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#Ti and Tiny Friends and Family Hustle
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WIBTA if I didn’t let my friend bring their partner to social events?
We are all in our 30s and all trans/NB/queer. My friend (B) and I have known each other nearly 20 years, and over those years they’ve had a rough dating history. They’ve had several emotionally and mentally abusive or neglectful partners, further details about that I won’t give here. I’ve met most of them and they’ve always disliked me for various reasons (usually they were just jealous of the place I held in their life).
Recently though, B seems to have found someone who makes them happy (we’ll call them T) and T treats them better than their previous partners. Which is great! I’m happy for B. But I find T insufferable.
Granted, I don’t have to see T very often, but when I do its always uncomfortable.
The first time I met T they trauma dumped immediately. In the first half hour I knew all about their horrible family but couldn’t tell you any hobby or interest they had. We were in a very public place and I didn’t feel it was the most appropriate topic to get to know someone, but I tried to relate with my own stories all the same. However, T always had to “one up” every story I told. it felt like a “whose childhood was worse” competition.
The second time we all hung out T ignored me completely, really only hanging around and talking to B. Since it was B’s birthday I didn’t really mind at all. Plus, we were at a beercade so everyone was kinda off doing their own thing. But even when we all sat down they just kinda threw looks my way but didnt say a word to me.
But most recently I had hosted a halloween party (it was only 8 folks so tiny party) where B and T both showed up. When T asked me how work was going I started with what I felt was a normal “Ah yeah, it sucks but—” and before I could say anything else they spoke over me to say
“Yeah you’ve mentioned you hate your job every time I’ve seen you so thats sort of my only impression of you :/ ”
(a possibly important side note: B and T are both doing things that they enjoy but have to hustle a bit to make ends meet whereas I have a full time retail job through which i have insurance so leaving isnt as easy for me since I have more tied up in my job than just a paycheck)
This really pissed me off, as not only is being interrupted a huge pet peeve, but there are aspects of my job I enjoy. I just never got to talk about them because the conversation would either divert or we would just stop talking altogether. Also the way they came across felt pretty judgmental.
T then proceeded to spend the rest of the evening talking about everything from the movie to the snacks with therapy speak and trauma processing. (ex: I think I’m locked into this movie because it might’ve been a safe haven for me during my childhood and I just dont remember watching it but I can feel its importance to me) And only ever to B, never engaging with anyone else.
(another note: they are not the only one at the party with anxiety. two of my other friends have severe social anxiety and while maybe a little awkward were still able to hold casual conversations. no one was a stranger to anyone at the party)
This also meant that I didn’t get to spend any time with B during the party either, which was a shame cause I see them so rarely.
I understand that trauma processing is important and its great if you have someone in your life that can help you. It does not need to happen every where all the time. And I’m worried that B might be getting taken advantage of like they have in the past (in the sense that they have to do all the emotional legwork in the relationship and get very little of that effort back).
I’m tired of catering to this attitude and I don’t enjoy being around them, so I no longer want to involve them in group events I host.
would that make me an asshole?
What are these acronyms?
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flower power: part 1
summary: steve falls for the flower shop girl one petal at a time, but every rose has her thorns.
pairing: s.h. x fem!reader
warnings: angsty beginning, fluff, reader’s family is lower to middle class, flower shop au, no upside down and mall doesn’t burn down
A/N: please do not steal my moodboard. i made it with my whole heart !! my nickname in real life amongst my college friends is flower power because of how many floral dresses and claw clips i wear and i just love flowers 🌼🌷
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the flower shop was your happy place. the beautiful blooms of vibrant pinks, yellows, oranges, and reds were instant mood lifters after a draining day at school. you were able to get a part-time job at the local Hawkins flower shop inside the new starcourt mall working afternoons to make a little pocket money so you could go explore the mall without feeling left out in the crowds of teenage girls your age with armfuls of shopping bags from the Gap, Sears, and other name brand stores. you were also outgrowing your clothes that you’d had since freshman year of high school. the last time you’d gotten new clothes was three years ago since money’s been tight, and all of your outgrown clothes become hand-me-downs for your younger siblings. this new sense of independence at being able to buy yourself the clothes you wanted was so freeing, but you also still frequented the donation stores like goodwill and salvation army for good deals on functional clothing. you’d been able to find a handful of floral dresses for cheap that you absolutely adored.
a pretty pink floral patterned dress swished around your knees as you hustled around the tiny shop, gathering bouquets for customers. a faded apron sat tied around your waist, pockets full of petals that had fallen off the bouquets. you were in your element, enjoying your work.
when the business died down for the night, you closed up shop, hung your apron up, walked out of the mall, and headed home to your family. ever since you recently moved to Hawkins, dinners together became a tradition, meant to keep the familial intimacy in the midst of everyone’s busy lives. you loved them, being able to spend time with your family was a blessing that you didn’t take for granted, no matter how tired you were at the end of the day.
the next day, you put on a similar floral dress from yesterday and picked up the pretty purple scrunchie that you had just bought at the mall, pleased that you looked put together. you grabbed your bag off the desk chair in your room, grabbed a pop-tart from the pantry, hugged your mother goodbye, and walked the short distance to the bus stop. as you stood in line, you were patiently waiting for your turn to get on the bus when a taller kid shoved you behind him aggressively. you knew it wouldn’t be worth retaliating so you merely brushed your dress off to soothe yourself and carried on.
none of your friends rode the bus because they had their own cars or they lived a little further from you so they couldn’t give you rides, which meant that the ride to and from school was the worst because it was so lonely. the kids on the bus were ruthless too. if you so much as looked at them weird, they’d verbally and sometimes physically harass you for no reason other than the high they got off of making someone feel inferior. this led you to not speaking or looking at anyone on the bus in fear of being attacked.
when you got to school, you were teased relentlessly by carol and tommy for looking like a ‘grandma’ in your floral dresses. you never really paid them any attention because you noticed they were never very happy, which meant they wanted someone else to take their anger out on. you were an easy target, sweet, kind, smart, quiet. you didn’t answer any of their taunts, keeping your head down.
“hey!” carol sneered, grabbing your arm in a grip so tight you knew there would be indents left from her manicured nails. “didn’t you hear us? or are you that much of a grandma that your hearing is bad too?” she and tommy giggled at their own stupid joke at your expense.
you pried her hand off you, rolling your eyes as you walked away.
“you don’t get to walk away, grandma!” you stopped in your tracks and turned around, a sassy retort fresh on your tongue just itching to strike.
“do you have any idea how absolutely ridiculous you sound? i mean, honestly, ‘grandma’? that’s the best you can come up with based off my clothes? it’s a floral dress. at least i have a sense of style. you’re just jealous that i dress classier than you do,” you snickered, pleased with your self. “bye, now,” you smiled and turned on your heel to head to class, leaving carol embarrassed and furiously stuttering for a comeback while tommy tried to make her feel better.
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steve harrington had been making some major changes in his life. ever since his break-up with nancy wheeler and graduating, he had been cutting out toxic people in his life, like carol and tommy. he never liked when they made fun of genuinely kind people; it always rubbed him the wrong way when they targeted you, especially. he didn’t know anything about you because your friends were not his friends. at least, they weren’t before.
robin buckley had become your best friend over the past few months of being in the same class. she was very kind, witty, and never made fun of you. she was bullied right alongside you, which made her relatable.
“hey, y/n, wanna hang out with me and my other friend this weekend?” robin asked at lunch, taking a huge bite out of her sandwich. she intentionally withheld steve’s name, knowing you would probably say no if you knew it was him.
“yeah, sure! where and when?” you responded, excited to finally have found a true friend and possibly another.
“we work at the ice cream shop Scoops Ahoy in the mall until 5 on saturday, so we could go catch a movie or something after?”
“oh! you work at the mall too? i work in the little flower shop there. it’s called Precious Petals. i work there in the afternoons after school. i’m usually off on weekends, so i’ll double-check and let you know,” you smiled.
“perfect! that’s like, so amazing that you work in the mall too! i saw it on the map. it’s over by us i think! this is so cool. i love that i won’t have to be forced to only be in the company of the dingus,” she babbled dramatically.
“dingus? who’s that?” you quirked your brow, confused at her words.
robin explained “he’s just a complete dork and will most definitely flirt with you. feel free to let him down,” she grinned, patting her shoulder as she left the table to throw away her trash. “see you tomorrow!” robin called over her shoulder.
you sat there slightly confused, anxious, and excited to meet this ‘dingus’. boys don’t flirt with you; you’re convinced it’s because of how harassed you are by bullies and how no guy wants to get in the middle of that. you hope that this ‘dingus’ is an exception.
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you were worn out from being bullied at school, so going to the mall to work your job was a reprieve from your dreadful day. you stopped by the mall map, locating scoops ahoy, and deciding to get an ice cream before your shift to make your day better.
you wandered into the brightly lit and nautical-themed shop, eyes darting around to take in everything. robin wasn’t working today because she had band practice, so you just went in with the sole purpose of getting a strawberry ice cream with sprinkles to ease your stress. while looking around, you watched the interactions between the cashier and a gaggle of pre-teens in front of you. they finished their discussion with him and then ran out with mischievous smirks on their faces.
steve saw you wander around, looking at everything. he thought you were adorable in that dress, ready to put on his best harrington charm without robin present to make fun of him for striking out. he quickly tossed off the white hat, mumbling ‘screw company policy’ under his breath as he approached the counter to help you.
“ahoy! would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? i’ll be your captain, name’s steve,” he startled you from your observations.
“oh, hi, uh, can i get a single scoop of strawberry ice cream with rainbow sprinkles, please?” you requested.
“of course, you can. could i get a name for the order?” steve flirted, trying to get more information about you.
“y/n,” you obliged.
“y/n, pretty name for a pretty girl,” he winked, ringing you up at the register.
“thank you,” you felt heat rise up your face.
“would you be interested in hanging out with me this weekend?” he took his shot.
“i would, but i’ve already made plans with a friend to hang out. i’m sorry,” you wanted to hang out with him. he seemed sweet. his face fell at your rejection. “but, i work in the mall, so i wouldn’t be opposed to you dropping by to visit,” you offered.
“oh, really? where do you work?” he perked back up at the offer.
“Precious Petals, the flower shop,” you explained, a high building in you that you only got from talking to a cute boy.
“flower shop? well, that explains the dress, i guess,” he smirked, glancing at you up and down.
“oh speaking of, i’ve got to run! i work in five minutes! it was nice to meet you, steve! i hope i see you again,” you accepted your ice cream, dropped all of the change you received into the tip jar for him, and took off to get to work.
in the tip jar, he found a singular rose petal that must have slipped in your hand when you reached into your bag earlier. he took it out of the jar and put it in his shorts pocket.
steve was mesmerized by you; he knew he had to see you again.
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cdragons · 29 days
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The Careful Fawn & The Curious Wind
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Previous Part
Summary: 徐浩然 (Xú Hàorán) plops his daughter to Storm's End as he feels it is an opportunity to gain even more wealth. When 美灵 (Měilíng) first arrives, she feels disgusted by the heir of House Baratheon. However, her intrigue is slightly peaked at the sullen expressions of his younger brother.
Warning(s): MDNI 18+; Domestic Abuse; Child Abuse; Canon-Typical Misogyny, Sexism, Racism; Robert is a pig; Měilíng's dad is still the worst; the story is going to be written like those Ted Ed mythic videos
Author's Note: Please go to the masterlist to read from the beginning. Exams and ADHD are kicking my ass, and I need a distraction. Please do not repost without my permission. I did not come up with the names for the Yi Ti regions; that credit belongs to the brilliant @anya-snow. Mandarin Translations are at the bottom.
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“Hàorán could not wait to return to Wan. However much gold he gained, Dorne’s blistering heat rivaled Ren’s. He missed the breezes brought by the Jade Sea. The salty air and the hustle and bustle of his home were music to his ears.
Thinking how his bastard had been instrumental in this trip, he decided to reward her by allowing her to revisit her mother. Her vigor to improve herself grew when he brought up Nan’s name. The flute she gifted Měilíng had provided much aid in their journey. He could only imagine what other gifts she would give this time.”
Hàorán was about to give orders for his ship’s captains to head off for Wan. But he was stopped by a messenger who informed the merchant that Princess Lorenza had requested his presence in the courtyard. Thinking the woman had wished to purchase more of his goods, he was shocked to hear that she wanted to send his daughter to an acquaintance’s home up north in the Stormlands.
Lorenza informed him that her good friend, the Lady Cassana of House Baratheon, wanted to host Měilíng at Storms End for a year. She was so impressed with the quality of the silks and jewels that she begged the Princess of Dorne for the new trader’s identity. When she heard that the old merchant had a young daughter around her eldest son’s age, her tender heart overflowed with pity at the idea of the girl being isolated with no children her age to play with in a strange country.
She understood that the journey between the two countries was long and tiresome. She reasoned that he was welcome to accompany her for the first few weeks to ensure his daughter’s comfort and ease. He would ensure that his precious child be well-fed and taken in good hands as Cassana only had sons and longed for the company of a girl, even one from a faraway land.
But such news could not have come at a better time for Hàorán. He became giddy with the prospect that he could become even richer by gaining the attention of one of the most noble houses in Westeros. His advisors informed him that Lord Steffon of House Baratheon at Storm’s End was close friends with the king. If all went well, he would become the wealthiest man in Yi Ti if his luck continued.
Returning to the ship, he burst into Měilíng’s quarters before ordering her to leave with her things. She was expected at Storms End with a noble family and his two sons. He ordered her handmaidens to prepare her finest garments and warned his daughter that any word of her humiliating him would result in dire punishment when she returned.
“Měilíng felt more akin to a painted peacock than a human girl. Her father had ordered this 汉服(Hànfú) weeks before they departed from Wan. The finest seamstresses in his home stitched the black-dyed-silk 袍服(Páo fú) embroidered with a red and gold dragon flying over blue and white waves. The collar dug into her neck in an attempt to choke her. She wanted so badly to loosen it, but her father would find out and may retaliate such an act with a far harsher punishment than being sent to her room without dinner. The floor-length ivory-silk pleated 裙 (Qún) skirt was so long that she had to take tiny steps to prevent her from falling flat on her face. And each step she took resulted in excruciating pain. Měilíng was most fortunate not to be forced to wear the 莲履 (Lián lǚ) shoes she’d seen so many wives and daughters of high-ranking court officials wear. Hàorán had tried to break her feet to fit the lotus shoes. Luckily, one of Elia’s handmaidens had knocked to ask for Měilíng’s company before she was to depart.
Elia had been so distraught to know that her new friend would leave her so quickly. She had wanted to bring Měilíng with her to the Water Gardens. Oberyn was also upset at his new friend leaving. He loved Sunspear, but dealing with only his parents and older brother was boring. Elia was fun, but she was always busy with her lessons. He wanted someone new to play with.
Měilíng was uncomfortable with the tears of the two young Martells. She had only recently met them but could tell they were good people. They were not cruel like her father, nor did she think they were the kind of people who would turn a blind eye like the many servants employed under Hàorán. Měilíng begrudgingly asked if she could send letters to them as a way to keep in touch.
The princess and her younger brother only blankly stared briefly before cheering and tackling the girl to the ground. The action greatly startled her, but it was better than dealing with crying and tears.
‘It was strange to have friends,’ thought Měilíng, ‘but I think I will miss them.’
The corners of her lips upwardly twitched at the memory of her new friends. Elia was so kind and bright, and Oberyn showed promise to be a great leader and warrior. The night before she and her father left, the princess demanded that she spend the night in her chambers. They laughed and played and gossiped for hours. Elia revealed that she danced with Rhaegar in King’s Landing and gushed about how handsome he looked with his silver hair, chiseled jaw, and deep violet eyes.
Měilíng wrinkled her nose at the image in her head. Targaryens left a bitter taste in her mouth. She disagreed with the idea of them being the only ones deserving to control such magnificent creatures. The idea of being forced to be bred by a brother made her sick. The water dragons that once ruled Shenlong did restrict themselves to the nobility. They chose their riders by judging their souls, and a bond of mutual respect and loyalty would be born.
Elia broke Měilíng from her thoughts by asking her an important question.
‘Do you think he liked me as much?’ she asked with bright and hopeful eyes. ‘Do you think he would like being married to me?’
Měilíng thought carefully about how to answer the young princess’s question. She was not so close to her to respond with her true thoughts. From what Elia told her, Prince Rhaegar’s only noteworthy competencies were playing the lyre and reading books. But she still did not want to lie to the kind girl.
‘I think he would be a fool to dislike you,’ she responded. ‘I think if he ever fell in love with anyone else, he must be the most delusional and stupid person who doesn’t deserve the title ‘Prince.’
The giggles and smiles Elia gifted her made Měilíng feel more confident in her answer. Elia was so sweet and wonderful. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. If the prince thought anyone else was more worthy of love was not fit to rule. This was a fact.”
Storm’s End was a fearsome structure. A massive stone tower stood alone in the center as the keep’s curtain walls surrounded it and barely met half the tower’s height. Judging by the cliff's height drop, it was a one-hundred-fifty-foot drop to sharp and jagged rocks across the beach. Měilíng shuddered at the idea of living her whole life in this place.  But she was curious to learn about the keep’s history and the stories the walls held.
Riding the entrance of the giant keep made Měilíng’s knees buckle. Judging by how the waves crashed onto the rocky shore that entered her ears, the castle's name was fitting. The winds blowing through her hair were angry and fierce, nothing like the breezes in Yi Ti. The sea brought strong and chilling winds to the ports of Wan. In Shenlong, the sea blew warm and mellow breezes to the docks. Měilíng wondered what atrocities were committed for such furious howling.
Outside the doors was a man looking around half her father’s age, his wife, and two boys who seemed to be a younger copy of the grown man. The man wore a black satin tunic with gold embellishments and a cape draped across his chest and down his back. The cape was held by an ornate gold brooch that carried the Baratheon House sigil of a black stag on a gold background. He was a giant towering his wife by almost three heads, had a head full of lush black curls with gray streaks, and a thick black beard. His eyes were a clear crystal blue and shone with confidence and kindness.
His wife was a pretty woman who wore a bright turquoise-green dress with green sea turtles stitched into the frock. Her honey-orange locks were gathered in a single braid over her head, and Měilíng spied a small silver turtle pendant hanging on a simple chain. Her eyes were a warm tone of russet that shone her excitement by how wide her smile grew at the approaching carriage.
The two boys had differing heights. The taller one wore a broad smile, while the other looked like he was here against his will. It would seem that fact was something he and Měilíng had in common.
Exiting the ornate wagon, Měilíng bowed in respect to her hosts. It was a great relief that her father had not accompanied her on this trip. His distaste for his sole offspring served her well in this circumstance. When permitted to rise, she was immediately warmly greeted by the lovely woman.
“Cassana knew it was improper to give such a warm greeting to someone so below her station. But she could not help herself! She could not help but be absolutely besotted by the small child in front of her. She had never seen a YiTish person, and all the stories from the maesters in her childhood home in Greenstone proclaimed that they were short with eyes so small that it looked like they couldn’t open.
But such claims were clearly false! The girl before her was so darling! Her skin had a light and healthy tan, and no blemish was visible. Her almond-shaped eyes almost resembled a doll with how wide and innocent they looked. Her round cheeks seemed so soft, making her more adorable. Apparently, she was supposed to be around Robert’s age, but she only went as much as Stannis’ height.
Her robes were made of the same silk that Lorenza’s daughter and sons wore at the banquet, but they were dyed in black. But even with that dreadful color, she looked like a fairy! Her hair was intricately braided in a style completely unfamiliar to her. It looked like two butterfly loops stood on top while the rest of her hair fell like a dark waterfall.
Lord Steffon chuckled at his wife’s poorly contained excitement. He knew how much she longed for a daughter to dress up and play with. Their two boys were blessings, and they loved them more than anything, but their differences caused more strife than solutions. Robert was rowdy and always itching to fight. He had all the makings of a strong and fine warrior, while Stannis preferred to keep to himself with his books and learn how to fulfill his duties as the second son of House Baratheon.
Robert visibly deflated in disappointment. When Mother and Father informed him they would be expecting a guest from a faraway country, he had hoped they would be a mercenary or a pirate – not some stupid daughter of a trader with more wrinkles than an old bull’s ballsack who only knew how to wear dresses. And her face! Was it so necessary that she have such a blank expression? Why were her eyes so small? His eyes trailed down from her face, and he was further displeased. Why had her tits not developed? This was going to be a boring summer – Robert knew it. But at least he would soon be at the Vale to see Ned again.
He supposed it was amazing that a foreigner from such a savage land could speak Common Tongue. But he can’t imagine it being too difficult to learn from her likely backwater language. But her only saving grace for her looks was her dark almond-shaped eyes and glossy black hair. It made her rather exotic-looking. But that was it.
