and hope that one day, he’ll stop feeling tears prick at his eyes when he hears yelling, that he’ll stay calm when someone brushes against his side by accident.

Of course it’s a hug that ruins his plans.

Patton means well, Logan knows that. He knows that it is meant to be a gesture of solidarity, the type of tactile affection his roommate gives so freely. It’s supposed to help, supposed to make him happy, supposed to be like a remedy to his unexplainably downtrodden mood that’s been going on nonstop for the past week. But as soon as Patton comes up from behind, loops his arms around Logan’s waist as he’s trying to make himself a sandwich, it’s all wrong. It feels too constricting, too much like a cage, a prison cell. Patton’s hands squeeze tightly around his midriff, hold and pressurize and pin him down, and they’re going to go lower and lower and slip between his legs and--

Logan doesn’t even get to apologize for shoving Patton into the refrigerator before tears are dripping down his cheeks and panicked hyperventilation cuts through the silence of the apartment’s kitchen.

And Patton looks much less hurt than he does confused, and worried, and almost as panicked as Logan is, and he calls for someone to help when trying to talk to him through his sobs doesn’t work. Remus is gone, and Virgil just stands at the doorway and twists his hoodie strings in his fingers nervously, but Roman is there, strong and ready to help. With both his and Patton’s help, soft hushed voices in the morning air to soothe and lull his sorrow away, Logan’s fear tapers off.

He feels bad. He tells them so, apologizes over and over to Patton for hurting him. He says he’s so sorry for pushing him off, for scaring him, and Patton just looks bewildered. “Lo-Lo, I was the one who scared you. There’s no need to apologize, that’s what I should be doing! It isn’t okay to sneak up on someone like that, it’s not your fault that you had an understandable reaction to it, honey. I’m sorry. I love you.”

And this time, just this time, Logan gets to initiate the hug, has much more control, and he feels like he can finally breathe again.

-

3

“Hey, Logan? You think walrus meat would be good in a stew?” Remus asks one day, spinning crazily in Logan’s desk chair as the owner of the chair himself quietly reads a book in his armchair. It’s a lazy day, dreary and gloomy as a storm rages outside, and Logan loves it. He adores having an excuse to hole up inside his room, to be with himself and his book and… well, Remus too, apparently.

“Maybe. I wouldn’t advise trying it, though. Regular beef is perfectly adequate and is much easier to obtain,” Logan replies monotonously, inflection lost when he’s too lost in his novel to care. Social interaction takes effort, too much to sound more normal to the ones he communicates with, and when he’s multitasking like this he can’t concentrate long enough to even bother to try. He doesn’t want to fake animation and liveliness, wants his care to be real. His friends deserve that.

“Yeah, guess you’re right. Hey, did’ja know that lions can fuck a hundred times a day? They have sex over and over and over and over and over and--” Remus says, but his nasally voice slowly bleeds away. It’s drowned out by the rushing of blood like white water rapids through Logan’s ears, lingering on facts that don’t even really have anything to do with him. It only happened once. It was weeks ago. He barely remembers it. But for some reason, even the mention send his thoughts into a frantic, dizzy spiral, and it’s all back. The pain, the fear, the touches that made him feel like nothing more than dirt on the ground.

Nausea coils in his stomach, and Logan throws up in his bedside trashcan because of his irrational fears a second time.

“Woah, shit, you okay? Did’ja eat somethin’ rotten? Somethin’ gross? Are you sick?” Remus asks, high and quick, and to his credit, he sounds more concerned that Logan expects even with his words. He hands Logan some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with even as he drones on about how long it takes for food to go bad, and although his method is unorthodox, Logan still is grateful that he’s trying. He flushes the toilet and stands on shaky knees, gratefully leans on Remus’ extended elbow until he’s able to sit on the edge of his bed. The silence between them extends for quite a while, a surprisingly long time for Remus to go without talking, but then he speaks up, much quieter than he was before.

“I do love y’a, y’know. Like another brother! You’re my friend, help me to not do too much stupid shit. You’re a party-pooper, but you’re probably the only one keepin’ me outta jail. So thanks!” And, well. Remus may be reckless, and vulgar, and completely irrational, but he’s a pretty good friend too.

-

4

What Logan wore to the bar that night was one of his favourite outfits.

“Was” being the operative word in the statement, because now, he can’t even stand to look at that pair of fishnets without tears blurring his vision and the air getting trapped in his chest. The cross-stitched pattern is a net, a vice made to capture him, and the giant gap where threads are frayed around the edges is a noose waiting to strangle him. Every time he looks at that pair of jeans it’s as if his heart has been waterboarded, drowning in regret and terror and hatred, and it’s suffocating.

So he got rid of it. Threw them out, never to be seen again. It’s not a permanent solution to his figuratively fractured heart, but it makes it just a little bit easier to breathe.

Virgil watched him that day, when he tossed the clothing into the garbage can outside their apartment, watched his contempted eyes scan the streets and alleys around him with a vigilance that’s all too familiar. He doesn’t know what’s going on with Logan, what caused him to have such a drastic shift in his personality, but he can make educated guesses. That day, he came back with a cut on his eyebrow and a raw, bleeding lip, so Virgil has the feeling that maybe he got attacked. It’s not unheard of for people far too drunk to safely interact with others to have short tempers, and if Logan exhibited his usual curt retorts, he may have pissed them off enough to beat him up.

Of course that’s only speculation, but something happened, and they all know it, but they just don’t know what. It’s driving Virgil crazy, and he knows it’s severely bugging Roman too. Even Patton is overcome with worry, but he managed to convince the two to let Logan come to them when he’s ready. Virgil knows that’s the right thing to do, that he’d want the same thing if it were him in Logan’s position, but it doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it.

And it’s times like now when Virgil wants desperately to break that rule, to interrogate Logan until the truth is finally out, but that’s awful and would only hurt Logan. He just doesn’t know what to do anymore, not with the way he comes downstairs in the middle of the night to retrieve a glass of water for his parched throat and instead finds Logan curled as small as possible in the corner. His knees are drawn up to his chest, and he’s managed to compact himself enough to fit between the end counter and a shelf. Tears come in rivers over his cheekbones, and his hands shake, and his breathing is choppy and shallow.

“Lo. Logan, listen to me, you need to breathe. You’re having a panic attack, but it’s gonna be okay, I promise. Just follow my breathing. count to five when you breathe in, hold it for five seconds, and then breathe out for five seconds. Nice and easy,” Virgil murmurs, quiet reassurances in the dead of night. Logan tries his best despite the mortification he feels at being caught, but then again, Virgil knows what panic attacks are like better than anyone. He wouldn’t judge him or laugh at him for this. He wouldn’t. Right? “There you go. You’re doing great. Just keep breathing.”

It takes a couple more minutes to come down from the anxious cloud Logan is suspended on, and once he does, he immediately is ashamed of himself. Virgil could have been sleeping this whole time (and he needs it) and yet he’s sitting here, helping Logan with his selfish dramatics. He doesn’t know what to do, how to make it up to him, so he just apologizes, sad and angry at himself. His upset causes Virgil to shake his head as he rubs comforting, soothing circles into the back of Logan’s hand with his thumb. “Don’t worry about it, dude. Panic attacks suck, I get it. I’d much rather you come to us for help instead of brave it alone, though.”

“Thank you,” Logan whispers hoarsely, eyes wide and wet and clear and Virgil just gives him a small smile. He raises his hand up slowly, asks him if it’s okay to touch, and it almost feels like his heart stutters in its pace. He’s touched, so incredibly touched, and he’s also almost endeared. Permission is granted easily, and Virgil tucks a lock of hair behind Logan’s ear, and then he pulls him into the lightest hug Logan’s ever experienced.

“No problem. I-- I… I love you, Logan. Sorry I haven’t said it before.”

The idea of hugs is seriously starting to grow on Logan.

-

5

Truth or dare really is a stupid game.

“Logan, truth or dare?” Roman asks, bouncing up and down from where he sits cross-legged on the floor. The six of them are all arranged in a circle, playing a game of Truth or Dare to commemorate Ethan’s first sleepover (coined at Patton’s insistence) in their apartment. They’ve all been steadily growing closer with him, going on outings or texting in a group chat far into the early hours of the morning. Although the circumstances in which they met aren’t ideal, Logan easily finds himself glad and thankful for his presence. He’s so similar to Logan in a lot of ways; although he does enjoy engaging in chaotic activities with Remus and belting out show-tunes with Roman, he also likes the quiet, to read and debate philosophy, which has left the two of them at a mutual understanding of one another more than once.

The other five have been drinking all evening, and are currently at various levels of intoxication. Logan opted out, which earned him an understanding look from Ethan, of whom completely skipped over him while handing out the initial first round of beers. Roman is by far the drunkest, although he isn’t completely inebriated. Remus has drunk the most, but he doesn’t really exhibit any obvious signs of intoxication, so it’s difficult to tell. Virgil has also drunk a lot, and as a result has taken the charge along with Roman on most of the dares. Patton surprisingly agreed to drink as well, and he’s been swaying on tipsy for a while now. Ethan hasn’t drunk much, but he’s definitely much more loose and carefree than before they started.

Virgil pops a handful of chips into his mouth and chases it down with some more beer as Remus takes a swig of whatever he has in his water bottle. Logan’s pretty sure it’s vinegar, but he doesn’t really feel the need to bring this fact up. Logan wants to just answer truth and get his turn over with so he can return to his novel, but they are here to have fun, and Logan would hate to ruin that.

“Dare, I suppose,” Logan sighs as he tilts his head, watches the other players’ eyes light up in various levels of conspicuousness. He’s chosen truth every single time his turn came around and answered the questions succinctly, leaving no room for confusion. He’s aware that his presence and participation are what one would consider boring, but he’s far more interested in the novel by his side than the game. He’s perfectly content to just watch their antics from the sidelines, exasperated but amused and fond, but they had insisted on him joining the game too.

“Hmm… we keep giving each other boring dares, let’s make this more fun! Logan, I dare you to… hmm… oh,” Roman vocalizes as he’s struck with an idea, sly eyes and a smirk sliding onto his face. The others lean in, intrigued, and Logan doesn’t really know what to expect. He’s never played Truth or Dare before now, hasn’t experienced a dare, so he isn’t exactly sure what a typical dare entails. “I dare you to kiss Ethan!”

Oh.

Logan doesn’t really know how to react to that. His brain is much more alert now than before, on guard despite there being no real danger around him. There’s no danger, it’s safe, it’s okay. The words of self-comfort are ones he’s uttered to himself night after night of being afraid of sleeping alone in the dark, where it’s all too easy for his vision to flash and put him right back in that man’s house, underneath his sweaty body, feeling his fingers pressing into--

“Logan? Sorry, was that too much? You don’t have to,” Roman says, confused even as he laughs and takes another drink from his plastic cup. Patton reaches over and slowly pries the cup away to replace it with a water bottle, and although Roman whines about it, he complies in the end. Virgil just continues to munch on the chips and watch them all, not even flinching when Remus drapes his arms and head over one of Virgil’s shoulders.

“A dare is a dare. I have to do it,” Logan says, clear and strong even though inside, he’s shaking. Although it is a reply to Roman, it’s also a reassurance for himself, a way to build up confidence so that he can actually do this. It’s not as if he doesn’t want to, because he does, it’s just that the thought of potentially losing control and getting hurt scares him. He feels almost guilty, because Ethan would never, ever hurt him or do something he’s uncomfortable with, but it doesn’t change the fact that the thought still nags at the back of his mind anyway.

“Nice! Go Logan!” Remus cheers, and Virgil and Roman laugh along. Patton just grins at all of them, happy and endeared as he breaks off a piece of a chocolate bar to let it melt sweet on his tongue. He hooks his arm around Roman’s neck and gives him a peck on the cheek, eyes bright and loving when Roman turns to catch his lips with his own anyway. Virgil just smiles and shakes his head even as Remus yells something about cooties right beside his ear.

“Logan, don’t, you-- you don’t know if you can handle this. You don’t have to,” Ethan stresses quietly amidst the energy, worried eyes boring into Logan’s own. And Logan knows. He knows that it still hurts, that he could freak out any second, that he could hear whispers in his ears any second. He doesn’t care. He can’t live his life constantly afraid of intimacy. He needs to take control, take it back, and be able to conquer the demons residing in the darkest corners of his head. So instead, he just sets down his book, places his hand on Ethan’s shoulder, and draws him closer.

Playful taunts and jeers come out of the others when the two stop inches away from one another, intense eye contact serving as the only thing keeping either of them from advancing. Logan breathes slowly and deeply, lets a small smirk play in his expression. Ethan’s breath catches in his throat when he manages to break the eye contact, lets his gaze flick down to Logan’s lips before licking his own, and then--

And then. They’re kissing. They’re actually kissing, and Logan isn’t even that afraid anymore! Sure, he isn’t completely off guard, but his own want surprises him when his hand slides from the base of Ethan’s neck to tangle his fingers in soft, lightly curled locks. Ethan responds just as eagerly, allows three fingers to rest on Logan’s jaw as a guide, and the feeling causes Logan to shiver from where he sits on his knees. It feels nice, warm, comforting. Despite the tiny bit of heat coiling low in Logan’s abdomen that he knows he won’t act on, it all feels somewhat tame, just an easy slide of lips against lips as the two figure each other out. Pulling away feels like it happens far too soon, but the others are teasing them with “getting a room” (apart from Remus, who lefts the room to go find more snacks), so it’s probably best to hold off, at least for now. Ethan releases out a shaky breath, and a bright smile makes its way onto his face, and Logan is instantly smitten. Is this…

“I love you,” Ethan breathes, sure and truthful and hopeful, and Logan can pinpoint the exact moment his brain figuratively catches up to his mouth and embarrassment spreads like roses across his cheeks. The others cheer happily, saying things like “Finally!” and “Took him long enough.” and it makes Logan wonder just how long Ethan has wanted this, how long they’ve known and he himself has been in the dark.

“I-- I love you guys, too. Fuck,” Ethan stutters out, curses his own unsure confession, and he’s stunned when looks of pure delight spread across the others’ faces. Roman looks absolutely overjoyed, and Patton is giddy with happiness, and Virgil is quiet even as a bright smile graces his typically downturned expression. Logan is aware of the acute feeling in his chest, the way the breath seems to get stuck in his lungs in a different way than that of when he’s afraid or in a panic. This feels warmer, more definite, and it only increases when Ethan smiles shyly as both Roman and Patton tackle him in a hug.

-

+1

It’s interesting how quickly movie nights have become a regular occurrence among their five-man household.

With the addition of Ethan into their home, into their FamILY (as Patton says), things have become a bit different in terms of everyday life. They still wake up every morning for breakfast, still deal with Virgil’s grumbling and Remus’ energy and Roman’s singing and Patton’s laughter and Logan’s exasperation. They still play board games every Friday, still help each other with homework, still curl up in whoever’s bed is closest to leech the warmth from one another. But now, they have Ethan there, to sweep into the kitchen and pour Virgil and Logan coffee, to stir the food in the pan that Patton inevitably will forget about, to make sure the twins don’t fight over serving portions. Now he absolutely demolishes all of them at Clue, assists with whatever schoolwork he can, brushes his teeth right alongside them as they prepare for bed.

It’s strange to consider these new developments, this new relationship, and Logan finds that he’s more entranced with the idea of it than he previously assumed. The quiet, trusting comfort they’ve found within one another is something that Logan doesn’t quite understand, and he doesn’t think he ever really will. It’s beyond words, beyond explanations, and that alone would normally completely turn Logan off to it. He operates best when he can rationalize things, describe and explain and make sense of things that happen in the world around him, but this… there’s something different. There’s something about him that frustrated him to his core and yet he can’t let go, refuses to give it up. He loves them too much for that.

