#GOD YOU KNOW ITS BAD OUT HERE WHEN I THINK *GEOFF* DID SOMETHING RIGHT. GOD. GOD

[mamawasatesttube]

timcassie is so compelling to me. they were not into each other even a little bit. it was such a messy coping mechanism fuelled entirely by grief. they were making out with each other because they were both substituting each other for kon. cassie was far more aware she was doing this than tim was. unironically, dating a girl here is one of the gayest things tim has done

#rimi talks #it is SO messy and its so fun. i don't think geoff even realized the implications but they sure are there when you read it #god... you know its BAD when modern comics have me missing tt03 of all Fucking comics #but like. todays ''tell don't show'' writers would N E V E R do something this interesting #tom taylor would be all. oh! tim we shouldn't kiss. i'm just substituting you for kon because i miss him and you were his best friend! #and then he'd have tim go oh wow cassie you're right i didn't realize that! my bad. all forgiven? yay!!! :) #GOD YOU KNOW ITS BAD OUT HERE WHEN I THINK *GEOFF* DID SOMETHING RIGHT. GOD. GOD #GEOFF MY MORTAL ENEMY GEOFF. grits teeth yeah geoffrey i have to give you this one............ #its just such a deliciously unhealthy coping mechanism. theyre a MESS. theyre using each other. theyre only able to go on bc of each other #its not a romance but it IS a codependency #bart isn't even dead yet when this happens. like. he's just off being the flash. #bart (extremely depressed bc he couldnt stop sbp and hold him in the speed force forever): :| ok #not his circus. not his monkeys. #well it is his monkeys even if he left the circus. but he's too depressed to deal with it #but its so fun. this relationship is haunted. there's a ghost in the middle. they both want to kiss him instead of each other. #tim #cassie #timcassie

[mamawolfblood]

Total drama Surprise

14 Brunch of Disgustingness

Chris: Last time on Total Drama Island… A note from a secret admirer got Gwen and Bridgette up in each other’s business. DJ accidentally knocked his boy Trent off the airplane, sending him deep into the Earth’s crust. Leshawna showed everybody how to hang on for dear life on the moose ride. Harold showed himself to be an ace flag-catcher, until he caught sight of Heather’s… unmentionables, causing him to crash his way right off the island, but not without a little canoodling time with the fair Leshawna. And now, let’s see what’s in store for our campers on this week’s episode of Total. Drama. Island!

Iris found it odd that Chef did want her help today for breakfast. Walking and sat on the dock looking at the moon. It was calm a peaceful just the gentle sound of water. "You couldn't sleep either?" Duncan said making the teen jump. He chuckled sitting behind me. His arms wrapped me into a warm embrace. His chin ontop of her head. No words needed to be spoken they just watch the sun rise.

It was something she didn't want to end but nothing lasts forever. The campers made their way to the mess hall. Before Iris could enter Duncan grabbed her arm. "Duncan what is it?" She asked looking up at him. But the carage he gathered soon turned to cold feet making him let go. "Nothing let's see what your dad has up his sleeve today." Damb so close but no big deal. The girl thought stepping inside sitting with her team.

Iris pov

My dad  Was acting weird whenever someone tried to ask about food.  Chef would snicker and laugh along with him. " OK seriously enough, what is wrong with the two of you?" I asked making them look at me. Its no secret I get cranky when I don't get food.

Chris: Congratulations to the remaining ten campers for reaching the halfway mark in the competition! You’ll all be on the jury for the final episode.

Geoff: We got the power! Yeah!

Chris: The two teams will become one next week. But first, all the girls will be moved to the Gopher cabin and all the guys will stay in the Bass cabin. This week’s challenge is as old as history itself. A battle of the sexes [Lindsay blows a raspberry at the guys] After everyone is settled in, I’ll announce the challenge. And then, you’ll have an uh… bite to eat.[He and Chef snicker] Ready for a little good news? This week, no one will be kicked off. [everyone cheers] It’s all for reward and it’s a good one. Okay, time to relocate. Let’s move! [He and Chef snicker]

Heather started kissing up to Bridgette. It was sickening to watch so I got up and left.

(Confessional: Bridgette)

Bridgette: I was a bit worried about being the only new girl on the team. Then I figured it can’t be that bad. I don’t buy that hype about how well guys get along and how catty girls can be.

(Confessional Off)

I was sitting outside when Bridgette walked over. "Hi Bridgette have fun in the lions den." I said before laughing.

Leshawna: Nobody’s leaving until I find out who ate my pudding pockets!

Heather: I ate them. So what?

Leshawna: Whoa! Pump the brakes a minute! You’re “so what”ing me? That’s my food. No one touches my food!

Heather: Whatever, deal with it. It serves you right for leaving your junk everywhere, especially that. That is bugging me.

Leshawna: Yeah, it’d bug me too if I didn’t have anything in the front or in the back to shake.

Heather: Yeah? Well, you’ve got so much junk in your trunk, your jeans should come with a trash compactor!

Leshawna: Ooh! You want a piece of this?

Bridgette: Uh-oh.

Heather: Bridgette! It’s so good to see you! Come in, come in! Welcome to our cabin. We’re like a big family in here.

Gwen: Big and dysfunctional.

Heather: Anything you need, just yell.

Bridgette: Thanks for the awesome welcome, Heather.

Lindsay: Welcome to the club! It’ll be so much fun! As long as you do everything Heather says. Ow!

Heather [after she laughs] : Yeah, we love joking around here at girls cabin. I made sure your bunk was next to mine–

Lindsay: Hey! That’s my bed. Ow!

Heather: So we can talk and share and really get to know each other.

Bridgette: Okay, yeah! Hey, thanks everybody, I can’t wait to get to know all of–

Heather: Okay! Plenty of time to chat later! Let’s unpack.

Lindsay: This is great! I bet we’re getting along way better than the guys.

I honestly hope things are going well. This den of vipers is about to explode. If on cue I heard this.

Bridgette: Let’s build bridges, not walls!

Heather: Take your pick.

dramatic music plays as Bridgette picks Gwen and Leshwana's side

Heather: You just dug your own grave.

Bridgette: Let’s try to get along, okay? Otherwise, the guys are going to cream us, don’t you get it? Tough room.

[Chef and Chris snicker]

Heather: Stop doing that!

Chris: Let’s just tell them… Today’s challenge is… The Brunch of Disgustingness! You’ll be getting a nine-course meal. Each member of each team must finish each dish. You will not know if the next dish is grosser than the last, not as gross, or just as gross. Just that it’ll likely be… gross.

Chef: Tell them what they’ll get if they win, Chris!

Chris: The winning team spends two days at a local five-star resort where they’ll be pampered, eat gourmet nosh, and be given antibiotics against anything they may have caught while participating in this challenge! The losing team will go hungry tonight and spend the next two days here. On Total Drama Island. With Chef.

The first round was bull testicles and the point went to the girls. Oh those boys could handle a little meatball.

Chris: The score now stands at one for the girls and zero for the guys! And now, the next course in… The Brunch of Disgustingness! You guys like pizza?

Owen: I could eat pizza any time with anything on it!

Chris: Anything? How about live grasshopper pizza with tangy jellyfish sauce and live anchovies?

Owen: I could eat pizza any time with anything on it!

Chris: How about live grasshopper pizza with tangy jellyfish sauce and live anchovies?

Ok even I thought it was gross please do let me get sick.

Leshawna couldn't eat it giving the guys a point making us tied. The girls freaked on her but honestly not a big deal. "Guys its not a big deal. We will win the next round so stop complaining.

(Confessional: Chef)

Chef: I was excited about the next dish. I made it from scratch.

(Confessional Off)

Chris: All right, who’s ready for the third course? Spaghetti! Well, actually, Earthworms covered in snail slime sauce and hairballs.

I barfed when it was placed infront of me.

(Confessional )

Iris- WHO THE FUCK THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?! THIS SHIT IS FUCKING DISGUSTING!

*static *

(End of Confessionals)

The guys got another point and now I am getting aggravated.

Chris: All right everybody. Time for course number four. No nine-course meal would be complete without soup. Today’s special is French Bunyon soup with hangnail crackers.

(Confessional: Geoff)

Geoff: I think they just use stuff from Chef’s bathroom floor.

(Confessional Off)

Bridgette gasps

DJ strains to eat

Trent gags

Lindsay: I didn’t even taste it.

Chris: The girls win again![Gwen, Heather, Leshawna, and Lindsay cheer] The score’s now tied up at two.

(Confessional: Bridgette)

Bridgette: I think the girls really made a breakthrough as a team.

(Confessional Off)

The rounds continue and the barfing too. But we made it to the final round.

"Oh god I think I'm going to be sick." I said trying to hold it down but I dont think I can.

C

hris: Wow, it’s still tied up. We’re down to the last course in the challenge. It’s delicious dolphin wieners. Hot dogs made of dolphin.

Bridgette [after she gasps] : But dolphins are our friends!

Heather: What are you waiting for? It’s already dead. If you don’t eat it, we don’t win.

Bridgette: Ooh, I can’t! I’m a surfer! I swim with dolphins!

Heather: Eat it!

Bridgette: No! I’m not doing it. You can’t pressure me.

The hell we can't grabbing a hot dog off the plate, and then proceeded to shove it down her throat.

"I'M NOT LOSING THIS BECAUSE YOU CAN'T GROW A PAIR! THE DAMB THING IS DEAD SO SUCK IT UP AND STUFF YOU FUCKING FACE!" They all looked at me Bridgette had tears in her eyes. She coughed it all up.

DJ: I’m with you sister. I’m not eating no dolphin.

(Confessional : Chef)

Chef: I slave over a hot stove cooking dolphin. No appreciation!

(Confessional Off)

Chris: Okay, enough. We’ll solve this by having an eat-off. The one who can drink the most shot glasses of fresh, delicious blended cockroach will be the winner. This unlikely satisfying blend of eight different cockroaches is vitamin rich for your balanced lifestyle. On your mark, get set, go!

Owen and Leshwana drink the cockroaches.

Leshawna groans two times

Chris: Owen wins!

DJ, Duncan, Geoff, and Trent cheer

Leshawna groans

Heather: Leshawna, you are completely useless!

Leshawna: Oh, uh-oh, something’s coming up. [puking]

DJ pukes

Trent:pukes

Chef: Grr… [retches]

Chris retches

Duncan and Geoff Puke

The “elimination” music plays.

Chris: The guys are the big winners today. And the girls go their separate ways. Two definitive cliques have been cemented. [Heather grunts and the door rattles] For now. What shocking surprises are in store for our campers next week as they head for the big merge? Tune in on Total. Drama. Island!

#romance #original characters #oc #jealousy #fanfiction #td heather #td gwen #td chef #td trent #tdi chris #total drama #total drama leshawna #total drama island

[writerofshit]

Secret Santa:X

(This is half headcanon, half fic, all fun times and emotions)

(Shoutout to the Penthouse discord server for help on some of the gifts, would have been lost without you)

The last Christmas they have in the penthouse, Ryan brings up Secret Santa again. It’s partly a joke, partly a nod to the nostalgia that’s been eating at all of them the last few months. He brings it up when they’re all gathered in the living room, watching Gavin try and prove his stealth abilities in Hitman.

(“Just because you can be stealthy in a video game doesn’t mean I’m letting you come with me.” Jack had said at the beginning of it all.

“If I get silent assassin you have to take me!”

“This is your fourth run through!”)

Anyhow, Ryan brings it up, all nonchalant. “Remember that year we did Secret Santa?”

“No?” Jeremy says honestly.

“Before your time.” Michael says with a smile, patting him on the head.

“It was fun. We should do it again.”

(”Goddamnit!” On screen, Gavin dies again.)

The next day they have a meeting of all the ‘movers and shakers’, as Geoff has taken to calling them. He announces that Secret Santa is yet again a thing, and no, Matt, you can’t get out of it. There’s no budget, because they all have access to more money than they know what to do with.

They throw eleven names in a hat and go from there. Geoff calls first pick because he’s an asshole like that, and his choice picks next, so on and so forth.

 “Just get your shit done by Christmas, and we’ll do it then.”

--

Geoff pulls Gavin, and only panics a little.

The kid has everything he could ever want, what’s he really supposed to do? He considers what he might need, ends up crossing ‘bulletproof vest and a helmet’ off the list because it feels a little impersonal. He could do liquor of some sort, but he suspects there will be enough of that floating around on Christmas day.

He considers a camera, knows Gavin is into that kind of shit, but he’s lost a lot of knowledge in that department over the years. The only person who knows enough is Gavin himself, and that kind of defeats the point.

He ends up going for a new pair of gold shades, because the old ones are pretty worn out after six-plus years, and he’s almost positive Gavin has lost them. (Probably in Ryan’s room, but that’s neither here nor there) He gets a pair that have diamonds along the arms, and even though they’re ridiculously expensive he thinks it’s worth it.

Gavin adores them, has them on within 30 seconds of unwrapping them. He pokes himself in the eye, and that feels like a bonus to Geoff.

--

Gavin pulls Trevor, and while he plays it off at first “Oh, this will be easy, I got this person for sure!” he absolutely has no idea what to do.

 There’s a weird bit of time where he tries to get to know Trevor better. He learns absolutely nothing new, despite following the guy for almost a week.

There’s a night he lays in bed with Ryan, bitching about this whole thing. “What the hell do I do? This was terrible for me last time, why would you suggest this?”

He ends up calling Barbara from the Roosters to try and figure out something, who promptly makes fun of him for not knowing anything about the guy he’s worked with for years. She does give one bit of new information, so he goes with it.

He gives Trevor tickets to the next Motocross event, because it’s apparently something he’s into. He throws in a NASA t-shirt as a joke, a nod to the world Trevor left behind.

Both items go over well, Trevor immediately pulling the shirt on over what he’s already wearing. He won’t shut up about Motocross for the rest of the day, either.

--

Trevor pulls Ryan, which he’s immediately terrified of.

 He knows Ryan well enough to know that there won’t be any serious repercussions if he fucks it up, he won’t get gutted over a poor gift choice. But he also knows he’ll get that weird stare Ryan does when he’s pretending to consider whether or not to hurt someone. Plus he won’t live it down from the rest of the crew.

At first he goes to Gavin for help, because apparently nobody is taking the ‘secret’ part seriously. Gavin absolutely refuses to help him, mostly for the laughs. He knows Gavin’s getting a kick out of watching him squirm over this, which is so unfair. Then he asks Jack for help, who just shrugs. 

“You’re a smart guy, Trevor, you’ll figure something out.”

He does, sort of. He gives Ryan a 24 pack of diet coke (because what else?) and an actually beautiful rainbow knife. It seems pretty heavy duty, and he knows its right up his alley. He also throws in some earplugs as a joke.

 “So you can tune out Gav’s idiocy whenever you need.”

“Come on, Trevor. I’ve had years of practice at that. The knife is gorgeous though.”

--

Ryan pulls Alfredo, and he’s not too worried about it.

Alfredo’s their go-to sniper these days, and a new sniper rifle seems pretty obvious. Maybe a gift card to Ammunation or something? It does feel a little lackluster, even to him, so he brings it up to Gavin one night, while Gav is still debating t-shirts from Amazon.

“That’s a bit boring, isn’t it?”

“You’re buying a NASA shirt for an ex-aerospace engineer. I’m gonna need you to rethink your stance on this one.”

“Nah. You gotta do something better for Fredo, he deserves it.”

Which. alright, then what the fuck is he supposed to do? He gets his answer the next week when he sees Alfredo on a motorcycle for the first time.

“I’m going to teach you how to actually ride that thing.” Which is good, a chance to catch up and hang out. Bad, because Ryan’s method of teaching is ‘learn by doing’ and does in fact result in shouting.

Ryan still gives him the sniper rifle, which he is far more excited about.

--

Alfredo pulls Fiona, and it’s the first time he marginally regrets joining the crew.

He’s got no fucking idea what she’d like, what gift she’d appreciate and not hit him over. He tries to be casual about asking around, hoping someone might have better insight. The rest of the crew catches on immediately, and they flood him with false information.

“She loves chocolate. Favorite Halloween candy, in fact!” Michael tells him, but the grin he has says otherwise.

“She mentioned something about wanting to learn a new language.” Jack says seriously.

“Get her an English to French dictionary, she’ll love it.” Gavin tacks on.

“French, yep. She definitely wants to learn that one.”

Lindsay is the only one who actually helps him. “She’s been known to enjoy a drink or two.”

By sheer luck he happens to walk into one of the thousand arguments Fiona has with Michael over the whole ‘Halloween candy’ debacle, and he knows immediately that's a bad route to go down.

He ends up making a gift basket full of liquor mini’s and various candies. He makes sure not to include any chocolates, and throws some extra blowpops in, just to be safe.

Thankfully, she does appreciate the thought he put in, and she says she’ll only share with Alfredo since everyone else is an asshole.

--

Fiona pulls Lindsay, and it’s not hard to figure out what she’ll like.

 She considers something chaotic, the two of them wreaking havoc on the city together. It makes sense. She also thinks about organizing a ‘girls day’, getting all the ladies of the crew together to go out and fuck some shit up. There’s a lot of logistics involved in that one, including convincing some of them to be out in the field like that.

It crosses her mind to bring Lindsay to a shelter to play with cats, because if there’s one thing Lindsay likes more than chaos, it’s cats. That’s also a bit of a logistical nightmare, not to mention the strength it would take to pry her away.

In the end she goes with cat merch. It’s a basket full of goodies, including a mug with a cat holding a bi-pride flag, a dress with various cartoon cats on it, and a cat necklace that has her birthstone as the body.

It’s beautiful, and Lindsay just about cries. She too, immediately changes into her new clothing, and she drinks everything out of the mug for at least a month.

--

Lindsay pulls Matt, and at first she panics.

She knows him fairly well, but like... He’s a real weirdo, what’s she supposed to do with that? She wonders what games he could use, if there’s anything he hasn’t bought himself.

Her confusion lasts until she mentions it to Michael. (Only after he let it slip who he’d picked.)

“Are you fucking kidding me? Matt’s the easiest goddamn one!”

“Bullshit! Name one thing you know about M.att B.ragg!”

“He eats like shit! Give him a box of donuts and he’ll lose his fuckin mind.”

Her response of  “Oh my god.” is barely heard.

She spends a week trying out different recipes, much to Ryan’s delight. He’s happy to play taste-tester while she finds the perfect flavor combination.

She winds up going with a double chocolate espresso concoction. Matt is, of course, super stoked about his cupcakes, and damn near has to fight Ryan off to protect them.

--

Matt pulls Jeremy, which is pretty much a slam dunk.

Whiskey is the obvious choice, one he’ll absolutely go with, thank you very much. Who said taking the easy way out never got you anywhere?

And it would have, if it weren’t for Geoff.

There’s a debate that happens about a week before Christmas, something about the necessity of going to the liquor store. Michael and Jeremy are firmly pro-trip, and Geoff just wants them to “stay home and do some goddamn work. Besides, it’s not like half of you guys aren’t buying each other liquor anyway. In a week I’m sure we’ll be fully stocked.”

Which, alright. Fuck Matt then, huh? He’d genuinely thought it was a good idea, a mix of thoughtful and practical.

He decides to pair the whiskey with- well, it’s kind of a joke gift, but at least he won’t be accused of only buying liquor.

He commissions a customized cowboy hat. Half purple half orange, split right down the middle. There’s a neon yellow buckle on it, and it’s the ugliest thing Matt has ever seen in his life.

Jeremy loves it though, thinks it’s goddamn perfect. He wears it for the rest of the day, and for the next heist.

(Michael is less enthused.)

--

Jeremy pulls Michael, and that-

That’s harder than it should be.

He and Michael have been doing this... Whatever the fuck it is for over six months now, and they haven’t goddamn talked about. Not really. They’ve had moments,sure, here and there when they’re both drunk and thinking far too much about it. Reminding each other that they’re happy, that this is a good time, wouldn’t change it for the world-

But there’s still nights they sleep alone and they don’t talk about why. They still don’t really mention it to anyone else, even if they all know. Jeremy still doesn’t know how to answer when someone asks what the deal is with him and Michael.

So it’s hard, right, to come up with a relationship- appropriate gift. Too jokey and he’ll feel bad. Too serious isn’t their style at all. Plus like… how’s he supposed to do that in front of everybody? Just because they know there’s something there doesn’t mean they need to put on a show.

He settles on the obvious, nice bottle of tequila and a couple of shot glasses. It’s not exactly personal, but it’s good enough to show the room.

Later, in a quiet moment they can steal away, Jeremy offers to take him out the next night.

“We’ll do the bar thing, just you and me. My treat.”

“Oh yeah? You’re buying my drinks all night?” Michael asks him with a sly grin.

“I uh- I’ll get your drinks for as long as you’ll have me.” and it doesn’t come out exactly right, but they both know what he means by it.

Earns him a smile and a sweet kiss, and that alone is worth it.

--

Michael pulls Jack, and he runs through a few options.

He considers buying her furniture, because he knows she'll need it when they all finally do move out. But Jack has a good head on her shoulders and probably already has that shit on lock.

He looks into custom shelving, for all the knick knacks she's collected over the years. He could get it designed in colors she'd like and shell out extra for lighting and all that shit. But she doesn't have a new place yet, as far as he knows, so that's kind of a bust.

He could give her what amounts to a gift certificate, an offer to pay for whatever she wants made, but that seems kind of… Empty?

There's the age old alcohol gift, but that's been done before, and is probably being done by almost everyone else.

He mentions to Lindsay how weirdly difficult it is to buy something for Jack, get’s zero advice but somehow helps her figure out the whole Matt mystery.

In the end he decides to help her out and piss her off, a little bit of a win-win kinda thing. He buys her a couple of new shirts, bold and flowery and almost as bad as Jeremy’s Rimmy Tim shtick. He hates them but he knows she loves them, so it’s worth it.

He tells her it’s because her old shirts gotta be falling out of fashion, an opinion she is not happy about.

But it’s fine, because he also gets her tickets to fucking Disney World, of all places. He even offers to go with her, which she absolutely takes him up on.

It’s more fun than he expects, and it’s a really good chance to actually spend some time with her. He hadn’t realized it had been so long.

--

Jack pulls Geoff, which.

It’s no secret that Geoff is a sentimental bastard when it comes to the crew. It’s exactly why he’d spent months talking to her about the possibility of selling the penthouse, trying to figure out exactly how everyone would react, trying to figure out how he would react to not having them all so close anymore. She spent countless nights listening to him wonder what it meant that he wanted his own space.

Objectively, he was probably a bad person but his love and fierce loyalty to the crew made up for that, in some ways, right? So how can he kick them out, how can he do this to them, he’s being selfish-

And she had just explained to him that he had to do what was right for him. That it was understandable. That he was right, they could all use the opportunity to be a little more independent. She was looking forward to having her own space, and in time the rest of them would too.

So when she pulls Geoff’s name, she knows she’s gotta lean into that a bit. She could get him some books, some puzzles maybe. He’d mentioned off-hand that he missed having the space for them, because the kitchen table was always covered in some sort of crew shenanigans.

She does get him those, because she knows they’ll get some use.

But the big thing is the collage.

She’s had pictures of the crew on her phone for years, dating all the way back to her and Geoff in a shitty apartment. She’s got some of Ray, curled up on the couch with a DS in his hand. Gavin and Michael wrestling one drunken night. Ryan, nodded off on the couch after a heist, face paint still on and a complete mess. Jeremy trying to teach Matt something resembling self-defense. Lindsay cuddling a stray cat she had taken in. Trevor and Alfredo in matching clothes, playing up the ‘twin’ joke that had been going around. Fiona in that bright yellow suit, modeling for her Instagram.

There’s one she gets at the last minute, gets somebody from the support team to take right before their latest heist. It’s all eleven of them, full heist get-up, masks and obnoxious fashion choices and guns tucked here and there. They’re in the boardroom, running through it one more time before they take off, and in retrospect, it’s probably the last time they’ll do that in that room.

She sets that one in the middle, surrounded by all of these moments from the last 12 years.

“For your new place, when you find it.” Jack says.

It’s beautiful, and it makes Geoff cry. It brings some sniffles from a lot of them, even if they all deny it.

Leaving the penthouse isn’t the easiest thing for any of them, but it’s the right move. After all, they’re still a family.

#ks writes #fahc #fahc headcanon #ragehappy #christmas in july yall #i honestly love this a lot and hope yall do too #jeremichael #tagging those boys for Reasons

[cribb4eva]

Trump ft. Beauty and the Beast au

A Retelling of

The Beauty and the Beast

AND THE WALL THAT BROUGHT THEM TOGETHER

featuring

·         Donald Frump as the majority stakeholder of BeautyTM

·         J Jenkins, better known as the Beast, a professional competitive eater

(HENCEFORTH REFERRED TO AS B&B)

[A/n - as I write this I hear the two loudly arguing about the moniker.

Beast: “I like it. It goes a long way to show how we truly united.”

Beauty: “Covfefe”]

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

Once upon a time there lived an immensely wealthy merchant in a lavish home the likes of which the world had never seen (and god willing would never see again). As the rich are prone to do when bored, he bred in his spare time. As the result, the monstrosity he called his home witnessed a flowering of horses, ducks and wailing human children, and Monsieur (because Frump was a fan of the French) Frump had to overcome the first hurdle of parenthood – the naming ceremony. We can safely assume he did not do very well, as one of his (many, many) children and (equally numerous) ducks ended up with the same name – a lovely, well rounded ‘Donald’. Pause now, and witness this wonder of the world, both Donalds have illustrious careers ahead of them- one immortalized on the silver screen along with his various animal friends, who he loved to take the mickey out of, and the other, human version immortalized thanks to the work of your very own writer of this tale.

We move now to the future, an older Donald the Human greets us, spewing pearls of wisdom ( à la the classic fairy-tale Toads and Diamonds, pardon my old fangled references) while Donald the Duck, sailor’s cap et all is sadly, dust in the wind. To make my point, let me grace you, dear reader, with some of his (earth shattering, epoch defining) words - "I will build a great, great wall on our southern border, and I will have Mexico pay for that wall. Mark my words." One could say he had delusions of grandiloquence.

Ah, but this Wall is to play a role in the tale, as all great dreams begin with a dreamer, to borrow from Madam Tubman, who will no doubt be distinctly displeased at my using said quote for said human. What one needs to remember then, is that the human Donald had grown up into his name, and now (very un-ironically) owned Beauty Corp.TM, the premier destination for exploiting societal expectations of beauty for women and turning a profit, and its subsidiary, Miss Whole-Goddamn-Universe, where Donald the human, whom we shall now refer to as Mr. Frump, would fulfil his yearly quota of ogling at women and generally making everyone uncomfortable. In a sentence, Mr. Frump owned BeautyTM, and if that bit of irony doesn’t make your day better, I’m afraid the dark side has won you over.

The wheel of time turns, kicks up the gravel on the road, and leaves dust in its wake. Circumstances change. For it just so happened that Frump the senior had to leave his monstrous home to bring down the economy of a small third world country, and this parting from his brood brought much sorrow. “What shall I bring for you” he cried, tears flowing down his cheeks thanks to dust allergies caused by the afore mentioned wheel of time. In a chorus of “drones!” “A small spaceship!” and “the Kohinoor!” young Donald’s “a wall” claimed the heart of his sire.

Thus Frump senior began his long and arduous journey to the third world country, his pain exacerbated by the fact that the airline did not offer first class passage. His return found his joy dulled, for while he had successfully managed to oust the leader, and scam them , the country still retained the rights over its own resources, and in his fatigue, he forget about the promises he had made to his children. Presently he remembered those promises and went about fulfilling them; a quick text to his friend Geoff Pesos of Amazing Inc. would take care of the easier demands. A wall would prove to be more daunting, and in his desperation he directed his goons to the first wall he saw and told them to take it apart and bring it to Donald.

Alas for Mr. Frump that the wall belonged to one J. JENKINS, COMPETITIVE EATER EXTRAORDINAIRE, with a social media presence to rival even that of the most venerated reality television stars. Now Jenkins was a simple bloke. He lived to eat and not the other way around. His online persona The Beast would have gotten along excellently with Monsieur Frump on any other day, given that both were paragons of Western gluttony.

However, as one might assume, Jenkins did not take kindly to thugs tearing down a wall of his house (who would have thought?). And as is the norm, Jenkins threatened an expose, which as we know, is universally accepted as the Truth, which Mr. Frump, slayer of third world countries could not risk at present. As diamond cuts diamond, so does social media prove to be a wonderful defence against Mr. Frump’s team of lawyers( who took great pride in being called sharks and endeavoured to live up to the name by looking more and more like the watery predators). I have said before, and I will say again, nothing beats the threat of public embarrassment, as Frump Senior would find out unless he agreed to bring Donald the human to the abode of one J. Jenkins and apologise. Jenkins was a traditionalist and believed in punishing the son for the sins of the father.

For the purpose of this tale, let us assume that both Frumps, junior and senior are unable to pay off the wily Jenkins and scowling, go out to meet him- “But daddy, it's really cold outside, they are calling it a major freeze, weeks ahead of normal. Man, we could use a big fat dose of global warming!”

The Beast, as Jenkins was known, had grand plans for Mr. Frump junior, who was well known around the globe for his previously mentioned making-women-uncomfortable activities. The Beast also had a secret. His WeTube sponsors had threatened to withdraw, following his ‘I ate a bat for breakfast’ video which they believed would not be taken well since it had been a mere ten months after the outbreak of the MorBid 19 pandemic. He needed to pull something so amazingly outrageous, so steadfastly loony, and so horrifically absurd so as to make the ramifications of his previous video null and void. And along came Frump junior, funny how fate functions. Rarely had the world witnessed such serendipity; the solution dropped into the lap of a mortal with such ease.

Thus was born the idea of a video titled- ‘The Famous Mr. Frump Eats Healthy For A Week, Shocker I Know’. Cue the gasps of amazement, the astonishment of the netizens; for if there was a thing Mr. Frump was even better known for, it was his absolute detestation for anything green and fibrous. God forbid you utter the word healthy around him, while the N word (nutri****) had to be censored to avoid the inevitable hissy fits.

And so Jenkins convinced Frump junior to pay off his father’s debt by living with him for a week, to record the challenge (which would go on to be featured in WeTube’s yearly Rewind, and thus achieve digital stardom). Needless to say, Donald’s siblings were decidedly not pleased, for there are those in this world who envy a fellow human even a chance of dodgy WeTube fame.

Donald dithered, and as per usual, couldn’t make up his mind. In the end, he had to return to the Beast, for the Frump Empire was still very much open to the criticism of said WeTube star and animosity due to his demolished wall. Thus the Wall brought the owner of BeautyTM to the Beast, who had been languishing at the thought of having to make a living once his sponsors cut him off.

Cue dramatic reunion, a week of healthy eating that changed their lives, for the Beast repented his ways and decided that perhaps wasting food in a hungry world was in bad taste (pun intended), and the owner of BeautyTM realised that perhaps there was something to be said for actually focusing on what goes in the body rather than what is slapped on outside.

When you thing of their future, think of a viral WeTube video. Think of a new WeTube channel called B&B. Here we end our tale, and they lived (how long I cannot say, for I am no seer).

#i didnt mean to #aaaaaa #i'm sorry #beauty and the beast #tw trump

[redfire-blackash-whitegold]

Iron

Trevor woke up in a fog. There was a brief moment where he didn’t remember anything. His name was Trevor, he was lying on a couch- the couch in the penthouse. Standing above him were the gents. Yes the gents. Geoff, Jack, Ryan. They were all staring at him. 

“Why are you all looking at me like that?” At this, Ryan smiled. Jack gave a sigh of relief, and Geoff,

“What do you remember?”

“I- uh,” Trevor sat up and looked around for his shirt. “Oh god, I got super drunk last night didn’t I? Because we were celebrating you hiring me on as a Fake. Aw man, that’s why my head feels so terrible.”

“Come on, we gotta show the Lads,” Jack said, and gave him a hand up from the couch. She started walking, but Trevor hesitated, still looking for his clothes. 

“What’s wrong?” Geoff asked, sharply and curt. 

“Nothing’s wrong, he’s just naked,” Ryan answered. Ryan ducked into his own room and grabbed some jeans and a teeshirt for Trevor to put on. “Once you move in you can have your own clothes here, but for now you can use mine.” The jeans fit fine but the shirt was slightly baggy. 

Jack led Trevor down the hall, and knocked on Michael’s door. Jeremy answered, but Michael and Gavin jumped up from their board game when they saw who it was. They had been playing scrabble, though the board got jostled when everyone stood up. Jeremy’s were the only tiles he could see, they read “c-nst-uct.”

“Oh Treco you look so good!” Gavin exclaimed. Michael nudged Gavin with his elbow, barely noticeable to Trevor as he was busy looking around. “Compared to last night, I mean, last night you looked like toss.”