Stannis only looked at his feet. He did not share the same enthusiasm as Mother and Father for sharing their ancestral home with a foreign stranger. He wasn’t so rude to show his disappointment as vividly as Robert, but he could not deny his irritation at the sight of the girl. Had it been the merchant himself, he could have asked him the questions he had after reading the book Maester Cressen gifted him. But just looking at the blank expression on her face as she stood fully adorned in opulence, he could tell she would know nothing beyond fairy tales and silly songs meant for children. But still, as a son of the ancient House Baratheon, he would maintain his duty to show adequate propriety to his mother’s guests. He respectfully bowed his head as a sign of appreciation for her acknowledgment of the difference in status.”
Měilíng was so far unimpressed with the two boys. Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana have been most gracious hosts, and she was grateful to be so warmly received by the Lady of the Keep herself. But it was clear as day to see how their sense of decorum and graciousness was not passed down to their children.
Lady Cassana was a warm and lovely woman. Her kindness and hospitality reminded Měilíng much of Elia, the bright and excited friend from Dorne that she unexpectedly became very close to while she resided there. She shared the history of Storm’s End and how the name came from the multitude of storms of two gods angered by their mermaid daughter’s marriage to a mortal son.
The elder son, Robert, made no attempt to hide his displeasure of her. He was clearly displeased at the fact that this new girl had stolen his mother’s attention. As a result, he thought of her as ‘boring’ or ‘stupid’ based entirely on her appearance. The entire time their mother led Měilíng to her guest chambers, he loudly whispered in his brother’s ear about missing someone named ‘Ned’ and how he couldn’t wait to go down to the courtyard to spar with their swordmaster.
Měilíng was also getting impatient with her irritation. Was it really so necessary for him to be so loud? Did he really think she wanted to be here? She wanted to go home. She wanted to return to Yi Ti, to Wan, to her mother. Once more, Měilíng cursed her father. Once more, he trapped her in a cage. If she could, she would summon all the winds with her flute and let them carry her and her mother back to their simple home on the docks of Shenlong.
Stannis grew annoyed and exasperated with his brother’s behavior like their guest. Why was he trying so hard to ruin Mother’s mood? She had been excited for weeks at the confirmation of the girl’s arrival. He was no more pleased with her appearance, but he refused to sink so low to show his crossness in such an undignified manner like his brother. He would keep his thoughts to himself and accompany his mother in showing their guest her quarters for the year. Afterward, he would retreat to the library. He had wasted too much time as was.
Měilíng had almost dropped her jaw in complete shock once she entered the room meant to be hers for an entire year. It was absolutely gorgeous. Masters in their craft created the floor tiles. The mosaic in the center was made in the image of water lilies in a serene pool of blue. The swirls of green vines, the white petals' shine, and the yellow dragonflies' brightness created a beautiful picture. The balcony was facing the sea, which calmed after the storm passed. Its serenity under the bright blue sky as the sun’s golden rays twinkled on the surface was more beautiful than she could imagine.
The four-poster bed frame was made of a sturdy dark wood glossy from the stained finish. The canopy draped over the poster top was a flowy green fabric. But the mattress was the most significant difference between this bed and the one she slept in her father’s home. Back in Wan, the bed had a thick blanket over a thick slab of clay above a small oven. In the winter, the stove would be lit to heat the clay for warmth throughout the night. But this bed looked so much softer than that slab of stone. Měilíng wondered if once she laid on it for sleep, she would ever want to wake up again.
“Cassana watched with bated breath for Měilíng’s reaction. So far, the girl had yet to reveal whether she appreciated or disliked the room. She saved this room for the day she would be blessed with a daughter, but for now, it would belong to the YiTish girl who held the Princess and Princes of Dorne’s attention. When the girl turned, her dark eyes were bright in wonder and trepidation.
‘My lady,’ she began, ‘this is far too much for someone like me. I am no one so worthy of such finery. Is there no room more befitting of my station?’
‘Oh no! My dear, you needn’t worry about such things.’ Lady Cassana reassured Měilíng. ‘My husband and I are more than happy to make your stay in our home as pleasant as can be. I am unfamiliar with Yi Ti's homemaking and furnishings, but I hope it can provide you with some comfort.’
Měilíng still felt uncomfortable being permitted to stay in so much luxury as a guest. ‘My lady, I have not brought anything to repay your kindness. I will write to my father immediately to rectify this mistake. After all, it is customary for a guest to provide gifts to the household members that host them. Is there anything at all I can mention? Teas, fruits, silk?’
Stannis was mildly impressed. Not only was the girl fluent in Westerosi Common Tongue, but she also understood her place in Westeros’ society. She showed the proper mannerisms when addressing a high noblewoman following this country’s customs. At the very least, she did show gratitude for his mother’s generosity. Her politeness and offer only furthered his mother’s insistence on refusing. It would have been polite of him to offer his gratitude – to state that such actions were unnecessary. But glancing back at the strange girl silenced him immediately. Her large, dark eyes were unlike any other girl he had ever seen.
Girls liked to flock around Robert. It made sense- he was the eldest, after all. But when they met his gaze, they would either look for an escape or ignore his presence. They did not care for the opinion of Lord Steffon’s second son. It would not be him who would inherit Storm’s End. But this girl…this…strange girl from a land farther than Essos – she only stared at him. She stared at him with eyes that were so dark that they resembled onyx. But it wasn’t just her eyes. It was the way she stared. There was neither judgment nor disappointment– only curiosity. It made his cheeks burn at the attention, and he turned away to return to his quarters.
‘Strange foreign girl,’ he thought, his cheeks still burning in flushed embarrassment.
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Měilíng tuned out Lady Cassana’s rambling. While she was most amiable in her position as a hostess, Měilíng just wanted to rest and be left alone for the rest of the day. The bed was looking more like a cloud with each passing minute. When she tried to look past her lady’s person to focus on a spot on the wall, she accidentally stopped to stare at the shorter son. He didn’t seem bored like his brother. He was reticent the entire time, not betraying a single one of his thoughts with his stern expression. She wondered if he would be open to playing 圍棋 (Wéiqí) with her. He certainly seemed he’d have the patience and intellect to learn it.
The nightly game she and Hàorán played after dinner before she prepared for bed was one of the few things Měilíng was grateful to her father for. The game’s objective is for each player to take more territory for their opponent by surrounding their opponent’s tiles with yours. In a game with hundreds of moves for each player, and every move is legal – the path to victory is unclear and requires that perfect balance of strategy and tactics.
You cannot study for improvement – you can only improve through experience.
Měilíng hadn’t realized that she was staring at the boy for so long. It wasn’t until he broke away and retreated wherever he felt he might find peace. His mother called out his name, ‘Stannis,’ to at least offer goodbyes to their guest. When he refused, Lady Cassana returned to Měilíng to apologize for her youngest son’s behavior. She explained that if she would like, he would properly introduce himself when they all joined together for supper. Měilíng replied that such an act was unnecessary, and she would hate to make him more uncomfortable than he was. But she reassured her lady that she took offense and was sure they would soon be friends.
She ignored the mannerless snort from the taller boy, ‘Robert,’ and retreated to bed when Lady Baratheon and her son finally left her alone. As she laid flat on her back on the feather-filled cloud, she fell into a short sleep to the scent of salty sea breeze flowing from the windows – and the image of a boy her height with somber and bright eyes, eyes so blue that it rivaled the seas of Shenlong.
‘Curious boy,’ was her final thought before she drifted off to sleep.
Winds from lands in the Far East whistled in excitement for the events and entertainment sure to come. ”
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Translations: Mandarin to English with clues to history background hints
汉服(Hànfú) - they are traditional styles of clothing worn by the Han Chinese, and the basic Hànfú was developed in the Shang Dynasty (1600 BC to 1000 BC)
袍服(Páo fú) - 'robe'; typically worn as an upper garment in a Hànfú for both men and women in China during the Ming Dynasty
裙 (Qún) - 'skirt'; these are skirts used in the Hànfú ensemble
莲履 (Lián lǚ) - 'Lotus Shoes'; footwear that was worn by women in China with bound feet that was banned in 1911 since the cruel practice of bound feet required women to have their feet broken in order to fit their feet inside the shoes
圍棋 (Wéiqí) - 'Go'; 'Go' is an ancient game that originated in China over four thousand years ago and is known to be very difficult to play despite the game's simple rules (the objective is to capture more territory than the opponent by fencing off empty space)
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Tagging: @valeskafics, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @writingsofwesteros, @a-libra-writes, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @anya-snow, @strangedragonqueen, @100pureawesomeness
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harmonie-writes · 1 year
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The Hunt pt. 9
Werewolf! Wonwoo x hunter! Reader
Summary: After going in different directions to work on different cases, you receive an alarming call. Driving to a small town that has wild nightlife and strange occurrences you begin your search for your missing hunting partner. This case you are about to take on will rival the others you’ve completed in the past. What could possibly happen as you search for your brother in arms?
Warnings: false identity, potential violence, language, depictions of gore, death, alcohol, mentions of nudity, angst, fluff. Story is purely for fictitious purposes and doesn't portray actual people.
Word count: ~1.9k
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»»————- ➴ ————-««
Previously on The Hunt:
"Once you know of the unknown it's really hard to look the other way and pretend everything is normal. They showed me the ropes and took me on hunts. They essentially adopted me into their tiny family."
You didn't realize it, but a single tear had run down your cheek as you were brought back into your memories. You chuckle dryly and use your free hand to rub your face. "I guess there's some supernatural cases that even seasoned hunters don't know about."
Wonwoo glances down at you before flicking his gaze over his shoulder. He knew that the rest of the pack was listening to your story. He just knows that there's going to be more questions in the morning.
»»————- ➴ ————-««
Tired eyes, with evident bags, clung to your eyelids as you glanced at the morning sun peeking above the treeline. The pyre had burned out a few hours ago, but moving from your spot meant that your childhood friend, your partner and best friend, was officially gone. Nothing more than a memory.
Shifting your gaze from the trees to the wolf next to you, you were surprised to find him already staring at you. How unfortunate for you though since he still looked like the Greek God of Adonis, while you probably looked like a wreck.
Out of your peripheral, you noticed that the rest of Wonwoo’s pack had stayed outside. Whether the reason was respect for tradition or not you weren't quite sure, but at the moment it brought a small smile to your lips.
"Thank you for staying out here with me," your voice sounded rough from the lack of use in the last couple of hours, but you were grateful for the company.
Wonwoo gave you a small smile and a gentle squeeze of your hand. "Our species may not exactly see eye to eye on things, but we do know good people when we see them."
You give his hand a small squeeze but don't make any move to comment any further. Instead, you decide that you've been out in the cold long enough and give what's left of Adam's remains a final look before meeting Wonwoo’s gaze one more time. "I think I'm ready to go."
Wonwoo brushes off his sweats before leading you back to the cabin which is now absent of the wolves that were previously on the porch.
As your feet touch the steps of the porch is the moment you can hear the hustle and bustle of what you imagine is a morning routine.
Following Wonwoo into the cabin was a little strange, you spotted the same tall wolf from yesterday prepping what you assumed was breakfast in the kitchen. The pack leader who spoke to you when you were tied up was reading a book in one of the lounge chairs in one of the morning sunbeams. You didn't really know much about the rest of the pack, but three wolves were sitting on the floor in front of the TV watching a movie and you assumed the rest had wandered off to go about their day.
A thought started forming and you realized that this is what a family looked like, only they could turn into wolves if they so choose to do so.
Glancing back around the room you noticed that Seungcheol had set his book down and was staring at you. Releasing a sigh you made your way over to him and he gestured to the couch next to him. You sank into the cushions slowly and waited for him to say something. The few seconds that went by felt like an eternity because you weren't entirely sure where you stood with this kind pack, considering you were a hunter.
Seungcheol let out a small hum before situating himself so he could face you more. "So, now that this is all done what do you plan to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're a hunter, right? You know about us."
You nod slowly, picking up what he's talking about. "If you mean about your pack, I don't plan to do anything about it." You pick at the skin around your thumb before continuing. "Your pack seems to have been around for several years, and there hasn't been one thing mentioned in any papers that would lead other hunters to believe that you exist in this town."
You look at the wolves mingling around you and notice that whatever they were doing seemed to have been put on pause as they listened to you talk with their alpha.
"You won't say anything?" Seungcheol leaned in your direction as if trying to startle you, but it didn't phase you.
"No, I don't think I will." Your gaze meets Wonwoo's and you give him a small smile.
Seungcheol seemed satisfied with your answer and relaxed back into his chair. "Are you going to keep hunting?" You're surprised that it was coming from one of the wolves sitting in front of you. You think his name is Chan, the boy that worked at the motel.
"Truthfully, I might continue hunts here and there. See if they are real threats to others," you tell him.
"My name is Hansol, and are you going to go on hunts alone?"
"Most likely. There aren't many hunters who usually have partners. Most do solo hunts if they can manage them or call for help when they're out of their depth."
Wonwoo frowns at this but doesn't comment from his spot at the bar. The wolf feeling agitated that you would still do dangerous hunts alone and away from him where he couldn't protect you.
Seungcehol nods as he takes in the information before standing and stretching. As he walks out of the room he calls over his shoulder that you're free to stay as long as you please.
Feeling a little out of your element you make your way to Wonwoo. Even though you don't know him well, really at all, there's an odd comfort in being near him.
As you stand by Wonwoo the tall wolf turns and hands you both a plate of eggs and bacon, and you stare for a moment a question bubbling on your tongue. "This might come off rude, but please correct me on this. None of you eat humans, like at all?"
"The name is Mingyu, and no. Not once have any of us tried to eat anyone," Mingyu rolls his eyes but gives you a grin anyway.
"Weird," you mumble, thinking about the things you learned in the past. Maybe things weren't how they always seemed either.
Wonwoo looks at you with a raised brow, "how's that weird?"
"Oh, it's just that most werewolf sighting hunters come across people who have had their hearts removed, most likely eaten. The rest of the body still remains intact and untouched. I just wanted to know if the things in the hunter world aren't what we've all been led to believe," you answer, lifting a fork full of eggs to your mouth.
You hear the boys in the living room gag at that piece of information you just shared.
The blond wolf, Seungkwan shouts from his spot, "We most certainly do not eat hearts!"
You roll your eyes and continue eating in relative silence, the evening finally starting to catch up to you again.
Sensing the tiredness rolling off you, Wonwoo decides that meeting the rest of the pack can't have official introductions after you get so much needed sleep.
"C'mon sleepy, let's get you to bed." He nudges you slightly, just enough to get you to your feet.
You follow Wonwoo back up the stairs and to his room. The idea of sleep sounds very nice, but you wonder if it'll actually come.
"Are you sure this is okay?" You ask, looking at his bed and then back at him.
"Of course I'm sure. I don't offer my bed to just anyone," Wonwoo tells you, a grin tugging at his lips.
"Ha ha very funny mister wolf," Your laugh is dry, but you crawl into bed. Once you're settled you notice that Wonwoo is still standing by the door looking like he's about to leave.
"Could you stay?" Your voice is quiet and unsure.
"Would you like me to?" Wonwoo asks, releasing the doorknob from his grip.
"Please?"
He sits on the edge of the bed before situating himself against the headboard.
He hears a mumbled 'thank you' from you and glances down at you, taking in all of your features.
He notes the slope of your nose, to the apples of your cheeks, and the lashes that brush against them. When he comes to the bandage that plagues your face he frowns imagining the scar that might make a home there.
In the midst of his staring, you startle him. "I can feel you looking at me Wonwoo." You open your eyes and tilt your head so that you're looking at him.
He gives you a sheepish smile but isn't sorry one bit. Instead, he changes the subject. "Can't sleep?"
You hum, "no not really."
"Do you want to talk about it?" He can hear the way you exhale through your nose.
"Just things like this, they keep me from sleeping. Too much going on up here," you bring your hand out of the covers and point to your head. You sit there for a moment before deciding to open up a little more.
"I've been on several hunts where we get there too late, see the damage created by the monster. The stuff doesn't just go away, and now there's this one to add to the collection."
The dejected sigh you let out causes Wonwoo’s heart to squeeze. The mental and emotional damage that your "job" has caused is immense. Maybe it was against his better judgment but he reached for your hand in hopes to comfort you some. Seeing as you didn't pull away he slowly ran his thumb in circles over the back of your hand.
Curiously your eyes met the side of his face. It has been a while since someone had comforted you in such a gentle way: like you were made out of porcelain and glass rather than gunpowder and lead. Closing your eyes you burrowed yourself further under the covers of the blanket, one hand still being held by Wonwoo. It didn't take long for sleep to reach you, but with the warmth radiating off the man next to you, you remained untouched by any nightmares that would normally plague your mind after horrible hunts.
»»————- ➴ ————-««
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rebeleden · 4 months
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Watch "Tiny Confronts TIP About A Salacious Video | T.I. & Tiny: Friends & Family Hustle" on YouTube
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CC EVIL CHICKEN HAWK PUBLIC PENIS FED SNITCH TI
THIS BAMA MF EVEN SOUNDS LIKE FOGHORN LEGHORN
CC FOLLYWOOD RAPISTS
CC FATAL POLY BS
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myl0vef0rpics · 4 years
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jayedeblack · 3 years
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NEW VIDEO: This Is Why Rapper T.I. Is GOING OUT SAD After MORE Women EXP0SE Him & Wife Tiny.
NEW VIDEO: This Is Why Rapper T.I. Is GOING OUT SAD After MORE Women EXP0SE Him & Wife Tiny.
This Commentary Is My Thoughts On Rapper T.I. Going Out Really Sad After He & Wife Tiny Keep Getting Blasted By Females.
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stiltonbasket · 4 years
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In which Wei Wuxian needs a break, Jiang Cheng is smitten, and Xiao Xingchen finally makes his way to a safe haven.
Unfortunately for Wei Wuxian, twenty-five-year-old father of two and co-owner of Lotus Pier Bakery, his days always start at four o’clock in the morning. 
Right after his alarm rings, he showers (sometimes) brushes his teeth (if he remembers to) and combs his hair (if he can’t get away with wrangling it into a messy braid, which works for three days out of every five) before stumbling down the stairs to the kitchen, where he spends the next two hours mixing pastry dough and preparing enormous rows of stuffed baozi. After the buns and pastries are done—and pastry is always finicky, even for him—he takes out his pans of bread dough and bakes until his hands are numb from kneading and mixing, right before whipping up a sponge batter and making four different flavors of cake with it: plain, chocolate, a green tea sponge that is ridiculously popular despite only smelling like tea (though it’s still a good cake, as proven by his sister’s fondness for it) and strawberry. He also puts on a pot of lotus and pork rib soup, since the bakery serves meals during lunch and provides a free cup of soup with every order.
At seven-thirty, he hears the sleepy sounds of his brother moving about on the second floor, going about his own preparations for the day. Jiang Cheng’s morning responsibilities include getting himself ready, making sure Wei Wuxian’s six-year-old-son (an actual ray of sunshine, brought to life in the shape of a boy called Wen Yuan) is dressed and packed for school, and giving baby Xiao-Yu his first bottle before the breakfast rush begins. 
Wei Wuxian’s children are utter delights, though, so he counts that part as one of the many privileges that come with being an uncle to the two most precious baby boys in the world. 
“There’s also A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng says grumpily, when he comes down with shaving foam still stuck to his ears and A-Yu wriggling in his arms. “And I don’t have to change his diapers, Wei Wuxian.”
“It’s only once a day,” Wei Wuxian coaxes. He grabs the baby from Jiang Cheng and gives him a smacking kiss on the nose, his heart melting all over again as Xiao-Yu tries to imitate him and ends up licking his face instead. “How’s the most perfect baby in the universe doing today, baobei?”
Xiao-Yu only babbles at him, since he only just passed his tenth-month birthday and can’t really manage speech outside of the occasional “baba,” (directed at Wei Wuxian, of course) or the odd “mama,” which is also directed at Wei Wuxian because he is, as he tells everyone who asks him out and then runs the second he explains, very much a single father. Parenthood’s very bad for the dating scene, but he’ll gladly remain single for the rest of his life to make sure he can give his best to A-Yuan and Xiao-Yu. 
Not that any of them but Yanli ever thought about anything like romance or marriage, after the Jiang estate burned to the ground with their parents in it and left them dependent on a family friend’s charity for the next year and a half. 
A-Yuan comes bounding into the kitchen five minutes later, dressed in a tidy little button-up and neat grey shorts with a backpack strapped to his shoulders. “A-Die!” he cries, flinging his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist and nuzzling against his stomach until his father bursts out laughing at how much it tickles. “A-Die, I’m ready. What do I get for lunch today?”
“First things first,” Wei Wuxian tells him, as A-Yu observes them through the mesh walls of his playpen with one chubby finger in his mouth. “Did you and your shushu finish all your breakfast!”
“Mm, we did! Shushu made eggs!”