And it’s that thought, that stray thought that floats into his head as the others lounge in various places around the living room that sends what feels like an electric shock coursing through his veins. He loves them. He’s in love with them, so deeply that it makes his heart ache. He loves how Virgil is perched on the arm of the couch, how Patton giggles at every joke in the movie, how Roman sings along with the soundtrack, how Ethan snuggles into Logan’s side as he rants about character flaws in the downtime between action scenes. He loves them all, loves them for who they are.

Logan also loves them for being so patient with him. He loves that when he feels like he can’t escape from the memories, Patton will take him aside to bake cupcakes and distract him from his mind rebelling against itself. He loves that when it becomes too hard to stay focused on the present, when his breathing becomes like painful bullets in his lungs, Virgil will count with him, hold his hands until he doesn’t feel so lightheaded anymore. He loves that when he just can’t stop shaking, needs to know that he’s safe, Roman will enclose him with a protective embrace and rock him until the trembling stops. He loves that when he can feel the phantom sensation of the man’s touch on his legs, when he can feel wispy fingers dipping between his thighs, Ethan will cocoon him in blankets and read a story to him to stave off the terror and the nightmares. And although Logan loves Remus in a different way than he does the others, he still loves how Remus is always happy to rant and ramble about anything and everything at once when Logan can only hear the man’s voice playing in a loop through his thoughts.

He loves them. His boyfriends, and one of his best friends, he feels like he’s bursting at the seams with how much love has welled up in his chest. He wants to let them know, wants to tell them. He wants them to understand how he feels, that he adores them unconditionally. So he does.

“I love you guys,” Logan says, soft and important when the volume is turned down on the television, and four heads whip around to stare at him in shock as the credits roll in the background. Logan feels a bit awkward under their scrutiny, doesn’t really know how to jump-start their movement and cognizance again, so he just gives a tiny, genuine smile. 

Apparently, that’s plenty enough to achieve the effect he wanted, but Logan doesn’t expect for three bodies to immediately hurl themselves at him in a massive group hug. Ethan simply turns and places his face in the crook of Logan’s neck, laughs silently as Patton starts crying and Roman goes off on a long, dramatic spiel declaring his love and Virgil just buries his face in Logan’s arm. And Logan flinches, of course he flinches, because the sudden touch startles him. But he’s not scared. He doesn’t feel afraid, doesn’t feel unsafe, and a gentle, shining warmth glows within him. And he gets it now. He understands what that warmth is. It’s pure, unadulterated love, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[lolainblue]

Phoenix -- Chapter 11

A/N: Thank you to everyone that is still reading this series, and thank you for the comments and reblogs. There is still a lot of story left to tell and I hope you’ll continue to stick with me!

Jane's POV:

   When I stumbled into the kitchen Monday morning Roger was already there, sitting at the island, head in his hands. The rich scent that filled the room told me that the coffee was already brewed but I noted that he didn't have a cup yet so I poured us both some and set out the creamer he liked before taking a seat next to him. He pulled it in front of him with a grunt, and once he had it the way he liked it he downed it probably much more quickly than was advisable for a hot liquid. If it bothered him he made no indication, just pushed his mug forward and set his head down on the counter. With a sigh, I got up and refilled his cup before topping off my own and then reclaimed my seat next to him. It was me that finally broke the silence.

   “Well, you certainly made an ass out of yourself last night.”    Roger groaned and nodded as he stared straight into his mug. “Uh-huh.”    “I know you don't have a hangover. That pounding in your temples is shame, you know," I pointed out.    “Uh-huh.”    “Still using casual sex to self-medicate I see. So is your rando hookup still sleeping it off or did he leave?”     Roger made a sound like a grumpy walrus. “Now who sounds like Janet? He's gone. And he wasn't a rando hookup. That was Vance. We used to work together when we lived out here before. We went out and had some drinks and fun. I didn't fuck him.”    “Clearly not, since you actually know his name.”   “You're a bitch when you're feeling self-righteous, you know that?”    “Well, it's no worse than what you said to me last night.”    Roger frowned and looked at me in confusion for a moment, then the memory flooded back on him, changing his expression to understanding and then horror. “Oh Jesus, Jane, I'm so sorry.”   I shrugged. It hadn't taken any of it to heart. I had known it wasn't coming from a place of truth, just hurt and anger. Roger had a pretty deep well of that these days. “It's all right. I'd already forgiven you before you even went to bed. Jared, on the other hand, might still take issues with you calling him a whore.”    “Oh no, I didn't...” Roger let his head fall back to the countertop with a groan.”I did. Fuck. Tell him I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it. Not really. My shitty attitude towards Jared seems to be directly tied to my shitty attitude toward myself.”    “You finally noticed that did you?”    “Can you stop being so smug and right?”    “It's annoying, isn't it?” I laughed, enjoying paying back Roger for his same attitude towards me the last week. “So what the hell happened, Roger? You were supposed to be out with Gretchen last night.”    “We had a fight.”    “You've had two dates. What could you two possibly have to fight about?”   “She's married," he deadpanned.    “She's what? That can't be right."    “Married. M-a-r-r-i-e-d. Married. She says she and her husband decided to separate a few months ago but she only moved out last week. All this time I've been down there flirting and making a fool of myself and she was still...”    “Well now, wait a minute," I stopped him. "The marriage sounds like it's over. It sometimes takes people a bit to transition when everything they have is mingled. Remember when Robin and Max spit up? It took a year before Max moved out and that was after she started dating again. Gretchen has already moved out. It's not the end of the world."    “She kept it from me all this time though, Jane. I don't know how I feel about that. And she's just now separating from him, just getting out on her own. I'm the test boyfriend, Jane. All I can ever hope for from her is to be her rebound guy.”    “You don't know that. If it's right, it's right. It doesn't matter how many people she does or doesn't date between  you and her husband.”    “Fuck, Jane, you are so naive....” Roger growled, getting up and refilling his mug again.   “Oh great, we're back to insulting me.”    “That's not what... “ Roger shook his head and rubbed the side of his face. “It's just that, after everything, you're still such a romantic at heart. You try to be pragmatic but you still believe in sunsets and happy endings. It doesn't usually work out like that.”   “Which is why it's so amazing when it does. You have to fight for it, Roger. Come on." I pushed my own coffee mug forward and Roger took the hint, topping me off too before he sat back down.  "If you like Gretchen as much as I think you do, you can't just walk away. Not unless she asked you to.”    “No. She's amazing. She gorgeous and funny and so great to talk to. I'm crazy about her. But she hasn't been honest with me, and that really makes me uncomfortable.”    “Did you listen to her side of the story? Or did you just hear her say “married” and then freak the fuck out?” Roger was silent. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”    I heard my phone ringing in the other room. “Shit, that's probably Jared. I told him to call this morning since our date got spoiled last night." I listened to it continue to ring. "I'll just let it go to voicemail for now and call him back. I'm not done with you."    “I'm sorry about ruining your night. Fuck, I can't even keep my fuck ups confined to my own love life, now I'm screwing yours up too. Tell Jared I'm sorry," Roger apologized.   “You can tell him yourself. I'm going to invite him back over for dinner again tonight.”     Roger's expression immediately changed from contrition to suspicion. “That's a lot of dates in a row, isn't it? You really jumped back on that horse didn't you?”    I rolled my eyes. “I see we've switched back to lecturing me. I'm leaving tomorrow and we're both super busy. We won't get much time together after that so I thought we should cram in what we can now. We're getting to know each other again.”    “I just find it strange that after all this time you're suddenly so enthusiastic about dating again. You know, now that Jared has come around.” Roger continued to look at me with narrowed eyes.    “I don't know what you're implying exactly, but if you think I've been hanging around for years waiting for him, you're wrong. I've actually been thinking about getting back out there again for a while now. There's this guy in my mountaineering group....”    “Doug!” Roger shouted triumphantly. “I knew it!”    “Yes, Doug,” I confirmed, feeling my cheeks heating. Doug was an Orthodontist, like Mitch, with sparkling blue eyes and a smile that I couldn't help but return every time I saw him. He was wickedly funny and very well read and we'd have quite a few conversations over stunning high altitude sunrises this last year. “I still might take him up on that dinner offer he's been making for months. We'll see how this goes.”   “Jared cool with that? He breaks the ice and then you go out with someone else?"    “I think I was pretty clear with him that I didn't want to be exclusive, but if it actually comes to that I'll make sure to reiterate that fact.”  In the next room, my phone started ringing again. “Shit, I really should get that.”    I grabbed my phone off the charger, expecting to see Jared's name displayed but instead it was Jeannie, my publicist. “It's just Jeannie!” I called back to the kitchen. “Give me a minute!”   I had barely managed to squeak out a hello when Jeannie burst in. “Are you dating Jared Leto?”    “What?” I asked in confusion.    “I have pictures in front of me, you and Roger on what looks like a double date. You're sitting next to Jared and you two look like you're together.”    Fuck. I knew I had seen paparazzi that night. “It was one dinner. We're old friends,” I explained.    “Old friends. Suuure.”     I groaned. “No, seriously we are. I've known him since I was at USC like a decade ago. Not too long after he did that television show. Before the band thing even." I left out the part about dating his brother.   “You're not holding out on me, are you? Because I could translate that into some new market interest. Hell, I could use the old friends reunited angle too... two L.A. dreamers, look how far they've come..."    “No, Jeannie. Please don't," I cut her off. My agent had set me up with her two years ago when the final book for my first series had exploded and I had gone from being a barely known mystery writer to someone with a rather enthusiastic following. I had needed someone to help me navigate the shark-infested waters of publicity and promotion that that came with. Jeannie was smart and enthusiastic and very good at her job, but she was usually much more aggressive than I would have liked.   “Fine, kiddo, you call the shots. But if you're going to be with him people are going to be taking pictures. You two are gorgeous together. You might as well use it to your advantage. You would probably be good for his image too, you know. All I'm saying is you should at least run it past him."    Knowing that Jared was about as in love with publicity as I was I somehow doubted that he would be any more interested in selling that particular narrative. “We're just reconnecting. As friends," I lied. The truth was complicated and I had no intention of explaining it to her. "He's on tour and so am I so I doubt there's going to be a bunch of photo ops coming your way even if you wanted them to.”    I could hear the disappointment in Jeannie's voice as she bid me goodbye and good luck with the tour. I was making my way back into the kitchen to explain things to Roger when my phone rang again. This time at least it was the call I had been wanting and expecting. “Hey, Jared.”   “Good morning, beautiful,” he purred and my insides turned to jello. “Did you sleep well?”    “Not enough. I got up early to make sure everything is done so you get my undivided attention tonight and I ended up playing armchair psychiatrist for Roger.”   I didn't fail to not the grumble of discontent from Jared's end of the line. “How

did that go?”    “Not bad. He said to tell you he's sorry.” I decided to leave the subject of Jeannie's call alone for the time being. “I told him he could tell you himself when you came over later.”    “Don't you want to go out? I'm happy to take you anywhere you'd like for your last night in town."    “No. I'll explain why when you come over. Dinner again?”    “Okay, but I'll pick something up this time.”    “That's good because I'm too busy to cook again tonight anyway. How's 6? Too early?”    “I'd come over right now if I thought you'd let me.”    I laughed. “Sorry, I still have some things to take care of. But I'll see you at 6.”    By the time my doorbell rang early that evening I was as ready for this tour as I was ever going to be. My bags were lined up at the front door, ready for the car that would be picking me up at eleven o'clock the next morning. I'd gotten my hair done, cleaned out the refrigerator, put all my bills on auto-pay, checked in with my parents and Mitch, and even squeezed in a final wax and mani-pedi. I was tired but my mind was clear and my stomach rumbled in anticipation of whatever Jared might have decided on for dinner.    Jared, of course, looked amazing as always, practically edible himself in a red and black button up shirt that probably could have used a little more of the “up” in that phrase as it hung loosely open, allowing me a peek at that amazing chest of his. I took the bouquet of flowers that he offered me, a gorgeous pastel arrangement of peonies and sweet peas, and threw my arms around his neck for a kiss. The butterflies that kiss sent fluttering were just as strong as they had been the night before and I smiled as I pulled away, burying my head in the flowers to hide the blush I felt returning to my cheeks.    “These are so beautiful and thoughtful. Thank you,” I gushed.    “I know you won't be around long enough to enjoy them properly but I wanted to do something nice for your last night in town.”    “They're perfect. Thank  you.” I nodded towards the bag of takeout he was carrying. “What's in there? It smells incredible!”    “Pho. I hope you like it. I realized when I was deciding what to pick up we probably should talk more about our favorite foods.”     I led him back to the kitchen so we could unpack the takeaway. “I love just about anything as long as it's vegetarian," I offered. "I'm a very adventurous eater.”    “That doesn't surprise me. You're an adventurous person.”    Roger met us in the kitchen, reaching under the sink for a vase before I could. “Hey, Jared," he said, busying himself with filling the vase.    “Hi,” Jared said stiffly. “Jane said something about you being here so I brought extra if you'd like to join us.”    Roger shook his head and took the flowers from me, arranging them neatly in the vase while he spoke, avoiding looking Jared in the eye. “Thanks. That's very gracious of you but I'm just going to order some pizza and stay out of you kid's hair. I just stuck around to apologize to you for my behavior last night.”    “It's okay,” Jared said, only slightly more warmly.    “No, it's not okay. As I pointed out to Jane earlier that anger wasn't really for you, it was for me. It wasn't fair for me to take my own self-loathing out on you. I've been a bit of an ass towards you lately. I just want you to know it doesn't really have anything to do with  you and I don't really think you're an asshole, no matter what I might have said.”     Jared cleared his throat. “I think whore was the most recent word you used.”    “Yeah, well not that either. I'm sorry. I'll leave you two to your date now.”    Jared seemed to soften. “No, don't run off. I brought plenty of food. At least sit down and have a bowl with us.”    Roger hesitated, looking from the ingredients Jared was setting out on the counter to the hallway that led back to the bedrooms. “That does smell amazing. Maybe I'll just make a bowl and take it in my room.”    I rolled my eyes. “Roger...”   “No, if I leave then it will be less awkward when you talk about me,” he said with an uneasy laugh. “You know you're going to fill him anyway. I'd rather not sit through it, to tell the truth.”  We made some small talk while we prepared our bowls, Jared watching with wide eyes while I alternated dumping in bright red chili after chili and taking test slurps of the broth until I had it as fiery as I wanted it. Roger laughed at his reaction, just pulling the sriracha out of the cupboard and placing it in front of me. I waved him off – I usually preferred the actual peppers to using the prepared sauce, assuming the broth was of good quality, and once everyone had their bowls the way they wanted we went our separate ways – Roger to his room and Jared and me out to our deck. The weather was warmer than it had been the last time we had been out there and we left the fire unlit, simply snuggling close on the rattan couch to enjoy the evening and each other's company.    "So I need to tell you something," I began.    "Oh?" Jared looked uneasy.    "My publicist called me this morning. Apparently, someone took pictures of us at that restaurant the other night. She wanted to know if we were dating."    "What did you tell her?" he asked carefully.    "I told her we were old friends who were catching up. She wanted to turn it into something... which I get that's her job and all but I put a stop to it. I just wanted you to be aware."    Jared nodded. "That's something we'll have to deal with down the road if we continue though, you know that right?"    "I do but I wish everyone would just give me a chance to figure this out before they go practically marrying us off."    He was quiet for a few minutes as we continued to eat. “So are we allowed to talk about Roger now?” he asked once I had finished my noodles.    I frowned. I knew Jared deserved an explanation, but I really just wanted to enjoy my evening with him. “It's his family again. They're colossal assholes. Always turning up with some new bullshit whenever Roger's happy. This time Marsha called to make sure that now that Roger was becoming more well known that he wasn't going to talk about his family back in Indiana, and oh, by the way, would he consider changing his last name?" "Fucking assholes," Jared swore under his breath.    "And to make matters worse, he found out last night that Gretchen is still married, although she's separated from her husband. He decided to go drink it off with a friend I guess.”    “Jesus, he cannot cut a break can he?” I could see Jared's attitude toward Roger instantly swing back around.    “No, not really.”    “Well tell him he has my number if he wants to talk.”    I nodded and snuggled a little deeper into Jared's arms. “And what about me?” I asked playfully. “Because I have your number too but I don't want to talk.”    “Really,” Jared said as he pulled me around until we were facing each other. He kissed me lightly on the nose. “What would you like to do?”    “My ride to the airport is picking me up at eleven tomorrow morning. I'm yours until then. What would you like to do?”   Jared moved in for another kiss, this time not on the tip of my nose and not nearly so innocent. I wasn't sure how far I was ready to take any of this, but it had been so long since I had allowed anyone to touch me that way and I found I was starving for that sensation.   “Let's go back inside.”

