V

smoll ghost who likes to write with fandoms and OCs living rent-free in her brain.

[venus-aster]

Everytime Neil or Andrew sits to write something, King or Sir (depends of the day and mood of the cats) lays on the desk. In front of the notebook or laptop. Just for the pleasure of being there.

Neither of them dares to move the cat because they (the cats) are antisocial (like their owners) and ask rarely for affection.

[venus-aster]

Jeremy Knox is the kind of person who cuts his own hair with kitchen scissors at 3:00 am because he had a really bad day, has to sleep at the Wilshire house, is depressed and just has saw a tutorial "how to do your wolf cut on your own" on the Internet.

[vatbis]

In my opinion, the first time Andrew truly trusted Neil was when he gave him his knives (let Neil take it to be exact) and left himself fully unarmed around him. In all the other times we can see Andrew's trust in Neil before that, Andrew still had control on situation. For many years cuts and the weight of the knives on his armbands were something that let him keep it. Giving Neil his knives meant giving him all of Andrew's control which he was always so afraid to lose but didn't hesitate to hand it over to Neil because he knew he wouldn't take advantage of it. I love them

[tswizzlesfan]

happy pride month to mr. be gay do crime and mr. be crime do gay 🌈

(ft andreil by @dshr-art aka actual perfection)

[venus-aster]

Abram is alone. It's been weeks since Mary passed away. Or maybe months. It's hard for him to tell. In the dead of the night, he's alone in the middle of the Columbian streets.

He just want to take a break. Forget himself and stop running for a second. He want to take a breath.

For that, he does the stupidest thing of his life. His mother would probably beat him for that if she wasn't in a sand grave in california.

Abram takes a deep breath, reminding himself he's only staying one night in Columbia. Just one night. He's safe. It's fine. He is fine. So he slowly push Eden's Twilight's door

The lights are strong, the music too loud and the place is crowded, but gosh, he feels so alive.

Abram makes a quick check of the exits. 4 of them. He's safe. Even without the gun. Gosh, he misses the gun sometimes. But it doesn't matter. The club is a new world for him. A world full of everything he never had. Music, joy, lust and love.

Abram wasn't sure if he likes it or not. Maybe he's just need a drink. Yes. Just one.

He navigate between the dancing people without being seen. He's like a ghost. He smiles. He likes that.

He leans back against the counter, next to a blond boy. "Can I have a soda, please?" The bartender, who was smiling at the blond boy, hands him a glass of Coke without even glancing at him. Abram takes a sip, pays his drink and leaves to find a cool spot, his coke in hand.

He finds a table with no one except too many empty glass shoots. He takes place and drinks, listening to a music he will never heard ever again.

he feels a bit strange. Maybe it's the heat ? Yeah. Sure is that. He tries not to think to much. He's okay.

Suddenly, a guy takes the spot next to him. The Stranger seems to have around his age. Maybe 2 or 3 years older. His hair, brown curls, falls nicely around him. "Hello cutie. It's not a good idea to a sweetheart like you to be here alone." Abram barely catches what the boy said but it was enough to understand that he was wasted. "You're drunk." And the boy smiles. "Maybe. Wanna dance ?" Abram takes a sip, his throat suddenly dry. "I don't dance.

- oooh ! Come on, cutie ! Just one small little dance won't kill you, yes ?

- I-"

'I don't know how to.' Was what Abram want to say. It's the truth. He had never learn. But he doesn't want this truth. Not now. He wants something else. "Okay." The boy seems surprised during a second before a brillant smile appears on his face. "Wonderful ! Come on !" The boy takes Abram's hand and they disappear in the ocean of people.

The boy was funny. He was smiling and maybe a bit flirty but he was a good teacher. At least, until his smile drops. "You okay ?" Abram doesn't understand the sudden mood swing until he sees the boys face.

He's sick.

Shit-

Abram takes the boys hand and runs to the closest exit (because he doesn't freaking know where the toilet is.). He push the door and soon after, the boy throw up against the wall.

Abram places his hand on the boy's back and draws circles in try to help. "shit- (the boy laughs) gosh i'm so sorry.-

- it's okay. You didn't vomit on me, so i don't mind." The boy gives him a small smile before throwing up again. Abram hears the exit door open. He raises his head and sees the blond boy from the counter.

"What are you doing here ?" Abram doesn't know what to say. It's obvious. Luckily, his dance partner answers for him. "It's okay, Drew. He did nothing wrong. It's kinda the opposite to be honest. If it wasn't him, I would have thrown up on the dancefloor." The blond boy- Drew - looks at Abram with a blank face. Abram loses interest in him and focus again on the boy. "I can go pick you some water if you want.

- aww you're so nice ! It's okay. You don't have to worry about me anymore. My cousin will take good care of me. Right, Drew ?"

Drew doesn't respond, his stare still looking for something in Abram that he will never find. At this moment, the exit door opens again and this time, it's the bartender. "Nicky ! For gods sakes! Why do you always end up wasted during your fucking break ?!

- shut up Roland." Drew's voice was sharp as a blade. Roland doesn't say anything else and Abram realise that Nicky neither.

Drew looks at Roland with a bored expression. "Take him inside.

- why me ?

- because i'm busy." Drew looks at him again. Abram is supposed to feel the danger, but he's tired. He decides to not care.

Roland doesn't complain even further and comes next to Abram to take Nicky inside. "Thanks for the dance,cutie, and for the help. See you soon." And Nicky enters the club, Roland with him.

Abram is alone with Drew.

After a moment of silence, Abram decided that he's too tired for this shit. He turns his back at drew and walks down the alley. Until he hears footsteps behind him. Drew is following him. "What do you want."