“Then you can go pick out one of the buns in the cooling rack for you, and one for A-Ling. And two for your peacock uncle, since he always eats too much.”
Once A-Yuan makes his choices—a soft baozi with mushrooms in it for him, and and a green onion pastry with tomatoes for Jin Ling—Wei Wuxian fills up two tiny thermoses with hot soup and then fills up A-Yuan’s Spiderman water bottle, which is completely covered in the rabbit stickers he hoards every time someone takes him to the doctor’s office. 
“Lunches packed,” Jiang Cheng drones, starting up the various drinks machines behind the bakery counter as A-Yuan grabs his cousin’s lunchbox and tries to pack it himself. “I am now going to make coffee. And tea. And milk tea, since my elder brother is a cruel, cruel man.”
“The McDonalds down the street would have put us out of business if we hadn’t started serving bubble tea,” Wei Wuxian scolds. “And Wen Qing likes the way you cook the tapioca, so don’t even complain.”
He leaves Jiang Cheng blushing in front of the gargantuan coffee-maker and hustles A-Yuan out through the little door that separates the staff-only area from the dining room just before a large, expensive car pulls up just outside the sign in the window that reads Lotus Pier Bakery. 
“It’s Peacock-uncle,” A-Yuan pipes up, still amazed by the sight of Jin Zixuan’s luxury sports car, as if he doesn’t ride to and from school in it every day. “And A-Ling, and Auntie!”
Yanli breezes in half a second later, pouncing on A-Yuan the moment she crosses the threshold and covering his face with kisses. “Good morning, Yuan-bao,” she sings, as A-Yuan turns into putty in her arms and tucks his face against her shoulder. “Are you ready for school?”
“I’m always ready,” he informs her, before proudly displaying the two lunchboxes hanging from his elbow and the brown-paper bag held carefully in one hand. “See, I packed A-Ling’s lunch, all by myself! And Peacock-uncle’s!”
“Peacock-uncle’s going to be hungry again by lunchtime,” Jiang Cheng calls, sticking his head up over the espresso maker. “And he’ll be here at noon with the rest of the Jin crowd, just wait.”
“A-Yuan won’t be here at lunchtime,” Wen Yuan says peacefully. “A-Yuan will be at school.”
After that, Wei Wuxian gets A-Yuan settled in his booster seat, squeezes A-Ling, and waves at his brother-in-law with Jiang Yanli until the car vanishes down the street, leaving Yanli to put up her hair and march back into the kitchen to start cooking for rush hour. 
“A-Cheng, you’ve got the drinks and the registers covered, right?” she asks, before grinning from ear to ear as a young woman with a badge clipped to her shirt comes in and stares at Jiang Cheng across the counter until his face looks more like a roasted beet than anything remotely human. “Good morning, Wen Qing!”
“I’ll take my usual coffee order and a spinach roll,” Wen Qing says, sending a short, small smile at Yanli—which is more than anyone else except Jiang Cheng ever gets, because Wen Qing is a medical resident with no sympathy for anyone but her patients, A-Yuan, and inexplicably Wei Wuxian’s bad-tempered brother, who loses most of his senses whenever she walks into Lotus Pier and only gets them back about an hour after she leaves. 
“You’ve just missed A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian complains, stocking the display case next to the cash register. “He kept asking when we could see you yesterday, you know.”
“I’ll try to get up earlier tomorrow,” she yawns, carefully not paying attention when Jiang Cheng overturns a box of sugar packets in an effort to wrap up her spinach roll as neatly as he can. “Or you could video call me at night, when those of us who aren’t bakers are most active. Like normal people do.”
“I go to bed at eight o’clock like an old man, thank you very much,” he sniffs. “My schedule’s murder on my old lifestyle—”
“You mean spending all night gatecrashing sorority parties like you used to back in college?”
“—and I have children to look after,” he finishes sagely. “Do you want soup, too, Wen Qing? I can throw in a free bowl.”
“We won’t make any money that way,” Jiang Cheng scolds him, providing a wonderful show of hypocrisy as he hands Wen Qing a cup of coffee with three protective sleeves on it to make sure she doesn’t burn her hands, a heat-safe straw jammed down the side, and a warm paper bag containing at least one more fresh pastry than Wei Wuxian remembers her ordering. “Here. Good luck today, Miss Wen.”
Wen Qing tosses a mouthful of coffee down her throat and then turns to stare at Jiang Cheng.
“If it weren’t for you and your perfect coffee,” she says, “I would have dropped out years ago.”
And then she strides out the door and climbs back into her car, leaving Jiang Cheng dumbstruck in her wake as Wei Wuxian doubles over and screams with laughter until he cries. 
“Stop that,” Jiang Cheng mutters, when Xiao-Yu’s adorable baby giggles ring out alongside his father’s. “Look, now Xiao-Yu’s doing it.”
“He knows denial when he sees it,” Wei Wuxian tells him. “Honestly, A-Cheng. A-Yu’s just trying to help!”
The rest of the day goes on much as days at Lotus Pier Bakery usually do; happily, but so very busily that Wei Wuxian ends up staggering back upstairs for a second shower with Xiao-Yu when the lunch rush ends. The eatery serves coffee and baked goods from opening to closing, and is open for dine-in restaurant meals from eleven to two-thirty; Yanli does most of the cooking, while Wei Wuxian does the prep work, and Jiang Cheng handles the take-out baked goods sales and the drinks and helps wait tables until time comes to wipe down the tables in the dining area after the lunch customers finally finish eating—and the result of it all is that all three of them are so drained that they can hardly keep their eyes open, especially after dealing with parties bigger than about four or five. 
“How is it only three-thirty,” Wei Wuxian moans, slumping wearily over the counter with Xiao-Yu tied to his back when Jin Zixuan comes by to drop A-Yuan off and pick Yanli up later that afternoon. “I want to sleep, A-Jie.”
“Have you looked into getting any more part-timers?” his sister asks, pressing a cool, soft hand to his cheek. “I know Xue Yang’s doing well, but he only comes three times a week.”
“A-Yang’s a gremlin,” Wei Wuxian dismisses. “And he barely talks, it scares the customers. I was thinking of having someone move into your old bedroom, but of course it isn’t so easy with Yuan-bao and A-Yu here.”
“What about Wen Ning?” Jin Zixuan suggests, absentmindedly turning A-Yuan upside down and swinging him back and forth while Jin Ling begs for a turn on his other side. “A-Yuan’s his cousin, and he dotes on A-Yu, so it could work out, couldn’t it?”
“Not until he finishes his degree. And he’s got a job lined up after that, so there wouldn’t be any point,” Jiang Cheng shrugs. Wei Wuxian and his siblings all went to college, graduating with degrees in dance performance, mechanical engineering, and economics, in order of age—but then the fire came along and ruined everything about a year before he and Jiang Cheng were set to graduate, and all the three of them wanted to do after that was spend as much time together as they possibly could, so they ended up opening the bakery instead. “And we don’t know anyone else well enough.”
“Well, something will turn up,” Yanli soothes him, tiptoeing up to kiss his forehead and then Wei Wuxian’s before lifting A-Ling into her arms. “Promise me you’ll get some rest, A-Cheng. And A-Xian, you have to promise, too.”
“We promise,” they say dutifully, before watching her leave with her husband and son. 
Letting her go doesn’t seem half so bad these days, since they know how loved she is at home, and that she’s always going to come back to them in the morning. 
“She’s right, you know,” Jiang Cheng sighs, after a long pause. “We really do need to get some new staff, or we’ll run ourselves into the ground.”
“I’ll start making ads tomorrow night,” Wei Wuxian promises, sending A-Yuan upstairs for his afternoon nap and dearly wishing he could go have a nap, too. “Let’s get through the rest of the day, and then I’ll put in a call to the printers’ so we can put up flyers.”
___
As it turns out, however, the answer to their quandary comes about two hours later, after Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng put the “closed” signs in all the windows and shutter the blinds behind them. Jiang Cheng is just about to unroll the blinds on the reinforced glass doors when he takes in a sharp breath and shouts for Wei Wuxian, who comes rolling out of the dining room in five seconds flat before trotting over to stand beside him. 
“Is it just me,” he says, “or is there someone staring at me outside?”
Wei Wuxian looks. There definitely is someone outside, dressed in shabby, misshapen clothes and holding a dark little bundle to his chest, and that someone looks more than a bit familiar. 
Almost, he realizes, like a certain long-absent member of his family, from whom he has not heard anything in the past two years save for three very hurried phone calls. 
“No way,” he breathes, unlocking the door and running out into the street just in time for the someone to fall straight into his arms and burst into tears. “Xingchen!”
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coeurdastronaute · 4 years
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Essays in Existentialism: Rivals II
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Previously on Rivals
There really wasn’t anything to be nervous about. Why should she be nervous when she’d already spent two nights in the same bed as a complete stranger and player for the opposite team. That was weird, but going on a date was incredibly normal. It was the most normal part of the timeline of their entire flirtation, and yet, Clarke was slightly antsy. 
The nerves might have stemmed from the lying. 
It wasn’t really mentioned when her friends asked her what her plans were for the weekend. Vaguely, she insisted that there was some family stuff she had to do and kept out of the conversations about meeting up, much to the dismay of a few voices. But the lies were made easier by the proximity to winter break. If she told them what she was really doing, she’d never hear the end of it from Octavia, and that was a fight she didn’t want to have. She’d never get over Bellamy’s sad eyes. She’d have to listen to Raven rail about this and that, and why not avoid it if she could?
In the end, lying felt right and easy and when everyone gave up trying to figure out when she’d be able to do something, instead chalking it up to a complete family weekend, she relaxed. 
Maybe her nerves stemmed from the intensive dive into Lexa’s scant social media presence, strictly for science. 
The very night she got home from the state championship trip, she laid in her bed and did the only normal thing she could think of doing-- looking into a certain Lexa Woods, all while texting the star kicker deep into the night. 
And though she didn’t find much, she did see that Lexa was too cute and it was going to be a problem. Candids taken by friends of her in weird positions, reading. With glasses. Adorable glasses. Pictures hiking with her family. Camping with her little brother. Volunteering at the Special Olympics. Record shopping. Camping. Running. Biking. Studying film. Dressed up for a family wedding. 
It spanned her entire high school life, and Clarke learned that she was an outdoorsy person who seemed too good to be true. She had a crush on a stranger she slept with-- twice. 
Yes, that was where her nerves came from, Clarke decided as she heard the doorbell chime downstairs before she gave herself a once over in the mirror while taking a deep breath. There was nothing to be nervous about, she chanted. 
Except it’d been two weeks of almost non-stop texting and Lexa was funny and nice and sweet and a nagging part of her brain couldn’t let Clarke believe that this girl was real. 
“I’m coming!” Clarke yelled down the steps as she hurried to the bathroom and quickly sprayed a dash of perfume from the tiny, expensive bottle her dad got her for her birthday. 
She heard the rumble of voices downstairs and tried not to think of how embarrassing her father could possibly be. In record time she snagged her coat and phone, pocketing and tugging on as she hustled down the steps. 
But handling it well enough, Lexa stood there, in Clarke’s house, in the flesh, real, alive, and in-person. Red letterman jacket folded over her arm, she stood there and listened intently to Jake Griffin talk about something before catching her date’s eye and smiling. 
“I will have to check that movie out, Mr. Griffin,” Lexa nodded, tearing herself away from Clarke. “Thank you for the suggestion.” 
“Okay, we’re heading out, Dad,” Clarke interrupted before he could start talking about something else. “I’ll be home later.” 
“Not giving me much time to embarrass you, honey,” he chided as she leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I got distracted talking about movies.” 
“An easy way to avert him. Nice work, Twelve.”
Lexa smiled quickly as Clarke came to stand beside her. 
“I do want to hear some embarrassing things though. I’m sure we have ti--”
“Okay, we’re off,” she cut off the thought. 
“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Griffin,” Lexa stuck out her hand and shook Jake’s. “I’ll let you know what I think of that film. I’m always looking for new favorites.” 
“You won’t be disappoint,” he smiled, surprised by the action as she shook her hand. “Home by twelve at the latest.” 
“What about one?” Clarke tried. 
“Actually, I have to be home by eleven,” Lexa offered. “So unless you plan on bailing…” 
“You know, eleven sounds so much better to me,” Jake grinned and looked at his daughter expectantly. 
With a shake of her head and sigh, Clarke moved toward the door, Lexa trailing behind her and shrugging on her coat as the moved out into the cold. The patriarch of the small family stood behind the glass and watched them hurry to hop into the still-running car in the driveway. It wasn’t that he truly trusted anyone that took his daughter out on a date, but something about Lexa seemed okay enough for him to not worry as much, which was surprising for someone with a letterman jacket. 
But he waved as they pulled out into the street and he smiled, the faint remnant of the perfume he bought for his daughter for her last birthday still lingering on the stairs. 
XXXXXXXXXX
As much as she told herself that she wasn’t nervous, that it was pointless to worry about it, that Clarke obviously liked her enough to make out with her in a hotel bed, twice, Lexa still felt a little nervous about their first official date. She did a valiant job in pretending though. 
But then she saw Clarke and she relaxed, despite the fact that her heartbeat picked up by about half. It was baffling and she wasn’t sure what it meant, but she didn’t waste any time thinking about it too hard. 
“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” Lexa smiled as they pulled up to the museum parking lot. “My brother has a thing for museums.” 
“Now I get to spoil it for you so when he drags you here eventually, it’ll be old news.” 
“You know, you haven’t insulted me once since I picked you up.” 
“Can’t let them go to your head,” Clarke grinned and waited, sticking her hand out for her date to grab so she could lead her into one of her favorite places in town. “Your ego is already monstrous after winning a championship.” 
“Did you know I get a ring and everything? The lunch lady gave me an extra cookie the other day, too.” 
“What a life you lead. And here I am, taking up your time when you could be basking in the glow of being the city’s golden child.” 
“Not this town,” she murmured, feeling slightly out of place in her jacket. 
“Don’t sweat it. You’re with me, Woods.” 
It was a baseless sentence and in no way did Lexa imagine that Clarke ran her town, but there was something to her confidence and ease that made her want to believe it without question. Clarke was easy that way-- just constantly moving and pushing and remaining undaunted, it felt like. Through their late night chats, she’d learned that Clarke really figured out that she didn’t like a lot of who she was over the past few years, and was restarting, with purpose. 
Lexa wasn’t sure what it all meant, just that Clarke was honest and fun, she was unpredictable and passionate, and most importantly, she was fiercely independent.
Somewhere between the paintings of the boats and the ones that were just lines, Lexa felt Clarke’s chin on her shoulder and the proximity of their bodies as they walked through the massive rooms, perusing and joking, appreciating and debating, predominantly disappearing into themselves without a care for anyone else in the place. 
Somewhere between the busts and the installation art, Lexa kissed Clarke’s cheek and held her hand a little tighter, occasionally pulling her own behind her back to pull Clarke closer to her side. 
And at the end of the night, after dropping Clarke off and getting a kiss for her troubles, Lexa smiled and replayed the entire date in her head on the drive home. 
XXXXXXXXXX
Despite the normal festivities of the holiday season combined with winning a championship and having many more friend obligations to attend with, Lexa ignored what she could and spent her most of her break driving back and forth to the rival town to see a certain cheerleader who like to kiss her and sometimes slip her hand up her shirt. And she liked returning the favor, hence the driving and hosting. 
But between the family and the girl and break homework, Lexa was sure to spend time preparing for her soccer season. That was a point she made because she sure as hell wasn’t going to only get scholarship options for one season in a sport she didn’t truly love. 
There was a schedule and Clarke fit into it all, much to Lexa’s relief. 
“You have to head home soon,” Clarke whispered, though her lips moved to capture the kicker’s once again. 
“I can push my luck a little bit. Your dad likes me.” 
The scoff was cut off by a low moan as Lexa let her hands get a little more brazen than they’d been before. She was fueled by the fact that they were busy and school was starting again and she wouldn’t know how long until she’d see Clarke again. That and the delectable little noises coming from beneath her. 
“You should leave, before I make you stay.” 
Lexa smiled against Clarke’s neck and bit there before pushing her thigh harder into her center, earning a shift of hips. Fingertips dug into her neck and she sighed at the sensation. She wanted more time. She wanted to pause everything. 
“You feel so good,” Lexa whispered. 
“We should see each other again.” 
“I’d like that.” 
“You’ll let me know when you get your schedule for soccer?” 
“You’ll be the first to know. I’d like my own cheerleader,” Lexa smiled, kissing toward chest. “And as my girlfriend, you get the perks of wearing my jacket and old jersey whenever you’d like.” 
“Girlfriend, eh?” Clarke adjusted so that Lexa hovered over her. She cocked her head and smiled before pushing hair away from her eyes. She loved Lexa’s green, and how deep and expressive they were if you were smart enough to pay attention. 
“Yeah, well. If the letterman fits.” 
“I do look cute in it,” she shrugged, smiling enough with a dimple and all. 
“Much better than me.” 
“I can’t go wearing it at school. That’d be the end of me.” 
“I suppose we should talk about being star-crossed and such, since we’re heading back to the real world.” 
Clarke groaned a complaint and hugged Lexa toward her tighter. 
“What is there to talk about? My girlfriend goes to a different school.” 
“It’s adorable how you think it’ll be easy.”
“You’d be amazing at how good I am t being difficult.” 
Despite herself, Lexa chuckled and shook her head before kissing Clarke’s cheek and jaw and nose. She finally pushed herself away. 
XXXXXXXXX
The fall out was… biblical, in a way that Clarke never fully expected. It seemed insanely trivial for her to develop a crush on a person that could develop so much ire from her entire world, but she bore the brunt of it with a flippant disregard to such ridiculous stigmas. 
The worst of it was Octavia, fiercely loyal to her team and her school and most importantly, her brother. The news worked its way through the friend group, debated and marvelled over for a few days before it became old news. It was a novelty and for a while Clarke fielded their questions and took their taunting well enough. 
It wasn’t until spring that Clarke finally blew up, lashing out at Bellamy, Octavia, Murphy, and a few others who were still bitter about their lost. It ended with her scolding their pitiful performance and childish behavior. It didn’t really help, but she certainly felt better. 
“Good job! Nice kick!” Clarke cheered from the bleachers amidst the large crowd in the waning evening light. 
“Oh now you’re a cheerleader,” Octavia rolled her eyes and scoffed from a few rows away. 
Clarke grit her teeth and shook her head before focusing back on the pitch as number twelve streaked down the field, maneuvering quickly through defenders. She shoved her hands into the pockets of the jacket for the opposing team and smelled a hint of Lexa on the collar still, vowing to give it back to her for a few days to get more of it back. 
Unsure of if the booing spurred her or the fact that her girlfriend was watching, but Lexa and her team won by a wide margin, which was gratifying to the singular fan in the audience. 
“Hey, Twelve, you looked good out there.” 
“Oh thanks. Just showing off a bit for you,” Lexa grinned, hanging on the railing of the bleachers as she watched her red jacket walk towards her. “Thanks for coming.” 
“Couldn’t miss it. Hottest seat in town.” 
“I have to get on the bus in a few…” 
“Can’t waste time then,” Clarke grinned, jumping off the final step and wrapping her arms around the sweaty soccer players neck. 
In a second, she was kissing her girlfriend and smiling, content with the glares she knew she’d be getting from the peanut gallery. 
“You should come over this weekend. There’s a great movie playing at the Local, and I could be persuaded to take you for dinner.” 
“Persuaded, huh?�� 
“Mmhm,” she nodded, setting her girlfriend down.
“Do you want to meet my friends?” 
“I think I’ve met some of them,” Lexa looked at the gaggle that followed. “Hi.” 
“Guys, this is Lexa,” Clarke offered as she turned around and found the rest of the group. “Lex, this is Bellamy, his sister, Octavia, Raven, Murphy, Monty, and Madi.”
A small chorus of hellos greeted her as she lifted her hand awkwardly. 
“Sorry about making that field goal. I can honestly say I didn’t mean to, and it just kind of happened.”
The crowd relaxed slightly and mingled about with some small talk before the coach called and Lexa looked over her shoulder, realizing it was time to leave. 
“I’ll see you Saturday, if that’s okay?” Clarke asked, walking with Lexa toward the bus. 
“Did I do well enough with the friends to earn a date?” 
“You did. I do have to spend Friday with them though to make up for it, but yeah, I’d say you’re okay.” 
“Am I going to have to see them more?” 
“Definitely.” 
“Whatever works.”
“Here,” Clarke shrugged off the coat. “I need you to break this in again for me. I lost your smell.” 
“Can’t have it not smell like Ireland looks, I guess.” 
“Shut up.” 
With a shove and a kiss, Clarke pushed Lexa toward the bus.
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maluminspace · 4 years
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Genre: WW2/drama/angst/fluff/
Pairings: Calum Hood/Michael Clifford
Prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.”