@thepromiseofanend@msroxyblog@nikkitasevoli@llfd1977@mustlove6277@fyeahproudglambert @little-poptart@snewsome756@guccilowell @monicasanoli @lady-grinning-soul-k @pandaliciouz

[slverjohn]

19 and s2 flinthamilton :)

EDIT: it’s been pointed out to me that this was meant to be flintham but i misread the ask and it ended up as silverflint??? i’m so sorry?? this is why i shouldn’t do things while i’m sick it’s like my brain only half works

oh my god this was a hard one…i changed the dialogue slightly but the sentiment is the same sdkljghasdkgj

inspired by that one description of flint’s cabin in some early script that mentioned a half painted landscape 

19. “The paint’s supposed to go where?”

It’s dark and dusty in the hold, and beyond that absolutely stifling. Silver’s sweating through his shirt after spending two minutes in the cramped room. Why he’s been asked to look through the stores on the Warship is something of a mystery: Flint had asked for him within minutes of returning with the Ashe girl, and instead of asking him to corral the men or take a headcount, like Silver had expected, he’d sent him below deck without a moment’s hesitation. 

Silver suspects that Flint wants his prying eyes and inquisitive mind away from the Barlow woman for as long as possible. He can’t blame the Captain, really: he’d do the same, if he were trying to maintain some mystery. 

He can’t say he particularly minds, despite the physical discomfort; better here than in the galley with Randall.  Even further, Silver would rather not spend too much time with Flint at the moment. Despite the many years of practice he’s had of self-serving double crossing, standing in Flint’s presence so soon after he’d betrayed him had made Silver uneasy. Something almost like guilt had begun to settle in his belly.

Perish the thought. 

Billy comes down just as he’s finishing his task, only one crate left to sort through. 

“What’s in that, then?” Billy asks, peering over the siding.

“A few jars of paint, I think,” Silver says, double checking the checklist hanging on the wall. 

“You should bring that to the Captain’s cabin. Call it a peace offering. Can’t have you glaring at Flint all the time, after all.”

Silver stares at Billy as if he’s grown two extra heads. “I’m sorry, you want me to put the paint where?”

“Look, Flint’s a bastard. I’m sure whatever he said to make you so cross with him was fucked up. But if the rest of the crew realizes how angry you are with him, it’s going to make our lives a lot more difficult.”

Silver doesn’t think the crew cares quite that much what he thinks of Flint, but he’s still stuck on the paint. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand what paint has to do with any of this.”

“Flint’s a painter. Back on the Walrus, if you’d bothered to pay attention, you’d have seen all those half-finished canvases scattered around.”

Silver had seen the canvases, but for whatever reason he’d never quite made the connection between the artwork itself and Flint as an artist.

Billy moves on, asking about Logan, about how Muldoon is taking his friend’s sudden departure, but Silver’s participation in the conversation is half-assed, at best. 

He remembers seeing the paintings, he remembers thinking they were slightly out of place in a pirate captain’s cabin, but he cannot for the life of him remember what was on the canvases. Were they landscapes or portraits? Romantic or realist? Good or bad?

He has no idea, and he’s burning with curiosity. 

It is this curiosity more than anything else that leads him to Flint’s cabin after dinner, the paints in one hand and the other hovering just over the closed door. 

“You could just knock, you know,” an amused voice comes from behind him, and he whirls around to see Mrs. Barlow watching him with a smirk. 

“I was going to,” he insists, though he feels himself color slightly at her raised brow.

“Well, no need to knock now,” she replies, and with that she simply walks in, holding the door open behind her. “Come along, Mr. Silver.”

Silver’s surprised that she knows who he is, but he’s distracted almost immediately as Flint stands abruptly at the sight of him, the heavy desk chair scraping loudly along the wood.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Flint demands, and (though he doesn’t break eye contact with Flint) he could swear he hears Barlow let out a put-upon sigh. 

Silver thrusts the box of paint out in front of him as if it could shield him from Flint’s irritation. “I brought you these.”

And Flint - Flint actually looks surprised at that, like the last thing he’d ever expected from Silver was a gift. Silver doesn’t want Flint to think he likes him or anything, though, so he’s quick to elaborate.

“I found them in the hold, and Billy mentioned that you like to paint. I figured they’d be better off here in your possession than gathering dust in hold.”

“Oh, how thoughtful, Mr. Silver. James so rarely paints, now, hardly ever has the patience for it. When was the last time you did something other than just a charcoal sketch?” The longer Barlow speaks, the more Flint’s eye twitches. It’s truly a fascinating cause-and-effect relationship.

“I must say, Captain, I never took you for such an artistic soul. I’d love to see your work, sometime,” Silver says, like the shit he is, because he wants to see if he can make that vein on Flint’s forehead start to pulse.

He can.

“Fuck off, Silver,” Flint says, but when Barlow clears her throat pointedly, He sighs, then continues. “Thank you, Mr. Silver. Now, please fuck off.”

Silver laughs, then walks forward to place the paints on the desk. Before he can turn to leave, though, Mrs. Barlow starts to talk again.

“James, why don’t we go for a walk on the upper decks? It’s a lovely night, and it’s been ever so long since I’ve been able to look upon the sea in such a manner,” she offers Flint her arm, and the look her companion gives her seems to be a strange mix of guilty, fond, and exasperated. It’s amazing, how expressive Flint is when he’s around her. 

“Fine. Silver, put that box in the empty space on that bottom shelf, will you?” Flint points to the bookcase in the corner, then loops his arm through hers. Before they leave though, Barlow catches Silver’s eye, looking between him and a leather-bound book on the far table pointedly.  Silver nods his understanding, brow furrowed slightly; why would Barlow purposefully point him toward something Flint clearly does not wish to share?

Still, Silver’s always been a nosy son-of-a-bitch, and so as soon as they’re gone he all but shoves the paints away and picks up what he assumes is Flint’s sketchbook.

It’s clear that he’s only just started using it, probably having found it after taking the Warship. The first three or four pages are detailed seascapes, vibrant and lively even in black charcoal. Flint’s gifted. Out of practice, Silver can tell, but good.

Interspersed between the landscapes are little portraits, some barely more than the bare-bones of a person’s face, and some intricate and life-like. At first, it’s mostly Mrs. Barlow, in various states of repose. There’s one of her naked, and Silver nearly tears the page in his haste to turn it, cheeks aflame. 

Then there’s a neat little sketch of Eleanor Guthrie, a scribbled out Gates, a kind-looking man Silver doesn’t recognize, and then -

Him.

Silver feels his brows raise, taken aback. 

It was clearly drawn after one of his earliest addresses: the Silver on the page has a bloody nose, and his teeth, bared in a mean grin, are stained dark as well. It really does look just like him, Silver thinks, and he notices absently that Flint seems to have put the most effort into getting his hair just right.

Maybe he shouldn’t be too surprised: they’ve been practically living in each other’s pockets these past few weeks, and it makes sense that Flint would simply sketch what he’s been exposed to.

The next page is him, too: this time in profile, frowning slightly. The page after that is a full-body sketch from behind; he wouldn’t be sure it was him, if it weren’t for the hair and that old cropped jacket he’d left behind.

He flips through the next seven pages, until he reaches where Flint’s sketches end. Every sketch, loose or detailed, small or large, on the most recent ten pages, are of Silver: silver laughing; Silver dripping wet after swimming to the Warship; Silver pouting; Silver playing with his hair; Silver smirking; Silver climbing up the rigging…over and over again, Flint has spent his free time not only sketching him, but thinking of him.

Silver doesn’t know what to make of that. He closes the sketchbook, cheeks red and mind reeling, and only barely remembers to put the paints where he’d been asked to before slipping out of the cabin.

He doesn’t understand why Flint has fixated on him in his artistic pursuits, as he’s fairly certain the man can hardly stand him. Maybe, at most, he finds him aesthetically pleasing (something Silver would never have presumed before seeing that sketchbook), but that is a far cry from tolerating or even liking him.

Silver decides, for the time being, to put this aside. He’s got Vincent and Nicholas to deal with, and he can already tell that they’re going to be the cause of most of his troubles along this journey.

But when he spots Flint standing with Barlow and the Ashe girl on the upper deck, illuminated by the full moon, he can’t help but wish the captain had made a self-portrait. Silver can’t say he would have minded taking it; he has no artistic talent of his own, after all, and surely that would be the only way to find a likeness of Flint.

He thinks he can almost understand Flint’s urge to put pen to page, if only to preserve the memories of the ones who so define the world around him. There’s some small part of him that would have liked something by which to remember Flint, so that he might never forget that fierce look in his eyes, the sharpness of his brow, the jut of his cheekbones. He’s been nothing but vexing and confusing, yes, but James Flint is unlike anyone he’s ever known. 

Silver will think of him, and his violent, artist’s hands, long after he leaves this rotten Warship behind.

send me a number!

[saikostories]

BTS - You Were Happy (Taehyung) pt1

You tried your best to focus on your textbook while simultaneously watching the male practice a certain move repeatedly, until his lack of sleep starting affecting his mental state and he went completely insane. It was bound to happen, he lost his mind nearly every other day in some shape or form; it wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t screwed around before when the going got tough and the studying got rough.

But now here he was doing the absolute strangest dance you have ever seen in your life that was something a monkey, chicken and walrus would do if they had formed a K-pop band.

Your pencil dropped from its perch between your lips and clattered onto your open book as you snorted out in uncontrollable laughter.

“What is that? What are those? What are you doing?” You huffed between deep breaths to control yourself to no avail.

Jimin flung himself to the floor, rolling onto his back in his own pool of laughter. God it was such a beautiful sound, you treasured it every time you heard it–thank the heavens you heard it a lot. You were one lucky woman and you knew it.

“You weren’t looking at me so I thought I should get your attention in some way or another.”

“Seriously, for five seconds my book was more important than you–gosh you really are such an idol. But I’m more a fan of your maknae; at least his shit is together 99% of the time.”

“Heey!” He rolled on his stomach, resting his face on his arms. He almost looked offended for a second, but as his forever best friend you were not fooled. “I thought I was your bias, that hurts.”

You rolled your eyes. “As much as this book will if I throw it out you. I can’t even have a bias if you’re all my friends–that’s just weird.” Truth is you totally had a bias and he was giving you such a hard time right now as you were trying to study. The facts were that you loved the boy in front of you.

Well, other true facts included the undeniable truth that you loved food, sleep and despised studying (all probably more than you loved this boy at times). But one truth loomed over your head and cast such a heavy shadow over your heart: the boy was not, and would never be interested in you as anything other than a best friend.

Childhood friendzone was a hell of a thing to break.

The first time he told you he’d gotten a girlfriend you’d smiled and congratulated him with a punch to the arm. Then, you proceeded to go home pull out the largest bottle of alcohol you could find and cry until your eyes swelled to the point that seeing was impossible. You were so drunk you wound up calling Taehyung. Apparently you had called to have him pick you up (you at least knew you were drunk and probably shouldn’t drive) so you could go see Jimin and “punch him in his stupid angelic face.” Instead of letting you do as you’d please he came over to your apartment with ice cream and a pack of hair binders–for when the alcohol decided that ice cream should come back up. He weaseled his way as one of your absolute best friends pretty damn quickly after that and you pretty much cried to him about everything you couldn’t whine to Jimin; which the list was getting progressively longer as time wore on.

The second girlfriend was easier–especially since Tae had showed up are your doorstep prepared with ice cream, and a Jungkook carrying a copy of Mario kart that would operate with your gaming system. He’d come as soon as he heard the news from the still giddy Jimin.

When the third came around the boys were already with you when you got the news. By default you’d had Tae immediately knocking you down with tickles while Jungkook smothered your face with pillows (he knew how much you hated crying in front of them). Unless you were drunk, you didn’t care about really much of anything when you were drunk. You resorted to alcohol way too much–so the boys would tell you as they took away your bottle and replaced it something sweeter like chocolate or a sucker.

When the fourth reared her head you finally started to realize that Jimin was never, ever going to see you as anything other than his best friend. So, when Tae and Jungkook showed up on your doorstep you smiled at them without a tear in your eye. They weren’t fools so they let themselves in and held you while you bawled this all out to them after your third glass of wine over a pirated copy of the sappiest romance movie you could find. For some reason preying on the maknae’s horrible sense of romance made you feel better, and if it made you smile he let you.

After the fourth girlfriend you lost count of his list. You only knew he’d gotten a new one when the pair showed up unannounced by any form outside your front door. They were there to help fill in the blanks of time that Jimin had once filled–before he began spending his time with other women and ignoring his best friend. Even if you spent more time with them than you did Jimin, your loyalties were still horribly skewed in his favor.

For now. Little did you know that ranking would flop on its head as easily as it was created.

People really don’t understand the power of words, you can’t take them back. No matter how much you apologize, someone’s memory will always replay your mistakes.

He still toyed with your heart in his palms; it was evident enough by the simple fact that you were with him now rolling around on the floor.

“Y/N?” He watched you studying so intently you became more focused on maintaining a normal, non-blushing skin tone than the words in front of you. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Aish, what’s with this deep thought all of the sudden?” You quickly covered up your loss of breath and lack of a heartbeat with annoyance. “One second you’re dancing like a fool and now you’re lolling your head with ocean-deep questions?”

He smirked, sitting up quickly to lean into your every expression and word as if he could analyze it for the information he wanted. “So you have! With who? Wait, I don’t want to know do I–you haven’t dated anyone so you must have had your pretty little heartbroken. I’m not really good at fights so I don’t really want to beat anyone up.” He scratched his chin with that smiling face of his where his laughter leeched up to his eyes. “But I do want to know what it’s like.”

Oh hell no, back the fuck up Park Jimin. You became a master at steadying your breathing and focusing on anything but the boy in front of you within the first three seconds of this conversation.

You glared at him. “One–I have too dated people, you’re just an oblivious little bastard sometimes.” Not a lie, you went on several blind dates to no avail–they weren’t Jimin. No one could be Jimin except for the idiot in front of you. “Second, yes I have been in love.” And I’m still in love but let’s just leave that little part out–kay, bye. “Third, it feels like…like you are so excited to see them your breath collapses in on you. You want to be with them constantly, like just the simple act of seeing their face can erase a year’s worth of pain in an instant. They’re like the natural healer. Like, I don’t know, you just feel it.” You cocked your head at him. “Your girlfriend?” You asked like he was supposed to know what such a vague and stupid question meant. It was a struggle to even get the words out properly past the ball of spit gathering in the back of your throat.

But luckily, vague and stupid was 90% of what came out of your mouth so he’d become fluent in the language of idiocy. “She told me she loves me. I’ve never been with a girl long enough to–well, you know a lot of girls tell me that, but it’s just….I feel something when she says it you know? I think…I think I love her too.”

Ouch, heart calm yourself. This isn’t anything new. The devil on your shoulder hissed her fine breath into your ear, smothering out the angel that became less and less prominent as time wore on in your hopeless love. This is the first time he’s come to you with this. This is the first girl he feels something for, he’s going to fall in love with her and get married. You know–she’s not going to want you around. Pretty soon she’ll take your spot as his best friend and lover (not that you ever were anything more than a friend). You smiled despite the stabs via pitchfork from your horrible self-centered, split mind.

