We Dance And Twirl Like The Tail Of A Comet 💫

literally three minutes into this new fucking chapter and they’re already taking away an actual CHOICE about whether or not MC wants to have a baby. This is total bullshit.

AHEM.

Don’t do something we’re both going to regret.

Author’s Note: This chapter was getting HEFTY HEFTY HEFTY, just like the trash bags. So instead of making you wait a million years and then making you read a million words, we’re splittin that bad boy. Now, JUST KIDS comes out sooner and technically, there is more of it. Win win I hope!

Pairing: Drake Walker x Joanna Malone

Word Count: 2,200

Disclaimer: Drake Walker and his band of merry men belong to Pixelberry. I just write about their adventures in between chasing kids and washing dishes. lol that makes me sound like a mom. weird.

this is so freaking hard for me to read. They are both just ACHING and trying to be patient, trying to be supportive of the other’s choices, and as much as they both are extremely independent people, their whole lives are turned upside down in the other’s absence. Those messages at the beginning broke my heart into tiny little pieces. The messages at the end ground those pieces to dust. The little story about Joanna and gma...forget it. cried my silly little eyes out. Both of them having to explain to someone who doesn’t /cannot understand that “love is patient” UGH. 

Savannah [Walker] Beaumont grows up to be one of those blogger moms. Band of Beaumonts has quite a faithful following and Maxwell has been known to contribute weird little stories from time to time. Bertrand at first was very against the private occurrences in his family home being used to entertain “internet-people” but gifts and sponsored posts and the overwhelmingly supportive community his young wife found has changed his tune. As long as he’s kept out of it, he no longer cares. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, so please don’t tell Bertrand that there is an entire section of the blog dedicated to “Normalcy and Nobility: tales from the Duke and Duchess of Ramsfors.” It’s literally all funny anecdotes about Bertrand and he would hate it. Aside from marital stories, Savannah posts about her children, current events in Ramsfors, and her own version of Julie and Julia as she tries to expand her cooking abilities beyond the few dishes she picked up as a young, single mom in Paris.

Joanna Walker hates the blog, with a passion, like maybe too much. She thinks that it’s dumb and as someone who receives so much of Savannah’s unsolicited advice already, she cannot fathom why hundreds of people read her words everyday completely willingly. Does. Not. Compute. But everytime the girls get together, Savannah references the blog at least once, asking her “favorite sister” if Joanna has read the latest post or seen what Bartie, the Twins, and little Norah have been up to. So right before going to hang out with Savannah, Joanna rage reads her sister in law’s blog posts. This is an exhausting process for both her and Drake, who has learned to drop whatever he’s working on when his wife is ready as he will be interrupted every two minutes anyways with another exclamation of “LISTEN TO WHAT SHE WROTE.” Drake reminds Joanna often that she does not actually have to read the posts, but that ridiculous suggestion is usually countered with “it’s what sisters do…apparently.”

I can hear the mundane rates G cliches that she posts in now. Does she include “Have a whole Estate Staff on hand to help raise said children” in her blog? Cause I feel like that’s an important part of her strategy.

Joanna “rage reading” is the best mental image, repeating nearly all of it back to Drake in utter disbelief that she’d written something so dumb/shallow/tame/judgemental.

🎶 Just your average ordinary everyday superhero🎶

Rafael Aveiro

—

LoL can I just say there are some reaaaaaaaally odd results that appear when you do a gif search for “chicken legs” 😂 Hope your Friday is a great one as well (we made it to the weekend!)

A/N: Well. It’s not a secret that I don’t very much like Kaneko. After he used Logan as a placeholder for Colt and then admitted that he didn’t care what happened to Logan, I honestly was so ready for that explosive collision on that bridge. But! Even I in my infinite hate for the man, think that he is just a product of his decisions and the things he couldn’t change. So, with the help of the Airborne Toxic Event’s California, (give it a listen- it’s perfect.) this happened. AND ITS ACTUALLY A ONE SHOT.