Word Count: 9k
Trigger warnings: Strong language, physical abuse, physical violence, reference to war, reference to death, references to domestic abuse, period typical racism, period typical homophobia, internalised homophobia
A/N: I have wanted to write a ww2 fic for a very long time so when the generator threw out 40s for malum I jumped on it for this event. This is just a portion of the espically long final fic I have planned. The overall piece will be posted on my AO3 account when it’s complete. I hope you all enjoy this segment enough to check it out when it’s entirely complete.
September 1940
As the train pulled into the little station, Calum let out a sigh of relief. It’d been a long journey and the train had felt too hot and stuffy. He picked up his suitcase and joined the other passengers gathering at the doors.
Once he was able to step onto the platform, Calum took a moment to compose himself. He’d spent the entire train journey trying not to think of London and his family. He already missed them all. Now that he’d arrived in Yorkshire, it was hard not to immediately identify all the differences between this sleepy rural life and the hustle and bustle of the capital city. 
Before he could fully process his new surroundings, Calum noticed his Uncle Donald standing near the doorway of the waiting room. He looked so much like Calum’s dad that it almost brought tears to the 15-year-old’s eyes. 
“Hello, Calum lad!” His uncle smiled as he weaved through the people filling the platform. “Give me that suitcase, let’s get you home and settled in.”
Calum gave a half-hearted smile. He was a little surprised by the friendly welcome. He’d only ever met his dad’s side of the family once before when he was very little. It was highly possible that they would be disapproving of Calum’s ‘exotic’ appearance but it seemed that those worries were unnecessary at least. 
Donald took the heavy case from Calum as though it weighed nothing. A moment of sympathy flashed in his eyes as he seemingly recognized his nephew’s uncertainty. “Don’t worry, lad.” He smiled gently. “You’re welcome here for as long as this war goes on.”
His words comforted Calum a bit but he still felt severely out of place. He could only hope that he’d feel more at ease as time passed. “Thank you, sir.” He managed, trying not to show just how scared he was by this sudden change. 
Donald let out a booming laugh as he clapped Calum on the shoulder. “There’ll be none of that here, boy.” He chuckled. “You can just call me Don or Uncle Don. I know we haven’t spent any real time together until now but we’re still family.”
Donald’s infectiously merry mood made Calum relax ever so slightly; he felt somewhat less nervous as he was driven through the countryside to the farm where he’d be living for the foreseeable future.
The rolling hills, quiet roads, and quaint little houses and shops were about as different to the London landscape as he could ever imagine. Despite the stark contrasts to everything Calum was familiar with, this little corner of Yorkshire seemed to have an undeniable charm of its own. 
The car ride was filled with pleasant conversation, further relaxing Calum’s nerves as he got to know his uncle a bit better. He listened to various stories about his aunt and three cousins as they drove. By the time they finally pulled up at the farm, Calum was quite excited to meet the rest of his family and acquaint himself with his new home. 
The farm and it’s surrounding green hills and fields looked like something from a postcard. Having seen nothing but London’s grey skyline and smoggy streets, the openness of his new home felt just as exciting as it did daunting.
“Calum!” His Aunt May grinned as she appeared in the doorway, her greying hair tied back in a neat bun so that it didn’t fall into her lightly lined face. “I hope your uncle didn’t bore you too much on the drive over here! He doesn’t know when to shut up, y’know.” She gave a tiny laugh, shooting Don a fond glance as she tottered down the path. 
“I wasn’t bored at all.” Calum smiled, “I liked hearing his stories. It took my mind off everything a bit.”
May gave Calum a sympathetic smile as she wrapped him in a warm hug. “It must be quite a big change, moving all the way out here. I know you’ll settle in just fine, though. Your cousins are excited to show you around once you’re all unpacked.”
Don pecked a kiss to his wife’s cheek before grabbing Calum’s suitcase and heading towards the house. 
“Come on, love,” May muttered hastily ushering Calum towards the house as well. “Let's get you settled in.”
***
After meeting his cousins; Elaine, Wendy and Matthew, Calum had joined the family for a delicious lunch before his uncle had insisted that he come out and meet some of the other people that work for them.
Elaine had accompanied them for the tour of the grounds and her father had made a passing joke about someone named Ashton, who Calum could only assume Elaine had taken a fancy to.
It was late in the afternoon when Calum finally met the elusive Ashton. He’d been out plowing a field for most of the day, according to one of the older farmhands, whose name Calum had already forgotten.
Calum’s suspicions about his eldest cousin’s attractions to this boy were confirmed by her suddenly shy demeanor as Ashton trudged towards them. It wasn’t surprising that a sixteen-year-old girl would be attracted to someone like this. He was tall with broad shoulders and a very handsome face. He turned out to be very friendly as well. Offering to show Calum around the local village now that he’d finished his work for the day.
Don approved of the suggestion, seemingly happy for Calum to become friends with one of his favourite workers. 
Whilst Ashton got cleaned up, Calum spent a little time with the farm dogs. He’d never been able to have a pet of his own back in London, so it was nice to know he’d get the experience here. Elaine stayed with him, opting to be some silent company as he tried to soak in his new surroundings.
Once Ashton was ready he led the way into the village using a shortcut across the field. “I’d like to introduce you to a couple of my best friends, if you’re up for it.” The older boy said cheerfully. “I think you’ll like them a lot. They’re a bit stupid sometimes, but you’ll get used to them!”
In the back of his mind, Calum thought that Ashton hadn’t known him for nearly long enough to know what or who he’d like, but the farmhand had a cheerful and sweet nature that it made it difficult not to trust his judgment. “Even stupid friends would be better than what I had back home.” He replied with a humourless laugh. “No one seemed to want to know me, let alone be my friend so…”
An annoyed expression crossed Ashton’s handsome face for a moment. “Well, people like that aren’t worth knowing, anyway!” He huffed. “I hope you’ll have better luck here.”
It didn’t take long to reach the village. Just like the farm, the village was picturesque. Calum was sort of bemused by how quiet and lazy it all seemed. Everywhere you turned in London, there were signs that a war was happening; posters on the walls, soldiers, wreckages left behind by bombs… Here, the only indications that World War 2 was in progress were the headlines of the newspapers on display in the shops and the ration coupons in people’s hands. 
“I bet this is all strange to you, huh?” Ashton asked as he took in the bemused expression on Calum’s face. “I’m sure it’ll feel a bit more like home later, when the spitfires take off from the airbase.”
Such a comment could easily be perceived as insensitive, but yet again Ashton’s natural charm made it impossible to think he could ever actually mean to sound that way.
As they made their way along the quiet streets, Calum noticed the odd person staring at him. It wasn’t an unfamiliar experience but it wasn’t what he needed right now. He slumped his shoulders, trying to make himself small enough that Ashton could hide him from unfriendly eyes.
Unfortunately, the older boy didn’t seem to notice that anything was happening, he was too busy droning on about the nearby airbase and the fighter planes that it was currently home to.
“Hi, Ash!” A cheerful voice echoed through the fog filling Calum’s mind. “Are you free to spend some time with me and Mike tonight or are you busy with Jane again?”
The voice belonged to a lanky blonde boy with pretty blue eyes. He wiggled his eyebrows cheekily at Ashton before turning his attention to Calum. “Oh hello! You must be Farmer Hood’s nephew. I’m Luke Hemmings, Ashton's best and most handsome friend.” 
Calum shook the newcomer’s hand, taking heart in his friendly tone and the lack of suspicion in his eyes. He introduced himself nervously, feeling the need to impress Ashton’s friends if he wants to have any chance of calling them his own friends one day.
“Come on, Michael will be finishing his shift in the shop in a minute, I suppose you should meet him really,” Luke smirked, wrapping a pale skinny arm around Calum’s shoulders. “We tried to get rid of him but he just keeps clinging on to us, doesn’t he, Ash?”
Ashton rolled his eyes. “Don’t be mean, Luke!” He reprimanded. “Michael’s a hell of a lot less annoying than you most of the time.”
Calum couldn’t help but laugh at their friendly banter. He’d never had this sort of friendship with anyone and he could only hope that these boys would finally give him that chance.
The little group of boys made their way past the village green on to the main street. Luke and Ashton continued to offer friendly and fun conversation which successfully distracted Calum from any lingering glances from passersby.
“Ah, he’s already finished for the day!” Luke grinned as they neared the little grocery store. 
Calum followed Luke’s gaze to a boy standing next to the entrance to the shop. He was a little bit taller than Calum with dark blonde hair and pale skin. When he glanced up from the ground to greet his friends, Calum felt his breath catch in his throat. This had to be the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life. 
Michael smiled, waving at his friends as he pushed away from the wall and made his way over to them. “Afternoon, idiots.” He giggled, nudging Luke in the shoulder and earning himself a hair ruffle from Ashton. When his gaze met Calum's, his cheeks turned a pale pink and his eyes seemed to sparkle with some emotion that Calum couldn’t quite place. He seemed suddenly shy which judging by the confused expressions on Luke and Ashton’s faces, was pretty out of character for their friend.
“I’m Michael.” The blonde smiled bashfully, awkwardly offering him a hand to shake.
Calum shook it, trying to hide his own nerves. This was absolutely the last thing he needed right now. He was already going to find it hard to fit in here, his skin colour made sure of that. What he absolutely didn’t want, was these forbidden feelings toward another boy. He’d had them once or twice before, a little spark of attraction for a boy or man he’d pass in the street, but never like this, never to the extent where he was suddenly so aware of how hard his heart was beating that he was sure it could burst right out of his chest.
He had to find a way to control this, he wanted to be normal and fit in. Calum just wanted to make friends, he absolutely didn’t want to end up like the milkman’s son back in London. He shivered at the memory of how his whole street had gossiped about how young Tommy had been caught kissing another boy. He’d been disowned by his family after that and Calum hadn’t heard anything of him since. There’s no way he wanted to end up like that; he had to get his act together.
***
The news that Jane had broken up with Ashton and started seeing a fighter pilot from the nearby airbase, had spread quickly through the village. It made an already difficult situation even more horrid for Ashton. He couldn’t leave his house without people whispering behind their hands to each other or offering him sympathetic glances that he didn’t want.
Calum had been the one to suggest getting out of the village, riding their bikes out into the countryside and taking a little picnic. He’d asked his aunt and uncle for some spare food from the farm and a little day trip was quickly arranged.
On the chosen day, Michael, Luke and Ashton headed up to the farm to collect Calum en-route to the spot they always used to go as kids. 
When they arrived, Mrs Hood met them at the door, informing them that Calum had to help her husband mend a fence that morning, so he was running a little bit late.
She offered them some bread and cheese for their little trip and helped Ashton and Luke pack it into their bags. 
They sat at the table for a little while before Mrs. Hood suggested that one of the boys go and see if Calum’s almost ready. 
Michael volunteered, trying not to sound too eager. He’d gotten a lot of practice at that lately, although the slightly perplexed look on Calum’s aunt’s face told him that he probably needed a little more. 
He was already halfway up the stairs before he realized that he had no idea which bedroom was Calum’s. In fact, he’d never been to this floor of the farmhouse before. Most of his visits here were to meet Ashton, therefore he’d had very few reasons to enter the house at all. 
There were several doors leading off the landing, all but one of them were closed. The open door led to the bathroom; Michael could tell by the garish green wall tiles visible through the gap.
It was entirely possible that one of the Hood girls or Matthew were in their own rooms so Michael didn’t want to be a pest and knock on all of the doors. Instead, he called out Calum’s name, not too loudly but clear enough that someone in any of the rooms would hear him. 
It only took a second for the closest door to open, revealing a smiling and half-naked Calum. “Michael!” He greeted, opening his bedroom door a little wider. “Sorry I’m running a bit late, I had to help Uncle Don fix a fence out in one of the fields. Come in for a minute, I just need to grab a clean shirt.”
It took Michael a moment or two to work up the courage to follow Calum into his bedroom. It felt sort of naughty and forbidden to be alone with someone he had these feelings for. He’d never dream of acting on them of course, but it still felt like he shouldn’t be there, especially when Calum was topless, unwittingly showing Michael his muscly chest and arms. 
As strange as it felt to be alone with Calum in his room, Michael supposed that standing out on the landing would be fairly suspicious and so he finally forced his legs to move and follow Calum into the bedroom.
Even though the slightly younger boy had only inhabited this room for a few weeks, he’d already made it very much his own. Sure, the walls were still a neutral cream colour but Calum had filled them with postcards, pictures and photographs. Most of them were black and white, of course, but they still added a distinct character to the room.
To try and distract himself from looking at Calum’s body, Michael drifted over to examine a little cluster of postcards pinned up near the younger boy’s bed. They each depicted a different London landmark and Michael found himself staring at them dreamily.
“They remind me of home.” Calum said, breaking the silence as he joined Michael in looking at the postcards. “I know it’s probably quite childish to get homesick but I sort of miss London, even now when it’s so dangerous.”
“I don’t think it’s childish.” Michael reassured his friend. “I think it’s perfectly natural to miss home and your family. Especially when your home is somewhere as exciting as London!” He kept his gaze on the postcards, still not daring to look at Calum.
“When the war’s over and I move back there, you should come to visit!” Calum offered excitedly. “I’ll show you all the sights and take you to the best places to eat!”
Michael smiled as he finally forced himself to meet Calum’s gaze. “Would you take me see Buckingham Palace?” He asked, unsurprised at how shy he sounded all of a sudden. “I bet it’s so beautiful!”
Calum nodded. “Of course, what kind of tour guide would I be if I didn’t take you there?” 
Shrugging, Michael moved his gaze to a little framed photograph on Calum’s dresser. “Is that your family?” He asked, berating himself for asking such a stupid question.
Calum followed his gaze. “Yeah, it was taken a few years back. I’m the podgy kid right there.” He giggled pointing at the little boy in the picture. “That’s my older sister, Mali. She joined the WAAF last year, even though women don’t have to sign up, she wanted to do her bit.” His voice sounded a bit sad and Michael wondered what it must be like to have a sibling that you’re so close to. He’d thought about it before when Luke talked about his brothers, but Ben and Jack had always teased their younger sibling, and Michael had never quite understood their bond with Luke. Calum’s and Mali’s relationship seemed very different from the Hemmings siblings. In the few stories Calum had mentioned his sister in, he’d said her name so fondly, like he was describing his best friend.
***
As the little group of friends rode out of the village, Michael was pleased to see some of the tension slip from his eldest friend’s face. He could only hope that he’d see a smile there by the end of the day.
The further they got from the village the more relaxed Ashton became, although the weight of his troubles was clear by the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly more prominent cheekbones from where he’d lost weight from his face.
They rode their bikes for over an hour until they reached a pretty little spot near to a brook. Michael, Luke, and Ashton had come to this spot many times growing up, racing sticks under the nearby rickety bridge, and paddling in the clear water. 
It was clear by the look of wonder on Calum’s face, though, that the city boy had never really had anywhere like this to play. 
Michael couldn’t quite bring himself to look away from his new friend as they parked up their bikes next to the bridge and started to unpack the food. He had grown to like Calum very quickly. Their friendship had seemed to blossom more and more with every day they spent together.
Calum was extremely interesting; his stories about London and general city life captivated Michael for hours on end, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t just his curiosity about places he’d never visited before that made Calum appealing to him. The way that the slightly younger boy’s face would creep into his mind when he was alone in bed was enough to let Michael know that he was attracted to Calum in ways that he shouldn’t be. 
Even though he knew he’d have to find a way to get past his feelings, Michael found it incredibly difficult, especially on days like today when Calum looked so beautiful.
As Ashton and Luke laid out the picnic, Michael kicked off his shoes and gestured for Calum to do the same. “Come on, the water’s always so nice and cool!” He giggled as he stepped into the shallow brook. 
Calum smiled wistfully as he took off his own shoes and followed his friend into the water. He gasped slightly at the change in temperature and Michael giggled to hide the spark of interest that ignited in the pit of his stomach. 
“So you all come out here a lot then?” Calum asked, aiming his question primarily at Michael seeing as he was the closest. “I would have practically lived out here when I was a kid if I’d grown up here.”
Michael nodded. “We used to come out here at least once a week during the summer. Our parents used to bring us here when we were little so we’ve always known the way. It’s a popular picnic spot.”
Calum listened intently to various stories that Michael recounted of visiting this spot as a kid and he had to try not to melt every time Calum laughed or even grinned at something he said. 
Once Ashton and Luke had the picnic all set up, they shouted for the two boys to join them. 
As they all settled down together, Michael tried to concentrate on what Luke was saying about the letters his parents had received from his brothers. Having been friends with Luke for almost as long as he can remember, Michael was obviously invested in the older Hemmings’ brothers safety. Ben and Jack meant a whole lot to Luke and by extension, Michael, too. He couldn’t quite get Calum out of his brain, though. He pretended to be extremely interested in a shiny stone he’d scooped up from the brook, turning it over and over in his hands whilst he focused on the bare skin of Calum’s crossed legs, poking out from beneath his shorts. He was only a couple of months younger than Michael, which meant he wasn’t far off turning 16. Puberty was obviously being much kinder to Calum than it was to Michaael. The slightly older boy had gotten nothing but acne and a messy smattering of blonde hair over his legs, chest and under his arms, whereas Calum had experienced none of that. He was starting to get broader and stronger. Sure, the farm work he’d been doing would have helped with that but his face was getting less soft and his features were becoming more defined. It was easy for Michael to see flashes of the man Calum was destined to become and he couldn’t shake the image from his mind, no matter how hard he tried. 
“... And Jack’s still seeing that girl so mum is convinced they’ll get engaged soon.” Luke mumbled around a mouthful of bread and cheese. 
Ashton dropped his gaze miserably and Calum swatted the youngest friend across his arm for being so mindless.
It took a moment for Luke to realise what he’d done to earn such a punishment. When it hit, though, he looked truly shaken by his own stupidity. “Oh, I’m sorry, Ash… I-”
“It’s okay.” Ashton shrugged, although his deflated posture and miserable expression said otherwise. “I’m pleased for Jack, I really am.”
The other three boys exchanged a desperate look, hoping that someone could save the situation. Before any of them could come up with anything, Ashton let out a tiny laugh. “You boys are stupid as hell, all three of you.” Despite his harsh words, there was a fondness in his tone that was absolutely undeniable. He confirmed his love for friends by adding “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
November 1940
Michael’s 16th birthday had been pretty uneventful so far. 
His dad had been his usual, miserable, hungover self at breakfast, barely acknowledging his son, let alone wishing him a happy birthday. His mum had knitted him a new jumper, green to bring out the colour in his eyes. 
Mr Robertson had been particularly nice to him, offering him a longer lunch break, which he’d spent with Calum since he’d timed his delivery perfectly. That had been the highlight of his day so far, huddled in the back room of the shop eating a slice of cake that Calum’s aunt had baked. They’d made fun of Ashton still being oblivious to Elaine’s affections for him and confirmed their plan for a little celebration at Ashton’s house in the evening.
The afternoon had passed pretty quickly after that and before he knew it, Michael was heading home. He needed to pack an overnight bag since he was staying over at Ashton’s later. His mum worked as a barmaid at the village pub so the boys would have the house to themselves and they wanted to enjoy that rare freedom as fully as possible. Therefore they’d all planned to stay there for the night. 
Michael packed some of his warmest clothes and headed out, only sparing a moment to kiss his mother goodbye and scratch Sammy behind the ear before disappearing out into the chilly evening.
Ashton and Calum had convinced Farmer Hood to let them leave work a little early for the occasion, promising to make up the hour by working over for the rest of the week. Michael was incredibly grateful to them and Luke, feeling an almost overwhelming fondness for them as he jogged towards their meeting place.
Sure enough, all three boys were huddled together at the far end of the village green, waiting for him. They smiled as he approached, each of them ruffling his hair or punching his shoulder playfully as soon as he reached them. 
“Are you ready for your little birthday party?” Ashton asked cheerfully as he led the way to his house. 
Michael nodded enthusiastically drawing a chuckle from each of his friends.
“We clubbed together to get you a little something.” Luke announced, earning himself a nudge from Calum.
“It was meant to be a surprise, Luke!” He huffed irritably. “He was meant to think we hadn’t brought him anything!” In the dying light, Michael managed to hide his fond gaze from Calum beneath the wooly hat Mr Robertson had gifted to him earlier. His feelings for the slightly younger boy seemed to grow more by the day and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could conceal them successfully.
When they reached Ashton’s house, Michael kicked off his shoes and followed his friends into the little kitchen. “Mum had been cooking before she left for work so it’s quite warm in here.” Ashton said, taking a seat at the table that had already been filled with some special treats. 
“I hope you like apple pie.” Calum laughed. “My aunt insisted on making one of you.”
“Well whatever he doesn’t eat, I’ll make sure it doesn’t get wasted!” Luke giggled loudly as he slipped into the seat next to Ashton.