“Then you should tell her. I think it would make her happy.”

He gave her another bright smile. “Ah, I think so too.” His face lost all expression for a second before slipping into a wide grin. “Hey! You should come over tomorrow, Hana will be there and I really think she should have already met you by now–you are my best friend.” Twist the knife Jimin, make sure it hits that exact spot why don’t you. “Besides, it’s my birthday and you promised me when we were five that we would never ever miss each other’s birthdays.”

You don’t mention that he’s missed three of yours due to his past girlfriend’s being sick, having their anniversary, or a date. You don’t mention that when you were ten you promised to take care of each other after every horrible thing in your life. You were in the hospital last year after tripping down some stairs and the only people that visited you were Jungkook and Taehyung–Jimin only found out after you had stopped by BigHit on a pair of crutches. You don’t mention that when he cried because the girl he’d confessed to rejected him that you two would always run to the other’s aid in times of need. When you needed him because some loser you’d tried dating nearly killed you emotionally with the threat of physical violence he wasn’t there until it was too late, Jungkook having kicked the man’s ass to the moon by then. You don’t mention the thousands of promises that went unanswered on his end.

“I have to study, I have finals coming up, Jimin.” You try to pick up your pencil again but his pout causes you to freeze in annoyance. “You’re such a child sometimes, you know that?”

“Please? I want both of you there tomorrow.” You can’t have both of us, you already chose one so don’t make me watch.

“You’ve got the guys.”

Jimin rolled his eyes and groaned, flopping down on his back. “Pleeeaaasee, Y/N. Taehyung will be so pissed at me if you don’t show up–and Jungkookie will ignore me forever.”

“He’ll ignore you anyways–he kinda doesn’t like you most of the time.” You highlighted a line in your textbook, intent on ignoring him and the sound of your heart cracking like stone in your chest.

“What if I promise you can have your pick of the first slice of cake?”

You paused, narrowing your eyes at him. You’ve waged many fork wars over cake; ever since the two of you were young you’ve both been determined to be the holder of that treasured piece with the most frosting. It was your crack, the thing you’d give up even love for at most times.

So giving up heartache for a piece of frosting with some cake was nothing.

“Okay.”

You could never resist his smile.

***

You double checked yourself in the mirror and made a face. Sometimes it was better to just not look and keep pretending that what you looked like really didn’t matter. After all, you were just going to your best friend’s birthday party (sponsored by BigHit so it would be full of celebs and want-to-be-celebs). Not like the whole freaking world was going to see you looking like an absolute wreck. No big deal.

With a sigh you opened your bedroom door to the scene of BTS’ maknae lying on the couch, tossing one of your decorative pillows up in the air and catching it before it could hit his face. When he saw you he sat up quickly, breaking out into a grin. “You look like you’re ready to steal some hearts.”

“Oh please, in a room full of celebrities this friend of BTS’ is going to look like commoner trash.” You smoothed out the bottom hem of your dress, being once again reminded how damn short and tight the thing was. “It really doesn’t look bad?”

Taehyung (who had been rifling through your photo albums–his favorite past time at your apartment) snorted. “Are you stupid or something? The mere ground you walk on is on fire.”

You let out a snorting laugh, looking the boys up and down. “You guys aren’t too shabby yourselves, got plans to pick up girlfriends yourself?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and busied himself with your pillow again while Taehyung gave you those damn eyes that would make any girl fall for him in an instant. You had to admit; even your knees were a little weak. Too bad your heart was still fully occupied by Jimin. “Maybe I am, but what’s it to you–curious to fill the spot?”

You snatched the pillow out of the air from Jungkook and chucked it at Taehyung with a baseball pitch that wasn’t even worthy of a little league.

“Just for that you’re buying me my first shot tonight.”

You knew by his forced smile that he didn’t want you drinking tonight. It was like he knew what would happen. But, you also knew he would let you do as you pleased just to see you in a better mood; because he knew there was no way in hell you were going to make it through the night if you didn’t have something in your hand.

He and Jungkook had this weird telepathic conversation as you stood there with your arms crossed. That was when you knew that they also weren’t going to leave you alone tonight. They worried too much about you, but you supposed you’d always worried about them in return. At least some feelings were mutual.

You gaze softened and you stretched your arms out for the boys with wiggling fingers, signaling for them to come to you. You bit back a chuckle as they scrambled to wrap themselves in your arms, they couldn’t seem to reach you fast enough. Taehyung had always sworn up and down that you gave the best hugs in the universe. This one was a bit more awkward since there were two full-grown (why were they so much taller than you?) men that you had to force to bend to your tippy toed height. You held the back of their heads to your shoulders, rubbing your fingers through their hair. Their stylist would have a field day with you tomorrow.

“You guys are literally the best, you know that?” You could feel your voice shaking and you felt them wrap their arms around you in an attempt to keep your tears in. “Why do you deal with my shit all the time?”

“Because that’s what you do when you care about someone. You always do the same for us.” Taehyung whispered against your collar bone. Remembering the time he was in your place and you’d burst through their dorm room door with your scarf flapping behind you like a cape. You’d come prepared with an entire box of his favorite pastries and a marathon of super hero movies that Jungkook had picked out.

“You always bring us food, and help us with our work, and stay up late to watch us practice. It’s only fair.” Jungkook chuckled, pulling away from you to ruffle your hair–which was funny since you’re supposed to be older than him.

“Plus you’re loads of fun when you’re not intoxicated.” You jabbed Taehyung’s ribs at his comment.

“Sorry but you’re not getting me sober tonight no matter how much you try.”

“I know.” He wraps his arms around your shoulders, leading you to the door. “But I can worry anyways.”

“Your fans are going to kill me when you go gray early.”

~.~

You didn’t expect this to be anything like the parties you and Jimin had as a kid. There weren’t gaudy balloons and tightly strapped on hats, nor was there any sort of party games to immerse yourself in other than drinking and talking to fellow lonely folks. There were no streamers either, only flashing lights and loud music.

You were further reminded of this the second the doors opened to the huge club room packed with people. Hell it was exclusive to the point you had to be an idol, on his invite list, or a registered plus one.

Eyes turned to the entrance as you stepped in, but you were pretty sure it was mostly due to the fact that you had two of the maknae line standing on either side of you. They kept their hands floating around your elbows in an attempt to get you to move faster in your tall heels. You would have given them crap for it if it wasn’t for the fact that Taehyung would tell you that if he could dance in them you could walk.

They led you further into the room, starting for the dance floor. It was like they knew you wanted to do everything else except for hunt down Jimin. Jungkook took you as his partner first, since it looked like Taehyung was caught by a few girl group members who declared themselves huge fans of him. It seemed the boy was determined to make sure you had as much fun as possible tonight as he pulled you into a twirl accompanied by a light dip.

You were not a dancer in the least and he let out a laugh when you almost slid to your ass on the ground. Jimin had danced a lot with you, but it was mostly you doing some sort of strange butt shake accompanied by endless fist pumping. You could really relate to Jin at moments like this (god he would kill you for just the simple thought of that).

“Those girls are real cute!” You shouted over the music, using his arm as a tether to pull yourself up to a stable position on your feet. “Don’t you want to talk to them too? All the girls I know are such Kookie fans!”

He shook his head, his eyes doing a sweep of the dance floor before he spun you around quickly until you were in the exact position he wanted. Then his hands rested on your hips, rocking you back and forth to the beat. He was always real good at making you dance even when you were incapable of it. Sometimes, with his extreme assistance, you even looked like you were capable of following a groove.

“I’d rather spend my time dancing with you.”

“Awww.” You flicked his nose on the backend of the beat. “Does our little Kookie have a crush on me?”

His hands tightened on your hips; guiding you into the dance with such furor you knew he was annoyed. It made a giggle burst past your lips, getting worse as he tickled your sides in the process. He wouldn’t let you escape so easily though, he kept torturing you as he moved you around the dance floor ruthlessly. After about two minutes of this you finally caved into an apology, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life with laughter. Your heart felt the lightest it’d felt in a long time.

Well, until you saw Jimin and his girlfriend dancing a few feet away from you two.

He was also laughing, but it wasn’t because of you or even with you. It was because of his beautiful girlfriend with her doe eyes and plump lips. His hips were pressed up against her while her arms slung over his shoulders. They were so close to each other that they were nose to nose and you were amazed two people could be at such a distance without kissing.

Jungkook looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze, quickly spinning the two of you around so that your back was to them. He seemed to still be looking over your shoulder, but he kept moving with you so you couldn’t see what he was looking at. All you could see was the tight clench of his jaw and his hand as it came around to keep your face pressed into his shoulder. He seemed so mad yet his voice was so gentle when he spoke. “I’m sorry; I thought if I was blocking them you wouldn’t be able to see.”

You smiled into the fabric of his blazer. “I know.” You didn’t want to burden him with the sudden tightness of your heart, so you peeled yourself off of him. “I’m going to go get a drink.” At his look you altered your sentence. “Of water, it’s freaking hot in here you know.”

“You’ll be back, right?”

“I will definitely need another dance, I promise.” You pushed off into the crowd before he could stop you. It wasn’t a lie, you would want another dance. Just not right now. You knew very well that the boys were going to playing tag team with you all night so you weren’t left alone. They wouldn’t want you to feel like you didn’t deserve to be here. But, until you rode home, you wanted them to have as much fun as possible without worrying about your mental state. You’d relied on them too much lately, becoming such a selfish wreck that took up all their free time. This was just an attempt to make up for it by excusing yourself from their party life tonight.

Besides, with so many people that would want to talk to them, it would become difficult for them to keep track of you.

You found the bar easily enough, perching yourself on one of the stools while the party thumped by around you. You’d have to leave this safe zone eventually because this would be one of the first places the boys would look for you, but for now you ordered a drink.

This was where a man had found you.

You had to admit that he was handsome as hell: a perfect jaw line that led up to plump lips and that perfect nose that drew into chasm deep eyes. You would have fallen for him if you were much shallower. He looked at you with a smirk as you finished your appraisal. It nearly brought a blush to your cheeks to note that he too was looking you up and down, particularly lingering on the dip of your dress before landing squarely on your face.

“So, how do you know Jimin?” He asked as the bartender slid him his drink. Even how his fingers curled around the glass was handsome.

You were pretty shameless; right now all you wanted was someone to heal your heart. Whether it was for a night or for a lifetime didn’t really matter much. You took a sip of your drink slowly, licking your lips before pulling them back into a smile. “We’re childhood friends.” God you hoped your voice didn’t sound strained. “How about you, how do you know the birthday boy?”

He leaned in towards you. “A little secret, I’m a plus one for my friend–so I don’t actually know who he is other than the fact that he’s someone famous.” He glanced at the curve of your legs. “And he has such a beautiful girl at the ready.” He flashed his pearly teeth at you. “Lucky man.”

You bit your lip. “Ah, now I don’t know about that. I’m not even an idol.”

“A model then?”

“You flatter me.” You took another sip of your drink about to stick out your hand to introduce yourself before you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned to face the topic of conversation tonight–Jimin. Even better was the gorgeous specimen of a woman holding onto the crook of his elbow as he smiled at you.

Ah, hell no. Not now.

“Hana this is Y/N, Y/N this is Hana.” He gestured between you two as if nothing was wrong and he hadn’t just interrupted your conversation.

You ignored him completely, turning your concentration to the girl. It wasn’t her fault you were Jimin at last, all she had done was fall in love with him–she had more of a right to do so than you. “Omigosh.” You breathed, hoping that you sounded as sincere as you felt. “Jimin seriously doesn’t do you justice. You are too freaking gorgeous to be dating an idiot like him.” You laughed, holding your hands out in front of you. “Sorry, I’m pretty horrible at introductions and that sounded back. As Jimin said, I’m Y/N, and I promise that me and this goof are strictly just friends.” Your heart lurched to just say the words, but it felt a bit easier with the twinge of whiskey you’d dumped into your stomach.

She laughed back, nearly pushing Jimin out of the way to talk to you. “You’re too kind really, but I’m not like the other girls Jiminie here has dated, he told me the fun times he’s had trying to explain that his best friend is a girl. He also never told me how pretty and kind she was–no wonder women ran for the hills after meeting you.”

Oh and she’s the utter angel too, let me hate myself some more while I drown in my sorrows.

You started telling her all the embarrassing stories you could think of, enjoying hearing her laugh to each and every one. She really was a sweet girl–she didn’t deserve your hate. Hell, she didn’t deserve you even being in the picture but here she was accepting you anyways.

Damnit Jimin, why couldn’t you bring me a girl I could hate?

Finally she excused herself when she saw one of her favorite bands enter the party, Jimin kissing her on her cheek with a laugh.

“Don’t go falling in love with them now.”

She pecked his lips. “Only you, Jagi.” And with that she was gone, leaving a huge open wound where your heart used to be, you turned back to the man and your drink–surprised to find he was still there and watching you with amusement.

“Sorry about that.” You flashed him a brilliant smile before you felt your chair being forcibly turned back to face the ignored Jimin. You glared at him as his eyes frittered to the man behind you. Jimin jerked his head to the side, his own anger reflecting in his eyes. You turned your head as the man bowed his head to you with a wink, walking away to some other part of the party that wasn’t next to you.

You frowned, kicking his shin until he released your stool and allowed you to turn back to your drink. You chugged it in anger. “What the hell was that for?”

“I didn’t like the look of him.”

Like you have a right to me. “I am none of your concern, Park Jimin.“ You were annoyed, heartbroken and ready to have a raging headache in the morning. You didn’t want to remember a single moment from tonight–you were so done with Jimin’s shit.

"You’re my best friend; you’re plenty of my concern.” He tried to get you to look at him, but you refused.

Instead you scoffed, smiling as a thanks to the bartender as he gave you your next alcoholic serving. “I don’t think we can call each other that.” You were starting to feel a buzz, but it wasn’t enough for you so you started to work on the drink.

“Why do you say that?”

You finally turned your gaze to him, tilting back since his head was so close to yours in his attempt to gain your attention. You searched his face for something of the man you had originally fallen in love with, but you didn’t even know if it was there anymore. This man didn’t even know you. You spent more time with Tae and Jungkook than you spent with him–texting and all. He was slowly becoming a stranger who thought you were friends. He didn’t even remember your birthday and he couldn’t even be bothered to check up on you every now and then. If you hadn’t forced yourself to try and keep in touch with him then he would have cut you loose long ago. How freaking stupid were you to love a man like that?

“Do you even know me anymore?” You whispered, nearly begging him to convince you otherwise.

“Of course, you’re my best friend. How can I not?”

“What’s my favorite color?”

He blanched, knowing very well that your color favorite color changed like the wind. He hadn’t talked to you enough to know the answer at this very moment–something he was fluent in back before he’d started dating. “Something easier.”

“When’s my birthday?” You sipped at your drink, your words starting to finally slur. You watched his face, the last strands of hope slipping from you at his expression.

With the sudden realization of just how much he’d missed he tried to reach for your hand. You yanked away from him quickly, sitting as far away as you could from him on the small surface of your barstool. “Y/N–”

You cut him off. “You going to marry her?” It came out fuzzy to your ears.

He must have heard you slur your words because he was suddenly examining you closer. “Are you drunk?” He tilted his head to get a better look. “And you were about to let that man take advantage of you!” Great, now you were both pissed for utterly stupid reasons.

“I’ve got to be drunk to be able to even look at you!” You clenched your hands into fists. “And what I do does not concern you!”

“What the hell?” He cocked his head at you. “What are you even saying? Of course it concerns me!”

“I don’t matter to you Jimin, I never even did.” All your pent up anger, sadness and heartbreak were releasing at once in your horribly drunken stupor. You just wanted the hell out, you wanted to run away like the coward you were. You attempted to brush past him but his hand snapped out to grab your wrist. “I gotta go.” You snapped.

He pulled you to him. “Y/N, wait. Please–talk to me.”

“No.” You snapped yourself out of his grip. “I don’t want to. I’m done waiting for me to matter to you, Park Jimin.”

