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seijurosempress · 3 years

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@shoichee I hope this meets your expectations✨ (Bc I refuse to tolerate any more bullying today. Also- Matchup under the cut)

First, I just want to say- I’m sorry. (but not really). I know our love for Hayama runs deep but the moment you choose violence with him, that’s it for you. RIP. It was nice knowing you 😔 But, remember when we first spoke and I asked you if you shipped yourself with Imayoshi and you refused to answer my question? Well- [Insert ‘Surprise shawty’ tik tok audio]

Best Match: Imayoshi Shoichi

Your subconscious knew what it was doing when you picked out your URL. The moment you said you related to Dazai and then proceeded to talk about socioeconomic issues revolving around globalization while we simultaneously talked about dumb stuff I knew there were only a few guys that could handle your energy and Imayoshi hands down tops that list

Even though Hanamiya out of all people might say Imayoshi doesn’t have the best personality, I actually think you two can balance each other out and understand each other in a way other people may not be able to

Honestly, right off the bat, y’all will probably bond over some form of teasing. Whether it’s making some remark aimed directly at the other, or one of you takes a jab at someone else and the other happens to overhear, it will be the start of a beautiful relationship

Gemini and Leo’s have really good chemistry so it’s no surprise you’ll manage to get along, regardless of your- argumentative natures.

You two are like the two sides of the same coin. While he presents himself as a kind and easy going person, speaking politely to others- until he inevitable shows them his real personality- you, on the other hand, can come off a little cold and critical, scaring people off when you first meet them even though you’re genuinely kind and easy going once you start to talk to them

If you guys meet purely by chance, maybe you’re in the same class, you’re introduced because of a mutual friend, or because one of you overheard the other, the moment you hear how the other carries themselves in a conversation will automatically peek your interest.

Have you ever seen that meme where they’re like “oh you wanna kiss me so bad”? yea, that’s you two. I can see you getting into the most amusing squabble, just trying to throw the other one off, Imayoshi smirking if and when one of his comments goes right over your head

You’re both pretty smart (I spent a solid hour trying to double check this and still failed but I’m like 80% sure his IQ is pretty up there) so I can see you two meeting because of that too

Scenario:

Imayoshi is just minding his business, checking the updated class rankings posted in the hall across your classroom. Why? He doesn’t know, if he’s being honest. It’s not like anyone could ever surpass him, he’s been at the top of his class each time since his firs- What’s this? He got bumped down? Who the hell are you? Wait no, he knows who you are. He’s heard your name before countless times, mostly followed by your voice as it traveled throughout the hallways, your laugh bubbling out of your small frame soon after in reply to whichever friend had just made a funny remark. Funny. You didn’t seem all that smart at first glance, could he have actually... made a mistake? His gaze flickers to the other side of the hall where he immediately found you, eyes wide and a small smile adorning your features as you listened to your classmate speak. A low hum escapes him as he analyzes your appearance once more. He notices the way your makeup highlighted your already attractive features, the small accessories added to your uniform making you look put together and stylish. Maybe he had underestimated you, he though as he saw you take your turn to speak, your answer leaving your classmate open mouthed with a baffled expression. He felt the slight tug on his lips, the beginning of a small smirk forming on his face as you smiled widely at the response you had gotten. However, the amusement only lasted a split second, his features falling in disbelief when you turned around, tripping over your own feet and falling face first into the open classroom door. “What are you staring at?” Someone, probably Sato, asks as he strolls up beside him. “Nothing” he sighs, adjusting his glasses on his face. Is it really nothing though? a small voice inside him asks just as a series of curse words and noises fall from your lips, eliciting his own to quirk up into an amused, lopsided smile. Even if it is “nothing” for now, don’t be surprised when both of you “coincidentally” find yourselves bumping into each other more often from now on as he tries to figure you out.

I can see him realizing he has feelings for you while you two are hanging out. Maybe you two will be studying after you asked him to tutor you in math since it’s his best subject, or well, attempting to study at least as you’re nearing half an hour of your 5 minute snack break. He’ll probably be doodling in his notebook while you scroll through Instagram, and it’s not until he looks up to see you so focused on whatever was on the other side of the screen, your fingers quickly tapping away as a smile pulled at your lips that he asks what you’re doing. Without a second thought, you absentmindedly tell him about whatever argument you’re getting into in the comments section under a random photo you came across before you’re back to focusing on the matter at hand.

His whole trademark is that he’s good at analyzing people, and as a Gemini, he is not an exception to his own skills. He’ll suddenly come to the realization that, while he enjoys pushing people’s buttons, he enjoys the thought of you two being a team even more. While you can be loud and social, making and laughing at jokes, you also know when to get serious and get stuff done, something that that he would appreciate considering he likes respectful and considerate girls.

The problem now is- he may be aware of his feelings...but are you?

He’ll probably try out multiple ways to hint at his feelings towards you but they’ll just go right over your head. In your mind, you can’t see anyone having any romantic feelings towards you and sure he may be acting a little weird, but you’d probably just shrug it off as it being all in your imagination.

Meanwhile the whole time Imayoshi is just standing there like- Is she serious? No one can be this oblivious???? but yet ✨here you are✨

Now it’s his turn to be frustrated by your conversations because you’re just not getting it? So he decides to try something more straight forward. Girls like pickup lines, right?

He could literally see the moment your brain stopped working. Your face flushed red as a nervous giggle bubbled out of you. All common sense left your body as you made finger guns at him, giving him a slight nod before turning around and walking quickly out the room

it would take you a few minutes to collect yourself, strolling back in the room 30 minutes later, leaning against the same spot you left him moments prior and giving him a pickup line of your own. *queue Imayoshi’s mischievous smirk* “Oh? Is that so?” (he’s such a little shit he’ll probably pretend like he didn’t say anything first to get back at you)

I can see this going back and forth for a while until he finally asks you out on a date, but this time he’ll make sure to do it in a way that will prevent you from escaping and leaving him alone and confused again

Your PDA is most likely kept to a minimum, partly because of your Venus in Virgo and partly because he doesn’t like spontaneity. Your outward relationship will consist of hand holding and pecks but that doesn’t mean your private life remains the same, just because you’re dating now doesn’t mean you’re suddenly immune to his habits or him to yours

You say you want to spend some quality time together? “How about a movie night?” he asks, his smile deceiving you long enough to trap you in his arms as a scary movie plays in his blacked out bedroom. “I don’t like scary movies” you whine, your body pressing into his and a pout pulling at your lips as he “innocently” chuckles, “Oh really? I must have forgotten”

You say you’re a bit cynical about relationships but I think it’s because your Neptune, Pluto and Lilith are ruled by air signs. This means you enjoy spontaneity and creativity in what you do and therefore always gravitate to doing things in which your outcome depends on yourself and not other people. Imayoshi is the kind of person that respects other people’s needs as we can see when he allows Aomine to skip practice if that’s what works for him. This will help you maintain a healthy balance in your relationship, allowing you to be able to feel more at ease and not trapped or like you have to be a certain way with one another

You decide to keep pursuing dancing? He’s proud of you, and will not hesitate to show off and boast about your achievements to the rest of the team

You had a rough week and you want to spend the whole day gaming with headphones on? It’s fine he’ll take the opportunity to relax and go fishing

On the other hand, you want to go shopping? Suddenly he’ll find himself walking hand in hand with you as you and his sister stop at every single store only to leave with more bags that you can carry.

At first, you would insist you could both take care of yourselves at the mall, but he soon found out that you two should not be left alone. She might be his sister but she’s younger and impressionable and she looks up to you? And you can be a bit scatterbrained so you lose track of her time so you always end up bringing her back really late, along with an armful of shopping bags that he’ll only have to go back and return within the week because being hasty runs in his family and his sister didn’t pay much attention to how much money she was spending

Overall- I think that what really makes you a good match is your ability to communicate with one another. Both of you are pretty honest and straightforward (although your executions are vastly different) which will help you navigate through any obstacles in your relationship

You keep each other on your toes and bring fun into your relationship while also settling down, talking about serious stuff and getting genuine advice from one another when you need it the most. The balance you maintain allowing a stable foundation for the relationship to grow and blossom. He did something hasty? It’s okay, you know exactly what to do to fix it. Someone keeps hitting on you insistently? He’s already walked over to intimidate him to go away. You want to spend quality time together but he wants to go fishing? There you are by his side, scribbling in your notebook and reciting your poetry to him as he listens carefully with a small smile on his face that you’ll definitely not tease him about later. You need help with your math again? he’ll tutor you in exchange for you making him a bento with his favorite meal. Until he learns that you somehow burned half the rice and left the other half uncooked. Perfect balance of give and take.

Bonus: Takao Kazunari

You are literally the girl version of Takao omg. (I literally JUST got your message about being the new Takao too smh I know I’m slow but let me finish this first)

You two are so alike and you would make the most chaotic duo but as much as I want to ship you two, I can just see you two being really good friends so I feel the need to include him in this

Midorima would be so done with your shit, he’d probably see you two together and immediately turn around and start walking the other way because he just KNOWS you’re bound to gang up and bully him

The first time you saw is lucky item you probably burst out laughing and thought he was joking until you saw his face flush red

After that, every time you ask about it he just grumbles out his answer, still salty about your initial reaction

Takao never fails to remind you either, trying to hold back his laugh whenever you try to make it up to Midorima but he ends up ignoring you, or you somehow just manage to make it worse

When it’s just you and Takao, you could be minding your business when suddenly one of you makes ONE singular little comment and that just sets off the other, adding onto it until both of you are crying with laughter

Honestly, the only time I can see you taking one another seriously is when you’re having discourse

He’s an optimistic person while you’re a realist which can set off some very interesting discussions between the two of you, your argumentative nature leading both of you to talk about anything and everything as you challenge the other’s ideologies

If you decide to try out a relationship, it’ll be filled with excitement and adrenaline, both of you needing very little persuasion to try out new things

You’ll be his partner in crime and he’ll be yours. You want to mess a bit with your younger neighbors? Why not? You want to go check out the new mall a few town’s over because they have a store you’ve been wanting to check out for months? He’s your man.

While the relationship is fun, you both can get a little ahead of yourselves, going with the flow and getting sucked into your own world; you’ll need someone to ground you

Usually, this role can be plaid by Midorima but it proves to be a bit problematic when he’s nowhere in sight

The amount of times you two have lost track of time or gotten caught up in something because you ran into some friends or even met new people and got lost in conversation, by this point Midorima has probably given up trying to keep track of your whereabouts when you’re together

I wouldn’t be surprised if you two ended up making your own language. He’s good with kids and bad at being quiet while you enjoy making new words and trying out sound effects which he would without a doubt find amusing. You’d probably go as far as to make children believe they’re actual words, could you imagine Midorima’s face when he goes over to Takao’s house and his younger sister starts talking to him in the made up words you taught her

Ultimately while your personalities are very alike, you tend to clash at the wrong points and it would take you working together to compromise to make a romantic relationship work

Both of you surround yourself by others, often finding yourself in the middle of everything, your personality constantly making other people gravitate towards you. This can prove conflicting when you’re together as now you’d have to learn how to share the spotlight, so to say

While you love fashion and makeup and shopping, the poor man just wants to enjoy his trading cards

Although you should use it to your advantage and make him drive you around in Princess Mia’s Midorima’s carriage.

Your might also find yourself more often than not at a crossroads, your realist point of view conflicting with his positivity which can lead to arguments between you two

Overall- a relationship with you would be exciting. There would never be a dull moment and you’d constantly encourage the other to have new experiences and make the most of your time. But moving into a more romantic territory would mean that you’d have to learn how to prioritize things in your life, knowing when to buckle down and get things down and how to successfully come to terms with and work out your differences.

Sidenote: I meant to make these a little longer but my brain cell only has so much KNB knowledge stored in her small little filing cabinet that may or may not be a single folder covered in dust and stuffed in some corner

#matchup request #[🏀].asks #i meant to have this ready early today #but i may or may not have fallen asleep #sorry #i'm slow #it really took me a whole ass week to write #but to be fair #i struggled a bit with your mans #bc I went strictly off what I could gather from the anime #which are CRUMBS

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yshai-tia · 5 years

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Character Interview: Y’shai Tia

► Name ➔ “Y’shai Tia, nice to meet’cha.”

► Are you single ➔ “Yep.”

► Are you happy ➔ “Aye, sure, why not? I’d say I’m pree’ chuffed.”

► Are you angry? ➔ “Naw, I’m good.”

► Are your parents still married ➔ “Married? Like bondin’, right? That’s a city slicker thing, so naw.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “Raincatcher Gully, out in Eastern La Noscea. Wouldn’ encourage ya to go findin’ exactly wherebouts... family ain’t exactly wild ‘bout company.”

► Hair Color ➔ “Black.”

► Eye Color ➔ “Blue on th’ left, green on th’ right, a common combo among Seekers, y’know?”