***
After they’d eaten, Luke, Calum and Ashton presented Michael with a little bundle of gifts which included a small bar of chocolate, socks and a shiny new bell for his bike. He couldn’t find the right words to thank them, knowing that none of them had much money and the fact that they’d spent any of it on him made his heart feel so full.
They spent a little while talking in Ashton’s kitchen until Luke suggested playing some parlour games. The youngest friend had always been terrible at charades and ‘who am I?’, so unsurprisingly the brief games descended into fits of giggles in a matter of a few minutes.
After a few failed attempts at completing a game, Calum finally declared it hopeless and curled up next to the fire instead. His lips were still curved in a pretty smile as he patted the spot next to him. Michael knew that his friend could be indicating to any of the other boys to sit next to him but the birthday boy chose to believe that the gesture was for him. 
Luke and Ashton probably didn’t even notice the way Calum’s eyes sparkled in the firelight, or the way that a muscle twitches in his jaw when he’s nervous or tense. They were all things that Michael shouldn’t be noticing either but little ‘Calum’ things like that occupied his brain more than he cared to mention.
“Okay, so I’m just gonna say it…” Luke announced as he dropped to the ground next to Michael.
The blonde’s stomach lurched as he realised he was staring at Calum. Luke had obviously noticed and now his birthday was destined to be the worst day of his life because the three most important people in the world to him were going to hate him...
“I know I’m not the only one that’s noticed, but you two are hopeless so I’m going to be the one to get it out in the open.” Luke continued, pointing an accusing finger at Michael and then Calum.
Michael’s brain wouldn’t work fast enough. He needed to shut Luke down, if he put into words, what Michael knew in his heart, it’d all be over. His brain wouldn’t work though, his mouth felt dry and no words would force themselves from his throat. 
“Elaine has been all over Ashton since forever, and it’s been long enough since Jane now.” The youngest friend shrugged, turning his attention to Ashton who seemed to have been silently bracing himself for this conversation. 
Michael felt his body relax as he let out a steady breath. He’d never felt so relieved to have the subject of Ashton’s love life brought up before. 
The eldest friend sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and furrowing his eyebrows as though he was trying to block out Luke’s words. “She’s not interested in me, Luke.” He said. “Elaine could have pretty much whoever she wants, why would she even look twice at me?”
“Because she’s been in love with you since she was a little kid.” Calum chuckled. “I’ve only been here for a few months and even I’ve picked up on that.” 
Michael was momentarily distracted by the beautiful sound of Calum’s laugh but he managed to bring his focus back to the conversation to add a simple comment. “Calum’s right, Elaine has always had eyes for you, Ash. You’re the only one that’s never noticed.”
The brunette boy slumped back, propping himself up in his panic elbows. “You’re just saying that because you think I need a girlfriend…” Ashton huffed, although his eyes had started to glaze over a little like he was daydreaming. 
Smirking knowingly, Luke nudged his friend’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t lie to you, Ashy boy.” He insisted. “You’re just wasting time by convincing yourself that she doesn’t want you. You could be using that time to woo her.” 
Michael could tell that Ashton was thinking about it carefully. He obviously thought Elaine was pretty and they’d always had a lot in common, it seemed crazy that they weren’t already an item. 
“I don’t know…” Ashton sighed, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “After Jane, I just-”
“Forget her!” Calum scoffed, reaching over to nuge Ashton’s leg. “She was never right for you and you shouldn’t let her ruin your chances with Elaine. You have a chance to be happy with someone who really likes you, Ash.” He explained, his expression and tone serious enough to pull everyone’s full attention.
 Ashton dropped his gaze, curling in on himself a bit. He seemed to get lost in his own thoughts for a long moment, during which everyone else stayed silent, giving him the time he needed to process his feelings.
Michael watched his eldest friend for a moment, but he could feel Calum’s gaze burning a hole into the side of his face. His heart seemed to beat out a hard rhythm in his chest as he summoned the courage to meet Calum’s eyes. The slightly younger boy’s expression had softened a little bit, but there was something burning deep in his eyes that Michael couldn’t ignore. It would have been impossible to explain to anyone else, but Michael just knew that the ‘something’ was a hidden meaning in the speech he’d just given to Ashton. In that moment, Michael realised that his friend’s words were not only meant to give their older friend the courage to finally ask out Elaine, but also to let Michael know that he also had the chance to be with someone who really liked him.
***
A couple of hours later, Ashton and Luke claimed the eldest friend’s bed for themselves, falling asleep almost immediately after snuggling into the warm blankets. 
Even though their evening had been filled with a lot more fun after they’d convinced Ashton to go for it with Elaine, Michael’s mind had been constantly working over Calum’s ‘hidden message’ to him. He was convinced that’s what it'd been and his head was spinning from it. 
His mind was racing too much to sleep and so he’d started a whispered rambling conversation with Calum about how he wanted to learn to make things for his loved ones for Christmas. “... I'm not really good at anything, though.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to buy everyone something.”
Calum let out a quiet giggle as he snuggled further into his blankets. “I’ll settle for a promise that you’ll carry on being my friend.”
The room was pretty dark but Calum was lying close enough that Michael could make out the younger boy’s sad eyes, despite the faint smile that was still curving the corners of his lips. “Why would I ever stop being your friend?” He asked in a hushed voice, shuffling a bit closer to Calum.
Calum shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve just never really had friends like you, Luke and Ashton before.” He replied. “You're the first people who’ve ever really given me the time of day, besides my family.”
A frown creased Michael’s face as he automatically reached out to his friend under the blankets, curling his fingers gently around Calum’s lower arm. “Why on earth wouldn’t people give you their time?” He asked, genuinely confused as to how anyone couldn’t be instantly in love with Calum when they met him. “You’re one of the funniest, kindest, most caring people I’ve ever met. I feel like you’ve been my friend for as long as Ash and Luke have.”
A little of the worry that had been etched into Calum’s handsome features disappeared at Michael’s words and his smile looked a little more natural now. “Really?” He asked, his voice barely a while as he covered Michael’s hand with his own. “Most people just see the colour of my skin and automatically assume I’m nothing like them before running in the opposite direction.”
Two opposing but equally powerful feelings erupted inside Michael at once. Nervous but excited butterflies burst into life in his tummy at the feeling of Calum’s fingers curling around his hand, yet a searing anger burned in his chest at the thought of anyone disrespecting Calum because of the colour of his skin. “Well that’s their loss.” Michael whispered, shuffling closer to Calum so that he could pull him into a hug. “I wouldn’t change one bit of you.”
Calum let out a relieved chuckle as he nestled into the hug. Michael tried to enjoy the close physical connection without worrying too much about how he should not be feeling those butterflies in his tummy.
“You’re a good friend, Mike.” Calum whispered. His breath ghosted over Michael’s cheek as he spoke but the slightly older boy managed to control the shiver it caused. “It’s been a difficult few weeks with the bombings in London, it’s like I’m constantly worried I’ll get letter saying that my mum’s been injured or worse…”
Michael stroked Calum’s back in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. He couldn’t imagine how scared his friend must be at the moment. The blitz was rumbling on, wreaking havoc in most of Britain’s major cities but London was by far bearing the worst of it. “I really hope the air strikes stop soon.” Michael uttered, not really knowing what else he could say. “You know I’m always here if you need to talk or anything.”
Tightening his hold around Michael, Calum places a kiss on the pale boy’s cheek before pulling back a little. “I know, and I appreciate it a lot.” He replied. “I’m always here for you too, Mike.”
The younger boy closed his eyes and Michael could just make out a faint smile on his lips as he whispered goodnight. Michael couldn’t help but notice that Calum didn’t remove his arm that was draped over him, it made the blonde boy melt a little, he loved being this close to Calum. He knew that he shouldn’t live it, he shouldn’t feel this excitement bubbling inside of him and his skin shouldn’t tingle whenever his newest friend made physical contact with him. Michael was sure he was getting quite good at hiding all of that but right here and now, I’m the darkness of Ashton’s bedroom, he allowed those feelings to flow freely through him. 
January 1941
The papers were saying it was the worst snowfall since 1888. Life in the village had all but ground to halt because of it. 
Calum shouldn’t have been surprised, of course. He’d been looking forward to a little birthday get together with his friends since Christmas had been sort of a write-off. Michael had been forced to stay home to play happy families with his alcoholic father whilst Luke had been carted off to visit his grandparents for the festive season. Luckily, Ashton had still been around, in fact he’d spent a fair bit of his spare time at the farm since Luke had called him out about his feelings for Elaine. Calum wasn’t complaining, he liked spending time with Ashton, even when he wasn’t the main reason for the older boy’s presence. 
Despite his increased interest in Elaine, Ashton still hadn’t actually asked her out yet and it was starting to get tedious. As much Calum enjoyed his friend staying behind after work and visiting on Sundays, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand the blatant flirting and almost confessions. If something didn’t give soon, Calum was going to have to take matters into his own hands.
Not today, though. January 25th was Calum’s day. His first birthday since moving to Yorkshire and he was determined to enjoy every second of it, even if the weather had decided to betray him.
He’d enjoyed a nice day so far, his aunt and uncle had treated him just as they did their own children on their birthdays. They’d given him a nice breakfast and some little gifts before assuring him that Don and Elaine could manage feeding all the animals on their own for one day. 
Having been given the day off, Calum spent his time preparing for the little gathering he’d planned with his friends. Wendy helped him clean the parlour whilst Mrs Hood made what party food she could from the farm’s leftovers. 
All in all, Calum couldn’t really be happier given the circumstances of his 16th birthday. He’d already received letters and gifts from both of his parents and his sister so he was in generally high spirits. 
As the time that his friends should have arrived came and went, Calum’s good mood faltered. He knew the bad weather meant that it might take them longer to get to the farm but he never once thought that it would deter them altogether.
Around an hour after his friends were due to arrive, Wendy and Elaine came into the parlour with sympathetic looks on their faces as they invited him to join them in the main sitting room. “We can play board games!” The youngest girl chimed, gripping Calum’s hand and gesturing towards the door. 
Calum tried to smile but his heart felt heavy. He’d been looking forward to tonight all week. As much as he loved the company of his family, there was nothing he enjoyed more than spending time with his friends. “That sounds nice.” He replied, forcing himself to stand up. “We should probably eat all of this food your mum made too…”
Wendy nodded excitedly grabbing a plate of the little cakes she’d helped to make earlier in the day. A tiny giggle escaped Calum as he picked up a couple more of the plates. Elaine gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze before she followed his lead and gathered up the rest of the food laying on the coffee table. 
The little group hadn’t quite made it out of the room before the doorbell rang. Calum almost dropped the plates he was holding in his newly ignited excitement.
Elaine laughed as she placed the food she’d been holding back on the table before heading off to answer the door. Calum did the same, following his cousin like an excited puppy. 
When he reached the hallway, his heart felt suddenly ten times happier as his eyes landed in a very windswept and cold looking Michael.
“You made it!” Calum exclaimed. “I was worried you’d all forgotten or something.”
Michael gave his friend an apologetic smile as he shuffled out of his coat and pulled off his gloves, scarf and hat before hanging them up on the hooks near the front door. “We’d never forget your birthday!” He assured Calum. “I’m sorry it’s only me that was able to make it here, though.” His green eyes looked suddenly very sad and Calum had an overwhelming urge to do whatever it might take to make them shine happily again. “Ashton’s grandparents arrived for impromptu visit and Luke’s come down with a really bad cold so…”
“That’s okay!” Calum cut in. Even though he was disappointed by Ashton’s and Luke’s absence, having Michael there on his birthday meant the most to him. He’d developed a deep bond with the blonde boy in the few short months since he’d moved to the farm. They shared a lot of the same interests and since their little heart-to-heart on Michael’s birthday, their friendship had only blossomed further. “We have food in the parlour and aunt May lit the fire in there for us too!”
Michael’s smile became softer and more genuine as he followed Calum to the parlour. “Ash and Luke are really sorry they couldn’t make it, they’ve sent presents and told me to wish you a happy birthday from them.”
“Ah they didn’t have to do any of that!” Calum insisted, closing the parlour door before gesturing for Michael to take a seat. 
The blonde dropped into one of the cushioned chairs before holding out a little paper bag that Calum hadn’t even noticed his friend had been carrying. 
“I’ll look at them later.” Calum said, setting the bag down near the coffee table, “let’s eat first! I’m starving!”
Michael giggled, his emerald eyes sparkling prettily as he nodded. “Me too! It took me so much longer to walk here through all of that snow!”
Calum patted his friend’s arm affectionately before handing him a sandwich. “Here eat this!”
Accepting the sandwich gratefully, Michael took a bite. “Your aunt makes the best sandwiches.” He mumbled as soon as he swallowed.
Calum couldn’t really disagree with that. Then again, he didn’t often disagree with anything Michael said or did.
***
After a couple of hours of fun conversation with Michael, Calum’s disappointment at only having one friend turn up to his birthday party had long since fizzled away. 
Michael was like a ball of sunshine. He just radiated love and happiness, two things that Calum was quickly becoming addicted to. He found himself staring at the blonde boy dreamily as Michael rattled on about gossip he’d heard in the shop. “...And apparently Mr Greenwell won’t even talk to her now, so that must make things very difficult seeing as they live right next door to each other!”
The way that Michael’s eyes gleamed excitedly at the idle gossip, made Calum’s heart melt. If Michael was a girl, he’s sure he’d have kissed her by now. The fleeting notion brought butterflies to Calum’s tummy as his gaze drifted to Michael’s lips. If he was entirely honest with himself, he wanted to kiss Michael right now. He didn’t care if they were both boys. Why should such a silly detail like that stop Calum from following his heart.
“I’m sorry.” Michael giggled, blushing a little as he realised he’d been talking for over ten minutes, barely pausing for a breath. “You probably don’t care about stupid village gossip…”
“Of course I do!” Calum lied. He’d never been good at lying but if a tiny fib would save Michael any embarrassment, Calum would definitely do it. “Living out here in the farm, I don’t get to hear much about what’s going on in the village. I rely on you to keep me up to date!”
Michael smiled at the compliment before shuffling a little closer to Calum. The two of them were sitting cross legged by the fire, forgoing the comfort of the armchairs in order to be as warm as possible. At least that’s the reason Calum would admit to himself. Secretly, he thought that the tiny contact of Michael’s knee brushing against his own was well worth the pins and needles in his feet and lower legs.
“Well now that your village news bulletin is over, can I give you your birthday present from me?” Michael asked, his tone suddenly adopting a shyness that only Calum alone seemed to be privy to.
The slightly younger boy nodded trying not to let the forbidden thoughts about what he’d really like his present from Michael to be. 
The blonde reached past Calum to grab the paper bag that was still sitting next to the armchair where he’d left it earlier. As Michael rummaged around to find the present that was for him, Calum automatically placed a hand on his friend’s back and immediately regretted it when he had to try and ignore the tiny tremor that ran through Michael before he looked back, meeting Calum’s gaze with slightly startled eyes.
Not being able to bring himself to apologise, Calum simply removed his hand and asked “did you find it?” 
Michael hummed his confirmation but the blush in his cheeks told Calum that he was still thinking about that fleeting touch. If he was being entirely honest with himself, Calum couldn’t shake off the fuzzy feeling it had given him either.
“So…” Michael said, finally sitting back next to Calum, a little closer than he was before, but still not quite as close as the younger boy would have liked. “I wish I could have made something for you but I’m terrible at everything so I got you these instead.” He pulled out a tiny paper bag, that bashful, slightly scared look back on his pretty face. 
Calum knew as soon as he took the bag from Michael what was inside it and the thought almost brought a tear to his eye. “Cola cubes?” He asked in a shocked whisper. 
Nodding sort of proudly, Michael gestured for his friend to open the bag. “I know they’re your favourites.” He clarified, fiddling sort of nervously with a strand of his hair. 
Calum opened the bag and licked his lips as the familiar but increasingly rare, sugary smell hit him. Despite his almost overwhelming urge to take one of the sweets, he immediately closed the bag and held it out to Michael. “I can’t accept these…” He said quietly, “you must have used your sweets rations for the week on them.” 
Michael’s face took on a hurt expression as he shrugged. “Yeah but they were worth it…” he admitted in a reserved tone. “I’d rather have spent the rations on cola cubes for you than anything for myself.” 
The sincerity in Michael’s voice turned Calum’s insides into jelly. He really wasn't sure how much longer he could resist doing something he knew he should never do. “You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met you know.” He said, a tiny giggle punctuating his sentence. 
The light blush in Michael’s cheeks deepened and he rapidly buried his face in Calum’s shoulder like a shy child. “I just like doing nice things for my friends.” He mumbled, although Calum was too busy fighting the urge to kiss the top of the blonde’s head to take too much notice of what he was saying. “Especially you.” Michael added, chancing a glance at Calum through his lashes. 
Calum was fighting his urges with every ounce of strength he had as he forced a smile and gently backed away so that he could stand up. “At least let me share them with you.” He insisted, offering Michael a hand to help him to his feet. “Let’s eat them in my room because I actually have a gift for you as well.”
Michael looked shocked but followed Calum out into the hallway and up the stairs. They remained silent but their smiles never faltered until Calum’s bedroom door was closed and his little room was filled with soft lamplight. Only then did a tension settle over the two of them, it felt suddenly romantic as Michael perched on the edge of Calum’s bed, glancing up at him expectantly but with a slight fear lurking the depths of his emerald eyes. Perhaps Calum was the only other person in the world who could understand that mixture of emotions in that moment because he couldn’t think of any other way to describe his own feelings. 
There was definitely a nervous anticipation surrounding them as Calum tried to decide whether his gift to Michael was a little too on the romantic side. He couldn’t really back out of it now though, not when Michael was eagerly awaiting a gift. 
Trying to shake off his nerves, Calum crosses the room to where he’d hidden the gift behind his lamp. “I wanted to give you this on your birthday, but I never really got a chance and then we didn’t see each other much over Christmas so…”
“It’s okay Calum.” Michael smiled softly. “I know I’ll love it, whatever it is!” He looked so soft in the dim light that Calum almost forgot what he was doing. “Besides, it’s always nice to get gifts when it’s not even a special occasion!”
Calum couldn’t really argue with that and so he picked up the little postcard that he had stashed behind his lamp a couple of months ago and took a deep breath. “I know that this caught your eye the first time you saw my postcards and so I wanted you to have it.” 
All of the fear and nerves vanished from Michael’s face as he took the post card and stared down delightedly at the picture of Buckingham Palace. “Calum!” He gasped, as the younger boy sat down beside him.. “You don't have to give me this…”
“I want to.” Calum replied with a slight giggle. “You seemed to really like it and I wrote you a little message on the back.” He gently slid the postcard from Michael’s grip, trying not to pay attention to the way his fingers tingled when they brushed against Michael’s. He turned the card over to display his neat handwriting. 
It’s a date. C x
Michael read the incredibly short message out loud before tilting his head to meet Calum’s gaze. “Cal… this is…”
Calum couldn’t quite read Michael’s tone. He could be choked up because he thought it was a thoughtful gift but he could just as easily be trying to Calum that this was perhaps a step beyond friendship that he didn’t want to take. “It’s too sappy isn’t it?” He asked, trying not to sound too hurt or disappointed. “I shouldn’t have wrote that message, especially not with a kiss on the end it’s too…”
“It’s perfect.” Michael interjected, his tone quiet but incredibly certain as he leaned a touch closer to Calum. “I'm really excited for our London date after the war is over.” He smiled, although it faded from his face as his gaze dropped to land on Calum’s lips. “And the kiss is a cute touch…”
Michael’s face seemed to drift impossibly closer to Calum’s and their lips were almost touching before either of them registered what was happening. When reality hit, Michael paused, seemingly frozen in fear, or perhaps giving Calum the time to back up if he wanted to. 
After a short moment, the feeling of Michael’s breath ghosting over his lips spurred Calum into action. It was clear that Michael wanted the same thing he did but he was too scared to go through with it. Calum would have to make the move. He placed his trembling hand on Michael’s cheek and stroked over his pale skin with the pad of his thumb. “Michael.” He whispered. “Kissing you is I’ve thought about since the moment we met.”
The blonde nodded before melting into Calum’s touch as his eyes drifted closed and Calum finally closed the gap between his own lips and Michael’s. 
The kiss was absolutely everything Calum had ever imagined it to be. Michael felt soft and pliant against him and their lips moved in perfect synchronisation. There was no way of telling how long it lasted but Calum was panting for air by the time they broke apart. 
Michael’s cheeks were so flushed as he pulled away, his eyes sparkling with some emotion that Calum couldn’t quite identify. It was definitely a positive one though. “I’ve wanted that since you first moved here, too.” Michael admitted. “I know it’s wrong but…”
Calum shook his head. His heart was still racing from one of the best moments of his whole life and he didn’t want to ruin it by talking about the very reason he hadn’t made it happen sooner. “I don’t care about that.” He said quietly. “I don’t know how anything that can feel this amazing could be wrong.” 