“What the hell are you saying? You’re not even speaking properly.”

You gave in. After years and years and years of holding in your feelings for him, after all of the tears, the frustration, the relying on others to help you feel better you gave up all in one drunken stupor. “I’m in love with you Jimin–I have been for a long time.”

But you weren’t prepared for his words, they took the last shreds of the world that you’d held around you and shoved them into the ground.

“I know.” He winced at himself. “I knew this whole time–I just…I wanted…I didn’t want to ruin this. I just, I can’t love you like that, Y/N.”

***

You felt the tears coming before any sort of breath could make its way out of your lungs. It was hard for you to figure out if your feelings were anger, betrayal, sadness, frustration or a toxic mixture of everything under the sun. “You knew?“ It was so sad and pathetic sounding–you were amazed he could even hear you over the music.

His expression of pity made you feel like you wanted to slap him and curl up into the floor at the same time. Was it possible for a person to become one with the carpet? "Y/N–I didn’t…I couldn’t–”

“You knew.” Your words were fevered, rushing past shaking lips. Unlike his darting eyes that searched for safety, yours were steady on him. “You knew and you still asked me to come here. You still gave me that smile of yours. You still asked me if I’d ever been in love. You freaking said you’d beat up whoever hurt me. You forgot my birthday; you still kept up your god damn flirty behavior. You knew and you couldn’t just cast me to the side instead you left me there and then picked me back up when I was convenient for you.” You were amazed you weren’t sobbing–hell you were lucky your words regained some sort of dignity at the end. The tears that fell down your cheeks didn’t even feel real, nothing really did anymore. Everything was empty–hollow. There wasn’t a single thing left in you that wasn’t shattered.

“I didn’t want to see you hurt.” He looked like there was still something left to protect in you, some part of you left untouched by the hurricane that was Park Jimin–something he had left unbroken.

“So you were going to let me live in limbo for the rest of my life?” You tried your best not to shout.

“You were happy.”

It was like a record stalled in your head, a single high pitched noise rang in your ears and now it was all you had to keep your voice at a yell instead of a howl. “How the hell do you know how I felt! If you thought I was happy then you were tripping on some heavy shit!” It was a drunken snarl mixed with a horrible sob that would have had you laughing at any other time. “I can’t even be around you right now.” You tried to pull away from him, to escape but he held you back so he could get in front of you to block your exit. Nothing that came past his lips was coherent; you didn’t even know what he was trying to say, he looked so broken himself.

Good.

You were drunk and absolutely nothing mattered to you in that moment. You pressed your hands against Jimin’s chest and pushed him with every ounce of drunken strength you had, successfully knocking him back into the nearest person. He’d never seen your eyes so cold and empty before. By the time he’d managed to apologize and regain his footing you were already long gone.

You ran through the crowd of people seeming to pulse around you in slow motion. You knew Taehyung and Jungkook were mixed somewhere up in this mess. Eventually (when Jungkook realized you weren’t going to make good on your promise) they would come look for you–hell, they probably already were if you knew them well enough. You couldn’t even tell how much time has passed since you’d ditched the youngest on the dance floor.

They wouldn’t find you for a while, that you would make sure of. Not until you could fix your face and have another drink.

You found the hallway that housed the bathrooms, a supply closet that must have been left open by maintenance and a heavenly door that said EXIT in neon letters. You pushed through the door, bursting into the side alley and inhaling deep breaths from the crisp night air. It cooled your sweat-drenched skin and dried the tears streaking your cheeks. It was so quiet outside in comparison to the thump of the music you could still feel vibrating through your heels. Now you could better hear the sound of your blood rushing in your ears from the alcoholic buzz in your brain.

Speaking of heels, they were really starting to get on your nerves and they were creating blisters and red marks from where they rubbed against your skin. You grunted as you reached down in an attempt to take them off, but you already weren’t very balanced and so you had to keep adjusting the position of your feet just to keep them underneath you.

You suddenly became aware of another presence also outside when chuckling erupted because of your drunken antics. The man from the bar flicked his cigarette on the ground, strolling towards you (god he had a model’s walk) before stooping down to your feet. His nimble fingers helped you detach the buckles that were too difficult for your currently sloppy digits.

“What are you doing here?” You pulled your right foot free from its shoe, relishing the now flat ground you could walk on. Taking off high heels after a long night was one of the most pleasant feelings in the world–so much so it almost made you forget about Jimin for a second.

Almost.

“Well, I was out here for a smoke break and then I notice this tipsy beauty crying as she was trying to take off her shoes. Now, being the kind man I am I couldn’t let her struggle all on her lonesome, could I?” He tugged off your left shoe and beamed that damn handsome smile at you.

You couldn’t help but weakly reflect what resembled a smile back at him. “Thank you.”

He gripped your elbow while his other arm snaked around your waist as you nearly fell in your attempt to grab your shoes. "Ah, careful there. Are you okay?“ He tilted his head to examine your face. He brought his hands to your face, wiping the pads of his thumbs across your cheeks to brush away the tears. "Someone as pretty as you should never have to cry.”

“I–I uh had a real bad night.” You half-laughed with a slight redness developing in your cheeks from his touch.

“Can I make it better for you?” He chuckled, his eyebrows drawn together with concern.

To you this man was your angel, the first person to approach you with concern and care after Jimin shattered everything you’d built to protect yourself. You were also drunk, so anyone who showed you any remote sense of kindness would be your angel–but it helped that Jimin had disliked this man earlier. It made you want to go with him, talk to him and let him whisper all the things you’d wanted Jimin to tell you. It made you want to satisfy some form of vengeance against the man who had broken your heart.

“Buy me a drink.” You whispered, eyes glossy with all the promises the existence of this man held for you. “Ah–I’m Y/N by the way; I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself before we were interrupted.” What was left of your heart bled more at the mere memory of Jimin. “He’s an ass.” You whispered under your breath.

He laughed again, pulling you close to him so you could steadily walk alongside him. “Well, Y/N, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Haneul.” He pulled open the door, carefully escorting you inside. “Come on, let’s get you that drink.”

You didn’t even realize you’d left your shoes outside, which should have been a sign that you were too drunk to make rational decisions.

You pulled back as he tried to pull you into the large space of the clubroom, you wanted to go back outside, stay in this hallway–anywhere but out there where you had the chance of running into Jimin. “I can’t go out there.” You were starting to cry again. “I can’t. Please. Anywhere but out there.” You were scared of what he’d do if you saw him again–you were scared of what you’d do. It was something your heart wouldn’t be able to take right now.

Haneul nodded at your distress, wrapping you in his arms and blocking your view of the clubroom. He pressed your face into his shoulder and smoothed down your hair until you stopped crying. “Shh, shh, see? All better now. I won’t make you go out there–don’t worry.” He gently altered his path from the openness of the club room to the open supply closet. He gently maneuvered around the boxes and helped you get settled in a spot where you could rest your back against the wall. He double checked three times to make sure you were as comfortable as possible.

“I’ll be right back with that drink, okay? Don’t you go anywhere, beautiful.” He flashed you another dazzling smile that had you blushing before he was gone.

This man was kind to you. This man was way too good to you. You were drunk. You hated Park Jimin. All of these were facts that should have strung together more coherently in your head. All of these meant that you should have immediately found Jungkook or Tae.

God you were so stupid.

You barely had time to blink before he was back, a drink in each hand. You admired the one he handed to you, finding it absolute heaven at the moment. The alcohol would help you forget everything; it would smooth out all the rough edges Jimin had created. You wouldn’t be sad anymore tonight–at least that you would remember tomorrow.

You downed it, much to his widened eyes–it was easy to see how you always managed to get drunk so fast if you drank like a fish.

“That bad of a night, huh?” He chuckled, setting his own drink on a shelf next to some rolls of toilet paper. He watched you lying against the floor, his demeanor shifting as he leaned against the boxes with his arm crossed.

You stared up at him, licking your lips. He seemed different now; you were just now questioning this angel man in front of you while alarm bells started to ding at the back of your brain. You thought of Taehyung and Jungkook–people knew you were here. “They’re probably looking for me.” You whispered, your head was feeling fuzzier and you hoped you could just blame it on the alcohol.

His smile no longer made you blush. “I don’t think so, beautiful.”

You eyelids were feeling heavy–you knew you couldn’t blame it on the alcohol anymore. “Why not?” you voice felt like lead in your throat as you tried to stand up. You were so sleepy.

“No one will be looking for you anymore.”

You felt his arms wrap around you, easily stopping you from going anywhere. Your head lolled on your shoulders, about three seconds from sending you into the deep abyss of unconsciousness.

Oh shit.

~.~

Taehyung was caught up with another girl group that had demanded his attention when Jungkook stepped in beside him and tapped on his shoulder. The girls’ squealing got significantly higher in pitch, especially when he flashed an apologetic smile for interrupting.

“Hyung,” He whispered. “You need to come here for a second.”

His heart dropped slowly with every step–he could see the clench of Jungkook’s jaw, the anger and worry in his eyes. The kid was never good at hiding his emotions, especially when he was real upset like now.

“Where’s Y/N?” Taehyung barely wanted to ask the question for fear of the answer. Jungkook’s gaze looked to the floor– he’s always known how Tae felt about you, he’s known ever since Jimin had introduced you to his friends. You were not Taehyung’s type at all, but you had the soul to match him and he knew that Tae would eventually fall for you.

He never knew just how hard the boy would land though.

Jungkook led Taehyung to the bar where Jimin sat with his head held in his hands. Taehyung knew instantly that he would rather turn around and leave. He would rather walk away from everything right now and pretend that nothing happened and that you would be there waiting for them at the end of the night. He wanted to do it so bad, but this was reality and he knew if he wanted you he’d have to figure out what had happened.

“Tell him what you told me.” Jungkook’s voice had never sounded so cold to Taehyung’s ears.

“I hurt her real bad, Tae.” He whispered into his hands. “I told her I knew about her feelings and she was so upset-”

Taehyung clenched and unclenched his fists to keep his anger in check. “I don’t care about your sob story right now–I’ll be pissed at you later. Where is she?”

Jimin’s voice cracked. “That’s the thing, I don’t know. I tried to find her when she ran–Hana even helped me and…I don’t know. She was with a man before when I initially talked to her.”

Taehyung’s hand slammed on the bar next to Jimin, making the other 95er jump. “What’d he look like, what happened?”

“She was so drunk.”

Taehyung laughed with a bitter tinge, remembering how you always seemed to drink at the most inopportune moments. Of course you were drunk–of course. “She’s so stupid.”

Jimin’s gaze narrowed on Taehyung, almost like he was angry. “Do you like her, Tae?” It was a protective hiss that had Tae clenching his teeth.

“You don’t get to be pissed about that. Why don’t you go worry about your girlfriend and ignore Y/N like you always do. I’ll care for her, I’ll pick up the pieces and I’ll watch over her each and every night while you string her along like you always do.” He shoved himself away, ignoring both Jimin and Jungkook who jogged along behind him.

Jungkook had never seen Tae like this–like he would bite someone’s head off at any second. Truth be told, he’d never had a reason to be afraid of Taehyung, but the thought of you in danger was enough to make a once-happy man a sudden cornered animal that shouldn’t be approached.

Taehyung tried to think like you, tried to picture you hearing the news. You wouldn’t want to be in the same room as Jimin, no matter how large it was. You’d immediately burst out the door.

He imagined you walking down the hallway past the bathrooms, past the empty supply closet with a forgotten glass of alcohol. He imagined your slender hands on the door beneath his hands as he pushed it open.

He wanted to close it again, wanted to pretend like he didn’t see them.

Your shoes were there, left behind for whatever reason. One: you never forgot anything, unless you were dead drunk or someone was distracting you. If you were dead drunk you’d be passed out by your shoes. Two: you couldn’t get far without your shoes, and you sure as hell weren’t in that room if Jimin couldn’t find you.

He fished out his car keys as he scooped your shoes off the ground, looking to Jungkook. Tae was frantic; every part of his body shook.

Where were you? What happened? Were you safe? Would you ever be back? Were you dead?

“Come on, maybe she’s at her apartment.” Even though he said it he knew that he wouldn’t find you there. You had no way to get there unless this man dropped you off–but then you wouldn’t have forgotten your shoes. He drove like a mad man, nearly driving through several red lights.

He didn’t care–if you were at your apartment he’d yell at you for them later. It was your fault for making him worry so much.

They had spare keys for the times you asked them to housesit or the times you’d call them drunk off your ass needing help because you managed to get stuck behind your bed. They never asked how you got in those situations, but you always managed to get in them. The thought would have made Taehyung laugh, if he didn’t open the door to empty silence. If he didn’t look at the way everything remained in its place as it was before the party. If he didn’t look at the fact that you hadn’t been home.

His hand shook at he brought it to his ear, expecting to hear your ringtone from your phone. It didn’t even ring, it went straight to voicemail.

Your phone wasn’t on; your phone was always on even during movies, and it was always charged–you made sure of that.

He dialed the second number; the number he didn’t want to call. The number he thought he’d never have to call for you.

“Hi, is this the police?” He paused as they replied. “Yes, I’d like to file a missing person’s report. Yes I know it hasn’t been 48 hours, but listen to me please.”

They did.

***

Ever since that day Jimin had picked up the hobby of walking–especially after a long grueling practice session. It helped pull the lingering thoughts from his head; it tugged out the unnecessary drivel of daily life. But, when he walked he remembered everything. He would walk past your apartment, past your favorite restaurant until his feet landed him in front of the club where he had lost you.

He would stand there, at the side entrance where Jungkook had said Tae found your shoes. He’d kick a rock or brush his toe along the spot. You had stood here at some point, crying because of him.

So you were going to let me live in limbo for the rest of my life?

You were in the back of his brain, clawing your way to the front with every step of his walk. It felt like a punishment to him, but one that he had to endure. Your conversation with him would replay on a loop until he took a step away from the club. You refused to climb from his head; rather you wanted to leave deep scratches on your way to the abyss of the forcefully forgotten part of his brain. It’d only been a week since his birthday party, but here he was like an ass trying to forget the conversation that landed you wherever you were now.

He covered his eyes with his forearm, stuffing his free hand into his pocket.

You knew? God he’d never seen your face crack in on itself, he didn’t think it was possible. You cried a lot in the past, yeah–but it was over stupid dramas and movies. When it came to real life, he’d only ever seen cry when he cut open his thumb. You didn’t know what to do, so you floundered for a bit before flat out bawling as you clutched his thumb to your chest. He’d had to wipe away those tears and convince you to get a bandage. “No, I’m not going to lose my thumb because you’re stupid.” The memory lifted up the corner of his mouth. He was stupid to think that he couldn’t hurt you.

He was stupid to think that happiness is always shown through expressions.

His phone vibrated his back pocket and without moving his arm he pulled it out and pressed it against the shell of his ear. “Hello Hana.” He whispered.

“Are you coming home? Your walk is taking longer than usual.”

“I’ll be home soon. I promise.”

There was a pause on her side, but he couldn’t hear any movement.

“What?” He whispered, knowing full well there was more she wanted to say. He knew her well enough if he’d claimed to love her in front of you. Now he was being an idiot to Hana, he should be thinking more about her in situations like this right? What does it look like to her when her boyfriend runs around town because he’s upset over his best friend who happens to be a girl.

It was almost like he forgot that fact–you were indeed a female, that was very much clear by your outfit at his birthday party. The man that stared at you as if he would like to devour you whole, just the fuzzy picture his face had become in Jimin’s mind set him off in anger.

“Nothing.” Hana hummed innocently; she only did that when she was lying. “I’ll see you when I come home.”

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and dropped his arm, leaving the spot that calls out to him every night in favor of heading to a warm bed with a waiting girlfriend.