► Birthday ➔ “First Umbral moon, on the... twenty-eighth day. Early born in the year, Ma used to say I was an eager kit right from birth.”

► Mood ➔ “Still chuffed, mate.”

► Gender ➔ “A lad, las’ time I checked.”

► Summer or winter ➔ “Summer.. was always warm where I grew up, yeah? The cold is a helluva nasty thing, I’ve come to learn.”

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Mm.. the morn’. Got more daylight to burn aheada ya.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “Wif what?” cue head-tilt.

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Hells, that’s a lot to feel all at once, ain’t it? Interest at sight, sure-- curiosity at sight, aye, a deep, simmerin’ curiosity you can’t ignore.”

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “Huh, not much time on me hands since leaving home t’ forge such things, ask me again some other time, yeah?”

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “Cor, I sure as hells hope not, that’d been right awful of me.”

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “... Hum. No? But-- am lil’ scared maybe ‘bout being held back, y’know. Being controlled. If it’s a worthy cause though.. I give it my all. Always. Jaguar’s promise.”

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Hugged..? I don’ think-- oh! Few days back I helped Joye out wif some chores, she hugged me when she thanked me, that count, right?”

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “If I do they’re damn good at keepin’ secrets-- c’mon lemme enjoy the admiration a little!”

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “Dunno. Hard to say, like to think I bounce back pree’ quick from most things, so all’s bene.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “Call me a sinner but why not both? Do I gotta choose?”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Lemonade. La Noscea shores grow some crackin’ fruit.”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Bet’cha get a real kick askin’ Miqo’te this, don’tcha? Both are cute buggers, don’t make me choose.”

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “Hmm, s’good to have people you can trust good an’ proper.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “How ‘bout... a wild night out that turns into a romantic night in that has us snoozin’ away the day, if ya catch my meanin’.”

► Day or night ➔ “If ya asked me some moons ago I’d’ve said day in a heartbeat. But. Night’s gotta lot of fun waitin’ to happen if ya give it a chance.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Cor, more times than I can count.” A wide, bashful grin spreads across his features then, lost in nostalgia. “Firs’ time was when I was just a kit; took some of my littermates out of Jaguar territory, told’m we were goin’ on an adventure, heh. No one got hurt or nothin’ but Y’mijoh Nunh gave us such a dressin’ down, gods, I can still hear his voice ringin’ in me ears. Feels like a lifetime ago and yesterday all the same.”

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “No way, we Miqo’te have crackin’ balance, y’know? Tails ain’t just for show-- no those damn stairs in Ishgard don’ count, those things are bloody ice-covered death traps.”

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “... Aye. Who hasn’t?”

► Wanted to disappear ➔ “In a way, I kinda did when I left, but. Wasn’ out of want for disappearin’ none, no, just felt like.. the right thing to do, y’know? If anythin’ now I’d like th’ opposite, to be noticed for what I can do. Earn my keep in this life and all that.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “’Nother hard choice, damn. Not fair-- y’know that look when folk smile, really smile, they get a whole toothy grin that splits their cheeky face that they can’t hide for the life of’em? Th’ sort that reaches their eyes an’ makes’em light up all a sparkle? That’s tops.”

► Shorter or Taller ➔ “Shorter’s cute. Too many of those tall as fuck Elezen an’ Au Ra blokes who tote ‘round their height, usin’ it to be all aggressive over ye. Right assholes the lot of’em-- no I ain’t jealous, I ain’t pouting!”

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “Figure if yer attracted to someone there’s somethin’ you’ll find intelligent ‘bout them; book learnin’, street smarts, good wif their hands. One in the same prolly.”

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “Hm. Both have their merits, aye? Though I guess... ain’t there somethin’ nice ‘bout the thought of wakin’ up next to a ‘nother warm body? Someone who fancied ya ‘nuff to stick around. Shit, thas’ corny to say, ainnit?”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ “Back when I was still around, aye, mostly. Love me Ma to death, and Y’mijoh was a good Nunh-- stern, but real fatherly like to just ‘bout everyone, no matter if he was yer sire or not. Sure there were some who.. who didn’t like me an’ my Ma all that much, for real stupid reasons if ye ask me, but. For the most part.. was good. Miss’em.”

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “Naw, why be so glum? Ups and downs, topsy-turvy like any other life really. Been out an’ about long ‘nuff now to have heard other folks’ stories, we all got our triumphs an’ trials.”

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “Guess I sorta did, huh? Puttin’ it that way sounds so kittish though...”

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “From what? A house? A job? A bar? Nay, well.. maybe almost on that las’ one.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “Naw, I ain’t ‘fraid to butt heads when it comes to conflicts, sometimes a good scrap is good for a friendship y’know?”

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “Pree’ good I s’ppose.”

► Who is your best friend ➔ “Hrmm.. guess don’ really got one proper since leavin’ home--oh! How ‘bout my ‘bo? Omelette sticks by me no matter where I drag th’ poor yellow sod, thas’ best friend standard to me.”

► Who knows everything about you ➔ “No one I hope, not even me, where’s th’ fun in knowin’ all me secrets? Though Omelette might be comin’ pretty close what with how often he listens to me ramble... how good is a Chocobo’s memory?”

Tagged by: @placesyoucallhome (thank ya muchly!)

Tagging: @warriorof-sun-light, @amahrigold, @trahja-tia, @silvertail-ffxiv, @miqojak, @lady-vagrant, @lightdevoid, @nijah-wolff-ffxiv, @natali-tia, @toe-ab

#★in the mirror [self screenshots]#★thoughts are meant to be spoken [writing]#sorry if i tagged ya and you've already done this!

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ld9-the-draft · 5 years

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Donation

I literally sat and spent half the day writing this. It really should be revised first, but I’m out of time, so here it is. Thank you @alexprompts for the prompt. I hope you enjoy reading it. Please read any of my other pieces, as well, and never ever be afraid to tell me what you thought. I love feedback.

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“Why do rain and neon always seem to go together?”

Andre paused opening the trunk of the car to process what he’d just heard. “What?”

He turned around to see Nathan standing in the middle of the alley, rain pelting him in the head. He was gently turning his hand back and forth in front of himself. The blue and red from the body shop’s neon DONATIONS sign crawled over his hand as the rain pattered against his pale skin.

“Why do—” Nathan started, still watching his hand.

“I heard you,” Andre snapped. He turned his glare back to the car and rummaged hastily about in the trunk. “We don’t have time for another one of your weird philosophizings, man. Get out of the rain and get your ass over here.”

Nathan blinked up from his hand, muttered, “Oh, right,” and hurried under the awning to Andrew’s side.

“Grab the legs,” Andre gestured with a thrust of his jaw, his hands hooked under one end of the long lumpy bundle in the trunk.

Nathan reached for the other end, but hesitated. “How do you know this end is the legs?”

Andre sputtered for a second before clamping his jaw and taking a deep breath through his nose. “Just grab you-THAT end,” he growled. Nathan raised his hands placatingly, then dug them under the bundle and helped heft it out of the car.

The two men shuffled to the door. Nathan nearly dropped it a couple of times, his hands slipping on the smooth nylon tarp while Andre huffed and glowered at him. At the door, which was not under the awning like the large corrugated cargo door, Andre had to balance the bundle onto one hand and a lifted knee while he twisted the doorknob. The knob turned, but the door didn’t open. Andre yanked on it a couple times and dropped his end of the bundle in a puddle. Water splashed up his leg and soaked his pants. He swore and shoot looks up and down the alley. Nathan followed suit a beat later.

“Dammit,” he swore again. “I thought you said the keep this door unlocked.” He fished in his jacket pocket for his lock picks. The only good thing about tonight so far was the dead bolt could be unlocked from the outside, so he wouldn’t have to break the window. That would’ve ended their little mission real fast.

Behind him, Nathan put his end of the bundle down and shrugged. He kept looking up and down the alley. “I mean, it’s the donation door, right? You’re supposed to be able to donate stuff all the time.”

It took longer than he wanted (his hands were shaking and he was sure the rain wasn’t helping, either), but Andre managed to pick the dead bolt. He jerked the door open and spun around. When he saw Nathan had set the bundle down completely, he sputtered again.

“What the hell- Why did- Jesus-” He took another deep breath and flicked a hand at the bundle. “Just pick the damn thing up already.”

Nathan complied, saying, “It’s not really a thing, you know.”

“It is now.” They hurried inside and found a dim room with a silver metal table and a collection of tools and a bunch of metal and glass cabinets immediately next to the door, so they eased their way in and set the bundle on the table.

“OK, so, now what?” Nathan asked. He was leaning his head into the hallway and peering into the shadows concealing the rest of the building. Neon red and blue shined off the rainwater on the floor that had been blown in by the wind or tracked on their shoes.

“Now,” Andre said as he flipped the lights on, “We make it look like it was already here.”

Nathan turned and eyed the tools and the bundle warily. “Can you do that?”

“Not much choice.” Andre shrugged. “After tonight, it’s either that or we get donated.” He started untying the quick sloppy knots they had used to secure the tarp.

Nathan’s brows crashed into each other and he shifted a bit from one foot to the other a couple times. “I don’t want to be donated.”

Andre paused and glanced over his shoulder at Nathan. He sighed a little and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know, man. Me, either. Go close the trunk and the door before somebody sees. I’m probably going to need your help.”

The other man nodded, still frowning. “OK,” he said and stepped outside. Andre tried not think about what he might have to do with Nathan now and instead focused on the task at hand.

The trunk slammed. Then, the wind and rain were muted as Nathan closed the door. The window rattled in the frame when he did. Nathan ran his hand over the grains of the door and examined the cracked paint and worn wood with wistful eyes. “It fits because it used to be alive, too,” he whispered.

Then, he went into the room with the bundle. Andre had untied the ropes and was yanking the tarp open. The plastic crinkling sounded especially loud inside, but maybe that was only because they didn’t want to be heard.

Inside the tarp was a man, a dead man. He wore blue jeans, now black from soaking up blood, and nothing else. He was well-muscled and looked powerful even in death. He was the kind of man you saw playing an assassin in the movies, Andre thought. The man had been shot and stabbed and he must not have been completely dead when they wrapped him because some blood had pooled in the tarp. It spilled and splattered on the tile floor while Andre tried to smooth the tarp out of the way.

“Shit,” he spat. “Find something to clean that up. Try not to touch anything you don’t have to.”

Nathan nodded, his eyes never leaving the man in the tarp. He start to back out of the room, bumped into the wall, felt for the doorway, and finally stepped into the dark hall.

Andre eyed the dead man’s body and nodded to himself for several seconds before realizing he was stalling. He took another deep breath (he wondered if he was just trying to hold on to the memory of air in his lungs for as long as possible) and grabbed an electric saw from the tools laid out beside the table.

He certainly did not know what he was doing. It took Nathan longer than he would have thought to find a mop and a bucket with some water. By the time he got back, Andre had only managed to cut off one of the man’s arms at the shoulder. He knew the cut was rough and jagged and anyone who knew what they were looking at would know it hadn’t been done by a professional, but it was the best he could do, and he hoped it wouldn’t matter by the time someone noticed. He also knew he was covered in blood. They hadn’t bothered to find scrubs or gowns or anything the recyclers probably normally used, so his clothes were a splattered crimson. Some of it had hit him in the face, too, and he tried to think of it as just dirty water or grime or some other unpleasant but normal substance he had been covered in working manual labor jobs in the past. Nathan started to wretch as soon as he got a closer look.

“Do NOT throw up in here,” Andre snapped, but it was too late. Nathan bolted for one of the sinks in the corner of the room and vomited. Andre tried to hold his temper in check and focus very hard on cutting through the dead man’s leg. “At least you did it in the sink, I guess. Rinse out the sink. Get all of it down the drain.”

The next few hours consisted of Andre cutting the man into parts while Nathan tried to keep the floor clean of all the drips and spills and to not throw up again. The hardest part was the internal organs. They had to be removed individually and that required a steady hand and delicate touch that Andre just didn’t have. He did what he could, though. When it was done, there were four limbs (two legs and two arms), a heart, two lungs, a stomach, a liver, a small and large intestine, and kidney resting in bloody bins beside the table. The head had been placed in its own bin.

“N-now what?” Nathan stammered from across the room. He gripped the mop like the world might fall away if he let go and he looked like he wanted throw up again.

“Now,” Andre managed to get out, “We bag ‘em up. Got to look like they were already here, remember?” He nodded at the remains for a second or two, then marched to the sink. He turned the water on and stood there a moment before vomiting.

Behind him, Nathan murmured, “We took his insides and now our insides are coming out. Is that how it works?”

Andre panted into the sink and ignored him. He rinsed the taste of bile from his mouth, then washed the mess down the drain. He swore again and spit into the sink and rinsed that, too. “OK,” he panted. “OK, let’s find where they keep the bags and all that.”