Michael giggled and shuffled closer to curl into Calum’s side. “You’re right.” He agreed, resting his head on Calum’s shoulder. “Do you fancy doing it again?”
Calum chuckled before placing a kiss into Michael’s hair. “Definitely, but i need to catch my breath first.” He replied, stroking Micheal's arm gently over the sleeve of his thick jumper. “Besides, I love holding you like this.”
In way of a silent agreement, Michael nestled further into Calum’s hold. “Good because I could happily stay like this forever.”
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neocityfics · 4 years
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2096: Zodiac
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Chapter: Intro < ❝  Prologue ❞  > Chapter One
➥ Chapter List
Genre: Cyberpunk inspired, mafia-esque, not-so dystopian, angst
Pairing: Doctor! Taeyong x Reader [Sprinkle of other pairings tbd]
Summary: 2094, the disaster happens. The richest become richer with their reddened backs turned, the people around you growing more and more tired, and a certain Dr. Lee plans to change it all. Lucas unknowingly pulls you into the frenzy, and you become part of this confusing and painful process. You catch yourself floating between the conflict of twelve gangs and a world where circuits begin replacing flesh.
Warnings: Moderate cursing, death, heavy events similar to real world situations
A/N: Throughout the writing, there’ll be links (indicated by ▶ Ambience) for a more immersive experience. These are YouTube links, so it may be difficult to switch between YouTube and Tumblr (especially for those unable to have video pop-outs on mobile), so please keep this in mind. I’m also working on a Spotify playlist. I really hope you enjoy my first published piece!
▶ Ambience
The sea of neon purples, pinks, and blues drowned out whatever background activity filled the hustling life of the city. Light harshly touches the exterior of small shops endlessly lining the streets. Though full of living people, it always seemed a bit lonely. Everyone for themselves as it had been before the disaster happened, before life became even harder and resources scarce. Half the world is gone, but for whatever reason, humans continue to persevere. This strength is a unique feat, but it comes with consequences. With the remaining 3 billion people left on Earth, only the Eurasian continent remains the only habitable land thus forcing people to squeeze in tightly. It’s like this everywhere-- tiny housing, famines, and the overgrowing hunger to hold power and wealth much as we did before. The rich stay rich, the poor stay poor.
Life’s tough in Neostone. With hundreds of thousands of people and little food, restaurants struggle to keep open with enough to sell. Fresh water sources and land were replaced with tall housing structures and corporate buildings. Most have to work two or more jobs. Education is non-existent and relies on parents teaching kids different skills through child labor. Further industrialization in the little space the planet has left led to bouts of acid rain from overworked factories. The world’s leaders morph into the same guise: ties stained with blood, suits the product of cheap labor showed off status, and their white-gloved hands tightly gripped heavy silver suitcases. Corruption still plagues the broken systems that hang over society, sustained from before the disaster happened. It seems like we’ll never learn.
Sure, it’s difficult to get by day to day without much, yet the communities outside the wealthy rich businesses were tight-knit. Everyone knows each other’s names. People often trade food scraps for little luxuries to feel any ounce of happiness. Friends hang out near street food vendors where most people are, begging for any kind of calorie. While life in Neostone is tough, the citizens depend on each other for care, not anyone from above. 
I don’t think of it much-- how different life would be if the disaster didn’t happen, if the world had never been touched by so much chaos. I knew it’d be the same, that I’d end up still struggling to get from morning to morning. Even with the big drop in population, we live as sardines squished together under a layer of plastic that suffocates us. Nothing has changed. I lost everything.
Though the neons felt like home and they were all I’ve known for the past couple of years, I do remember who I was before this all went downhill. Fresh in college with a mind set on (major(s)/minor(s)), and although uncertain of the future, I was ready to break free from family and understand what it means to live a good life. Debt would hit me hard on my head but I was certain to find ways to pay it off without burdening others. Between jobs and school, I felt like there was a purpose for my movement, for my existence, to be a small gear of a clockwork world. For three years, I managed to get stuff done and become my own separate identity. I never felt more myself for the longest time. One more year to go, I said to myself as my third year comes to a close. But fourth year never came. It happened. The start of summer into my last year in college was the best time I’ve had in my life. During an internship in Japan, I’d gotten a handle of how it was in the real world as part of the workforce. A month into the most enjoyable moments of my life came the disaster.
▶ Ambience, Ambience
I watched the television screens throughout the subway, making my way to my 9am train when the static and distortions of color accompanied the shaking ground beneath me. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing as the news shifted to an emergency alert. All of a sudden, hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, building collapses, and tsunamis were destroying the western hemisphere. The disaster was inexplicable, the most spontaneous event in the history of Earth. I hid in the nearest shelter in Tokyo as realization hit how horrifying everything was. Buildings toppling left and right, people being crushed beneath the debris, splatters of fresh red on the broken bits of glass and metal heaps. That was a day of absolute terror. Within twenty-four hours, half the world was gone. My heart sank as the disasters settled throughout the world, and the news focused on the western hemisphere where I had lived most of my life. That part of the world was gone. My family and college friends were gone. 
And I was left alone in Japan.
But the world didn’t change. The same evil corporate heads enforced the same evil policies and practices. The same tired faces dragged their tired bodies until no end just to, at the bare minimum, survive. No matter what form the world took, this was our fate until we went extinct. The only thing that changed perhaps was how many of us were kept in that system, and that the system favoring the wealthy became stronger. So the cycle continues.
▶ Ambience
With the scraps of money I had left on my name and picking up little jobs, I was able to get into a micro apartment. The government was eager to take advantage of the situation and make just enough housing to keep people happy and off the streets, but also enough to ensure some people couldn’t get out of the vicious system so labor was cheap. My space is dingy at best and quite small, but it’s all the comfort I have. Not a day passes where I’m not grateful for a private place to sleep, do business, and let myself feel at ease. Others aren’t so lucky, sleeping behind their food and merchandise stalls or in the nooks and crannies of back alleys. Weeks passed into months where my body ached from overwork, the same for the people I’ve been surrounded with and worked alongside. It’s only been two years since everyone had to rebuild what’s been lost, but it looked only slightly different in Neostone where Tokyo had once been. Only the mega cities were somewhat unscathed by the disaster, and businesses collectively chipped in to remodel them. Rural and suburban areas were either flooded or full of toxic waste.
People from all races and backgrounds who survived into the aftermath of the disaster poured into the cities. I was kindly taken into the dangerous but welcoming community of downtown Neostone, where cooking and selling food in addition to helping at clinic became my new life. At the clinic, I met someone I familiarized myself with to be comfortable and close enough. Having someone around lifted up my motivation. Going by Lucas, a name he adopted to fit in with the rest of downtown Neostone, he worked assiduously the same shifts as me at Pearl Park Clinic. Besides weekends, Lucas and I leave for work together as he lives just a few rooms down in the complex. While working at the clinic down on East Row, he comes to visit for a bite at the street food stall that keeps me busy half the week. Throughout getting to know him within two years, he revealed he also lost family he was close with-- a younger brother and sister who by the sound of his stories were needy brats that he loved so much. It hurts to know they’re gone like my friends are. I was glad I could relate to him and also be someone to lean on. On a roller-coaster of life’s tests, Lucas and I know we have each other’s back.
▶ Ambience
Today was like most days, another Friday morning. The green flash of LED at 7:00am with a loud beeping, a quick splash of cold water against my face, clean clothes, and a quick bite of fruit. The same mindless routine guides me out of the door of the room and down the hall. From my room, 716, to Lucas’s room, 718, was only a few meters away thanks to the tiny size of rooms. I knock once, twice, then thrice, but no reply. Strange. I’m used to Lucas whipping the door wide open at the slightest sound of my footsteps to poke his head out and greet me loudly. Should I knock again? Call him? My hand gravitated towards the doorknob, uncertain if we’re on the kind of terms where I can barge in whenever. “Lucas,” I decide to start softly, “I’m here now, we can leave for the clinic.” No reply. Maybe I’ll text him. Unlocking my phone, a smile cracked on my face as a photo of Lucas and I hanging out with some other friends posed in front of our favorite ice cream shop flashed across the screen. No red numbered badge on the messaging app. Today feels a little bit unusual. Typically, he texts when he needs help or won’t be at work. Inhaling in, I choose to try the knob in which a turn and a push of the door unveils the dark, musky room. A room with no Lucas. Noticing the tension in my face and shoulders, I relax them and try not to think of anything bad that could happen to him. Maybe he needed to stop somewhere before going to work. Maybe he’s just out to get groceries and whatnot. Maybe he’s just busy doing something else. I trust he’ll get back to me soon, but the weird pit in my stomach bugged my thoughts.
Down the long winding halls, unlocking my phone seemed all I could do, the worry taking over. My pace quickened. It’s 8:00am, the clinic starts up at 9:00am. It’s a long walk through a rather sketchy part of downtown, but it's one I’ve mastered throughout the couple of years and certainly made friends in. Reaching the staircase, my breath was noticeably shallower. This was always the worst part. It took much time and energy just to get to the first floor. Upon stepping into the lobby, I swiftly pick up an umbrella from the community box set near the entrance and begin my path out. The clerk at the counter peaks over his rather raunchy motorcycle magazine, riddled with messy yellow text, and he subtly waves at me. I send the gesture back, taking my leave from the complex. Rain besets Neostone often, the overcast weather permitting low fog and grey clouds to lurk the bubble that is downtown. Chatter and noise blend together from all sides with the rushing waters eagerly greeting storm drains and early risers setting up their stores. In comparison to the staircase, the lengthy walk to the clinic is always a breeze, and it helps calm the nerves as I ready myself for a busier pace of day. Every five minutes, I unlocked my phone again to see if Lucas had contacted me. Still no sign of him.
▶ Ambience
After what seems like the longest walk of my life, some staff of the community medical clinic greet me and provide a list of my duties right away. 9:00am right on the dot. I take in what needs to get done, reading off the slightly crumpled paper between my fingers. Towel laundry… Disinfect beds in the North Wing… Prepare a warm epsom salt bath for patients in the East Wing… Always busy on Fridays when the work week is over and people live out their less-than-safe life decisions. Less work, more injuries, and more patients. A voice sharply interrupts, “Hey! Where’s Lucas? You two always arrive here together.” My heart sank. So he isn’t at work. Where could that man possibly be?
Tension grows but a sigh leaves my chest as I formulate some sort of response to the nurse, “He might be sick, I’m not sure where he went. Usually he tells me, but I’m sure he has his reasons.” The lady nodded and clicked her tongue as if irritated. A pause before I ask her, “Why, are we short-staffed today?” She gives a vexed nod again, taking her leave as another staff member urges her towards a patient. Stupid question. We always are understaffed. Located on the intersection of Bear Walk and Oak Lane as suspension railways weave between buildings, Pearl Park Medical Clinic threw itself into one of downtown’s busiest and most dangerous areas. Crimes being committed everyday that send people into the clinic, drunkards finding their way through the doors to spew anger uncalled for against the staff, and the homeless just asking for a pillow or blanket while they sleep outside as they’re reminded of the cold, hard pavement soaked with rain. Of course, we must treat everyone’s needs… and wants in some cases. Only a couple dozen of us work the two-floored piece of the tall establishment which also houses struggling law firms, compact grocery stores, beauty salons, and wireless carriers. This place is a mini mall, but not for the faint-of-heart mall goers. Murder, sabotage, and sickness run rampant. However, it’s the place Lucas and I call home. From Tuesday to Friday, from 9:00am to 8:00pm, my hands pruned from washing equipment and fabric constantly, legs moved to and from wing to wing to prepare stations, mind boggled by the surprising sights of Neostone’s everyday life. The dirty white walls, gowns, and noise make me feel rejuvenation each time I clock in for shifts. Home. A place of belonging. Everyone accepted me in, even as a seemingly insignificant part of the operation. For Lucas, he tells me so often as if I forget easily, it’s a dream come half true.
Lucas aspired to be a doctor. It was his lifelong desire to help others, fascinated by how many times the human body tested the limits and broke them, and how he could save someone’s life. That was his purpose. Unfortunately, he fell into the same boat as I did, not being able to finish college because of the disaster. As per hiring policy, Pearl Park requires employees to be degree holders in biology, chemistry, biochemistry, or any other related field. Lucas was studying biochemistry with a neuroscience minor. Beyond impressive were his grades by what Lucas boasts to me, though I can’t confirm since the disaster destroyed his documents. In his third year, he already started planning his senior capstone project with research on the nervous system of several types of animals. We bonded over doing labs, the silliest or most dreadful courses we sat through, and how the university dining food sucked and ripped us all off. But it was a waste. In this new society, formal higher education is not important. Some schooling still persists, but they’re limited to small, dusty, singular classrooms led by underpaid teachers. Families tend to force children into work as it’s deemed more beneficial in learning practical home economics rather than mathematical theories, ethics, physical sciences, and so much more. The mindset of the remaining world focused on survival versus getting jobs of higher pay and better conditions. No one could blame us when authority breaks and the top 1% fully turn their back on you. Despite being turned down for medical practice, Lucas still wholeheartedly accepted the situation and embraced helping out in the clinic. Here and there with a bit of discreteness, Lucas does patch up some patients with bandage, disinfect cuts, and give advice for those with physical pain. Might I add, he’s quite popular with the patients as well, handsome and charming as he is. I’ll admit to it, I’m jealous of how he lifts everyone up in the toughest hours. Shortly after he joined, my arrival a week later brought him joy knowing I was stuck in the same sticky situation he was in. His passion could be seen a mile away. On the other hand, I just needed this job to keep myself afloat like everyone else.
I snap back to reality when one of the doctors, Dr. Lee who made a beeline towards one of the stations, bumped my side. Asshole, I think to myself. He’s head of the Pearl Park operation, so I don’t feel the desire to cause trouble by reprimanding him. This job allows me to hang onto my existence and sanity with my apartment, I couldn’t afford to lose it. His voice booms suddenly, startling nearby staff, “Is Lucas not here? I need him to help.” His voice trails off and erupts again, “With surgery preparation on Monday,” he swivels his head to one of the lead nurses, “We’re doing a skin graft for a severely burned person.” Despite the cold aura, his face contorted with concern and urgency. The patients put complete faith into him as he’s been a well-known medical practitioner since before the disaster. My imagination briefly ponders the severity of the injury as if I haven’t seen my fair share of nasty burn wounds. Shoulders shudder for a moment, and then I begin towards the North Wing where my first duty awaits.
▶ Ambience
Phew. That might’ve been the longest shift of my life. All day, the image of Lucas constantly itched at the back of my mind. It was difficult to focus, but I managed to get through the hours until 8:00pm. With my feet aching from exhaustion and a slight headache from lack of food or water, I decide to pay a visit to my other favorite place: East Row’s finest Chinese street food, Electric Egg. In my innermost thoughts, I’d hope to see Lucas there, munching away on tea eggs. That was his go-to snack after shifts at the clinic. Being on your feet all day does quite a bit of damage and leaves the stomach to growl, to fight for a delicious energy replenishment. When I arrive, one of my coworkers greets me cheerfully, shouting and waving my name as I draw closer, much to my embarrassment. “Sicheng,” my voice laced with laughter, “how’s business!” Our most common exchange, with the most common reply. With a hardy laugh, he shoots back, “The everyday thing, you know. Slow.” Sicheng’s smile invites me towards the side of the stall as he prepares what he knows are my regular dishes of choice. “Xi’an pancake and sesame tang yuan, coming right up!” As if on cue, my stomach beams in excitement and I lay my hand on it to feel the grumble, making Sicheng to laugh. “How’s work by the way, and where’s Lucas? I have his tea eggs already here.” I glanced to the side of the cart Sicheng worked away at, and indeed Lucas’s tea eggs sat prettily in a mug, waiting to be eaten.
I sigh, turning Sicheng’s grin into a straight line. He’s observant and knows how to read the room well. After a pause to gather myself, I sit down on a stool facing Sicheng and begin to tell him my worries. “I’m not sure if maybe I’m overthinking this, but Lucas always tells me if he’s not feeling well enough to work or go out somewhere. But he was gone this morning, he wasn’t in his room when I left for the clinic. He didn’t show up to the shift, and so many bad things could’ve happened, especially in the area we’re in. I’ve been checking my phone the entire day, but I’ve gotten no resp--”
“My tea eggs! You’re the best Sicheng, I really needed this after a long day, oh my god. You guys have no idea, my belly’s been howling!”
I froze. I know that voice too damn well. Anger immediately boiled within me, and it burst like the hot oil that hits Sicheng’s arms as he cooked. “You. Piece. Of. Shit,” I whipped my entire self around to face the tall man who unsurprisingly turned out to be Lucas with his disheveled hair framing his stupid little face. “Did you not see your call log? It’s just me, me, me, me, me, and oh guess who… me!” The tone in my words frightened even me, even more so realizing both Lucas and Sicheng’s widened eyes. I earned some dirty looks from customers as well. Nevertheless, I was pissed.
Lucas’s heightened shoulders steadily fall. “Hey, I’m sorry… Something really urgent came up, and it’s very personal to me. I hope you understand. I should’ve told you as soon as it came up.” His jaw clenches, his fists tightening their grip against the counter as he sternly looks at me across the food stall. I shake my head and roll my eyes, gaining a scolding expression from Sicheng who’s confusion was written all over his face. Deep within me, I know Lucas is sincere.
I start back up, loosening my voice to become gentle, “Eat your tea eggs, please. They’re getting cold and Sicheng prepared them for you early.” Silence followed, then the chewing noises from Lucas hungrily devouring his food. Maybe today was a hard day by the looks of it. Lucas took care of his appearance, so it was a shock to see him in a seemingly vulnerable state. His eye bags seem bulging and darkened, a sign of a sleepless night. Unsure of what to think, I let go of my displeasure and chip away at my pancake and rice balls. After satisfying our hunger, Lucas and I bid Sicheng a goodbye and head back to our apartment complex. The walk is painfully awkward.
▶ Ambience
This feeling is nice. To have Lucas back as we go through our nightly routine of washing our faces and brushing our teeth in a tiny community bathroom. Our mannerisms seem slightly less stiff, and though minimal, it takes a huge weight off my shoulders. He’s back and I feel secure again. But he doesn’t bring up anything about earlier. I’m about to comment on his long-sleeved shirt as he’s the biggest heat anti in the world, refusing to wear anything that isn’t a muscle tee. But the rough emotions rattled us both, so I drop it from my list of questions to ask. We get ready for bed in silence, only starting to discuss things when we finish up and plop on the floor of my apartment. I tried to figure out if I was uncomfortable from the cold floor or for the conversation that might unfold. Since Lucas has been excruciatingly quiet, I take the initiative, “I sent so many messages and calls today. Do you know how worried I was?” Disappointment heavily coat my concerns. “This isn’t like you, I was seriously going to lose my mind. Please… can you tell me what’s going on?”
It pains me to see him looking like he’s kicked down again from having an already bad day, but I needed answers. He’s the person I trust the most in the life we have now. His chest inflated and quickly deflated. “I’m about to show you something. It might freak you out.” He tugs at the ribbed cuff of his left sleeve. A tattoo? Perhaps a little smiley face or some unconventional design placed oddly on his arm that he wanted to cover since we work at a clinic? Though tattoos are normalized on staff... Or an injury? Whatever it is, I just want to know whatever he’s hiding. “Promise me you won’t make a big commotion, I will explain.”
Without much thinking, I grow irritated at him for dragging this out, so I reach for the end of his shirt and pull it up quickly, unveiling the truth. My body and mind go rigid at the sight, unable to process whatever this… contraption was. “Lucas… what the hell is this,” I ask, alarmed, taking in the faintly glowing circuits and tiny sparks of blue electricity lighting up and down tubes that poke in and out of the machinery. From his shoulder down to his fingers, metals and screws and wires replace his flesh. After a long minute of examination and curiosity, I turn my attention back to Lucas’s face which expressed great worry, fear, and uncertainty. “Is this the reason you were gone today?” He gently shook my hand off and swiftly covered his arm with his shirt again. With a dejected look, he takes his eyes off mine and pins them on the dusty floorboards. His arm is no longer human.
“Dr. Lee from the clinic.”
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vulpinemama-wilde · 3 years
Note
// 01, 02, 11 + 12! (The development meme for Syl!) ^_^
(I answered these on mobile so plz forgive any typos)!
1. A memory from their childhood
Sylvia grew up in the countryside before moving to Zootopia. She had a fondness for music as a kit, but her fanily had trouble finding a mammal who was willing to spend time teaching a fox how to play an instrument.
It just so happened that one of their neighbors was a field mouse, and Sylvia also loved playing in the dirt!
So it came about that she would help Mrs. Mousington with the upkeep of her little garden (Syl's tiny pause were perfect for that), and in exchange Mrs. Mousington would stop by their home on the weekend to give Syl music lessons.
