#The bottom blue one is the first one I ever posted on this website | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rennyji · 2 months

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remaining remaining remaining tweets not on Tumblr yet, on Tumblr.

UPDATED 2/22/2024 10:27 PM with italicized section in particular, towards bottom

You ever have a conversation with someone, and they tell you, "let them speak first," and they start saying untrue/accusatory things, where, then, you have to interrupt, otherwise rendering everyones time useless?

have U ever spoken 2 some1, recounting a past argument, where they said U were "hyper" in place of "frustrated"? Sometimes diction can paintAn entirelyDifferent context/picture. "Hyper" implies some1 without self control, spewing nonsense. "Frustrated" implies some justification.

With Batman Beyond ( #BatmanBeyond ) , I remember its debut when I was younger. Unlike some of the CGI Batman series on MAX, the old stuff was gold. I liked the time travel twists with future Static Shock, or the twist at the end, where it turns out Terry McGinnis is Bruce's son.

I realize The Beatles ( #TheBeatles #Beatles ) are such a favorite among people because the lyrics to their songs are catchy and fun enough for everyone to just sing along. Kind of like "We will rock you."

#WhenTheGoingGetsRough Nikki Haley ( #Nikki #Haley #NikkiHaley ) , as the tough, gets going. She is eloquent & sharper,among all running. U don't need another test or State of the Union ( #StateOfTheUnion ) I elaborate in my Tumblr blog post, below:

Text comparison tools, like Free WinMerge (or paid counterparts) allow people 2 compare 2 separate texts & files, side by side, 4 differences b/w them. Say U have a website that's frequently updated. U can highlight differences from original text w/this. https://winmerge.org/?lang=en

U know whats comical about swastika painters on Jewish temples? It's because it's actually an Indian/Hindu symbol 4 good fortune. In India, people mark houses with this symbol. Hitler/Nazis distorted meaning. The Aryans? Actually Northern Indians. 1000 year Reich? From the 1000 yr reign of a Hindu avatar. Hitler, the guy who wasn't even blonde hair/blue eyed just took concepts from another group of people and their religion.

Ive often wondered if Earth is cosmically special by God thru creation as said in Genesis. Many planets don't have moons. It influences ourBehavior b/c of water composition. Constellations coincide w/human personalities. Is Earth unique 4testing human character 4 salvation?-

-EarthPeople look different-whether it's British, Chinese/etc. Ive wondered if theres a British planet, anAfrican planet, etc. Every1 has a creation/flood story, where a non-human entity selects/warns select-few. Like seedingAmerica w/differentCultures but on a planetaryScale.-

-America-Its like some1 cosmicallySignificant wanted2 C if different looking people could come 2gether & C individuals 4internal aspects like intellect&personality. Like experiment from a federationOfPlanets- AmericanRevolution succeeded inIndependence underUnlikelyCircumstances.

w/America fighting great odds 2 come 2 form, I dont agree w/Trump's GestapoStyleDeportation of illegals w/military or his separation of parentsFromChildren. Military should be used 2 patrol heavy illegal areas 4 order. Dont agree w/Nazi style Alabama nitrogenGas executions.-

military deportation of illegals seems 2 be Trump's ploy of targeting rage/hatred part of admirable fire of his followers. U'll get cheers & approvals, but America being America needs 2 walk hard path of compassion & work arounds like a stone border wall. Defense, not offense.

We need 2 look @ content of people's characters. Pronouns R 2-3 letter words. Person's character?= something invisible/powerful/magical. That said, I don't get Y people get worked up over pronouns or stone border wall ideas. Whats bad about a stone wall? wall=job opportunity, in terms of building and if you can make it into - I'm going to say it - a tourist attraction like the Chinese Great Wall.

when it comes 2 abortion & question of when life begins, as brought up again w/Alabama 's perspective on frozen embryos, we need 2 treat question of "when life begins" on a granular level. It's not when a clonable body is born, but when a mind, a soul, a personality is born. A body is a vessel for the immortal soul, the very Breath of Life from God, as given to Adam.

If we can take the THC out of marijuana for legal consumer use, I wish they'd do something about the smell. Maybe that's the illegal marijuana? I don't know, never smoked it...but the smell is recognizable and now common in parking lots, outside stores, in neighborhoods...

Guardians of the Galaxy ( #GuadiansOfTheGalaxy ) is a feel good movie about family/friend/adventure I can watch again & again on cable. It isn't explicitly playful or innocent, or tries as hard like in Thor: Love & Thunder . Can't wait till Avengers 5 or whichever number is next.

how many plane parts are coming off, and how many subway trains & regular trains have recently been derailed? Is it because of increased drug use or various brain dampening instigators that's causing carelessness that leads to these accidents and, additionally, violent behaviors?

Life is like a game of Super Monkey Ball ( #SuperMonkeyBall #MonkeyBall ) #WednesdayMotivation #WednesdayThought ... its about creating walls 4 our life, 4 us 2 ball back on when trials/tribulations of living strike. ideaExtended in Tumblr blog postBelow:

insteadOf military massDeportation of illegals In USA, Y notUse army @ border 4 increasedManPower? #StopProblemAtSource & stop future illegals. Venezuela? UseArmy 2Help w/political unrest. Syria/Turkey? Work w/Mexico 2 stopAirTravel, otherwise now their population.Use #Diplomacy.

8th Amendment Cruel & Unusual Punishment “Excessive bail shallNot B required, nor excessiveFines imposed, nor cruel&unusual punishmentsInflicted.” Like $355 million 4 Trump fraud or $148 million 4 Guliani defamation case. How much is enough, 4restitution & resultingLifeOfLuxury.

Average salary 4 American w/college degree is $50,000/$100,000 4 others. Trumps $355 million loss/Guliani’s $148 million is revenge money not justice. America isMore justice, Id expect. Sounds like something Russia does w/LA American ballerina, w/life imprisonment 4 $51 donation.

Fraud prosecution penalty against Trump is abusive. -no harm done 2 any1, although rooted in deceit- price of lying on figures is not 1/2 a billion dollars=Clear vendetta. Against 8th Amendment. Not as Navalny. More like Russia giving imprisonment 2 L.A. female 4 $51 donation.

Biden energy policy,risk 3000+ jobs. coat/non-renewableEnergySources notSustainable I.e. causesDamage 2PlanetUr children/grandchildren http://live.New energyPolicies shouldCome inStages: 1.alertPublic onPolicy 2.slowlyPhase outJobs, whileProvidingTraining 4greenerJobs.-

When Biden's energy policies take away jobs, it becomes chess piece the opposing party will try 2 move 2 win an election. They'll say we're bringing back jobs. If they win, next administration just undoes what previous administration did-this political back & forth b/w them. So, with energy policies taking away jobs, don't just abruptly pull the plug.

Boeing has some parts made by subcontractors, some parts shipped from Malaysia. Page from Apples book? B/c hardware&software from same company, they make functionally stabile machines. Need to make it cheaper 2 localize/centralize American manufacturing.

MacBooks R a luxury w/unwanted headaches…not like standard Windows features people accustomed to. Need 2 relearn laptop. Docks/software/accessories specific 2 Mac more expensive. 4multi-monitor limitation on MacBooks while windows notebooks have 5, = another limitation of Mac.

Another limitation of another #Apple product: the Apple Watch , (#AppleWatch #iWatch) is how you can scroll/slide thru a song on #iPhone ( iPhone ) but not Music app/Spotify on iWatch. At least allow skip capability with the iWatch bezel...

Apple hardware infused w/ Microsoft Windows features w/Linux fused terminal/command prompt or compatible commands ( 'mkdir' 'ls' etc.)...a melding of these vendors would produce such an awesome machine if allowed to work with cross platform software/accessories...time 4 unity...

I wasn't a fan of how Doctor Strange ( #DoctorStrange ) took Tom Holland 's ( #TomHolland ) universe's memory of him being Spider-Man ( #Spiderman Spiderman ). It was also sad how, in Disney+ 's ( #Disney ), What If ( #WhatIf WhatIf) series, he was made 2 be the ultimate villain.

I sympathize with Israel. But while so much attention goes to a music festival and the infamous Kibbutz Bei Rei, people don't realize that because of the actions of a few: Hamas, over 20,000 Palestinians have died. North and South of Gaza has been decimated. Electricity has been cut, food is short, shelter is scarce. When I see it, I write it.

I sympathize with Israel. But while so much attention goes to a music festival and the infamous Kibbutz Bei Rei, people don't realize that because of the actions of a few: Hamas, over 20,000 Palestinians have died. I think-don’t quote me- more Palestinians died than Israelis and the bulk of the coverage in Israel centers around those two events, where horrible things like rapes did occur. But North and South of Gaza has been decimated. In Gaza, Electricity has been cut, food is short, shelter is scarce, disease is spreading/people are dying. You’re also creating future enemies because of hardship.

I do not mean to put pressure on one candidate over another, but we need someone sharp, and able to finish sentences and perspectives, without making up words like “big-ly” (the English language is deteriorating). The sharp individual implied is Nikki Haley, or someone equally good, who measures to the bar of hard work she set.

There is a degradation of culture in western world: I’m not 1 to call himself religious, but I believe & have insight…I have respect for these practices. A Commandment: Don’t Use My Name in Vain- outta respect, should avoid rhetoric like [Jesus] F* [Christ] or [Holy] f* [God]-

-Y blame God 4 ur’s or other’s choices? God didn’t cause my decade long situation. People did,& their enablers. Nature of existence defined in literal/figurative Adam/Eve story. 4 a bad choice, toil on earth was the punishment.We have power to choose & responsibility of choices.-

- Fate is the framework of our existence. It’s what we are born into. The framework says where the floor and ceiling are. Destiny is how high or low we “choose” to go within the framework of fate.- some people work hard to go above the ceiling.

Our souls(minds) R a chariotDriver, driving Horses that R our emotions/feelings/commitments, inFormOf thought/speech/action. On #SaturdayMorning , as #SaturdayVibes , #SaturdayMotivation , & #SaturdayThought, I extend perspective in Tumblr blog post below:

Theres a time 2 look up, look straight ahead, &inward. U look inward, when U need 2 think thru aProblem. U look straight 2 keep urEyesOpen 4 a solution, & u look up when its time 2 leave 2 God 2 handle the results after U do ur best-ur part. #SaturdayThought #SaturdayMotivation

A link 2 Tumblr blog page below, with tweets, right side up/organized, summing up my situation. There R other tweets & other Tumblr links among those tweets, ordering what came prior, as U scroll down. Note embedded clips as U scroll.

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Section below added on the evening of 2/22/2024 at 10:27 PM

Theres 8 million+ migrants in America. In highSchool, learned normal USA population was 350 million (more now). So I wondered, 4 every 1 migrant, how many Americans are there. 4 every 1 migrant, theres 40 regular Americans. 1 for every 40, when talking millions seems like a lot.