He passed one of the hundreds of posters Taehyung and Jungkook had stapled up to a telephone pole. Your face smiled at him–it was a picture he had taken of you after he had tickled you because you were studying too hard. It was meant to be a blackmail image, but it turned out too perfect to be useful. He’d kept it though and sent it to Taehyung with the caption try for blackmail and get a photogenic idiot, what the hell? Taehyung must have kept it.

Considering he loved you. God the thought sent Jimin into another angered tailspin and he didn’t even know why.

He let her go. He didn’t predict her movements well enough and she was gone–he’d made her leave. He didn’t love her like she loved him–so why?

Because Park Jimin was a sweetheart on the surface, and an asshole who convinced himself he was justified on the inside.

In short, he was more of an idiot than you–and that was saying something to the one who got drunk and kidnapped by a questionable man.

~.~

The police had both Jungkook and Taehyung’s number, but they preferred talking to the younger because he was more composed. He screamed a lot less about results. It didn’t mean he was any less worried or any less anxious about your immediate return–it just meant he was more composed about the fact that you were missing.

So when he got the call that you’d been spotted by a bystander he practically ran to your apartment where Taehyung had been staying in hopes of your return. He tried the door, knowing Tae wouldn’t keep it locked even if it meant his own lack of safety. He’d always just say that what if you were hurt and needed to get in quickly–a locked door would mean you couldn’t do that.

Jungkook’s hyung was hopeless, but he let him do as he pleased to avoid the backlash. It was easier.

“Taehyung.”

The man buried in stacks of missing posters and a colorful array of pictures including you looked up from his nest. The place looked like an explosion of grief, the way a mother digs out everything from a son lost in war. Taehyung had every memory of you displayed in a chaotic mess in front of him and he refused to clean it up for fear that when he did he would forget each of the moments captured by these otherwise meaningless objects.

“What is it?” His voice sounded like he’d been talking all day without a break for water. He was probably calling places, screaming, speaking to your photos or a combination of all of them.

“Someone saw her.”

He nearly knocked the coffee table over in the process of getting up, a slew of papers and photographs whizzing around the room with the sudden movement. Jungkook could taste the stale air it stirred up, when was the last time his hyung left the room?

Jungkook spoke before Taeyung could grab his shoulders and shake his words out of him, like the man’s expression wanted to.

“The police said they got a lead, apparently some woman had recognized her from our posters and called them.”

“Where?” Taehyung interrupted.

Jungkook debated telling him the truth, but he knew Tae would find out eventually and kill him for lying. “The red light district two towns over.”

“Did they say what she looked like?” Taehyung was shrinking in on himself, slowly going back to his perch in the nest of photos and numbers that would lead him to you–or so he hoped. It was like the man was saying this because he needed to know, not because he wanted to hear it.

“The woman described her yes. She said her hair’s been cut–pretty horribly–and given a bleached dye job.”

Taehyung laughed with an iron spike of pain in his throat, his gaze was already lost somewhere else. He saw you jerking your head as they tried to change your appearance, refusing to give them the satisfaction. He could imagine your frown when you looked at yourself in the mirror, your actions causing you to look like a mop-headed shoddy blonde freak. You’d hate it. He knew you would. You hated the smell of hair dye, it was one of the reasons you enjoyed teasing Yoongi.

“She had bruises on her face and some yellowing in other areas that were visible. She was still wearing the dress that was in the poster’s description. And…”

Taehyung closed his eyes tightly as if to block out Jungkook’s words. But all he did was picture the words coming out of the maknae’s mouth in live action.

“Help!! You fuckers! Help me, don’t just stand there and watch!! I’m being–MPFH!” You screamed, breath coming out in ragged gasps past your bleeding lips. A hand stifled your screams, forcing your head against his bony shoulder so hard you were seeing the constellations out of the blinding neon lights on the buildings. You sucked in breath through your blood clotted nose, choking as he dragged you. Your fingers dug into your sides as if that could keep your bruised and probably broken ribs in their correct places.

Your entire world felt like it was in slow motion, the people passing by, the swirling lights, the way your eyes flickered from face to face for help because now even screaming was banned from you.

They loved to hear you scream before, practically begged for it.

Your eyes connected with a woman who looked up at you for a second and then immediately swerved into a restaurant. But you saw the phone in her hand and the number she dialed.

In all your struggling you kicked up a wind that knocked a loosely stapled poster to your feet. You stepped across it without time to recognize Tae’s writing or your own face.

You let out a strangled scream past his hand, your fight strengthening as Hanseul’s friend dragged you towards a brightly-lit house full of screaming girls.

He opened his eyes when Jungkook finished, refusing to look at him. Instead his eyes begged to your face pictured in a string of photobooth pictures the three of you had taken. “Please tell me they got her and we can go pick her up.” He whispered.

“They sent some DNA samples found at the place to see if it was her. When they arrived they found no one matching the descriptions that the woman had listed.”

Taehyung was afraid to close his eyes again; he knew if he did it would be like the nightmare of his nap earlier that day. Your hands reaching for him, clawing at his mouth to stifle his screams. Your voice was hot in his ear, begging at the end of sobs for him to come and rescue you from hell. From the men that had become demons the moment they laid eyes on you.

“Hyung, this means she’s alive.”

Taehyung let out a bark of a laugh, his neck bending backwards as his head rested on the seat of the couch and his legs sprawled out on the floor underneath the coffee table. The floor was more comfortable, if you were in pain then he must be too–however minuscule it was. “Is that a good thing now?” He watched your ceiling fan spin circles until he got dizzy and was forced to squeeze his eyes shut. Your scream from his dreaming drilled through his head. “Some things are worse than death, Kookie.”

Jungkook didn’t want to imagine what you were going through, unlike Taehyung he threw himself into his work. When he wasn’t working he threw himself into getting the entire world to recognize your existence so they could find you. He’d even reached out to his fans, and like wildfire they’d spread the news just to try and bring a smile to his face.

“Jimin called as well.” Jungkook was afraid to mention the other male’s name. BigHit had even separated their individual training schedules so Tae and Jimin wouldn’t have to cross each other’s paths for fear of Taehyung starting something.

Taehyung’s eyes opened, his glare darting to Jungkook who stood behind the couch. “Did you tell him to rot in hell?” When Jungkook sucked his lips inward and looked anywhere but his face he snorted. “Then I don’t care what the hell he said.”

“He wants to fix this, he wants to talk to us again–he wants to help. We need more help right?”

“I don’t need his help.” He spat, pulling himself off the couch and turning his back to Jungkook to compile the stacks of missing posters better.

“Taehyung-”

“If he saw her he’d probably just watch her go again. He can talk to me again when we find her.” He picked up a picture Jungkook had taken of the two of you on one of those stupid kiddy rides they put outside grocery stores. A little mini carousel that neither of you had fit on too well. Right after that picture was taken you had hit your head on one of the decorative tassels of the roof and fell off onto your ass. You had a plastic rope-textured bruise for a week on your temple. “But he can’t talk to her.” He whispered, pressing the image to his forehead. “Not after what he did.”

If he put the image close enough to him he could imagine you bursting through the door, shouting profanities about work like you always used to. You always bought ice cream after those particularly bad days, and because you disliked plastic bags with the fiery passion of strangled ducks you would carry it in your hands from the convenience store–no matter the outside temperature. It would make your hands freezing. After putting the ice cream away in the freezer you would always sneak up behind him and press your icy fingers to the back of his neck. He would squirm and scream, but you were quick to chase after him with laughter.

It was funny how he couldn’t even remember the sound of your laughter anymore. All he could hear were your sobs.

You weren’t here with cold fingers and laughter, but he was still chilled.

***

It’d been two months since you were stolen; Jungkook had kept him updated underneath Taehyung’s nose. You’d been sighted only twice in the span of two months–but you were always long gone by the time the police got involved.

Now here he was, passing by your apartment only to see the light on like it always was. He could imagine Taehyung was still holed up in there with photos of you taped up to every inch of your blank walls. Hana tugged on his arm, alerting him that for once he wasn’t alone on his nightly walks.

She’d wanted to see what he did with his free time when he was choosing not to spend it with her. Hana looked up at the light, her lips twinge into a smile of pity. “He really won’t give up on her, huh?” She brought her hands to her mouth to blow hot air into her hands in a gesture he once found cute.

“Why would he give up?” He whispered. “He loves her right?” It angered him to say the words, like Taehyung was getting all the credit even though the most Jimin had done to help you was feel sorry for himself for getting you into this mess–not like Taehyung would have let him help anyways. The man was convinced that Jimin should never see you again.

He didn’t like you, so he couldn’t feel jealous. But he still wanted your feelings; he wanted you to still care about him–as selfish as it was he just wanted to cradle your feelings to his chest. He didn’t even know if that was all there was to it. He was always bad with deciphering his own feelings. Maybe if you were back he could figure everything out.

“Jiminie?” He snapped his mind from its runaway thoughts, turning back to her as she spoke. They’ll find her, don’t worry.“

“I’m done waiting for me to matter to you, Park Jimin.” He knew what came next, your face when he told you how he’d thought he felt. The way that he had the power to break you like no one else before had been able to. His heart shoved itself lower in his chest with pain from missing you, from hurting you, from seeing anything but a smile on your face. You were his best friend no matter what, and here he was repaying you by being the sorriest excuse for a man that he’d ever been.

“Hana, can we not talk about Y/N?” He took a step away from your apartment, letting himself be led by his feet. He knew where they would take him; he knew the horrible path of self-loathing that it would lead to. It always did.

She tilted his head into his line of view, but his feet kept moving anyways. Hana wasn’t good at dissecting his feelings–not like you. She wasn’t an expert in his facial expressions, so she didn’t always know how to help him in the way that he needed her to.

Unlike you.

He still remembered one day you were at the arcade to attempt to beat your latest high score and he’d just looked at you. His girlfriend had broken up with him, one that he was starting to get attached to for once. You immediately left the joystick and slapped him on the back. "I changed my mind. I want ice cream!“

"Didn’t you just put a five in there?” He’d laughed, momentarily forgetting the hurt his ex had inflicted.

“That’s why you’re buying.” He doesn’t know why he didn’t notice before, but your grin could melt even the most frozen of hearts.

“You’re still blaming yourself?” He was honestly surprised Hana was on the mark, which meant that he must have been pretty distraught if even she could tell what was bothering him.

“It’s my fault.”

She bumped his shoulder with her own, in what was supposed to be an act of comfort. “Kinda.” He adjusted his expression into one he was positive she wouldn’t be able to read and kept walking forward towards his ultimate destination. He felt her turn away–he knew her well enough to know she was upset with him for not considering her feelings as much as he should. “But her going off with whoever took her was her own fault.”

As they reached the edge of the club he pulled his arm from hers. “No. That’s not how it works. It can’t be her fault if she was drunk.”

“And how do you know she was drunk enough to not make rational decisions, Jimin?” It was becoming another firefight, but he didn’t care enough anymore to stop it. There were becoming more and more of these lately, but he only half listened to Hana’s side of the conversation–it mostly involved her saying that Jimin never paid enough attention to her lately because of the situation with Y/N.

“Because I’ve known her since we were kids, I can take one look at her and know her entire mood. I can read her like a freaking book and she was drunk off her ass. This wasn’t her fault–how dare you say it was!”

Her hands clenched into fists at her side. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about her, huh? Is that why we’re still talking about her? Why we always talk about her?”

“She’s missing, Hana.” His voice dropped an octave, easily made to feel guilt by the girl he was supposed to love.

She released all her tension, letting out a sigh as she looked at her surroundings. Of course, the club where she went missing. Her eyebrows furrowed and she cupped his face in her hands, letting him lean into her touch. “I know Jimin, and it’s not all your fault okay? Everyone is doing the best they can.”

He didn’t see Hana in front of him, instead all he saw was you comforting him and pulling him close into a hug. If he was less delusional he would have been able to tell that Hana was shorter and her hugs weren’t as spine-crushing as yours had always been.

“What am I going to do if they don’t find her, Hana?” Saying the other girl’s name felt foreign when all he could see was the you that wasn’t there.

“They will, they will find her. We just have to have some hope.”

He’d never cried in front of Hana, never. But all he saw was you, and so everything crashed around that one pleading moment. He sobbed into her shoulder resting his forehead in the crook of her neck. This image of you overlapped over Hana drowned out the many different yous that replayed in his head: the screaming one, the crying one, the broken one, the drunken one that went home with some strange man. “I miss her so much.” His voice was obstructed by his sobs. “I did so much stupid shit to her and I can’t even say I’m sorry because she’s not here.”

“I told her I didn’t feel that way about her, Hana.”

She bit her lip in worry, but not for you–for her own relationship with Jimin. Truth be told, when you met you she was incredibly jealous. But, she had the ability to cover that with smiles and the genuine want to get to know you better. What made you so close to Jimin?

“I know, I trust you Jimin. I trust you.”

He kissed her as if to prove that he was here, that he didn’t care about Y/N how she cared for him. “I love you, Hana. I love you–she’s just my friend. I don’t love her like that. I don’t. "He would have kept repeating himself for forever if she didn’t interrupt.

"I love you too, Jimin–and I know.” She laughed, slapping his arm. “You don’t have to keep telling me.”

She was always so bad at identifying what he was feeling based on his expressions.

“Are you sure you were telling me the truth, Jimin?” She whispered, trying to hold her fragile boyfriend together with the weak power of her arms. “Are you sure you were telling the truth to yourself?”

His dampened sob brought a sad smile to her face. “What are you even talking about right now?”

She rubbed her palm in circles on his back, patting him once to signal him to get off of her. When he broke from her, he saw Hana again. The ghost image of you had fled somewhere to the back of his brain, waiting for your next appearance. “Come on, let’s go home.”

He was still staring at the ground with her words, trying to make you come back so he could apologize–so he could do everything in his power to become someone worthy of being your best friend. Or more. The thought snaked through his head before he could crush it, and suddenly the only thing he could think about was holding you.

“Hana, what does love feel like?” He whispered as she looped her arm through his.

She felt like a nurse walking a patient with Alzheimer’s back to their room as she started to lead him back to their own apartment. She hissed in a breath that he obviously didn’t notice or paid no mind to. “Even I don’t know the answer to that question anymore.”

~.~

Taehyung sat with his back pressed against one of the living room walls, a bottle capped with his thumb draped across his lap. He stared at the wall of your pictures, trying to remember how you looked when you were a physical presence in front of him rather than a flat image. He held the phone so tight against his ear he felt the back end of his piercing press into the base of his skull. He prayed that they would have good words for him.

But god didn’t exist for him, because they never were.

“We spotted her again.” An officer started to tell him before Taehyung cut him off.

“What did she look like?”

He heard Jungkook pause in the kitchen, the clattering of the dishes the boy was doing ceasing for a minute to judge Tae’s mental state.

“Sir, I don’t think you want to–”

“Just tell me, I can take it.” He gripped the phone tight, his fingers becoming whiter with the pressure.

The officer still sounded hesitant when he spoke. “She…she didn’t look good, I’m sorry. There were signs of severe bruising around her neck and….

The second you found an opening to escape you ran. You ran like the ground was made of glowing coals and there was an escape from the pain at the end. You ran until your lungs heaved and your horribly malnutritioned and busted body screamed and tore with the energy it took to move you forward at the speed you wanted to go. You heard them shouting to each other in the background, yelling for someone to go get you.

After all that had happened they weren’t planning on letting you escape so easily.

You heard the gunshot before pain ripped through your thigh and you collapsed to the ground. Your body rolled with the momentum, hands scraping across the ground. You refused to give up. You tried to get your feet underneath you, tried to crawl forward with your hands and nails until they ripped off and you left bloody claw marks on the road. Their footsteps walking up to you caused you to scream before they had even done anything.

They pressed a booted foot to your neck, pressing you into the ground. "We’re not done yet.” One of Hanseul’s friends snarled, pushing harder until your hands dug into his shoe and left bloody streaks. Your face was turning red and you saw black dots swarming your vision. He laughed, pulling his foot from you only to watch your ragged gasps. You were unstable, your vision swimming with the sudden intake of oxygen. He crinkled his nose at you, eyes scanning your beaten form. “You fight back too much, you know that? Who the hell is going to want to buy you if you look like shit?”