Mrs. Mousington was one of the few animals who was kind to Sylvia and her family, and she played a big role in Sylvia's life. She'll always be thankful to the little mouse for it, and she came to see her as family as well.
2. A memory from their teenage years.
Sylvia is the middle child of three. She remembers that in her teenage years, her older brother more or less started getting into trouble and would often come to her for help to bail him out or cover for him.
And for a while she did when she could....but that only lasted so long.
She remembers hearing loud arguments between her brother and her parents as she tried to shield those fights away from the eye and ears of her younger brother...eventually the older brother broke away from the fam and went off on his own.
He didn't keep in touch much, but Sylvia did get a few birthday cards now and then from him...of everyone in the fam, he was closest to her.
(While her older brother pretty much cut ties like Nick did, unlike Nick who actually tried to make a way from himself by hustling, Sylvia's older brother was pretty much a lazy moocher. Sylvia swore she'd find herself someone with ambition so the same pitfalls wouldn't befall her future family....little did she know....)
11. A childhood friend.
Sylvia didn't have a lot of childhood friends. When she was a kit, she was good friends with a bunny and, as she got older, with one other fox. She and the bunny played together all the time and were besties until they got to junior high, when they conformed to societal pressure and cliques started forming. The bunny wasn't mean to her...they just...grew apart--and hung out outside of school less and less. Her childhood friend in school was another female fox, and they bonded over being a couple of the only foxes who were trying to be proactive and make a name for themselves. The fox was her best friend at school until they graduated and went their separate ways.
All of them were good kids....they just eventually grew apart.
As an aside, Sylvia was also friends with a badger whom she didn't know had a crush on her. He stayed close during her kit-friendship days with the bunny, and her adolescent-friendship days with the other fox...but she just never knew and always saw him as an acquaintance. (Maybe he'll reappear)?
I'm thinking that later, he actually does end up being good friends with John and helps the two get to know each other better? I might flesh that out more later.
12. Parents.
Her parents weren't mean, just very conventional.
Rightfully, they wanted to instill the best in their kids so they wouldn't live up to the low-brow expectations most people had of foxes.
Her mother tried hard to teach Syl all the means of being a proper lady and etiquette, and her dad instilled the importance of hard work.
They weren't a stickler for "gender norms" in the home, and were a bit more lax behind closed doors, but were big on teaching their kids the proper ways to behave and get by in society.
So skills like being musically talented, knowing cross stitching and how to sew, being artistic, money savvy...these were things they valued highly for their children.
Her father was more serious and strict than her mother, but it was a very loving home. Things just were rough financially.....especially when their oldest decided to practically rebel on his own....that was a bit of a blow to the fam too.
-----
MUN: Sorry for the delay! I had to think on this a while! This is the 3rd blog I've made for Syl and haven't thought of her backstory in quite a bit.....some things are the same (her older brother) others are new (younger brother & childhood friends), still others are ideas I had established but never fully explored (Mrs. Mousington and the unrequited Badger crush)...
So yeah!
Hopefully I'll get to explore these more and interest will pick up with Zootopia+ coming in a couple of years!
I might even kinda have an update to the backstory for her and John so...Yeah!
But @vulpespxp, thanks for the ask!
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lostbutterflyutau · 3 years
Text
Always a Bridesmaid
Note: Part of the Mirror World AU’s “True Love” timeline, which started with THIS fic. I know my family fluff is the attention-grabber, but I was in the mood to write some (slight) angst with family thrown in.
And please, don’t forget to comment if you want to see more content from me!
Part of the For My Broken Heart collection.
***
“And… there,” Elena said as she gave Carla’s teal sash one last tug, stepped back to make sure it was perfect. She then came forward again, teased as she set her hands on Carla’s shoulders, “Don’t you look pretty?”
Carla flicked her eyes from her bracelet up to her reflection. From her professionally done hair and coordinated makeup down to the perfectly tailored black dress with a flared skirt, she did, in fact, look pretty on the outside. But inside she was screaming. Though, she didn’t let Elena know that. She just put on her best smile and thanked her for the compliment and coming to help her get ready.
Elena returned the smile. “You know I don’t mind. Now, hurry and find your shoes, you’ve got two sets of formals to get through.”
“Right,” Carla replied with a nod, doing her best to keep smiling as she turned to do just that and Elena left the room without a word. The moment Carla heard the door close, the corners of her mouth turned down. She grabbed the shoebox from the bed, stared at the heels inside. This was her third pair this year. Her third satin dress. Her third time watching someone else get their happy ever after.
She sighed as she sat, set the box back down. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy for her father or any of her friends, she was. They deserved to be happy and find their forever.
First, it had been Elena and Mateo. They got married in a beautiful, albeit extravagant, ceremony that, despite its size, still managed to feel intimate. Then, there was Gabe and Naomi and the ceremony she forced herself to smile through but, once all the formal portraits and shots were done, she found an excuse to bail out. As pathetic as it was, there was still that tiny part of her that never healed from that rejection or the lesson she learned from it. Now, it was her father and Rafa’s turn. It was a wedding she would have never expected, but it was happening and she was thrilled for them both being able to find love after so long. And, next to all of that, she had two close friends planning weddings too.
The previous weekend, she’d gone to the Mirror World for her dress fitting for Anna’s wedding, which was just a few months away and had then seen the various designs that Rapunzel was busy dreaming up for her own wedding. By the time those two were wed by the middle of next year, she’d have five dresses under her belt, none of which were wedding gowns. It was like her whole life the past two years was surrounded by couples and weddings. Dress fittings, cake tastings, menu planning sessions… she’d sat through at least one of everything and did her best to be happy. After all, her insecurities weren’t their problem. But she could never quite reconcile herself.
Her heart was split into two parts. The first one still held onto those old dreams she had about finding her own love story and kept nagging at her to try, try again. The other one, the one that dominated, had accepted that her dreams were just that, dreams. And dreams were meant for sleeping, not reality.
She sighed a second time as she glanced up at the clock and carefully pulled on her shoes. She still had some time before she was meant to meet up in the garden with Rafa and her bridesmaids. It was a little weird taking the position that would normally be the “Best Man” but Victor insisted that she be at his side. Because of that, she’d dipped out of the bridal suite that morning and chose to get ready alone. Not only did she not feel like she belonged, but she quickly became numb to all of the hustle and bustle and happiness and, once she realised she was feeling that way, decided that it would be best to leave everyone be and not risk bringing them down with her own issues.
“Okay, Carla,” She told herself, walked up to the mirror. “This one is easy. It’s Papa and you’re happy that he’s happy.” She took in a breath, put the smile back on her face. It was true. This would be much easier than Gabe and Naomi’s wedding. It was her father. Not the person she used to feel so much for. Of course, nothing was his fault. He never knew how she felt. Besides, matters of the heart weren’t things to be toyed with, not when they were that serious. But, knowing that didn’t make the pain of that lesson go away even after five years.
After one last look at herself, she decided that she was ready enough and headed out, stopping along the way to step out on one of the many balconies, this one overlooking the section of the garden where everything was set up. She leaned over the rail, looked down at where some of the palace staff were doing their final checks. It all turned out beautiful with everyone helping in their own way. They had decided on something small and private and relied on the help of family and friends to bring it all together, wanting everyone to feel included, even if their parts were small. It brought everyone together, and they were all proud of the work they had done for this well-deserved happily ever after.
Despite her attempts to push the thought away all day, Carla couldn’t help wondering when it would be her turn. She then frowned at the idea, shook her head slowly to shake the thought off. It wasn’t a “when” with her, it was an “if.” “If” leaning towards “never” with the way her love life was going.
“There you are,” Victor said, his voice cutting through her thoughts.
“Oh, sorry. I got distracted,” Carla said as she stood straight, one hand still on the rail as she looked over it again. “It’s really come together, hasn’t it?”
Victor felt his eyebrow raise just slightly. While there was no denying his daughter’s acting skills – both from the way she grew up and the extra training she received as a theatre understudy – she’d always been terrible at lying to him. Her straight posture and smile indicated nothing but joy and love for the day and events to come, but there was something small and subtle in her eyes that told him everything wasn’t okay.
He sighed, stepped over and set a hand on her back, “What is it, Mija?”
“What do you mean?” She asked, blinking her eyes innocently and hoping that her father bought the act. She wanted to kick herself for letting anything but happiness to come through, because she was happy that he was getting a second chance at forever.
“I mean, what’s going on with you?”
Knowing she was caught; all Carla could think to do was cast her eyes off to the side. “Can we talk about this later? Maybe after you get back from your honeymoon?”
“And hope that I’ll forget to ask when I get back?”
“I just don’t want to ruin your day.”
He gave her a soft smile, hoped that it would help to reassure her as he brought both hands up to her shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do to ruin the day. Except not tell me the truth.”
Carla bit her lip, considered her options – not that she had many. Blowing him off clearly wasn’t a choice. He’d seen right through her smile and not saying anything would likely mess things up more than keeping quiet. Yet, she also didn’t feel like she could tell him the whole truth. Not when it was the exact opposite of what everyone else was feeling that day.
“Carla,” Victor pressed gently, rubbed her shoulders.
She sighed. The more time she wasted contemplating, the less time they would have to get the formal portraits and last-minute preparations done. Finally, she admitted, “It… Well – It’s not that I’m not happy for you, I am. But…”
“But?”
Carla could only sigh, her heart suddenly sinking in her chest. It was a such a simple question. One that actually had an equally simply answer. However, she couldn’t bring herself to say it, not even to her father. She sighed a second time, mustered up the strength to say something. To put it in a way that would be truthful but also vague.
“I mean it when I say I’m happy for you, but – ” She trailed off again, the words getting stuck in her throat. It felt like her tongue was tied in knots even as she continued, “But, I can’t help being sad at the fact that the same kind of happiness doesn’t seem meant for me.”
She paused another moment, explained further when she caught the curious confusion in her father’s gaze. “Look around, Papa! Everyone’s getting married like it’s as easy as picking wildflowers! The past few years my life has been filled with wedding plans and cake flavours and flowers and worrying about everyone else’s happiness!”
Victor’s face fell at those last words. He knew something had seemed off about Carla the past few weeks, but had he been so oblivious that he hadn’t noticed she was unhappy? He hated the idea. One of the major things he wanted in life was for his daughter to be happy and knowing that she might not be hurt him.
He asked, “Are you not happy?”
Carla startled. That was a question she hadn’t been expecting and one that she hadn’t thought much about if she was honest with herself. After a moment, she said, “Of course I am. How can I not be? I have a stable home and a family that’s growing, a decent job and plenty of friends to keep me company.”
It wasn’t a lie.  She supposed she was happy to some degree. Or, rather, there wasn’t much for her to complain about with how good her life had been going.
“But there’s still something missing, isn’t there?”
She hadn’t said it directly, but Victor could sense it in the way she described her life as full of weddings and other people’s happiness. He didn’t doubt that she was happy in many ways, but now that they were talking about it, he saw that the lack of a love life bothered her. As a child, she had been enamoured with his and Valeria’s love story and had spent hours planning and playing out weddings for her stuffed animals. When she got older, she turned to books and novels, probably dreaming as she read them of her own fairy-tale. But now, she seemed disillusioned.
When she didn’t answer, he tried again, this time with a different wording. “You still want your fairy-tale, don’t you?”
The second the words were out of his mouth, she felt like screaming and it took everything in her to not do just that. Of course, she still wanted her fairy-tale. She wanted to know what it was like to fall in love and have someone actually return your feelings. She wanted to be someone’s everything, to feel the same way that all of the heroines in her old novels did and experience the same utter bliss of happily ever after. But, as much as she wanted all of that deep down, she’d already learned her lesson. It was pathetic and she knew it, but after actually letting some of those feelings for someone in and allowing them build up so much a few years ago only to find out that he not only didn’t return them, but wanted someone else who she knew was a much better match and person in general, she decided that she couldn’t do it again.  
Finally, she admitted, “I’m over that. Those kinds of stories aren’t real. Not for girls like me.”
Again, she didn’t lie. She fully believed what she was saying. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in love as a concept. She knew it was real and had seen it play out time and time again for not only her friends, but her colleagues and even random people on the street whenever she ran errands. It seemed like everyone had someone except her.
Victor blinked, took a minute to process everything she said. “What do you mean girls like you?”
Carla sighed, returned to the railing. “I just mean that love and marriage aren’t for everyone and I happen to be one of the unlucky ones.”
Victor stepped over to her side. “You don’t know that. You’re still young, Carla. You have time.”
She resisted the urge to huff at him, instead channelled that energy into her hand as her fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt. Sure, twenty-three was young, but with everyone else around her either getting married or in long-term relationships with a proposal likely to follow, she felt so out of place. So… behind.
Sensing the tension, Victor returned his hand to her shoulder, decided to ignore the hand of hers that was fisted in her dress. “You know, I didn’t marry your mother until I was thirty and she was twenty-six, and now I’m here, old as I am, getting married again.”
Carla pursed her lips at those words, thought carefully about her response. While she was beyond happy for her father and wouldn’t deny that, if anyone deserved to find love, it was him, she also knew deep in her heard that it just wasn’t in her cards. There had only been one person she ever let herself feel that way for and whom she wanted so much to like her back, but he just didn’t. He never had and never would.
Of course, it was his right to pick someone else. Feelings couldn’t be forced. Even attempting to force it would be wrong and she knew that no matter how much she liked him, even now.
Unfortunately, that meant she was going to be stuck in an endless circle of bridesmaid dresses and making everyone else’s dreams come true, at least for the next few years. She didn’t see much beyond that. Didn’t really want to. She only hoped that, by the time this seemingly endless parade of weddings was over, she would be okay with herself and her circumstances. Maybe if she kept telling herself that being single really wasn’t that bad, she’d eventually come to terms with it. But, she knew she couldn’t tell her father any of that, not right now. It was too much to unpack and she didn’t want to argue. Instead, she put on a smile, decided that the best course of action was to agree in some sense, even if it meant lying to herself and him.
“I guess you’re right,” She settled on. “Life does take a lot of turns. Who knows? Maybe one day love will be in my cards.”
“I believe that,” Victor reassured, moving his hand down to gently rub her back. “You’re beautiful and strong and smart and so many other things. And one day, someone will see that.”
‘Whatever you say, Papa,’ Carla thought, resting the urge to huff again. He had to say that. He was her father. All fathers thought their daughters were the most beautiful. But it also wasn’t the first time she’d heard it. Elena had told her the same thing a few months back when she finally had to admit why she was faking her way through planning Gabe and Naomi’s wedding. And just like she did then, she simply smiled at the compliment.
It was easier than admitting how she never connected with any of her dates, no matter how well-intentioned they had been – Well, aside from the blind date that told her he’d been expecting someone prettier. She’d taken a break after that. Dating was exhausting and pointless, especially when she knew she wasn’t going to get anything long term out of it.
Victor sighed to himself silently. He knew she wasn’t convinced. Perhaps it was intuition, but having raised her, he could always see when she was putting on a façade. But he also wasn’t sure what else he could say. He hated that his little girl seemed so unhappy about this but had to concede that it was a problem he couldn’t fix. It would be up to her whether she ever wanted to let someone in. After a moment of silence, he suggested, “We should get going. I know they’re expecting you for portraits.”
“Huh?” Carla turned, his voice shaking her out of her thoughts. “Oh, right.”
He kept his hand on her back as they headed towards the doors, gave her a gentle push in the right direction when they crossed the doorframe. And, though the gaping crack in her heart did not close up – nor did she think it ever would – something about the familiar comfort her father’s touch had always represented sent the smallest spot of warmth through her even as they separated and she went on to meet the painter. The feeling was then further aided by the familiar faces that spared her quick, but genuine smiles as they bustled about and got into position, all of them conveying their happiness at seeing her.
Giving them a small smile of her own in return, Carla let out a tiny sigh. And, despite herself, this time, the effort to push away the thought that romance wasn’t for her seemed somehow less overwhelming than it had been before. At least for now.
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cold-ugly · 3 years
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🥀 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖉 & 𝖚𝖌𝖑𝖞 chapter 1
       Sleepless hours trickled past as I lay huddled under a fortress of blankets, waiting for the alarm to go off. I rubbed my stinging eyes, and sat up in bed, shivering in the freezing AC. I hastened to quiet my alarm before it woke the prison wardens - that's a special word for family. With all my will, I removed myself from the blanket fortress, and flipped on the light, blinking in stark contrast to the pitch darkness I found security in. I glanced at the mirror on my wall, disappointed but not surprised. As I stood up, haze clouded my vision, and static flooded my head.
       I fell back onto the bed in a rush of pins and needles. I sank onto my knees to the floor from my bed, to hastily retrieve my clothes scattered upon the floor. I squeezed into my sports bra, and began the lengthy process of layering tank tops with shirts with sweaters with hoodies, leggings with jeggings with sweatpants, socks with socks with socks - and more socks. I struggled to get my socked feet into my red sneakers. Into my pockets, I stuffed my phone and headphones, and a little box with my pipe, bud, and a lighter. I sipped on water as I peeked out the window, noticing that the sun had yet to rise, before I began the descent into madness. I turned off the light, closed my door without a sound, and tiptoed down the tiled hall to silently slip out the front door. I stashed my little pot box beneath an evergreen, then trudged up the hill towards the sidewalk.
       I gave a few shakes of each leg to loosen my muscles, as I plugged in the headphones and chose my playlist of songs with intense climaxes and heavy breakdowns. At the first note, my heart rate preemptively elevated. I sprang into a light jog, the piercingly cold November air practically slicing my cheeks. The sun was only a tease of dim light hidden behind the horizon. Being atop a tall hill, I gazed below onto the misty winter countryside, the barren trees floating by as I sprinted. The burning in my fingers and toes subsided into numbness, and each dry breath hitched in my sore chest. With each footstep I felt the reverberation of my jiggling thighs. As my stomach cramped, and I wanted to lay down in the frosted grass, I rested my hand onto my absent ribs, snuffed under layers of clothes and flesh. I ran harder. I didn't count laps, there was no end goal, no ribbon, no finish line, no winning this race. I'm finished when my knees buckle, until the next moonlit morning.
       Panting, nearly heaving, I trudged downhill, the melting frost soaking through my worn-down sneakers. Once safe behind the evergreen, sheltered from any prying eyes, I unpacked my little box. I squatted to use my thighs as a table (they're surely huge enough) to set down the pipe as I packed in the fluffy weed. After several failed attempts, I finally managed to light the bowl with my numb fingers. The first breath of warm smoke after I'd been gasping such freezing air burned my hoarse throat, and as it filled my lungs I relaxed. With my exhale, I released a gorgeous cloud that dissolved into the gradually lightening sky.
       I snuck back into the living room, the AC nearly as cold as outside. As my door clicked shut, the first stirrings of morning life emerged. Through our shared wall, my sister's alarm blared incessantly. I shed my layers, tossing them back to the floor where I found them, slipped on my black fuzzy robe, and tied my unwashed hair into a greasy bun. I stuffed my headphones and tiny bud box into the front pocket of my leather backpack, then headed toward the bathroom. On my way, I heard my mom's door creak open, and I hurriedly slipped away behind the safety of a locked door. I ran the water hot, tossed the robe onto the counter, and stepped into the delightful ecstacy of warmth. As I looked to the water spiralling down the drain, I noticed the strawberry-red color of my fingertips and toes thawing. I shivered under the water for who knows how long, until rapid knocks interrupted my peace. I shut off the water and bundled myself in a towel, grabbed my robe, and opened the door.
       "You took a shower, but you didn't wash your hair? That's disgusting." My sister remarked. "Save it, I never see you brush your teeth. Your teeth are gonna end up like your brain: full of holes." I shoved past her and hustled back to my room, sighing in annoyance. I dried off and quickly dressed in a huge grey sweater over a t-shirt, and black fleece-lined leggings. After taking down my hair, I tried to brush it but gave up, and tied it back in a high ponytail. I checked my phone to see no texts, set an alarm for fifteen minutes, and placed it on my desk. I opened my laptop, turned on some music, and went to Minecraft. After the fifteen minutes was up, I zipped up my boots and threw my backpack over my shoulder. I headed to the kitchen to retrieve my half-gallon of lemon water from the fridge. My mom was standing at the counter adding splenda to her black coffee. "Good morning," she croaked. "Good morning," I echoed politely as possible, grabbing my water and setting it on the counter next to my sister's sequined lunchbox. On cue, she appeared, and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet next to me. As she poured her lucky charms, mom commented, "Why don't you eat the cheerios? You know that shit is loaded with sugar. Y'know it can cause cancer-"
"Mom, c'mon," my sister interjected, "it's already in the bowl." I rolled my eyes and headed toward the door. My mom called after me, "So what, no breakfast?"
"I eat at school, you keep forgetting."
"They serve you crap there. You're letting them kill you."