I saw Superman: Red Son-a non conventional bizarro version of Kansas Superman. Russia is a bizarro dark American superpower. As seen in Ukraine, theyve a surplus of soldiers/ tanks/weapons. Would Biden sanctioning them affect aSelfSufficient nation w/diversity/opportunity of USA?

After 200+ years of existing, USA should be in position 2 help destitute Ukraine conditions & stop old ladies from using their walkers 2 get food distribution, where if theyre lucky, they get chocolate. How sad is it 2 watch some1 at end of life grovel @ a distance 4 chocolate?

We call our elected officials civil servants. W/this fervor 4 wondering what founders implied in constitution, servant has a pretty clear meaning: 1 2 cater 2 people. If Congress passed 2-3 CRs since Oct., risking pay of army/etc, w/no risk 2 own, amidst vacations, wats goingOn?!

USA is mix of rich man thatHoarded & starved Lazarus, & is country w/most potential 2 have house in order, 2 take of other countries. In latterStory, were the 1s who buried our potential, our 1 coin, amidstThe 5&10 coiners, who doubled portion. We risk losing&world walkingOverUs.

I trulyHope thisIs Renaissance of Space Age. Haven’t made progress in 50 years. W/evenMore advanced tech, still can’t emulate pastSuccesses. I think in 20 yrs, Earth population wentFrom 6 billion to 8 billion. We need 2take advantageOf moon/mars real estate 4 territory/abundance.

"When talent doesn't work hard, hard work beats talent."

Line b/w law & religion doesnt have 2 B about 1 or the other. Religion&stories can B used 2guide Law&fact. Ex. whatIsLife?(isIt soul/developing brain emittingBrainWaves-ifByThatMeaning,itCoincides w/baby 1st receivingOxygen, or BreathofLife-U might need 2limit abortion to 6weeks

InterpretLaw w/changing times/circumstance. In SQL DatabaseProgramming, aViewIsAVirtualTable containing rows/columns, justLike realTable. FieldsInAView R fieldsFrom 1orMore realTables. LawInterpretations R aView 4EZ reference basedOn prev.ExistingLaws,whenByItSelfUnclear. See 2 pics in LINK below. The 2nd pic or pic on right, shows how the different shades, representing columns in tables on the left, get mixed into one single table with the borrowed shades, on the right.

https://x.com/RennyJi/status/1760865025453957440?s=20

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lastchancevillagegreen · 4 months

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Tuesday, 2 January 2023:

The Darden Smith bundle.

In 1989 I bought my first, and last, Darden Smith album. It was Evidence and actually it was by Darden Smith and Boo Hewerdine. It was fantastic, but I never investigated either artists any further and I was fine with that. Sometimes it just happens, one album by an artist is sufficient enough to carry you through for the rest of your days.

But these days I tend to explore the entirety of an artist's catalog, buying everything by them and listening to them chronologically so I can hear growth, change, whatever over the course of that person or band's career.

This stack of ten CDs you see in the photo above is not the entirety of Darden Smith's catalog. This stack essentially covers his discography from 2002 to 2022 (roughly, I'll break it down at the end of this entry). That excludes his work from his debut in 1986 up to 1993 when he released six albums. I would always rather hear an artist's earlier years than their later years if I have to do an abbreviated catalog study. Quite frankly, I'd rather not even study Smith's career, no offense to him.

Here's how it happened. My brother, the original Mr Catalog Study has been doing one on Smith since last year. He will occasionally post a Darden Smith song on God's Jukebox and it is generally good. But honestly, I'm a hundred years old and I've heard Americana music to death and I'd rather not engage with a new artist (to me) in that genre at this moment in time. I have a dozen other full catalogs to explore that I've not yet heard, so an Americana artist is way down low on my list of catalog studies. Still, my brother's enthusiasm bled over into my mind. And then he told me on Smith's website he is selling ten of his albums on CD for $50. What a deal! In my greedy mind ten albums for $50 is such a bargain why would you ignore it?

I almost hit the buy it now button on Smith's site but then I came to my senses. The last thing I wanted was ten late career albums by an artist who never intrigued me beyond the aforementioned Evidence, which is so good, I pulled it out and began playing last September when my brother bought his Darden Smith bundle.

Well, I was playing Evidence a lot, late at night. Mrs Echo was gone again for a week at a time and I'll often sit upstairs late, playing albums, having a couple of Shiners and evidently, after a few beers from Brew Works, I went home and played Evidence and had a couple more drinks and then...

...I awoke in the morning to a Pay Pal receipt in my email telling me I authorized $50 to Smith. I was so unhappy with myself that I ignored the fact I did this. That was September. Quite frankly I forgot about doing that foolish act until Christmas when my brother came to town and he told me he had to write Smith because it has been four months and nothing has ever shown in his mailbox. Smith himself responded that he has had distributor problems or something, I've already forgotten because I didn't want to be reminded of my failing will power. Long story short, Smith assured my brother his package will arrive shortly. I knew that must hold true for myself, even if I no longer wanted the damn things.

I am so angry with myself, my lack of will power, my greed and my enjoyment of Brew Works/ Shiner Bock. Oh well, now I'm stuck, I'm not buying more Smith, his catalog study will include this stack of ten and then I'm done. I don't need 18 Darden Smith albums crowding my CD shelf. Ten is bad enough.

Starting at the bottom of that stack in the photo above, here are the ten albums:

Deep Fantastic Blue (Plump Records) (released in 1996)

Sunflower (Dualtone) (released in 2002)

Circo (Dualtone) (released in 2004)

Field of Crows (Dualtone) (released in 2005)

Ojo (not on label) (released in 2006)

After All This Time: The Best of Darden Smith (Darden Music) (released in 2009)

Marathon (Darden Music) (released in 2010)

Love Calling (Compass Records) (released in 2013)

Everything (Compass) (released in 2017)

Western Skies (not on label) (released in 2022)

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min-pathologica · 4 months

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putting this here because long post, just me talking about a weird dream i had lmao

so i took a nap and had a weird dream. the earliest of it i remember were my tumblr mutuals and i making fun of each other’s blog names for fun or whatever so i started chasing my cousin (who does not have tumblr) around so i could figure out how to make fun of her username. so eventually i figured out the best joke i could make was ‘lgbstacy’ (her name isn’t even stacy) and she was like ‘omg stawp’ because we were in her nonexistent sister’s nonexistent room. who was napping. she woke up but didn’t really care, anyway i took a look around and apparently she reads a fuck ton of books and got some for christmas. she also has a huge collection of these ridiculously large shiny blue books with reddish-orange text that always said something along the lines of ‘story with a(n) [adjective] start’ and from what i saw some of them were pretty dark topics. the only thing i knew about the series was that it was advanced reading, and that me not having read it was an insult to my intelligence. so i was fairly jealous of nonexistent girl. she also had some textbooks so large they couldn’t hold their weight as soft covers, like the bottom just opened up weird. and she was talking about the ones she got for christmas but i wasn’t listening. i think she might’ve had a princeton review book somewhere in there? we have those in the school library irl.

i also had a dream at normal sleeping time. the earliest i remember from that was me falling behind on some work so i had to go to school early to get it done on my little ibook (why an ibook i don’t know). then school started and other people showed up which i didn’t appreciate because i was trying to work on my own and they would judge me. then class started which was ela and our lesson was in some mental health website that turned out to be really annoying and dumb. so to follow its instructions we had to go for a run in the school woods while answering a series of questions that followed a story. first off the story assumed i was into men and was about me talking to some ‘cute boy’ who flirted with me and dragged me around all day to hang out. i doubt i ever even caught his name. then near the end when my class reached the main woods apparently my therapist showed up and was like ‘oh who’s this!’ and i had to decide my answer out of the answers which looked like colorful cocaine on my fingers. so i choose the reasonable answer, ‘i don’t know him’ because i don’t he just decided to drag me around, and it gave me a gameover because apparently i was supposed to like this dickhead and magically know his name. but since the website sucked and i didn’t want to use it i just put down my ibook and ran into the wood area. now see the fun thing is you’re supposed to run in to gain momentum because something about the area lets you glide in the air. so i jumped in to do some cool-ass air ballet that everyone obviously thought was so cool because omg how did you do air ballet. well no one was looking but i’d like to think it was cool lmao

#minxiety

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breatheeasy808 · 2 years

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Day 15- Put your iPod on shuffle: First 10 songs that play

Believe it or not, up until relatively recently I used to manually download all my songs from YouTube by converting these links into MP3 files from a third party website and individually upload them onto my iTunes library. Although I modernized my music listening experience by downloaded Spotify in my freshman year of college, for whatever reason, there was some internal software error that prevented me ever being able to open the application on my laptop ever again after my first semester. I resigned myself to going back to downloading bootleg MP3 files from YouTube until my previous laptop's battery died right around the time I was applying to graduate schools. Fortunately, my entire iTunes library was preserved and successfully transferred over to my iPhone. Even better, when I re-downloaded Spotify on my new laptop, I was able to access everything once more, five years later. Needless to say, I no longer resort to manually downloading each song I wish to listen to but I am glad that I still have all those songs stored on my iTunes library because it feels like a curated collection of all time favorite songs, compared to just an expansive music database like Spotify. Although I fully acknowledge that Spotify is the superior music listening experience, I still have a soft spot for my iTunes library for the nostalgia it represents whenever I listen to it every once in a blue moon. Plus, some of the bootlegged MP3 files I ripped from YouTube are not found on Spotify, so I still have access to these rare gems. Placing my iPod (or rather iTunes library) on shuffle, these are the first ten songs that play:

His Girl—The Budos Band. I discovered this instrumental track through the old stand-up bassist from Arnou's band Fossils & Flowers who played it while driving me around San Diego in his vintage station wagon. It's a funky Latin-tinged, minor-key homage to Smokey Robison's iconic anthem "My Girl."

Dig Your Grave—Yes Ma'am. When I first started street performing, I looked up YouTube videos of folk music buskers in the major music cities like New York City, Asheville, and New Orleans to find some inspiration. I discovered this street band Yes Ma'am from New Orleans whose infectious, rowdy, acoustic blend of country blues and rock 'n rock captivated me, especially the lead singer's multi-instrumental get up of a steel resonator guitar, suitcase drum, tambourine, and receptionist bell. This is one of the few songs in my library that I purchased from the band's BandCamp instead of ripping the file off YouTube.

Bottom of the Sea Blues—Johnny Flynn. My old housemate Keshav showed me this artist Johnny Flynn, who plays a similar type of resonator guitar that I do. What strikes me about his style of music is that its loosely based on British/Irish folk traditions, but the instrumentation and delivery keeps it rooted in a more modern sound without remaining in what one reviewer describes as "weirdy beardy" territory.

Panic—The Smiths. A classic Smiths jam. I started listening to this band in high school during my "indie music phase." This song's refrain of "hang the DJ" particularly spoke to me, considering I viewed most mainstream music with disdain (and still kind of do). The Smiths are one band that I never really grew out of.