Pairing: Teppei Kaneko x Layla (OC)

Word Count: 1,704

Warning: character death

The adrenaline from the previous night’s job was still coursing through his veins, but the real reason for the light and carefree way Teppei Kaneko was feeling was sitting in the passenger seat. Layla. He glanced sidelong at her as the warm summer breeze came off the water and in through the open windows as they drove up the coast, picking up her long dark hair, making it dance across her face. His smile widened and his chest flooded with warmth as she giggled at the way it tickled her bare shoulders, and she twisted it around her fingers, wrapping it up and tying it in a knot at the nape of her neck. She reached forward and turned the knob on the stereo to increase the volume, winking at him as she did. It was her favorite song- a little too romantic for Teppei’s taste, but he’d never deny her the chance to listen to it. She sang along with the words, her voice clear and bright, ringing through the air like a bell. She’d close her eyes and scrunch her face up with emotion at certain lyrics, and it would hit him hard, right in the heart, whenever she did. She swayed and moved her shoulders as the song’s rhythm changed, and seeing her feel the music was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever set his 20 year old eyes on.

He’d met her about a month before, stalled on the side of the road, sitting on the hood of a silver Mercedes Benz with her knees pulled to her chest and tears streaking her perfectly tanned cheeks. Cars were zooming past her as though the drivers didn’t see her. But she was all he could see, and even if he wanted to it, he couldn’t just drive on. Something seemed to call him to her, something strong and irreversible. He’d flashed her his best “how can I help you?” smile, the one he used with the customers at his father’s shop- the legitimate customers, anyway- and she looked at him with such helplessness that it broke his heart. She explained that she had borrowed her father’s car, taken it for a joy ride after a bad day, but had stalled out far from home. She didn’t have to go into detail for him to know that her father wasn’t entirely privy to her little excursion; or that she didn’t seem to have the best relationship with the man. He assured her that he’d have her up and running again before her father ever noticed that she was gone, and she’d assured him that her father would notice the car’s absence before her own, but she thanked him and wiped at her tears. When he finished, he offered to take her out for a milkshake, and from that soda shop rendezvous, an unlikely relationship began between the Doctor’s daughter and the Crime Boss’ son.

Once a week milkshakes had turned into almost daily meetups, Teppei completing his father’s tasks at double speed just to get as much time with Layla as he possibly could. He’d become enslaved to the way she made him feel, but every time her thin arms came around his shoulders, or her bubblegum lips rested against his, or her hair fell against his face like fathers, he was the most willing prisoner in all of Los Angeles. He wondered if she felt trapped by him like he did by her; wondered if she would second guess her judgement for throwing her lot in with him and the crew as quickly and as wholly as she had. Glancing over at her in the fading orange glow of late afternoon, the light playing with the colorful beaded necklace she wore, her fingers dangling out the window, the knot she’d tied in her hair falling out like it always did to spill back over her shoulders, he was suddenly overcome with the need to memorize her every movement, her every freckle and every strand of her hair. Suddenly he was hit with the feeling that this could never last. Nothing gold can stay, that’s what he’d always heard. She caught him looking and he softened his features, melted by her eyes. Nothing gold can stay, but he’d hold on like hell for as long as he could.

That night they’d joined the crew at the beach, their cars all circled together in the parking lot, someone’s stereo blasting music, a case of beer in a cooler. He could remember the floral pattern of Layla’s dress and the way the soft material felt bunched up in his hands as he kissed her. He could remember her face lighting up as she raised her voice to be heard over the blare of the speakers, but he’d forgotten what she’d said. He could remember the way her body felt pressed to his, but couldn’t remember the song that they danced to. It was the sort of night that he’d spend years wondering if it really happened, or if it was just a dream; just the ethereal remnants of her memory, gliding through his mind like she had done through his life.