“I didn’t think you guys liked scrabble.”

“We uh, don’t normally.” Michael said. “Jeremy suggested it.” 

“Alright, come on boys, we have a heist to prepare for,” Geoff said and went back through the living room on his way to the whiteboard room. 

“Oh, okay,” Trevor said and followed. 

“It’s just to test out your skills since you joined the crew.” 

———— 

It was just Trevor, Ryan, and Jeremy “heisting” a gas station. As Jeremy was driving, Ryan was checking his gun, dismantling it and putting it back together, but more carefully. When they had almost arrived at their location, Ryan handed a pistol back to Trevor in the seat behind him.

“You know how to use one of these?” 

“Of course Ryan! What am I, an animal?” And Jeremy smiled, eyes still on the road. Ryan put on his mask, but Jeremy didn’t and so Trevor didn’t. Trevor didn’t think he had a mask anyway. Ryan rushed in the building and Trevor followed him. The gas station was full of floating stands of shelves with junk food lining them. 

Ryan held the clerk at gunpoint, and Trevor took what was in the register. He then picked up a lighter from the counter. 

“Can I have this?”

“Huh? Sure, take what you want.”

————

The getaway was exciting at least. Trevor didn’t see the clerk hit any alarm, but that’s not to say someone from outside didn’t call the police. Or else it was Jeremy, as a further test. Trevor wouldn’t put it past Geoff to tell Jeremy and Ryan to make it as difficult on him as they could. 

Jeremy drove at speeds Trevor had not experienced before to try to pull away from the pursuing police cars. Ryan was leaning out the passenger side window shooting at the officers. Trevor undid his seatbelt and turned around in his seat, kneeling in the middle with his feet braced against the back of Jeremy and Ryan’s seats, and used the headrest to perch his gun. Trevor didn’t shoot at the officers behind them, he shot at their tires. Some cars swerved off, others simply slowed to where Jeremy could easily outpace them. Other cars did not get hit. 

One officer in the shotgun seat of the patrol car aimed his gun at the Fakes’ car, and Trevor could see it was headed for Jeremy. Without thinking, Trevor moved into the way of the bullet and was slammed back into Jeremy’s seat. The force of it made Trevor’s ears ring, a dull, hollow sound. 

“Trevor!” Jeremy noticed what had happened before Ryan did. “Are you okay?”

“I- uh… I-“ Trevor looked down at himself, looking for blood. There was nothing there, no blood, no injury, just a small hole in the shirt he was wearing from before. “I don’t think I got hit.”

————

When Trevor returned to the penthouse, the others had moved all of his stuff into his new room, which made the process painless for him. Everything was there, his clothes, his computer, his own weapons, even his pet turtle. 

Trevor remembered getting his first turtle. It was when he was fairly young, fourteen or fifteen. He had stolen it from a pet store. They weren’t doing anything wrong, they weren’t underfeeding it, or cramping all the turtles together or mistreating it in any way. Trevor just thought it looked lonely in its glass cage. He kept it in a shoebox for months, and then a basket, and then it escaped and found its way into traffic.

It was a very long time before Trevor adopted another turtle after that.

————

“Hey,” Lindsay said, after watching Trevor fold laundry for a while. He jumped slightly, and took his earbuds out.

“Oh hey, how long were you standing there?” He asked. 

“Only for the last three shirts.”

“Why?”

“I was curious, there wasn’t anything leading up to this, but,” Lindsay said. “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Oh, hmm,” Trevor replied. “Grey, I guess.”

“Like all the shirts you buy for yourself,” Lindsay said, referring to the half-folded pile of clothes. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he said. “It feels right, you know?”

————

Trevor, Jeremy, and Gavin were standing in the middle of a football field at night. The field was empty except for them, and it was lit by the giant floodlights that encircled the green. Farther down the field, around the ten yard line, Michael was setting up fireworks. A moment later, Michael was jogging up to meet them, trailing a wire as he went. 

“Oh, whoah,” Michael said as he reached Trevor. 

“What?” Trevor said with a hint of worry in his voice, concerned about the explosives.

“No, it’s nothing, just,” Michael said. “Your eyes are brown but in this light they look red.”

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“Nah.” Michael grinned. “Okay Gavin, hit the lights and let’s get this show started!”

————

It was four in the morning, what was considered to be the middle of the night, when Trevor ventured into the kitchen looking for a glass of water. He wasn’t surprised to see Ryan reading a book with a clip-on light attached to it. Ryan, on the other hand, was startled. He set the book down quickly, but relaxed when he saw who it was. 

“Oh, hey Trevor. What are you doing up?”

“I don’t really sleep much,” Trevor shrugged. 

“Yeah… Me neither,” There was an awkward moment of silence, and Trevor decided to continue his quest for water. When he passed by Ryan again in crossing from the kitchen back towards the hall, Ryan stopped him. “Trevor, do you ever- do you ever have nightmares?”

“No, I don’t.”

————

Moss. He wasn’t sure what it was at first, but Trevor was starting to grow moss. It was just on his legs before, but now that it was starting to grow on his arms, he could see it better. He showed Jack, first. 

“Oh. Well, we could spray it?”

“You want to cover me in pesticides?” Trevor said, a little louder than he was intending. 

“I mean, sure, why not?” 

Trevor suddenly remembered all the other times he had been sprayed. The first time it was his mother, a few other times, strangers. He even remembered doing it himself in the bathroom mirror. To keep the moss away. 

Except, no, that wasn’t normal. No one else had to shower themselves in chemicals to prevent a living thing from growing on them. That never happened in movies, he had never seen the lads do it, nor the gents - It was an inconvenient truth, no one wanted to acknowledge it - Except that didn’t make sense! If people did it that commonly, then there should be ads for pesticides, some avant guard movie that talks about the moss problem, something, anything. This shouldn’t be the first time he was hearing about it - It wasn’t the first time he was hearing about it, it was there in his memories. 

The next thing Trevor knew, he was on the ground, clutching his head. 

“Ryan! Geoff! Something’s wrong!” Jack called. 

“What happened!?”

“Look at him!”  There was arguing for a while, and then it was quiet again. 

Ryan knelt down next to Trevor and started shaving off the moss with a razor. Pieces floated down into the carpet. 

“Don’t worry about it, just forget about the moss.” 

————

Geoff was in the whiteboard room alone, pouring over plans when Trevor burst in. He had been in there for hours, a fact which Trevor was aware of. 

“What am I?”

“This isn’t a good time.”

“I’m not human, so what am I?” For the first time, Geoff looked up from the papers on the table.

“You’re-“ “Don’t try to deny it. I’m immune to bullets, my skin is cold to the touch, and I have plants growing on my damn ankles! What. Am. I?”

“I…” Geoff pushed some of the papers away from himself. “Trevor, have you ever heard of a golem?” Geoff pulled out the chair beside him, and motioned for Trevor to sit. He did, and leaned into the table with his head in his hands. 

“A… golem?” He said. “But… my memories? I remember being a child, I remember meeting you for the first time, but you… made me?” 

“Your memories are designed to fill in the blanks about the world, to make you feel more… human.” 

“What-“

“But that’s not who you are.” Geoff spoke with conviction.

“I-“ “That’s not what you are.”

“… So what am I?”

“You’re a Fake.” 

#fahc #fake ah crew #fahc trevor #fahc geoff #the crew #iron golem au #it's october and that means its time for spooooooky aus! #we'll see if i actually write anything else before halloween

[waterparchive]

Track By Track: ‘FANDOM’ with Waterparks

Brii Jamieson – October 21, 2019

Because who better to explain 'FANDOM' than the lads in Waterparks?

So now that we've all had a chance to listen to Waterparks' new album 'FANDOM' and properly mull it over and digest it, we thought that this would be an opportune moment to go through the album in more detail. But rather than us explaining the themes and nuances of the songs on the album, we asked Waterparks to talk us through each track on 'FANDOM'. Here we go.

01. ‘Cherry Red’ Awsten Knight: “I had another demo that I was doing of [‘Cherry Red’], and the file got corrupted. And I was like, ‘Fuck’. I couldn’t open it anymore, and dragged in all the pieces of audio, and just made new tracks of audio. I was going to try and rearrange it to the way I had it, but I pressed play and it sounded like ‘Cherry Red’ when it kicks in. I was just in my room like, ‘Oh shit!’ I was like, ‘Well that’s that’.

“That was fucking wild - but that’s the start to the best album in the world. It gives hints to the last song, because that last song goes, ‘So I must be dead’, and this one’s like, ‘You know I’d die for you’ - get it?”

02. ‘Watch What Happens Next’ Awsten: “‘Watch What Happens Next’ is me just being all, ‘Fuck y’all’. Not all of y’all, just like, a lot of y’all. Most of y’all. All of y’all!

“I overthink shit, a lot of shit. I’m in a band. I overthink being in a band a lot. And one of those things that I’ve overthought is how most other genres are able to celebrate their successes, and it’s a very looked-down-on thing in ‘band world’ to talk about most shit besides feelings. It’s really weird, and it doesn’t really make sense. It’s naïve to pretend that that’s the only thing that exists, and also kind of bad because it panders to people that are just stuck in this cycle of being fucking sad all the time. It makes for mopey high school kids - like me!

“It’s about, in the same regard, how bands aren’t allowed to experiment as much with music as other kinds of people. This isn’t me shitting on it - this is me saying we should be allowed to do it. But hip-hop albums that I really love are super fuckin’ artsy, and if a band were to do that it would be like, ‘What the fuck are y’all doing?’ because when a band switches up the tiniest little thing, [fans] are not about it at all. And it’s super dogshit, it’s very weird, and I think it holds the genre back as a whole, so it was a very frustrating thing for me. So I wrote about it, as I tend to do.”

03. 'Dream Boy' Awsten: “‘Dream Boy’ is about fan expectations. It’s about being built into something, based on an idealised version of you - an unwarranted one, at that - where people look at you as a certain thing. They see you online as, ‘Oh, he’s this and this and this’, and they put what they need you to be into their heads. It’s built into this thing that you cannot live up to, and it’s ultimately going to lead to disappointment - on their end, and my end, because it doesn’t feel good to let people down. But that’s just what happens. Pop banger, dude!”

04. 'Easy To Hate' Awsten: “That one was a ‘Friendly Reminder’ song actually, but it was just a really good song and everyone said I should keep it, and I was just like, ‘Yo, you’re right’. It’s about a break up. Yeah.”

05. 'High Definition' Awsten: “You guys are gonna make me cry by the end of this, and I’m gonna be like, ‘I hope you’re happy with this feature and you get your clicks’. Here we go.

“‘High Definition’ was the latest set of lyrics written for the album - it was the last thing. It’s about not being able to get close to people, because of what we do, being gone all the time. Or, you know, starting to have some kind of stature and not trusting the people who hit you up, because people may not have done so much before.

“There’s a song that’s all, ‘Back then hoes didn't want me, now I'm hot hoes all on me’ [Mike Jones’ ‘Back Then’] - but not in like a bragalicious way. It’s an, ‘I’m like really lonely, I hate all of this’, kind of way. It’s like that.”  

06. 'Telephone' Awsten: “‘Telephone’ was written when I was super fucking depressed - surprise - and I was at Target. I saw a cute girl at Target, and instead of being like, ‘Sup’ - I would have never done that anyway - I went home and wrote a super obsessive love song, and it was so tight.”

Geoff Wigington: “He called me and was like, ‘Dude, I’ve just seen the prettiest person at Target, I don’t even know what to do - I can’t find them now. I think I’m just gonna go home and write about it’.”

Awsten: “Did that happen?”

Geoff: “Yeah!”

Awsten: “Alright. Either way, I also don’t remember what they look like anymore. Because I saw the responses when I said that were like, ‘What does she look like, blah blah blah missed connection’, and I honestly don’t remember. It was like, January 2018. Yeah, so that song’s that.

“There’s another reason that it almost wasn’t on the album - the original version was kind of pop-punk sounding, and I was like, ‘Fuck that’. But the other reason is, I was trying to decide if it takes away from the album - but it doesn’t though. Because with some of the other themes of the album, it counts as the sugar-spike in [‘Fandom’]. Because when you’re dealing with some shit, you have hard ups and downs, and it’s kind of like a manic thing. It’s lodged between ‘High Definition’ which is a very lonely, isolating song, then you’ve got the ‘AAAAAAH!’ (we pretend that ‘Group Chat’ isn’t a thing for a second), and we have ‘Turbulent’. So it’s between those guys. That’s how it’s meant to be. It’s like, low - very high - very low.”

07. ‘Group Chat' Awsten: “Let’s talk ‘Group Chat’ dude.” [They literally just performed ‘Group Chat’ here. That’s the whole thing].

08. ‘Turbulent’ Awsten: “I was like, ‘I’m done with break up songs dude, I’m over it’. Then I got re-mad at some new shit. Then I was like, ‘You know what though, if we’re gonna do this, it’s gotta be crazy different from everything else, sonically and lyrically’, so instead of approaching it like, ‘Eh’, it was like, ‘Fuck you nerd, I’m way tighter than all of this shit’. Oh my god, and then sonically it was just so dark and shiny and fast, and I was like, ‘This is the best’. [‘Turbulent’] was the turning point for ‘Fandom’ - that was the first thing made after being like, ‘You know what, that one is not going to work, we’re gonna start over’. That was the first thing, and then I was like, ‘Oh, this is what we’re supposed to be doing, alright’.”

09. 'Never Bloom Again' Awsten: “That song has been in the process of being written since 2015. I’ve got real old versions of that. But the thing is, it just kept evolving - I kept doing new verses, and changing things in the hook and stuff like that. And there was a version of it that was ready around the time of ‘Entertainment’ - it wasn’t quite the same, but the reason it wasn’t on there was because I was like, ‘If it’s only 10 songs, there shouldn’t be two acoustic. That might be overkill’.”

10. 'I Miss Having Sex But At Least I Don't Wanna Die Anymore' Awsten: “‘I Miss Having Sex But At Least I Don’t Wanna Die Anymore’ is about missing having sex… but not wanting to die anymore. In the verses, I was just trying to talk directly to the fans - the first one that’s like, ‘Stop asking me that, don’t ask me that, I don’t wanna do that, I don’t wanna do that either’. It’s always somebody’s birthday. Always. But that song leaves nothing to be imagined… If somebody is like, ‘What’s that line mean?’, I’d be like, ‘Can you read?’. When I say all the lyrics in this album are a lot more blunt, this one is the perfect example of that.”

11. 'War Crimes' Awsten: “Oh. Bud-dy. Oh my lord. What a crazy song. Initially there was another version - or when I first started doing it, it was like a girly base and I was like, ‘Shut up Awsten! We’ve got way tighter shit to say’. It’s me venting about the past year and a half, but it’s like an overview of that time, and is just me bitching about all of it, because bitching is great.

“I mean, we’ve toured a lot, so we’ve experienced a lot with other bands. We’ve experienced a lot just with other people in general and how they are, and how they treat you when things suck - or when things are tight. Or how they treat me because I’m the singer, and he’s just the drummer!”

12. ‘[REBOOT]’ Awsten: “Oh man, that’s like the pettiest breakup song, but it’s so great. I sing so quick in that song, it’s really fun. I wanted that one to come out before [the album] because I worry when songs are towards the back of the album that they’re just not gonna be heard as much, and it’s just a little more sonically… I don’t wanna say low-key - but other songs slam, or I’m like screaming and shit. I wanted to make sure it got its highlight.

“And plus, shout out to those Marilyn Manson-sounding vocals in the chorus - because I didn’t want it to stay the same dynamically, but when we tried to make it go up it just sounded dumb. I was like, ‘Do you know what we have to do? We have to go gloomier. Just sink that bottom half with some real dark shit, some real minor stuff in there’. We made it sound just like Marilyn Manson and it was crazy, and I was like ‘there it is! Bop!’.”

13. ‘Worst’ Awsten: “‘Worst’ was written in March 2019. That’s a lie.

“‘Worst’ started the way most demos do - on the laptop. But then I got upset! And I went and walked to Starbucks and put it on YouTube one morning after seeing some stuff online, and left it unlisted for a minute because I knew our old label would be like ‘waaa’ about it. So I left it up for a minute on unlisted so if people had the link they could find it, but then I deleted the tweet. So I just let it circulate, and dude that shit had like 30,000 views, which back then was like, a lot - because that was back before ‘Entertainment’. Then they made me put it on private, because they found that and Felony Steve: rest in peace Felony Steve (he’ll be back). But then people kept re-uploading it, and one of them has like 400,000 something views right now, which is crazy. So I was just like, ‘I think I can do that song way fucking better’, and sonically it’s completely different now. Yeah, that song is fuckin’ tight. It’s one of the more genre-unique songs on the album.”

14. ‘Zone Out’ Awsten: “‘Zone Out’ came before ‘Dream Boy’ - it was stuck in my head for a long time, and finally I just recorded that chip-tune version of it, for me. But it was kind of ad-libby and shit. So once I got more of the lyrics together I did that. I was just listening to it on repeat because I was like, ‘This is so beautiful’, but then I was like, ‘You know what, this song should be like a full-on pop banger’, and then ‘Dream Boy’ happened. But it’s meant to be like a reflection at the end of the album, kind of like, after all this shit. And it’s kind of more shaky sounding, low… a little more sarcastic at that point.”

15. ‘I Felt Younger When We Met' Awsten: “What a fuckin’ hit. Yeah, that song, there was a version of it for ‘Friendly Reminder’, but it was just super light and it just didn’t do its job. I was like, ‘It’s just not impacting the way it needs to, so it needs to be rewritten’, and now it’s the fucking most insane intro on the entire album - oh my god. When we first got that at the studio, I was in the car with it and I was just like, ‘Woah’, turned it up way to loud, and just started it over when it got to the verse. So crazy.

“That song lyrically links back in to ‘Cherry Red’ - because it’s all meant to be very cohesive, even with the album art and stuff like that. Like the clock hands on the orange - that’s supposed to be the visual, and the ticking at the end represents that it’s about to start over again. Because it’s cyclical! Because guess what, dude? One of the fucking themes, part of the concepts of ‘Fandom’ is grief, and grief is a fucking loopy thing, it’s not a straight path - sometimes you gotta start over again. And you know what? The album did that: sonically, visually, conceptually. It’s a concept album, give us a five.”

https://www.rocksound.tv/features/read/track-by-track-fandom-with-waterparks

#waterparks #waterparks band #waterparks interview #awsten interview #awsten knight #geoff wigington #fandom #rock sound

[vagrantblvrd]

@rogueghost​ Tumblr’s still acting weird for me so I had to do the old DIY reply to your ask, but here you go. :D?

Oh, friend! There’s so much lore to Destiny that I haven’t kept up with myself because ~lazy. The AUs I’ve written are a mishmash of Destiny universe and ~artistic liberties on my part, so yeah.

(There’s an amazing video here about the lore thus far that I hope to watch One Day? But, again, lazy and lack of time to sit down to properly absorb it.)

Quick background on the games/Ghosts for those who don’t play the game/want to see me ramble on about A Thing:

The game tells us is the Traveler (giant white space orb/messiah/McGuffin showed up in our solar system which resulted in what’s called the Golden Age where human technology advanced like whoa. (But surprise, surprise, the Traveler was being pursued by an enemy referred to as the Darkness and things got messy for humanity, something that happened to several races that happened to run into the Traveler before us.)

There was an extinction level event several centuries before the events of the Destiny games called The Collapse when the Darkness caught up to it. The Traveler “died”, creating the Ghosts as it did to seek out Guardians...who tend to be dead at the time (they get better) who then join the ranks of the Guardians (who for the most part) fight to save humanity/the universe and/or engage in shenanigans such as flinging themselves off the Tower for funsies and the whatnot. (Guardians have no common sense, btw. Also, lunatics.)

BUT.

Back to your amazing prompt???

It would be this entire Thing on its own because I want to set it before the games back in the days before there was a Vanguard, which from what I gather from the lore I have read was not unlike ye olden medieval days/wild west with sci-fi twist, because yes. (Also, it was referred to as the Dark Ages, so yeah.)

Geoff and Jack are among the first Lightbearers that are referred to as Risen in various bits of game lore, right? Before the Iron Lords and the whole “Guardian” business with the Vanguard and the Tower and all that good stuff.

Back in the days where there were some like them who abused their powers over those who weren’t like them. Grabbing land and wealth for themselves and gaining followers through fear and the whatnot?

They spend a long, long time trying to figure out what the hell is going on because no memories of their past lives and this hellish world they’ve been brought back to with Fallen and God knows what else wandering the lands.

Just these little glowing balls of Light and sass nagging them about finding shelter and armor and weapons,  getting them into hiding when Fallen patrols or other bandits go past.

Abilities before there were proper classes and sub-classes and all that.

Geoff and Jack both lean more towards the floofy jumps and glides of Warlocks. (not that they know what a Warlock even is at that point, of course.)

Jack’s abilities and whatnot lean more towards a support role, but he’s not defenseless, oh no. He learns to use his Light as a weapon and that goes for Geoff too.

They carry guns and knives and in a pinch whatever is at hand.

Run into each other in a little settlement somewhere and at first it’s this Thing where they’re keeping their Ghosts out of sight – Warlords and so on who flaunt their little Ghost friends and the way people have learned to react to them. (And also? Just smart not to go about advertising the fact you’re harder to kill than most, that if they don’t know you have a Ghost you won’t stay down once someone tries to put you in the ground.)

There’s an attack, Fallen or human bandits or some Warlord’s goon squad trying to terrorize the settlement into rolling over for them. Pay a tax or whatever they’d call it back then to “protect” them from the roving bands of Fallen and other enemies.

Can’t do much without giving themselves away – and why would they? They don’t owe these people anything, and that old woman scooping her wares off the ground where her booth’s been knocked down tried to shortchange Geoff less than an hour ago.

The asshole with the weapons parts Jack needed is – okay, he’s kind of dead now, but he lied to Jack’s face about not having them in stock. Said he’d have to ask around, and wouldn’t you know it that would cost more. (Jack can see the parts he was after spilling from a box hidden at the back of the guy’s booth and into the grass, blood all over them and what a mess.)

Still.

Jack quietly takes the parts he needs and leaves the money he would have paid fairly for them and a little more with the boy crouched beside the booth. (His mother’s a settlement over, said she’d be a bit before joining his father with the parts she was bartering for there.)

Sighs as he looks down the road the goons left on and starts after them. Geoff’s munching on an apple he got of a nearby tree and watches him go, all thoughtful about it because there are people mourning here and they don’t owe them a damn thing, and what does that idiot think he’s going to do about it?

So of course he follows, just to see.

The end up killing everyone at the Warlord’s little castle, wherever he’s holed up because none of them will listen to reason and the man’s a blowhard. Full of himself because he’s clearly been chosen for a reason, and what else could it be than to rule over the weaker, lesser people in this section of the world?

And Geoff, God, Geoff.

Died several times getting to this asshole, right? Snipers and assholes with knives and other melee weapons and he was in dire need up upgrading his armor before he waded into this fight, but he’s got his trusty Ghost buddy and this stubbornness that just won’t quit. Smiles because this pathetic weasel playing king and is just like, “Oh, buddy, have I got news for you.” and behind him Jack pops his super, Radiance lighting up the Warlord’s pitiful little throne room.

Geoff lets that sink in for a moment before he fricking nova bombs the Warlord in the face.

It kind of hurts a little, when they see the asshole’s Ghost hiding in a corner of the room waiting for the right moment to resurrect the bastard, because their own Ghosts and the bonds they’ve built with them, you know?

But the little Ghost floats out to the center of the room, looks down at the body of its chosen and sighs because it knew a long time ago it chose poorly. (Maybe the Warlord could have done great things with this second chance, but he chose to do terrible things instead.)

They could kill the Ghost, make sure the Warlord didn’t come back, but -

There’s no point to it now. The Ghost is surprised at their decision, maybe disappointed. (Easier for things to end and not have to consider everything that went wrong because of its choice of course. Having to go on however long with that hanging over it? Nothing like mercy, is it?)

So.

They leave the Ghost behind, and all the dead in the halls and rooms where they fell. Find the path that leads away from the settlement and that small little Warlord and keep walking. (Swear they see a light in the woods along the castle grounds following them for a distance, but they leave it be and eventually it vanishes, wandering as aimlessly as them.)

And then!

They kind of fall in together after that, aren't really friends but there aren’t that many directions to go in, you know? And sometimes the Fallen patrols and whatnot are tricky for one Risen to deal with alone and it’s just.

Convenient.

They’re not bad guys, really, certainly no villains, but wouldn’t you know it? There are a lot of people out there who claim they are?

All these warlords with their bounties and other thieves and grifters with grudges to bear against them. Settlements who aren’t sure what to make of them and are wary of strangers because it pays to be paranoid.

And sometimes they kind of do bad things, pilfer some goods off a settlement where the leader’s an asshole and it’s doing well enough for they won’t miss just a little and so on and so forth. (Ignore the fact they maybe stop ‘round a poorer settlement or homestead kind of place to barter their stolen goods for a place with a roof over their heads for the night and so on. Because unimportant and definitely not a Good Deed or anything.)

Eventually they happen on this little asshole of a Hunter, a kid, really. (Well, no. Just. Young.)

Skittish, almost, the way he acts around them and after they win his trust by sheer dint of doing nothing he joins them beside the campfire they’ve set up.

Well, not nothing. Just. Something?

They set up camp in a clearing of the forest they’ve found themselves in this time. Tired after crossing a snowy mountain rage and it’s warm enough where they are they won’t freeze to death at night. (Once was enough, thanks.)

Hunt and fish and forage for food and leave the Hunter they spot lurking about alone when they realize he’s no threat to them.

Eventually Gavin gets curious enough, or maybe something else because he comes to their campfire with tidbits of food of his own. Treats and delicacies he’s made himself or bought or traded for somewhere else to supplement whatever Geoff and Jack caught/foraged for themselves.

They share stories, mostly Geoff and Jack about their adventures up to then. Little ones, because they’d hate to spook Gavin, scare him back into the forest and probably gone off somewhere they don’t stand a chance of finding him again.

After a while Gavin offers up some of his? Mostly advice for the area around them, dangers to look out for like Fallen patrols and the like.

Geoff asks after this human bandit encampment he heard about from a settlement nearby and Gavin goes quiet. Shifts uncomfortably before he tells them it won’t be a problem anymore and leaves it at that.

They don’t ask because they have stories of their own that end like that and it would just be rude after the goodies Gavin shared with them, so they don’t press.

The three of them wander around the forest for a few days, a week. Headed the same direction to another settlement nearby and it’s pretty nice having someone else around for a change, you know?

But once they reach the settlement Gavin vanishes on them and knowing how skittish he is, they don’t go looking for him.

A few years – twenty, thirty, maybe more – go by before they run into Gavin again.

They’ve left Earth a few times since then, gone wandering in these Jumpships that fell apart on them before too long and they ended back up on Earth.

By that time there’s a new group of Risen calling themselves the Iron something or others, and they’re out there giving the Warlords a time of it to hear the stories.

(A few from this shady guy who owns a bar in this little settlement that grew up to be a tiny town. Tells them about this lady named Efrideet responsible for the hole in the ceiling of his fine establishment, but he doesn’t seem too annoyed about it, so it’s probably fine.)

Run across this kid in a town somewhere, angry as hell and taking on some Warlord’s stooges with just his fists. Seems weapons would just slow him down because he’s doing just fine resolving whatever argument or debate he’s engaged in by punching the shit out of his opponents.

When it’s over they buy him a drink because it saves them the trouble of handling things themselves – picked up a bounty not too far away the kid took care of for them – and they offer to split the reward money since he did all the work.

And Michael, okay.

Squints at them because he sure as hell doesn’t know them, but who is he to turn down a free drink?

He agrees to taking a quarter of the reward because it seems they won’t accept anything less, but whatever. He would have have kicked the shit out of those assholes anyway for trying to bully the people here and this way he’ll have a little extra money in his pockets. (Whatevers.)

They part ways there, but he tells them if they need a hand they’re welcome to in touch with them.

Geoff and Jack wander a little more. Hear about these Iron Lords or whatever they’re calling themselves these days and are understandably concerned because the warlords business and who says these idiots are going to be any better?

(Say they’re out to protect people and all that, but entire settlements, towns, have gotten caught in the crossfire between them and the warlords and the only ones to walk out of it are these Iron Lords. So. Yeah. They’ve got some trouble thinking anyone’s a good guy in that scenario.)

More time goes by and they’re at some little outpost somewhere when Gavin pops up out of nowhere.

Strained look on his face and eyeing Michael who’s with them warily.

Says, “I could use your help,” which is a first because whenever they run into him he’s the one helping them out.

Hell of a sniper and no one better they’ve met when stealth is needed and anyway, anyway, they say yes because of course they do.

Like this little idiot who creeps around the wilds like it’s second nature, goes delving into Darkness Zones looking for God knows what. All kinds of trouble he gets up to and no one watching his back and just.

They worry, okay? They do.

More so with the way he’s all wound up about something. Won’t even tell them what it is until they’re out of the outpost and miles into the woods. Ghosts telling them no one’s around to listen in and even then he’s nervous.

Michael, who’s been quiet through all this loses his temper, snaps at Gavin to get on with with it already, fuck’s sake.

Jack goes to rein him in because Gavin and skittish and just, not what they need right now?

Only as it turns out, it kind of is because Gavin just.

Spills this story about coming across a crashed Fallen ketch in the mountains nearby. Too deep into Fallen territory – and treacherous terrain besides – for anyone to have reason to go up there.

But because Gavin’s an idiot and his Ghost is just as much of one, they went up there anyway.

Snuck past Fallen patrols and the whatnot to get into the ketch and found a Ghost in an odd little device that kept it from transmatting somewhere safe. Little thing begging them to find its chosen because the Fallen had caught them by surprise.

Overwhelmed them in an ambush and caught the Ghost in the cage it’s stuck in, kept its chosen because they thought he had answers they wanted.

Gavin glosses over the interrogations the Ghost told them about, how they’d torture its chosen to the point of death and have it resurrect him to do it all over again and the worst part is its chosen honestly didn’t have the answers to the questions they kept asking him? Resurrected a year ago a most when they were captured and wandering through the area by chance and just bad luck all around.

Anyway, anyway, he knows they don’t know this poor bastard, but Gavin can’t just leave him there, okay? He can’t get the guy out himself, but if they don’t want to help that’s fine, he understands, he’ll find a way -

Geoff and Jack are just like, no, you little idiot no, we’ll help. Just. Don’t do anything stupid okay?

Gavin is like “...okay?” because he didn’t know if they’d say yes – none of their business and sure, they’ve been pretty vocal about not getting involved things that don’t involve them, but that’s all just talk.

(They’ve been getting into trouble that didn’t concern them for a long damn time before now, and hey, Gavin’s kind of their business because they like him okay?)

Michael doesn’t know what Gavin’s deal is, but he’s always up for a fight and nothing better to do and when Geoff and Jack ask if he wants to go along he’s just like, sure, why not?

Gavin isn’t sure about him because Michael is a stranger to him? But he doesn’t seem too bad and Geoff and Jack like him and anyway, the more the merrier?

Thy follow Gavin up to the Fallen ketch, take out Fallen patrols and whatever else in their way headed there. Gavin has to sneak in ahead of them because there are traps and security measures the others would trample their way into and just.

“Be back in a moment,” and goes invisible because he’s got all them Hunter abilities and the whatnot.

There’s this uncomfortably long bit of time where the others are in hiding to avoid being detected and wondering if Gavin got caught by the Fallen. This whole argument about having to break in and save him too, which is when Gavin reappears, all “Took longer than I expected, but it’s all clear now,” and scares the bejesus out of them because Hunter and stealth and where the hell did he come from?

Gavin shrugging and totally not laughing at them as he takes the lead.

They get pretty far in before they’re noticed, and then it’s all fighting and shooting and maybe dying once or twice to be resurrected by their Ghost or picked up by a teammate.

Gavin makes for the trapped Ghost first, figures they might need it by the time they reach this captured Risen which, yikes? (But also smart, and also it’s easier to get and on the way and just. It works out.)

The Ghost they rescue sticks close to Gavin and his Ghost, nervous little thing after all it’s gone through and then there’s more fighting and the whatnot to get to this idiot who got himself caught.

Dicey moments and definitely some dying on their parts because there’s a Fallen tank in the ketch - naturally - and all these Vandals with their fricking wire rifles they don’t see until it’s too late, and anyway.

It’s a hell of a fight to get the guy.

Have to deal with a Kell, because of course they do, but four Lightbearers deal with him better than one or two would have and then they get to rescue the poor bastard.

His Ghost tutting and fussing and Ryan – because of course it’s Ryan – is just like, I’m alright, stop worrying and also?