Temptation—New Order. In a similar vein, New Order was another indie post-punk band I first listened to in high school that stuck with me after all these years. This song is pretty emblematic of New Order's post-punk sound, fundamentally rooted in the 80s soundscape—synthesizers, driving drum machine beats, edgy electric guitar riffs—without sounding overly tacky and cheesy with its sound.

Hyacinth House—The Doors. A lesser known Doors track from their album L.A. Woman. This song reminds me of my late middle school days, when I devoured volumes of Jim Morrison's poetry and played music almost every day in my school's band room with one of my best friends at the time who reminded me of a mini version of The Doors' keyboardist and organist Ray Manzarek.

Young Blood—The Naked and Famous. I first heard this song in high school, discovered during my indie music phase to no surprise. I was particularly drawn to the fact that the lead singer of this New Zealand-based band is a Taiwanese woman, which I found pretty out of the ordinary for this genre of music. I listened to this band all throughout my underclassmen years of college too and their bright synth-pop sound always remind me of being a freshman in college living in California for the first time.

Monday, Monday—The Mamas & The Papas. Like many, my first exposure to The Mamas & The Papas was with their iconic song "California Dreamin'." I immersed myself more in 60s and 70s music in my first year of college, which dovetailed with my increased use of recreational cannabis at the time, and this was one of the songs I listened to particularly on Mondays to start the new week, but really any calendar day, with a mellow mood as if waking up from a dreamy slumber and returning to reality after some weekend adventures and shenanigans. While I was living in New Orleans this past year, I bought this entire album If You Can Believe Your Eyes And Ears on vinyl to commemorate all the California daydreams of my youth.

Shed—Title Fight. Another musical genre that I never outgrew from high school was hardcore & punk rock. Title Fight is one of the bands from the mid 2010s that was one of the staples of my hardcore era. I appreciate this song's driving, gritty delivery that still retains some melodic structure.

Half Light II (No Celebration)—Arcade Fire. I was more of a fan of Arcade Fire when I was still in high school but I discovered this particular song in college. The opening lines "Now that San Francisco's gone//I guess I'll just pack it in//Wanna wash away my sins//In the presence of my friends" reminds me of my first spring break trip to San Francisco, when the city still represented this glowing halcyon beacon of Bay Area beauty before it rapidly deteriorated in the last half decade. The melodies of this song are uplifting, while the lyrical themes are bittersweet at best and melancholic at worst. Ever time I listen to it, I reminisce on lost connections and the demise of a once great city.

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welch77doyle · 2 years

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hermes pochette kelly 1

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alvarezmarquez6 · 2 years

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Desi Mom Says Daughter's Rs 35k Gucci Belt Appears Like A Faculty Belt Epic Viral Video

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caffeineforbucky · 3 years

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As Time Goes By...(Chapter One)

Post-blip (five or six months later)

A/N: This is my first time writing on this website or anything public really, I usually just write for me, please just bear with me if it looks or sounds janky. Also, thanks for taking the time to read. I deeply & wholeheartedly appreciate you. Enjoy!

Summary: I suck at them but, I'll give it a shot. You- the reader, are surprised by 'old' friends when they show up out of the blue, asking for your help on a mission. (This is just the sum for chap. 1)

Word count: 2,760

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, ex-boyfriend jealousy...

The day was coming to an end, a small heatwave conjuring up a sweat as you wiped down your last table for the night. You blew out a breath, brushing back a sheen of perspiration with your forearm, watching the last customer walk out of the restaurant as the bell chimed above their head.

You never understood why people chose to sit inside when there were tables out on the sidewalk. It was hotter in here than out there, especially since the air conditioner had gone out just a few days prior and the fans above the tables were only circling the air inside. It was an actual oven, but they contended.

Your hightops heaved across the tile, dragging yourself with the sufficiency of a person who was only working because they had to. You kicked up the doorstop, pulling the door towards you with a small amount of goodwill and vigor to finish locking up, flipping the paper sign over from open to closed. It wasn't as if you hated your job. You thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere of it all. It was the only person working the night shift job you hated with every fiber of your being. You weren't completely alone in the restaurant, having a few cooks and the owner to keep you company, especially on busy nights like the one you just had.

"I'm clocking out, Mrs. Turner!" You call out, reaching behind your back to untie the knot of your apron, pulling it up and off your neck once the ties came undone. Trudging back to the table, you picked up the disinfectant wipe and toss it in the bin, making your way to your boss's office before hanging up your apron on the hook. "Mrs. Turner...?" You murmur softly, poking your head in through the doorway, only to see her counting the profits for the day. "I'm heading home," You chime, pointing behind your shoulder with your thumb as she glances up at you.

"Alright, Honey," She beams, a bright smile pulling at her lips as her eyes meet yours. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Working for the Turners wasn't supposed to be a permanent job, in fact, it wasn't even your original plan, as opposed to the small favors you would complete now and then for the people that were willing to pay a pretty penny for your...services.

But you figured having a stable job was smarter and safer than the alternative. And the help wanted sign was very persuasive, due to the pretty colors and splashes of glitter. It looked like it was made by a child, which you later found out, was decorated by Mrs. Turner's seven-year-old. "Always." You accede, tapping the doorframe as your goodbye before parading into the breakroom to gather your things from the lockers.

You take your backpack off the hook and swing the strap over your shoulder before time punching your card and going straight through the back door. The sounds of the city hit your ears as the heavy door slammed behind you. Traffic honks and tires treading against the grain while you walk further into the busy streets of San Francisco.

As you were about to turn the corner, you were met with the sight of your friend's van, followed by a trumpet rendition of La Cucaracha. You grinned widely, gripping your strap tighter as you jog up the 1972 Ford Ecoline, aka Big Bertha. At least that's what you called it. "Luis!" You rejoice, resting your palms on the ledge. "What are you doing here?"

"Scotty sent me out for a few things," Luis answers, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his head turned to you. "I was just about to go when I saw you. Thought you might need a ride." He shrugs, a cute smile playing on his lips.

You nod, reciprocating the smile at his answer. "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble..." You drag, your voice hesitant, as if he didn't offer at all.

"Nah, get in." He gestures, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. "Your place is on the way," Luis loosens his seatbelt, reaching over to the passenger side to pull up the lock, opening the door for you.

You climb in, plopping down on the tufted leather seats as you pulled the door towards you, closing it shut. "Thanks, Lu," You breathe, dropping your backpack below your feet, then you fasten your seatbelt. "How is Scott, anyway?" You ask as Luis changes gears and presses the gas, the van rolls onto the street.

"Ehh...he's...he's alright, know what I'm sayin'?" He answers, glancing at you before focusing back on the road. "I mean, he missed like five years of his daughter's life. He's just trying to spend as much time with her to make up for years they both lost."

You nibble at the inside of your cheek, nodding softly in agreement as the city lights passed you by. There wasn't much you could say to that, having lost so many people yourself. People you considered family just...gone.

"Yo!" Luis pipes up, snapping you out of your train of thought. "Didja see the news today?!" He shakes his head, whistling at the thought. "I can't believe they would just give some random dude the shield like that, ya know?"

You drew in your bottom lip in contempt, nodding once again at Luis. You had seen the news, and they couldn't have picked a better time to broadcast. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Turner asking you in, you would've hunted Sam Wilson down and kicked his ass yourself.

The van rolled to a stop, brakes squealing as Luis pulled up beside your apartment. You sighed heavily, glancing at the small apartment you shared with your Ex-boyfriend. By the looks of the living room light illuminating behind the curtains, he was home, and you absolutely dreaded when he was. It wasn't as if you wanted to live with him, but you had no other alternative. Ever since dropping your side job, money was tighter, and he was kind enough to let you stay, just until you found a place. "Thanks again for the ride, Lu." You mumble, unclicking your seatbelt as you took hold of your backpack. "You didn't have to."

"Don't even mention it, Y/N," Luis reassures, watching you as you pull at the door handle, opening it to get out. "I know how hard it is to get back into the norm."

You shut the passenger door, shooting him a sympathetic smile. "I'll see you around?"

With a smile, Luis waves goodbye and drives off into the night, the exhaust pipe blowing smoke as he rode off. You shook your head, cracking a smile at the honk of his horn. You turned towards the front entrance of the apartment, your stomach twisting as your smile dropped completely. You swallowed thickly, rolling the tension from your shoulders to prepare yourself before jogging up the small flight of stairs.

You fished your keys from the front pocket of your backpack, taking a breath before shoving the key into the lock, twisting as you pushed the door open with your shoulder. "Joshua?!" You voiced, calling out your ex's name to make sure it was him. You dropped your belongings beside the door, pushing your sneakers off before kicking the door shut with your foot.

"Yeah, in here!" He responds quickly, a slight tremor to his tone.

You frown softly, tossing your keys into the bowl on the console table before sauntering to where his voice was emanating from. "Josh, are you...?" Your voice came to a halt, your footsteps stopping altogether as you walked into the living room.

"Hey!" Joshua exclaims once your figure comes into view. "You wanna explain who they are?" He presses, his face crossed with fear as he gestures to the two men sitting calmly on your living room couch.

You remained quiet, your body tense, eyes wide as your focus shifted between the men on the couch and your ex.

"Well...?" Joshua demands, crossing his arms over his chest, shifting in his stance at the unsettling glare one of the men was sending his way. "I was in the middle of hosting game night-as you can see, when they showed up," Josh drops his arms, hands splaying out to gesture to the coffee table consisting of five different dips, two bulk-sized bags of tortilla chips, and a twenty-four pack of Blue Moon beer. "The guys were just about to come over."

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to refrain from any and all insults towards your ex. That explained why he was home. "Um..." You utter, pinching the bridge of your nose, "Fucking hell," You curse under your breath, eyes fluttering open to look at Joshua. "Josh," You begin, clearing your throat as you start with the man on the left. "They are Sam Wilson and..." You hesitate, eyes settling on the man to the right, his sight alone bringing back the memories that you swore you didn't want to remember. "James Barnes," You finish, ripping your eyes away from his baby blues to look at your ex. "Aka-"

"The Falcon and The Winter Soldier..." Joshua finishes for you, his eyes flashing with amazement, head whipping towards the guys. "Shit!" He curses, smiling widely like a kid in a candy store. "Can I get you guys anything? A plate? Beer?"

"Actually," You grunt, interrupting before Sam or Bucky could answer. "Can you give us a minute, Joshua?" Insisting while your foot tapped impatiently against the hardwood floor.

"Should I be worried?" He inquires, eyes filled with confusion as he looked between the three of you, trying to piece together the situation at hand. The main reason you and Joshua couldn't work it out was that you kept a lot of secrets, mostly from him. He didn't like the fact that you wouldn't let him in. Sure, you lied to him, the biggest lie being that you were an Avenger, but that was just to keep him safe. There were other reasons why you decided to split up as well. Joshua knew...he knew deep down you were just with him to pass the time. He could see it when he looked into your eyes. There was someone else in the reflection and it wasn't him. If he was honest with himself, he could admit that it did hurt him. That he wanted a chance to make it work with you, but with the way you were staring at James, he finally recognized that reflection.