Despite knowing that it was destined for disaster from the get go, a full year later they were twined even more indelibly together, as the word “love” flowed freely from their lips across the console of her father’s car- borrowed for another excursion, though Teppei had taught her how to properly drive a stick shift, so there was no fear of stalling this time. They’d been discussing their future- something that he hadn’t given much thought to before meeting her. Until meeting Layla, Kaneko’s future consisted of one thing and one thing only: taking over the Mercy Park Crew from his father, when it was time. He’d been clear with Layla about it since day one, and from that time she’d assured him that she was on board, all in, ready to cast her die. She’d even started driving on some jobs for the crew. At first Teppei hated that- hated that she was putting herself in danger, that she was putting herself on the line. But one look at the fire in her eyes told him that she’d made her decision and nothing that he said could change it. He realized then that he’d never had a choice; not when it came to Layla.

When they found out that she was pregnant, he told her that he didn’t want her driving anymore- didn’t want her involved with the crew anymore, wanted to keep her safe. He thought he’d be met with pushback, thought she’d light that fire in her eyes and burn him into submission again. But to his immense surprise, he was met with desperation in her eyes, not flames, as finally she grasped what he’d been telling her all along: that nothing gold can stay- that he wasn’t Midas, but even if he was, a golden touch did nothing but smother, shining as it killed whatever it came in contact with.

“Leave with me, Teppei. Leave. With me, with our son,” she pleaded. He hated himself, but he avoided her eyes as she asked, knowing that it would only hurt all the more if he didn’t.

“Layla,” he breathed her name, but she knew that it was a lost cause before he spoke another word; the devastation in his eyes clear and achingly present.

“There are only two ways out, Teppei,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his ear, tears streaking down her cheeks just like the day they’d met. “You either walk away…or you let this life bury you.”

“Layla, please,” his voice was strained, his soul wounded.

“Was it ever real, Teppei? Was any of it real?” She sobbed as his arms wound tightly around her, nearly crushing her small body into his. “Was it just a story?”

“It was real. All of it, Layla.” He was filled with an ache he’d never known as he realized that his heart now resided outside of his body. “Our story was real. Our love…it was all real, Layla. It is real. Make sure he knows. Make sure you tell him.” Tears fell from his own eyes as he chastised himself for falling in love in the first place.

Layla had made arrangements to go stay with her mother, and the day she left California was the last time Teppei Kaneko ever laid eyes on her. She died in childbirth, giving him a son he’d only see a few times a year, but who bore his mother’s fiery eyes. He recalled the first time he’d held the tiny bundle, whispering his son’s name over and over like a promise- I’ll tell him, Layla. Someday, I’ll tell him all about us, about dancing on the beach and the lights on the freeway and the dust we became. Someday I’ll tell him everything.

. . . . . . .

Almost 20 years to the day that he’d silently promised Layla that he’d tell Colt everything, he pressed the pedal down hard, threatening to press it right through the floor as he careened toward the police barricade. He knew that Colt was yelling into his earpiece, knew that the whole crew was trying to get him to stop, but he couldn’t hear them. A song had come over the radio, the first few bars reaching down into the void where his heart used to reside, and all at once she was back, sitting there in the passenger seat, her hair blowing in the breeze, that giggle bubbling from her lips. Layla. He didn’t hear a single lyric, couldn’t remember the words, but the rush of everything he’d ever felt for Colt’s mother filled that void and he knew that for once in his life, even if it was the last thing he’d do, he was making the right decision for his son- he was giving him a chance, a future. He activated the nitrous and the blinding explosion consumed the road and cut through the barricade. He felt no pain, no fire, no burn. All he felt, as he took his last breath just before the collision, were her fingers in his, resting on the console.

How could you not wonder about Colt’s mom, right? He’s got to get that fire from somewhere. I see Colt as someone who is overly packed with emotion and passion and I just feel like he got that from his mama. 

Teppei and Layla had that love that lasts a lifetime and longer, and she was there for him, always, in his heart. 

In case you needed to hear it today, or any other day - I’m weird. You’re weird. You’re also awesome. We’re friends now. 

Sent by anonymous

‘Drake and Maxwell’s friendship really reminds me of Shrek and Donkey’s friendship’