Suspicious of his rescuers because he’s never seen them and four Lightbearers? Makes him Concerned, okay.

Things aren’t as bad as they were before the Iron Lords or whoever showed up, but it’s still.

He’s not very trusting, is the thing.

Grateful for the rescue and all, but not super friendly. (Which, understandable considering his recent experience.)

The group sticks together for a few days after they get out of the mountains and back down to a nearby settlement. Aren’t surprised when Ryan goes his own way – tells them he owes them one and goes off with his Ghost for more adventures or what have you.

No one is surprised when Gavin follows him all stealthy-like.

Well. Not as stealthy as he could be, because he doesn’t want to make Ryan jumpy about feeling like he’s being watched? But Gavin kind of bonded with Ryan’s Ghost a bit when he first ventured into the Ketch. Couldn’t sneak out right away and ended up living inside it avoiding Fallen for a few days. Crept down to see Ryan, talk to him when he could to tell him he’d find a way to get him out of there, you know?

(Hiding out in some little corner somewhere in the Ketch – too risky to sleep or too paranoid and there’s one or two Fallen watching Ryan he can sneak around to see him. Think about how it’d feel if he was the one in Ryan’s position and how easily that could happen to a lone Lightbearer and how awful it is that Ryan’s been there all that time and no one knew and just. He’s attached now, alright?)

Ryan too out of it most of the time to know about it, but his Ghost tells him about the idiot who went snooping where he really shouldn’t have been. Lurking about the Ketch even after he could have gotten out to make sure he had the layout and patrols memorized before going for help and just.

Everything.

So he’s not worried when the same idiot follows him when he goes on his own way, getting more bold or just bored/curious when he stops pretending he’s not following Ryan and walks into the little camp he makes somewhere.

The two of them traveling around together for a while, a few years, maybe more before they get a call from Geoff and Jack because Michael’s in a situation thanks to this asshole he fell in with somewhere.

Nothing too dire, just need the extra firepower and they help get Michael and his buddy Jeremy out of a Cabal base somewhere.

And then they go somewhere to celebrate and just. Stick together for a while?

Nothing more pressing to deal with – the Iron Lords have things pretty well in hand and all, warlords mostly gone and a semblance of order to things.

But there are still baddies out there, places the Iron Lords don’t have resources to protect just yet and they make a living out there.

Bloody, ugly living sometimes because baddies who were born that way and no one else to handle things and they’re not the bad guys here, but they’re not good either.

The SIVA clusterfuck happens and there’s this...chaos, panic for while. Things get hectic, threaten to go back to the way they were before the Iron Lords and it’s awful right?

This little group of Lightbearers out there doing what they can to keep things from getting too bad even if it means liberating goods and supplies from people hoarding them, refusing to share with those in need. Stopping the more aggressive assholes from trying for power grabs and the lot.

Maybe a few of them think twice about forming the kind of bonds they have when they see what happened to the Iron Lords because they’re not invincible even with their little Ghost buddies, you know?

But they keep on keepin’ on and watch as more and more Lightbearers show up, the City grows and Titans built its walls and the Vanguard come into being. Lightbearers start calling themselves Guardians, of all things.

And that gets derisive snort from Geoff because pretentious much? But the Guardians grow in number, fight against the Fallen and whoever – whatever – else threatens humanity. (Their City.)

Put out patrol beacons and organize strikes and all that nonsense and all these freshly resurrected Guardians going out and doing good things with their second chance. (Some driven by the desire to help mankind and all that, others by the promise of loot and prestige, and those with nothing better to do and a Ghost nudging them in the direction of being helpful.)

Still they hold out for a while, not wholly trusting in the staying power of the Vanguard and what they’re doing in that City of theirs or their Tower after seeing what happened before them.

Eventually though, they get curious.

Or maybe the Vanguard’s heard about them and they got curious.

Whichever one it is, they end up running a few strike together. Do some patrols on the side because guaranteed glimmer for some menial task they would have done for free. (Would have gotten parts and supplies anyway, handful of glimmer, but now? Better pay and earning trust in the bargain.)

Stop having to scavenge for the stuff they need and – this is bonus in Gavin’s mind at least because he’s never forgotten what happened to Ryan – someone besides one of them who’ll notice if they’re in trouble or go missing.

Who will send others to look for them (how many times have they done the same for the Vanguard already? Asked to find some wayward Guardian who bit off more than they could chew) and mourn them if they can’t be saved.

To be honest, Geoff and Jack are all about that side of things with the idiots they’ve joined up with, you know? Michael and Jeremy are one thing, get into trouble for the hell of it sometimes, but Ryan and Gavin?

Those two get up to trouble because they’re too damn stupid. Go off on their own into Dead Zones and everything else all the damn time, wander the wilds for weeks on end where communications are spotty and they won’t know they’re in trouble until long after the fact.

Ray’s even worse, but he’s one of the most capable Lightbearers any of them have met so it’s. Bad, but the whole trust thing?

(And anyway, there won’t be a time they aren’t worrying about any of their idiots, so. Yes.)

Maybe this Guardian business isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Still takes a while before they decide to throw their lot in with them, move to the Tower, but eventually they do.

Have this hidden base of sorts in the wilds all nice and locked down in case something goes wrong – Cabal attacking the city and cutting off their link to their Light, for example – and other hidey spots and boltholes all over the system because.

Paranoia for good reasons and being prepared, and anyway, anyway.

They have this little section of the Tower for their group, little clan, if you will. Pick up new Guardians every so often. Freshly resurrected or ones they hit it off with when the Vanguard sends them on strikes and the whatnot.

Lindsay and Trevor and this whole slew of new idiots Geoff and Jack watch over in their own way.

Gavin is thrilled at not being the only Hunter in the bunch when they find Alfredo. (Or maybe he finds them???)

Anyway, there’s this feeling of safety, security they have now they didn’t before being part of something bigger than themselves. (Not perfect, because the Vanguard can be horrifically shortsighted at times, but they’re doing their best.)

Also?

Loot.

Lots of loot and glimmer and that’s the important thing.

Really.

#ragehappy #fahc destiny au #rogueghost #Prompt Fills #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #i just #have FEELS about pre-Tower era or whatever it's called #i'm also bad at game lore #so my timeline for this is probs jumbled up #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[motherlifesucher-archives]

Overcomplicated l Shawn Mendes Imagine.

(a/n): heyyyy! this is kinda based on the song “Why”. It was supposed to be posted earlier but here was a 6,6 mini earthquake on my country lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

summary: The more famous they became, the hardest it turned for Shawn &(Y/N) to confess their feelings, but the Grammys might the the push they needed.

The first thing Shawn did to celebrate his Grammy nominations was to dial one of his closest friends, (Y/N), who had also scored three nominations, and they were both nominated for Best Pop Vocal Album with their self-titled albums, and Song of The Year. 

They freaked out over the phone, even if they were across the world. They wanted nothing more than to just hug each other and have a Grey’s Anatomy marathon to celebrate. 

He then called Camila, who teased him saying both of her friends’ being nominated on the same category should be a sign that he should find the guts to ask (Y/N) out.

He laughed at his friend before hanging up and trying to understand what the fuck was going on.

Soon enough his phone couldn’t stop vibrating from people congratulating him. Family, friends, people on the industry. He even scored a call from both James Corden and Ellen DeGeneres. 

Geoff teased his friend saying he should ask (Y/N) out before the ceremony, just in case he won and she didn’t want to see him again. They both laughed knowing she’d never do that, but it seemed like his friends were running out of ideas to make him ask her out on a date, but nothing seemed to work out.

He remembered the chills that ran down his spine when he saw her presenting in the Golden Globes next to Timothée Chalamet. She looked gorgeous. He always found it hard to keep his attention on the stage when she was next to him, and the Grammys wouldn’t be the exception. 

Should he ask Andrew to call the awards production and ask to not be seated next to her? 

No, of course it would find its way to the public and she’d be hurt. Besides, Camila had already texted him saying the three would be sitting pretty close with Taylor Swift. 

Hell, even Taylor Swift had tried to play matchmaker while she was visiting her on tour and he got to perform!

There was a part of him aching to see what her lips would feel against his. How disheveled her hair would look right after waking up in the morning. To be the inspiration behind her songs. To be the reason why her eyes shone so bright and her smile grew bigger just because she saw him.

He knew she already was his inspiration. The impotence of seeing her and not being able to declare his love was driving him crazy, and he knew the only one who could fix that was himself, but there was too much at stake.

Their friendship was precious; they understood each other in a way not many people could, and it wasn't because they both were in the public eye, but because they understood each other on a cellular level. It was like they were the same person and he knew there was a bright future for them.

He just needed to grow some balls and do the right thing. 

Everyone around him said she felt the same way, but Shawn only dismissed them with a sigh smile while shaking his head in denial. They were only doing it so that he could grow the confidence to do what his heart desired so deeply. 

He couldn’t help but torture himself with other possible scenarios. What if he had never dated Hailey and instead he had asked her out? At that point his feelings for (Y/N) were clear, yet he still went out with the model.

What if he had asked her out the moment he saw her for the first time almost six years ago?

Was he overcomplicating things? Probably. 

-

Nerves were taking over his body as he got out of the limo, only to be bombarded with flashes and screams of his name.

He politely waved before posing and paying attention to a girl with a clipboard giving him instructions. 

He then was walked to the red carpet, patiently waiting for his turn while greeting people. He started making conversation with Niall before the entire room lit up in front of him.

There she was.

Wearing the most gorgeous gown he had ever seen. Was it because she was the one wearing it? Probably. 

He noticed the way her smile grew ten times bigger when she saw him, and even with her uncomfortable dress she made her way towards him and hugged him.

“It’s so good to see you!” She tightened the embrace before letting go of him. 

“You look beautiful,” He said and noticed Niall hiding his smirk from the side. 

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself,” She smiled before quickly greeting Niall who was being ushered to the red carpet. 

“So, I heard we are sitting next to each other,” She said excitedly. 

“And next to Camila and Taylor. It’s gonna be awkward when one of us wins” He chuckled and she softly hit his arm.

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m honestly not expecting to win, are you?”

“You gotta have some confidence in yourself, babe,” He said and she felt the color rush to her cheeks.

They knew that even in the small tent where they waiting, people were snapping pictures of both of them. Shawn wanted to add something when a woman in a black dress with a sign with his name interrupted, saying it was time to walk down the carpet.

“Meet me in the carpet?” He asked and she smiled.

“You can count on it, rockstar,”

it was his time to blush at her words before following the woman, and soon enough he was met with tons of flashes and people telling him to give them smiles and posing in different angles. 

He soon moved down the carpet and saw the same woman appear with a sign with her name. 

He felt his attention shift from the photographers to her, as she cautiously stepped on the red carpet and started posing like she was born to do it. 

She noticed him and sent a wink and a smile before she continued with her work. Soon enough people started screaming both their names and she carefully walked to him.

He took a couple of steps to meet her halfway and offer her a hand, making everyone go crazy. She giggled before placing her hand on his shoulder as he put his on her waist. They continued posing for a couple of minutes before they went back to solo pictures. 

The moment they were out of that part of the carpet they laughed and took a breath, now they were being pushed to different interviews and people asking for pictures. The scene was very crowded, but they were approached by an E! News producer who said they both were on the list of interviews and if they minded doing the interview together because time was running out.

They agreed and noticed Giuliana Rancic was waiting for them. Shawn again offered his hand and helped his friend with the steps while being careful to not step in her dress. 

“Well, see who we have here! Two of the biggest names in the music industry right now and multiple nominated artists tonight, Shawn Mendes and (Y/N)!” Giuliana introduced them and some people surrounding cheered while they greeted to the camera. 

“Thanks for having us,” Shawn replied with his charming smile. 

“You two look absolutely incredible. Ladies first, who are you wearing? Because I have to say that seeing you back in the Globes and tonight makes you climb to the top of the list of the best dressed during this awards season!”

“My God, you are so nice! Thank you so much! Well, tonight I'm wearing Christian Dior from head to toe,” She motioned her dress and shoes. 

“Well, you make this dress look ten times more beautiful, don’t you agree?” Giuliana asked Shawn.

“Absolutely, I think I’ve said she looks stunning like ten times since we arrived,” He said trying to play it cool, but his hands were sweating.

“Aren’t you a charmer!” Shawn smiled at the camera before Giuliana asked him which designer was responsible for his looks.

“Tonight I'm wearing Armani,” He subtly showed his watch to the camera, earning a laugh from his friend. 

“Is there any pressure or nervousness since you two are nominated on the same categories?” “I don’t think so,” (Y/N) answered. “We have been friends for a while now, even one of our best friends, Camila, is nominated tonight and I think we are just thrilled to be recognized amongst so many great artists,”

“Yeah, if you think about it we are still young and got many years to come, but the fact that I get to be here with my best friends celebrating our work is just magical,” Shawn completed her answered and smiled to the interviewer. 

“Great, you guys are spectacular! Thank you so much for joining us and good luck! Especially for Shawn since he’s performing tonight!”

They said goodbye and Shawn again helped his longtime crush out of the small stage.

“Is it time to go to our seats?” (Y/N) asked Shawn who shrugged. 

Only fifteen minutes were left when the same woman on the black dress told them it was time to head inside the venue. They waved to the photographers scattered around the red carpet for the last time before entering.

Their seats were on the first row, they could see people filling the seats and the biggest names on the industry greeting each other. 

They were reaching their seats when they spotted Camila and her boyfriend. 

“I was wondering where you guys were!” Camila said excitedly and hugging (Y/N) while Shawn shook hands with Camila’s boyfriend, Matthew. 

“It’s so crowded outside you can barely move,” (Y/N) said adjusting her dress before taking a seat. 

“When are you supposed to go backstage?” Camila asked Shawn.

“Uhm, I think I have to go during the first commercial break,” Shawn said and both Camila and (Y/N) clapped in excitement. “Please don’t embarrass me during the presentation,” Shawn teased them.

“Not a chance! We’re your biggest fans AND your best friends, of course we are going to embarrass you in front of the world!” (Y/N) said and hugged Shawn’s waist, completely ignored the look Camila gave Shawn. 

“You guys are so annoying,” Shawn wrapped his arm around (Y/N) and softly kissed the top of her hair. 

Camila almost squeaked in excitement. Why weren’t they together yet?!

-

Ariana Grande had beat both Camila and (Y/N) for the award of Best Pop Solo Performance, making them laugh and cheer loudly for the brunette in stage. 

The ceremony was coming to an end when the category where the three friends were nominated, the Best Pop Vocal Album category was up. Camila interlaced her fingers with her boyfriend when the camera was in front of her as her name got announced, closely followed by Shawn and (Y/N) that smiled at each other. 

“And the Grammy goes to,” Bruno Mars opened the envelope, “(Y/N)!” 

Everyone jumped from their seats except from the winner, who covered her mouth and slowly rose from her seat. 

Shawn engulfed her in a hug so tight while whispering congratulations on her ear. He almost let impulses get the best of him and kiss her lips, but he only kissed her cheek before letting her go. 

The entire audience cheered when Shawn helped her to the stage, carefully adjusting the back of her dress on the stairs before cheering for her. 

Her speech was shaky an emotional as she held her award. But the best part for Shawn was when he felt the camera next to his face, but nothing could erase the smile as she thanked him. 

“People say it’s hard to meet real people on this industry, but I just look here on the first row. Camila Cabello, Taylor Swift, and of course Shawn Mendes. Incredibly talented people who deserve to win just as much as I do. And a big support for me during this process has been this man standing here,” She pointed at Shawn. “Thank you for being my friend and guiding me through this process. I wouldn’t be the same without you and I love you, you are the best friend in the world,”

She continued mentioning her family, but Shawn knew there was something igniting inside of him and it was nothing like he had felt before. 

That something followed him the entire night. 

It was the courage to finally make his dreams come true and be with her. 

Love her. 

That was the reason why he didn’t let go of her during the entire night as they made appearances on the various after parties. 

They were getting drunker as the night passed by. He could feel her leaning on his shoulder, trying to find warmth since she had changed her dress into a short one and chills were covering her body. 

Her face was hidden on his neck during the majority of the night. They had lost their friends now as they stepped inside Post Malone’s after party. Paparazzi were having a field day as they walked inside with linked arms and she hiding her face and Shawn shielding her from their view. 

“Should we dance? I think we’ve had too much to drink,” She giggled and took his hand. 

Shawn smiled as she let another button on his shirt loose, exposing his chest. They were dancing, carefully trying no to bump into other people as they giggled in the dark room. 

He felt her face getting close, she even smiled at him as their noses bumped into each other, but he knew he didn’t want this to be dismissed as a drunken decision, so he delicately separated their faces and offered her a drink.

He missed the devastated look the drunk Grammy winner gave him. 

-

Two weeks had passed since the Grammy awards and Shawn was isolated in his room watching Just Jared instagram stories. 

People were confused, and to be honest, so was him. 

Multiple pictures of him and (Y/N) had resurfaced after heir drunken night. People were speculating whether or not they were officially dating, if they had started dating just now if if this had been going on for years.

But just two days after this, pictures of his girl and Timothée Chalamet appeared, making everyone, Shawn included, confused. 

He didn’t call her again. He ignored her texts. He didn’t even bother to check her Instagram.

And she noticed the lack of presence of a certain tall boy in her life. 

She was giving up on trying to reach him when he finally texted back.

“Sorry. I've been busy, you wanna talk about something? I’m leaving LA tomorrow.”

Her heart skipped a beat and told him to meet her at her house. He agreed and she started to patiently wait for him to arrive. Later, she saw his car on the camera, she tried to look her best as she opened the door as he parked his car next to hers. 

She smiled shyly, “Hi,” 

“Hey there,” Shawn gave her a quick hug.

They stepped inside and the first thing Shawn noticed was the Grammy standing proudly on top of her piano. 

“It looks nice,” Shawn pointed at the award. 

“Thanks,” She thanked quietly. “How have you been?”

“Good, you?” He asked her. 

“All good, thanks,”

They stared at each other quietly. Shawn was going to ask her what the hell was going on with the actor when she interrupted:

“Are you mad because I won?” She blurted, making Shawn’s eyes widen. 

“What?” He asked in disbelief.

“You’ve been ignoring me. Is it because I won our category?” She asked while fearing the answer. 

“Are you crazy? Of course not!” He replied offended.

“Then why have you been ignoring me? What’s going on with you? We had a moment, things clicked and it felt right, but you just bailed on me!” She told him with her voice full of anger but it was soft. 

Shawn took a deep breath. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for yet fearing the outcome. He didn’t realize when his heart started to pound against his ribcage, but he calmed his breathing and started pouring his heart out. 

“I’m scared,” He confessed. “I really like you, and I have for a while now, ever since I saw you. But I'm scared because we are friends, and you mean a lot to me and I can’t help it. We are constantly in the spotlight, I don’t want them to damage what we already have, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you any less, because...” 

Shawn’s ramble was suddenly interrupted by a pair of soft lips against his own.

He instantly relaxed and everything felt natural. His hands fell on her waist as he drew her closer. Everything felt familiar yet strange, but the most important thing...

It felt right. 

#Shawn Mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes #shawn mendes au meme #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes smut

[sauveteen]

Burned Out Pt. 2 | s.m

this is part 2. catch up here.

warning: LONG ASS CHAPTER BECAUSE I HAD SO MANY IDEAS THAT I WANTED TO FIT IN UWU hope this makes you CRY / lots of build up i'm so soRrry (ran out of text blocks on this one so had to shorten it RIP)

The last time Shawn saw you was at his album launch party. He was reluctant to invite you, for reasons innumerable, but he couldn't not invite you either. He could tell you didn't want to be there, tell that you were all but shrivelling under the gaze of his friends and colleagues. Only you didn't know why until after you listened to the album.

To one's surprise but yours, you were his muse. Not for a song or two, like you had expected, but for an entire album. Titled Because I Had You, Shawn's fourth studio album was a sixteen track masterpiece lined with one heartbreak anthem after another. If you thought the title single was bad, the rest of the album had you sobbing in bed at night, stomach churning at the thought that the entire world was now a witness to what were supposed to be private moments, only for the two of you and no one else to see. It wasn't even the subtly sexual songs like Particular Taste that maddened you, but the way he wrote about your love. Bold, powerful, passionate — when, in reality, it was everything but.

What Shawn and you had was delicate. It was beautiful, like a dainty flower creeping through cracks in a cemented floor. Like a green leaf on an autumn day. Not what he wrote, and definitely not what his music videos portrayed.

And that was that. Whatever little hope you had harboured of Shawn being a nice person, of him respecting your wishes and leaving you the hell alone after what happened went down the drain. All you had expected from him after the terrible way he'd left you, no questions asked, was your private life back. No instagram posts, no tweets, and certainly no interviewers entertained. He had seemed sincere enough when he promised to do nothing of the sort, pinky finger held out to you in the adorable manner that only he could pull off. Your heart had lurched, then, calling yourself stupid to ever think that Shawn would disrespect you like that.

And then when the album came out — you hadn't told him not to write songs about you, had you? So it was only fair. He kept his end of the promise, he said. Never took your name, he said. But he did name you, in every other way possible. Your eyes. Your hair. Your scent. The books you read, the songs you sung. All out in the world for people to listen to, and pick you apart. All because he needed a banger of an album to top his previous ones and what better publicity than an unexplained, undramatic breakup, right?

In that moment, you'd said Fuck him and never looked back.

Until today. Despite pushing it back for as long as possible, your friends had coaxed you into hosting a party at your place, since you had completely distanced yourself for the best part of the year after the breakup. It hurt too much to see Shawn completely unbothered, drinking the night away, a girl that wasn't you snuggling into his side. God, you weren't jealous when you were together, so why did it hurt so much to see him with someone else when you two were apart? But your friends being your friends had managed to weasle their way back in, and here you are again. And here Shawn is again.

For the most part, you avoid him. You know he's been looking at you all night, stealing glances when his date doesn't isnt looking, his cheeks tinged red with the alcohol he'd been nursing, loud laughter reverberating through the room. Know he's been looking for signs of him all over your apartment, little titbits of the glorious time you had together.

Tough luck, champ, you scoff to yourself as you head towards the fridge to get out another case of beers out and ready on the counter. As soon as you were coherent enough to function again, the first thing you did was dump all his things in a storage unit and mail him the key. You couldn't bare even the briefest of conversations, and that was the best solution you could come up with at the time.

Well, everything except the ring. While all the love and fondness attached to the piece of jewellery had completely vanished over time, its value still remained. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get rid of it. Probably never will, either, but that's a story for another day.

But you digress. Currently, like always, you have more pressing matters on hand. Your fridge seems to be all out of Coronas, and while your friends like to act pretentious, no amount of Chardonnay can get them buzzing like a gold old bottle of beer. Sighing to yourself, you decide the only solution is a quick run to the liquor store, since you're the only one sober enough for the job. You smooth your dress down, grabbing your keys as you announce your departure to your shitfaced friends.

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes, tops. Please, for the love of God, do not touch my record player."

"Are we allowed to go into your lingerie drawer?" One of your friends, Kooper teases, raising his glass of scotch towards you. You grin, lifting a shoulder in response, "If you can find it, sure."

"I'm sure Shawn can help," Comes a slurred reply, and you can feel your cheeks start to redden. There's a couple of chuckles around the room, and before Shawn gathers his thoughts to respond, you're pulling the door shut behind you.

Shawn is left staring at the door, where you were standing mere seconds ago. His neck feels hot at the thought of going anywhere near your lingerie drawer again, so he chooses to keep quiet. Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, he tries to focus on what his date is saying (something about politics, he really doesn't understand a lot), but it's hard to ignore the dull ache in his heart, growing more painful with every second that passes.

You look gorgeous. Ravishing, almost. And Shawn's always known that, always questioned how exactly he ended up with a catch like you in the first place. Especially tonight, however, because you're wearing red and it's such a look against your tan skin that it has his mind spinning at the sight. The beer in his veins is enough to keep him floating a few centimetres above reality, chucking him into an alternate universe where he didn't break your heart and your trust, and you didn't hate him for either of those two.

His date places a hand on his thigh, and he reacts almost immediately. Although her touch is innocent, hands still animatedly flying around, his mind is everything but.

"Hey, babe," He interrupts sheepishly, "While I would love to talk about Trump for the rest of the night, is it cool if we... get out of here?"

Her smirk then is one that has him blanching in anticipation. It's just the right amount of teasing with a lethal amount of mischief as she grabs at his collar, leaning in close to whisper into his ear, "Why do you want to get out of here? We can do whatever you need, for however long you need, right here."

Even shitfaced, Shawn knows he's breaking every fucking rule in the How To Act Around An Ex 101 rulebook if he follows through with what she's suggesting. Normal exes don't even invite each other to their houses, let alone fuck someone else while they're out. That doesn't stop him though, because seconds later the pair are excusing themselves and stumbling blindly into a bedroom, her lips attached to his and his fingers digging into her sides.

He smells you the moment his back hits the bed, your citrus scent all he can remember from the time you two spent together. However, before he can mull on the fact that This might not be the guest bedroom, her fingers are tangling into his curls and body pressing against his front. The moan that tumbles out of his lips when she sucks at his neck is almost pornographic, appalled at how quick she found his spot.

Not as quick as you had, however — because the first time Shawn and you had gone to town was a day that he would never forget. You had him reeling and begging under you with just your fingers and mouth, placing your fingers against his chest to push him back down every time he got a little too excited. He had never been happier to lose control than in that moment.

Fuck, he thinks as his date's hand palms at his crotch, I really shouldn't be thinking about my ex right now.

Right now? His mind answers almost instantly, Pretty hard when you're literally always thinking about her, right?

He's so lost in his thoughts and her touch that he doesn't hear the door to the bedroom opening, or even notice the light that streams into the room from the corridor outside. However, when a voice exclaims, "Jesus fuck, Shawn!"

His eyes take a moment to adjust to the dim lighting of the room as he tries to figure out who it was that shouted at him, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that it's just Geoff. Not you. Thank fucking God for that. He rubs lazily at his face, turning away from the door, but Geoff isn't having any of it. Asking his date to please leave, he slams the door shut behind her, storming over to Shawn.

"What the fuck, dude?!"

"What?" Comes Shawn's annoyed mumble, "Jealous you aren't getting any?"

"How much have you had to drink?" He grabs Shawn's chin, inspecting his eyes to see just how red they are for him to pull some dumb shit like this. When he sees that he's not even close to being as drunk as Geoff first assumed him to be, he steps away. Scoffing in disgust, he continues, "You were going to have sex on your ex's bed? What is wrong with you?"

"I thought it was the guest bedroom."

"No the fuck you didn't, Shawn," He's pushing a hand through his hair, fingers clenching around his cup in anger, "You're still not satisfied with what you did? Wanna break her heart even further?"

"What the fuck are you talking about? It was a mutual breakup."

"Was it, though? Or were you just as self-centred then and didn't give a single shit about what she did or did not say?"

"Shut the fuck up, Geoff," Shawn gets up, pushing his friend away, but Geoff's fingers are curling around his arm before he can storm off.

"No, you listen to me. I've had enough of your bullshit. You're my brother, man, but she's more than a sister to me. It hurts me to see her hurting, and if you can't behave around her, just stop showing up. She's been through enough already. Can you imagine her reaction if she was the one who had walked in on you? It would've killed her, Shawn."

"I don't— what are you talking about? We're over. We've both moved on."

Geoff's scoff is painfully mocking, and Shawn is narrowing his eyes in anger, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Move on? It's almost sad how hung up on each other you guys are. You can't stop writing songs about her, and she can't stop—" Geoff trails off, catching himself before he can let anything spill. You would absolutely annihilate him, and that's not something he wants.

"What?" Shawn spits, "She can't what?"

"It doesn't matter," He mutters through grit teeth, "If you can man the fuck up and apologise for all the shit you've pulled on her, great. If you can't and want to continue being an ass so you can cash in your cheques, fucking fine by me. Just stop coming over when she's around. I didn't take taekwondo for nothing."

"You're not seriously threatening me."

"Try me."

"Fuck you, Geoff. You don't know jackshit about what happened between us."

"Yeah? Let me summarise, then. You got over her, you dumped her. Don't you dare make it sound any deeper than that," Shawn opens his mouth to protest, but Geoff isn't done yet, "And then you proceeded to make an entire album about your love, something so volatile and so private, and released it without her consent. She could've sued you for defamation, but she didn't. Do you know why?"

Shawn shakes his head, bottom lip latched between his teeth. There's so many thoughts running through his head that he doesn't even have the energy or the mental faculties to give his friend any attitude anymore. After the breakup, the both of you had managed to convince your friends that it was long coming, mutual, and amicable. Shawn had wanted it to be that way because he didn't want to be painted as a douche for springing something so sudden on you, and you had gone along with it because...well, he had no idea why. Maybe he should've asked.

"Because she's still in love with you, you fucking jerk. And it isn't my place to tell you this, but if it keeps you away from her, then so be it.You got over her, Shawn, but you didn't give her any time to ease out of it. You kept showing up with new girls every time, kept releasing these...these PG-13 sex tapes. The album was probably the final blow. With everything you did, her condition worsened, and we all saw it. We thought you did too, dude, because it was so painfully obvious."

There's a sour taste in Shawn's mouth, like the acidic tinge that puking leaves in your mouth. He's pretty sure he's completely sober now, but his mind keeps spinning, to the point where he has to sit down to steady himself.

"What have I done, Geoff?"

"I put up with this for as long as I possibly could, but it's not funny anymore. If not for her, please— for me, stop what you're doing. No amount of fame and money is worth the pain you put her through."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Shawn rubs at his face, trying to slap some reality back into him. He didn't break up with you because he got over you. He broke up with you because he was sure he never would. It took him a while to realise how toxic your relationship was getting for him, with no fault of your own. He had fallen and sunken so deep that if you had asked him to throw himself in front of a moving car, he would've done it, no questions asked. To the point where he was so dependant on you that it physically hurt him to leave you. Where he was so used to you helping him through his attacks that one without you make him felt like he was going to die.

His mom had called him stupid, told him that he had let the best thing in his life go because he couldn't commit. But Shawn knew love, and love wasn't supposed to be so scary. He cried because that was the most difficult thing he had done in his life, to date. Not even releasing a completely different genre of album, not knowing if anyone would enjoy listening to something so raw, had made him shiver so bad.

The last thing he wanted was to hurt you. He cared about nothing more than you. The album was a desperate cry for help, him putting out into the world just how much he needed you, as a friend or otherwise. Instead of forgiving him, you chose to distance yourself from him. In hurting you, he had completely broken himself. That's what they say, isn't it; play with fire, and you're bound to get burnt.

"Just— take it easy, man," Geoff claps a hand down on Shawn's shoulder, "The situation sucks over all, don't make it harder than it has to be. Also," He opens Shawn's palm, dropping your lost earring into his hand, "Put this back, 'kay? I don't know where it goes. l'll meet you outside."

Shawn nods solemnly, waiting until he hears Geoff's footsteps fade and the door click shut after him. Forcing himself to breathe, Shawn manoeuvres around your room, suddenly overwhelmed with the memories that surrounded his time there. The self-care nights, the pillow fights, the cuddling. The I love yous. He gulps, trying to see as little as possible of his favourite place in the world, pulling open a drawer in your vanity. Carefully dropping the earring on a glass tray, he moves it around a bit to make it easier for you to find it if you were looking for it.

Just as he's about to close the drawer, something catches his eye, causing him to pull the drawer open a little farther to inspect. Nestled behind one of your divider trays is a simple, tiny, royal blue suede box. Shawn's eyebrows furrow — He had never seen that before, had he? It could only hold a ring, he was a pretty sure, and he finds himself reaching towards the box before his conscience can stop him. He turns the small cuboid in his fingers, illuminated by the soft light mounted atop your vanity. Dried water drops stain the otherwise smooth surface, and his lips part in realisation not long after. That's not water, is it?

Deciding not to mull too long, he flicks the box open. Immediately, he desperately wishes he hadn't, because he feels his breath catch in his throat. Sitting inside the box is the most beautiful ring he's probably ever seen, silver and glinting in pride. As he brings it up to his face to inspect it better, he notices the strinking resemblance it has to his own ring, the one he had bought in Tokyo and never taken off after. There's two feathers interlinked together, just like on his ring, but there's a third, more intricate one binding the other two together in a perfect knot. He doesn't know what to make of it, doesn't know why he found it in your drawer, so he stands there. Twisting the ring in his finger, trying to convince himself that it has nothing to do with him.

And then the light catches the inscription on the inside of the band, and Shawn steps closer to the table to see better, eyes narrowed and nose scrunched in concentration.

120915 to forever, I'll love you.

12th September 2015 — Shawn doesn't even need to rack his brain to remember that that was the day you had first told him that you loved him. You were both strolling through the park, laughing about the fact that were people in the world who bit their ice creams, when you had stopped him midstep. Leaned in, kissed his nose, and told him that you loved him. The blush that coloured the both of your faces after was the most fiery shade of red that Shawn had seen. 120915; the last track on his album.