He should've noticed it early on-like that day he had somehow convinced you to take a trip to D.C for a tour of the Captain America museum. You were hell-bent on not going, trying to make up some elaborate excuse or an alibi of sorts, but alas, you still went. And for some odd reason, you couldn't stop coming back to the Bucky Barnes portion.

"No," You reply, keeping it short to dismiss him.

Joshua's mouth set in a hard line, a foreign feeling forming in the pit of his stomach-jealousy. He never had to worry about it before, especially when his friends used to come over, back when you were still together. Except for that one time, but how could he blame them? You were the kind of person that listened, laughed at the jokes being made, could lend a hand when needed, and your looks were just a bonus in his book. "Uhm, yeah," He coughed, frowning softly while nodding his head at you. "I have to go pick up the pizza, anyway," Josh brushes past you, fetching his keys from the bowl while slipping on his Vans that sat up against the wall ledge that separated the front door from the living room. "Are you going to be okay?" He mumbles, glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

You shoot Josh a smile, nodding reassuringly, his footsteps approaching closer before stopping in front of you, the palm of his hand landing gently on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Let me know if you need anything, m'kay?" Josh's voice is soft, the concern in his eyes making you feel guilty. You knew he cared about you, and there wasn't a time where you'd catch him staring at you for far too long, but you were well past that. "I'm just a text away," He notes, waving his cell in his hand.

"Josh, I'll be fine," You sigh, stepping away from his touch, the sound of his hand hitting his jeans as it dropped from your shoulder. "I always am."

"Right," Josh nods, looking over at the men on the couch before gazing back at you. "I'll see you in a bit, bug." And with that, he turns, opens the front door, and steps out, shutting the wooden door behind him.

You close your eyes, the pet name Josh had coined for you making you sigh. He agreed to stop calling you that all together and it only made you feel that more guilty for ending things. "So..." You pipe up, opening your eyes as you turned to look at the guys. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Bug?"

Bucky is the first to speak, his jaw clenched at the mere sound of the word. Indignant at the way Josh had touched you, even if it was just your shoulder. "I didn't know he knew you like that," Bucky flashes you a taut smile, nodding softly as he shared a look with Sam, but the falcon only shook his head. "How long have you been..." Bucky couldn't even finish the question, his glove-clad hands tightening at the thought of you being with somebody else...someone that wasn't him. Though, it was his own fault. If he hadn't done what he'd done-you'd have never found another.

"Wow," You scoff, padding closer to where they sat. "You don't miss a beat, do you? Just..." You sink into the sofa adjacent to the one they occupied. "-Right into the big stuff."

"I didn't bring you here to question her about her love life," Sam voices, his scolding eyes on the man beside him. "And she sure as hell isn't obligated to answer you, Bucky."

You smile gratefully at Sam before glancing down at your leg that had begun to bounce in anticipation. "What are you guys doing here? And how'd you find me?" You ask, tilting your head in curiosity as you look up at the guys. "When I resigned from the Avengers initiative, they ensured me that I wasn't able to be traced, not by your or any other remaining member. I was supposed to be scot-free," You declare, hitting your thigh with your fist.

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Sam chuckles, shaking his head at the naivety. "We both know that's a bunch of bullshit. The government is always going to have its eyes on us. Especially free agents like you and us."

You draw in your bottom lip, biting down, eyes flickering between Sam and Bucky. You knew it was too good to be true, and part of you sensed the bullshit when the government explained it to you. You just didn't want to believe it.

"You were an ex-assassin. How could they not keep tabs on your whereabouts?" Sam recounts, emphasizing that it was in the past. At least, that's what they thought. "And I had some help from Redwing as well." He shrugs nonchalantly.

You choke out a laugh, shaking your head at the smug demeanor emitting from Sam. "Redwing," You whisper, smiling thinly. "Of course, nothing could ever be hidden from your personal P.I, huh?"

"I hate that thing," Bucky grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. in annoyance. "Invasion of privacy, I'm telling you."

"You love redwing," Sam jokes, playfully jabbing Bucky's arm with his elbow, "It's okay Bucky, you can admit it."

"Can we get back to the issue here?" You interject, "Not one of you has explained the reason you're here. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great to see you...one more than the other," You whisper that last part but, completely aware that Bucky could hear it. "But, you both showing up out of the blue...? That's almost a bad omen."

"I didn't ask him here, by the way," Sam acknowledges, raising his hands in defense, "I just want to get that out of the way. Bucky came because he wanted to. I'm here," Sam gestures to himself, "-For one reason and one reason only..."

"And what's that?" You ask, leaning forward in your seated position.

"I need your help, Y/N."

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darling-cas · 3 years

Text

Hoax (an original story)

I amaze myself sometimes.

My therapist says I need to go back to things that bring me joy, says I need to find happiest in life again. During one specific session, I was asked to name a time when I was truly at peace, a time I felt moments of pure joy outside of my partner and friends. The first thing that came to mind was a time years ago, when I would post stories here, on this website, for you all to see.

This surprised me honestly, because if you knew me personally (*cough* hi @ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie *cough*) you would know the amount of stress and pressure I put myself under when it came to writing We Are Young, Whatever It Takes, etc, etc, etc. But despite all the negative emotions, the moments that always stand out to me is sitting on my laptop after I clicked post, watching all the love and adoration pure in from each and every one of you.

I say this monthly but, I really do want to get back into writing. Thanks to my therapist and business major partner, I’ve been dipping my toes into editing for others as a side job. But I want to make my way back to writing my own stories and sharing them with even the smallest corner of the world. This story, Hoax, I wrote actually one year ago, when I first started therapy and after a hard heartbreak. It helped me feel like myself again and lifted me out of the darkness.

I hope, for even the smallest number of you, it does the same. I hope you can feel the same magic that I felt when I wrote it. Take this as a thank you for, years ago, bringing me such joy and happiness.

Until next time...

Cas.

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The air was midsummer sweet.

It was an Indian summer of blue sky dreams and late evening tears, with the weather shifting moods in the blink of an eye. Grey clouds would eclipse the setting sun with their mighty fists, soaking up the colour of the earth like ink drenching a cotton ball.

And with the continuous alternating weather came the busty smell of sunblock and wet grass. Summer scents combined with the salty air and pungent fish that cling to Jake’s senses from the moment he started his journey along the coastal towns.

His mountain travels started just mere days ago. The task of hiking the grand peak was something he was finally going to cross off his bucket list. Dipping into his savings and requesting a week or two off work was a small price to pay when it came to the tranquility and beauty laid bare before him.

Born and raised on the outskirts of the city, there hadn't been much nature for him to appreciate and admire growing up. But from the moment Jake entered the first small, close-knit fishing town, all he could seem to do was appreciate and stare in outright awe.

The land laid undisturbed all around; the mountains, the trees, the ocean, they had all planted their roots, dug in their heels, and refused to surrender. Cities had been conquered, the vast expansion of country fields and towering summits were placed in chains, forced to give themselves to man. But here, on the coast of fishing villages, it seems as if Land and Man came to an agreement, a compromise, an understanding, to live in peace as one.

Roads of all kinds swerved, twisted, curled up and down along the coast, between the trees. Houses of unnaturally charming bright blues, yellows, oranges, and greens sat gracefully against the mountain rocks, climbing up the forest-speckled cliffs. Homes and buildings of sea-weathered colour rested on the broken shoreline. Boats bobbed in the water, their docks reaching out towards the horizon like fingers longing to reach and touch a disappearing lover.

In the coastal towns, driving along the sunset stained ocean, Jake swore he would never see true beauty again.

Even now, when the sky wept tears of sorrow, its beauty never vanished.

The weather came on suddenly, as he passed the welcoming sign for Higdon's Harbour. The roads became slick, a ghostly fog settled in, and the colours were muted a few shades darker by the clouds above. Rivers trickled down the mountain side, disappearing into shallow ditches. Waves started to leap and jump to catch the increasing wind. All while the sky cried on and on.

Jake drove on through the town. Classic rock thumped softly in the background and raindrops tapped on the roof of the car. He had planned not to stop for the night until the next town over. He had driven through several rain storms since the start of his trip, and this was nothing.

But the cracks in the sky's broken heart continued to grow with exceptional pain. Tears of despair quickly turned to tears of anger. The beating on the car became more aggressive as the wind wailed daunting threats and the ocean frantically waved its arms.

It became too much, too quick. Jake was used to driving through bad weather, but not seaside storms. Not gusting winds and sideways rain. Plus, he decided, he was already making good time. So when the flashing green neon sign reading Beaumont Motel came into view, he didn’t hesitate to pull off the road, into the parking lot, and turn off his car.

A bell jingled above as Jake pushed open the door. He stepped into the warmth of the lobby, drenched through his clothes and soaking the carpet under his feet.

“Turned nasty out there real quick, didn’t it?”

Jake threw off his hood, shaking out his damp, blonde hair as he caught sight of an older woman with long grey hair smiling at him from behind a wooden desk.

She pulled her beige cardigan closer around her, brown eyes crinkling in the corners. “Looking for a room, hun?”

“If you happen to have one available,” Jake replied, walking towards the desk and setting down his backpack. Judging by the lack of cars in the parking lot, he was more than confident there were plenty of empty rooms. Still, he glanced at the woman’s name tag and flashed her a smile. “Vera.”

“Oh, hun,” Vera chuckled. Her fingers tapped away on the computer that looked too new to be in the small, tacky, lobby with flower-patterned wallpaper. A lobby that was decorated with simply a small sitting area off to the side, a dusty fireplace warming the room, a dark wooden desk, rouge carpet, and outdated lighting fixtures. “I think I have one or two available. For how long will we be seeing your handsome face around?”

“Only a night,” Jake said. “I’m just passing through.”

“Storm pushed you off the road, huh?” Vera turned around and grabbed a key off one of the hooks on the wall. “It should only last the night. Nightly storms are common for us during this time of year. Here you go, hun.”

“Thank you!” Jake took the key before picking up his bag once more, throwing it over his shoulder.

“If you’re looking to warm up a bit, Kay & Elle, the pub next door, is open for a few more hours,” Vera informed him, fixing her wool cardigan on her shoulders. “A lot of the locals inhabit the place, but we’re friendly folks here. I’m sure they’ll keep you entertained for a bit.”

“Thank you for the suggestion!” Jake pulled his hood back over his head. “Have a good night, Vera.”

She waved him off with a dazzling smile. “Enjoy your short time at Higdon’s Harbour.”

Rain beat down around Jake as the lobby door closed behind him. The sticky air promised an onslaught of thunder and lightning, but it had yet to develop. With a glance at the metal key in his hand, Jake made out a marked 9 engraved at the top. His toes were cold as he quickly made it to the door and inserted the key before pushing the door open and stepping into the musty smelling room.