You spat on his shoes, causing him to retaliate by pressing his foot to your bruising throat again. He snorted. “Maybe Hanseul’ll be forced to keep you. Poor soul, his girls never last long.” The blackness ate up your vision before you could stop it. “We’ll have to start finding a new place to dump the bodies.”

“Did you find her–did you get her?” There was no energy to his voice when he spoke, he couldn’t force emotion past the lump of alcohol in the back of his throat.

“We had one police officer on the scene at the time; by the time backup arrived they’d already gotten away. I’m sorry.” It sounded like he expected some sort of big breakdown of anger, some cause for concern.

Taehyung didn’t have much left in him anymore. “Just find her, please.”

“We’ll call you with more updates, sir.” The police officer said quickly, hanging up. Taehyung let his hand drop to the floor, the phone skidding across the hardwood.

“They got away again.” Taehyung raised his voice so Jungkook could hear all the way from the kitchen.

Hanseul picked you up by your waist and set you on the countertop like you were a doll. “You’re become a hassle you know that?” He grabbed a pair of tweezers to fish out the bullet from your thigh.

You just stared back at him with those eyes that he absolutely loved to see–unbroken, unfazed, and staring at him like they would kill him the first chance they got.

He chuckled at that gaze, plopping the bloodied bullet into the garbage before slapping a weak excuse for gauze to your thigh. “You don’t break easy. Surprising, considering how I found you.”

You snarled, but your hands were cuffed behind your back. They had to keep a tighter rein on you since your attempted escape; you couldn’t go wandering off doing however you pleased. You were their merchandise, but since no one wanted busted goods you’d become a toy instead.

You spat at him, causing him to backhand you with a fresh bruise. Even when you turned back all he could see was that defiant stare. It excited him to no end.

“Then it’s settled.” He hooked his finger under your chin, forcing you to keep your gaze steady on him. “I’m going to take you after all.” He jerked his chin to his boys behind you, watching the scene with a mixture of amusement and boredom. “Go prepare her room.” With the smile that he gave, you knew this place would probably be the last you’d ever see.

Hanseul flashed you that same handsome grin he’d had at the club, noticing your sudden realization that sparked emotion across your face. “Such a defiant girl, I love a good challenge. Now how about we see how I can shatter such an unbreakable soul?”

Taehyung heard Jungkook come to take the bottle from his hands. He didn’t put up any resistance, it wasn’t worth it. In his state, Jungkook would be able to overtake him easily enough anyways.

Everyone was fully aware that if you came back to them, it was going to be in pieces. Whoever took you was going to make sure of that, but they also weren’t going to let you go so easily. Your face was plastered all around town; you were sought after–that made you worth something. Taehyung didn’t want to think about what they thought you were worth, because to him you were worth more than all the money on the face of this stupid planet.

Jungkook wrapped his arms around him, helping him to his feet so he could get to a more comfortable place on the couch. The boy knew as soon as he left Taehyung would be back on the floor with a bottle in his hand anyways, but he couldn’t just sit back and watch that while he was still here.

Taehyung was afraid to blink, so he stared at your face until his eyes watered. If he closed his eyes–even for a second–he’d feel your hands on his neck, your hands choking back his screams to give him bruises that matched yours.

“Taehyung, you need to get some sleep.” Jungkook said, walking to the closet to grab some fresh blankets. Your room was still untouched, your bed exactly as you’d left it. No one had the heart to disturb it yet. To them, that would be a signal that they had given up hope completely–that you’d never be coming back.

The day that they’d have to dress in black for your funeral would be the day that someone would finally lay in that bed.

“Does she get sleep?” Jungkook sighed at Taehyung’s snarl, immediately calming his hyung. Jungkook was aware that most of what came out of Taehyung’s mouth was influenced by the liquor. “Please, just go back to the guys, okay?”

“Are you going to drink again?” Jungkook had tried taking the bottles with him when he left, but Taehyung always managed to acquire more by the time the boy returned to check up on him.

Taehyung rested his elbows on his knees, placing his head in his hands as a low chuckle vibrated his chest. “I finally understand why she drank so much. You know? It makes things easier; I hear less of her screams when I drink. Sometimes I can even imagine that she’s here.”

Jugnkook knew it was hopeless to say anything more, to ask his hyung to sleep, to not drink, to eat, to do anything productive to his own health. So instead he grabbed his bag and headed to the door to slip his shoes on. “I’ll send Jin over with food later, okay? Please just eat it.”

He knew very well that Taehyung wouldn’t.

[victorluvsalice]

AU Thursday: Wonderland Fuzz -- Casting Call! Part 1

All right, I gave you an overview and a few details on the AU last week -- this week, I’m giving you some of my initial ideas on who plays what in this AU, and a couple of notes as to why! This is “Part 1″ because I’m still debating over who in the fandoms fits certain roles best. Got most of them, though! For spoiler and length reasons, everyone past our main two is going under a readmore.

Alice Liddell as Nicholas Angel -- Determined, takes no shit, surprisingly good with weaponry, perhaps tries a little too hard to prove herself sometimes, will not stop when it comes to bringing evil to justice? Alice in a nutshell, baby. And as I stated before, the idea of her as the super-serious super-cop who eventually finds friendship/love and learns how to calm down a bit appeals to me.

Victor Van Dort as Danny Butterman -- Okay, admittedly Danny is pretty much NOTHING like Victor, but hot-gluing a few of his traits onto my boy -- namely his love of action movies -- amuses me. Plus I do headcanon my Victors as the sort who would appreciate having a bit of adventure in their lives (at least before the CB incident), which goes well with Danny's want to experience "real action and shit." Hot Fuzz also doesn't officially have a romance, but -- well. Nicholas was going to have a female love interest (named Victoria, of all things), but she ended up cut -- and her lines given to Danny. With minimal editing, from what I understand. So yeah, everyone (including Pegg, Frost, and Wright) just accepts Nick and Danny enter a relationship at some point. With this being a Valice AU, of course Victor has to be in the "love interest" spot.

Sandford Police Service

William Van Dort as Frank Butterman -- As I said in the first post, the idea of kindly William turning out to be evil just tickles me. He also fits Frank pretty well personality-wise -- they're both fairly affable, make their fair share of dumb jokes, and are inspired largely by their wives' wants (Frank does what he does because his wife so desperately wanted to win Village of the Year that, when Sandford lost at the last minute thanks to some traveling Rromani, she killed herself driving her car off a cliff -- Nell of course will do the same in the backstory of this AU).

The March Hare and the Dormouse (humanized into Marchand Hare and Dormand Mouse) as detectives Andy Wainright and Andy Cartwright (the Andys) -- Duo who are pretty much never seen apart, are clearly best friends with each other against the world, are kind of lazy but capable of good work, can be rude and abrasive but also helpful to the main character? Sounds like March and Dormy to me! The best part is their humanized names keeps both the "March and Dormy" nicknames we're familiar with from Alice stuff, plus the "Andys" nickname from the original movie.

The Hatter (Richard Hatter) as Tony Fisher -- Again, a largely-incompetent fellow who believes himself to be better than he is, but is capable of moments of competence, even genius? Sounds good for Hatter! And Tony regularly begging Nick for help during police work in the movie does kind of remind me of Hatter demanding Alice's help in finding his limbs in A:MR.

Emily (Cartwell) & Victoria Everglot as Doris Thatcher -- Okay, TECHNICALLY only Emily is playing Doris, as she's the one I can see cracking Doris's dirty jokes. The reason Victoria's "sharing" the role is that I wanted her to be part of the station set, but there isn't another woman officer in Sandford, and she's not appropriate for Bob Walker. So Victoria is a new character who patrols with Emily and who everyone just assumes is Emily's best friend. Only Victor (and later Alice) know the truth that they're actually dating. (Yes, Victor did actually date both of them in the past -- William still bugs him to get back together with Victoria.)

Scraps as Saxon -- Saxon's a pretty minor role as the local police dog in Sandford, and as the Alice games have no major dog characters. . .besides, a sleepy town doesn't need a big police dog, now do they? :p

Generals (Bill) Bonesaparte and (Bailey) Wellington as Desk Sergeants Turner -- This one sadly destroys a joke (namely, that there are two Desk Sergeants Turner -- Bill Bailey plays both, and we only see them together at the very end, right before the climax), but it's a minor role, and it seems suited enough to this double-act of general friends. I figure Bonesaparte, being the chattier of the two, would be the Night Sergeant (who's neater and talks more), and Wellington would be the Day.

Neighborhood Watch Alliance

Barkis Bittern as Simon Skinner -- Cripes, this was simple. Skinner is set up as basically Obviously Evil from the word "go," and since Barkis comes off the same way. . . They share the same smarmy "charm" and vaguely threatening air. Plus Barkis getting a model church spire through the chin is pretty easy with the size of his. XD (I BRIEFLY considered making Bumby Skinner early on, but then decided to keep him in Alice's backstory. Skinner is supposed to be kind of funny too, and that's easier with Barkis than it is with Bumby.)

Finis and Maudeline Everglot as Joyce and Bernard Cooper -- There's two main married couples in the movie, and I felt the Everglots fit this pair better. The Coopers run the hotel Nick stays at for the majority of the movie -- I could see slightly-less-snooty (or more desperate) Everglots converting their mansion into a hotel for the cash. And Maudeline well fits the "fascist"/"hag" gag that pops up between Joyce and Nick (she's doing a crossword when they first meet -- "facist" and "hag" are answers in it). I might have to switch their roles in the big finale, though -- Joyce uses a gun and Bernard a sword, but it makes more sense for gun-loving Finis to shoot at Alice.

Paul and Ms. Plum (Paul and Jane Plum) as Roy and Mary Porter -- This is the other main married couple -- as they run a bar, The Crown, I figured using some of the staff of the Ball & Socket would be appropriate. Paul's the character most associated with serving drinks in CB, and Plum the main female character of the B&S, so there you go! ...Actually, thinking about it, given that Roy is taken out during the climax via a bear trap to the head -- yeah, definitely has to be Paul. XD

Pastor (Christopher) Galswells as Reverend Philip Shooter -- Just fitting the two religious figures together here. Galswells is a sterner figure than Shooter, but that should just make him shouting "Fuck off, grasshopper" and pulling guns in the final battle all the more hilarious. XD

Murder Victims

Carpenter (Bruno Carpenter) as Martin Blower -- This was easy -- Martin is an absolutely awful actor (the version of Romeo & Juliet he stages is PRICELESS), so there was no competition for this role. Though somehow I think Carpenter is going to be an even bigger ham than he was. At least Martin never made up words. XD

Walrus (Walter Russo) as Eve Draper -- Eve's no great shakes as a thespian herself, which is a decent fit for Walrus -- as is her general annoying personality (she specifically has an awful laugh, which I'll probably give Walter). Eve and Martin are also in a relationship in the movie, so this is a great way to keep the Walrus and the Carpenter together.

The Town Crier (Tom Crier) as Tim Messenger -- I was stuck for a while as to who should be the town's local reporter -- then FINALLY I realized "oh hey, there's a character in Corpse Bride who's only role is to SPREAD THE NEWS." So that works! I even have the built-in quirk of him ALWAYS SPEAKING AT TOP VOLUME.

The Queen of Hearts/Red Queen (Rose Queen) as Leslie Tiller -- I was also stuck on this role for a bit -- Leslie is a local, super-skilled florist, and has a minor but important role of telling Nick some crucial information before she's killed. After some thought, I decided the Queen was a good fit for three reasons:

A) Both the Queen of Hearts and the Red Queen (of which the game Queen is an algamation) are associated with gardening/flowers (the famous "painting the roses red" bit, and the Looking Glass garden where the Red Queen first appears)

B) The Queen's big bit in A:MR is giving Alice some crucial information (her domain's big memory confirms it was Bumby who killed Alice's family, and she encourages Alice to look more at what's around her, which probably helps her realize how Bumby's been abusing the children)

C) Leslie's also a NWA member, and the Queen is the main villain in AMA. Leslie is murdered for wanting to move (they didn't want another village getting her skills), while the Queen is eclipsed by the bigger evil of Bumby's Dollmaker. Pretty damn good fit in the end!

Other

Charlie, The Insane Children, Skeleton Boy, and Skeleton Girl as The Hoodies -- The Hoodies are actually teenagers/tweens, so they'd have to be aged up a bit, but I figured this was a good place to stick most of the children from both the Alice games and Corpse Bride. The Insane Children and Skeleton Boy and Girl certainly seem up for the mischief they perpetrate, and for helping Alice out in the end. Charlie, being the only one of the lot with a canonical name, might have the pleasure of being the Hoodie Leader (aka Gabriel Weaver -- the subplot about him being the grandson of NWA member Tom Weaver was cut, but anything can happen in an AU).

Solemn Village Boy as Aaron A. Aaronson -- I almost gave this role to Charlie, but then I realized I could keep the joke with Aaron's name if I made him the unnamed Solemn Village boy from Corpse Bride instead. And as the joke (and being Skinner's brief hostage before biting the jerk) is really Aaron's only point to being in the movie...

The Houndsditch Children as the Underage Bar Patrons -- Again, aged up to teenagers. It seemed like overkill to stick the Houndsditch kids in with the Hoodies, and the bratty responses most of the patrons give suit the bratty nature of the Houndsditch lot. Also the fact that something horrible happens to them in the end (the kids start misbehaving when Angel ejects them from the bar, and the NWA kills ANYONE who makes the town look bad...).

Emil as Tina -- Once again replacing a woman with a man, but this is a minor role focused on being a helper (Tina is Skinner's secretary, who spends most of her time lounging at his desk), and we all know Emil the super-butler is good at that. We'd just have to take out the part where he's also a dancer at a club. (Or we could leave it in and have everyone be weirded out.) This also has the amusing consequence of him being taken out at least partially by his canonical employers' daughter. XD

Maggot and Black Widow (Enn Maggon and Betty Black) as Greg and Sheree Prosser -- These are background characters noted as being better actors than Martin and Eve; might as well fill their roles with some of Emily's comic relief friends, right? They're also minor NWA members, so that helps keeps the ranks appropriately Burtony.

Nan Sharpe as Janine -- Sort of -- Nan is not Alice's former girlfriend, as Janine was for Nick! Instead, Nan retains her role as Alice's old nanny, who she goes to talk to after gets she gets promoted/transferred. Nan's the one who tells her she needs to find someone who helps her "switch off," thus setting up the eventual Alice/Victor romance. It's a minor role, but it seems well-suited for Nan (especially since I've already cast the other role she could have -- dirty-minded Doris).

Tim Burton, Mike Johnson, and American McGee as The Met's Sergeant, Inspector, and Chief Inspector Kenneth -- These characters have the minor but important role of sending Nick to Sandford in the original film (for making everyone else look bad), so I just thought it would be funny I used the directors of CB and the mind behind the Alice games for them.

[stilljumpingback]

(via Black Sails Episode 302 - XX)

Black Sails Episode 302 - XX Review

WELL-FORMED THOUGHTS

One of season 3’s central themes is leadership, and in this episode we see how a Seasoned Leader and a New Leader cope with the reality of losing people under their care.

When it becomes clear that the top sail’s inability to come down will jeopardize the safety of the entire ship, Flint crawls across the deck to cut it loose, dooming men to fly into the sea with it.  He pauses for a moment, staring up at the men before he begins chopping the rope.  I read that as him acknowledging the consequences of his actions by seeing the men, but moving forward with no real hesitation.

In contrast, Silver finds himself stuck below deck with Muldoon, who drowns when he is trapped by ship parts and water rushes in through several holes.  Silver does everything he can to save his crew mate, ultimately holding his hand while he dies.  In fact, he holds it long after until someone else opens the hatch from above.