He and Nathan used the lights from their cells to search the building. Andre couldn’t tell if the place was old or just a broke back alley recycler. Judging from the wooden back door, it could have been both. Nobody used wood anymore. It certainly wasn’t sterile like the high end body shops, either. It’d be lucky to pass an inspection. The equipment looked out of date, too. They didn’t go into the front—they didn’t want anyone to see the lights and call the cops—but Andre bet the parts they had on the shelves (and the parts would be on shelves, not the automated conveyors designed to give you a good look without having to put your nasty fingers on anything) were low grade, stuff fished out of the dumpster or hacked off at home to make a quick buck.

It didn’t take long to find the bags and the vacuum equipment. The shop wasn’t big and the owners were clearly trying to maximize space, but thankfully they were also well organized. The bags were in boxes stacked neatly in a corner crammed beside the vacuum itself. Andre was a little surprised it still had wheels.

They dragged the vacuum and several bags of various sizes into the prep room. Andre hesitated at firs. He couldn’t remember if the parts got rinsed before they were sealed. It made sense to him they would be, but he also thought he’d heard somewhere the parts need the blood to stay healthy or something. They didn’t have time to ponder it or figure it out, so he went with his gut; they went in bloody.

Every part got its own bag. Bulk packaging was a dead giveaway the parts were illegal. Andre had Nathan hold each bag open while he plopped the organs in first. The pale man, still a little green, too, squeezed his eyes shut and looked away for each part and flinched each time the organ hit the bag.

The limbs came next. Longer, larger, heavier, it took a little more cooperation and work to get them into their bags, and the men had to try three different sized bags on the first arm before they found a size that worked. Andre swore under his breath the whole time, but couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. He wondered if they would ever stop and why Nathan’s were so steady. The head was last to go into a bag.

The next step was the worst, because it was the loudest. It was most likely to get them noticed. For as long as vacuums had existed, they still hadn’t gotten much quieter. A few flipped switches and a press of a button and the machine groaned to life. Andre’s gritted his teeth hard as the sound seemed to swell louder and larger. He knew he would never hear sirens over that noise. He just hoped they could get it done fast and get out. Nathan stood beside him shifting from one foot to the other. He had his hands clasped over ears and winced at the smothering drone.

Andre gently pushed him aside to stand by the wall. He was pretty sure he could do this part alone. He had to turn the first bag this way and that a few times, but he eventually figured out how to hook it up to the machine. He had never actually seen one in used before. He only had the same general knowledge everyone else did. It sucked the air out of one end of the bag to create a hermetic seal, while some kind of preservative was pumped into the other end. Expensive machines made seals that supposedly lasted indefinitely. Andre guessed something like this, beaten, used, and outdated, would only guarantee viability for a year or so at best.

He worked as quickly and methodically as possible. Before one part was sealed, he already had the next in hand, ready to swap them out. It was lucky the bags were tough even if they were probably cheap, because he was sure he would have torn thinner plastic. Finally, though, they were all sealed. Andre flicked switches again and turned the vacuum back off. There was a brief moment of dullness, when the quiet pressed in hard on the suddenly noiseless space.

Then, he heard it. Sirens.

“Fuck!” Andre snarled. He turned to Nathan, speaking quickly, “There was a cart in the room we got the vacuum from. Take this stuff back and bring the cart here. Now.”

Nathan nodded emphatically and scurried down the hall. Andre grabbed the dead man’s head and tossed it onto the tarp with the torso. He wrapped them up in the tarp enough that he was sure nothing would fall or drip out, then grabbed the tarp in two hands and hauled it out the back door.

The sirens were louder in the alley. Andre wasn’t sure which direction they were heading. Maybe they weren’t even for him and Nathan. It would be stupid to take the chance. Stupid to think that were true.

He dropped the bag by the car and fumbled the keys out of his jacket pocket. They slipped from his hand into a puddle. He spit a stream of dark curses while he bent to retrieve them. Another few seconds of panicked fumbling. He nearly dropped the keys again, but found the fob. He jammed it against the lock until the trunk door lifted slightly, then yanked it open. Andre grabbed the tarp and hauled it into the trunk and slammed it shut. Then, he rushed back inside.

Nathan, for once, was on top of things. He had not only returned the vacuum and the bags, but the parts were mostly loaded onto the cart. Andre silently thanked God and helped him put the rest on the cart.

“I got this. Go get in the car,” Andre told him. Nathan hesitated, bag in hand. Andre snatched it from him, tossed it on the cart, and pulled him toward the door. “Go. I got this.” Nathan nodded, somehow shifting from foot to foot while walking, but Andre gripped his arm tightly a moment first. He waited until Nathan looked him in the eye and said, “Do not leave without me. Stay in the car.”

“Yeah,” Nathan replied, looking a bit confused. Or worried. Andre wasn’t sure which.

He let Nathan go and finished loading up the cart. The sirens were definitely louder now. No way they weren’t coming for the two of them. Andre barreled down the hall with the cart. He slammed open the swinging doors separating the back rooms from the business up front and barely avoided knocking over a whole shelf of parts. Blue and red lights whipped through the front windows. Shit. It was so hard to tell how far away they were in the city.

Voices called out. He couldn’t tell what they said, but Andre knew they were for him. He rushed around the shelves, trying to use the strobing police lights to find where the parts belonged, desperately hoping they would blend in.

A gunshot went off.

“FUCK!” he cried. Something was happening outside. It was time to go. He didn’t even both putting the cart back, just shoved it out of the way. His brain flipped through a mental checklist while he sprinted down the hall. Was there anything they left? Did they clean everything up? Were all the organs sealed? Was anything else out of place? He hadn’t even made it that far before he was in the driver’s seat, stabbing the key into place.

“Wait,” Nathan started, but Andre was already putting the car into gear and accelerating. “What about the body and the tarp?”

Andre shook his head. “In the trunk. Torso’s empty; they won’t take it. It’d be weird to leave it.” They whipped out into the late night traffic, briefly heading the wrong way on a one way street until Andre took them down another alley. “Got to bring the head, too. We leave that and they’ll know who the parts belong to real fast.”

“Oh.” Nathan sat back in his seat with his brows pressed together while he considered that. “Dre?”

The other man slowed down and pulled into traffic more or less safely and in the right direction this time. He looked in the rear view mirror almost as much as he watched the road in front of him. He was so focused on looking for a tail he didn’t answer for three blocks.

“What’s up, Nate?” Andre’s hands still clenched the wheels tight enough his knuckles were white. He tried to get them to let go, but couldn’t. They would just have to drive around a while, he guessed.

“Is everything going to be ok?” Nathan sat with his hands in lap. He kept interlacing his fingers, pulling them apart until just the tips touched, then lacing them again so the other hand was on top. His feet kept moving on the floor, too, back and forth. His eyes were locked on his hands and his brows were firmly locked together.

Andre didn’t answer for another block. They had blended properly at this point, obeying the speed limit and lights. No more weaving in between other cars. It gave him time to think. It wasn’t Nathan’s fault what had happened, not really. Shitty circumstances combined with awful timing and cruel coincidence. That’s all it was.

That’s all it was.

But the dead man’s friends wouldn’t see it that way. His boss wouldn’t see it that way.

It was impossible for them to stay in the city now. Andre was scrambling to think of a safe place for them to lay low in the short term until he could come up with something more permanent. Something that would still include Nathan and his weird-ass questions and comments.

“Yeah, man,” he said, finally. He pried his hand off the steering wheel and ruffled Nathan’s hair. “Everything’s going to ok.”

Nathan looked over at him. His brows cracked enough to be two separate items on his face again. “Really?”

“Yeah, man,” Andre said again. He put as much kindness and reassurance as he could into the words. He even forced a smirk onto his face and flashed it at the man sitting next to him. “I promise.”

#ld9 #the draft #donation #scifi #sci-fi #science fiction #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #murder #fiction #read my writing #alexprompts #alexpromptsneonglow #writing prompt

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jojotier · 5 years

Note

"Where do I obtain a wedgie board? Do I have to make my own wedgie or can I buy one from a witch or vegan?" - Arataka Reigen

(You’re right!)

“Mmmm… Mobbbbb…” Reigen slurred, glancing off to the side. “W-where do I… get a wedgie board? Huh? Do I make my own, wedgie or can I buy one from an esper or…” He wracked his brains for a moment, trying to think of the word. He stared first at the shot of whiskey in his hand, and then to his other hand, because maybe he’d written it down there. Except, wait. He didn’t, because he was a fully functional adult that owned paper. Paper and writing software. Reigen was set. He checked his other hand before remembering that he didn’t have another hand, because he only had two of them.

God. What was he thinking about? “… vegan.” He finished for some reason but didn’t really know why.

On his other side, a voice said, “You sent him home like three hours ago, you brain-melted dumbass.”

Reigen turned his head towards the voice and squinted, watching the floating ball of mean green (mother, from outer space,) idly hover nearby. Kind of like the idle animation on a video game. Man… Reigen should get a video game. It’d been years since he played…

Ekubo manifested a scrawny arm from his weird plasma snot flesh and pointed an extremely uncanny human finger towards Reigen. “Hey! Listen up!! Don’t just go staring off into space, you creep!”

“I did send Mob home. Oh yeah.” Reigen mused, body slowly curling forwards to rest his cheek against his desk. And now here he was. Drinking on the job. Or well, not on the job- the office had been closed for hours now, and Mob needed a night off to spend with his parents. Man, sometimes, with all the shenanigans that Reigen had done where he and Mob got into super magical special ~psychic adventures~, he forgot that he had those. He guessed you just got used to being a de facto father figure. The side father. The one Mob was cheating on his real father with. God… did that make Reigen a homewrecker?

Blinking quickly, he told himself he wouldn’t cry, but- dammit, he didn’t want to be one!

Ekubo seemed to be saying something, and it occurred to Reigen that he was probably tuning the spirit out. He could feel somewhat bad about that, and he was just about to, when he remembered that Ekubo was kind of an asshole. But then again, assholishness notwithstanding, Reigen wanted to extend spirits the courtesy of a living person… but wait.

“Do you have a butthole?” Reigen slurred out, interrupting whatever Ekubo was in the middle of saying. He was just musing out loud, really. Didn’t really wanna think about his earlier thoughts… they’d probably make him cry. Ekubo made a face, but because his face just so happened to be slathered all over the surface of his weird blob body, he just kind of looked like putty stretching inward on itself. Which was, objectively, pretty hilarious. Reigen giggled a bit, bringing his hand to his mouth to cover the kind of undignified sound before realizing, oh wait, this was the whiskey hand. He could drink more of that!

“I fucking despise that I know you,” Ekubo groused, huffing out a breath after he got done throwing his tiny spinny tantrum. “God, you’re such a drunkard- why do you even need a ouija board? You can just have Mob see everything for you!”

“Well yeaaaaaaaaaa,” Reigen drawled, sitting up a bit more and downing the last of his drink. Finally, he was free to gesture as much as he wanted, and he did so with relish, tossing the arm with the empty shot glass towards the side and waving his hand up and down to help visualize his point, “but I still need one! It’s for the good of my- my customers, see? Every psychic has t’, have one!”

“No, they really don’t. Those things don’t even work.” Ekubo said flatly. Then two arms appeared and he laid them both across his face, “Wait- this is more scam shit. You don’t really believe that load of garbage, do you?”

“What!” Reigen exclaimed, utterly offended. His not-glass hand went over his heart, clutching the fabric of his suit as the other jabbed the air in an uncoordinated mess of gesticulating. “How- how dare you, you weird smile slime? In my own office? You’re gonna just accuse me, in my own psychic office, of scheming.”

“Scamming, more like. You’re too stupid to scheme anything really meaningful!” Ekubo shot back, and Reigen figured that the spirit no doubt was thinking about. Whatever dastardly booger based Saturday morning cartoony reformed evil spirits thought about now.

“‘M not scamming, not really,” Okay that sounded a little fake, even to him. “Th-the feelings, Ekubo- the feelings my clients come in and leave with? Those are real,”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ekubo groaned, but Reigen wasn’t done yet.

“They come in here, desperate and destitute- most of them not even knowing what they really need if anything!” Reigen gestured more, and his grip on the glass tightened. “Some of them aren’t ready to face that they’re the cause of their own stuff- so if they wanna, wanna blame it on spirits ‘n such, tha’s on them, y’know? I’m just here to help!”

“And take their money,”

“But mostly to help-!”

And just like that, there was the sound of glass shattering. Reigen blearily glanced down at the floor beside the desk chair and calmly regarded the remnants of the shot glass that had been in his hands mere moments before. Ekubo also looked on, completely unimpressed.

Reigen blinked. “Man. I’m really drunk.”