It was just as drab as the lobby. The double-bed was dressed in off-white coverings. Cream walls, dark carpet, and tacky seaside pictures. Along with two side tables by the bed, a small TV on top of a mini fridge, and a bathroom door on the far wall.

It wasn’t the nicest looking room he’d ever stayed in, but he would also be lying if he said he hadn’t stayed in worse before.

With a tired and uncomfortable sigh, Jake tossed his bag onto the bed, peeled off his wet coat, and padded off into the bathroom.

He never really thought of going to the pub Vera had mentioned. His only plans that evening consisted of taking a scalding shower before crawling into bed. Maybe watching some TV or reading the book at the bottom of his bag to spice up the night.

Yet, once the two former items on his agenda were checked off, an uneasiness fell over him. Neither the TV nor his book could hold his attention. The bedsheets itched his legs. His heart thumped in his chest, just fast enough to be noticeable. He couldn’t sit still.

Lightning flashed outside and Jake’s head whipped in the direction of the window. The pub came into view; the two porch lights twinkled in the dark and laughter sounded in time to the pounding storm. It shimmered in the lightning’s afterglow, the rain creating a silver mist of magic around the stone building.

Jake tossed off the sheets and threw on some clothes and his damp jacket. The pull in the pit of his stomach pushed him towards the front door without Jake even really realizing what he was doing. But he chalked it up to boredom and the anxiety of being knocked off his schedule.

He left the warmth of his room behind, almost crashing into a figure as he gently closed his door. An apology was on the tip of his tip tongue when a feeling of nausea washed over him. He felt dizzy, stomach turning. But it was gone between one blink and the next, along with the person. Jake got a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye followed by bells and laughter as the door to room 8 snapped closed.

The thunderous weather started to overload Jake's senses and the urge to get to the pub was greater. With his head down, the figure fading from his memory, Jake made his way across the parking lot.

A drink or two would kill some time, he thought to himself. At least it would help settle the uneasiness and put him to sleep.

The mist around the pub seemed to glow as Jake drew closer, but he was too busy keeping the rain out of his eyes to pay much mind to it. Warmth shot up his arm as he pushed the door open, a jingle filling the room.

The smell of liquor and smoke tainted with the slight scent of sweat greeted Jake as he stepped over the threshold of Kay & Elle. The low rumble of a banjo filled the space, bouncing off the wooden rafters, mixing with the low mumbles and chuckles of the clusters of people scattered around the room. It wasn’t a full house, but crowded enough given the storm outside.

With his footsteps sounding off the wood floors, Jake made his way to the dark-oak bar. He received a few stares and nods of acknowledgment as he walked by men and women alike, sitting at tables and standing by pool tables. As he walked past, he took in the stone walls, the empty stage in the back, the shimmering yellow lights, and the photos of fishermen, smiling ladies, and vast landscapes littered throughout the walls.

He took off his jacket, his heart having settled from the moment he entered the pub. Jake wasn’t a man who believed in faith, but in his bones, deep in his marrow, he knew this was where he was meant to be, for whatever reason.

“Well ain’t you a fresh face,” the elder man behind the bar remarked as Jake sat in one of the barstools, just a few seats down from a hunched over figure nursing a glass of whiskey.

Jake placed his wet jaket on the chair beside him as he chuckled. “Hard to be a stranger in this town.”

“Small-town life, my boy. Everyone knows everyone.” The man threw a towel over his shoulder, his dark hair pulled back in a low pony-tail, causing the wrinkles on his slim, tan face to be on full display. His green eyes sparkled in welcome and his smile pulled at the faded scar on his left cheek. “Passing through?”

The dim lights jumped and danced off the many bottles lining the wall behind the bar. A muted glow hugged the bar, the music changing to the beat of a fiddle.

“I am, but the storm took me off the road for the night,” Jake explained.

“You staying at the Beaumont?”

Jake nodded. “The woman, Vera, recommended I stop by for a drink.”

The words tasted bitter, full of half-truths and false tales. But Jake wasn’t sure why, just as he wasn’t sure how to explain his need to be sitting in the pub at that particular moment.

“That woman,” the elder man chuckled with a shake of his head. “She sends more business this way than any billboard ad ever could. Well, have a drink while you’re here…"

“Jake.”

The music skipped a beat as the fiddle played a harsh note. The air turned bitter and cold. Jake’s limbs urged him to run, screamed that he made a mistake, scolded him for giving his name so willingly. But it was a reflex; the word leaving his lips before he understood what was happening. An impulse came over him, the same one that pulled him to obey the man's demand and order a drink.

No one seemed to notice the odd behaviour, aside from the hunched over figure a few seats down. His depthless brown eyes flashed to Jake, grey hair falling across his pale, sweaty forehead. There was a look of pain and madness in those eyes. Jake opened his mouth to say something when a draft of beer appeared in front of him. And suddenly he couldn’t remember why his limbs felt tense or why there was a cold sweat on the back on his neck.

“Nice to meet ya, Jake,” the bartender smiled with a gleam in his bottle-green eyes. “Name’s Murphy.”

“Likewise,” Jake raised his drink before bringing the glass to his lips, downing half of it in a few gulps.

The hunched man tipped back the last of his whiskey, slamming the glass hard on the bartop.

“Murphy,” he spoke in a husky voice, like the sound of asphalt and gravel.

A flash of irritation, with just a hint of sadness, came over Murphy's face. He didn’t say a word as he quickly prepared another glass, sliding it gently in front of the stranger.

“Take it easy, Harold. That’s your third now.”

Harold grunted, shooting back half the glass without a word.

Murphy sighed, every other emotion but worry washing from his face for the smallest moment, before he turned back to Jake with a smile on his lips.

“So, where were you headed before the rain knocked you off track?”

After another smaller sip of beer, Jake explained his mountain travel plans and his desire to reach the great peak that waited for him at the end.

“Good on ya. Do it all now while you’re still young and can move about,” Murphy said with a chuckle. “This a solo trip? Or are you with someone special? Perhaps they’re waiting for you back in your room?”

“No,” Jake chuckled, ignoring the grunt of clear annoyance from the man a few seats down from him. “Just me.”

A glimmer appeared in the old man's eye. “So no one speical then? No sweetheart waiting for ya?”

Glass rattled as Harold slammed his empty drink back down on the bar.

Jake cast a sideways glance at the stranger. Restlessness rushed through him as he slowly sat up straighter. Tension gripped his limbs as Harold turned to look at him. Those unnaturally dark eyes shined with intensity. They held so much knowledge, so much pain, so much fury that Jake couldn’t look away.

“Don’t waste your time with such things, boy,” Harold grumbled, voice rough and firm. His brows were pulled together so tight they were touching, as the bar cast his face in shadows of back and grey. “Love is pointless.”

He said the word love with such hatred, Jake felt as if the stone structure surrounding them would cave in and collapse.

Murphy, for his part, looked just as on edge. It was a fact that did little to calm Jake's sudden nervousness.

“Harold,” he sighed. “Let’s take a moment-”

“There is one thing that is certain when it comes to love,” Harold continued, eyes gazing unblinkingly at Jake. “It is nothing but pain. Love is made up of pain and heartbreak and bitter ends. It is a useless and pointless part of the whole damn human existence.”

A hush fell over the bar, as if even the other guests could sense the mood Harold had brought about. The upbeat tone of the fiddle suddenly switched to a soulless wail. . A shiver ran up Jake’s spine and he begged his body to turn away, to dismiss the man and be done with it. But he couldn’t. His unmerciful gaze pulled him in and suddenly Jake was drowning in the scent of liquor and smoke and dead leaves and depthless seas.

“You fight so hard." Harold gripped his glass, and a crack started to appear. “You fight with all you have and give yourself completely and it's no good. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you do is good enough. Love is about fighting a losing battle and in the end, only one person suffers the consequences. And it's usually the one who fought the hardest.”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was firm, loud, booming over the music as Jake jumped back in his seat. He didn’t realize how intently he’d been listening to Harold. How he was hanging on to every word like it was air. Or how, while talking to the terrifying man, for the first time since entering the town, Higdon’s Harbour glowed with colour.

An angry, remorseless, pulsating red colour.

Harold held Jake's gaze for a moment longer, intense eyes cast in complete shadow, before turning back to the bar.

“Thanks for the advice,” Jake found himself saying, voice shaking more than he'd like to admit. He didn’t mean to speak, the words simply rushed out of him with an aftertaste of smoke.

Clearing his throat, Jake downed the last of his beer before pushing the glass towards Murphy for a refill.

A hush fell around them for just a few moments, the tension already starting to subside. Jake felt his shoulders drop as he slowly sipped his beer and Murphy slid Harold a glass of water. After some small talk with the old bartender, Jake felt himself able to breathe once more. His body started to relax, the fog lifting from his head. He was breaking the surface and forgetting all about the darkness of the ocean and the murdered limbs of the trees on the forest floor.

While on his third drink, Murphy started to get busy with the other parties of the bar. Tables started to ask for refills, and drenched couples walked through the door, the wind roaring behind them. He drifted more and more between the bar and the tables. And it was about that time that Jake decided he would soon be calling it a night.

“You shouldn’t have stopped, boy.”

Ice crawled up Jake’s spine at the sound of that sandpaper voice. Murphy was off to some seemingly remote corner of the bar. Jake couldn’t help but notice that every new body who walked in stayed far away from the bar, from him, and from Harold.

Jake gripped the tall draft in his hand, foam and condensation running through his numb fingers.

He turned to face Harold, those black soulless eyes dragging him into the abyss. He was in a freefall, too much rushed through him all at once. A thumping started at his left temple and his heart dropped to his stomach as he fell and fell and fell from the bowels of the sky through the open arms of the corpse-like trees.

“You shouldn’t have stopped,” Harold spat, teeth clenched and head hung low. “You should get out of this cursed town before they get you too. They know you’re here. They knew you’d be here before you knew you’d be here. They got to the rest of this damned town. They got her. Get out before they get you too, boy.”

Fear rooted Jake in place. Fear for what, he couldn’t tell. But in the back of his mind, in the depth of his soul, he knew Harold was right. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have stopped. Yet, the thought of leaving caused his heart to clench and spots to form behind his eyes. Without his control, he found his lips forming the words -

“Who are they?”

The lights flickered with the time of the thunder clashing outside. The fiddle faded out and the haunting strings of a violin floated through the room, accompanied by a soulful woman's wail.

He knew he shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t provoke this man. He should just pay his tab, get up, and leave. But it was unexplainable, much like the whole night had been. He simply couldn’t help himself.

Harold completely turned to Jake. The harsh lines on his face caught the glow of the dim lights. His eyes burned with unattainable wisdom and passion. Jake's heart started to race, limbs locking into place as he noticed the music slowed. Along with, somehow, every other body and soul in the bar. A haze filled the room, a mist blurring and engulfing everything that was not Jake and was not Harold. Even the storm seemed to hush, with only the woman's cry continuing on.