Shawn's mind is immediately thrown into a frenzy. He would be an idiot if he tries to deny the fact that the ring in his hand is most certainly an engagement band, because it looks too expensive to be a promise ring and the two of you had already exchanged your promise rings a year back. But when, how, and why? Why is there an engagement ring so obviously designed for Shawn just sitting in your drawer? Why are there tear stains on the box? Why does the forever looked like it had been scratched at?

Slamming the drawer shut, he all but stumbles out of the bedroom, making a beeline towards your kitchen. If his date sees him or any of your friends notice his panicked state, they choose not to comment on it, distancing themselves from the distressed boy. Slowly but surely, each of them trickle out as Shawn digs through your kitchen cabinet, looking for a file he knows would answer all his questions. When Geoff is the only one left, he contemplates staying. He owes you that much — not leaving you alone with an ex that you're still head over heels for, but he decides against it. You deserve the closure. The both of you deserve and need the closure, and if it means leaving you to deal with your vices, then he is ready to make the sacrifice.

Shawn doesn't notice a single thing around him, all his attention focused on the binders sprawled across him on the island. Carefully thumbing through the files, he ticks off the months in his head — July, August, September, October, November. Immediately flipping to the month of November, he pulls out all the receipts you had so carefully filed and spreads them in front of him. Wild eyes flying across the documents in hopes of finding what he's looking for.

And not long after, he does. A tiny, barely noticeable piece of paper, labelled Bijoux, avec Amour — Jewellery, with Love — printed on the top in cursive. He swears his heart plummets to the very core of the earth when he sees the date on the bill: 7th November 2018.

Not even two weeks before he left you.

His mouth dries out, and he has trouble inhaling. Falling to his knees, Shawn stares between the box and the receipt, feeling his body shake with sudden, overwhelming fatigue. His head feels heavy, like it's been bashed against a stone and left wide open, waiting to be stitched up. His breaths are coming out exaggerated, wild, making it seem like he's just run a marathon. He has, though, hasn't he? He's raced against time. Against your love for him. And Jesus Christ has he lost.

It doesn't take a genius to join the dots with all the hints laid out right in front of him — literally. You were going to ask him to marry you, and he had taken that hope, balled it up, and spat it back into your face. Maybe he should've had another track on his album, a track about how much of an idiot he had been. He would've titled it I'm Worse Than a Fucking Munchurian Ball.

You expect chaos when you return, because really, what good can a bunch of drunk adults get up to? And chaos you get, but definitely not the kind you had anticipated. At first you're confused to see your house empty, no signs of life anywhere. You weren't gone for that long, were you? And then your attention pans to the kitchen, and suddenly you're living that day again. Shawn staring back at you, teary eyed, hands in fists, and you helplessy trying to maintain his gaze.

You immediately start assumed the worse. He's hurt, he had an anxiety attack, his date did something. When you rush towards him, however, dropping the bags in your hands and falling to your knees, you see what you had never, ever wanted to see. His ring — in his hand. He's holding it up to you, so close to your face that you have to lean back to get a better look. Your hands are balling into fists at your sides, stomach twisting into knots. When your gaze falls to the bills strewn on the counter, you know you're done for. Shawn knows. He knows everything.

Fuck.

"Shawn," You try to keep your voice as level as possible, but it inevitably starts breaking, "Where did you find that?"

"You wanted to marry me," Shawn's voice is monotonous, his eyes glazed over. He can barely meet your eyes, gaze focused behind you instead, "You wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. And I.... I fucking dumped you."

You have seen Shawn cry before. Seen him breakdown before. Never, ever had he sounded as defeated as he does right now, like the very life had been sucked out of him, like it was paining him to utter mere words.

Exactly how you had felt all this while.

"Shawn..."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"This," he wags the ring in your face, sniffling loudly, "Was this with you when I broke up with you?"

You nod, feeling your heart pull at the sight of him so... so distressed, so lost. You can feel tears of your own starting to form, but you try pushing them back. This time, however, it doesn't work. They start flowing down your face like fireworks on the 4th of July; loud, uninterrupted, and seemingly with no end. You fall limply against the counter, feeling Shawn watch your every move. Wiping beneath your nose with the back of your hand, you manage to choke out, "Yes.. and—and I was so fucking sure you were going to say yes when I asked you. And then you—"

You can't find it in yourself to continue, and Shawn's hands go into his hair, tugging at the roots in utter frustration and helplessness. He had claimed that the both of you had moved on not even an hour ago, and now he can't even find it in himself to laugh at the irony of the situation. Two adults, crying on a kitchen floor. What a fucking joke.

"You should've told me," Shawn mutters through tears, rocking back and forth, "God, if only you had told me— it would've changed everything."

It's your turn to be angry now, and your body shivers as you spit, "Told you so you could laugh at me? Tell your friends about the girl who proposed to you as you were breaking up with her?"

"No! No, you don't get it, do you? I would've said yes. I would've called a priest and married you then and fucking then."

"No," you mutter, shaking your head. Louder, you repeat, "No, you don't get to do this. You don't get to feed me these lies and these Would Haves and What Ifs!" Pushing against his chest, you sob harder, "You didn't get to leave me! But you did. You left me when I was so in love with you that I could see nothing else. Fuck you, Shawn. Fuck you for leaving me."

"Slap me."

"Shut up."

He grabs your hand, placing it against his wet cheek, all but begging you, "Please, slap me. Punch me. I fucking deserve it."

You pull your hand away, cradling it to your chest, as if his touch burns you, "I don't want to fucking slap you! It won't fix anything."

"What— what will fix everything?" Shawn's hiccuping now, eyes red from his tears, "What can I do to go back? What will it take for you to forgive me?"

"I don't know, Shawn," You reply between fits, shaking your head, "I don't know if you can fix this."

"I'll do anything," Shawn whispers, "I'll do anything to be able to love you again. I'll marry you, for fuck's sake. I'm not the same without you," He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head, "I won't ever be the same. You're like... this part of me that I won't ever get back. Life's been a living hell without you. Don't you feel it too?"

You can feel your determination frailing, weakening, but you're not giving into him again. You're never giving into the pain that is Shawn ever again, so you wipe your tears away, putting your brave face on, "I don't. I really don't. I agreed with you on something I shouldn't have once already, Shawn. I'm not doing it ever again. As a wise man once told me, I don't deserve that. If a constant rotation of girls and a rocket to fame are a living hell for you," You inhale audibly, convincing yourself that this is where it ends. There's no going back from here. "Then I wish you the best of luck. But you can't fix this. Not now, not ever."

"But—," He's pushing himself up, making his way towards you, and you cower away. Something breaks inside the both of you, something so delicate that it can't ever be put back. Not by each other, and certainly not by someone else. Shawn's head drops, and you can almost feel the words emanating off his self before he even speaks, each word laced with pleading, "I love you. Please."

Your tears haven't stopped still, and they probably never will, but you can't let yourself go through the same thing again. No matter how much you love him, no matter how hard he tries to convince you that he loves you too, you know for a fact that the gaps between the two of you couldn't be a bridged by a couple of sorrys and a kiss. It would require something much more sacrificial, like jumping headfirst into the emptiness and hoping, praying that you could steady yourself along the way. You would rather head towards uncertainty than doomed failure.

"I'm sorry, Shawn. You should've thought about that before striking the match."

TAGLIST: @babywhenithinkaboutyou @catalinamgarcia @shawnm521 @holybrandt @fuckneymar @brenda-sucks @livelifesosily @yourwonderbelle @astromendes @ashwarren32 @grunge-pun-kat @truly-l @sunflowerinthefield

#shawn #imagine #mendes #shawnmendes #blurb #angst #fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagine #breakup #burned out

[calliecat93]

Red vs Blue Season 17 Review, Part One

On March 9th, 2019, Red vs Blue: Singularity premiered at last. After the monster cliffhanger of S16, to say that many of us had been anxious would be an understatement. Well, it’s several months later and the season has concluded it’s 12 episode run. So, was it good? Was it bad? Well… that’s a hard question to answer. But however we feel, we’re going to be going over it today in my Season 17 Review~!

This baby got a Hell of a lot longer than intended, so hopefully, it’s coherent. I tried to be firm, but honest. No matter what I think though, there is no arguing that these people put in a lot of work to make this season a reality. I never want that fact to be ignored. So thank you Jason, Miles, Josh, Austin, Greg, Joe, RT Animation, and everyone else for all the hard work. Couldn’t have been easy, but we appreciate it all the same~!

So with that said, for the final time, let us talk about Red vs Blue Season 17.

Visuals/Machinima

This season was unique in that not only was Halo 5 still being us, but they had to go back and use all the past renditions as well. It looked like they were going to use Halo 2 Anniversary for the paradox stuff, a familiar yet different design, but I guess someone decided it was better to just reuse the older games. Which I think was probably the right choice. Halo 2 Anniversary I think would have helped add this feeling of everything being off, but at the same time seeing the previous versions helps connect to the moments more. It adds more emotional investment since we’re seeing something that we recognize being fucked with. It meant more work for the Machinima team, and I hope that they’re all still alive and had a nice vacation after it was all over cause yikes. Their efforts are greatly appreciated~

The machinima was overall very good. Josh Ornelas has been with the show for six years as a machinimator and directed at least a few episodes of S14. So he was more than fit to be a co-director for this season. Austin Clark is newer and IDK when he started (my guess is around 14 or 15), but I think he’s shown that he’s perfectly capable both as a machinimator and as a director. I never noticed any issues with the machinima that threw me off… but as usual, it’s hard to critique what are essentially video game movements/defaults. Very least whenever the characters were emotional or something, I got the feeling from how the scene was framed. Even though you can’t see the faces, the machinimators know how to frame it to make you feel the intended emotion. Episode 9 with Carolina and Wash’s talk I think demonstrated that. Yeah, the VA-ing helped, but you can see the emotion, even though there’s no emotion to display. And while Austin handled the even-numbered episodes and Josh the odd ones, everything felt like they were on the same page, which is essential when co-directing. They both did an excellent job directing.

Animation was sadly sparse compared to the last season. Wasn’t bad though. There were some good bits, like the opening credits and Wash directing his gun at Genkins in Episode 3. Oh. and Genkins getting stabbed with his own golf club was pretty gruesome, especially with his writhing around, but seeing the original Halo animated was nice. We only got one fight scene, but it was Carolina vs Carolina and it was badass. Not as creative as the Donut vs O’Malley fight, but still really good and impactful. Loved it!. The sets and effects were all very good. Just look at the opening. The effects used for The Everwhen looked really cool and other-worldly. The Labyrinth looked pretty creepy, as it should be considering its true nature. And of course, all the previous Halo’s still looked good… maybe a little dated with Halo: CE but still as good as it did in the remaster.

Overall, visually speaking, the season was really good. The machinima looked great and was directed competently. I felt engaged, and that’s what’s important. Definitely one of the season high points.

Voice Acting/Music

We’re mainly going to be discussing Dan Godwin, Shannon McCormick, Jen Brown, Ricco Fajardo, and Lee Eddy. Everyone else in the main cast was pretty much at the expected level of quality. There’s sadly not much to talk about specifically, which we’ll go more into during the character section. But Joel, Matt, Gus, Geoff, Becca, and Jason Saldana all did well and gave the quality that I expect from them, just nothing that stands out really. I’ll say this, Geoff and Becca’s performance in the finale was very strong and emotional and I loved it. Matt he both got to do Wyoming again and had to do Doc and O’Malley at the same time, which he nailed perfectly. And hearing Burnie as Church again was really nice… but never let him do English Lopez again. Ever.

Let's talk about villains first. Ricco Fajardo as Genkins is freakin’ fantastic. While we got glimpses of it last season, Genkins fun but truly shitty self is on full display this season. And Ricco is clearly having the time of his life recording it. He’s just always so cheerful and having fun, but it feels so messed up and sadistic due to the circumstances. But he owns it. Sometimes having a villain who is just shitty can be fun, especially if you have a competent actor doing it. And Ricco absolutely nailed it. We also have Lee Eddy, who voiced 479er, make her return to RvB as Chrovos. She too is clearly having a fun time. She goes full-on Large Ham with Chrovos’ theatrics and basting but also portrays her getting fed up very well. It’s the Gwen in her showing, haha. But yeah, these are two fun villain characters, and the performances very much reflected that. Loved it~

Next, we have our Freelancers, Shannon and Jen. They both got the emotions hard this season. Which considering how their plot ended last season, is no surprise. It’s no shock that these two did very well, but… man… Jen had to express a lot of guilt, but also a lot of tears and pain. Which she did very well. Carolina feels terrible and has to accept that her efforts were in vain, and Jen conveyed that very well. The second that Carolina breaks down in Episode 9… God, I just wanted to hug her. Then there’s Episode 11 where Carolina is confronting her past self, and it truly does feel like two different characters, even though it’s the same actress. It was a very strong performance this season, arguably her best one yet.

Then we have Shannon. Oh golly, Shannon. How long has he been doing Wash now? Over a decade, right? He knows this character in and out… and he perfectly shows that this season. Wash has a lot to get through this season. His anger at Carolina, him having to accept what happened, accept what has to happen, it’s a lot. Shannon nails it. From going back and forth between normal and crazy in Episode 3 to any time his anger at Carolina showed, to his talk with Carolina in Episode 5, his acceptance of his fate and prepping for it in Episode 9, and his horror to seeing everyone die in 11. And he still got lighter moments, like his interactions with Donut, which were super enjoyable. Shannon just knocked it out of the park this season, and I loved it.

But of course, the one I have to give the biggest kudos to is Dan Godwin. While he has performed Donut since the very beginning… well, he only got to do so much since Donut only got to do so much. He never did a bad job, or he was on par with everyone else, but he simply wasn’t really allowed to go beyond ‘optimistic, innuendo-spouting moron’. That is, until now. Dan got to do so much this season. He got a full range to do with Donut that he really never got, or only got so briefly. He got to be emotional, he got to be angry, he got to be frustrated, he got to be utterly done with absolutely everything. And he conveyed all of that very well. Heck, I think the pitch even lowered a little bit compared to before, or it felt less squeaky as the season went on. It feels more like an in-between of Blood Gulch Donut and pre-Paradox Donut, which I think works. Overall, Dan got to show how much experience with the character he really has after so many years of not getting to, and he was by far the best performer due to it.

Everyone in the cast did great. Even for brief returns like Miles and Gray with the Mercs, Arryn Zech with Dr. Grey, and the Freelancers all did a great job. Jason Weight as Grif’s coach was also simultaneously hilarious and scary. He clearly put his all into it, anyways. As for the music… what? Ae we surprised that it was good? David Levy and Trocadero again delivered a solid soundtrack. The fact that we have to wait for both this soundtrack and still for the S16 soundtrack continues to upset me. But at least it means a lot of quality tracks whenever they do come out. Solid job overall from the music team.

Characters

So one of the problems with these reviews is I have to remember to look at things two ways: as a fan and as a critic. We had a lot of really good character stuff with some characters… and not so much with others. And looking at it as a fan and then as a critic causes two widely different perspectives regarding this section. Normally I’d rather get the negative out of the way, but to explain the negative I have to talk about the positives first. Hopefully, I don’t come off as too harsh, but I want to be honest in this review as well. So.. here we go.

Okay, happy first. The two main focuses of this season are Donut and Wash. Let's do Wash, and in turn Carolina, first. Wash… well, got put to the side last season for the most part. His plot was mainly focused on his brain damage that he didn’t know about and ended with his blow up at Carolina. Which we all know what that leads to. Here, Wash has to deal with the fallout of it. He gets to stabilize and be back to pre-brain damage and is determined to save the others… but his anger at Carolina is lingering. His arc this season is about him forgiving Carolina, helping Donut, and accepting his own fate. I think, overall, Wash had a very good arc. And this is coming from someone who is not that big of a Wash fan.

Wash’s anger at Carolina is understandable, but he realizes that she did it out of concern for him and never meant to hurt him, and especially after talking to her in Episode 5 and how even when paradox’d she still trusts him, he forgives her. Carolina, in turn, has to deal with the immense guilt of her actions… again. Yeah, the fact that we got another ‘Carolina is guilty’ story after Freelancer, S13, and S15, it’s feeling a little repetitive. But her emotions regarding it were very well written. You do really feel the remorse and understand why she did what she did. It makes it even worse when in Episode 9, Wash accepts what has to happen and Carolina has to accept it. It was one of the toughest scenes in the season but was such a beautiful, poignant moment for both. They still have problems, like Wash fears of losing everyone and Carolina has past issues lingering still over Freelancer and her family. But it’s safe to say that they’ve both become closer and stronger.

The biggest character of this season is, of course, Donut. This was a long time coming. Up until the end of the last season, Donut was probably the most underutilized character in the show aside from maybe Lopez and Doc. He went from a dumb but semi-competent rookie to a flamboyant, one-note joke character. Like after Blood Gulch I can't think of anything significant that he contributed. Recollection more or less wrote him out/killed him off, Chorus did nothing with him, and S15 also did nothing with him and even forgot him in certain scenes. S16 began to fix that, having Donut get annoyed at being ignored, nearly betray everyone, and then get into one of the shows best fight scenes by far. So we were building up for something for this season, and sure enough, it came and it came hard… was that at innuendo? Dang it Donut, you’ve influenced me too much!

This was developed for Donut that was loooong overdue. He further got frustrated with being ignored and belittled by everyone around him. He recognized his innuendo problem and tried to actively improve it. He showed some of that competence he had in Blood Gulch, piecing things together and actively taking charge since he understood things the most. When he told everyone off in Episode 7, it felt so satisfying because of how long he’s been treated like a nuisance when he was at worst a little annoying and TMI. He was willing, tried his best, and it really felt like he was finally allowed to be more than just a joke. It really made me like and appreciate Donut a LOT more than I did before. Like he used to not just be my least favorite Red, but my least favorite of the BGC. Now? He’s right below Grif and Simmons on the Overall Favorites List. Yeah, that’s a LOT of places.

Donut was great and I wouldn't change him getting him this development… but this development did come at a cost. That being development for everyone else. The other Reds and the Blues were shafted and shafted pretty badly. The first half of the season, they are trapped with no memory and go about how they would in that time period. Which okay, it’s necessary for the plot so we can overlook that one. They get restored in Episode 6… and they are STILL badly shafted. They are all joke characters, which does NOT work when we’re this deep in the plot. I mean we get some moments, like Tucker reliving his failure on Crash Site  Bravo and recognizing his fault over the past few seasons, Sarge has his scenario in Episode 11 that I thought was very insightful, but those are small moments. Sadly, Donut got too much attention. Even with Wash, him realizing how he was the Donut of Freelancer was more or less contributing to making Donut look good, as did Tucker’s moment. I like those scenes and I love Donut… but not everything had to be about him. He’s the main character, not the only one.

Let's do the Blues first. As I said, there were more or less just there and had no real major character development or effect on the plot. But that being said, they were given some legit good stuff. Tucker got it the best as he re-lived Crash Site Bravo and finally realized true leadership was. It was about stepping up when no one else would and when things were at their bleakest, not being the cool, macho guy like he kept acting like it was. Which after these past two seasons, was nice to see. I was one of the people who were perfectly fine with how Tucker was written the past two seasons because I could see why he had regressed. But I do know that a lot of people didn’t like it, and this feels like a good way to bring it all around. Have Tucker relive his worst moment, this time having to let it go through, and therefore truly remember what caused him to step up on Chorus: because he had to. It’s short, but it does its job and this along with his Labyrinth vision I think has really helped Tucker’s character immensely.

Caboose is overall pretty minor but had some good scenes like beating the shit out of Genkins in Episode 6 and figuring out how time travel worked before the others. It helps show that he’s an idiot, but he’s a smart idiot (if that makes any sense) and was a step up from his limited screentime last season. He also had my favorite line in the entire season (“These graphics look horrible!”). Sister was overall minor, but I’ll go into her later. You’ll see why when I get there. Doc was overall also minor and how the Hell he was in the Everwhen I’ll never know, but I do like him in the finale and finally getting a grip on O’Malley. He more or less is a combo of the two now and seems much more capable due to it, so that’s good. So yeah, while it may not have been a lot, the Blues and Doc were at least given something, which is better than nothing at all.

The Reds though… so you know how these past two seasons started giving them more development? You would think that since Donut is the main character, that would continue, right? Haha… nope! They went right back to ‘the comedy relief team who do absolutely nothing!’! Which after the past two seasons started to do more with them… yeah, this felt like a slap in the face. Sarge annoyed me this season. Mainly in Episode 7 where he was a hypocritical asshole about Donut’s betrayal, ignoring how he not that long ago betrayed everyone and was still feeling guilty about it. He was also the one primarily being a jerk to Donut, which did not do him any favors. I know it’s Sarge and he’s an asshole, so it’s not 100% unexpected… but I felt like it was pushed too much just to contribute to the ‘Donut is so unappreciated!’ arc. His speech in Episode 6 was hilarious though and I did like his Labyrinth vision showing that he can't handle both civilian or army life. It was surprisingly insightful in a way that I’m not used to with Sarge. So yeah, I feel his screentime was on par with Sister and Caboose at least.

Simmons… got nothing. Absolutely nothing. I mean the running gag where he kept seeing Donut shot was really funny, and it also meant he wasn't an asshole like Sarge. Heck, he seemed to be the only one willing to hear Donut out about saving them in Episode 7. And he did more or less point out how they could launch the gold club through the portal to stop Genkind from reigniting the paradox, which was minor but nice to see for him. Him not being a kissass anymore is also sticking, which seeing him back when he was pettier in Episode 2 did make me appreciate where he is now. The way that he was legit concerned for Donut during the ‘Wash shoots Donut’ gag also helps make it look like he at least cared about him in contrast to Sarge’s jackassery. But he was otherwise just there. Very least, it also means he was the only Red that I didn’t get frustrated about since his character remained consistent… until the finale with the utter bullshit that was his nightmare. Seriously guys, what the fuck?!

But at least with Sarge and Simmons, they weren’t exactly in the spotlight last season, so I don’t feel like I got cheated with them. I cannot say the same about Grif, however. Which we will cover that, as well as the Story section, in Part Two.

(Part Two)

#rvb #rvb17 #rvb spoilers #rvb reviews #callie reviews

[sorcererinthestars]

A very happy belated birthday to my darling @shadeofazmeinya. My apologies for not being around much this weekend, but to make up for it, here is a birthday ficlet! I hope you enjoy!

unedited, so sorry if it makes no sense!

Loosely inspired by this beauty by the one and only @fahchaus

---

A wedding was not seen often in the lands of the Gods. Particularly a union between so powerful gods as the Solar Queen and the Wild One. The humans below had even felt a Stirring - something was happening as the sun and the shadows seemed to shift on themselves. It was a feeling of mystery, similar to the one that gripped hearts in the center of an unknowing wood. Not bad. Just ... unsettling. Like a higher power was now changing and the way the world works would be forever changed. For the Pantheon, well, they were just thrilled that such a happy union was able to be created right under their noses. They turned their small world into a utopia, a beautiful place for a wedding. Their Tree - the giant Tree, the One Tree - was decked out in floating lights. Flowers and garlands were strewn everywhere. Michael watched the whole affair from the throne in the sky. He wasn’t hiding, per se. Not really. Hiding meant he didn’t want to see the others and that wasn’t true at all. He wanted to see them. Especially Gavin. But he felt kind of ill. Binding a human union was broken by death. A godly union couldn’t be broken by anything at all. They could throw away the rings, sure, but they’d still be Bound by blood and magic. It was a strong Oath. Jack - it was always Jack - landed next to him after about an hour of sulking. His feet hung off the edge of the platform and he gave Michael a bit of a smile, flowers braided into his beard for the festivities. “Nervous?” “No!” Michael snaps. He shifts, hoping not to muss his ceremonial clothing. His pink armor was gone for now, but his pink sword stayed. Instead, he was shirtless, his clothing simple but somehow made magnificent by the swirls of magic glyphs painted on his skin like war paint. Binding Runes, given to him by the Creator - Ryan.  “Yes,” Jack just chuckled. “It’s okay to be nervous, Michael. I haven’t said I’ve ever wed before, but the humans pray to me sometimes when they do it, and it seems like they all have marvelous times.” “They’re humans...,” Michael murmurs. “It’s different.” “Maybe,” Jack shrugs, squeezing his leg a bit in solidarity. “But the Solar Queen has always been there for you. You love him. This is just binding the Wild Places with the Sun. It’s helping the world Below. And it’s helping you. I don’t think its something to be frightened of.” Michael frowns and looks below, catching sight of a small retinue by the machines. The flash of light too powerful to be anything that wasn’t his Lover. His Gavin. He frowns but can’t help the flash of longing in his throat. Jack chuckles. “Look at you. Pining when he’s just down below. You’re smitten. Just give it a few more hours and you’ll be together. I promise.”

*** Jeremy had to wear special glasses to get Gavin ready for his big day. The man was positively glowing in excitement. No nerves here, just enthusiasm. He was the one who proposed, after all, and the Sun never really dimmed on his love. He was a man who had dark moods, dreadful moods, but not today.  Shimmering, he seemed to wear cloth spun from the very rays of sunlight he controlled. White and shining, they draped over his body, gold bands around both arms. A halo of sunlight wrapped around his head. Jeremy finished the last of the draping and stepped back to admire his work. “Hell,” he huffs. “I’d hate to get blood on this.” Gavin shot him a look. “I’ll incinerate you, you knob.” Snorting, Jeremy shook his head. “I’m clean, I promise. And hey, this marriage thing doesn’t mean you can get out of helping me with the blood .. you know that, right?” The other chuckled and his grin was positively menacing. “No, of course it won’t,” he purrs. “I want to see what happens when we finally active the minging thing anyways.” “You two seem to be almost done,” a third voice pitched in. It was warm and dark and the man who carried it seemed to have an aura of night around him, sparking like the spots of stars reflected in the warm pools of shadows that condensed in every footstep.  They didn’t often show off like this. But this was a special occasion and they all felt the need to act their best. The Dark God brushed his fingers over his Solar Queen’s face, just gently. “Seems like you finally found the perfect fit for your energy,” he smiles. “I’m happy for you.” Gavin seemed to shine a bit brighter and he laughs. “I’m not dying, you mong, I’m just moving into Michael’s cabin. Works on as usual tomorrow.” Ryan smiles back, chuckling too. “I suppose, but I won’t be surprised to see your mantles both change a bit because this. The Solar Queen and the God of the Wild Ones may be forever changed.” Gavin frowns a bit, his heart skipping a beat, but he swallows back the fear. “We’re ready for this.” Ryan bowed his head a bit. “I’m sure you are.” ** The wedding was a small affair, in the end. They didn’t have any other followers except them on the island anyways. They even dressed Geoff up and got him to leave his chickens for the party. The man had hugged both Gavin and Michael and gave them his best. He said he’d name chickens after them... which was a big step, seeing who had killed the most of his beloveds. When Gavin came through the gates and into the farm where they all waited by the tree, Michael thought his heart was going to stop in joy. The Creator, Ryan, officiated the ceremony. It was soft and sweet, but the binding magic felt firm around them both. When they kissed, the small crowd erupted in joy. Michael almost couldn’t let go, his head dizzy from the warmth and power of his lovely boy. The rings seemed to echo that power... they were One now, for better or for worse. The sky seemed brighter to Michael, but maybe that was just excitement. But he could have sworn he saw a tree extend a few leaves Gavin’s way... a True sign of the Lord of the Wilds. ** It was quiet when they finally got back to their small cabin after the ceremonies were complete. They closed the doors and were finally alone together, staring at each other across the pool of light from their small torches. Gavin was still glowing slightly, but looked tired. It didn’t dampen the smile across his face. Michael stepped forward, putting his sword to the side. “Hello,” he purrs, pulling Gavin closer to him a bit. His boy laughed. “Hi.” They kissed then, soft but demanding, passionate in the way that the kiss at the wedding could not be. Michael twisted his hands in the fabric and yanked him close, pulling his Solar Queen against his body as Gavin’s arms wrapped around his waist. They kissed as if the other was air, was life, was warmth.  When they pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, Michael laughed and Gavin did too, until they were both cackling, unable to understand the magic that now tied them together. Michael looked down at his ring, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe we went through with it,” he whispers. “Second thoughts?” Gavin asks, a bit of anxiety in his tone. “Jack was saying...” “Jack needs to learn to keep a fucking secret,” Michael retorts, pulling him in for another soft kiss. “I’m not having second thoughts. Anything but. I’m just... it’s a lot.” “It is,” Gavin said, kissing at his neck while Michael spoke, before pulling back a bit. “But for now, it’s our wedding night, and I want to see how many of those war paint sigils I can break before morning.” Michael’s smile is bright. “Come on, then, you.” The sun may be setting down on their little island, but the start of a new life was just beginning. Down a bit on their Island, the other Gods smiled, knowing that they had started a new life, a new generation of happiness in their world. And down below, humans celebrated without knowing why, without fully grasping the triumph of the heavens. For now the Wilds, once dark and full of terror, were tamed by the Solar Queen. And the brightness of the sun now brought new life where there wasn’t one before. All hail the Union and let it burn bright.

#me #my writing #ah king au #ah sky factory au #happy birthday dearest!! #shadeofazmeinya

[deansmyapplepie]

Only You - Chapter 7

Title: Crashing Down

Summary: When a man who left the reader six years ago suddenly reappears on her doorstep, she does everything she can to stop herself from falling in love with him all over again. Little does she know that his seemingly brief return will open an entirely new chapter for both of them.

Only You Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Tags: protective!Dean, sweet!Dean, flashbacks, nightmares, flirting

Word Count: 3,559

(Gif not mine)

You stumbled into the break room tiredly, sitting down at the plastic table in the corner and allowing your head to fall down onto it with a thump.

"You all right there?" Linda asked, looking amused from over the top of her phone screen. Groaning loudly, you propped yourself up with your elbows. Your hair was in a halo of frizz all around your head, and you were well aware you looked like a hot mess.

"I just finished my rounds," you answered. Linda's eyes widened slightly.

"Just now? Jesus, what took you so long?" she joked. You held up a finger at her.

"Don't test me," you warned. Linda let out a snort of laughter.  The sound of the door swinging open had both of you turning around.

"Good morning, ladies!" Geoff called out cheerfully. You groaned again.

"What's so good about it?" Geoff chuckled as he approached the table.

"The answer to that question, my dear Y/N, is that I come bearing coffee and donuts." He plopped down a drink carrier with three large coffees and a paper bag, and your mood instantly brightened. If there was anything that could get you out of a bad mood, it was food.

"I take it all back," you said quickly, snatching one of the styrofoam cups from the cardboard carrier. "Geoff, you literally saved my life."

"I wish I could say the same," he replied. His tone was alarmingly emotionless and cold. You looked up at Geoff with a frown, confused. When your eyes met his face, the travel cup slipped from your hand, spilling a large pool of the rich, brown liquid on the clean white tile. His once-clear skin was now bloody, blackened, and peeling in places. He was so severely charred that if you hadn't seen his body on the night he died, you weren't entirely sure you would have recognized him at all. You had to force down the bile that rose in the back of your throat. "Why didn't you save me, Y/N?" When you turned to Linda for support, you fell backward out of your chair as you scrambled to get away. Her appearance was also distorted, with pale skin, blue lips, and eyes that were fogged over.

"You could have saved us, Y/N," she said monotonously. You pushed yourself away from them as they continued to advance.

"Why didn't you save us?" The question was stuck on repeat as it reverberated throughout the room, getting louder each time. You pressed your palms against your ears frantically to block out the noise, but it was no use.

"Stop!" you screamed, trying to drown out their voices. Geoff reached out, catching you in a steel grip. "Let go of me!" You thrashed violently against him, trying to free your arms. "Stop!"

"Y/N, hey, hey, it's just me!" Your eyes flew open, darting around the unfamiliar settings in a blind panic.

"Let me go!" you yelled, still caught in your nightmare.

"Easy, easy!" Dean squeezed you tighter against his chest, forcing you to stop struggling. Your breaths came raggedly as you finally began to remember where you were and who you were with. "It's just me," Dean repeated. "You're fine, all right? You're okay. It was just a bad dream." You slumped against him as tears made their way down your cheeks. Dean released his hold on your arms and pulled you close to him, wrapping you in a hug. Had you been in a better state of mind, you probably would have pushed him away. Probably. You held onto him tightly, almost afraid he would slip away if you loosened your grip on him too much. Dean reciprocated your hold, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

"I'm right here, sweetheart," he reassured softly. "I'm right here." Your muscles began to relax again, and you took deep breaths to slow your racing heart. "It was the witch, wasn't it?" Dean asked after a moment, jolting you from your thoughts. When you gave a slow nod, he let out a breath, swearing to himself. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he whispered. "I never meant for you to get sucked back into all of this. I was trying to protect you." He smoothed back a stray, sweaty piece of hair from your face. "I feel like this is all my fault," Dean admitted. "Because I came back again."