“No shit,” Ekubo rudely said, hovering back on his desk with the other shot glasses that were still there. It was only just now getting to be really late- but then again, if Reigen stayed at the office and set a timer on his cell, he could just wake up and clean this mess up while sober, before the workday started. Which hey, it still gave him time for another round, if he really wanted to knock himself out good for the night…

Reigen got up and was about to say something when everything suddenly started tipping around him. Quickly catching himself on the edge of his desk, he tried to blink the dizziness from his eyes as he tried to regain his bearings. Damn… it’d felt fine when he was sitting! It wasn’t like he’d had that many drinks… Mostly because it was all from one bottle that he had the great idea to separate into different cups for extra fanciness about two drinks in, but still- he was totally fine. Just had to… steady it.

“You’re fucking hopeless,” Ekubo huffed, slowly floating backward. “Now hold still.”

“Eh?” Reigen muttered intelligently, squinting at Ekubo. “Wh-what d’ya need me to-”

Then Ekubo rushed him and it felt like a cold wind had swept straight into Reigen’s body. The feeling settled somewhere on the right side, where his heart would have been if he looked in a mirror, and then slowly spread to every inch of him. At first, it was cold- then it got warmer, and then, just plain numb. Reigen’s body straightened up on its own and Reigen heard, in the back of his head, God, you’re such a fucking lightweight!

“Ekubo, what the hell?!” Reigen said out loud, and god, he was happy at least that was still fine. His legs started moving, but Reigen didn’t feel himself moving- he just felt the phantom imprints of feeling in his limbs, swaying gently under the spirit’s influence, and felt blood pool in his cheeks. “I never authorized you to start fuckin… fuck… piloting me like an EVA!”

I’m not piloting you, idiot, I’m possessing you. Ekubo huffed, and despite himself, Reigen felt a wide smile creep over his face. ‘Sides, it’s not like I can do much- even when you’re out of it like this, I can’t exert any full-time control.

“Oh, well! That’s re-a-surrring,” Reigen got a glimpse of himself in a mirror as he passed by and was only annoyed that he couldn’t grimace. God, he looked like some kind of weird zombie, shambling forwards and swaying; cheeks branded with red circles like a goddamn cartoon. With great effort, Reigen found that he could kind of exert some control over himself- though it took… a lot more concentration than he was willing to think on. His nerves jumped under the skin of his arm like a bunch of spiders as he brought a hand up to smack himself on the cheek, stopping short of the door.

Hey! Come on, don’t try pushing me out-

“Well, well tell me where we’re goin’, firs’-!” Knees suddenly buckling, he leaned against the wall, vision swimming. “Y’ can’t just, take on someone’s body liike that without sayin’ what you want-”

Alright, alright, Ekubo said, and even if he wasn’t visible (being inside of Reigen in a totally nonsexual way) Reigen could just tell the little shit was rolling his eyes. I’m getting you back to your house and bed because you’re drunk off your ass! Otherwise, you’re gonna smell like shit in the morning and then you’re gonna complain when all your idiot customers get scared away by your reek.

“I don’t stink!” Reigen shot back, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

You will, if you don’t have the chance to take a shower- and then you’re gonna bitch at me about having a slow day! Ekubo complained, slowly exerting control back over Reigen’s legs. Now come on- you’re a real god damn lightweight.

“But the- the glas,” Reigen whined, glancing back with some effort towards his desk. “Mob’ll be, worried if he sess.”

He doesn’t get here until the afternoon, dumbass!

Reigen thought this over. “… Oh yea. I g… guuess, I sh’ld, go h-” And as Reigen tried to step forward on his own, his knees suddenly buckled, and he sprawled out on the floor. For a moment, he just laid there, face down because damn. This must have looked pitiful. Biting his lip, he tried not to cry- except that wasn’t his own doing. He guessed that was just Ekubo’s. “Maybe I nnneed… hel’p, gettin’ back.”

Wow, what gave you that idea, genius? Ekubo snarked from inside his head as Reigen retracted control again. The numbness spread back into his limbs, and his body heaved itself up, now much more balanced. Stop being such a damn crybaby. You’re a grown ass man- at this point, it’s just pathetic.

“Oh, piss off,” Reigen mumbled as his body finally shuffled out onto the streets.

The feeling of being possessed was… weirdly restful. Which sounded all kinds of wrong when one was possessed by a spirit who used to have a penchant for weird cult shit, but it was still restful nonetheless. It didn’t feel as if Reigen himself was really exerting any energy, with his limbs roving on their own. Plus, with the slow going, it wasn’t too bad- the streets had quieted down, and Reigen’s eyes were allowed to wonder around his surroundings. Lots of lights everywhere, shops closing down… And then there was the feeling of kind of being rocked inside his own body, mind relaxing back while the rest of him was on autopilot.

“I shouln’t do this too offen,” Reigen slurred sleepily, eyes blinking hard against an onslaught of exhaustion, “or else you’ll prob’ly get the wrong idea.”

You’re the one who can’t even keep your own eyes open! Ekubo huffed. But I guess I have to deal with that, huh. Just like I have to deal with all this shit around here.

“Mm.” Reigen hummed back, but even with the visual stimuli still coming towards him, he was starting to slip into unconsciousness. He tried to think on what else he could have even said to that, but the mix of alcohol and exhaustion from another eventful day of dealing with powers far beyond his reach, he began to fall asleep.

Reigen’s body straightened up immediately, movements becoming much more fluid. His arms stretched up, back popping slightly before he settled a hand on his chin, a smirk on his face. “Damn. The idiot actually lost consciousness! I could really take this body out for a spin…” The possessed man looked at the row of shops lining the entrance to the subway, a slow grin spreading.

Then, it dropped, and he sighed. “Ah, no. Shigeo will have my head on a platter…” That was his excuse, anyway. He was plenty strong as was, but… he’d rather not chance these sorts of things, when it came to Mob and his esteemed bastard of a mentor.

Ekubo continued to steer Reigen’s body back to his apartment, dealing with the conman’s snores in the back of his mind all the while.

#mp100 #reigen arataka #ekubo mp100 #mob psycho 100 #possession #but dw!!! its for a Good Cause #welp heres my first attempt at mp100 fic #i think reigen and ekubo have a hilarious friendship #fanfiction #my writing #humor #fluff

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davidquigg · 6 years

Photo

This is a short story I declared finished almost seven years ago. I dredged it up accidentally on Saturday morning by plugging “Canon AE-1″ into my Gmail’s sent messages.

I still like this story and care about it but nonetheless have shown that I’m capable of forgetting it exists, so I’m posting it here to give it a chance to go play outside.

SOMETHING ABOUT AIRPLANES

Draw her face.

Or his.

Yes, yes, you're not an artist.

Fine. Shut up.

Just try.

Try because I want you to know what I came to know only a few hours ago.

Start simple. Get paper. Get a pencil. Sketch the shape of her face. Don't overthink. Let's stipulate that this will not be art.

Just sketch.

You're paralyzed, obviously. I had the same problem. This is what it feels like when you start to know what I came to know only a few hours ago.

Go on. Sketch the outline of her face. It's just a shape. This could be middle-school geometry. I mean, you've got to know the shape of her face. You've thought of her at least once today. Because today is either a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, and whenever it's Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, you think of her. So you've got to know the shape of her face.

This is when you'll be tempted to screw this all up by cheating. Log the fuck off Facebook.

You don't get to look at that little thumbnail photo she posted to her profile. You don't get to look at it because it's cheating. You also don't get to look at it because you promised yourself you wouldn't look at it. She's not even your Facebook friend. And you've supposedly come to realize that there's something unseemly about clicking on the profile of one of your seven mutual Facebook friends and then clicking through to see their friends just so you can scroll down and smear your screen with nose grease because you're crowding in close and then closer to her thumbnail photo. Look at it this way: If she lived next door to a friend of yours, would you contrive to visit that friend's place just so you could look out his window and into hers? Don't answer that. I'm liable to hate you for your answer. Or I'm liable to hate myself less. I'm not interested in hating myself less. I'm not interested in you hating yourself less. I'm interested in you knowing what I came to know only a few hours ago.

So sketch. It's hopeless. I know. Let me save you some hours. Draw an oval. Any oval. Does the oval look exactly like the outline of her face? No. Obviously. But it's a start. Darken the inner edge of the bottom of the oval. Does the oval look more like her? Less like her? Adjust accordingly. Keep darkening inner edges. Keep assessing. Keep adjusting. Somehow you will eventually end up with a shape that seems surprisingly right.

Now pick a facial feature. Maybe eyes. You're not an artist. I know. Neither am I. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because I just need you to point to the exact spot inside the oval where her right eye should go. You've got to know that, obviously.

It's hard. But you got the face shape eventually. Or you think you did. So you should try. Just point to the spot. Just point. With the pencil. If I managed it, you'll be able to manage it.

But did I actually say that I managed it? I'm pretty sure I didn't say that. I didn't say it because it didn't happen.

Try to realize what this means and let it really sink in. Try. I say "Try" because you're not going to realize what this means. What you're going to do is wonder what this means.

You're going to wonder what it can mean that the same brain that can picture Jay Fucking Leno or Don Fucking Knotts or Angelina Jolie or Justin Fucking Bieber is only capable of rendering her as some smudge in a haze of longing.

She accused you once of just loving the idea of her. But nobody had ever been more real to you, so the accusation seemed ridiculous. And now this.

You have never had a sewer rat lick you with the ardent, rhythmic persistence of a family dog. But just the thought nauseates you, and rat-lick nausea's back-of-the-throat scuttling is what you feel now. Without knowing why. Without really knowing what this whole Leno- Knotts-Jolie-Bieber-her syndrome adds up to. Knowing, though, that it is something novel and morale-wrecking and mercilessly survivable.

Everything seems to be mercilessly survivable. This, for example. It happened years ago, when I could have drawn her face. It is happening years ago, when I can draw her face. It is happening.

She has found me out. Or thinks she has. She does not see me seeing that she is setting a trap. She is among the new CDs. In the D section of the shop. I look away.

A moment before, she did something to a copy of Something About Airplanes. I don't know what. But it doesn't matter. I'm assuming it involves some kind of subtle identifying mark. If I wanted to avoid getting caught, the specifics of what she'd done to the CD would matter. I don't want to avoid getting caught.

What she is doing now is an equal mystery to me. As I said, I have looked away. This is not an easy thing to have done. She has made a starer of me. I am not a starer. I could have been. I would have been. But back when my unfurling teenage libido threatened to ruin me, Andrea Zilpop sat me down on a humming Kenmore dryer and made me watch "The Tao of Steve" on the TV/VCR her parents had installed in their laundry room.

Andrea had seen the movie at work, which for her in those days was Rain City Video in Fremont. She hoped the movie might somehow trump my testosterone and allow me to remain someone she could bear to stay friends with. Her plan was not crazy. There is, I dimly remember, some learn-a-lesson section of the movie. But that is not the lesson I learned. What stuck in my brain instead is one pillar of the obese, irresistible protagonist's mantra of seduction: "Be desireless."

Being desireless has worked. So I have stuck with being desireless. In every way. I do not, for example, stare.

As I said, I have looked away.

I do not want to be looking away. My face tingles from the perverseness of looking away from Mali. Mali may be her real name. Or it may not. Maybe her east-of-the-mountains parents named her Molly and she has moved to Seattle and become Mali. I don't care. This isn't about her name. This isn't about her Value Village clothes. This isn't about her piercings. This isn't even about the seemingly extravagant breast tattoo that reveals its topmost sliver whenever she interrupts her clack-clack-clack perusal of our latest used CDs and arches her back.

I am an expert on what this is not about.

I balance a stack of CDs on my left palm. New CDs. Not truly new. Used, in fact. But new to us. Willy bought them. Sam priced them. Now I'm stocking them.

Somewhere in this stack is Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. I know this because an imaginary Jeff Tweedy has been singing my favorite track inside my brain from the moment I picked up the stack. "… Tall buildings shake / Voices escape singing sad, sad songs …" Jeff just sang that.

Imaginary Jeff.

When I'm stocking, there is always a song in my head. And sometime during the course of stocking, I always discover that the disc that holds the song has been in my hands all along.

Somewhere in the stack. This has stopped freaking me out. It has stopped seeming mystical, beautiful, impressive, oppressive.

Someone is moving into my peripheral vision. Closer. Closer. Whoever this is, they are not Mali. Even out of the corner of my eye, the blur is all wrong. And they're getting close in a looming, intrusive way she never does.

"Uh, have you heard if …" He does not pause. The elipsis is mine. Because, hell, I just have to interrupt. Here, at least.

Even if not in real life.

Because it's so obvious what's going to happen here. It's time to play Stump the Record Store Guy. And, yes, I'm human. I'm stump-able. But not by this guy. I can tell that from his blur. I don't even have to look over at him. I can also tell his question is not real. He doesn't want an answer. He wants me to know that he knows stuff that he assumes I don't know. Fine, I'll let him talk.

"Uh, have you heard if Andrew Bird is going to put out a live CD of his '05 show at Doug Fir Lounge? I think it was like April. Yeah, April 9th. Best show I've ever been to, dude."