“Let me tell you a story, son.” Harold’s voice turned mystical, the words floating in the air between the two. “Cause I’ve lost my friends, my family, this whole damn town, and yet no one will believe me. They think I’m a nut-case, a man full of grief. But I ain’t, you hear? And maybe you’ll believe me. Maybe you won’t. But they took my wife-”

“Your wife is missing?”

Jake’s pulse jumped as Harold leaned in close, his blood-shot eyes burning crimson red. “For years now. Cause they took her.”

“They?” Jake repeated, feeling physically ill.

Harold nodded. “The fairies.”

He should have laughed. He should have backed off. His mind should have been yelling at him that the man was senile, crazy, insane. He should have bid him goodbye, called over Murphy, and been done with this place, this man. This man who was staring at him with all the earnestness in the world.

Fairies.

The word danced around in his head, bells and whistles suddenly joining in with the escalating violin. Suddenly, the whole town made all the sense in the world and yet, none at all.

“Fairies?” Jake spoke slow and steady. “They’re just folklore. A myth.”

Even as he said it, the words turned to dust on his tongue. He wanted to wash the taste out with his beer, but found he genuinely couldn’t move.

“The Harbour Fairies,” Harold whispered. “Nasty creatures. And if you believe they’re just a myth, you’re as foolish as the rest of them. If you believe there isn’t more to this world, that we’re the only beings here, you’re blin. These aren’t just some little buggers who pick your berries and sprinkle dust. They are savage, mischievous demons.”

Jake started to shake his head, mostly to clear the fog that had started to form. “I don’t-”

“We here grew up wearing our clothes inside out and carrying bread in our pockets to stop the little people from leading us astray,” Harold spoke with more urgency than Jake had heard all night, “But little good it did. Everyone was blinded by what was right in front of them. These creatures play tricks. Oh, they love tricks. And not the fun kind. No, the kind that leads you over a cliff or dead at the bottom of the sea. They are unpredictable forces of nature who lead you in the woods, and suddenly you're never heard of again.”

“And they got your wife.”

“They stole her,” Harold spat the words into the air. His gaze flicked towards the red-head who walked past them, beer in hand, before he spoke again. “They took her from me. Everyone here believes she ran away, but I know. I caught them you see, I saw it with my own two eyes. One day she was in the garden, the next…”

… she walked into the woods, never to be seen again. Jake knew because he saw it himself. He watched it play out in Harold’s aged eyes. And suddenly he was inserted into a story that was not his. He didn’t feel right; too tight in his skin, eyes unable to properly focus on the greys, blacks, and whites of the world. But he still watched.

A grass-stained seven year old boy cradled the arm of a pretty girl with messy blonde hair. They sat in a treehouse, feet dangling over the edge, kicking at the clouds. The girl had tear-tracks running down her cheeks and dead flowers stuck in her hair. She was biting her lip, nodding as the boy spoke.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” he whispered sternly.

“I didn’t mean to,” her lips trembled, gaze moving to anything but the boy before her. “It wasn’t my fault.”

The boy shook his head as he ran his hand over the forming bruise. “You gotta be more careful Cathy. What if something were to happen to ya?”

“Then let's get out of this town, Harry,” a seventeen-year old girl twirled in the headlights of an old pick-up truck. The waves crashed against the shore in the distance, the sun tenderly kissing the horizon goodbye. The girl’s blonde, messy braids whipped around her shoulder, dress bunched at her ankles. She stood before a brown haired boy, grass-stains on his jeans, leaning against the red truck. “Let’s pack up and leave after graduation next week.”

“And go where, Cathy?” The boy shook his head. “I have a job lined up on the boat and you have-”

“Nothing! I have nothing!” She threw her hands in the air. “I ain’t got nothing lined up. Just my next shift at the diner. I want to go to school, you know I do. But papa-”

“Don’t worry about your father,” the boy grabbed at the girls skirts, pulling her so close their hips touched. “I told you, I’ll protect you from your papa.”

The girl bit her lips, forest green eyes glancing over the boy's shoulder. Her face was tender but the look of caution never left. As if she wanted to believe the boy holding her but her heart refused to pay heed. “Promise?”

“I do.”

Applause thundered across the crowd, the waves beating against the rocky cliffs. The man lifted the woman's veil, tucking a piece of messy blonde hair behind her ear before gripping the back of her neck. He leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips. Whistles and wails filled the air, a screaming violin starting to play as the newly-weds walked down the aisle.

She held on her husband’s arm like a life-line, biting her lip as her father clapped the bride-groom on the shoulder. Her eyes darted around the crowd, the same look of caution from five years ago still masked her face.

It was a look that never left her face, a look that was forever present in the back on her eyes. It was the only thought Jake found he was able to form; the look of a woman who was scared. The look of a woman who was holding a secret.

And maybe she was, for that look stayed with her for all the years to come, Jake noticed. He watched Harold's and Catherine’s life play out before him, just as Harold described. The twenty plus years together. The moments of tender love, the moments of bitter fights. The squealing laughter and howling sobs. The funerals and the weddings, The slamming bottles and doors leading to nights together and alone. It wasn’t the best marriage, but what marriage is, Harold said.

They never had kids, their life centred around just the two of them, their fading love and the growing tension. Every second leading up to that moment, in a garden of muted yellows, reds, and oranges.

Flowers in her messy hair, a near fifty year old Catherine knelt before a bed of dirt. Sunglasses covered her eyes, dirt stained her knees, finger nails, and cheeks. She was silent as she worked.

A door slammed in the distance. “Catherine!”

The tension became electricity in the air. Catherine’s head snapped up as footsteps made their way to the backyard.

Jake noticed it at the exact moment she did. The wind switched directions, bells jingled off the tree tops, mystical laughter floated out from the forest on the other side of the garden.

Catherine turned slowly. The flower fell out of her hair. She tossed the sunglasses onto the ground and her bruised, deep green eyes glowed against the muted world. She walked towards the tree line, footfalls light. Laughter bubbled past her own lips and, between one step and the next, she was gone.

“... the forest swallowed her up and I knew they got to her.”

Jack was back in the bar. Everything rested as it had, and he himself wasn’t even sure if what he had just witnessed was real. Surely not, but the description and details felt real, tangible. As if, for a moment, he truly stood in Harold's memories.

“The forest was the only way out,” Harold’s eyes were wide, urgent, and the brightest things in the whole bar. “It was either through the house or the forest. And she’d been acting out for years. Always in the garden, out on her own. They got her, it's the only answer. But,” a pause, eyes shifting. “I know where she is.”

Jake swallowed, throat dry as sandpaper. “You do?”

“An island just a few miles out in sea. A rocky cliff, that's where they stay,” Harold nodded, talking more to himself than Jake. “She's there, with them. I’m taking my boat out tomorrow morning. I’m going to get her and-”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was enough to make Jake jump back. He never noticed how close he had been leaning towards the old man. Just as he never realized how tightly he was holding his warm, untouched third glass of beer. He pulled his hand back, wiping it on his jeans as the pulsing in his left temple grew stronger.

As he looked around the pub, Jake took in all the faces looking his way. Eyes bounced between him and Harold, whispers and murmurs accompanying the flute and violin pair. It was only when Murphy loudly, purposely, cleared his throat that the inhabitants of the bar started to look as if they weren’t listening.

“Harold,” Murphy spoke softly, placing a hand on Harold’s tense shoulder. “I think it's time to head home, friend.”

There was a fight in Harold’s eyes, Jake could see it. That bloodshot, haunting, soulless gaze held a fire and life to them, ignited by the hatred for creatures that couldn’t exist. But the moment Murphy spoke, the moment Harold looked around the pub and saw all the eyes on him, the fire vashined. It was as quick as releasing a breath, there one minute and gone the next.

Harold held Jake’s gaze. There was still so much left unsaid, unanswered, and Jake found he didn’t want him to go. His mind and soul craved to know more about fairies and their secret world.

A laughter echoed off the rafters, and Jake realized for the first time that night how terrified and exposed he truly was.

“Tomorrow morning,” Harold grunted as he stood, the invitation loud and clear. Jake didn’t understand why Harold was inviting him along but it somehow made all the sense in the world.

With no other parting words, with not so much as a glance at any other living soul in the pub, Harold walked out. Back hunched as he disappeared over the threshold, rain and wind howling as they swallowed him whole.

A hush carried on throughout the pub for a few heartbeats. Until the flute faded back into the plucking of a guitar. Someone cheered, laughter followed, and soon the lively atmosphere of the bar was back once more. As if the haunted man with an implausible story wasn’t present a few moments before.

“Is it true?” Jake found himself asking, tongue sliding across his chapped lips. He turned in his chair, facing Murphy, who now stood behind the bar. He hoped his shaking hand wasn't noticeable as he raised his beer to his lips. “About those… about the fairies.”

The word tasted like strawberries and metal on his lips.

Murphy glanced up for the glass he was cleaning, scar strained across his cheek as he pursed his lips. “They’re urban folktales. Myths passed down through all the generations of the Harbour.”

“And his wife?”

Murphy paused. He let out a sign, placed the glass under the bar before turning to Jake. Worry and concern shinned in his eyes.

“She left him,” he explained softly, mindful of the ears around. “Packed up and left, just like that.”

“Just like that?” Jake raised an eyebrow at Murphy’s hesitation.

“There were… rumours about cheating and drunken fights but…” Murphy took a breath, crossing his arms on the bartop as he leaned in close. “Look, Harry's a good guy, difficult but good. Our families know each other well. And Cathy… well she had a hard life with her father. She wasn’t all there before she left and Harold took it hard. He still won't get help and has himself convinced the Harbour Fairies are behind it. Says he’s seen things with his own eyes that explains it.”

Jake swallowed, leg bouncing restlessly. “He’s going out tomorrow morning-”

“Yeah,” Murphy nodded solemnly. “We’ve tried to stop him, talk sense. But he won’t listen. And he’s at the age and point now where we've given up - what can ya do.”

A lot. Jake glanced around the pub, taking in the numerous people laughing, chatting, drinking. He didn’t know these people, he shouldn’t judge, but they could be doing something to help that man. He may be talking crazy but… was he?

The more Jake studied the bar, the more it felt like a fog was lifting. The pieces were falling into place. The math was suddenly starting to make sense. And Jake refused to acknowledge the answers that were before him.

“Where is she then?” Jake asked, breathing through his nose to calm his racing heart. “His wife. Catherine.”

“No one knows,” Murphy admitted. “She got out of this town, that's for sure. And no one has heard from her since.”

“No one checks in?” Jake couldn’t hide the disbelief from his voice. “No one’s tried to find out where she is or what happened.”

Murphy watched Jake for an uncomfortable moment. His eyes looked him over, mouth twisting as if to say something. But then his lips shut, he blinked, and he shrugged before pointing to the still full glass in front of Jake. “You want another?”