"Dean," you started. "I'm alive because you came back again. That's not something you should feel guilty for." Glancing at his shoulder where your face had been, you let out an embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry I cried all over your shirt." Dean peered down at himself, looking unphased. The fabric on his shirt was so drenched, it was literally a different shade from the rest of it. Dean rolled his eyes.

"How come you always apologize for the things you can't help?" You let out another soft chuckle.

"Hey, leave me alone," you replied, playfully shoving his shoulder. "You know I've always done that."

"Yeah, I do know." The corners of his lips turned up into a smile as if he was caught in a fond memory. "That's one of my favorite things about you. Always has been." Your heart skipped a beat as a blush rose up into your cheeks. When you gave Dean a sidelong glance, you realized his face looked just as red as yours. Had he meant to say that? You cleared your throat.

"Did I, um, wake you?" Dean shook his head, seemingly relieved.

"Nah." You raised your eyebrows at him, glancing over at the clock.

"Dean, it's one in the morning."

"I know that!" he replied defensively. "I couldn't sleep." You rubbed his arm sympathetically. When Dean had first started living with you all those years ago, there had been lots of nights where you woke up, and he wasn't next to you.

"Are you still having trouble sleeping?" you asked gently. Dean let out a dry laugh.

"Always," he responded. Dean scratched the back of his neck, looking awkward. "But the, uh, couch isn't really all that comfortable." You looked over at the lumpy motel couch cushions, taking note of the pillows and blankets in odd formations. Dean had obviously been having a hard time trying to get comfortable. The wheels began to turn in your head. What you were about to suggest was a stupid idea and would definitely only lead to things being even more complicated. But still...

"We could always just share the bed," you suggested, trying to sound as nonchalant as you could manage. Dean's eyes flicked up to yours, surprised.

"I..." He licked his lips, and you could tell by his expression that he was choosing his words carefully. "I don't want you to feel like you have to-"

"Hey," you cut him off, your tone gentle. "I'm the one that offered, right? Besides, it doesn't really seem fair to me that I get a big bed all to myself while you have to wrestle with some nasty-ass couch cushions." Dean's cheeks flushed a light pink as he stood from the mattress, turning his back to you.

"I don't think it's a good idea," he said quietly. He took a step back in the direction of the couch, and on an impulse, you reached out and grabbed his hand. Oh God, this was it. If you went through with this, everything was going to change again. Your defense walls were going to come down, and if you let him back in, he could break your heart just as easily as he did the first time. Fuck.

"Stay." You said the word so quietly, you weren't sure if Dean heard you at first. But then he turned around, and you saw the look in his eyes. How his green orbs swam with emotion, holding conflict, pain, and uncertainty just beneath the surface. "Please." With how intently he was watching you, you were almost afraid he was going to say no. Only a few seconds must have passed, but it felt like an eternity before he finally gave a slow nod.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. I'll stay." You released his hand, and he came around to the other side of the mattress, lifting the blankets for himself. Once he was settled, he groaned, closing his eyes. "I didn't realize until just now how much I've missed an actual mattress. You giggled lightly.

"Sorry," you apologized. Dean shook his head.

"Nah, don't be. I knew where you were coming from." You watched him with careful eyes as he moved towards you and opened his arms. This was one of the things you had missed most about Dean. The two of you had always been able to communicate with just a simple gesture or facial expression. Almost as if you could read each other's minds. You scooted over to him, pressing yourself against his chest. And when he wrapped his toned arms around you, you knew you were done for all over again. It felt like nothing had changed. Every trace of him was familiar, and at that precise moment, everything felt right. Dean gave your cheek a gentle kiss before resting his chin on top of your head. "We start training again in the morning. Get some sleep, sweetheart." You closed your eyes, trying to keep your tone serious, although you couldn't hide the fact that you were smiling.

"Not your sweetheart," you muttered. Dean's chest rumbled slightly against you as he chuckled softly.

"Get some rest."

For the first time in a very long time, you woke up feeling completely rested. Not even the crappy motel bed could've deterred you from your good night's sleep. You made a move to roll over so you could get up but froze when you realized Dean's arms were still tangled around you. When you peeked back at him from over your shoulder, you couldn't suppress the smile that made its way onto your lips or the warm feeling that built up in your chest. Dean Winchester was still sound asleep, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Apparently, it had been a good night's rest for him too. And knowing Dean, that meant a lot.

Being careful not to wake him, you lifted his arm slightly to shimmy your way out of his grasp. Even when in a deep sleep, Dean was still somehow a light sleeper. You knew his mind never fully shut off. He never let it. He always had to be alert in case something happened. This was something you had learned for yourself. Years back, you had gotten up one night to get a glass of water. On your way to the kitchen sink, the glass had slipped from your fingers and shattered on the floor. You had barely even had the chance to crouch down and pick up the shards when Dean had come running down the hallway, gun drawn. You knew you would never forget the way he had scanned your apartment with such alert and calculating eyes.

"Dean?" you had asked, quickly standing up and grasping onto the countertop behind you for support. A look of such immense relief you had never seen on him before had come onto his face before he finally tucked the gun into the waistband of his lounge pants. At that point, you already knew about almost all elements of the supernatural, but for some reason, the fact that Dean had a gun on him at all times left you feeling rattled. But more than anything, you felt bad for the poor man. You couldn't imagine living your life having every waking moment be in fear and paranoia. Well, until the witch had come into your life, at least.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you took up an armful of clothes and headed into the bathroom, checking the time on the bedside table's clock as you did. 7:03. The fact that you had woken up so early without any sort of alarm also spoke volumes of just how well you had slept the night before. Usually, the only time you ever woke up this early was for a shift at the hospital. Your stomach instantly knotted up at the thought. The hospital. You picked up your phone, eyeing it warily before finally turning it on. It had been off since yesterday afternoon. You had been too scared to turn it back on. As you pulled a clean tank top on over your sports bra, the device vibrated against the bathroom countertop. Your stomach did a flip. This wasn't going to be fun. Just as you had been anticipating, there was a voicemail waiting for you. Steeling yourself, you held the phone up to your ear, listening intently.

"Y/N," a voice rang through. You swore. The only time your boss called your personal phone was when there was a serious matter at hand. "This is Mike. Listen, I hate to do this over a voicemail, but we've been trying to get a hold of you for the past couple of days. You're one of my best surgeons, but leaving someone to die is something I can't let slide. I'm sorry. We're gonna have to let you go." Your heart fell. "I'll be in touch if you have any questions." The line gave a soft click as the recording came to an end.

"Fuck," you whispered as you held back frustrated tears. You knew it had been coming, but that definitely didn't make it any easier. After everything you had gone through to get that job, you were suddenly just fired. It didn't seem real. Exiting the bathroom, you turned your phone off again, deciding no good could come from it being on anymore. You were restless. You had had every intention of waiting around the room until Dean woke up, but after that voicemail, sitting still sounded unbearable. Opening the motel door, you walked out into the bright morning sunlight. If anything, you really just needed some air.

"Y/N?" You looked over in surprise, leaning up against the door.

"Sam," you replied, shooting him a weak smile. "What are you doing up so early?" Sam chuckled.

"This is actually late for me," he admitted. "I was supposed to be up an hour ago, but I guess I needed the extra sleep."

"Where are you headed?" He pointed over his shoulder to the motel's parking lot. "I was just getting ready to go for a jog." Sam gave you a once over, and understanding graced his features. "You want to tag along? You look like you could blow off some steam." Letting out a dry laugh, you shook your head.

"You have no idea. Let me just leave a note for Dean, so he doesn't freak out when he wakes up, and I'm gone." You heard Sam chuckle as you reached for the doorknob.

"Yeah, I heard you went out on a little adventure the other night." You cringed as you sucked in a breath through your teeth. 

"Probably not my best idea," you confessed. Sam let out another laugh as you headed back into the motel room, still being careful to not wake Dean. You were grateful Sam had invited you to come along. Typically, you detested running, but today it was a perfect excuse to get out of the room and get your mind off of the fact that you were now unemployed. Not that you were sure it really mattered anymore anyway. You scribbled out a short note to Dean and placed it on your pillow before leaving the room again.

"Ready?" Sam asked as you shut the door behind you.

"Yup," you answered, popping the 'p.' He bobbed his head in the direction of the road.

"Let's get going, then." Sam broke into a pace that you were easily able to match, despite the fact that you couldn't remember the last time you had gone for a run.

"Thanks for letting me come with you," you said between breaths.

"Sure, Y/N." The two of you were silent for another moment before he struck up the conversation again. "Is everything okay? You looked pretty flustered coming out of the room." He paused, looking a little awkward. "Did Dean do something?" You let out a bark of laughter.

"No," you replied. "Your stupid brother didn't do anything." When Sam shot you a curious glance, you sighed. "Work drama," you explained. Thankfully, Sam seemed to pick up on your vibe of not wanting to talk about it.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said sympathetically. You replied with a shrug.

"It is what it is," you responded, trying to seem indifferent. "But, thanks." It was ironic, really. Indifferent was the last thing you were.

By the time you and Sam got back to the motel, it was a little after eight.

"Hey," Dean greeted when you entered the room. Your heart gave a little flutter at the sight of him. He was sipping coffee on the bed, hair slightly mussed. It wasn't hard to tell he had just woken up.

"Morning, sleepyhead," you teased. He gave a grunt in response.

"How was your run?" Dean asked, passing a hand over his eyes.

"Good." He bobbed his head towards your phone, which was sitting on the table where you had left it.

"You didn't take your phone with you," he pointed out. You scowled at the device.

"Didn't want to," you replied curtly. Dean peered at you over the rim of his coffee mug.

"Why's that?" Your chest suddenly became tight. You didn't want to talk about it, honestly. Talking about it made it real. Maybe if you avoided it enough, it would eventually go away. You turned your back to Dean, resting your weight against the round, wooden table.

"I had a voicemail from my boss." You had to swallow the lump in your throat. "He, ah... He fired me."

"C'mere." You turned around, looking at Dean. His mug of coffee sat on the bedside table, and he was patting the mattress next to him. He watched with serious eyes as you obeyed, sinking down into the spot where he wanted you. Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and the small gesture of comfort immediately had tears pricking at your eyes. "You okay?" he asked softly. You paused. Were you okay? A week ago, you were still living a normal life, saving lives, making a healthy paycheck. Now, you were unemployed, on the run, and fearing for your life. Honestly, you felt a little stupid for getting so upset over something as trivial as a job when lives were at stake. But still. You shook your head, embarrassed, looking down at your lap where your hands were clasped tightly.

"No," you whispered.

"Hey," Dean said quietly. He pulled you closer to him and placed a kiss on the side of your head, rubbing circles into your arm with his thumb. You leaned forward and held your head in your hands.

"I worked so fucking hard for that job," you said through clenched teeth. "I waitressed at that shitty diner for years to get through med school, and I-" You let out a breath. "It was all for nothing."

"Come here," he said again. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you buried your face in Dean's shoulder, honestly hoping the rest of the world would just go away. He held you tightly against him in complete silence. After a moment, you took in a shaky breath.

"I'm-"

"Don't apologize," Dean chastised gently, rubbing your back soothingly. You couldn't help but chuckle at the way he knew what you were going to say even before you said it. He knew you just as well as you did him. After a few more silent moments, Dean kissed the side of your head again and pulled away. "Come on," he said, giving your knee a pat. You frowned.

"Where are we going?" you asked. Dean picked up the Impala's keys from the table with a cheeky smile.

"We are getting breakfast."

"I thought you said we were gonna start training again this morning." He shook his head.

"Training later. Pancakes, bacon, and coffee now."

"But-" Dean held up a hand.

"Nah-ah!" You rolled your eyes at him playfully. Apparently, he wasn't taking no for an answer today. "You. Car. Now. I'll go get Sam." You laughed, your mood already improving. As Dean turned to head out of the motel room, he paused at the door. "And Y/N?" You looked up at him. "It's gonna be-" You nodded with a soft smile.

"I know. Thanks." Dean reciprocated your smile, heading over to Sam's room. As soon as the door closed behind him, your shoulders slumped slightly. Honestly, you weren't sure how much pancakes and bacon could do for you right now. You appreciated Dean's attempt to make you feel better, but what were you going to do when all this was over? Your heart sank into your stomach. Was Dean even going to stay after all was said and done? For all you knew, he was going to leave you in the dust again. The motel door opening pulled you from your thoughts. Dean pointed at you.

"You're supposed to be in the car," he stated. You laughed, standing from the mattress.

"I'm going, I'm going."

Thank you for reading, you guys! ;)

As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox (requests are open!) are in my bio!

Chapter 8 - She Knows

Taglist: 

@formulafun @greenarrowhead @cole-winchester @alexwinchester23 @1-am-made-of-stardust @thorukindig @fiftyshadesoffandom6783 @youshrimpdickfucknugget

#supernatural #supernatural fandom #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #Only You #chapter seven #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Reader #Female Reader #Original Female Character #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x Female Reader #Dean Winchester x Orignal Female Character #Shameless Flirting #Cute #protective!Dean #sweet!Dean #fluff #flashbacks #nightmares

[theghostofashton]

survival will not be the hardest part

hi. i know y’all are very anxious to read this. i know how long i’ve kept you waiting, but i’d really appreciate if you’d read this lil thing first.

so, this story, known more commonly as ‘the cancer fic’ is an idea my friend rachel gave me back in april. she’s pretty known on twitter, but not on tumblr, so for those of you who aren’t aware: rachel’s spent a really long time in the hospital over the years. she’s been having a hard time lately, and i...it breaks my heart. i wanted to do something for her.

this is that something.

in this story, rachel is awsten (she doesn’t have cancer. let’s be clear about that. aside from the medical conditions, she is awsten). there are seven main OCs. every single one of them is an actual human being. their names are the same. conditions are not. the main point of this story was the kids, to focus on the struggle rachel’s faced alongside being the person awsten is in the story, to the kids. 

a while ago, rachel came to me pissed about something she saw online, of people making hospitals out to be these “pretty” and “aesthetic” places, essentially glamorizing them. that made me want to do this even more. this is her life. this is what she deals with on a daily basis.  this is the reality of being in the hospital. it’s not pretty or glamorous or idealistic. this is real. it’s raw and real and painful because i wanted to highlight that. 

when i started writing this, i knew it wouldn’t be received the same as my other stuff. this is very OC heavy. it’s very personal. this is the longest and hardest and heaviest thing i have ever done. it’s so personal to me and to rachel and i would really appreciate yall keeping that in mind while you read.

trigger warnings for suicide and depression, also a ton of medical stuff including vomiting...this is a hospital fic, after all.

and finally, this is dedicated to lily. fly high, love. thank you for looking down on us. rest in peace.

September 3rd, 2017 – 10:53 AM

"Aws, we need your help."

He pulls out his other earbud and lifts his head, places a hand over the page in his journal as he looks over to the doorway. He doesn't wait for something else to be said, flips the book closed and loops the band around, pulls out his remaining earbud and wraps the cord around his phone.

"Who is it?" He falls into place beside Geoff as they walk down the hallway. An arm snakes its way around his waist and squeezes his torso. He moves a hand to Geoff's back, closes his eyes and breathes in. "What happened?"

"Nia doesn't wanna take her meds. And she needs a Vitamin B shot too," Geoff says. His voice is low. He runs his other hand through his hair with a sigh. "She's crying. It's bad."

"Fuck," he swears. He picks up the pace, so fast he almost breaks out into a run by the time they reach the end of the hallway. He breaks out of Geoff's hold and jogs past the nurses' desk and a bunch of hospital carts, ignores the multiple cries of 'Awsten, don't run!'. He needs to get there. He needs to be there. He forgot this was happening today he completely forgot fuckfuckfuck-

And when he does, he doesn't stop. He runs through the double doors, into the pediatric ward, and veers off to the left. "Nia..." He breathes. He stops at the foot of her bed, places a hand on the railing and moves to stand next to her head. "I'm so sorry I forgot, sweetheart. I'm here now."

"Awsie!" Nia cries. She stretches her arms out for him. Tears are drying on her cheeks and her lip is quivering. "Don't want it Awsie, don't want it."

He swallows. It feels like his heart is attached to strings and the puppet master is tugging, harder and harder, about to rip the muscle from its suspension in his chest. He takes one of Nia's hands and climbs into the bed next to her, pulls her into his chest and squeezes tightly, presses a kiss to the top of her head. When he looks up, it's straight into Geoff's eyes. He's tapping the end of the syringe with his nail, lip pulled between his teeth, sympathetic smile on his face.

"Tell me when she's ready," Geoff says softly. He nods and looks back down at Nia. Her head is completely hidden from view. Her arms are squeezing around his waist. He can feel the damp spot on his shirt.

He sighs. "Nia, love, hey, don't cry... It's gonna be okay, I promise." He tangles his fingers into her hair and pulls them through, tilts his head down and places another kiss against her scalp.

"Don't like it..." Nia whines. He exhales heavily and tightens his arm around her back.

She doesn't deserve this. She's so young. She should be worried about not having enough time play on the swings and whether the mean boy in her class will steal her toys again, not on the verge of a panic attack over a fluid-filled syringe that comes with its own cocktail of side effects. This is a mountain and it's too big for her tiny shoulders to carry.

"It's gonna make you feel better. Don't you wanna feel better?" Her sobs are starting to quiet. He keeps rubbing her back, pressing the circles in, firm and soft and tight against the warmth of her skin.

"And Nia, hey," Geoff says. "Awsten can stay with you after, if you take it."

He lifts his head to meet Geoff's eyes and sends him a smile. Geoff nods a bit and smiles back, motions to the door and mouths, 'I'll get them to let you. You can't leave her right now. She needs you'.

'Thank you. I love you,' he mouths back.

'I love you too'.

"You'll really stay?" Nia looks up at him, quivering lip and teary eyes. She's blinking rapidly against the sheen.

He leans forward and kisses her forehead. "Of course I will, love. But you gotta take your meds, okay?"

She gives a sigh that is much too long for a seven year old, before eventually nodding and sticking her arm in Geoff's direction. He pulls her head back down into his chest as Geoff cleans an area on her bicep, feels her grip around his waist get tighter and tighter.

And then the needle goes in and she squeezes him so hard he starts to see spots, but they go as quickly as they come. Geoff presses down on the tube to insert the medicine in, and ever so slowly, Nia's grip starts to loosen. She doesn't look back up until Geoff is pressing gauze against her skin and moving his hand to her shoulder.

"Which one this time?" Geoff shows her a handful of band-aids, all various colors with character designs and tiny patterns decorating the tops. Awsten smiles as she settles back against his chest and points to one on the end that displays a smiling princess from some movie he barely recognize. He remembers seeing her on the screen a few weeks ago in the playroom, feeling Nia tap his shoulder excitedly and squeal over how beautiful she looked when she came on the screen. And then black overtook his vision and he didn't wake until the credits were rolling and Nia was snoring in his arms, making little snuffles every couple seconds.

Geoff grins and affixes it to her skin. Nia takes her arm back and turns over fully, moves her head to his shoulder and breathes out warmly into his neck. He moves his arm up to wrap around her and pulls his fingers through her hair again.

"What song?"

"The Pink one!"

He smiles. "Alright love, close your eyes..."

...

September 3rd, 2017 – 12:22 PM

"Aws?"

"Sunshine, hey, wake up."

He blinks rapidly. His head feels heavy, like it's stuffed with cotton and full of rocks that make it so impossibly hard to lift. "Huh?"

"You fell asleep." A pair of lips brushes his cheek. He hums, keeps his eyes squinted and snakes an arm around Geoff's neck. "Let's go back to your room, 'kay?"

"Mmph...carry me..." Everything feels so weighted. He's warm and the position he's in is comfortable. He doesn't want to move and turn cold again.

"Sorry love." He can hear the smile in Geoff's voice. "I'm carrying something I think you'll like a lot more."

"Hm?"

Geoff holds up a large bag. He waves it around for a few seconds, just enough time for Awsten to detect the beginnings of a green logo...

Could it be-

"Holy shit, did you get me Whole Foods?" He tries to keep his voice level as not to wake Nia.

"Maybe." Geoff smirks at him. He reaches out for the bag but Geoff hefts it higher than he can stretch, swings it back and forth while keeping it up in the air. "Back to your room love, then we can eat."

He follows Geoff out of the pediatric ward and down multiple hallways. Geoff uses his shoulder to push open one of the doors to the adult ward, holds it open for him and then walks behind him until they finally reach his room.

"I don't think I've ever loved you more." He says the words through a mouthful of food, five minutes later. He smiles, as Geoff reaches out to wipe at the side of his mouth with a finger. Geoff licks his finger and he rolls his eyes, leans in for a kiss that ends up being a quick peck. He takes another bite and closes his eyes. "Oh my god..."

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Geoff asks. "Since you've had outside food?"

"Oh hell yeah," he mutters. "The crap they have here is so disgusting, jesus christ..."

He's been back in the hospital for almost a month now. They let him out a couple months ago, let him go home and go back to school and try to become a normal seventeen year old, one whose home isn't a hospital ward and whose reality isn't the rarity of his disease.

And then it happened and now he's back here. It feels like he never left. He knows more of the white walls and antiseptic smell and nurses coming in ever few hours to check his blood pressure and change his IV fluid, of constantly being asked if he's okay, the pokes and prods and needles shoved in his skin, the cannula they forced into his arm and chemotherapy treatments that inject so much chemical into his bloodstream that everything in his body is rushing to get out, like it's the relative no one wants to see at a family gathering and everyone is doing their best to get away.

There's a point, when you live in a hospital, where everything starts to blur together. It all mashes into one, one large ball of prods and pokes and people everywhere, grabbing and pushing and turn over here, no not like that, I need to take some blood, come on Awsten, jut cooperate, okay? Why do you always have to be so difficult?

Some days it doesn't feel like anything anymore. He exists on a separate plane from everyone else, watching his physical form stare at the wall limply. Nurses come and go, lift his arms and shove things into his skin, wrap blood pressure cuffs around his biceps and change his IV fluid, and all he can do is lay there, force his eyes open and try not to retreat back into himself.

You're never alone in a hospital.

"Aws?" He shakes his head and blinks rapidly, lets his eyes come back into focus. Geoff's smile is gone. He's leaning toward him, brow furrowed, sandwich abandoned in its container. "You okay?"

He forces the corners of his lips upward. "Yeah."

"You can't lie to me, sunshine."

"I'm fine," he insists. He puts his own sandwich down and tilts his head to brush his lips against Geoff's. "I love you. Thank you for this."

Geoff uses one arm to shove the food boxes off to the side and scoots forward in the same motion. Awsten jumps, as he takes him into his arms and presses a long kiss against the top of his shoulder. "I love you so much. Please don't shut me out, okay? I want to help you. I'm here to help you."

"You are," he murmurs. "Trust me, you are."

...

September 5th, 2017 – 9:46 AM

"What's this for?"

"I'm not too sure, sunshine." He tightens the wrap around Awsten's bicep and walks his hand down his arm. When he gets to his elbow, he digs his fingers into Awsten's skin, feels around for the vein that should hurt him the least. The most prominent veins are the easiest to stick. "They didn't tell me that."

There are so many needle scars on his arm already. He's spent his entire life being poked and prodded like a science experiment, so much so that he doesn't even have to turn away now. Geoff remembers those days, years before he started training to become a nurse, when he would sit in the chair and hold Awsten on his lap and try to distract him to keep his gaze away from his arm.

It's a pang, a sort of sting that embeds itself into his chest and stabs at his heart. He swallows.

He's wanted to be a nurse for most of his life. Awsten being sick only fueled it. He remembers growing up, spending all his teen years in the hospital by Awsten's side, holding his hand during the chemo treatments and promising through tears that everything would be alright for surgery after surgery.

He's lived this alongside Awsten, but Awsten's been the one going through it all, dealing with the tests and surgeries and chemotherapy treatments, he's the one who was forced to give up a childhood and a normal life to be stuck with white walls and sterilized tubes and overwhelming antiseptic, he's the one whose life will never be any semblance of ordinary. This is his life. He had to give everything up.

He had to give everything up.

There's a lump in his throat. His vision is starting to blur. His eyes are getting misty.

He's wanted to be a nurse for most of his life.

This is one patient he never thought he'd have to treat.

This is one patient he never thought he'd have to treat.

"How much do you need this time?" Awsten's voice isn't high. He doesn't sound shaky or scared. His tone is level. He's not meeting his gaze. His eyes are on his lap, where he's picking at a loose thread on his sweatpants with his other hand.

Geoff shakes his head to clear it. The ache behind his eyes is a balloon that's about to pop. It's pressing against his skull, full of tears, about to rip and tear and spill. It's about to spill. Everything's about to spill. "Not much." He forces his voice to stay steady as he presses the needle into Awsten's skin.

Awsten doesn't even flinch.

He watches the needle go in and keeps his eyes there until Geoff pulls it out and presses gauze against the wound. Geoff drags in a breath, hiccups and tries not to let a sob slip with it.

But sure enough, "Gee? You okay?"

He swallows again. The lump in his throat throbs. His head aches as he lifts it. He looks at Awsten, at his wide eyes and skinny frame, at the thin hair that's just barely started to grow back and look how it used to before the chemicals ripped it all out. He looks down at the gauze he's still holding to Awsten's arm and then at the two tubes of his blood now placed in the sterilized box.

"Yeah, love. I'm fine."

...

"Awsie!"

"Why's Nurse W here?"

"What's the guitar for?"

He exchanges a look with Geoff and smiles, surveys the room and lets his gaze stop on Lily, whose eyes are fixated on him. "Geoff was telling me about a certain someone – or someones – being naughty?" He glances over at Geoff. "Right?"

Geoff's eyes are wide when he answers, "They just don't wanna eat their lunches, Aws. I didn't know what else to do."

"That's not fair!"

"I don't like it."

"It's gross..."

He nods. "I know, guys. The food sucks." He shouldn't even be preaching right now, shouldn't be telling them to eat what's on their plates, because more often than not he throws his own plates out and makes Jawn bring him Whole Foods. "But the nurses get all annoying and yell-y about it 'cause you're all on meds, okay? If you don't eat you'll get sick."

"He's right," Geoff says from behind. "But I'm glad you think I'm annoying, babe. Nice to know."

Jacob starts to 'oooooh' and Nia and Matty quickly follow. They're grinning widely at them, wide eyes and red cheeks paired with large smiles.

He rolls his eyes and leans back to peck Geoff's check. "Oh shut up. You know what I meant."

"Do I?"

"Yeah." His cheeks are growing hot. He drops his head and leans in to whisper into Geoff's ear, "and you are distracting them."

"Well," Geoff murmurs, breath warm against his ear. "You're distracting me." He closes his eyes as their lips slide together, feels Geoff's arm move down to his waist. Just as he reaches up to wrap his own arm around Geoff's neck, Geoff breaks the kiss and takes a step back.

"Uh..." Everything is so hot. His fingers are brushing Geoff's shoulder. He stretches his hand out more, grips onto him and takes a step back so they're standing next to each other. His lips are still tingling.

"But anyway, as Awsten was saying," Geoff continues. "You guys finish your lunches, and he's gonna sing you a song." He glances over. "Right, Aws?"

"R-right," he says faintly.

...

"Alright, what song are we doing?"

"You should sing one of yours," Geoff says. He unzips the guitar case and kneels in front of it to pull the instrument out. "Maybe not something...too sad, if you can? They've cried enough today."

He rolls his eyes and starts to flip through his journal. It may as well be called a songbook by now. At first it was messy feelings, but now they all come out in pretty metaphors that are inadvertently lyrical. "I live in a hospital, the fuck did you expect?"

"You gotta have something happy," Geoff insists. "It's not all white walls and hospital floors, is it?"

"And antiseptic smell," he mutters with a grin. "But no, yeah, I got something."

"You gonna give me the chords, or?"

"It's that one," he says. He forces himself to smile and reaches for one of Geoff's hands briefly. "The one I came up with that right? You helped me write some of it?"

"Aws..."

He swallows and looks down at the floor. "You got it?"

"Yeah."

"Awsie!"

"What song are you playing?"

"Do the pink one!"

"I like the silver one!"

"Does it have to be a color one?"

He takes a breath and keeps the smile plastered on his face, steps back to stand next to the stool Geoff's sitting on and leans his hip against it. He has to inhale again, looking out to all of their smiling faces. Nia's talking excitedly to Lily, nudging her shoulder and whispering loudly in her ear. Lily is smiling and nodding, but her gaze is focused on him. Jacob is pressed against Toby's side, saying something to him, to which Toby smiles and brushes a hand through his hair. Georgia has Rosie on her lap, and she's smiling and nodding as the two year old grabs a lock of her hair and starts to babble nonsense. He has to smile at Matty, who's trying very hard to have a silent conversation with Geoff, making an obvious effort to mouth words. You can do this. Breathe. You can do this. They're probably not gonna get it anyway.

Georgia and Toby will.

But the others won't.

They're counting on you.

You can do this.

"This is a new one," he says, tries to keep his voice level. "I wrote it a few months ago, with Geoff, actually. It's the first time I've sung it since, so...yeah, I guess. This is, I'll Always Be Around."

...

September 8th, 2017 – 3:37 PM

"Awsten? Kiddo, hey, can you come here a sec?"

Geoff stops.

It feels like the words jump-started his heart, shocked it backs into continuation of the never-ending marathon it's been running. The world stops for a second, pauses where it is and tilts slightly, goes fuzzy at the ends and allows the black to creep in.

Awsten's head doctor usually leaves everything up to the rest of his team. He doesn't join in unless things are particularly bad, unless he has a piece of news to give that is anything but standard. He isn't called in unless it's big, unless whatever's going on requires a more drastic treatment or everything needs to be changed. Calling Awsten to his office...

The blood test.

The results.

The results are in.

"I promised Georgia..." Awsten trails off. His words start to get softer by the end. He knows. He's been in here long enough to know what this means. He knows what this means. He knows exactly what this is. He knows. Geoff's heart is racing. It's hotcoldhotcoldhotcold fuckfuckfuck- "Y-Yeah. What's up?"

Geoff wrenches his head up to meet the man's eyes. They exchange a glance. He needs to be in the room Awsten can't be doing this alone he needs to be with him he needs to be with him he needs to be in that room with him- and fortunately, he receives a nod and a small hand gesture. He sets his binder on the nurses' station, ignores her calling after him irritably ­who's chart is this, Geoff? You can't just leave it wherever you want and expect us to...

He jogs to catch up and falls into place beside Awsten, reaches for his hand and squeezes tightly. It's already clammy, slick with sweat. Awsten is shaking. He swallows. Nonononopleasenonononono-

They sit down in the office. He keeps a tight hold on Awsten's hand and tries to take some deep breaths for himself. You are not allowed to panic right now. You cannot panic. Awsten needs you more than you need to panic. Awsten needs you more than you need to panic.

Awsten needs you more than you need to panic.

"What's going on?" Awsten's voice is so shaky. He tries to push his chair closer, gives his hand another tight squeeze. Awsten doesn't even acknowledge it. His gaze stays fixated on the doctor.

The man sighs. "We've been running tests for a couple weeks now, kid. That's what taking bone marrow and doing scans and drawing blood all those times was for. We wanted to make sure we were completely right before saying anything."

"W-What do you mean?"

Geoff swallows. His breath catches in his throat and he clenches his teeth in attempt not to cough. Please no please it can't be that please don't let it be that please he can't deal with this he doesn't need this please don't let it be that pleasepleaseplease-

"When we got your bone marrow sample back," he says. "We found some abnormalities in your white blood cells. That didn't necessarily mean – we had to do a lot more tests and imaging before we were able to confirm anything."

"Just say it." Awsten's voice is so soft. "Please. I need you to say it."

"Awsten-"

"Just tell me!"

"We did so many tests, did the same ones over again, tried to explain this any other way we possibly could...but everything came back the same. The results all point to one thing." He takes a heavy breath and shakes his head.

"Your cancer's back. I'm so sorry, kiddo."

There's a moment. Everything stops. The world is still. Someone hit the pause button.

And then it plays.

And Awsten runs.

...

"Aws- Awsten, hey, stop."

"Let go of me, Geoff!"

He struggles against Geoff's grip, pushes at his arms and fights against the tightening around his abdomen. "I mean it, let me go!"

"No." Geoff's voice is right next to his ear. He feels his breath warming his skin, feels the arms move up to his chest and wrap around him even tighter. "Just breathe, sunshine. I promise it'll be okay."