No it wasn't, I want to say. Because this guy was not at the show. Don't ask me how I know. I just do.

"Yeah, they say …"

This is the sure tipoff that all this comes directly off the Web. Which is cool. Just be straight about it.

"Yeah, they say it was his best performance ever of that Happy Birthday song."

This is nonsense, of course. I don't claim to know when Andrew Bird's best performance of the song happened. But I do know that he performed a purer, better version in Amsterdam nearly four years earlier.

"Man, I'd give anything to hear that show again," he continues.

This is where I almost snap. I want to tell him to go back to www.archive.org/details/ abird2005-04-09 if he wants to hear the show so badly. Because we both know that's where he heard it in the first place. Not live.

This guy is talking over imaginary Jeff Tweedy's singing to involve me in his charade of self- esteem building. I want it to end.

"Let's check something," I say, smiling as I lead him nowhere near the Andrew Bird section and straight to the Andrew W.K. section. I paw through the discs, looking in vain for a recording on which Andrew W.K. performed in Portland under the name Andrew Bird.

He snorts. This ingrown hair of a man snorts. He's not even going to call me out on my error. He knows he knows more than me now. This is all he came for. He can tell himself that this is why he buys all his music on iTunes. He's smarter than all of us. Nothing for him to learn here that he can't learn by consulting John Cusack's iTunes Celebrity Playlist and clicking "Buy All Songs." I mean, John played a record-store owner in a movie. So if John recommends fifteen tracks and two of them are by Gnarls Barkley, then it must be for a good reason. Right? Right.

"I'll take it from here," he says, shaking his head.

Good.

"Uh, OK?" I say, feigning bafﬂement. "Let me know if I can answer any more questions." This all feels so good. The hollowness of his swagger washes away all my annoyance. Stuff like this is what I'd miss if I quit. And Mali. I'd miss Mali, obviously.

She is finished with whatever trap she was setting for me in the New section. Unless someone else with a fake question intercepts me, I am about to be standing shoulder-to- shoulder with her in Used. She does the back-arching thing. I'm way too far away for a glimpse of tattoo. But still. Still.

I would pay to have someone competent take my picture right now. Because I sense that I have never looked happier. And I'd like to know what this feeling looks like. I'd like to hold a print of this moment in my hands when I'm very sad or very old.

Mali is doing something with her eyebrows. She is acting. It is bad acting. Bad, adorable acting designed to convey concentration. She is ﬂipping through discs in the catchall section where we indiscriminately file all bands that start with D.

She exhales loudly. Loudly and adorably. Crap, I am so not desireless.

"Hey, Hilliam," she says, looking up while still doing the frustrated, focused thing with her eyebrows.

I should explain that I was Willie before I started working here. Willie Hill. But Willy already worked here. So I couldn't be Willie at work. When I refused to be Billy or Will or Bill – Will Hill?! Bill Hill?!! – it was Evan who cracked himself and everyone else up by blending my given name and last name. Hilliam. I'd become Hilliam. And that's who I am. Here in Ballard, at least.

My parents hate it. Obviously. But they live in Wallingford. In Wallingford, I'm still Willie.

"Hey, Hilliam," she says, doing the eyebrow thing. "I've been wanting Something About Airplanes. For weeks. Does anybody ever bring that in used or do people just hang on to it?"

"We see it sometimes. In this town, there's always at least one person swearing off Ben Gibbard."

"For serious?"

"You'd be amazed."

"Oh."

"Last week. No, two weeks ago. Dude comes in. He's got an empty kitty litter bag that he's filled up with every Death Cab record, every Postal Service record. He's got All-Time Quarterback. And he's growling."

"Growling?"

"Well, words. But he's growling the words," I say and yell out "Travesty!"

Sam is closest. He yells "Travesty!"

Willy hears. He yells "Travesty!" He pauses, stomps his foot, and hollers "Unconscionable!"

"Unconscionable!" Sam yells.

"Unconscionable," I tell Mali.

"Is there more?" she asks. "I don't want to clap between movements."

"But you do want to clap, right?"

"I want to know what's unconscionable."

"And what's a travesty."

"Yes, a travesty, too."

"'Cupid.' The guy downloaded some unreleased solo tracks by Chris Walla. On one, Walla covered 'Cupid' by Sam Cooke."

"Travesty!" Mali says.

"You've heard it?"

"No," she says. "I'm just being cooperative."

"Right."

"Active listening."

"Right."

"Anyway …"

"Anyway," I say. "This guy hates Walla's 'Cupid' cover so much that he decides to sell everything ever touched by Walla or by people who touched Walla."

"So you've got his copy of Something About Airplanes?"

"Never at the end of the month."

"What?"

"We sold it almost right away."

"Oh."

"We'll get another."

"OK, well, can we do the thing again?"

"Of course. I'll call you if we get it in."

"Used."

"Right. I'll call you if we get it in. When we get it in."

"Used."

With everything but her arms, she moves to hug me. It's a kind of lurch. You can't hug without arms. So we don't hug.

"You're the best," she says instead.

I love that she knows what I'm about to do. I love that she set a trap. It hasn't occurred to me that she might find this whole thing creepy.

I mean, how can it be anything but endearing to discover that the guy at the record store perpetrates a lovelorn fraud every time you mention a CD you're hoping to find used? It will go like this: 1) Hilliam retrieves a new copy of the CD Mali wants; 2) Hilliam pays for this new CD in cash; 3) Hilliam removes the CD's clear wrapping; 4) Hilliam buys the CD back for the shop, screwing himself out of about ten bucks because the CD is now, technically, used; 5) Hilliam waits seventy-two hours before calling Mali to say that the CD she wanted has miraculously appeared.

Fifty-some hours later, she calls the shop.

"Hey," she says, sighing.

Just that. She's never called before.

"Mali?"

"Uh, yeah. Does that junkyard phone have caller ID?"

"I recognized your voice," I answer unstrategically.

"From me saying 'hey'?"

"You sighed, too."

"Shit," she says, laughing. "Am I the Sighing Girl of Ballard or something? Is this how everyone thinks of me?"

"Not that specific. Sighing Girl of Seattle is what people tend to say."

"Smartass! … Want to meet up for a cigarette break?"

"You smoke?" I blurt, glossing over this unprecedented non-retail-related overture and fixating on the seeming impossibility that a smoker could smell as nice as she does.

"No."

"Then why are we meeting for a cigarette break?"

"Don't you smoke?"

"Not since high school."

"Oh, I just figured all you guys did. The shop smells a little like my grandpa's overcoat."

"Noooooooooooooo," I say, as if this truth stings badly.

She laughs. But this moment is slipping away. I slap at my pockets. I detect packaging.

"Lemonheads!" I say.

"What?"

"I've got Lemonheads. We could do …"

I'm looking around to see if anyone is within earshot.

"Do what?" she asks.

"Sorry, we could do a Lemonhead break. Are you down?"

"Lemonheads? Hell yeah, I'm down," she says. "Meet me like halfway?"

"Halfway like skatepark halfway or like kitchen-store halfway?"

"Kitchen store," she says.

We hang up.

The little guitar riff that opens "Portions For Foxes" is chiming out of the shop's speakers.

This is a coded message. What we mean when we play this song or any of the ten other tracks on Rilo Kiley's 2004 release is that we knew the sound of Jenny Lewis singing long before a National Public Radio review of her solo album introduced her to the ears of every amiable Dockers-wearer within range of Terry Gross's voice.

I yell to Willy that I'm going on break. He looks quizzical. So I pantomime smoking a cigarette. His eyebrows rise, signaling comprehension, and he waves goodbye. I walk out, striding west on Market just as Jenny Lewis sings me a warning: "the talking leads to touching / and the touching leads to sex / and then there is no mystery left."

This is not what I want to hear as I walk to meet up with Mali, hoping that the talking will lead to touching and the touching will lead to sex. Not what I want to hear at all.

So, reﬂexively, I play a song in my brain. Not just any song. And not even a whole song. Just the opening lyrics to a song from Jenny's bandmates' side project: "Well she gets real mean when she's drunk. / And she finally fell asleep and I'm glad. / She said, 'The only way you got as far is you did / is 'cause of me. Your songs suck.' " I've always wondered if those lyrics are about Jenny. Now, for convenience, I've decided to decide that they are definitely about her. I willfully black out the second verse where the mean drunk – whoever she is -- recants and apologizes.

Heedless now, I walk past the shoe boutique that used to be a rubber-stamp store and the booming restaurant/bar that used to be a failed restaurant.

No song plays in my head now. A rare relief. I hear a Vespa start. I hear a clang. It's the type of clang made after a successful wallop of one of those smack-a-lever-with-a-hammer contraptions they erect in the feats-of-strength section of county fairs. This particular clang is synchronized with the Walk part of the mid-block Walk/Don’t Walk indicator. With its blessing, I now cross Market.

Continuing west, I pass the kids' boutique Mon Petit Shoe that used to be a friendly, long-in- the-tooth toy store, the yoga studio that used to be a Hallmark shop, the furniture store that used to be a competing record store, and the Puerto Rican restaurant that used to be an Australian restaurant that used to be the eastern part of the now-shrunken kitchen store.

Kitchen 'N Things is closed for the night. Mali has not noticed me yet. Her face is pressed against the store's front window, peering at something green.

I find myself wishing I were famous, wishing some paparazzi would leap from the shadows.

Though I'm not smiling, I sense that I look as happy as I feel. Again, I wish for a photograph that I could hold up and compare with every future joy. Is this pessimism, optimism, premonition? I stop my footsteps and watch Mali for a good fifteen seconds before calling out her name.

She does not turn to me right away. She peers a moment longer, seeming to say a kind of goodbye to whatever merchandise it is that she's coveting.

"Ah," she says, instead of greeting me. "I love Kitchen Uhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn Things."

I can't honestly tell if she's mocking the store's middle "'N" or cooing it like a loved one's nickname. I don't care. Either way, it strikes me as adorable. Anything she says drives me deeper in love.

"What were you leering at, lady?" I ask.

"Brushes. Silicone brushes."

"Don't you guys sell brushes?"

"Sure. Housewares. Aisle three. But not like these. Not silicone."

I don't know what to say. She goes on. Very earnestly.

"Plus, they're 100-percent recycled material. They're made from old fake boobs."

I nod without really registering what she's said.

"Are you serious?" I ask, regaining my common sense.

"Horribly serious," she says, giggling. "Dour. Humorless. Can't you tell?"

"Smartass," I say, reaching up and giving her left arm a gentle tap. "Let's get very, very serious here. How goeth your shift, fair maiden?"

"Goeth?"

"I don't know. I'm just making stuff up. How's your shift going?"

"Fine. The usual bizarreness. I just had two customers start bad-mouthing each other at the checkout. Freaks."

"What happened?"

"Well, we've got like two weeks left at the store before they tear it down to build the bigger, better store with the stacks of condos on top," she says, pausing to make some kind of crazy jazz hands that I take as a signal she finds the whole "bigger, better" thing to be bullshit. "Anyway, this woman pays for her stuff and starts chatting with me about where I'll be transferred during construction. Turns out, she knows my new store. I say that I've heard everyone's mean to each other there. She tells me, in this well-meaning-slash-excruciating detail, everything she knows about the nice people who work there. She also gives me advice. Career advice. Life advice.

Meanwhile, I'm ringing up some semi-older dude with a twelve-pack of Bud. The first woman does not stop talking. The dude keeps glancing back and forth between me and the woman.

Mostly, looking at me, though. Finally he leans in toward me and says, 'I think she likes you.' I pretend not to hear. Because like what, what am I supposed to do? Join in? Give him a little giggle? Help him slam this lonely, sweet woman who is so intent on being nice to me that she will not leave me the hell alone while I try to do my job? No. No. I won't. So I ignore him.

"And that should be the end of it. But as he walks past the woman with his beer, he says, 'Why don't you just leave her alone? She's not interested.' Now, the sweet woman stops being sweet. It's go time, man. She's like, 'Why don't you back off? Go home and drink your Budweiser and mind your own damn business.' "But she gathers up her plastic bags and heads for the door, where they go off on each other a little more. I manage to tune that part out. But now I've got the rest of the line to deal with.

The next guy is this mumbler. So, you know, he mumbles something. I say, 'What?' He says, 'I feel so low-maintenance all of a sudden' and glances over at Advice Lady and Budweiser Prick.

And, of course, he's low-maintenance by comparison. And that would have been totally great if he hadn't felt the need to point it out. Still, I say, 'You are low-maintenance and I appreciate that.' Luckily, he doesn't stick around to chat. He just takes his strawberries and his Odwalla and gets out of my life."

I tell Mali, "Oh my god. You're way too nice. I don't know how you can deal with people like that."

I say this. But it's not what I mean. I mean something more. I have a whole theory about this.