Jake's breath caught in his throat. Claws bit into his spine. His skin felt too tight as a breeze brushed the back of his neck, red flashing in his vision. The room was too small and too big all at once. He didn’t know why he was feeling such a way or what had brought it on. But his gut knew it was because of this town.

And he knew he wanted to get out.

The door to the pub shut as a couple walked out, but the noise still rattled against Jake’s bones as he shook his head.

“No,” he stood up, hand shaking as he pulled out some bills and tossed them on the bar. “I think I’ll call it a night actually.”

Murphy picked up the money, either not noticing the odd behaviour or choosing to ignore it as he smiled. “Well, Mr. Jake, I hope you enjoy the rest of your short stay. Maybe someday we’ll get to see you passing through the Harbour again.”

“Who knows,” Jake gave a nervous chuckle, “It seems anything is possible.”

He left the pub in shambles. The smell of ashes and fowl fish followed Jake as he made his way to the door. Tables were knocked off centre, chairs were tipped over. The banjo played too loud and slightly off key. Men and women alike stumbled over one another, drinks spilled onto the floor. Even Murphy’s slicked back pony was a mess, falling into his dark, sweat covered face.

The illusion was breaking, the corners being pulled back to show something ugly and monstrous. Something those who inhabited Higdon’s Harbour refused to acknowledge.

Jake stepped over the threshold, blood pounding through his veins. He welcomed the rain beating down on his face, the wind biting through his damp jacket and nipping at his icy skin. The door to Kay & Elle closed with a thunderous bang. The banjo and hysterical laughter was replaced by sorrowful wind and wailing rain.

He stood there for a moment, face turned towards the sky as he tried to will air into his lungs.

He needed to get out of this town.

Whatever force pulled Jake towards the pub earlier was controlled by a demon. He didn’t know what purpose it served him, to hear about Harold and the fairies… fairies that shouldn’t, didn’t, couldn’t exist…

Someone squealed and giggled across the parking lot. With a jump, heart in his throat, Jake started to make his way back to the safety of his room.

And he was almost there, just a mere few steps away, when his body suddenly felt as if it were stretched too thin. Nausea overcame him and his head spun. The rain pierced his skin like devilish needles and the wind sang a woman's lullaby in his ear. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, thunder crashing as someone bumped into his shoulder.

It was an innocent tap, the woman clearly too captivated by the lady on her arm to notice him. But it did all the damage in the world.

“Oh!” She gasped, the sound like a thousand bells. She grabbed his arm, full-lips pulled back in an apologetic smile as all the air vanished from Jake's chest. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn't breath, the pulsing in his left temple was suddenly magnified by ten. The warmth of her hand on his arm spread through his whole body. He no longer felt the wind and rain beating against him, he was too allured by her auburn curls, high-cheekbones, and hazel eyes that glistened like moss coated in morning dew.

She was the most hauntingly beautiful creature he had ever beheld. And every part of his being begged him to run.

“Are you okay, Jake?” Her partner spoke up. They were holding one another so close, arms locked tight, it was as if they were one. Gravity pulled them together; where one moved the other followed. A simple stranger such as himself could not doubt their adoration and love.

Jake ripped his gaze away from the red-headed woman and looked at her partner. He took in her slim face, the dirty dress, and messy blonde hair pinned back with a flower.

It was then that Jake noticed that both women were completely dry.

It was then that Jake realized they knew his name.

It was then that his eyes met the blonde’s green ones, and he saw it all.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” a seven year old boy with grass stains on his knees told the six year old girl with a bruised arm.

“I didn’t mean to,” she trembled, and Jake realized she wasn’t avoiding the boys gaze. She was looking at someone else. She was looking at the young auburn haired creature standing a few feet away, invisible to the boy and eyes tense with worry. “It wasn't my fault.”

Be more careful, the boy told her at the exact moment the creature met the girl's gaze and said, I know. I’ll protect you.

“I told you,” said a seventeen year old boy as he gripped a sixteenth year old's skirts. “I’ll protect you from your papa.”

You know he can’t, Cathy, The auburn creature said, standing over the boy's shoulder as she held the girl’s green-eyed gaze. I’ll protect you from them both.

The blonde trembled. “Promise?”

With all the power of the forest and the sea. I promise.

She was there, always there. She did all she could to keep her promise. But it seemed even she was limited in her abilities.

Jake watched Harold and Catherine's life play out once more. As the twenty plus years faded together, the moments of tender love vanished. The fights were more frequent, more aggressive than Harold let on. He stumbled home in the dark more than once, eyes bloodshot and words slurred. There were many years of fights and screams. Fists were thrown and bones were broken. And the red-head was there through it all, helping as best as she could. She cared for Cathy, tried to protect her, but it wasn’t enough.

Run away with me, Cathy. It's the only way.

And run she did.

It wasn’t a laugh that called Catherine to the forest that day in the garden as Harold’s raging voice bellowed off the walls of the house. No, it was not a laugh at all, but her name, spoken in bells and chimes, love and warmth.

Catherine stepped over the threshold of the forest, laughter on her lips, as she jumped into the arms of the beautiful red-headed fairy.

She didn’t leave, wasn’t taken. She willingly left her delusional old life for one of magic and wonder and respect.

Jake stumbled back a step, shaking off the hand of the creature before him. His head was spinning, his stomach turned and his vision blurred as he truly saw the two ladies before him. As he noticed the glow around them, the electricity that danced in their wake.

This town, these people… how could anyone let a woman suffer as Catherine did and not do anything? How could they not see what was right in front of them?

And these creatures, the fairies, Harold painted them as the demons and yet, this fairy was Catherine’s saving grace, her lover, her protector...

They shared a look, the two lovers, before turning back to him. They didn’t say another word as the fairy smiled at Jake, white teeth flashing, and blew him a kiss. They turned to leave, Catherine giving him a wink over her shoulder, before disappearing into their hotel room. Right next door to his.

Jake stumbled as fast as he could to his room, slamming the door behind him as he tried to catch his breath and will his mind to understand what the hell was going on.

It took him a few moments to realize, for the first time all night, he was completely dry.

----------

Light had yet to transform the morning sky when Jake sped out of the Beaumont Motel parking lot. The rain had stopped and the winds were whisked away. Grey clouds lingered in the sky, suffocating the rising sun on the horizon.

What was once a piece of art to Jake was now the ugliest thing he had ever seen.

The mountain reached its claws to the sky, holding all the trees and buildings in the palm of its hand. The roads swerved in and out of its fingers, weather-worn homes running up the forest-speckled hills, trying to escape. The ocean leaped for joy as it played with the rocky cliffs, trying to capture and destroy anything it could reach. The boats bobbed in the water, begging to be let free, while the docks pointed their fingers to the open sea, luring in any desperate and lonely souls to the corrupt town.

The ocean was painted an angry blue against the grey light. The white-capped waves pounded against anything in their way. What Jake once thought was a place of harmony, he realized now, was an illusion.

The image had been shattered, broken beyond repair.

The land had won after all, he realized now. It had conquered Higdon’s Harbour and all within it. There was no agreement, no compromise to live in peace. For nothing could truly defeat nature.

The land cackled against the last remains of the raging storm winds. For it knew the game it was playing; it knew who truly ruled the town. And it was not man.

Jake made it out before the first kitchen light flickered on. Before the inhabitants of Higdon’s Harbour woke and started about their delusional lives. His heart pounded in his chest the whole way, hands shaking as they gripped his steering wheel. Even when he passed the city line, his body refused to relax. Not as the sound of chimes echoed on and on and on in his head.

By the time Jake remembered Harold, he was long gone. And he was too far out to turn back. Too far out to hear the news, or see the headline of the Higdon’s Harbour newspaper that morning. And to hear the otherworldly laugh that accompanied it.

Man Crashes Boat Off Rocky Cliffs In Desperate Search Of His Wife.

#oringinal character #original writing #original story #fairies #tog #acotar #fanfiction #tog fanfic #tog fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #cas writing #personal

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atsuumus · 3 years

Text

risks

pairing - ushijima wakatoshi x reader

synopsis -

word count - 1.05k

a/n - i’m sorry this is so late !! i was a little busy ,, i hope you enjoy anon ! thank you for requesting :< it really made my day. feel free to tell me if this wasn’t what you wanted or if there’s something you’d like changed !

at this point, you’re pretty certain that the entirety of shiratorizawa academy knows of the glaringly obvious crush you have on resident volleyball ace, ushijima wakatoshi. you’re kind of used to the vaguely pitying gazes your peers throw you in the hallways, knowing of your very public, very obvious, very fruitless attempts at showing him your affections.

you have tried everything. you’ve gone through multiple websites and magazine articles with titles like ‘ show him you like him ! ’ and ‘ 10 ways to confess !! ( without confessing ) ’, tried every technique they’ve offered you, asked friends, family, and sometimes even utter strangers for tips and ideas, but nothing has worked. the bento you left on his table, everything inside shaped like hearts, was accepted with a thank you, eaten, and then never talked about again. the love letters you left on his table replied to with post-it notes that had something along the lines of ‘ thank you for your kind words ’ written along the bottom. every single compliment you pay him in person has failed to fluster him - no matter what you say, he responds with a sincere ‘ thank you ’ and sometimes pays you a compliment back, but you know that he views everything you do and say platonically.

tendou has patted your back apologetically so many times that you think your uniform blouse now bears a permanent mark in the shape of his hand.

the worst part is that you know that he genuinely doesn’t see that you have a crush on him. he’s a very blunt, honest person - one of the reasons why you like him so much - and would probably reject you straight to your face if he knew. it’s a blessing and a curse. a blessing, because it means that you might still have a chance, but a curse, because you have done everything in your power to show him that you are interested in him in a romantic way, yet he still hasn’t picked up on it.

well. . . almost everything.

straight-up confessing to him is the one thing you haven’t tried. it is your last resort, the riskiest choice and the one that requires the most courage. a confession would either free you from the never-ending hell that is trying to subtly hint at the unbelievably oblivious ushijima, but it could also hand him the ability to shatter your heart into a million tiny pieces with just a few words. however, it is quickly becoming more and more apparent that it is also the only way the stoic male will ever get the hint, so you suppose that you’ll just have to bite the bullet and do it.

this is how you find yourself standing in front of the doors to the gym, waiting patiently for the object of your affections to come out. your own club activities ended not too long ago, and you figured the volleyball club would be packing up soon. you were right - you can see tendou picking up the balls around the court, a ball of bright red bobbing up and down next to a very familiar silhouette. it’s almost as if he senses you peeking in through the window, because the boy turns around and spots you, shooting you a discreet grin like he knows what you’re here to do.

other than them, though, the gym seems strangely empty.

tendou disappears into the storage room with an armful of blue and yellow volleyballs, and you take a deep breath. this is it. you have two pints of ben and jerry’s stored away in your fridge just in case. you’re ready. you can do this.

you open the door to the gym, pink already dusting your cheeks as you gather all the courage in your body. the first call of his name is soft, timid, barely more than a whisper, and he obviously doesn’t hear it. you bite your lip before trying again.