Drew doesn't respond and Abram started to freaking out but tries to remain calm. "Why did you help him ?" Abram laughs, incredulous. He is serious ?

"Because he needed it ?

- what would have you do if he had passed out ?" Abram wasn't sure. He hadn't thought about that.

" I don't know." It's the truth. He doesn't know. "I think I would have just wait for someone to come smoke." Abram knows what answer people want in this kind of situation. Call the 911. But Abram doesn't want to lie tonight.

Drew looks at him, and finally. "You've drink alcohol.

- no I-

- Yes you have. When you have order, Roland gave you the wrong drink. It was a vodka-cola.

- how do you know ?" Drew remains silent for a second. "it was my brother's order."

And Abram realises. Of course it was fucking vodka. Coke doesn't taste like that. His poor mother has good reasons to roll in her sand grave right now.

"I will walk you home.

- what-

- you are drunk. Alone. In the dead of night. In Columbia. I'm walking you home."

In other circumstances, Abram would fight back. But he is tired, tipsy (?) and with too little patience to go against him. "Whatever."

Abram startes walking again, Drew next to him.

They walk in silence until they reach Abram's motel for the night. "It's here." He looks at Drew who remains silent. "Thank you for the walk." Abram pull the motel card out of his sweatshirt and starts opening the door.

"What's your name ?" Abram turns back to stare at Drew who hasn't moved.

He can lie. He can just not answer. But Abram was tired. And tonight. Just tonight. He tells the truth. "Abram."

Drew nods and, without a word, turns around, and leaves.

Abram watches him leave. Before entering his room, he looks at the black sky.

In the dead of night, strange things happen.

----

Fic inspiration: Dead of night - Ruelle

[knox11]

Sometimes I think about the possibility of Jean completely panicking in tbc if Jeremy gets hurt. The wide eyes, the shaking hands gripping Jeremy, the uneven breathing, the desperate "not you, please not you, only me, only me" because when it comes to pain and death, Jean thinks it should always be him.

[venus-aster]

There's only one timeline where Jean Moreau is alive. The one that we are currently reading.

Which means there's a timeline where Neil Josten died in baltimore and Jean Moreau died in the nest, they both leaving behind 2 blond men with brown eyes.

One who will never know that the love of his live died miles away from him.

And one whose the last word from his dead loved one is "Thank You, You were amazing.".

[nixkxart]

apologies in advance—

[ivyinne]

neil josten, man with the butcher of baltimore for a father, somehow manages to have mommy issues dominating every crevice of his brain instead. "god my mom would KILL me if she knew my dad found out where i was" like dude

[pepeshka]

sooo smoochable

[hamrikaa]

[verdiris]

A small wip of my favourite French man 🫡

Low key you can blame my aunt for this art as she bought me Jean themed perfume for my birthday and it inspired me to work on this piece again for the first time since october 😂

Ft Jeremy's thoughts on walking in on jean cooking-

[northorsoutheastorwest]

Neil really saw the twinyards and said “I want the more neurotic one”

[3lectracuted]

the concept of Andrew having an episode and being able to tell its neil through the panicked haze by Neils scars

and then and only then does neil learn to appreciate them, because they separate him from the horrors of his love's past.

[venus-aster]

Jeremy dreams about a boy every night since he's a teenager. A boy with black hair, grey-blue eyes and a sad face. Everytime he dreams about him, he sings him a song and the boy falls asleep in his arms. And Jeremy wakes up. The boy is a dream. He supposed to be a dream. So why is Jean Moreau the carbon copie of his dream boy ?

--

Jean-Yves Moreau was twelve when he made a stupid wish to a shooting star. He just wanted to make Elodie smile. But Jean was selfish sometimes. So, when he closed his eyes, the only wish that came was for himself.

Je ne veux plus être seul

I don't want to be alone anymore.

Jean wasn't alone. He'd Elodie. But he'd wished for that anyway.

The next night, a boy who looked like the sun appeared in Jean's Dreams. He was soft, calm and lovely. It was, for Jean, the closest he could think of an angel. The boy held him like he was precious and sang to him a song. A lullaby. Until he fell asleep.

The dream boy never left his dreams, even when Jean's life became a living nightmare.

Dreams were Jean's only confort, until he met Jeremy Knox.

The exact portrait of the angel of his dreams.

Inspiration of the fic idea: Carry you - Ruelle ft. Fleurie

[juicegremlin]

andrew minyard never skips therapy. his best friend is a born-again knife-wielding christian ex-gangster. his other best friend is a 6'2" lacrossehockey prodigy/recovering alcoholic with a face tattoo. he doesn't smile. his situationship got him to stop doing drugs by buying him a maserati. he didn't meet his own twin brother until they were fifteen years old. he's been to jail. he is five feet even. he's the best goalie in the league and he couldn't care less. he gets in the shower fully clothed to give neil josten a blowjob. he's a chainsmoking pro athlete. he's getting a criminal justice degree as a joke. he picked the guy with a dozen fake names and a mafioso daddy to be with forever. he's a scorpio. the closest thing he's ever had to a father is his college exy coach. he loves hot chocolate and ice cream and clubbing with his cousin.

andrew minyard character of all time.

[venus-aster]

WHY I HAVEN'T REALISED HE WAS A SCORPIO ?!

[venus-aster]

I just have realised something.

Mary died in a car.

Tilda died in a car accident.

So can I do a prediction and wish that Mathilda Wilshire die in a car crash ?

(But it's not Jeremy that will be present like Neil and Andrew)