The theory goes like this: In all the world of retail, the most exhausting thing a woman can be is sexy and nice. Nobody girl-chats with mean and sexy. Nobody ﬂirts with plain and nice. And pretty much every kind of customer just wants to ﬂee from mean and plain. But sexy and nice? You get everybody. You get everybody who wants to see you naked. You get everybody who wants a friend. It is endless. And retail is already endless.

But I don't say any of this. Because what makes me any less weird than Mali's customers if I use her crappy-shift story as a clumsy excuse for telling her I think she's sexy? Better to impersonate a friend right now. Better to save telling her she's sexy for some dizzy, panting, half-dressed moment in our hypothetical shared future.

What words should pass through my lips if I manage to wipe away this smile? I simply don't know.

"You make me smile," I finally say since it is true.

"That's just because I'm too nice," she teases.

"No, it's in spite of that. Nice people make me frown. Every last one of them."

"Until now?"

"Until now."

"You're so full of shit."

I smile yet wider. She smiles, too.

This continues. Continues for longer than I want to document here, for longer than anyone would want to read. I remember every word, every gesture, every crumbly nibble of the cupcake we share down the street, every last expansion of my smile.

****

The film was trickier than the battery. My hands and the film and the inner workings of my neglected Canon needed to collaborate. They did, eventually. I thumb-ﬂicked the lever to advance the film. I clicked the shutter release. Thumb-ﬂick. Click. Thumb-ﬂick. Click. Thumb- ﬂick. I was ready.

The 16 I boarded is a southbound bus. But first it goes west. It drives along 45th until it reaches Stone Way. This is one of the vivid intersections of my acne years. Here stood the closest McDonald's to my house. It had a drive-thru. Very convenient. I knew people who went there.

But I disliked all of them. My loose confederation of friends always made the walk – and later the drive – east to Dick's drive in, where we could dine without the nuisance of chairs, tables, or even walls.

For reasons that seem, well, petty to me now, each of us would raise a middle finger whenever we passed that McDonald's at Stone and 45th. So the teenage me would have certainly ﬂipped me off as the 16 turned left on Stone and I found myself missing the McDonald's and resenting the condos that had risen in its place.

The 16 goes south on Stone and jogs diagonally to the southwest before merging its way onto the Aurora Bridge. In some unremembered year when I was not yet a grownup and, therefore, still impressionable, a bus like this one fell from this towering bridge. A guy named Silas Cool shot the driver and then himself. I've harbored a gut-level uneasiness about this bridge and about people named Silas ever since. The closer I get to my own natural death the more it shames me that I don't remember the names of the murdered driver or the one passenger who died in the fifty-foot plunge.

This forgetting didn't trouble me at all that day on the 16. The uneasiness eclipsed all other thoughts. What power we all held. How powerless we all were. Any of us could pull a pistol and, for reasons known only to ourselves, change – or even end – the lives of dozens of strangers. There would be no stopping it. So I averted my eyes from the driver and from all the possible catalysts of my death.

I stared out the window toward the shrouded Cascades and twisted a ring on my AE-1's lens, compulsively changing the size of hole that light would pass through if I took a picture.

And so it is that my first shot that day was radically overexposed. The resulting photo – of the front end of a climbing seaplane that seems to just barely clear the bridge's railing – is more striking, more beautiful that anything I would have shot on purpose. I wouldn't know this until I got the film developed. Even then, I would need to shoot five more rolls before understanding the error that gave me this treasured image. It would take another dozen rolls before I could replicate the effect more or less at will.

I shot nothing when we passed the Space Needle. I shot nothing downtown when I got off to transfer to a 174. Nothing as we passed the home of the Mariners, the Seahawks.

I traveled with the camera pressed to my eye as we neared Boeing Field. But the overcast sky had suddenly switched from being a veil filtering the sun to being a shroud. This mid- morning dusk made the camera useless. Even using the widest opening in the lens, I would have had to expose the film to light for one-eighth of a second. Such a small sliver of a second is actually a long time in the world of photography. It is a fatally long amount of time when you're shooting from a moving vehicle. Unless you happen to know enough to pan the camera and keep the lens pointed toward whatever passing object you're shooting. That's when things can get interesting. Spectacularly interesting. But, as you may sense already, the only spectacularly interesting photographs I could make at this point were accidental.

So I'd only shot that lone photo from the bridge by the time the bus pulled over on East Marginal Way long enough for me to get off at my stop. This put me in the city of Tukwila, essentially across the street from the Museum of Flight. I intended to throw down the $14 to go inside. It was my whole reason for riding the bus this far. But I got detoured. In all my family and field-trip visits to this place, I'd never noticed that the outdoor airplane display was plainly visible – even to deadbeats standing outside the fence, especially to deadbeats with long lenses on their cameras. Turning my back to the wind, I removed my normal lens and replaced it with a zoom lens that allowed me to get closer to the airplanes without getting closer to the airplanes.

****

We are at Besalu. Mali and me. She got the table. I got the coffee and pastries. It's not busy. A rarity. And this is a relief. Because I didn't have to stress that we might have radically different approaches to getting a table in an overstuffed café. I'm of the laughably civil school of table- getting: literally, ask every person ahead of you in line if they need a table before taking one.

Mali might believe in the more standard, snake-a-table-as-soon-as-you-see-one-and-screw- everybody-else approach. If so, I am not ready to know this. I'd be willing to tolerate it. But unlike so much else, it's not the sort of thing I could manage to see as an adorable quirk.

"Oh, they look so good," Mali says, reaching for the plate of pastries that I'm just about to set down.

"You've seriously never been here?" I ask.

"No, this is my first time above 58th Street."

"Wow."

"Don't you ever have that? Streets you just don't cross? Whole parts of neighborhoods you don't bother to explore?"

I think about this. She talks.

"You think I'm lame," she says.

"No. Not at all. I was just thinking about what you said."

She nods.

"When I was growing up in Wallingford, there was this McDonald's …"

She is nodding furiously. I realize what's going on.

"Please, go ahead and start eating," I say. "You don't have to wait until I get done talking."

She smiles. Not at me. At her ginger biscuit. She takes a bite. She stops chewing, stops moving – the way you might if you were about to spit out something unexpectedly rancid. She closes her eyes. She swoons. Literally swoons.

"Amazing, isn't it?" I say.

She resumes chewing, swallows, reopens her eyes.

"Oh my god," she whispers, slapping the table with both palms and making Jurassic Park ripples in our coffees. "I could have kept that bite in my mouth for the rest of my life."

"Amazing, huh?" I say, realizing as the words leave my mouth that this is essentially the same thing I said less than a minute ago.

"Uh, yeah," she says.

She swivels, looks back toward the kitchen.

"Does he make these right here?" she asks, jerking her head toward a dark-haired man who's loading some kind of dough onto both sides of an ancient-looking scale. With a big knife, he slices a hunk from the left pile of dough and drops it on the right pile. The scale falls into balance.

"Yeah, him and two other people. But it's his place," I say.

"Would it be inappropriate to run into the kitchen and hug him?"

"Probably," I say, laughing hard until I start to wonder whether the little artistic venture I'm about to unveil would stand a better chance of shining in some other café, some place without its own resident culinary master.

I'd planned on offering Mali a taste of my croissant at this point. But that would be an impossible act to follow. I push myself. If I just say the words, I'll have to go ahead and do it.

"Hey, let me show you something I've been wanting to show you," I say, sliding a Ballard Camera envelope from the pocket of my jacket.

There are three more envelopes just like this one on my bed at home. They are thicker envelopes. This thinner one holds what I consider to be the eight presentable images from my four rolls.

"Come on. What is it?" she coaxes, noticing the hesitation I thought I'd managed to hide.

I've given a lot of thought to what comes next. Just hand her the envelope? No, seems almost apologetic. Hand her the images one at a time? Too controlling. Instead, I've decided to lay the images out. Three columns of two, topped by the remaining two photos. Why? Don't know. But this is what I've decided.

I put down the first two pictures. A smile – so full, so deep, so reassuring – takes over Mali's face. It animates me. I lay out the six remaining photos with the ﬂourish of an overcompensating tarot reader. My chair is now meaningless. I am an idiot marionette, dangling, waiting for her reaction.

She's deliberate. Each image gets a long, careful look. I become aware that I'm sweating. I breathe fast. Then faster.

Please. Say. Something.

"Did you download these?"

"No," I say a bit too enthusiastically. "I took these."

"Who did you take them from?" she says, holding a hand to her aghast mouth.

She is messing with me. She knows what I meant. I know she is messing with me. I know she knows what I meant. But I am so keyed up that I start to defend myself.

"IdidnttakethemfromanybodyI," I blurt.

She lowers the hand from her mouth. It has been hiding a smile, that same smile. I breathe again. I am ready.

"I took these," I say. "With my camera."

She stares at me.

"You've never told me you were a photographer."

"I'm not."

And I take a deep breath because I'm about to ﬂay myself.

"There's something about you, Mali. You just make me want to make things."

She squints at me.

"To create things, you know. For once. Instead of just talking shit, you know."

She squints tighter. The eyes close now. But a tear leaks from each eye.

Her left hand slides across the tabletop. I put my hand on top of it. We stay that way. While I'm not totally sure what has just happened, I know that it is powerful, and I sense that it is powerfully good.

****

Arranged in the same pattern but in a different order, the photos are now Scotch-taped to the wall next to Mali's futon. I wake to find her looking at them.

"I have a new favorite," she says.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, this one," she says, jerking her head in the direction of all of the photos.

She can't point. Her arms are around me, encircling my left shoulder, my neck, my right armpit. We went to sleep this way. I can't decide what would mean more to me: us having held this position all night or Mali having chosen to recreate it as soon as she woke up. This is another one of those endearing-either-way choices.

"I'm sorry, Armless Lady," I say, straining to kiss her neck. "I'm having trouble seeing where you're pointing. You're going to have to describe your new favorite photo."

I am expecting it to be that first photo I took, the one of the seaplane cresting the Aurora Bridge on its takeoff from Lake Union. Its accidental overexposure makes it unique among these eight photos. Also, I'm disinclined to admire any photo that I made on purpose. I still feel incompetent. Incompetent but strangely helpless to resist the urge to keep creating. So my camera is here by the bed. There's a new roll of film in it. The camera has a self-timer. I could set it on Mali's bookcase and photograph us right now.

I don't.

I didn't.

I never did.

She releases her hold on me and slides her left hand down my chest. She retrieves my right hand, brings it to her mouth, and kisses it before delicately folding everything but my index finger in toward my palm. She guides my hand until my index finger is pointing squarely at the blurriest photo of the bunch. Shot from below and slightly off to the right, it shows the nose and two cockpit windows of a commercial jet.

"Really?!" I marvel.

"Yeah. It reminds me of a clown's face."

"Hmmm," I say and then stare at it until the plane's nose becomes a clown nose and the two windows of the cockpit become the clown's eyes. "OK. Yeah. Clown face. Got it."

We're quiet until I say, "It's funny. You can't see it in black and white, obviously. But the part that looks like a clown nose was painted a total clown-nose red.

"I believe it," she says.

Her arms are back around me.

"I have to say, I'm surprised that's your favorite. You seriously like it more than the really similar one that's in better focus?"

"Seriously. That one looks like a plane – not a clown."

"Didn't realize you have such a thing for clowns."

She laughs, gives me this tender headbutt. I expect banter along the lines of "Well, I'm lying in bed with a clown." But she must not want banter. So I retrace our conversational steps.

"I'm trying to figure out what it means that I set out to take pictures of airplanes and your favorite airplane picture makes you think of a clown."

"Don't think about it too much," she says. "The clown thing is just a tiny part of it. I'd like it without the clown thing. What I like most is that the picture looks like a mistake."

"You like it because it looks like a mistake?"

"I like it because it looks like a mistake. But mostly I like it because I don't think it's really a mistake. Of all of these, it's the one that looks most like you were pushing yourself, reaching for something. And I guess only you know if you actually reached what you were reaching for. But whatever. I like that you trusted me to look at it. I like that you trusted me to see past the blurriness."

"I almost didn't show you that one."

"And maybe that's what I mean. This is the one that stopped you. This is the one where you needed to decide what this was all about, whether you were going to show me some ﬂawless, boring-ass pictures or whether you were going to show me you."

"What's weird to me," I say slowly, "is that I'm showing you a me that didn't exist a week ago."

"Well then maybe what you're showing me is us."

It is a ﬂat, detached, factual statement. I try to catch my breath.

I can't.

I couldn't.

I never could.

#fiction

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dimensiontripperhibiki · 7 years

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A Heavy Heart (7/?)

Here’s the next chapter of ‘A Heavy Heart’. Hope you guys enjoy!