"No it won't!" The words end in a sob. He shoves at Geoff's chest again, keeps pushing and resisting. Gotta get out gotta go I can't be here it'sbackit'sbackit'sback-

I can't be here I can't do this let me go please let me go I need to be alone I can't do this anymore I don't want it why is this my life why does this keep happening why is it happening to me I don't want this anymore pleasepleaseplease- it'sbackit'sbackit'sback-

It's back.

The scream starts low, at the back of his throat. It feels like his vocal chords are tearing as it comes up. Everything hurts. His chest is open and the poison is flooding in and everything is burning the world is on fire he can't see can't move can't breathe what's going on why won't it stop it'sbackit'sbackit'sback-

"C'mon love," Geoff is saying. "Deep breaths. With me, okay? I'm right here. It's all gonna be okay, I promise."

"D-Don't," he gasps it out and then drops his head. Everything is blurry. He's squinting at the ground. His vision is squid-inked, black spots dancing and moving all around, combining together to obstruct everything. Can't see can't see can't see– it'sbackit'sbackit'sback-

Everything is on fire. The world is white-hot. It's burning it's all burning it's hot everything's hot it's moving it's hot it's too hot it won't stop nothing will stop why won't it stop it won't stop-

He can't see. He needs more air.

There's no more air.

He needs more air there's no more air he needs more air there's no more air he needs more air there's no more air he needs more air-

It's back it's here it's happening all over again I don't want it please nonono take it away I can't do this take it away I don't want it please I'm sorry please I don't want it I don't want it I don't want it-

There's pressure against his arms. The hands clasp his biceps and push him back. He feels the hard surface digging into his spine. His stomach is churning. Everything is spinning. Can't see can't move can't breathe redwhitehotredwhitehotredwhitehot-

"...breathe, Awsten..."

"...sunshine..."

"...doing...well..."

He hears bits and pieces. They all sound far away, like Geoff's voice is being transmitted through a vocoder from another room. It's distant. Everything's distant. He's floating. The world is getting smaller and smaller. He's going higher; ascending into a separate plane of existence where his body is not a battlefield the latest fight just broke out on.

The next breath barely feels like one. It fuels the burn in his chest, the smoldering of his lungs and hiss of everything charring to a crisp and floating down to dig into his chest cavity. It hurts. Everything hurts. It won't stop. It hurts.

It's back it's back it's back it's back it's back it's back it's back it'sbackit'sbackit'sback-

It's back.

...

September 8th, 2017 – 8:32 PM

"It's gonna be okay, sunshine."

He tousles his fingers through Awsten's hair and kisses the back of his head. Awsten sniffles, scoots up slightly and then lets his head flop back. "S-Sorry, I just..."

"Don't start," he mutters.

Awsten does this all the time. When they're alone, in private, it's like he turns into an infinite thank you note, exploding with 'I'm sorrys' and 'thanks for putting up with mes', overflowing and letting them pour out of him like he's a cup that needs to be emptied periodically. "You have nothing to be sorry for, love-"

"Geoff, thank god, there you are." He jumps, hears the door banging open and one of the on-duty night nurses call for him. "I know you're off today, but Jacob's crying and we're short on staff 'cause of the storm, can you help?"

"I-" He starts to say. Movement cuts him off. Awsten pushes out of his hold and slides to the floor, wipes a hand down his face and makes his way out of the room without a word.

He takes a breath and climbs off the bed too, exchanges a glance with the nurse as he makes his way out of the room and picks up into a slight jog in the direction of the pediatric ward. Awsten's long gone from the halls. He moves through quickly, comes to a stop in front of the double doors and pushes through, straight over to Jacob's bed.

"...thunder, okay? Wanna tell me why?" Awsten is curled up on the mattress next to Jacob. He's lying on his side with Jacob's head against his chest and his arm wrapped around Jacob's shoulders.

"I-It's just noise." Jacob's voice is barely audible, especially from Geoff's position at the foot of the bed. Awsten is louder, but not by much. Neither of them notices – or if they have, they aren't paying any attention to – his presence. He tugs his stethoscope to sit properly around his neck and takes a tiny step backward. "J-Just noise..."

Outside, the sky rumbles with another loud crack. The lights flicker briefly. They're gone for less than a second, but it's still enough to make Jacob jump and whimper, turn onto his side and tighten his arms around Awsten's waist.

"It's gonna be okay, love," Awsten murmurs. He presses a kiss against the crown of Jacob's head and hugs him closer. "It's just noise. It'll pass like it always does. You'll go to sleep and have nice, happy dreams, and when you wake up it'll be all gone, I promise."

"I'm scared..."

Geoff swallows. The words feel like a stab to his heart, a Jacob-sized missile that's large enough to burn a hole through the muscle. It starts a fire that stokes and sparks and burns, an ache in his chest that spreads quickly, smolders everything in its path and turns the entire cavity to flame.

"You wanna know what I do when I get scared?" Awsten hums.

"What?"

"I do something to get my mind off it." Awsten removes one arm from his body and stretches to the other side of the bed, pulls a book from the stack on top of Jacob's nightstand. "When I stop thinking so much about what's scaring me, it gets easier."

"R-Really?"

"Really." Geoff inhales, stares at the large smile on Awsten's face; he's grinning with his teeth, crinkling at the corners of his eyes and stretching so wide his cheeks look like they hurt. "Now where were we?"

"Harry's just about ta be sorted!"

"Oh!" Awsten's eyes go wide. "That's a really good part! What house do you think he'll be put in?"

"Slytherin!"

"What? Why?"

Jacob is giggling by now. The tears on his face are starting to dry up. His cheeks are pink and his smile is bright. He was sobbing ten minutes ago, and now he can't stop smiling.

Just noise.

...

September 12th, 2017 – 2:26 PM

They have a name for these days.

Amongst the nurses, they're called 'sudden death'.

The days when someone's kid is sick and someone else went on vacation and forgot to alert everyone else, when circumstances have piled in and formed a bullet that shoots the entire hospital in its foot. They have too many patients and not enough staff and that means they have to overcompensate and a job meant for six nurses has to now be done by three.

Having practically grown up in this hospital, he's been around for more than he can count.

You can tell by a nurse's tone of voice, the manner in which they handle things, their pace; the tells of 'sudden death' are hardly difficult to spot. People are grumpy and annoyed when they're stressed. It takes a special kind of person to shove that all back in and lock it far enough that it doesn't come oozing and seeping out into their personality.

And sure, Geoff is a really special person, but he's not that special.

The kids have all needed something today. Everyone's been fussy and grumpy and tired; they're spiking fevers and running around all over the place, tired of being cooped up inside but too unwell to be taken out for a walk. The cabin fever is setting in with Geoff's resolve headed closer and closer to the bin.

He can see it on Geoff's face. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lip is pulled between his teeth as he scribbles something into a chart. His hair is a mess, his scrubs are stained with something – some kid probably threw up on him and he hasn't had time to change – and his eyes are red.

He wants to say something, wants to slip behind him and wrap his arms around his waist, wants to breathe you're doing great, love. I know you're stressed and everything's a lot, but you're handling it really well against his ear, but he knows it wouldn't help. He knows Geoff has a lot of work to do, and distracting him – even if it is to try and help him relax a little – will only stress him out even more.

The news has felt like a hurricane. A natural disaster that's eclipsed their worlds and turned them on the side. It feels like that. The world's been turned 90 degrees, flipped onto its side, but everything hasn't moved with it. The world has changed but everything else hasn't and the limbo is lingering.

It's too much. It's all too much.

"Nurse W?"

"Nurse W..."

"Nurse W!"

Geoff jumps. The binder wobbles on the tray he was leaning on, and crashes to the ground. He blows out a heavy sigh and leans down to pick it up. "Give me a second, Matthew."

Awsten winces. He looks over at Matty, barely catches a glimpse of his wide eyes and quivering lip, before tiny footsteps pound against the tile floor and the four-year-old runs out of the room.

He sighs.

Matty's had a rough day. He spiked a fever overnight, so the nurses have been all over him, checking his vitals every hour to make sure he hasn't caught an infection. He's been bound to his bed in case there actually is something wrong, which doesn't bode well for a hyperactive four year old that loves to run around and play. He doesn't do well without his daily playroom time.

"Aws, fuck, I didn't mean to, could you..." Geoff trails off. He shakes his head and looks down at the chart in his hands.

"I got him," he replies. He knows exactly where Matty'll be. His favorite place in the hospital is that damn playroom. It's not much compared to a child's playroom at home, but the hospital has manage to accumulate a ton of board games, along with a foosball table, a pool table, and multiple video game systems. The room is massive, with tons of windows and brightly colored walls. And the kids spend every minute they can spare inside; a reminder of the future to tide them over. "Hey love, everything's okay. Geoff's just grumpy today. He has a lot of work to do because some of the other nurses didn't come in."

"He's mad at me," comes the tiny voice. He follows it to the edge of the foosball table, kneels down and presses his ear to the ground, sees Matty curled up underneath. "I made him mad."

Awsten sighs. His heart feels like it's being pulled, like Matty's piece is trying to break away from the others and descend into the bottom of his stomach. It's this ache that funnels out from deep in his chest, awakens every time one of the kids is upset and coats everything with a light layer of pain. "I promise he's not, Mats. He knows you've had a hard day and you didn't mean to bother him."

"I hate staying in bed."

He smiles. "I know you do, kid. The doctors were just worried today, hm." He scoots closer to the edge of the table and stretches a hand out. "When you guys randomly get fevers in the middle of the night, it means something bad could be happening. They just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"But Awsie, I feel fine," Matty insists. "I don't feel sick 'nymore."

"That's great, dude!" He exclaims. He drops his voice down for the next few words, "how about we go on a little adventure to celebrate, hm?"

"An adventure?" Matty's eyes seem to light up. He pushes up on his hands and stretches to connect his back with the bottom of the table. "Cool!"

"For sure, kiddo," Awsten replies. "Come on out, let's go do something cool!"

Getting Matty to sit in a wheelchair is a bit more of a struggle. He insists he's fine, pushes at Awsten's hands and whines when he rolls the chair up behind him, I don't wanna sit in thaaaat, why can't I just walk like a normal person? It takes a good five minutes to convince him, it's a special kind of adventure, okay? It'll be so much cooler in the chair, I promise.

But soon enough, they're off. He grips the handlebars tightly, gives the chair a hard push, and starts to sprint after it. Matty's giggles can be heard all the way down the hall. He catches up to the chair and grabs the handlebars again, keeps his stride and runs straight ahead, into the elevator that's just opened.

"Press a button," he instructs Matty, once the doors have closed.

"Which one?"

"Any one you want."

The elevator surges upward. The doors open with a ding.

He's not even sure what floor this is.

He grips the handlebars and shoves the wheelchair forward.

And then he's running all over again.

...

September 14th, 2017 – 5:48 PM

Something shoves at his shoulder.

It's gone before he has a chance to see what it is. He stops, clutches his clipboard against his chest and turns around.

Awsten's footsteps are loud, smacking against the tile floor. He has his head down and his arms drawn into his body. He speedwalks past Geoff and disappears down the hall, turns a corner out of view and vanishes completely.

"Dammit..." He looks up, makes eye contact with Awsten's head doctor, and grits his teeth.

"What the hell happened?" He mutters. He drops his clipboard off at the nurses' station, Parker, room 302, he's all set for the night, and walks right up to where the other man is standing. "What did you say to him?"

"Geoff," the man sighs. "We just scheduled his chemo treatments. He's starting tomorrow."

"He's...what?"

Everything goes cold. He feels the ice, feels it travel up his veins and seep into his bones like he was just dunked in a vat of frigid liquid.

"Yeah," Awsten's doctor replies. "First thing tomorrow, we've got a chair all ready for him. We're doing it in cycles this time, so he's gonna have the first infusion tomorrow, and then a couple weeks of rest. That'll give his body some time to make new, healthy cells."

"Fuck," he whispers. "He, I- fuck..."

"Go," the man murmurs. "I'll take care of your other patients. He needs someone with him right now."

He nods. His hands are shaking. He feels it in his legs too, like they're the consistency of jello and won't carry him any further if he tries to walk. He forces down a swallow and turns around.

And he runs.

...

His chest hurts.

It's a thorn in his side, a stabbing pain that keeps shooting and getting worse the faster he goes. It's the kind of pain he knows will get worse if he stops. He can't stop running. He needs to find Awsten. Can't stop running need to find Awsten can't stop where is he where is he where is it-

Not in his room. Not in the pediatric ward. Not in the playroom. None of the kids seem like they've seen him. Geoff doesn't want to say anything, doesn't want to ask Georgia or Toby whether he's passed by, they don't need to know. You don't need to scare the. They don't need to know.

"Fucking hell, where is he?" He grunts. "Aws? Awsten!"

He finds himself in Awsten's room once again, surveying the nightstand – his journal is still sitting there, like always – and the bed – his phone isn't there, so he must have it with him. He rakes a hand through his hair with a shaky gasp. "Fuck, Aws, where are you?"

That's when he hears it.

It's tiny. The sound is smaller than he's heard from Awsten in a long time. If he didn't know any better, he'd think it was one of the kids. It almost sounds like Matty or Nia on a bad day. They're the most vocal about it. Lily never says anything and Jacob is starting to follow in Toby's footsteps, not expressing unless he's asked.

"Oh, sunshine..." he sighs. He steps around in front of the bathroom – the door is open, why the fuck didn't he bother looking the first time he was here – and bites his lip. He moves further into the bathroom, a few feet behind Awsten, and looks over him, into the mirror.

There are tears rolling down his cheeks. His eyes are red. He's perched on the bathroom counter, fiddling with an electric razor, trying to plug it into the outlet next to the sink. It keeps slipping out of his hands because they're shaking so much.

"Aws..."

"Please don't shave your head too." The words are punctuated by a sob. He slides off the counter and takes a couple steps to meet Geoff in the middle of the bathroom. He reaches up and tangles a hand in Geoff's hair, swallows heavily. "You're just starting to look like yourself again. And it- it reminds me of what I lost."

He shaved his head. He remembers the day, remembers feeling the realization, the start against his chest as Awsten sat up in a flurry and burst into tears. He remembers the grip, how tightly he held him, lips pressed against his head and fingers running rapidly through his hair, it's just hair, sunshine. It doesn't define you. You'll still be beautiful. He remembers the lasting kiss, leaving his lips against Awsten's head for a while, and hey, it'll grow back, y'know? It's a reminder of what you're going through. How strong you are. It'll grow back when all of this is over and you can dye it whatever color you want and you'll always remember what it took to get you there. It's just hair, love. Okay? Just hair.

He remembers waiting until Awsten had finally drifted into sleep, going straight to the bathroom and turning on the razor without a second thought.

The lump in his throat is throbbing. His vision is starting to blur, slightly misty and foggy at the edges. He reaches out and pulls Awsten into his arms. Awsten snakes his own arms around his back and they stay there. He tightens his grip and Awsten grabs fistfuls of his shirt and no one moves. Nothing moves. They stay.

When he pulls back, it's just a tad, only enough to keep Awsten at arm's length, "what if neither of us shave our heads?"

"Geoff, I can't," Awsten says quietly. He drops his head down. "I can't watch it gradually-" His breath hitches. "Just...fall out."

"Hey, whoa, breathe." Geoff tightens his arm around Awsten's back and presses another kiss to his head.

What's a color you've always wanted your hair to be?"

...

September 15th, 2017 – 9:56 AM

"Alright kiddo, just attaching this last bag, and...you're all set, okay? It's gonna be a while, though, so make yourself comfy."

"Can...can he stay?"

Geoff swallows. The words feel like a bullet sent spiraling into the bottom of his heart. Awsten owns it, climbed into his chest and claimed it so long ago, sits on top with the most beautiful smile on his face and both hands under his chin, faced turned up to the sky. Awsten has the largest part of his heart, the same part that's been stitched over and glued together and hangs, from the thinnest thread. Awsten has it and he keeps breaking it.

"I took today off," he says, before the nurse has a chance to speak. "Tomorrow too. And I can take Wednesday if you need me to. I'm here, sunshine. You've got me."

They knew. Awsten's doctor was ready to fight if he had to, make sure, if anyone says anything to you, you send them to me, okay? The kid has no one and I'll be damned if they don't let you stay with him. The hospital didn't give him any trouble, and up until this point, he's been allowed to be in the room for everything. They needed to do a blood test and even let him be the one to do it, let him practice medicine on his day off because Awsten was getting panicky and this could not be the first blood draw in years that ended in tragedy.

"Of course he can stay," the nurse says. "I'll be back in a little while to check on you, okay? You know to press the button if you need anything, so just...good luck, sweetheart. Let's hope you don't react too badly."

Geoff drops to his knees in front of Awsten once she's out of the room, grabs both his hands and squeezes. "You doing okay, love? Still feel sick?"

Awsten shrugs and turns his head away. "I dunno."

"Your hair looks pretty." He leans up to brush his fingers through the newly dyed blue strands. They put a ton of conditioner in after the bleach and the result is so soft. He can't stop playing with it.

"Shut up."

"Hey," he murmurs. He squeezes Awsten's hands again, swings them back and forth. "It's gonna be okay, sunshine. We'll get through this."

"I just-" Awsten's face seems to crumple. He bites his lip and lets out a dry sob. "I thought it was over. I thought I was finally getting my life back. I thought- I thought I was done with this..."

Geoff stops there. He has to.

The ache is giant. It feels too big. It's right behind his eyes, a malleable balloon that's seconds away from popping. It lodges itself in, presses against the rut in his skull, and keeps going. The pocket of tears feels too full. It all feels too full. Everything is too full.

He doesn't know what to say.

He doesn't know what words to string together, what message to send, how to breathe reassurances into a body that's already beyond fallen apart. He doesn't know how to keep saying it'll be okay, you'll beat it, you've got this, I promise it'll all be okay, because he doesn't.

He doesn't know if it'll be okay.

Awsten's cheeks are red. His eyes are glassy. His lip is quivering. His hands are clammy in Geoff's, damp and slick with sweat. He looks so small in the chair, with his skinny shoulders and tiny frame, a child in a near adult's body living a life he never wanted.

He swallows and stands up on his knees, surges forward and takes Awsten into his arms – as best he can without disturbing the IV – and kisses the side of his head. He holds him for a while, keeps his lips against his skin and his eyes closed. Sunshine.

"What can I do?" The words feel hollow. It's like someone punched a hole through his chest and the pieces are dangling, bone fragments hanging from tiny threads, teetering over falling to their deaths and embedding themselves deep into the bottom of his chest cavity.

"The kids," Awsten whispers. His voice is thick. "Don't say anything to them, okay? They don't need to know."

...

"Easy, love, there you go, you're okay. Deep breaths, you're doing so well."

The aftereffects of the chemo don't waste any time. He rubs Awsten's back as he gags again, winces and tries to keep hold of the basin while still supporting Awsten's body. Awsten lets out a sob in between heaves. Tears are pouring down his cheeks. His hair is plastered to his forehead, sticky with sweat.

"Geoff..." Awsten whimpers. The spell seems to be over (for now, at the very least), but he doesn't lift his head. "It hurts."

"I know, sunshine. I'm sorry." He winds his arm tighter around Awsten's back and moves the basin off to the side. "You think you're done for now?"

"I dunno."

"Sunshine..."

"They probably think I left them." Awsten's voice is hoarse, raspy from all the vomit. "They're gonna be so mad at me, I- fuck." He scrambles against Geoff's arm and grabs for the basin, moves his head over it just in time to gag once more.

Geoff sighs and rubs his back, reaches over to hold the container on Awsten's lap. "Careful, sweetheart. You're gonna really hurt yourself if you keep doin' this."

"Already did," come the words, soft with a hint of rasp. "You- you should go ta them. They need you-" He pauses and shifts with a grimace. "M-more than I do. M'used to this."

"Stop." He tightens his grip around Awsten's waist. Awsten turns to look at him, and he exhales, shakes his head and runs a finger across Awsten's sweaty cheek. "I took the week off. You know that. You're my priority right now. The kids are fine, love. The other nurses have them." He sighs and leans in to kiss Awsten's hair. "You take care of everyone, sunshine. Now it's my turn to take care of you."

He's never reacted well to chemo. Geoff remembers the first time, remembers when he learned what it meant to 'feel your heart sink into your stomach'. He remembers standing at the edge of Awsten's bed with tears in his eyes, feeling bugs stinging his skin and the blood rushing in his ears, like Awsten was on fire and he'd turned into gasoline.

The vomiting doesn't start until afterward, until the chemicals have had a chance to seep into his bloodstreams and settle in amongst the cells. It takes them a while to adjust, but once they do, the damage begins.

He throws up everything in his system and cries, burns up with a fever that fries, all whilst the chemo wreaks havoc on his body. Geoff watches and winces and feels more pieces of his heart chip off, feels them drop and press into the bottom of his chest and sting, bleed, you're fucking useless why can't you do anything fucking do something you useless piece of shit. He doesn't deserve to suffer like this.

He doesn't deserve to suffer like this.

"G-Gee?" He blinks and refocuses on Awsten, pulls his teeth in with his lip and presses down. "I'm c-cold..." He's shivering. His teeth are chattering loudly. "M-make it stop..."

Geoff swallows and moves his hand up to Awsten's forehead. He has to pull it away almost instantly, lean back and shake his hand out before he wraps it around Awsten's waist again. "You're burning up, sweetheart. Lemme just go get a cloth..." He squirms, tries to push Awsten's arms away and detach himself. "Love, you gotta let go."

"No." Awsten's voice is so small. "Warm."

"Yeah, you are, sunshine. Your fever is high." Geoff sighs. His heart feels like it's bleeding, like every word is a separate slash and every piece is sailing away on a raft of its own. "This'll help, I promise."

"I got it."

He inhales sharply as he lifts his head; watches Otto take a couple steps up to the edge of the bed and place a folded washcloth in the middle of Awsten's forehead. His own hair is shoved into a beanie and his eyes are downcast. He straightens the fabric on Awsten's head and leans in to brush his lips against his hair.

"I didn't- they didn't say you were-"

"You haven't picked up your phone in days," Otto murmurs. "Jawn and I were worried. He wanted ta come with, but he got called into work. I didn't..." He trails off and shakes his head. "Why didn't you tell me, Geoff? He's your boyfriend, but he's...he's important to me too. You know that."

"I..." He looks down at Awsten, whose eyes are closed. His breathing is starting to deepen. "I didn't know what to say. How to say it, I guess? I don't know anything anymore. M'just..." He swallows. "I can't feel. Not right now. Not while he's feeling everything."

"You can." Otto glances behind himself and reaches for one of the chairs that are been backed against the wall. He slides it over and turns it around, sits backward and grips onto the bars at the back. "With me."

...

"I can't do this. Not when he's like this, I just-"

Geoff cuts himself off, tightens his grip around Awsten and keeps his eyes trained there. He waits for him to continue, to pick up where he left off and finish the thought, but the words don't seem to come.

"He's asleep," he says. "And he has a fever so it's a pretty fuckin' deep sleep. You're okay, Geoff. Let it all out."

"I can't," Geoff grounds out. His voice sounds choked. It's like there's gravel in his throat, a new piece tangling with every word. "He needs me not to. I can't have my feelings right now. They're not important."

He sighs and stands, walks back over to the side of the bed and reaches for one of Geoff's hands. "They're always important."

Geoff does this. He always has. He represses and pulls in, absorbs every last ounce of what he's feeling to put it in this tiny bottle and lodge that in the hollows of his chest. He squeezes out whatever he can, has a breakdown in the staff room or bursts into tears while he's getting ready, turns on the waterworks for a minute and then forces them off, forces it down, forces everything away.

"His cancer's back," Geoff says the words to Awsten's head. He won't look up. "It's back and it might be worse than before we don't know and he's back on chemo and everything's happening all at once and I don't have time for this." He finally lifts his head. His eyes are glassy and red-rimmed. "I have him and the kids and all the fucking work I have to do here I just can't-" A dry sob. "I just can't."

"You don't have to," Otto replies. He leans forward to wrap his arms around Geoff's shoulders, careful to avoid disturbing Awsten. He can feel the sleeve of his shirt starting to dampen. He winces. "Not right now. Right now is yours, okay? You don't have to be anything for anyone. It's okay. Just breathe, alright? I gotcha."

It's silent for a few minutes. Geoff cries quietly against him, silent tears that are soaking into the fabric of his shirt. "I'm so scared. All the time. I'm so fucking scared this might be it. That I might-" A breath that ends in a sob. "I'm so fucking scared I might lose him."

The ache behind his eyes is big. He wants to cry too. Everything hurts.

He swallows and tightens his grip, starts to rub Geoff's upper back. "You won't. He's gonna be okay. I know he is. He's survived the worst and he'll survive this too. You know him. You know how much he's been through. He's so strong. He's not going down without a fight."

"I don't know how much fight he has left."

...

September 21st, 2017 – 2:38 PM

"Awsie!"

"Whoa!"

"It's blue!"

"Your hair's so pretty!"

He swallows against the lump in his throat and forces the smile to say on his face. Nothing is wrong. They don't need to know. Nothing is wrong. You can't tell them. They don't need to know. They don't need to worry. Nothing is wrong.

The last six days have been the worst he's had in a very long time. He doesn't remember the last time it was this bad, can't recall a time previously when pulling himself out of bed didn't feel like his body weighed a thousand tons and merely opening his eyes formed a very large lump in his throat that fortified itself with steel.

He's been staying away. The chemo is hard. It hurts. His body feels like a battlefield but the war's barely started. Every side effect is a new battle, a new tiff that breaks out and wreaks havoc. It feels like he's bleeding, all the time. Every day he's being sliced open a different way, and the pieces that are left don't fit together anymore.

"You like it?"

"Yeah!" The vigorous nod comes from Nia. "It's awesome!"

"Thanks, love," he says. He steps over to her bed and shifts Rosie against his hip to ruffle her hair. "How've you been today?"

"Missed you." Nia ignores the question and holds her arms out. "Where'd you go?"

He exhales and swallows again, feels the saliva travel downward and settle in his stomach heavily. Nothing is wrong. They don't need to know. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong. "I just got really busy with my family and stuff." He pauses, tries to keep his voice steady. "But I really missed you guys."

A silence falls over the room. He bites his lip. Toby and Georgia are looking at him. He can see the confusion on their faces. Their gazes are burning into his back. They don't believe you they don't believe you they don't-

He feels an arm snake around his back and exhales a shaky breath, leans into Geoff's grip and closes his eyes for a briefly. Geoff rubs his back for a few seconds and then takes a step over to Nia's bed. "And they really missed you too, so how would y'all feel about a movie night to catch up?"

"Yeah!"

"Yes!"

"Please, Awsie?"

He smiles, presses a kiss against the top of Rosie's head with a swallow. "Geoff was just telling me that he got some new movies for you guys. I think he got Moana and that other new Disney one..."

Lily is leaning so far off her bed that she looks like she's going to fall out. Her eyes are wide. She's reaching for him, making grabby hands and opening and closing her fingers. He takes a step closer, shifts Rosie on his hip and reaches for one of her hands with his free one. He tightens his hold on Rosie so he can lean down and press a kiss to her hair.

"Movie night it is." He hears Geoff say from behind. "Let's go into the playroom guys, alright?"

"Yeah!"

None of the kids have IVs in at the moment. He knows Jacob is scheduled for a vitals check in a couple hours – Lily just got back from hers, Geoff is doing Nia's right now, Matty's was done, and Rosie just finished – and Georgia and Toby know when they have to get up and come back into the ward for their checks. This is – ironically – the perfect time.

Matty jumps onto Geoff's back. He watches Jacob tap Toby's shoulder until he gives a very heavy mock sigh and crouches down too. Nia grabs Georgia's hand and starts to giggle, race you to the playroom! Boys vs. girls! Their footsteps are loud as they run out of the room and stomp down the hall.

"Ow, sweetheart." He unclasps Rosie's chubby fingers from his hair and kisses her cheek. "Careful, okay?" She babbles something he doesn't quite catch and flops against his shoulder.

"Awsie?" He feels a tug at the hem of his shirt and smiles down at Lily.

"Yeah, love?"

"Your hair's really pretty," she says softly. She moves her gaze down to stare at her lap as soon as she finishes talking.

"Thank you, Lil," he murmurs. He lifts her chin and brushes his fingers through her hair. "Come on, let's go watch the movie, hm?" He turns around and bends his knees slightly. "Climb on."

"You've got Rosie." Lily's voice is barely audible at this point. "It's okay."

"I can carry you both," he replies. His heart feels like it's being pulled, like her piece is trying to tear itself from the whole. He shifts Rosie with one arm, and uses the other to squeeze Lily's hand. "C'mere, love. We'll go watch Moana and I'll braid your hair, how's that sound?"

Lily smiles.

...

A crab is singing.

An evil crab is singing a song about something being shiny. He isn't sure what or what happened or how they got to this point, but a crab is clawing at whatever character The Rock is playing and singing about seafood and shiny things.

The younger kids are enthralled. Lily, Nia, and Matty haven't looked up since the movie began. Toby, Jacob, and Georgia seem a little less captured and Rosie probably couldn't care less, but the little kids are enjoying it.

He hasn't really been following the story. The songs are catchy and the dialogue is funny at some parts, but he hasn't been able to pull his mind out of the hole it's been sucked into.

It's all so much. It's so much and it feels so heavy and he can't move out from underneath. He can't move or breathe or escape any of it. These white walls are his reality, a physical representation of the life that feels like catastrophe.

It was starting to get better. Things were starting to go back to normal. He was starting to unstick himself from the passive as he passed into a more active role in his life. The world was starting to come back into orbit, like he'd finally come back to Earth and reentered his body again, given life to a body that had been disguised as a corpse for so long.

He was alive but never living.

The world was different too. He remembers that, when a tiny stream of light cracked through the weight on his shoulders, split it in half and started to break off pieces. He remembers feeling lighter, feeling like he was floating in the best way, overlooking cotton candy skies through newfound rollercoaster highs.

He remembers how sparkly everything started to look. The world was clearer and brighter and prettier, with glitter and shine everywhere. It felt like a dream. Like his nightmare was morphing into an existence he could get used to living in. A conclusion that was no longer confusing. The world wasn't blurry anymore. Nothing was blurry anymore.

It was a new canvas and he'd been given paints for the first time.

And then it hit. A wrecking ball that was on fire, sparking with every reminder of the existence that-

He swallows. The lump in his throat is throbbing. Everything feels far away, like he's managed to float out of his body and onto a separate layer of pain in the last twenty minutes. He blinks, refocuses his vision, and forces in a deep breath. Not now. You'll have time for this later. Not now. Not now. Not now.

He rakes a hand through his hair.

He stops.

Someone hit pause on the world. The breath has been sucked dry from his body, leeched from his bones and tugged away from his throat. It feels like sandpaper. The last thread holding his heart together has snapped and it's falling down, further and further, sinking into his stomach and rolling back on the switch that sends nausea surging up into his veins.

No. No. No.

He forces himself to look downward, moves his entire head to stare at his hands, stare at the lock of hair that has just fallen out and into his palm.

He tries to stifle it, keep it back, lodge it in his chest for later when he's back in his room and Geoff is with him- wait for Geoff wait for Geoff not now please not right now I can't do this- so it's not nearly as loud as if he'd chosen not to, but a tiny sound, a whimper leaves his throat.

He hears the gasp.

He whips his head up, locks eyes with Georgia, whose gaze is flittering from the lock of hair to him so fast he can't follow it. Her lip is already starting to quiver. Her eyes are getting glassy.

"Fuck," he curses in a whisper. He closes his fingers around the lock of hair and slips his hand into his pocket, slides out from under Lily, "I'll be right back, alright love? Just gonna go to the bathroom real quick."

He meets Georgia's eyes once again and then looks pointedly at the hallway, bites his lip, what the hell am I supposed to say to her how do I do this she wasn't supposed to find out she wasn't fuckfuckfuck-

Georgia makes her way out of the playroom and steps no further, plants her feet and crosses her arms over her chest. Her lip is wobbling dangerously and there are already tears on her cheeks.

"Georgia, love..." he sighs, shakes his head and presses harder into his lip. "I didn't, you weren't supposed to-"

"You're sick again," Georgia chokes out. Her voice is thick with tears. "Aren't you? It's back. You're getting chemo again. That's why your hair is falling out."

"Sweetheart..." His heart is constricting. It feels like she just took a sledgehammer to it, slammed into it at full force and smashed it to smithereens. Nausea is swimming up his throat. The ache behind his eyes is pulsating.

"Answer me!"

"Yeah," he says. His voice cracks. He knows he's crying too. "They found some abnormalities in my white blood cells, and-

Georgia sobs. She covers her face with her hands and cries loudly, a kind of sound that bottles itself up and comes flying toward him, bypasses every layer of skin to crash into what's left of his heart.