“ ushijima ! “

this time, he hears you. he turns, a question in his eyes, and you beckon to him shyly, motioning for him to come outside.

you think you have never felt more fear than when he complies, looking more than a little confused. your heart slams against your ribcage when he steps outside before sliding the door shut and turning to face you expectantly, waiting for you to say whatever it is you had presumably called him outside to say.

“ i. . . um. . . ” now that you’re really about to do it, you realise you don’t quite know what to say. should you just keep it short and simple ? or maybe you should do that whole speech you practiced in the mirror. all the articles run through your mind all at once, and then it occurs to you that it really isn’t too late to run away. you need to calm down.

you take another deep breath, holding it before letting it go, releasing all the tension in your frame as you do so. eight letters, three words. even if you get your heart broken here, it’s okay. you have two pints of ben and jerry’s ready for you at home.

so you look him in the eye with a determination you never knew you had, and you stop fidgeting with the sleeves of your blazer. it’s getting late, and the sky’s already dark - the days never last very long in the winter, and the cold paints your pink cheeks red. ushijima’s expression shifts, though you can’t quite identify it.

“ i like you, ” you begin, and while your voice wavers a little and your cheeks are warm, you continue. “ romantically. i have a crush on you. you don’t have to say anything, but i just wanted you to know. ”

there’s a moment of silence. you’re just about to run away, taking his lack of reaction as a rejection, but then he smiles. under the light of the moon and what leaks through the windows of the gym, his eyes press into crescents and his lips curve upwards. it reassures you, somehow, makes you relax again, catching onto the hidden meaning behind the smile.

you think you’ll take more risks in the future.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #yu writes #eagle boys #requested

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its-bound-to-get-loud · 3 years

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Michael Clifford hair timeline

As some of you might know, this blog started from the frustration of missing certain things in the 5SOS fandom. I’m a 1D fan, I’m used to seeing masterposts about anything and everything. That’s very much not the case in the 5SOS fandom. So I figured, if it’s not here, I might as well go and do it myself. A while back I came to the conclusion there doesn’t seem to be a proper detailed timeline of Michael’s hair journey. So of course, I decided to make one. I heavily underestimated the amount of time this would cost, but I (mostly) had fun making this. So, now I would like to present you with the finished result. It should have every hair color ever in here, but if I somehow missed something or got something wrong, please let me know. I’ve tried my best to be as thorough as possible, but I only became a fan in 2020 and basically had to work my way through 5SOS history for this.

I used Michael’s instagram as a guide and filled in the gaps with interviews, tour diaries, etc. Thankfully he documented most of his hair changes on instagram, which made my job a little easier. So let’s get going!

I have combined 4 pictures into a collage, to prevent having to post close to 50 pictures below each other. The order of every collage is left to right, top to bottom.

So we start with Michael’s natural hair color,. This is a picture I found on Google, I have no idea about the exact date. But this is his natural hair before he started dying it. The next picture is the very first time he dyed his hair, this was a red-ish brown. This picture was posted on January 2 2013. Then later on in the same month he decided to dye his hair darker, to a chocolate brown, which he posted a picture of on January 27. His first bold color happens about a month later. On March 30 2013 he posted this picture of himself with dark blue hair and some lighter blue highlights in his fringe.

The next change comes June 19 2013. When the blue has been mostly removed, you can tell there’s some blue left in the fringe from the highlights, and the rest of his hair still has a blue-green tinge to it. This picture is a screenshot from the 5SOS vs. food video, Michael did post a picture of it on instagram captioned: “when I went blonde for a day”, but the color of that one is quite saturated. So is a better representation. After that, we move on to galaxy hair! The first picture with this hair was posted on instagram on June 19 2013. I thought this was a separate color from the 3rd picture in this collage, but it’s possible it’s the light playing tricks. Picture 3 was posted on June 26, exactly a week after the previous one. On July 6 we move on to the next change, bleach blonde! I think this is the first time he bleached his whole hair. Since the previous color’s were all darker than his own hair, he wouldn’t necessarily have needed bleach. As seen in the first picture of this collage, his hair wasn’t bleached yet. Except for the highlighted fringe. I assume a color removing product was used to get most of the blue dye out, because he said he went blonde “for a day”, which doesn’t indicate fading to me.

The bleach blonde seem to stay for a while, because the next change is almost 3 months later. September 28 2013 brings the reveal of the smurf blue hair. This obviously fades over time, leaving a light, almost pastel blue color as seen in the screenshot I included from their Australia/New Zealand tour diary, opening for One Direction. As October 21 comes around we get a brand new color, bright pink! This faded into a pastel pink as can be seen in the screenshot from this thank you video, posted on November 24.

Up next is reverse skunk, as posted on instagram on November 26 2013. This seems to last a good while, because the next change doesn’t come until 2014, judging by this twitcam from January 18 where the reverse skunk hair is still present. February 10, is when this picture of the purple hair was posted. Moving on to March 21, we get dark red, or maybe dark brown with red highlights, it’s hard to pinpoint what exactly this color is. There is no instagram picture for this one, so I’ve used a screenshot from the 5SOS Livestream to show this one. While writing this I discovered in this video, posted on March 13. where his hair was also this color already. The 4th screenshot from the Don’t Stop video, to demonstrate how long their hair lasted. The video was released May 18 2014. So I’m assuming it was filmed somewhere in (late) April.

The next hair color in line is brown, the picture in this collage was posted to on May 18. However, going back through Michael’s instagram it seems like he already had this color at the start of the There’s No Place Like Home tour in Sydney, on April 30 2014. It’s likely he dyed it right before the start of tour. The next change comes a little quicker, the earliest I could pinpoint this brown/blonde combo is May 18 at the Billboard music awards 2014. I can’t pinpoint, when exactly he got it done, but I’m assuming it was close before the BBMA’s. Moving on, we’re getting to the iconic green hair era. Again it’s hard to pinpoint when he exactly got it. There’s only 1 picture of it on his instagram, which was uploaded in July. The picture I used is from the Capital Summertime Ball 2014, held on June 21. The website describes it as “his new green hair”. So I’m assuming this is where he debuted it. After green we get this mystery lilac type color. I only found it in this Target Prank video on the 5SOS Youtube channel. Since they are promoting 5SOS1, which was released June 27, 2014, the video can be narrowed down to late June, early July of 2014. That’s as close as I could get it. I even went back to check if maybe they pre-filmed this in february/march and this was the faded purple hair, but the timeline still holds up.

September 1 2014 is when we see a new hair color appear on instagram. For (what appears to be) the video of Good Girls Michael bleached his hair to a white blonde. A better picture is the screenshot from the Good Girls video I included. The next change we see is on September 4 at the 5SOS performance for the iTunes festival 2014. This means that either he bleached his hair a while before September 1 or it was just a transition before the red with the orange undertone. This color fades throughout September judging by the pictures on instagram. I probably should have included one in here, but you can easily find them if you look for them. However on September 29 it seems the color got a refresh, looking nice and bright again.

The first picture in this collage, posted December 17 2014, shows the hair fading again. Then on December 18, at the People Magazine Awards the hair seems refreshed again. It looks to me as if the color has a slightly less orange undertone as well. But that’s hard to determine from 1 picture. The next picture, posted February 4 2015 shows the red has once again faded. After the red he moves on to this purple color. The first time we see it on instagram is February 18 in a video from the studio. The picture used for illustration was posted on February 27.

A better view of the violet/purple hair can be seen in the screenshot from the Japan Tour Diaries part 1. In part 2 you can already see the color fading again. The next picture, posted February 28 2015 shows and even more drastic fade, where his hair has turned almost blonde again. Then around March 15 his hair goes fully white blonde again. At the start of the ROWYSO tour in Portugal, May 4, Michael’s hair is still blonde. However 2 days later in Spain, on May 6, he seems to be back to a violet/blue color, like he had previously.

Then May 24 2015 we move to the next change, (jet) black hair (sorry, it had to be done). On July 16 a touch of color is brought into the hair, with addition of a few colorful streaks in his fringe. right on time for the start of the next leg of the ROWYSO tour that starts in Las Vegas. On July 23 he seems to have added a feather extension in the mix. This may have just been a temporary thing, because I can’t find any further evidence of this beyond the 1 instagram picture. Then August 29 brings a drastic change. From black we move back to blonde.

The blonde seems to last for quite some time. Judging by this performance of Hey Everybody, his hair was still blonde on November 11 2015 (the video was uploaded on the day of the performance, I checked). But then November 22 brings us red hair at the American Music Awards. Judging by other pictures on his instagram this seems to be a more true (less orange) red than in 2014. The red slowly fades, first to a more orange toned color in Bali (picture posted January 2 2016). And eventually it fades all the way to blonde wint a soft hint of red/pink in the 3rd picture, posted January 25 2016. Shortly after he premieres a teal hair color at the G’day USA red carpet on January 28.

The teal color sticks around for a while, even during the first leg of the SLFL tour. The last I saw of it was on March 12 2016, at the Philippines show. Then in between the Asian and Euopean leg the color changes from teal to brown, as seen at the Sheffield SLFL show on April 5. Then in the break between their last Dublin show (April 27) and their Vienna show (May 12) he bleaches his hair again. After this the era of Michael frequently coloring his hair seems to be done. He stays blonde, at some point he grows it out until only the long parts of his hair are still blonde. As can be seen in this picture posted on October 16 2017. Then at the start of the Meet You There Tour in Japan (August 2 2018) the colored hair makes a brief return with this pink moment. It doesn’t seem to last long however, since I can’t find a lot about it after Japan. So it may have been a temporary thing.

October 9 2018 he posts the first picture in this collage. It’s very possible this is faded pink from the previous picture. Or maybe he dyed it a lighter shade later on. After this the colored hair stops, but we do occasionally get various shades of blonde. The second picture, from November 16 2018, shows a caramel tone to his hair. In the third picture, posted on October 21 2018, we see sort of a dirty blonde. We end this timeline the way we started, back to natural hair. because of quarantine the bleached blonde grew out and eventually disappeared once he cut it. So we have come full circle. We started with natural hair and we are ending it with natural hair. If we get any more changes in the future I will be sure to add them to the timeline.

Finally, a few facts, for fun.

In total, Michael has had 29 color changes in a span of roughly 8 years.*

He’s had the most colors in 2013 and 2014 (both years he’s had 8 different colors)

The orange red was the color he had the longest, 150 days to be precise (based on the information available).

* Not counting fades or the “blonde for a day. Since they are part of 1 color or were just used to transition to another color. Also not counting the various shades of bleached blonde in the last collage, since it’s hard to tell if they are actually different, or if it’s light. I did count the transition from blonde to natural.

#5 Seconds Of Summer #5SOS #Michael Clifford #hair timeline #Michael hair

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