“Are you sure this is okay?” Nozomi asked nervously as she plodded along after Kanan. The tank on her back was distractingly heavy but Kanan didn’t seem to be having a problem with hers. “It’s fine, this part of the aquarium is closed off for now. Temporarily.” Kanan said as she turned to Nozomi. Nozomi had to admit that Kanan looked cute with her goggles resting atop her head and her snorkel hanging around her neck. “And it’s definitely safe, right?” Kanan laughed at the question and stepped closer to Nozomi, gently grasping her shoulders to turn her around. She checked her gear once more to be safe and made sure the bun, which she’d helped Nozomi tie her hair up into earlier was secure. “I’m not taking you into a tank of sharks, Nozomi. Relax.” “Sharks?” Nozomi squeaked, slightly alarmed.

“God, you’re cute.” Kanan let Nozomi turn back around. “No sharks. Dolphins. That’s a lot better, right?”

“I guess. As long as they don’t bite.” Nozomi said uncertainly, drawing another laugh from Kanan. “I’ll protect you.” Kanan teased. “You’ll need to put your goggles on before we get into the water. And then take a breath before we go under and put the snorkel in your mouth, alright?” “Alright.” Nozomi echoed as Kanan led her to the side of the tank. She watched Kanan put her goggles on and fumbled to do the same. When Kanan put took a deep breath and put the snorkel between her lips, Nozomi did the same. Kanan seemed like she knew what she was doing so Nozomi figured it was best to follow along. She flinched slightly when she felt a hand grab her own but it was just Kanan, lacing their fingers together. She looked up, finding Kanan counting down on her fingers. 3…2...1. Understanding what that meant Nozomi jumped forward at the same time as Kanan, albeit not as gracefully. She panicked for a brief moment as she was submerged in the water but Kanan was still there, still holding onto her hand. Nozomi felt a hand touch her shoulder and found Kanan in front of her. The girl gestured to her snorkel, a somewhat questioning look on her face. Nozomi gave a thumbs up to let Kanan know she was fine and then the girl was pulling her forward, turning her own body so that she could swim but she didn’t let go of Nozomi’s hand. Nozomi was glad of that at least. She swam along with Kanan, glancing around the tank she was in. It was dimly lit but it was beautiful underwater. Like she and Kanan were in their own world, separate from the world outside. Kanan drew to a stop suddenly, stopping Nozomi with them due to their joined hand. She pointed ahead and Nozomi followed her finger, her eyes widening when she saw something swimming through the water. She felt Kanan give a gentle squeeze to her hand and then they were move again, slower this time toward the animal in the water. She was surprised when Kanan stopped again and turned to her. When Kanan reached up, taking her snorkel off, Nozomi startled in alarm and almost reached out to force it right back to Kanan’s mouth. Kanan was smiling though and she allowed herself to relax as the girl carefully took her snorkel away too. Kanan leaned in and tilted her head a bit more than she usually would to avoid Nozomi’s goggles before she kissed her firmly, letting go of her hand in favour of wrapping her arms around her waist instead. She felt Nozomi kiss her back, her hands grasping at her shoulders for balance. Pulling away, Kanan took Nozomi’s hand again and guided her back to the surface. They emerged from the water, gasping for air and Kanan grinned over at Nozomi. “So what do you think?” “I think your technique needs work but overall you’re not a bad kisser.” Nozomi teased, earning herself a splash from Kanan. “I’m kidding! It was amazing. Thank you, Kanacchi.” Kanan smiled warmly at the response and moved closer, her arms going around Nozomi once more. “Are you cold?” “A little.” Nozomi said honestly as she carefully pressed closer to Kanan. She kissed her once more, her lips lingering this time. “Maybe we could get some hot cocoa?” “I would love to.” Kanan replied, unable to wipe the smile from her face. “Though I was thinking we could stop by the shark tank fir-” She was cut off as Nozomi lightly shoved her. She swam backwards, giggling loudly. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” “You’re lucky you’re so cute.” Nozomi said with a roll of her eyes. ---- “Kanan-chan. Kanan-chan!” “Huh?” Kanan jerked to attention as a hand was waved in front of her face. She blinked rapidly, finding Chika standing in front of her. “Oh, sorry. What’s wrong?” “You seemed spaced out.” Chika said in concern. “Is everything okay?” “Oh. Yeah, I was just thinking.” Kanan said, her gaze shifting back to Nozomi and Mari who were standing in the kitchen. She didn’t know what they were talking about but they seemed to be getting along just fine. Maybe too well. She could only imagine the mischief those two could cause given the right situation. She quickly turned her attention back to Chika. “Sorry, what is it?” “I was just asking if you think Honoka-san is going to be here.” Chika said, clearly trying to sound calmer than she felt. “Or Maki-san.” Riko piped up from Chika’s side. “Um...I don’t think Honoka will be.” Kanan answered uncertainly. Honoka didn’t often drop by Eli and Nozomi’s apartment. “Maki might though. If she comes back with Eli. She actually lives next door.” “REALLY?!” “Whoa there, Chika-chan!” You caught Chika around the waist as she bound toward the door. “How about we stay in one apartment, hmm?” She sighed and looked around, finding Mari in the kitchen still. “Um...where’s Dia-san?” “Shit, she’s probably…” Kanan looked over at Eli’s bedroom door, finding it open. “Dia, get the hell out of Eli’s room!” Dia appeared in the doorway a moment later, a disgruntled look on her face. “I wasn’t doing anything.” “Yeah, right…” Kanan muttered. She looked back to Mari and Nozomi in the kitchen and felt her face flush when Mari laughed at something and pointed toward her. She noticed immediately when Nozomi’s eyes flicked toward her chest. “MARI, STOP TALKING ABOUT MY BOOBS!” “What?! But they’re AMAZING!” Mari called back. “I SWEAR I WILL SUE YOU!” “I have money to win.” Mari countered loudly. “Besides, I’m just telling her all the sweet spots. You should be grateful!” “MARI!” Kanan felt her head begin to throb. Already she regretted asking Nozomi if it was okay to invite her friends along. She looked up as the door to the apartment opened and Maki stepped inside. “Kanan, are you okay? I heard…um…” Maki froze where she was, looking around at everyone in the apartment. “Who the hell are you guys?” “Maki-chan, no cursing!” Nozomi exclaimed. “Bite me, Nozomi.” “Oh my god, it’s MAKI-SAN!” Kanan’s eyes widened as Chika bound over to Maki. “Ah Chika, be careful. She’s…” “What the hell, get away from me!” Maki exclaimed, dodging out of Chika’s path. “Socially awkward.” Kanan finished with a sigh. “Oh wow, she’s like a cat!” Mari exclaimed loudly as she wandered closer to Kanan. “Just like Dia.” Dia glared at her in annoyance. “I am not, Mari-san. Beha...ELI-SENPAI!” “Ehhh?” “Whoa, stop!” Maki stepped in front of Eli to keep Dia from tackling the blonde. She gave the girl a light push back, causing Dia to scowl at her. “Stay back.” “Um…” Eli looked around the apartment. “What’s going on, Nozomi?” “Kanacchi’s high school friends were in they city so she invited them over. I said it was fine.” Nozomi answered with a shrug. “I tried to warn her they’re fangirls.” Kanan said quickly. “But Nozomi insisted.” “Great.” Maki muttered sarcastically as she fumbled behind her for Eli’s hand. She ended up gently grasping her wrist instead and tugged her away from Dia, further into the apartment. “Maki-san is different to how she is on TV.” Chika whispered to Kanan. Kanan nodded and responded, keeping her voice low. “The real Maki is socially awkward and still believes in Santa Claus. She can be kind of...bratty too.” “It’s kinda cute.” Chika mused with a small smile. “Chika, no flirting.” Kanan ordered quickly. She could only imagine that being disastrous. “I won’t, besides I don’t want to scare her. She’s just kind of cute with Eli-san though.” Chika glanced at Riko who was frowning at her. “A-And I have a girlfriend! W-Why would I flirt with anyone? Hehe…” “Smooth.” Riko muttered with a roll of her eyes. Nevertheless she didn’t resist when Chika put her arm around her waist and drew her close. Eli couldn’t help but smile at Maki’s refusal to move from in front of her. They settled near the kitchen and as they took in what was happening Eli leaned back into Maki. Maki stood firm, her hand going to Eli’s hip as the blonde leaned her head back against her shoulder. “You okay?” Eli asked softly. “Maki-san is so tall.” You marvelled in wonder. “She’s taller than Eli-san.” “I’m fine, I just don’t like people being all over...me.” Maki said hesitantly. She knew that wasn’t what she was annoyed about, nor was it the reason she was still glaring daggers at Dia. “Maybe we should go back to my apartment.” “Um…” Eli hesitantly glanced toward Kanan, grimacing slightly. “I want to. But I feel like I should make an effort with Kanan’s friends. I mean she’s my roommate and I want to be her friend so...I should make an effort, right?” “I…” Maki was about to disagree but Eli tilted her head back against her shoulder so she could look into her eyes and Maki found herself unable to. “Sure. I guess. Do you want me to hang around?” Eli nodded quickly. “We’ll go to your apartment after.” Maki flashed a small smile at that. At least when she got through the impromptu gathering she would get to spend the rest of the evening with Eli. She looked down, fighting a blush when she noticed Eli’s blue bra strap. It seemed the white blouse Eli was wearing was looser than Maki had first though. “I-I need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” “Huh?” Eli stumbled back slightly when Maki walked away, effectively taking away her support. She frowned as she watched Maki hurry off to the bathroom. Figuring she should talk to Nozomi, she glanced around but found her best friend busy talking to Kanan, Mari and the others. “Uh...hi.” Eli looked forward again, finding the dark haired girl from before standing in front of her. “Hi…?” “Dia. Kurosawa Dia.” Dia filled in with a small smile as she shifted from foot to foot. “I’m sorry about earlier, it’s just...you’re my idol. Um...I’ve always looked up to you a-and…” Eli smiled as Dia trailed off, blushing. She had to admit the girl was cute, in a way. She got the impression that Dia wasn’t usually the type to act so bashful around people. “I-I have a favor to ask you!” Dia exclaimed quickly before Eli could say anything. “It’s going to sound a little strange.” “What is it?” Eli asked warily, raising an eyebrow. “Um...w-well I was wondering...can I kiss you?!” Dia’s loud exclamation had Eli’s eyes widening and You who was on her way to get a drink from the fridge froze in place. “”Please? I-I don’t want to take your first kiss but um…” “I already had my first kiss.” Eli said automatically. Dia brightened at the comment. “So it’s okay then, right? I don’t mind giving you mine.” “Uh….” Eli grimaced at the thought of that. “Don’t you want your first kiss to be with someone...important to you? I mean...someone you actually know?” “It will!” Dia exclaimed brightly. “A-And I feel like I know you. Please, Eli-senpai?” “Ah, I-I guess it’s fine then.” Eli said, realizing Dia wasn’t going to take no for an answer. At least without a lot more argument. She closed her eyes in preparation and a few seconds later, warm lips pressed against hers. It was soft and not at all bad but she didn’t feel anything like she felt when Maki kissed her. Maki walked out of the bathroom, freezing in place when she noticed Dia kissing Eli, the blonde pressed against the counter behind her. White hot anger coursed through her and she growled under her breath as she started over to the two of them. You, who had seen Maki coming and noticed the look on her face, tried to step in the way but Maki pushed her lightly aside. “Ugh, Kanan is gonna kill me…” Maki grabbed the back of Dia shirt and pulled her away from Eli. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Dia frowned, finding herself face to face with an angry redhead. “What? She said it was okay!” “You…” Maki turned to Eli and gritted her teeth. She grabbed Eli’s hand and pulled her quickly toward the door and out of the apartment. “Dia.” Kanan sighed, rubbing her temples. “Seriously?! I told you not to do this!” Dia shrugged her shoulders though she did look a bit sheepish at her own behavior. “You can’t blame her, Kanan.” Mari piped up with a shrug of her shoulders. “You know Dia doesn’t get romantic cues as well as most people.” “Huh?” Dia frowned. “Maki likes Eli.” Dia’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh no…” She put her hand to her mouth, her eyes prickling with tears of shame. “I just destroyed a relationship.” “It’s not that bad.” Mari quickly went to Dia’s side to comfort her but the brunette was beside herself. Sighing, Mari shared an unusually serious look with Kanan. “Where’s your bedroom?” “Uh...over there.” Kanan pointed to her bedroom and watched as Mari guided Dia into the room, shutting the door behind them. She turned to Nozomi, a guilty look on her face. “Sorry, Nozomi. I told you this was a bad idea.” “Don’t worry.” Nozomi answered with an easy smile. She stepped closer to Kanan, subtly taking her hand. “It’ll be fine.” ----