He surges forward and pulls her into his arms, presses nose to head, wraps arms around waist. She throws her arms around his abdomen and buries her head in his chest, lets out another sob that muffles slightly into his shirt but still sounds as guttural as the first one.

"It's gonna be okay, love," he whispers. His voice is shaking. His hands are, too. He tries to keep them steady as he rubs her back, kisses the top of her head and hugs her even closer. "I'm gonna be okay. You don't have to worry about me. I'll beat this, you'll see."

"You don't know that!" Georgia wails. "You don't know anything! What happens if you don't? What are we gonna do? Awsie," She hiccups, chokes on tears and starts to cough. He winces and presses firmer into her back, rubs in small, tight circles. "What am I gonna do without you?"

"Nothing." He closes his eyes and presses his cheek against the top of her head, lets the tears stream freely down his face. "Because I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm staying right here. I'm gonna beat this and be around to play Monopoly with you and help you with lyrics and tease you about Toby and teach you- teach you how to play guitar. I'm gonna be around. I'm gonna beat this. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

...

September 22nd, 2017 – 11:21 AM

"N-no."

Lily starts shaking her head, slow at first, and then faster and faster, eventually so fast that she's probably making herself dizzy. He sighs and takes a step forward, reaches for her shoulders. She tenses underneath him, but doesn't start to move away. Just as he's about to speak, he hears the tiniest, "No, Awsie."

Lily is peering up at him with wide, glassy eyes. Her lip is quivering. His grip on her shoulders has allowed her to wrap her hands around his forearms. She squeezes. Her little nails are digging into his skin, sharp enough to prick, but not nearly enough to hurt. "Please. No."

"Lil." He bends his knees and crouches so he's at her eye level. "I promise it'll be okay, love. It's not going to hurt. You'll be fine."

"Scary," she mumbles. Her voice is so small. She moves her gaze to her lap and pulls her knees up and into her chest. "Don't wanna."

"How about I come with you?" He offers. He scoots his hands down and around her back, slides onto the bed and pulls her to his chest in one motion. She curls in and buries her face in his shirt, lets out the tiniest whimper that slowly transitions into a sigh.

He swallows. He looks down at her and watches his hand come up to rub her back, keeps his eyes there and pulls his lip in with his teeth.

It's like his heart's been split, like each of the kids has crawled inside and claimed their own piece, perched on top of them and turned each one into their own arts and crafts project. They're both different and vital, like slashing through one or feeling it pull away from the hole turns everything upside down. If one of them falls, they all fall. They all fall and nothing's okay. These kids inadvertently have so much power, positions that weren't necessarily given to them but happened on their own; he got attached and they made their homes in his heart and he's not getting any of it back.

The universe seems to be on his side. Lily contemplates things for a few seconds longer before peeking up at him long enough to nod. She clenches her fingers around the fabric of his shirt and scoots even closer, close enough that he eventually pulls her onto his lap and moves to properly sit on the bed, shoots an apologetic look at the orderlies that have to transport a much heavier bed than they were originally planning to.

"It's an ultrasound," one of them says. "So you're good, kiddo. We're just bringing this in." They roll in the ultrasound machine, right up to the edge of the bed, and set to work connecting everything.

"Do you know what it's for?" Geoff wouldn't tell him. He's asked multiple nurses – maybe they didn't tell him 'cause he's a student – but they've been silent too. No one will tell him what's going on. They're hiding and he's trying, trying to find their needle in the haystack of 'I don't knows', trying to keep his breaths at ease when it feels like everything is starting to freeze.

"They didn't tell us anything, kid, sorry. We just gotta get all this hooked up before the doctor comes in, alright?"

He swallows and forces out a nod. His heart is racing. He doesn't know what's going on. His breath is coming shorter, shallower and shallower as he grips Lily's body tighter and buries his nose in her hair. He doesn't know what's wrong doesn't know what's wrong what'swrongwhat'swrongwhat'swrong-

It's just a routine ultrasound.

She's going to be fine.

It's just a routine ultrasound.

She's going to be fine.

She's going to be fine.

She's going to be fine.

The saliva feels heavy in his stomach.

She's going to be fine.

She has to be fine.

...

September 22nd, 4:45 PM

"Yeah, and just put your middle finger there...yep, there you go, that's G major."

Toby shifts his finger into place and strums the chord, smiles widely at the sound. Awsten looks down at the neck of his own instrument and follows up with another G chord, one Toby's sounds almost exactly like. He's getting it.

"Good!" He exclaims. "You're a fast learner."

"I have a good teacher." Toby looks back up at him and bites his lip. "But he's really stupid sometimes, too."

"W-what?" He swallows. His heart picks up almost immediately, like someone flipped a switch to turn from peace to panic. Toby is the oldest. He's not like Nia or Lily or Jacob; he can't be placated with a white lie wrapped in lullabies. He knows what's up and he sees through everything.

Toby moves his gaze to the ground. "Georgia told me," he says quietly. "Y'know, what you guys talked about a couple days ago. Don't be mad at her!" He holds his hands up in surrender. "I kinda forced it out. She was crying and kept crawling in my bed with me and I needed to know what was goin' on."

"So you..." he trails off. The words die in his throat, like the lump lodged in the back has grown to a full-on barrier keeping them back. The bugs are starting to awaken under his skin, press their stingers down further and gnaw and absorb. "You know..."

"...yeah."

"Fuck." He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fingers around the neck of the guitar, and feels the strings dig into his skin. It hurts. It stings. But it's a good pain, a good sting. He presses further.

"You're not on your own, y'know."

"Toby, I-" Everything stings. The world is on fire and it's starting to burn deep, char everything that's left of his chest and turn it all to ruble. He knows. He knows. The one thing he wasn't supposed to find out and he knows and Georgia knows and the kids Nia Lily, Jacob Matty fuckfuckfuck-

"You're always there for us," Toby continues. "You hold Jacob when he has nightmares and go with Lily to her scans and make sure Nia doesn't rip her cannulas out. You're the one that knows what Matty needs when he's having a bad day and makes sure Rosie's getting the love she needs. You make sure all of us, are getting the love we need." His voice catches in his throat. He pauses and shakes his head. "But it goes both ways, y'know? You don't have to be the hero all the time. It's okay to need us sometimes too."

He swallows. The ache behind his eyes is starting to burst. It's leaking everywhere, paint layers of pain coating the room in anguish. Everything feels too big. It's too much. This is too much. It's all too much.

"I just..." is all he can force out. Everything hurts. It's too much. It hurts. "I'm so scared. All the time. And I didn't- I didn't want you guys to be scared. I'm always the one tellin' you it'll be okay but this I just- I don't know. I don't know if it'll be okay and I didn't wanna scare you guys and I just- I didn't want anyone to worry about me." A sob tears from his throat, dry and scratchy. It feels like there's an open wound left in its wake, raw and blistering. It feels like razors cutting through everything.

Toby's eyes are glassy and his voice is thick when he speaks next, "you're our big brother, Aws. We love you. We don't know if it'll end up okay but we can be there for you while it happens. Like you are for us all the time. We wanna be there for you. Let us be there for you. You've done enough for us." His breath hitches.

"And hey, even heroes need saving sometimes, right?"

...

September 23rd, 2017 – 1:30 PM

"NO! PLEASE! AWSIE!"

He hears the cries from across the hospital. They're distinct, punctuated by guttural sobs and loud, raspy coughs. He pulls the other earbud out of his ear and flips his journal shut, slides off the bed and wobbles onto his feet in one motion.

His heart is racing.

He can feel it in his ears as he takes off, runs out of his room and into the hallway, past the nurses' desk, Awsten, don't run! You're gonna hurt yourself or someone- and straight to the pediatric ward. He bursts through the double doors at full speed, squeezes his eyes shut and swallows against the nausea already rising.

His stomach is in his throat. It's the kind of feeling you get running the mile in PE, that overwhelming stickiness and heaviness in your chest, like it's nausea rather than blood being pumped into your veins, knowing that you have to keep going, because if you stop you're going to puke. It's a blanket that drapes over him stickily, coats everything in a mush and blurs it all together.

Lily.

Lily's crying.

He stumbles over to her bed – wobbles dangerously and almost trips and collapses on himself multiple times – and straightens against the rails. A weight hits his chest. A pair of arms winds around his neck.

"Lil," he chokes out. His breath is coming in pants. The room is tilting and shifting. He reaches his arms up to wrap around her, pulls her into his chest and turns to the man standing at the foot of her bed. There's a nurse on the other side, holding a needle attached to a tube, with two more tubes lined up in the tray in front of her. "What the hell is going on?"

"Awsten-"

"Was this planned?" He continues. He knows Lily's doctor. The man is the main guy in charge of all the kids; he's a fifth year resident who oversees all of their care after the specialists give instructions. He's been doing this for a while now, spent most of his residency in this ward – Awsten'd like to think they know each other pretty well.

He would've said something, if Lily had a planned blood test. The entire ward knows how terrified she is of needles. It's a process; they tell him the day before and he goes to her that night, slips into bed next to her and strokes her hair as he tells her what's going to happen. He stays with her – the nurses are all used to this by now; they know that if it doesn't happen, then, well, this, will happen – and coaxes her into things slowly, and it works. It works every time.

"Awsie they're tryna stick me I don't want it please don't let them it'll hurt I don't want it please-" The words come out as more of a gasp. She heaves at the end, coughs so harshly that she's dry gagging against his shoulder.

"Whoa, hey, it's okay," he murmurs. He rests his chin on top of her head and starts to rub her back, presses a kiss against her hair. "Awsie's here, love, I'm here. I'm not gonna let them do anything to you that you're not ready for, alright?"

"Awsten, can I talk to you in the hall?"

"I'll be right back, okay?" He starts the flood of sweet nothings against Lily's body as soon as her doctor finishes speaking. She's shaking her head and saying no over and over, squeezing her eyes shut and crying loudly. "I promise, they're not going to do anything-" He pauses to look pointedly up at the nurse, who nods and sets the syringe down. "Until I get back. No one's going to touch you love, I promise. I'm gonna go talk to the doctor. I'll be right back."

"What the hell are you doing?" The words come out as a growl. His chest aches. He can still hear Lily crying in the other room. Every sound feels like another slice at the fragments of his chest cavity, another hole poked into Lily's piece of his heart. The world was just set on the fire, but he doesn't know where the source is. He doesn't know where it's coming from and he doesn't know how to stop it. "I haven't seen her that upset in years. She's fuckin' terrified."

"Awsten."

He stops.

The anger, the white-hot walls building themselves up in his chest, stop. Everything feels like it's falling, like he's plummeting back to Earth with that single word. "H-her- the ultrasound," he whispers. "What did it say?"

"There's something wrong with her kidneys. We need to do some more tests to confirm – that's what we're taking her blood for – but it's very possible she might be in kidney failure, kiddo."

"I'll do it." He doesn't register the words until he's saying them. His heart is racing. The world is spinning away, a tiny dot, a blip on his radar. He's somewhere else, in a different existence, and everything is screeching to a halt. "I'm a match."

"We haven't confirmed she needs a kidney yet," the man says. "And kid, I hate to break it to you, but...if she does, you can't donate. You're getting chemo, remember? Your immune system's already compromised beyond belief. No one in their right mind would let you do a transplant right now."

He stops.

...

September 25th, 2017 – 8:28 PM

"How're you holdin' up?"

He swallows at the voice, doesn't move to lift his head or turn toward the door. "What're you doin' here?"

"I heard." There's rustling. He hears a jacket unzip, and then hears it fall to the ground. "About everything. I talked to Geoff. Aws, I'm so-"

"Save it." He bites the words, but it feels like the pocket of tears is pressing harder against his skull. His throat is closed. Speaking feels like razor blades cutting up his vocal chords, like there's a wheel of knives shredding them to pieces. The ache lodged between skin and skull stays, pounds and presses in until keeping his eyes open starts to hurt. "I don't wanna do this right now."

"You can't keep it locked up. You suck at that. We both know it."

"I can't do this." He grounds the last two words out and lifts his head to glare at Jawn. "Don't you get it? I can't talk about it. I can't think about it. I can't do it."

"Not talking about it isn't gonna make it hurt any less," Jawn says. "But at least lemme give you a hug first. You scared me, you fuckin' asshole."

"It wasn't a damn picnic for me either, thanks," he mutters. Jawn moves toward him and he lets it happen, feels the arms around him and leans up and into the hold. He buries his face in Jawn's chest and exhales, feels the lump in his throat start to throb and tries to bite back the sob.

"It's gonna be okay." Jawn rubs his back and he leans into it. The ache feels too big. Too much. It's forcing itself against his skull in a pocket of pain that feels too heavy. It all feels too heavy.

He wants to sleep. He doesn't want to do this anymore.

He wants to sleep.

He doesn't want to be here anymore.

...

"You're not gonna talk to Geoff about this. So it's either me, or I'm going to your doctor and telling him you need a damn therapist."

"You wouldn't."

"I fucking would," he shoots back. The words feel hot, leaving his chest. His hands are shaking. Everything is tooredtoohottoored- "I can't just sit here and watch you destroy yourself."

Awsten laughs. It's a different kinda of laugh. It sounds choked. His voice is slightly raspy. It sounds like poison, like the sound has injected it into the air and it's starting to diffuse across the whole room. "Destroy myself? You think I'm doing this?"

"Awsten..." The marks beneath his eyes have deepened. They're a darker shade of purple, deep enough to reach the tops of his cheeks. He looks paler. Jawn knows he's already had a chemo infusion – they fuck with him really bad, remember? He doesn't look very good. But it's helping. It's supposed to help – but he didn't think it would happen this fast.

He's pale. He looks sick. It's like the cancer patients you see in the movies, sunken in eyes and sallow skin, pale and weak and sickly.

"How the fuck am I supposed ta get better when my life won't?"

A silence falls over the room. It's sticky. It feels like a blanket that has stingers attached to it, pressing into his skin and burning. He doesn't know what to say. There's nothing left to say.

He's never known what to say. He remembers being ten years old, watching Geoff hold a cloth to Awsten's forehead while trying to figure out what words yelled into his mom's answering machine would make her pick up. He remembers getting into bed with Awsten and curling around him, please, J, I'm so cold please hold me it hurts so bad, trying to keep the liquid out of his eyes so Awsten could spill freely. But most of all, he remembers the late nights, staying up till 3am even though exhaustion tugged at his bones because Awsten couldn't sleep and wouldn't sleep and I'm so tired, Jawn. I'm so fucking tired of pretending it'll be okay because bad things keep happening and I don't want to do this anymore.

He remembers going home, laying awake for hours into the night and staring at his ceiling, please, anyone, if you're up there, please just...turn his luck around. Give him some good. He doesn't need anymore bad things to happen. Make his life good, please, give me all the bad stuff if you want, but he's been through enough.

I don't know if he'll survive another bad thing.

(I think he'll actually do it.)

Awsten has depression.

He was diagnosed when he was 14; right after they got the news that his cancer had gotten worse. Right after weeks of lying in bed that progressed to months of wishing he was dead. It was like life had sucked the color out of him. He was a wrung-out rag of empty promises and false hope.

He tried to kill himself when he was fifteen, stole one of the scalpels from a tray in the ER and went to town – nothing is getting better and it's too hard. I'm sorry. He ended up in therapy for six months, on a slew of medication to combat the cocktail of emotion wreaking havoc on his brain.

Awsten has depression and it's gotten a lot better in the past few years, calmed the tides as the trials in his life started to diminish. Things have been getting better. His promises were holding true – I told you it'd happen, didn't I? I don't break promises; he was finally starting to look like less of a dick as the universe clicked into place for the first time.

"Did they tell you anything else?"

"She needs a kidney." Awsten's voice is flat. "I can't donate. I'm a match. But I can't donate."

"How do you-"

"I know her damn blood type." It's a snap now. He bites the words. There's a hint of rasp; a hint of a sob that's poking its way through the surface, about to escape. "Geoff can't keep a fucking secret to save his life."

"She'll be okay," he says. His heart is racing. Not another bad thing he doesn't need this he can't do this right now why the fuck are you doing this why are you doing this to him what the hell did he do to deserve it- "They'll put her on a list, or something, right?"

"So she can die waiting?" Awsten is quiet for a few moments. He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head and bites his lip. "I just- I thought this was over. I thought I was done with it. I thought it was- I thought I was finally getting better..."

"Awsten..." He sighs out the word, feels the tug and burn in his chest. It's like that single utterance set everything on fire and now it's smoldering.

"Some days I still wish I was dead," Awsten mutters. "And it's not fair that obligation is the only thing holding me back from that."

"You're not doing that again." He stands, takes the couple steps over to Awsten's bedside and reaches for one of his hands. "Okay? I need you to promise me. You are not trying again."

"I don't want Geoff to have to explain it to them," Awsten mumbles. "They...I can't do that to them."

"You can't do that to yourself, either," he says. "You deserve to want that. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to live." His chest feels like it's being torn open. Slashed apart. The words are taking a knife through the structure he's been trying to rebuild for months. Everything is on fire and everything is broken and it's all so bad why is it so bad why does his life have to suck this much why do bad things keep happening to him-

"Sometimes it doesn't feel worth it anymore." Awsten's voice sounds different. He doesn't sound sad or angry or frustrated. The words are out there but they're different.

It's the voice of someone who's been sad too many times.

"I'll let you get some sleep, okay?" The words tumble out in a rush. His hands are shaking. His lip is quivering. The world looks blurry. Everything is starting to fog over. He reaches out and rubs his fingers down the side of Awsten's face, cups his cheek and leans down to kiss his forehead. "And I promise I'll come back tomorrow, 'cause we're not done talking about this. But it's late. You need your rest. You'll feel better in the morning, I promise."

"I'll still be dying."

...

September 25th, 2017 – 10:06 PM

"Sunshine? Hey love, you awake?"

Check on him. He's not in a good place. I don't think he should be alone right now. I...you gotta get him talking, Geoff. He's locking too much up and we- Jawn's voice caught there. The sob tore its way out without warning. I'm scared he might try again.

His shift just ended. It's not uncommon for him to stay, change out of his scrubs and make his way back to Awsten's room to check on him one last time. He spends a lot of time in this hospital outside what he's meant to; you're not okay and I'm not leaving you like this. If they let me stay, I'm here.

Awsten's parents don't. They fund his private room and make sure he has the best of the best, write a check every time someone calls their house in place of actually coming to the hospital to spend time with their son. Geoff knows the nights, curling around Awsten and trying to get his mom on the phone, why don't they care about me? What did I do wrong? He knows his heart breaking, feeling the bomb detonate and the pieces fly everywhere, a reminder of the life he couldn't fix. He couldn't fix it he couldn't do it he couldn't-

"Hey." He forces his voice to stay steady and drops to his knees to get on Awsten's eye level, reaches forward to brush his hands through Awsten's hair. "How're you feeling?"

"Didn't Jawn tell you?" He bites his lip at Awsten's voice. It's not loud or soft or happy or sad or scared or confident or anything. It's one level, one tone, one emotion. It's nothing.

"He's just worried, angel," he sighs. "I am too. We all are. You've had better days."

"Don't."

"Aws-"

"You don't have to be here," Awsten mutters. "You can go. I don't need another person to disappoint."

It feels like a bullet. It probably would've hut less, had Awsten pulled out a gun and shot him straight in the heart. It's a pain that encompasses, stretches out over everything and throws a blanket over it all. It's entrenching. Capturing. It feels white-hot at first, and then dies to a low buzz that's prominent enough to hurt, all the time.

"Listen to me." He stops himself, has to rein everything back in to keep from word vomiting everywhere. Breathe. It's gonna be okay. Breathe. "I'm your boyfriend, not your dad. I don't have some bullshit expectations you're letting down. I love you. I just want you to be happy, okay? I want you to feel better and be happy because you deserve it. I hate seeing you like this, sunshine."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"What, sunshine?" He swallows. He isn't sure how they got here. He doesn't know how they ended on this. Sunshine is- Awsten is sunshine. When he looks up at the blinding light, feels it rouse him every morning and blinks up at the rays through his window, when he feels the warmth against his back and the soft breeze against his chest...Awsten is sunshine.

"M'the furthest fuckin' thing from sunshine." Awsten bites his lip. He's staring at a spot on the wall, not really even looking at it. It's almost like he's staring right through it, like the x-rays have moved to his eyes.

"My love," he murmurs. He grabs one of Awsten's hands and brings it up to his lips. "You light up every room you walk into. You smile and laugh and tell stories, you expose your heart to the world even after it's been broken. You read to Jacob when he has nightmares and go with Nia to her scans and hold Lil all night if it makes her feel better about blood tests. You take Matty on adventures so he doesn't get bored – and so the other nurses and I don't rip our hair out – and you're so good with Rosie. She loves you. She attaches herself to you for a reason, y'know? You're teaching Toby guitar. And Georgia...what you've done with her and songwriting and helping her to become more confident in talking about her feelings...the other nurses and I talk about it all the time." He pauses. The lump in his throat is throbbing. "She may not be here if you hadn't done that. And after I've had a hard day-" He leans down and kisses Awsten's forehead. "You are where I want to go. You make them easier. You hold me and let me vent and make me feel like my problems are real, even when you're dealing with so much worse." He stares at Awsten through glassy eyes, takes his other hand and smiles. "You are the embodiment of sunshine."

He tilts his head forward and pecks Awsten's lips. Awsten wraps an arm around his neck as he kisses back. They stay there. His knees are bent in a very uncomfortable position and everything is burning, but they stay there. It's silent for a long time.

"I'm so scared she's gonna die."

The words hang in the air for a moment. He opens his mouth, knows he has to say something even though he doesn't know what to say; he needs to hear something, you idiot. Say something. Awsten beats him to it, "and if she goes, I go."

"Whoa, no," He breathes. He braces one hand against the mattress and pushes up, hooks his leg around Awsten and slides in behind him to straddle his body. He winds his arms around Awsten's waist and pulls him in, presses his lips against the top of his head and leaves them there. "We are so far from that, okay? I talked to Briars today. She is so far from that. And you are never doing that again. No matter what."

"I can't do it," Awsten says faintly. "I don't know how to live in a world she isn't."

"For her," he replies. He looks down at the mattress and reaches for Awsten's hand, laces their fingers together and squeezes. "You live, for her. Live the life she wouldn't be able to. You smile and you laugh and you love and you live. You beat this stupid fuck up of cells and get outta here and we go find a nice apartment in the city where you can look out over the buildings and we can go to art galleries on the weekends and walk around downtown and have people over for brunch." He moves his lips to the shell of Awsten's ear and starts to stroke his hair as he continues, "and you can find an amazing producer to sign you so you can sing your songs everywhere. Live for that, my love. If, god forbid, anything happened to her, she would want this. For you to live and love and laugh and let things get better. She'll be watching and she'll be so proud."

...

September 27th, 2017 – 3:31 PM

"Nurse W?"

He feels a tug at the hem of his scrub shirt and pauses to look down. "Yeah, love? What's up?"

"Why'd Awsie leave again?" The seven year old's voice is slightly higher than usual, lacking the hint of whine she usually has in favor of what sounds like genuine curiosity.

He sighs. Awsten hasn't gotten out of bed since that night. The kids haven't seen him in a couple days. Jawn came back, sat with him for a few hours and tried to coax some words out, he didn't say like, anything, dude. One word or a fuckin' head nod. I'm really worried about him.

He's okay most days. He deals with things as they come, processes the pain as it permeates, lets it seep in steadily rather than absorbing everything all at once. It's a tidal wave of false hope and empty promises that encompass him on the worst days. Geoff knows those.

He knows check-ups turned to suicide watches, curling around Awsten while still in his scrubs – don't you have work to do? scans to run? Patients that don't wanna off themselves to check on?

You're all I care about right now, love. I can't function if I don't know you're okay.

You've been functioning fine until now.

"Is Awsie okay?" He blinks rapidly to refocus his vision, and swallows against the newly formed lump in his throat as he takes a breath. The ache is back. Everything feels thicker in a way that makes the room start to blur. It's going fuzzy at its edges. He swallows.

"Yeah, sweetheart." He holds out a hand for her to put hers in. "Do you remember what we talked about a while ago?"

"Sometimes he has sad days," Nia says quietly. She's staring down his lap. "Where he doesn't want to get of bed."

"Right," he replies. The word feels thick. It's like the room has been filled with molasses, like they're swimming and wading and trying to break through the sticky mess that just keeps on coming. It feels too thick. Too heavy. Too much. "He'll feel better soon love, I promise."

"I wanna go."

"Hm?"

"I wanna go see Awsie," Nia repeats. "I wanna make him happy."

"Nia, love..." He bites his lip. It's a good idea. It bottles itself up and shoves into his heart, presses into one of the holes Awsten's created and starts to close it. It's warm. It might work.

Or, Awsten might say something so morbidly dark and give her permanent anxiety of whether each new day might be the day he actually does it.

"I wanna go," Nia insists, louder this time. "He needs me."

"Are you-"

"Please, Nurse W." Nia pokes out her bottom lip and widens her eyes.

"I wanna go."

...

He doesn't have the best track record with Septembers.

Maybe it's because that's when everyone from school goes back or the world starts to turn chilly and windy, maybe it's the reminder that you're never gonna be normal. This? This is your life. You're never gonna have something different. You'll never be like them. You'll never be like them.

You'll never be like them.

Maybe it's the reality that these four white walls are all he'll ever be.

He can't cry anymore. It feels like he's used up everything in his tear ducts, like they're scraping against the insides of themselves and scrambling for more water to let out. It hurts. All of it hurts. It's a pain that stays, sets the tendrils making up his chest ablaze; burns through the short phrase of this will pass. It's not forever. You'll get better, and sparks all over again.

September isn't good to him. It never has been.

This year hasn't been good to him. There was a spike and now it's falling all over again and Lily could die and he could die and everything's falling apart it's all gone to shit so quickly he was so happy what the fuck happened how the fuck did this become his life he was so happy he was going back to school he was supposed to be a normal one with everyone else how did this happen how did this happen how-

How the fuck did this happen-

He doesn't think because he can't breathe. He doesn't let himself. He ruminates and cultivates more anxiety, more dampness down his back and slickness on his hands and churning in his stomach, more hotcoldhotcan'tmovecan'tspeakcan'tbreathe, more tooheavytoohardtoomuch, until everything comes out all at once and he's left an empty shell of the promises he once was.

September isn't good to him.

"Awsie?"

He freezes.

Everything seems to stop. It's like someone hit pause on the world and play right after. It jars. Whatever he has in his stomach – bile and stomach acid grossgrossgross – is about to eject upward. He can feel it. It's too much. It's all too much.

This can't be happening.

Please no not her please why is this happening please I can't do this I can't deal with this pleasepleaseplease-

He feels the arm thrown across his side and the weight against his back. The arm span is tiny, but a tiny limb still snakes between his body and the mattress, wraps around him and squeezes tight. "I'm sorry you're sad."

"Nia," he chokes out. He didn't realize he was crying until the sob slipped, until that one word broke the barrier and sent the floodgates rushing. "Wha- I- you-"

"I wanna make you happy," Nia says softly. "But Nurse W said sometimes that doesn't happen. So I wanna be here. I hate being sad alone. I think everyone does. I don't want you to be sad alone."

He forces himself to swallow, twists around and flops onto his other side so he can meet her eyes. She's smiling at him, hair pinned back, eyes shiny. He knows his are red. Everything's red. Redwhitehotredwhitehotredwhite-

"Your hair is really pretty," Nia continues. "It looks like the smurfs! When you're better we'll watch the movies, okay? I have my own smurf, I'm so lucky..." She reaches up and starts to tangle her fingers through his- no.

Please no not now please nononononono-

"I thought- I thought something was wrong." He can hear the tears in her voice. She's holding a blue strand in her hands. They're shaking. Everything is shaking. Nothing feels real. He wants to go away why is this happening fuckfuckfuck- "B-but," she whispers. "It's gonna be okay, y'know? You're gonna fight. Beat this again. I know you will. 'Cause heroes always win, right? You're gonna win."

"Yeah," he chokes out. Reaching forward, he pulls her into his chest and squeezes, buries his nose in her hair and closes his eyes. "I'm gonna win. I'm gonna beat this, I promise. I'm gonna be here with you and we'll watch all the Smurf movies and eat all the blue ice cream and it'll be so good, okay? It'll be so good."

He sobs into her hair and clutches her even tighter against him. This is about the time she'd be whining, giggling, Awsie, you're holding me too tight!

She doesn't.

She stays.

He stays.

It'll be so good.

...

October 15th, 2017 – 10:56 AM

"Shhh, Lil. It's gonna be okay, love. Just keep breathing for me, that's it, you're doing so good."

"H-hurts, Awsie." The words come out in a gasp. She hiccups against his chest and chokes out another sob, one that seems to bubble up her throat and spurt out messily. "Hurts s-so bad..."

He sighs, squeezes her tighter and presses his hand firmer into her back. "I know, sweetheart. I know. It'll get better soon, I promise."

Kidney failure isn't the prettiest. She's at the top of the donor list, but her condition is deteriorating in front of their very eyes. She's been put on dialysis and a bunch of new medications to combat the symptoms and make her more comfortable, but the only thing that will actually help her pain is a new kidney. She needs one. She needs a transplant in the next couple weeks or she won't survive.

The past (almost) three weeks have been the worst of his life. He knows that for a fact, knows that nights spent staring at the ceiling, red eyes and aches in his chest, feeling like everything had been torn through and smashed with a wrecking ball, like the precious tendrils making up his ribcage had been broken down too many times and the strength to rebuild was too much.

This feels worse than that, like someone's gone in and torn through his chest like it was made of paper, torn the pieces into fragments that are scattering everywhere and falling, crashing, down to the bottom of his chest cavity. Every piece is a new sting, a new dig that sparks and burns and turns the whole world white-hot while he tries to catch his breath.

He's drowning, all of the time. It's too hard and too heavy and too much he's choking on mouthfuls of water every time he tries to swim he has no strength left to pull from within it's all such a mess of chemo and dialysis and tears is Lily okay she has to be okay what's going on with her no fuck I have to be there you don't understand she's scared she needs me-

You're having chemotherapy she needs me these are chemicals attacking your cells she needs me you need to take care of yourself she needs me-

He's had one more chemo infusion in the time, one that wasn't any better than the first. He puked and cried and pulled Geoff off the nurses' schedule for another three days, hid face in chest and forced himself not to come out until he could be an actual human being and not a saggy lump of flesh that couldn't stop complaining.

His feelings were like a painting and the canvas was already full.

And now everything is grey and the world is dull.

He doesn't know what to do anymore. He doesn't know where to go from here. It's just make it to tomorrow get through today live to see tomorrow it's not a life. It's nothing. It's an existence without a purpose. He's a presence with a ghost of a personality. Reality is heartbreaking when fantasy rips off the cloak.

"Awsie..."

He doesn't know what to do anymore.

He doesn't know how to help. He can't fix this. He'd rather die than sit here and watch her cry for another second. It's too heavy. It's a weight that slams down on his shoulders, like her prognosis has placed another thousand tons on his back and he's flailing under the unexpected attack. He doesn't know what to do he can't do anything he doesn't know what to do he can't do anything he doesn't know what to do he can't do anything-

He can't do anything-

"Whoa, Lil, don't touch that." He blinks back into focus just in time to catch Lily reaching for her cannula. He takes both her hands in his and brings his other hand around to cover them. "That's gotta stay in, alright love? I know it's annoying, but you need it."

"Hurts," she fusses. She's teary and frustrated; it's been a long day and it's about to be an even longer night. It's hard to sleep when you're in pain all the time and he knows it won't be letting up any soon. None of it will be letting up any soon. He has cancer and one of her kidneys is failing and there's nothing either of them can do about it.

These are their lives.

This is his life.

He'll live and die here, thrive and cry in the place that was never supposed to be home but now is. His cancer's back and one of her kidneys is failing and nothing ever goes right for him why the fuck does everyone get to tell me to have hope when everything is bad all the time why don't they realize that having hope makes it worse when things go bad why doesn't anyone get it why are they all so stupid-

It's too much. It's too much for him to handle, too much for any human being to handle. There's too much pain and too much heartbreak and too much loss it was getting better it was supposed to get better what the fuck happened how did he end up back here how did this become his life again-

He can't stay and he can't leave. They need him but he doesn't need the world anymore. It's hurt him too many times. He's given second, third, fourth, fifth chances and been disappointed by every single one of the answers.

He's not living but he can't die and the limbo is frying. He's rotting here. He's rotting inside. It's too much. It's all too much.

"Aws?"

He blinks a few times and looks up, then closes his eyes and shakes his head, tightens his arms around Lily and lets his head tilt back a bit.

It's not just Geoff.

Lily's doctor is standing behind him.

He can't do this again.

No more bad news.

Not one more thing.

He can't.

"Don't," he forces out. "Please, whatever it is, I don't wanna hear it. I can't take 'nymore of this, please."