It isn’t that Flint or Silver has the better reaction.  Silver’s intimate connection to Muldoon’s death is obviously beautiful, but it is also the experience of one new to leadership.  Silver treats his crew mates as friends, whereas Flint has learned to emotionally distance himself from those he leads.  Suddenly the callousness he is so often accused of makes sense, and we are left wondering if Silver will toughen up, Flint soften, or if a middle ground exists between them.

FRAGMENTED THOUGHTS

Our absolutely stunningly blue intro quickly becomes creepy when Flint dreams that Miranda’s corpse crawls onto his ship and below deck.  I have a theory that her appearances become less horrific as Flint processes his grief, and right now it is bad.

As Flint sails directly into the storm with full sails, he sends men into the rigging so that they can bring the sails down as soon as Hornigold gives up the chase.  He asks Billy to lead them, and Billy hesitates for a moment.  I can’t help but wonder if he is remembering the last storm during which he did something dangerous with Flint…

“Flint had them exactly where he needed them: angry, resentful, afraid.  I understand why they would rather do battle with that storm, but he had me there too.  He had me there.  And that is not supposed to happen.”

Silver is unnerved by Flint’s power and how he, along with the men, was totally swept away by the speech at the end of the last episode.  He says “that is not supposed to happen” and I wonder if he is worrying about his role as quartermaster or his personal objectivity.

We meet Mrs. Hudson, and I immediately love her for calling out Eleanor’s privilege.

“My understanding is that your father built a criminal enterprise and you inherited it.  The only difference between you and the ladies I have served in the past is their families had better lawyers.”

Woodes Rogers shows off the fleet to Eleanor and tells her that he will send her back to London the moment he doubts her usefulness.  She calls his bluff with an amazing, “You don’t know, you don’t know, you don’t know…but I do.  To slay Nassau, you must know her.”

The scene between Silver and Muldoon while they plug holes below decks is so lovely.  Silver is desperate not to feel useless, and Muldoon tries to convince him that leg or not, he’s integral to the crew.  They share real vulnerabilities with each other, and they could have been such good friends if only!

Muldoon:  What part of ‘let us take care of you’ did you not understand?  If it wasn’t for you, we’d all be planted at the bottom of the Charles Town bay. We got a debt for that.  It ain’t right not to let us pay it. Silver:  All the shit we been through the last few months, do you wanna know what the most terrifying part of all of it’s been?  ‘We’ll take care of you.’ Muldoon:  I get it. Silver:  Do you? Muldoon:  Course I do.  Look at me.  I know what it’s like to be afraid of being the one ain’t strong enough to stick.  But it don’t work that way here. And even if it did, it wouldn’t work like that for you.

Hearing Eleanor’s backstory of how she took over her father’s business as a 17-year-old girl by identifying her strongest opponent (Teach) and kicking him off the island makes me love her even more!!  Woodes Rogers is clearly very impressed with her too, though when he realizes she and Vane were lovers, he thinks her plan to make Vane a pardon exception is a lover’s quarrel.  Instead, Eleanor lays out a very concise description of the various kinds of pirates in Nassau.

“I know Flint is dangerous, but he can be reasoned with.  I know Rackham is devious, but all he cares about is his legacy.  And because I have history with Charles Vane, I know him most of all.  I’m all too aware what he is capable of destroying when he sets his mind on it.”

Of course, she is operating under pre-209 knowledge.  Is Flint capable of being reasoned with anymore?  And is Vane quite so destructive?

Her comment about mutual self-interest creating better partners sounds a lot like season one Silver.

The “slaves rebuilding the fort” plot continues to make me mad.  Vane (though none of his men) works alongside the slaves, but Mr. Scott (!!) tells him to stop in order to avoid a confusion of roles.  Which??  Nassau is a place where roles are reversed!  For everyone but black slaves, apparently.

Teach confronts Vane in THE most dramatic way possible, sliding a sword through a linen wall and under his throat, only to wind up hugging his old son surrogate.  It is so theatric, and I love it.

Jack’s expression when he sees Teach is priceless, especially after Teach says “Jack Rackham” out loud.  “That’s my name,” he responds in the world’s tiniest, most awestruck voice.

Unfortunately, Teach is very unimpressed by Nassau, and I am very unimpressed by his “good ol’ days” attitude.  Jack is talking about Nassau needing an identity, and Vane is talking about pirate alliances, but Teach wants it to return to its old lawless state.  Although I admit he has a point that the influx of Urca gold has made Nassau weak, his complaints do not take into consideration the very real threat of England’s return.

Although the sails are now down, the Walrus must still fight against the storm pushing them back into Hornigold’s path.  Billy takes everyone below, except for Flint, who is tied to the wheel alone and did I already mention WOW.

Hornigold arrives on Woodes Roger’s ship and is super annoyed that Eleanor has found a way back into his life (her appearance is such a gloriously non-verbal ‘fuck you’ to him).  He produces the Walrus’s pirate flag as evidence that Captain Flint is dead.

Not so!  He’s only dreaming that he met death.  When he awakes, he immediately knows that they’re not moving.  They’re becalmed, and with very few supplies.  Yikes!

[loco4scandal]

Don't ask me to trade a war for a  wife. Black Sails Eppy 8

I remember watching the above scene from 4x1. In the scene, Captain Flint has given the abandon ship command and Silver is assisting Kofi and Obi with getting Madi off of the ship. The emotion you see in the pictures above are Silver, at first, cajoling her to go ahead with him and Madi demanding that he “get on the ladder”. I loved this scene, but was a little taken aback by it at first. Mostly, due to the fact that Kofi and Obi had things handled. They were more than capable of getting Madi in the longboat. So why did Silver see to her safety personally? Also, why would Madi object to him staying to see to the safety of his men. Silver is the crew’s Quatermaster. He has a duty and if anyone understands the word “duty” it’s Madi. Well, we later find out why the scene played out as it did. In a flashback, it was revealed that Silver and Madi were lovers. However, after watching episode 8, Silver reveals that she is much more than that.

Episode Eight starts with a man riding on a dark road. When we see his face, we recognize that it is Woodes Rogers and he looks to be at Miranda’s burned out villa. He ends up in Flint’s library clearly looking for a specific book. After Rogers returns to Nassau, we see him with Billy. Rogers puts a gun to Billy’s head to remind him of their intertwined fates and I can’t help but wonder if Billy finally realizes that allying himself with this monster was a bad idea? Anyhoo, the book that Billy sent Rogers after is a Avery’s diary and it looks to have map drawings in it. Billy than goes on to tell Rogers the story of Flints and Gate’s friendship and alludes to Flint and Silver’s friendship having a similar outcome. 

~ That’s how close Mr. Gates was to Flint. Stored his most prized possessions in his cellar. Avery’s journals. Despite that measure of trust, all it took was a disagreement over a little money for Flint to kill him. There are no two people close enough that something cannot separate them. Some point at which they were never fully connected to begin with. It happened with Gates and Flint. It will happen with Flint and Silver. You wanted someplace you could exchange the money off the island. There it is. You will lead them there and they will follow you ~ Billy

In the next scene Silver is sitting alone on the Walrus in the dark. Flint enters and tells him that Kofi and his men are on their way to Nassau to attempt Madi’s rescue. Flint gives a confident rundown of the rescue plan. You can tell that he has absolute certainty that it will be successful or more likely that he is trying to convince Silver that it will be. Silver after listening to this finally responds…

~ What happens after all of it? Assume your plan succeeds and we retrieve her alive. Assume your war begins… spreads throughout the New World. I saw what came of Nassau when it was touched by it. The first instant it was deprived of Eleanor Guthrie’s commerce or Jack Rackham’s prosperity or Woodes Roger’s oppression. There’s nothing in Nasau, but horror. You said it  was just a transition. That something better lay beyond it, something meaningful But what if that isn’t so? What is the result of this war isn’t beyond the horror? What if it is the horror itself?  Have you given this any thought at all?~ Silver

~ If we are to truly reach a moment where we might be finished with England cleared away to make room for something else… there most certainly lies a dark moment between here and there. A moment of terror. Where everything appears to be without hope. I know this. But I cannot believe that that is all there is. I cannot believe we are so poorly made as that. Incapable of surviving in the state to which we were born. Grown so used to the yoke that there can be no progress without it. ~ Flint

~ It’s a lot to ask… to wager so much suffering on blind faith. ~ Silver

~ Well, it isn’t entirely faith. We’ll have the right people in place to lead us through it and hold the world together while it finds its balance. ~ Flint

~ You think so much of what you and I can accomplish together. ~ Silver

~ You and her. You and Madi. She’s as wise as her father. She’s as strong as her mother. There isn’t a man or woman in Nassau who’d argue that she isn’t the best of all of them. The cache is critical to our war, but so is she. Critical to holding our alliance together. We absolutely must get her back alive. ~ Flint

~ And you think I’m the one best suited to lead our people through this?~ Silver

~ I think you are the best of us. The two of you together are the world in balance.~ Flint

Yes, I know that was a lengthy dialogue, but I wanted to type out every word. It’s important to analyze all that’s at play here. In Sliver and Flint’s last conversation, Flint flat out expressed that “his war” was more important than Madi’s life. I didn’t imagine it. So why now is he expressing that Madi is critical to the success of the New World? Why is he saying that she and Silver will lead the people together? What happened to WE, meaning he and Silver? Well… Flint realizes the WE, really is Silver + Madi. Silver no longer exists outside of Madi. It has become clear to Flint that they are joined and later in the episode, we’ll find out just how much so. So… Flint played the only card he could…. I stand wholeheartedly behind the two of you… until he doesn’t.

Morning comes and we see Silver and Flint on the deck of the Walrus. They are surprised that Roger’s ship is anchored behind them and has clearly been there for awhile. The two watch in horror as Kofi and his men are brought above deck. So clearly, the rescue mission failed. Next, Madi is brought above deck and Silver looks on in relief that his love is truly alive. However in the next minute it goes all terribly wrong. Kofi is brought forward and shot in the head, so are his men. Flint commands his men to bring the ship around so they can raise the guns. A scare tactic of sorts but Silver says fuck that. He is over this shit and demand’s Hands to get the cache. Then he looks at Flint like yes motherfucka, I tried to tell you. My love will not be dying for this war. Then in a minute, that truly stopped mine and Silver’s heart, Madi is marched forward to be executed. However, just in time, Joji arrives with the treasure. Rogers sees and stops the execution. Then Silver tells the crew to follow Roger’s ship. So, again the Queen proves that she has nine lives.

Well, I’m sure that we all realize that shit hit the fan after that and the fiery exchange that happens between Silver and Flint next was mind blowing…

~ Of course, I love her. I let you try your way, but I am through wagering with her life now. If what it takes to secure her release is to turn over the cache, I’m very glad I brought it with us.~ Silver

~We had it. We had it in our hands. This war was breathing air, it was alive. Now Julius is back in that camp, pointing to a hole in the ground, telling anyone that will listen “This is what it looks like when you trust a pirate.” Yesterday he had nothing. He was shouting in the rain. Now you’ve given him all he needs to kill this war dead.~ Flint

~ My God. The number of times I have followed you blindly, backed you with the men blindly, put me in the fucking ground. Good men, friends because you said “I know the way. Don’t ask me how. Just do as I say.” I may not have understood it. I may not have supported it, but I did it. And God damn it, right now you’re going to return the favor! We will find a way to put it all back together with whatever we have left at our disposal. But do not ask me to choose between a war and a wife. I do not think you’re going to like the answer. Whatever must be done to secure Madi’s release, I am going to do. I do not expect your understanding, but I demand your support. As my partner. As my friend. Do I have it? Do I have it? ~ Silver

~ Yes~ Flint

Wait…. What…. Did Silver just say “ wife”? Did he just refer to Madi as his wife?  How? When? Where? Talk about a bombshell. Remember when we were all analyzing Madi’s ring and the fact that she was rubbing it after Silver was “presumed dead”? Well, now we have our answer. Guy’s you know how I love a good parallel, right? Well… think back to when Rogers told Berringer to have my wife brought to me. Most assumed that his wife was there from England. Then…. Eleanor appears. Well here is another parallel between Madi and Eleanor. Both married, both surprises.  Boy, do I need the details behind this declaration.

Later on we see, Silver and Hands talking. Hands is doing what he does best reminding Silver that Flint ain’t shit and that he will clap back at Silver for going against him. Forever loyal, Silver shuts him down,.

~ If you leave him alive long enough, he’s going to make you pay for it.~ Hands

~ He won’t move against me. This will pass. And that’s the end of this conversation.~ Silver

~ So many lies to deny a simple truth.~ Hands

~What?~ Silver

~ The crown does not divide. It cannot be shared. You know it. You want it done. You just don’t know how to ask yet. ~ Hands

~ Hear me very clearly. There is no hidden message and no equivocation. You will make no move against him. You will not speak of doing so to any man on this crew nor to me again. Do it and you’ll answer for it.~ Silver

I don’t care if Hands is a psychotic killer. Yeah he slit a 9 years olds throat. Slitting throats is like his favorite past time, actually. Yet, I don’t give a fuck. I love him. He is the friend, crazy ass uncle, mad dog, just pick an adjective person that you need in your life and I do not care. He is riding for John harder than anyone other than Madi and I am here for it.

The interesting part of this exchange with Hands is that at the exact moment that Silver is forbidding Hands to hurt Flint, Flint is selling Dooley a ghost tale. One in which Silver has been compromised and Flint needs a new partner. So, Flint convinces Dooley to help him remove the cache from the Walrus and bury it in an undisclosed location on Skeleton Island. Everything is going according to plan until Hands shows up. I repeat, I love him.

Remember, when Silver told Hands not to hurt a hair on Flint’s head. Well, Hands didn’t when he saw Flint and Dooley stealing the cache.

~ I knew it would come to this. I tried to tell him. We fight. Only two outcomes, I can see. I die or you die. Either way, he’s going to take me to blame for it. That’s how far you’ve burrowed into his head. He won’t put you out of it until he sees you for what you are. Go. ~ Hands

Hands was second in command to Blackbeard.  Flint’s true nature doesn’t surprise him. He is accustomed to madmen willing to watch the world burn for their own selfish desires. He identified that in Flint the moment that he encountered him. He’s tried to tell Silver repeatedly, but John’s loyalty wouldn’t let him believe. So Hands shows him, by taking him on deck and standing back as he watched Flint and Dooley pull the cache to shore. Silver finally has no choice but to acknowledge that the man that he has followed blindly for so long happily signed his wife’s death sentence.

As a result of Flint’s betrayal, Silver has no choice but to parlay with Woodes Rogers. Can I say that watching Silver hoist himself over Roger’s ship railing and walk defiantly to face Rogers left me in a puddle. Like Silver in that moment was just pure walking sex and I momentarily forgot that the Queen was in danger. It was hot!  So back to the point. Silver tells Rogers that Flint has absconded with the cache and he has sent six of his best men to run him down. So basically your bitch ass better not think of hurting the missus, before I can get you your damn cache.

Then… Billy happened. Lawd, I hate Billy. Honestly, I think I hate Billy more than Flint at the moment. Flint was always shit. I expected more from Billy though. And true to bitch ass form he challenged Silver to tell everything and the Pirate King did…

~ I instructed them to kill Captain Flint.  ~ Silver

Well there you have it folks. Long John Silver  warned Flint not to ask him to choose between a war and a wife. He warned him that he wouldn’t like the answer. And the answer is John telling Hands to slit his throat. Again, Hands is Silver’s psycho bestie so I’m okay with that. Handle your business, Israel.

Black Sails writers thank you for this episode. How could we have known that we'd  get confirmation of Mrs. Madi Silver and Flint’s betrayal all in one episode. Good times. Also, thank you again for Luke going over that railing. Shallow, I know, but thank you all the same. Can somebody gif that, cause (swallows).

R.I.P Kofi. You were fierce and fine and deserved so much more than dying because Billy is a bitch ass. Silver is going to take care of that for you though. Death by stroke is forthcoming.