"Them and everyone else," I grabbed my coat from its hook on the wall, and left.
       Secure again behind the evergreen, I squatted to pack my second bowl, and puffed it as I scrolled mindlessly on my phone. My instagram and school email each had several notifications that I continued to diligently neglect. To my right, someone's footsteps crunched in the grass. I peeked through the leaves, relieved to see my sister's pink coat. She ducked behind the tree with me, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket.
       "Now that is disgusting," I commented as she lit one of her cancer-sticks. She dismissively shrugged her shoulders. After all of mom's lectures that everything is a carcinogen, it's no wonder my sister is so desensitized. We smoked in silence until we heard the distant screech of the bus braking at the top of the hill. I stashed my box underneath the tree in a shallow hole, and covered it with leaves. We sprinted to the bus stop, joining the rest of the high schoolers in the neighborhood as they filed into the musty vehicle. I took an empty seat near the middle and put my backpack next to me, while my sister went to sit with her friend group at the very back. I plugged in my headphones, adjusted my coat, and took my notebook from my backpack to finish the homework I should’ve done a week ago.
       I dropped off my backpack in front of my first class on my way to the breakfast line. As I queued with the other students, I scrolled through the fashion inspiration pictures saved in my phone, in a special folder. My heart shattered at each flawless photo of people my age flaunting the clothes I wished I could wear. While moving slowly through the line, I grabbed a gatorade zero and an apple juice. Walking back to my first class, I passed several people I’d grown up with since elementary school, and as they talked amongst themselves like any happy normal teen, I seemed to phase right through them. I took my assigned seat near the front, and placed my notebook on the desk to hurriedly finish the homework.
       Students rushed through the door as the bell rang. Whoever sits in front of me appeared to be absent, so I propped my feet up in the seat. I was still scribbling the last few answers onto my paper as the national anthem blasted over the intercom. My peers shot nasty looks at me as I remained seated while they stood. After all the sheep had finished baa-ing the pledge of allegiance, the teacher called for homework to be passed to the front. Amidst a symphony of zipping backpacks and rustling papers, two girls in the row next to me obnoxiously squabbled over a phone. “Let me see it!” one wailed. I sipped my apple juice while I observed the girls grappling to rip the phone out of the other’s hand. As they wrestled for the phone, it flew, like a projectile, and knocked the bottle out of my hand. I gasped in shock as the juice splashed all over me.
“What’s going on?” the teacher demanded. I sped over to her and presented my drenched clothes. “Can I please go change? I spilled my drink. I’m sorry,” I replied. “Oh, okay, go ahead. I’ll call the janitor.” I grabbed my backpack, and rushed out of the room.
       I took a detour to my locker and grabbed my gym bag on the way to the bathroom. Once locked in the very back stall, I dropped my coat to the floor and pulled my sweater over my head. Relieved that my undershirt was surprisingly dry, I dug in my gym bag for a new long-sleeve. I pulled out the sneakers, shorts, and socks, emptied the bag, and my heart sank. The long-sleeve wasn’t there. Why the fuck isn’t my shirt in here? I sighed and held my head in my hands. What the fuck am I going to do? I shoved the wet clothes into my gym bag, put my sneakers on them, and stuffed in the clean clothes on top. Sitting on the bathroom floor, I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my arm on them. Damn it. Now I remember that I took my gym shirt home yesterday because I wanted to switch it with the red one, but I forgot to bring the red one today. Typical.
        On my way down the hall, I noticed the custodian leaving my classroom. “Sir,” I called after him, “I’m so sorry you had to clean up my mess. Must have been a sticky situation." He chuckled, “It’s no issue, I’ve seen worse.” I smiled, and told him to have a good day. As I returned to my seat, the teacher called my name. “This is the assignment, hon, it’s just questions one through twenty on page 103 of your textbook. If you do twenty through thirty, you'll get bonus points,” she handed me the paper. As I outstretched my hand to take it, I followed her gaze to my lacerated forearm. I snatched the paper and hustled back to my seat, where I took out the textbook from my backpack and flipped through the pages. God, she saw my arm. She's going to tell on me, fuck, they're gonna call my mom again. How can I get out of this? What page did she say? 130? 113? I consulted the board, and saw it was blank. With no shoulder in front of me to peek over, I strained to glance at the neighboring row, and frantically combed through my book to find a page that looked similar to theirs. Someone got up and turned in their assignment before I even found the correct page.
       Sitting in my second class, I skimmed over my notes for the test while I waited for the bell to ring. My left palm remained flat on the cold desk, sheltering my forearm. Throughout the class, I tried to be so invisible as to draw no attention to myself. I labored on each answer of the test, in an effort to bring up my grade, and consequently quiet my mom’s bickering. As I glanced around the room, I noticed other students finishing up while I lagged behind.
Knock knock.
My heart skipped a beat.
“Is Ren here?” asked a student assistant from the guidance counsellor’s office.
My teacher replied, “We’re in the middle of a test, can this wait?”
“Sorry, it’s urgent.”
“Ren, could you come here please?”
     I brought my test with me, and gave it to the teacher, who notified me that I’ll need to finish it during lunch. I nearly held my breath as I approached the door. The assistant told me to go with him. I trailed him silently down the halls, and took a seat in the office. “Your counsellor will call you back in a minute,” he reported. With my arm in my lap, I glimpsed around the walls at all the motivational posters with meaningless quotes, heart pounding in my chest. I can’t fucking believe I let this happen. As I looked around, I noticed a girl sitting in the chair in front of me, who was entranced by the pastel blue, stickered, and bedazzled DSI in her hands. Her hair was half black and half lavender, divided into two long braids, and a pink sweater draped elegantly over her freckled shoulders. In her lap perched a white purse shaped like a cat. “I like your purse,” I blurted, “I love cats.”
Her chestnut-brown eyes drifted up to meet mine. “Thank you,” her voice was silky and small. “They’re my favorite. I have three, how many do you have?”
“I actually can’t have cats right now, my mom is allergic,” I admitted.
“That’s awful,” she pouted, “you should see mine.”  She took out her yellow phone and showed me her lockscreen, a calico cat. “This is Muffin! She’s so old! And so chunky.”
“She’s adorable,” I smiled, and noticed I’d been biting my nails.
“So are you here for the group?” she inquired. I gave her a puzzled look.
“Uh, which group?” I asked, confused. Like, a high school version of narcotics anonymous?
“Y’know, the counsellors made a girls group,” she replied, “for our mental health.”
Oh.
       “That sounds cool,” I sighed. It’s already uncomfortable enough that I have to use the women’s restroom. “So you should join!” she squealed. I looked to the floor, and noticed her sparkly sneaker was untied.  “Your shoe is untied.” She raised her leg to inspect the shoe, and frowned. “I don’t know how to tie them,” she whined. I raised an eyebrow, and almost held my tongue, but offered, “I could do it for you.” She smiled and extended her foot to me. I knelt, and tied the laces in a double knot, then double-knotted the other shoe. “Thank you! You’re so nice. So if you aren’t here for the group, then what are ya here for?”
        Silent, I looked at her, reaching for a possible explanation that wouldn’t freak her out. Her face softened, and she gestured to my arm. She saw. She hates me now. “Is it because of the cuts?” I nodded, my face burning red in shame. “It’s okay,” she reached out and patted my knee. “It’s just an inconvenience, right? Just an uncomfortable conversation, and then it’s over.”
       “They’re gonna call my mom,” I confessed, “I don’t wanna get into it with her. I just got my door back a couple weeks ago. I seriously don’t want to do this again.” She stared at me silently, then her eyes suddenly lit up. She bent down to rummage in her cherry-print backpack, then tossed into my lap a light yellow jacket. “Maybe they won’t make you roll up the sleeves,” she chirped hopefully. “Thank you,” I slipped on the soft jacket and cringed at how tight the sleeves felt around my arms, realizing I probably can’t even zip it up over my stomach. She beamed, and a door clicked open. “We’re ready for you,” a counsellor informed the girl. She cheerfully stood up, waved bye to me, and disappeared into the room. Her jacket smelled clean and sweet, the way fresh snow looks like it should taste.
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lilac-city-skylines · 4 years
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Can you write a JenxKira wedding scene?
Here you go! I wrote a lot more than I originally intended, but I hope that it’s good enough! Please enjoy! 
“Doza Amina!” Ydra waved happily as she barged into Jen’s room, tiny fists full of fabric and flowers. She spoke quickly in podling, busying about the room: throwing clothes onto his bed, straightening flowers, and generally becoming a hurricane. 
“Ydra! !t’s nice to see you.” Jen quickly pulled the curtains over his chest. He was standing near the window, watching as the wedding preparations were made. The few surviving gelfling and podlings were hustling around outside, preparing the wedding altar and prettying up the venue. Kira had wanted their wedding to be outside to badly and the podlings were bound and determined to make it the most beautiful wedding that history had seen. Which was odd, considering Jen didn’t know if podlings had a wedding ceremony. He’d spent countless hours pouring over the scrolls in the massive library in the castle, carefully recording anything and everything about weddings he could manage to find. So many of the manuscripts were damaged when the castle fell apart, he had to be careful when pulling them out of the rubble. 
Ydra dismissively waved at him and gestured to the clothes she’d laid on his bed. He’d begged and pleaded to not have anything new made, his clothes were fine after all, but it seemed like nothing would stop the herculean force of a podling mother in law with a sewing kit. He’d heard the other gelfling had helped as well. 
It was hard to determine exactly which clan the clothes would belong to. Since the war, the few surviving gelfling had dissolved the clan divisions, surviving with whoever they could. Jen had wanted to ask for some time about how they survived, but whenever he tried to discuss it they seemed too pained to continue. Jen had made it a personal vendetta not to push the issue any farther. He saw smooth wooden beads threaded into the shirt, embroidered designs of different animals, a feather was carefully sewn into one shoulder. It was the most intricate thing he’d ever seen. When he tentatively reached out to stroke the soft fabric, he was almost lost at how soft and comfortable the fabric felt. It was a far cry from the still desert cloth the urRu had made clothes from. 
“Ydra,” He trailed off, trying to find proper words of appreciation. The handcraft alone must have taken the podling days, given the size difference of their clothes. The other gelfling had most likely assisted as well, but he knew that those tiny stitches in the embroidery were a podling specialty, he’d studied Kira’s dresses enough to know that. “Thank you.” 
The podling woman swatted at his knee a bit until Jen knelt down. She carefully wrapped her tiny arms around Jen’s neck. “Jen is son now.” He could feel his throat closing and tears welling in his eyes. He gently returned her hug. “Never had mother make shirt? Ydra mother now. Ydra makes good clothes for son.” 
“Thank you, Ydra.” Jen held back the oncoming wave of emotion enough for Ydra to pull away and gesture impatiently at the shirt. “Right, sorry.” 
“You take care Kira! I fight if you don’t!” She shook a finger at him before giving him a signature smile and running out of the room, probably to go assist Kira. 
Kira was in her own room, sitting at a vanity, combing through her hair and worriedly smoothing out the skirt of her dress. The other gelfling had insisted on helping with the garment, but she knew her mother’s handiwork when she saw it. The pale fabric with tiny stitches, the care that only Ydra would put into a garment. It was different than the clothes the podlings had made for her. The fabric was far lighter, it barely felt like it was there at all, was cut differently than anything she’d worn before. Instead of slits to accommodate her wings, her full back was exposed, and the staps were so thin that her shoulders were visible. This fact didn’t bother her, it actually felt nice to wear something different for a change. 
There was a small knock on the door before it opened. It was Ydra, carefully cradling a flower crown in her hands. 
“Mother!” Kira stood quickly and moved to her mother, kneeling to match her height. “What is this.” 
“This gelfling crown.” Ydra held out the circlet of flowers. “Other gelfling make, but Ydra make pretty.” She pointed at the soft blue and white flowers carefully woven into the twigs. 
“Thank you so much!” Kira leaned her head down enough for Ydra to crown her adoptive daughter. “Oh, Mother it’s so beautiful!” She gently touched one of the petals and giggled. 
“Dobah, dobah,” Ydra patted Kira’s hand and pushed her shoulder to gesture her back up. “It almost time.” Kira nodded and sat on the bed. “You worry? He not good man?” 
“No, he’s a wonderful man,” Kira smiled and rested her head in her palms. “I just didn’t think I’d ever get this far.” 
“There always Holchip.” Ydra shrugged. “I’ll take Jen if you no want him.” 
Kira exploded into laughter. “I don’t think I’ll be marrying Holchip anytime soon!” 
Ydra clambered up onto the bed with her daughter and they sat together, telling little jokes and calming Kira’s nerves. She was obviously sure of her decision, she loved Jen and wanted to spend her life with him, but there’s always nerves that come with dedicating your entire life to someone. So, they swapped stories and shifted from the gelfling language to the podling one, becoming faster and louder as they did.
It reminded Ydra of when Kira was just growing up. When Kira would ask her for bedtime stories or how she would sing Kira’s nightmares away. She felt a pang of loss. Podlings never left their groups, they always stuck together, even once they were married to another family. But Kira wasn’t a podling. She had found someone of her own kind that would love her and take care of her, but that didn’t stop Ydra from wishing Kira could stay a little childling just a little longer. She’d often wondered if she could ask Jen and Kira to stay in the podling village, but knew it wouldn’t happen. They were leaders now, the king and queen of a new age, they had to stay at the castle and cultivate the new world that the UrSkeks left behind. Kira had tried to explain the UrSkeks to Ydra many times, but it never stuck well.
Of course, the time came when a gelfling knocked on the door and peeked his head in. It wasn’t Jen, but another dark-haired boy named Beneet. He had been among the first to return to the castle once the UrSkeks had disappeared and, knowing how to read almost as well as Jen, became a fast and close friend. Beneet had been responsible for unearthing some of the more delicate scrolls from the rubble of the library, and had helped Jen with some of the older and almost lost words like “Dousan” and “Ha’rar.” He had tied his hair back with a simple leather strap and wore what Kira assumed to be formal clothes. “Excuse me, Maudra?” The gelfling had insisted on calling Kira that since they’d met. “It’s time.” 
Ydra took Kira’s hand and patted it before hopping off the bed and running out of the room to take her place. The podlings had built special seats for themselves close to the alter, close enough for the podling tradition of chucking bread and flowers on the newlywed couple. Ydra had informed neither Kira nor Jen that this tradition was being respected, whether they were ready or not. 
Once Ydra had left, Kira flexed her wings and left the bed. She took a deep breath before following Beneet through the castle. It was still and winding and labyrinthine place, Jen had a tendency to get lost and need Kira to find him, and even Kira avoided certain places. SkekTech’s laboratory was still intact, though free of all cages and his devices destroyed, Kira couldn’t bear to bring herself there to help Jen decide what is worth keeping and what needed to be done away with. From what she heard, Jen had tasked himself with the dismantling and destruction of the chair that she’d once been strapped into. Beneet was careful to avoid any halls that he knew Kira didn’t like, he wanted her to be happy on her wedding day, after all. 
Finally, they made their way to the main gates of the castle, propped open wide. All the gelfling and podlings had gathered sprigs of flowers and found rolls of cloth to decorate the reception hall with. Kira had to admit, it was the most beautiful she’d ever seen the place. The gelfling were all milling about, making sure that everything was perfect. Once they caught sight of her, the air seemed to still. They quickly made a small path for her to follow, all the way to the outside wedding alter she’d asked for. It wasn’t anything special, nothing polished or primed, just a small table with two cups of water and a length of ribbon. 
As the passed the waiting gelfling, they gently threw flowers at her feet. She wished that she should pick them up, but Beneet shook his head. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before joining the rest of the small crowd. 
Slightly embarrassed but more than a little excited, she nearly jogged to the altar. The only thing that stopped her was Jen, waiting for her. His jaw was practically on the floor. Once she locked eyes with him, he was all she needed to see. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that the castle was there or that a whole slew of gelfling expected them to lead, it was just Kira and Jen. She wanted the moment to stay in time forever; the way he looked in the formal attire, slack-jawed and eyes full of love. 
Jen took her hands quickly, once she made her way to him. “You-you look,” He trailed off, shaking his head and squeezing her hands. Kira reached up to her flower crown and felt for a loose flower. Taking it, she carefully tucked it into one of Jen’s rather complicated looking braids. 
“There,” she whispered. “Now it’s perfect.” 
“Perfect?” Jen looked at the alter. “Then I’m glad. I want it to last forever.” 
“It will,” Kira giggled and touched the tips of his fingers to her own. “We can see it together, whenever we want.” 
One of the eldest gelfling, an old woman with a rotting walking cane hobbled between the couple. “Enough of that! Enough of that! Plenty of time for you to do that later. Now,” the crone smacked her lips and rolled her shoulders. “We’re here for a very important ceremony.” And she droned on. Kira had listened to the ritualistic preamble so many times when planning her wedding out. She thought it was only appropriate that the oldest surviving gelfling among them would conduct the ceremony, given that Mother Aurgrah had declined on account of not wanting to walk back to the castle again. Kira wanted to listen in, she really did, but looking at Jen was far more interesting. 
He’d come such a long way from the confused and lost gelfling she’d found stuck in the mud. He was sure of himself, much more courageous, and fit to be a king. He’d insisted that the position should go to someone else, but Kira knew in her heart that he was perfect. Sympathetic and compassionate, he was so intelligent, and he loved learning from the others. Kira felt herself grinning harder and harder the more she looked into his eyes. 
“Now! The cups!” The old gelfling carefully handed Jen and Kira the water-filled cups. Jen started to hyper-focus on the glass. He didn’t want to spill it and the excitement was making his hands shake. He took a deep breath and held it as steady as he could, trying to ignore the droplets that were making their way out of the glass and onto his hands. Kira wished she could reassure him, but she had to focus on keeping her own cup steady. “Well, what’re you kids waiting for? The next war? Drink!” And they did. 
Kira was thirsty, wedding nerves had prevented her from keeping anything down all day. So when the chance arose to have something in her system, she finished the whole cup of water in one go. Jen looked so proud of her. 
Then, they gave their cups back to the old woman, who replaced them with the ribbon. They each held an opposite side. “Now, your spirits are forever bonded. Two sides brought together in love.” The women joined Jen and Kira’s hands and, taking their ribbon, tied them together. “You are tied to each other. Thra has guided you together and will keep you in this way. You are one now, you are forever belonging to each other.” 
The rest of their day was filled with laughter and dancing, Jen and Kira’s hands never releasing.
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cssns · 4 years
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It’s that time again, y’all!!! Time for the December roundup!!!
I hope you had a wonderful holiday season and that the hope and promise of the new year stays with you all year long! 
Even amid the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, we had some fantastic updates last month, including 2 updates for fics from CSSNS 2018 and one of last summer’s fics moving to the COMPLETED column!! Be sure to give our authors and artists all the love for all their hard work!!! And now, without further ado, here we GO!!!
Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.
@courtorderedcake​ opened us up in December with an update to her fic, Hallow.
"The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.
Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King's will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time."
This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.
Ch12 can be found here. Rated E.
@kymbersmith-90​ updated her fic from CSSNS 2018, Slayer, with artwork by @hollyethecurious​.
Into every generation a slayer is born: one girl in all the world, a chosen one. She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness; to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their number. She is the Slayer.
Ch19 can be found here. Rated E.
@seriouslyhooked​ updated her fic from CSSNS 2018, Lost Souls and Reveries, with artwork by @shipsxahoy​.
Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to the future he was destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set both of them free, or will past demons win out in the end? (Answer: love always wins – I am writing this so despite some tiny pockets of angst it’s basically a fluff-filled insta-love fest).
Ch22 is here. Rated M.
@teamhook​ updated and COMPLETED her fic Rionnag Dorcha Gorm (Dark Blue Star), with artwork by @hollyethecurious​.
It is said that evil is not born but made. This is how an act of kindness is twisted into a story about revenge. Emma and Killian are childhood friends until a tragedy separates them will another reunite them.
Ch4 is here. Not rated.
And finally @jarienn972​ updated A Simple Spell, with artwork by @cocohook38​.
This story is my entry into the 2019 Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event and is my first venture into AU territory. Storybrooke remains our setting but I've switched up some of the characters and familial relations to better suit this tale of prodigal witch Emma who returns to her birthplace to learn lots of secrets about herself and cast a spell that could change everything.
Ch12 is here. Rated T.
Wow!!!!! What a fantastic lineup of updates we had last month!!! Be sure to express your appreciation to our authors and artists with flails and reblogs!!! I’ll be back in February with January’s roundup!!
In the meantime, be on the lookout for announcements on the blog for CSSNS20!!! The other mods and I are already hard at work getting all our ducks in a row for this years event!!! It is very likely that 2020 will be our last year, so be thinking about what you’d like to do to participate!! We need authors, artists, betas, and cheerleaders! Make sure that you are following the blog and enable notifications so you won’t miss anything!!! Until next time, y’all!!!
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