"Aws-"

"Everything hurts," he says. "All the time. Everything is so bad and it's all so much and I can't do anything I can never do anything and I'm so fucking sick of feeling useless so please-" He pauses, clenches his teeth to keep the sob back in. "Nothing else. I can't do it."

"Awsten-"

"I can't," he insists. "Please."

"Sunshine, will you just shut up and listen?"

"Why don't you get it?" He snaps. "I don't wanna hear about how she needs more dialysis or that you moved my chemo up or someone else has something wrong with them. I don't wanna hear more about this damn hospital because I know I'm gonna be stuck here until the end of time. I don't wanna-"

Geoff takes a step forward. He's smiling. Briars is smiling. They're both smiling why are they smiling what the fuck- "Our sister hospital called ten minutes ago. They had an MVC. Brain dead on arrival. And-"

"You..."

"We have a donor."

...

Reality will break your heart.

Survival will not be the hardest part.

#waterparks #waterparks fanfiction #awsten knight #geoff wigington #gawsten #gawsten fanfiction #im #i can't believe it's over #im crying so hard #please be nice about this this has been my entire life for the past two months #neha writes #cancer fic

[redvsvblue]

Two Halves Of My Rainbow (3/?)

This got out of control. More of that Jerevinwood FBI agent soulmate AU. 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, AO3 

Ryan’s startled awake when a crash floods his headphones – it’s two days after his discovery and too much coffee and not enough sleep and god, he hasn’t fallen asleep at his desk since grade school, get your shit together, Haywood. The backseat of his car’s been treating him pretty decently, though, and his back doesn’t ache as much as he expected.

He wipes the drool from his mouth and hurriedly clicks over to the webcam screen again to see Gavin and Jeremy hastily opening drawers and bags and – and packing, it looks like, stuffing clothes into duffles and oh that’s definitely a gun.

“What about T?” Gavin asks.

“We’ll have to tell him later,” Jeremy says, panic high in his voice. “Fuck, fuck, we’re not gonna make it out of here, god - ”

“Hey, hey,” Gavin says sharply, pausing to grab Jeremy’s shoulders. “We’ll get out, okay? You know the plan, right?”

Jeremy nods and pulls Gavin in for a quick hug, their panting loud in Ryan’s ears.

“We fucked up, though, Gav, the cops – ”

“It happens, we made a mistake, let’s just bloody go,” Gavin replies, turning to continue packing.

Ryan’s fingers fly over the keyboard as he brings up Austin news – nothing. Jack shit nothing and he turns to the police database, slips in through the metaphorical backdoor in that technically-illegal way he’s not supposed to do, and through that and scraps of Gavin’s and Jeremy’s conversation, he figures out they’ve been caught. The police know their address, know their faces, there’s already a warrant in play and they are fucked unless they get out of there.

Which is what they’re doing.

Ryan’s torn between staying quiet like he’s technically supposed to and reporting this like he really really should, should storm into Kelly’s office right now – no, no, it’s ten p.m., most of the office is gone already, he remembers – should storm into Kelly’s house and call the Austin PD and give them all the information he has, including –

“Car’s got enough gas, right?”

“Should do.”

“Should?”

“It’s a thousand mile journey, Jeremy, I planned it as best I could!”

“Did you? Or did you fuck it up like last time - ”

“Oh shut up, Jeremy, you know that wasn’t my fault.”  

A pause.

“Shit. Shit. ‘M sorry, Gav, I didn’t mean it, I’m just – I’m sorry - ”

“It’s okay,” Gavin sighs. He sounds tired. “It’s okay, I understand, let’s just – let’s just go, okay?”

There’s a crack in his voice that makes Ryan’s heart ache.

“...how long’s the trip?”

“Just over a day if we take shifts.”

“Are we stopping on the way?” Jeremy asks. There’s a silence.

“We can rest once we’re in Los Santos,” Gavin says quietly. “I don’t want to chance it before - ”

“Okay. Okay, Gav, that’s fine, I just wanted to know.”

“...thanks.”

“I love you, yeah? I understand.”

Including the fact that Ryan knows they’re headed to Los Santos. To him. Fuck.

Ryan should definitely report this. Should compile the recording and write it up and email it to all his higher-ups. Make the necessary phone calls. Alert the PD to this. Get a tracker on Gavin and Jeremy, get tails on them. Find their trail and hunt them down. Arrest them. Or worse, if they resist.

And they would resist, that Ryan can safely guess. Jeremy’s not the type to go in silently, Gavin’s not the type to let Jeremy go in by himself.

Ryan tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to lose the newfound colour in his life if they – if they. If they don’t make it. He doesn’t want to go back to monochrome mornings and greyscale evenings.

That’s what he tells himself.

That’s his weak, weak excuse as he sits there. And watches. And does nothing. Pretends it’s because he wants to know when his tie matches his suit and when his phone’s flashing red.

The laptop is the last thing to get shut and packed away, and the last frame Ryan sees is of Jeremy’s panicked face.

Deleting the footage almost hurts.

-- 

The next 24 hours are the most nerve-wracking of Ryan’s life, tracking Jeremy’s invisible route to Los Santos and trying to figure out where they would be at any point after X hours of driving, after X number of possible rest stops, and he imagines them bickering about the radio and laughing about the other drivers.

He misses their voices.

It’s stupid, he knows, to miss the one-way voices of people he was merely assigned to watch, a permanent outsider to their bright, colourful lives, looking in on a vibrant fishbowl filled with all the shades of blueredpurplegreen that Ryan had been missing his whole life.

No one bothers him except for the worried glance Geoff casts his way.

Ryan just ducks his head and listens to the static.

-- 

Jeremy and Gavin are in Los Santos. They have to be, it’s been far more than a day, but when Ryan tracks the laptop again he find its coordinates in the Pacific Ocean.

So they’ve dumped the laptop. Unsurprising, really, but Ryan was holding onto a shred of hope that they wouldn’t.

Ryan’s damn near vibrating out of his skin where he is, just trapped at his desk and pretending he’s working when in reality he’s panicking. They’re here. They’re here and they’ll be another crime statistic added to the mile-long list and Ryan’ll probably be on the team to catch them if they’re bad enough – it’s been a while since Ryan’s been in the field, but he’ll still medically fit enough to be sent out.

Gavin and Jeremy are going to get themselves killed in Los Santos.

Ryan knows this with every fibre of his fucking being. It’s nothing like Austin, Los Santos. It’s skyscrapers and scenic sunsets and beaches and villas – and gritty alleyways and souped-up street races and cocaine deals in backstreet cafés and violent gang attacks in abandoned car parks. It’s nothing like the two-bit petty crime Gavin and Jeremy have been pulling in Austin.

Auto theft? Old news, barely even chased up anymore unless someone complains. Your fault for parking in the wrong spot.

Manslaughter? Just don’t piss off the wrong people.

And knowing Gavin and Jeremy, they’re going to piss off the wrong people.

Ryan doesn’t want to forget the colour of his eyes.

Ryan doesn’t want to unlearn the rainbow.

-- 

It feels strange, not driving to work at six-thirty on a Friday morning, feels stranger to still be in bed.

Not that Ryan’s slept much - overactive imagination, overthinking everything, but he pictures his empty desk and thinks determinedly that it’s going to stay empty.

He hasn’t formally resigned, but he’ll do something damn well close to it.

This time he kicks the covers off and doesn’t make the bed. Forgoes his boring array of suits and goes for the jeans and old T-shirt knocking around in the drawers, an old leather jacket an ex bought him. He frowns as he tugs at the shirt hem – he’s gotten softer around the middle in recent months, too much time at a desk and not enough in the field. Pushing those thoughts aside, he rakes a hand through his hair and looks at himself in the mirror. He’s imposing enough, he decides. And for once, the all-black isn’t from necessity, from not being able to match colours, it’s from choice.

It feels good. Freeing in a way that scares him a little.

Ryan tugs off the fake wedding ring and leaves it on the bedside table on his way out.

-- 

Ryan knows enough from being on the other side of the law to know the basics.  

1. Leave no evidence.

2. Leave no evidence.

He pays for the mask with unmarked bills, gets himself a new pair of leather gloves while he’s at it. Fits the mask over his head and the gloves on his hands and feel something settle inside him, a sense of relief that at least he’s not as easily recognisable now.

It’s still too early to go poking around – barely even dusk, and after he’s spent all day securing burner phones and quietly erasing himself from the FIB database, he figures he deserves to grab a meal first.

He’s never had lunch at the pier, he thinks. It sounds like a good memory to make.

-- 

After dark is when Ryan starts the real work.

He should probably feel worse for just up and quitting his good, steady job, but all he feels is glad. Free of the government, free of Kelly, that itch in his palms and on the back of his neck finally allowed to break into action, into the aggression he can use to get his way.

He knows who to go to.

Ryan damn near kicks the door in on Diaz’s shitty little office, lodged between a laundromat and a Chinese takeaway place, to find it completely empty. He growls and glances around – no sign of any unusual disturbance, just as shabby as it’s always looked, simply no sign of Diaz anywhere.

Well. Ryan didn’t come all this way for nothing. He backs into into a corner and brandishes his gun, ready for whenever Diaz does return.

-- 

Only half an hour later, the door creaks open, and the moment it shuts behind Diaz, Ryan’s on him, yanking his arms behind his back and pressing him face-first into the wall, nudging his pistol against Diaz’s ribs in a threat as he kicks his legs open unsteadily wide.

“Jesus,” Diaz breathes, his cheek smushed into the door. Ryan growls and clamps his fingers tighter around Diaz’s wrists, grinding the bones together.

“Don’t scream,” Ryan warns. Diaz’s breath hitches and his head turns ever-so-slightly and -

“Ryan?” He asks. Ryan’s heart kicks up in his chest and when he doesn’t answer, Diaz’s head twists more.

“How did you know?” Ryan asks, knows that’s just giving himself away, but he has to know. Diaz laughs pleasantly.

“Oh dude, I remember you!” He says. “Shit man, why you cornerin’ me like this?”

A surge of guilt rises in Ryan and he lets Diaz’s wrists slip out of his grip, stepping back with a sheepish apology.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, tucking the gun away again as Alfredo turns around, slumping against the door. “I – I didn’t know you’d remember me.”

Alfredo studies him for a moment and shrugs, patting him on the shoulder on his way to his desk.

“It’s okay,” he says easily, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms. He frowns at Ryan and Ryan shoves his hands into his jacket pockets to hide his nerves. Fuck, he should’ve gotten body armour.

“You look different,” Alfredo notes. He winks. “I like it. Leather suits you.”

Ryan scoffs and Alfredo laughs, cocking his head a touch as he studies Ryan.

“So, what brings you here, Agent Haywood?” He asks. “I know it wasn’t just for my fashion opinion.”

“I need help,” Ryan says.

“Start from the beginning.”

Ryan swallows and looks off to the side, at the small pile of rifles nestled in the corner of Alfredo’s office.

“There isn’t one,” he says. “I just need a jumpstart.”

“A jumpstart? For what?”

“Let’s just say I’m not on the right side of the law anymore,” Ryan says carefully. “That’s all you need to know.”

“You want a reputation.”

“I want another life.”

Alfredo gives him a once-over, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“I think I know where to start.”

#ragehappy #jerevinwood #fanfic #mine #soulmate AU #my other #rainbow

[whydidireadthis]

All-New Wolverine (#19-30)

One of my hugest pet peeves with superhero comics is “male character, but with tits”. I hate it. I’ve always hated it, and I’ll always hate it. The invention of X-23 in X-Men Evolution was a painfully awkward inclusion following that same creative approach, and I despised it; it was, like so many others, taking a character and creating a female clone -- literally -- so that insecure straight boys could feel less insecure lusting directly after the character.

It’s happened plenty of other times in comics, most notably when Rose Wilson, who had her own identity and powers, had all of her character annihilated so she could become Ravager, Deathstroke with Tits. This numbers as one of the worst characters ever massacred into that role. It’s insulting; Rose had something distinct going on, and then idiot Geoff Johns came along and decided that he needed an x, with tits character.

The thing is, this stunt always ends up being insulting for both the character being imitated and the character either created to fill the role or forced into it. It’s even more insulting when they’re already established as being someone and something else, but they’re required to redefine themselves anyway, especially when they’re expected to be accepted as a replacement for the character they’re obviously meant to out-appeal because they can be openly lusted after by the imagined primary demographic.

Sibling Clonery

So the long and short of it here is that I’m saying I am not a fan of X-23, or Laura as she’s come to be known. Going into this, my expectations were rock-bottom. But I love Daken, and I always considered him a far more subversive and interesting necessary examination of the character of Wolverine and everything around him: the machismo, the insecurity of writers overcompensating through Logan’s often comedically excessive libido and attitude, and of course the overselling of the character. Daken is openly bisexual (and actually leans more gay, more often), comfortable with his sexuality, uses his mind at least as much as, if not more than, his claws, and in general undermines all of the bullshit that’s been built around Logan.

He dressed up in Logan’s old costume design and masqueraded in his superheroic identity, and in so doing forced readers to examine what really made Wolverine. It forced scrutiny on the concept of the identity, and who was behind the mask and the name.

Daken is a complex character, but he’s also easy enough to understand and is often surprisingly sympathetic, or at least identifiable. Even when he’s doing awful things, it’s not really because he’s a consummately bad person or has no reason for doing what he does. I don’t think all of his writing is great or even good, and he’s been wildly inconsistent for periods over the years, but he seems to have finally found a place where he can find some blessed consistency and appreciation.

Aside from that garbage Iceman series that will be gone and not missed very soon, which seemed not to get the memo that Daken couldn’t be a villain running the Hellfire Club while at the same time being kidnapped by a group of Laura’s foes, but whatever. Like I said, that series is gone and soon to be forgotten, and it’s good riddance to bad rubbish.

We’re looking at the good Daken appearances recently, and they just so happen to be in All-New Wolverine.

Marjorie Liu did some solid work with Daken, even if I didn’t agree with her direction at all times, and the crossover between him and X-23 called “Collision” was an interesting look at the characters. Liu’s run on the X-23 series, which is really in many ways a precursor to All-New Wolverine, gave her a lot more to work with than the typical runaround she’d been given in most of the other titles. Before Liu got to do things with Laura and develop her as a person (and at the time, also developing Gambit in a way that treated him like a person and not the embarrassing caricature people have exaggerated from foggy memories of the 90s X-Men cartoon), she really wasn’t much more than Wolverine, but with tits. That was it. She couldn’t really outrun her stigma, because she was just another piece of window dressing from Logan’s titles.

But it’s important to note that Daken, too, really didn’t flourish until he got out from the shadow, out from Logan’s titles, and did something else.

Not Wolverines, because god knows that was hot garbage that turned into a dumpster fire, and I’m pretty sure nobody had any idea what the hell was going on by the end. It was about enough to make me throw my hands up and walk away again.

But writer Tom Taylor wisely just handwaves Wolverines and tosses Daken into the story “Immune” as a spectacular and dramatic appearance, and that makes all the difference. What went before is addressed, touched upon, and then moved past, and we see that Daken is also has developed as a person since the frankly lackluster, incoherent writing of Wolverines.

I found myself actually caring about Laura as a person, more and more, because while there is a kind of naiveté in Taylor’s writing, it’s the kind that makes you want to believe in it. It’s the way things really should be, and the way I’d like them to be, as someone who has read superhero comics for far longer than is probably wise.

Full of Character

The characters are engaging and enjoyable, and I like the fact that they also have humor in their interactions. I’ve said it many times before: without at least some humor, things are not only unpleasant, but also unrealistic and difficult to believe. Utterly humorless events only tempt resistance from an audience, and speaking plainly, it’s just silly to have a genre so steeped in action and the outrageous take itself too seriously.

All-New Wolverine, however, knows its audience. As seen here, there’s plenty of mixing it up and making things different from how they have been up to now, but there’s also a consistency that is comfortable. These aren’t the clunky female characters written clearly to pander, or to tempt people into arguments over genitalia or hormones or anything else. It probably happens, and I’m lucky not to have seen it, but the characters in All-New Wolverine have solid personalities and relate to each other like people. And nicely enough, even though there’s no such thing as black and white in Logan’s circles, the characters have redeeming qualities and make you want to like them.

And I’m not going to lie here, I think one of the best things about the title right now is the fact that “our” universe’s Logan is dead, dead, dead. The X-titles, Logan, and Charles Xavier all need a hard time out so that things can do a little soft resetting and they can slip back in and not be horrible, ruined characters impossible to like, as they are now. I think the “Death of Wolverine” thing they did around it was stupid and tacky, but I always think that of death events, and they should’ve learned this long ago: death is not an event, and killing off a character shouldn’t be made into one.

But that’s a conversation for another day.

All-New Wolverine’s “Immune” storyline places Laura at ground zero of a super-infectious alien disease and, through it, showcases really what defines the character under Taylor’s direction as a writer. It’s especially nice to see her show not a pandering sort of sensitivity, but instead emotion easy to identify with, which makes it easier to sympathize with her. It gives her more personality and character, as well as strength of character; her interactions with Daken and Gabby humanize her, which is something that has always been needed.

She spent too long coasting on nothing but the fact that she was Wolverine, but with tits. Even Liu’s stretch still relied at times on the fact that Laura wasn’t sure if she had a soul, which while engaging, is still a fairly done-to-death story. The clone who isn’t sure if she has a soul, the clone trying to determine her place in a world that also contains the person she was cloned from, the clone trying to figure out who she is when that person is suddenly gone -- they’re all potentially interesting starts, premises, beginnings, but they were most of the story for a long while. Too long.

Gabby is great, not to mention hilarious, and it really delighted me that they have a pet wolverine named Jonathan, who accompanies them on their adventures. Some might bristle at the thought of a team of Wolverine-themed characters having what amounts to a mascot, but it really makes them a lot easier to sympathize with, not to mention a lot more fun. A mascot, or even just a cute animal, is an appealing feature that, again, humanizes characters through their relations.

The especially nice thing is that, even though I came for Daken, I stayed for Daken’s interactions with Laura and Gabby. They form a great core to the team of similarly-themed characters, and there’s so much that is said between them that hasn’t been even mentioned before. It’s like nobody ever thought about half of the things Taylor does, with what he works into the dialogue. 

The title also isn’t afraid to show a bit of genre-awareness, but it knows moderation. This isn’t like the adventures of Deadpool or She-Hulk, which overtly show existential awareness and depend on (frequently absent) clever writing. All-New Wolverine is not a parody, but it can at times examine itself and shorthand that is rarely questioned and, by doing so, makes it easier to swallow.

It also doesn’t skimp on the Daken. And to be sure, Logan’s always been prone to nudity in his titles. There used to go hardly a month between seeing his hairy ass in something or other. So it’s nice to see it being used for something beautiful and even inspiring. I like the art a great deal, especially with the “Orphans of X” story, and what’s more, I respect them taking advantage of having Daken in the title to contribute a little heart-thumping eye candy.

But it’s not exploitation, it actually has a purpose and the art is really quite beautiful, like the sequence where he heals his arm back. It examines, in a way that only comics can, a zen meditative philosophy.

There’s unpleasant and violent stuff in All-New Wolverine, of course, but it’s not the tacky, gaudy, just plain nasty nonsense that seemed ubiquitous and overdone in the first decade of the 2000s. It has a purpose, and it has a role.

The Bad and the Good

It’s not all perfect, though. I will say that Taylor seriously needs to develop his pacing. Things take a long time to get moving, then reach a climax...and bunches of things happen between issues that would have been better dealt with at length instead of some of the things that were drawn out. He’s not the best at crafting a satisfying end to stories either, though it is important to note that his resolutions aren’t unsatisfying...they’re just not entirely satisfying either.

In “Hive”, which is basically the second leg of “Immune”, Laura goes into space with the Guardians of the Galaxy and fights the Brood. Things roll gradually in parts, then seem to pick up way too much speed. Events get a little confusing, and sometimes people seem not to say or do things because if they do, it will require the writer to develop those points. But in not doing them and not addressing some of them, it makes for a weaker story, with less impact.

I will totally admit, I laughed out loud at the resolution to “Hive”. It was the funniest thing I’d seen in a long time, and I’m probably a horrible person for that. It did actually give a fairly fulfilling ending, but it also failed to deal with several of the other issues brought up by the proceedings. The question was just never as simple as it’s often regarded by the story and its participating characters, and sometimes the unaddressed issues are the most glaring and most obvious when you’re reading it.

“Orphans of X” is exciting, thrilling, entertaining, and develops the characters significantly, every one of them. But it also has tacky turns and, in its extremely naive finale, seems to ignore the serious problems that it presented repeatedly before getting there. It’s too facile a resolution, and it’s one that is impossible to really accept; it can only be a temporary solution, because these people are not trustworthy or reliable, and they can’t be depended on. It makes Laura look a bit stupid for it, and it also damages the credibility of the proceedings somewhat.

But if you think about it in less of a “compare to real life” way and more of a “think of how superheroes are supposed to be” one, it’s a lot more agreeable. Honestly, it’s how things should go. People should be able to come together and make sense to each other. People who have been victimized by others should be able to unite against those others and be stronger for the experience, instead of fighting amongst themselves. Superheroes are supposed to inspire others to greatness; they are supposed to inspire bravery and courage, dignity and integrity, and all the majestic things that they show overtly, which we all must try to metaphorically exercise in things like strength of character and personal integrity, mercy, kindness, empathy, and a refusal to give up even when the odds are against us.

From Vat to Very Fond

So for the time being, I’ll just accept it that way. It’s not a perfect story, and neither is “Immune”/”Hive”, but they’re entertaining, the characters involved most all benefit from and are enriched by their inclusion, and I genuinely liked the comics. I enjoyed reading them.

I liked Laura. I’ve started to find her genuinely engaging and interesting as a character, for the first time since she came into being. Do I think she’s good to carry a title by herself? No! Not at all. But that’s also not the point of who she is. She’s not supposed to be alone. She functions better in a family, and the family dynamic is what makes her so much more interesting.

She’s fascinating in how she interacts with the others she is so close to, like Gabby and Daken. They all enrich each other, and they grow as characters in this mutually beneficial relationship.

I feel the same way about Batman, for example. There are plenty of characters who just aren’t really that compelling or interesting when they’re alone, or they’re fundamentally not likable. Batman needs a Bat-family, because he’s dull as a beige room when he doesn’t have anyone to interact with but his enemies.

Laura needs a Wolverine-family.

With Jonathan too, because he’s just too wonderful to leave out.

Many, even most, characters should not be in a title totally alone. There are remarkably few characters who can really carry a story solo, and a lot of those stories are just not interesting. Logan is one of those characters who has never been that interesting, but he’s been an extension of so much straight boy insecurity that he’s become indispensable to Marvel. In a similar manner, Batman has become so overblown and oversold that it’s a miracle when, in stories like The Hiketeia, he actually is dealt with realistically.

We do need an escape, and we need characters we can identify with, even vicariously live through. I’m not going to deny insecure people their escapes.

But I think the time has come, and I think it’s shown in the quality of the writing, the solidness of the art, and the sheer enjoyability of the whole product, that All-New Wolverine has at least a promising start of maybe bringing us something new and better in superheroes. It’s not perfect, but it’s the first title I’ve read in years that made me want to follow it and had me waiting eagerly, not dreading, the next issue.

I sincerely hope that Taylor can keep up his quality. He’s made me care about a character I despised for years and then felt neutral about for years more. He writes Daken beautifully and makes me fall in love with the character all over again. And of course, Gabby is a wonderful character rather than the annoying young character she could be, and Jonathan the wolverine is delightful.

In the words of RuPaul, Tom, don’t fuck this up!

Because you’ve made this jaded comic fan, who once upon a time was completely done with superhero comics, believe that good things are possible again. And you did it with the Wolverine title and X-23...two things that were among my least favorite in the world.

It’s worth checking out All-New Wolverine. Now if we can only have that kind of excellence in the X-titles so that people will actually give a fuck about the X-Men again, instead of being embarrassed they exist in the same universe at the moment.

But baby steps. Baby steps.

#all-new wolverine #writing critique #daken #x-23 #comic review

[tigerinthestars]

What Can Go Wrong Part II

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple heist spirals out of control. Everything seems to be going from bad to worse. What was Murphy's Law again?

Also, the one where Jeremy saves you from certain death.

Pairing: FAHC!Jeremy x FAHC!Reader

Words: 1,804

Warnings: Language and violence.

A/N: I changed my mind, I’m posting Part 2 today and the final part tomorrow just ‘cause. Enjoy!

Part 2 to this train wreck. Things get worse.

Sorrynotsorry.

Y/C/N = Your Criminal Name (or nick name… whatever)

Read it on AO3!

Part I ~ Part III

You awoke to the sensation of being dragged. Your eyes blinked sluggishly in the bright light. Your ears rang something terrible. As the world slowly became clearer, you recognized voices and gunfire and your eyes fell on the sight of the burning husk of a car. Your mind took its time playing catch up before your name being repeated registered in your head.

“Y/N? Y/N! You gotta wake up, babe. No sleeping on the job.”

You knew that voice. You groaned at the pounding in your head that flared up at that moment. Jeremy. Your head swam as you attempted to concentrate on the world around you.

“Yeah, there you are.” The dragging sensation stopped, and a person entered your field of vision.

“Where’re your sunglasses? You look funny.” You slurred at him with squinty eyes, gesturing with a single finger in his direction which lazily circled in the air in front of his face.

Jeremy laughed from behind a bandanna, “I don’t think that’s what you need to be worried about right now.” He took a pause to look around, noting the increase of cops closing in on your position. “We gotta keep moving. Can you stand?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, “I better be able to ‘cause I sure as hell am not gonna be carried by any of y’all.”

“Alright, fair enough. Up you go!” Jeremy hooked his hands under your arms and lifted you up slowly, grunting with effort, and you helped as best you could getting your legs underneath you.

“There we are. You good?” Jeremy gave you a once over, noting how unsteady you were on your feet.

“Yeah, just give me a sec,” you huffed, using Jeremy’s shoulder to steady yourself.

“We don’t have a sec,” Ryan shouted over his shoulder, “We need to move. Now.” An explosion rocked the ground as a helicopter came crashing down not far behind you, accentuating Ryan’s point.

“In what?” You yelled back. “There’s nowhere to run!”

“Gavin’s getting a car, move up so we’re ready to bolt as soon as he gets here.”

“Fucking hell, this all went to shit, huh?” You said to Jeremy as he helped you walk towards Ryan.

“You can say that again.” Jeremy replied, nudging you this way and that to keep you from tripping over debris, the sound of crunching glass accompanied every step.

“I’ve been saying it all damn day.”

The firefight Ryan was engaged in was slowly growing as more and more police cars pulled up, trying to corner your group. Jeremy took up post next to him, providing extra cover fire.

You leaned yourself on the railing a couple feet away. You rubbed at your temples as the sound of another helicopter registered in your foggy head. When you looked for it, you noticed it was a news chopper, not a police copper. You scrunched up your nose and gave them the finger, sticking your tongue out for good measure. Hope that looks good on TV.

You then turned back to the immediate threat, realizing then that your gun was no longer in your hand. It must have fallen from your hand when the car flipped. No way you’re looking for it now.

“I don’t have a gun.” You announced, hoping at least one of them had an extra.

“We don’t have anymore. Just stay low and try not to get shot.” Jeremy answered over his shoulder.

“Right, I can do that,” you mumbled to yourself, hunkering down where you were for the time being. Hopefully Gav won’t be long, the asphalt and barrier aren’t exactly comfortable, and your head still hurt. You probably have a concussion, you thought bitterly to yourself. Just the cherry on top of this very shitty sundae. It’s not even fucking Sunday so you can make that joke, dammit!

As you sat mopping to yourself, the shootout went on while Gavin searched for a car. A minute passes, which feels like an eternity on this god forsaken freeway, and you begin to hear activity behind you. At least, you think you do. Leaning up to peak behind the barrier you were kneeling against gave you full view of the large median between you and an on ramp. That median was now flooded with police closing in on your position, closing in really fucking fast. You felt your stomach drop at the sight, the scene reminding you a bit of the Walking Dead or some shit like that.

“Cops on our six!” You yelled, “Closing in fast!”

Immediately, Jeremy and Ryan whirled around, quickly taking in their new predicament. You were already getting your feet under you, so you were ready to run at a moment’s notice. The two men by your side began firing into the new group of cops as well, but the ones that had creeped up on your rear were much too close. You found yourself trying to calm yourself once again as you felt your heart and breathing rate increase under the new stress.

“Y/N! Watch out!” Jeremy suddenly called out.

Your eyes flew open, you don’t even remember closing them, finding Jeremy easily before tracking left in the direction he was aiming where you saw the reason for the alarm. Cops were creeping around the barrier, which ended a few feet from where you were crouched. From that position they could clearly see and shoot you without anything getting in the way. You need to move. Now.

You pushed off the ground, trying to make a run for new cover, but they were already shooting at you. You knew there was no way you would escape this without at least a bullet wound or two. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of purple take up half your vision. Jeremy had darted towards you, a hand pushing you forward knocked you off balance and you landed rather gracelessly on the pavement. When you looked back up, a witty remark on the tip of your tongue, but you no longer saw Jeremy standing behind you. Instead you say his body lurch as a bullet ripped straight through his torso and he fell in slow motion, his hat toppled from his head and the bandanna he tied around his face fell awkwardly as he hit the ground hard.

You felt the blood drain from your face, you felt your heart stop, you felt your mind freeze. Everything around you were frozen in time. You're eyes stung as you refused to close them as the shock at what you saw rolled over you. 

No.

"Shit, Rimmy!" Ryan yelled from behind you, but you couldn't even bring yourself to look in his direction, let alone speak to him.

Jeremy's been shot. He took a bullet for you. You'd always joked about this sort of thing happening but never had it actually happen before. Your chest hurt, you couldn't breathe, and you felt a familiar lump form in your throat. 

Why?

Gavin pulled up in a new car, bullet holes already riddled the car and blood was drying on the bumper. He stepped out immediately and began providing cover fire, "We need to get out of here!"

It was then that Ryan stepped in front of you, making his way towards Jeremy. You noticed that the gunfire had significantly lessened. Courtesy of Ryan, you figured. You couldn't bring yourself to move an inch, the horror of what you witnessed still hadn't fully registered in your brain. Was it fatal? Is he dead? Why isn't Ryan saying anything? What's going on? 

Please, no!

"Jer?"  You whispered to no one. Tears began trail down your face and your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. When Ryan began lifting Jeremy's lifeless body in his arms, a sob was torn from your throat.

"We need to go!" Gavin was next to you now, his hand wrapped around your upper arm. You used his grip as leverage to stand but immediately shook his grip off. You walked away from him, hearing his protests, and leaned down to pick up the cowboy hat that had fallen forgotten on the pavement. Then you turned to follow the Golden Boy silently to the car, barely able to make out the blurred shapes with all the tears falling from your eyes.

You numbly made your way to the passenger seat, Ryan placed Jeremy in the back and sat with him. Probably trying to stop the bleeding. No one spoke as Gavin began to make for a retreat.

It was in that moment you noticed a black SUV pulled up alongside you, a familiar black SUV. It belonged to the Fakes. The windows rolled down revealing members of B Team. No wonder the police had backed off, your back up had arrived. Another black SUV pulled up along the other side of your getaway vehicle, you didn't have to look to know that there was a third trailing behind you. B Team formed became an escort to guide Gavin and the rest of you back to the pent house quickly and safely to get Jeremy the help he needed as soon as possible.

Gavin drove as quickly as possible back to base, his shoulders drawn tense and his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The drive passed in shocked silence with only your choked sobs to break it as you tried your best to hold your distress inside. In your hands was Jeremy's hat, your grip on the brim was almost painful. You couldn't bring yourself to look behind you, to look at Jeremy or Ryan as he did his best to keep Jeremy alive. You couldn’t ask if he was already gone or if he was doing okay. You just couldn't.

Your car was guided below the building, into the garage under the pent house. There were a group of people stood waiting for you at the end of the garage by the elevator and the door to the infirmary. You saw a stretcher and your crew doctors, Caleb and Kdin, with their team of nurses next to them. You also saw Geoff, Jack, and Michael. It brought you some relief to know that they made it out alright, only minor cuts and bruises and soot proving they ever left this pent house in the first place.

As soon as the car stopped, the back-seat door was opened, and Ryan was stepping out to help them get Jeremy on the stretcher, Gavin had already made it to the other side of the car. You didn't even acknowledge the commotion around you. You just lowered your head to the hat in your hands. You no longer had the strength to fight your tears, your strength dissipated by the sight of home.

#achievement hunter fanfiction #jeremy dooley x reader #jeremy dooley imagine #fahc #fake ah crew #reader insert #part 2 of 3 #complete #fahc jeremy