As the apartment door slammed shut behind them, Eli drew her hand away from Maki’s and backed up a bit, putting some space between them. “She kissed me. I didn’t kiss her back, I swear. That girl is just stubb-” Eli paused at the angry look on Maki’s face. “Why do you care who I kiss anyway?” “I don’t KNOW!” Maki exclaimed loudly, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “All I know is that I don’t like her touching you. At all. I don’t like her kissing you or her hands on you or...argh!” Eli stumbled back a step as Maki stormed toward her, pushing her onto the couch. It didn’t hurt but it took her by surprise when Maki landed on top of her. “M-Maki, come on…” Maki stared down at Eli’s swollen lips, annoyance pulsing through her veins. That girl should never have gotten to kiss Eli. “Damn it…” “Maki, you’re scaring me.” Eli whispered when Maki didn’t answer her. She didn’t know what was wrong with the redhead but she looked nothing short of wild. Out of control. Her hair was a mess from her sweeping her fingers through it and her eyes burned with something Eli didn’t recognize. “I’m sorry.” Maki said, her grip on Eli’s hands lessening. “I’m just so confused. And frustrated. Seeing her kiss you, I just want...I just want to…” “Y-You’re not drunk.” Eli stuttered, her eyes wide with surprise. “But you’re saying you want to...kiss me?” “More than that.” Maki admitted quietly, her cheeks warming at the admission. “Lately I’ve been...craving you. Your warmth, your body. Lately it seems like cuddling isn’t even enough. B-But I don’t want to ask you to do this without you wanting it too. I don’t want anyone else touching you like that. I want to be the only one.” “Maki.” Eli swallowed thickly and nervously licked her lips. She wanted to say yes but everything Maki had said made it seem like she just wanted her for sex. “You know I’m...a virgin, right?” “Of course I do.” Maki said quickly, her eyes widening. “That’s why I don't want to force you into anything or...just stay friends. Ugh I suck at this.” "You really do suck at relationships.” Eli said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I KNOW that!” Maki exclaimed sheepishly. "I-I know I'm being a possessive brat but I just, I-I I just don't think your first kiss or...that should be from a random girl. A crazy fan no less. It should be with someone you trust. Someone you like...are friends with or in love with or…I-I'm just gonna shut up now.” Eli couldn’t help but giggle at Maki’s awkwardness. Maki blushed. "S-Stop laughing at me!" "But it’s cute.”

"I'm not cute!" Maki retorted. “This is serious, Eli!” Eli raised an eyebrow. “Well you’re not making it serious.” Maki gently grabbed Eli’s cheek between her thumb and forefinger and Eli felt her breath hitch as the redhead leaned down. Maki’s breath didn’t smell like alcohol. It smelt like coffee, overshadowed by mint. “Eli, look at me.” Maki said softly, her tone deadly serious. “I’m serious. I want to sleep with you.” “Sleep with me.” Eli echoed. Maki felt her heart race before she realized that wasn’t an invitation. In fact the blonde sounded disappointed. Hurt almost. “I knew it. I’m going too far. I’m just so comfortable around you but at the same time...you make my heart skip a beat. I was just thinking...maybe if I kiss you I would know the answer. Why my body...and my heart is craving you.” Eli briefly looked away from Maki. The look in the girl’s eyes was soft and sincere. “Alright. Kiss me then.” Maki felt a surge of disappointment. “Eli. Look at me. Please? If I’m going to kiss you I want to look into your eyes first.” Eli took a deep breath and finally looked back toward Maki. “Do you feel the same?” Maki asked, brushing her fingers against Eli’s cheek. “Do you want this?” Eli’s chest swelled with the need to tell Maki that she did want it. She had since high school. She’d loved her since high school. But it seemed like Maki wanted her for sex and that was all. “I want you to be happy. And if you want to kiss me, that’s what you should d-” “No, i-it’s fine. I didn’t want it to…” Maki was cut off as Eli leaned up, pressing their lips together without warning. Her eyes slid shut as she instinctively leaned into it, her hand going to the back of Eli’s neck. Eli’s lips were just as soft and warm as she had imagined. And they only left Maki wanting more. As Eli leaned back, Maki went with her, deepening the kiss as she did so. For the most part, Eli was still, letting Maki take the lead but Maki could feel hands gripping desperately at her shirt. Worried, she drew away. “Eli?” Eli took a shuddering breath. “So what you think?” “Um...I-I liked it. It was...nice, I-I don’t know.” Maki took Eli’s hand and gently led it to her chest, pressing it over her heart. “Do you feel that? It’s for you. Only for you. I’ve never had this reaction to kissing anyone else.” Eli clenched her jaw, feeling Maki’s heart pound against her chest. As much as she wanted to believe it was real, she couldn’t imagine Maki wanting her. She’d managed to convince herself that Maki never would and eventually she’d have to move on. She drew her hand away from Maki’s, letting it fall to the couch at her side. “You believe me, don’t you?” Maki asked softly, her voice small. “You don’t seriously think I would lie to you about something like this.” “I-I can’t give you what you want, Maki.” Eli forced out through the lump in her throat. She was already in over her head with Maki. If she slept with her she could only imagine her feelings growing more intense. “I can’t sleep with you. I’m sorry.” “Oh.” “It’s not what you think.” Eli said hastily. “I don’t want you to think I don’t like you. Listen, I’m…” She gave a shaky laugh, her eyes prickling with tears. She was going to say it. She had to. “I love you. I’ve been in love with you since high school.” Maki inhaled sharply, her eyes widening. Nobody had ever said that to her before. “It killed me to watch you with her, you know?” Eli said shakily. “Knowing that if you’d seen me, I could have been better for you. I know I could have. I would never have hurt you like she does. S-So that’s why I can’t sleep with you. I’m trying to be okay with you as just my friend but if we do anything, you’ll just end up breaking my heart.” “W-Wait Eli, I….” “I need to go, I’m sorry.” Eli slipped out from under Maki and quickly left the apartment. Maki watched her go before she sank back, grasping her aching chest. She didn’t know what to say. Nobody had ever confessed to her like that before and she could tell that Eli was hurting. She didn’t want to make it even worse for her. She buried her head in her hands as tears slipped free from her eyes and wondered whether she was really falling for her best friend. It certainly felt that way. ----- “Come in.” Kotori called upon hearing a knock at her door. When it opened and Honoka slipped inside, Kotori flashed her a warm smile. “Hey. You ready?” Honoka nodded, adjusting the silk bathrobe she was wearing. Kotori noticed that her hair was dry but she didn’t seem to be wearing anything under the robe, suggesting she must have gotten out of the shower not too long ago. “Where does Umi-chan think you are?” She asked as she went to rifle through her closet in search of what she had made for Honoka the previous day. “I told her you were helping me get changed for our date!” Honoka said brightly as she made her way over to Kotori. “That’s what you’re doing, right?” Kotori chuckled under her breath. “Yeah. I didn’t think you’d just tell her that though. I thought this was meant to be a surprise. Here, put this on.” “It is but it’s normal to get my best friend to…” Honoka trailed off as she looked into the bag. “What is this?” “Lingerie.” Kotori said with a roll of her eyes. She turned Honoka by her shoulders and pushed her gently into the walk in closet. “You want to seduce her, right? Bring the excitement back? Hurry up and put it on so I can adjust it for you.” Honoka grumbled as she walked into the closet. She glanced out at Kotori who had turned her back before she sighed and took off her robe to dress. “So where are you going?” Kotori called over her shoulder as she waited. “Did you ask her out or is she taking you?” “Ah, I’m...taking her out to dinner.” Honoka answered as she fumbled with the lingerie Kotori had instructed her to put on. “I had to make a reservation a week ago.” “You’re going all out then. Do I want to know where you got the money for this?” Kotori asked. Honoka’s sheepish laugh was all the answer she really needed. “Are you almost done?” “Yeah, I’m done. I think.” Kotori turned as Honoka emerged from the closet. She’d been trying to prepare herself for the sight but her eyes still widened. “I-It looks good. I think I need to adjust it a bit though. Um...wait a second.” Kotori turned and went to get some bobby pins, her face flushed red. She picked up her sewing needles and some stitches too before she made her way back to Honoka. “How does it feel? Is it tight anywhere?” “N-No, it’s actually a bit loose. The panties are, I mean.” Honoka said sheepishly. “I need them hugging me, right?” Kotori frowned as she knelt down at Honoka’s side, placing her things carefully on the ground. “I used the last sizes you gave me too. You must have lost weight since.” “Uh...I haven’t really been in an eating mood.” Honoka said sheepishly. “I guess being stalked isn’t good for your appetite.” Kotori sighed at Honoka’s attempt to joke. “You need to eat, Honoka-chan. Or you’ll get sick. You’re too thin already.” She looked up at Honoka’s washboard stomach, her face warming again. Umi must have noticed how fit Honoka was. She would be an idiot not to. Clearing her throat, Kotori looked down at the floor. “Is it okay if I go ahead?” “Sure. You don’t have to ask my permission, Kotori-chan.” Kotori exhaled slowly, trying to fight back the old feelings that welled up once more. “Alright…” She got to work, noticing as she leaned closer that Honoka’s skin smelled like cocoa butter and something else. Coconut maybe, she thought. Honoka was silent for a few minutes, letting Kotori work. Looking down, she giggled at the sight of Kotori with bobby pins between her lips, her expression intently focused. “You look cute when you work.” “Mmm?” Kotori looked up, noticing Honoka grinning at her. “You always look so serious when you concentrate.” Honoka reached down, brushing a finger over Kotori’s furrowed brow. “It’s cute, that’s all.” Unable to answer, Kotori shook her head and went back to what she was doing. After a couple of minutes, she finally spoke. “So how’s that?” “Better. Thanks.” Honoka smiled as Kotori got to her feet. “Um...I think everything else is fine too.” “Good.” Kotori said, her eyes drifting to Honoka’s breasts, perfectly pushed up and framed by a black lace bra with red trimmings. “You look good.” “Good? I’m meant to look hot.” Honoka pouted, looking down at herself. “You don’t think it’s too much, do you?” “No, it’s perfect. If Umi doesn’t want to jump you when she sees you in this she’s crazy.” Kotori teased, trying to draw her attention back to Honoka’s face. “You do. Look hot.” Honoka blushed at the praise. “Hey, you did get me a dress too, right? I swear I’ll pay you ba-” “Honoka.” Kotori laughed at the assumption. “I didn’t get you anything. I made you a dress. I know what you look good in, remember? But um...I just need to adjust this again. Especially the chest. Is that okay?” “You don’t have to ask.” Honoka said for the second time. She spread out her arms at her sides. “You’re the expert, Kotori-chan. I’m at your mercy.” Kotori grumbled under her breath as she stepped forward to adjust Honoka’s bra. She figured that the straps just needed a bit of adjustment. “Uh…” She hesitated, not sure where to start. “This might be a bit awkward.” “Why? We’ve taken baths together before.” Honoka said obliviously. “It’s fine, Kotori-chan. If it makes you feel better I’ll close my eyes.” “That doesn’t help…” Kotori muttered as she stepped closer. She took another breath to calm herself before she carefully began to adjust the straps of Honoka’s bra. Being so close to her she could feel the warm emanating from her skin. Every time Honoka inhaled her chest would brush lightly against Kotori’s forearm, briefly distracting her. “So what else are you going to do to me?” Kotori silently cursed Honoka’s innocence. “We have a while before you have to leave so I’ll do your hair after this then we’ll get you into your dress, okay?” Honoka finally opened her eyes, beaming at Kotori. “Thanks, Kotori-chan. Do you think it’ll work? Umi-chan hasn’t really…” Her smile slipped and Kotori felt her chest tighten at the sight. “Lately I’ve been thinking she’s maybe not that into me anymore.” “Hey, stop.” Kotori lightly placed her hands on Honoka’s shoulders. “Umi-chan loves you. Everyone knows that. Now come on, let’s finish this up, okay? And you can tell me tomorrow that I’m a genius when this works out.” Honoka managed a laugh at that and allowed Kotori to guide her to her dresser. ---- “Maki wants to sleep with me.” Nozomi almost choked on her tea. Eli had sat down next to her at the table where she was studying and she hadn’t said anything for the past ten minutes so Nozomi hadn’t been expecting something. But not that. “W-What?!” “She wants to sleep with me.” Eli said again, slower this time. “After that girl kissed me yesterday she was angry. She said she didn’t like anyone else touching me. So she pinned me down and...well said she’s attracted to me. And kissed me again.” “That’s great!” Nozomi exclaimed brightly though the look on Eli’s face caused her smile to fade quickly. “Or not?” “I told her I’ve been in love with her since high school. And that I can’t do anything with her.” Eli answered, her shoulders slumped. “And then I ran.” “Elichi!” Nozomi lightly hit Eli over the head. “You’re such an idiot sometimes. The girl of your dreams wants to be with you and you said no?!” “The girl of my dreams wants to sleep with me!” Eli corrected, a little annoyed. “And then probably toss me aside. She doesn’t like me, Nozomi.” “She DOES, you idiot! How can you not see her cues? She may be dense but her body isn’t. She does want you!” “S-She said she craved me. That her heart craved me…” Eli mumbled, recalling what Maki had said to her. “Elichi, she’s basically spelling it out to you!” Nozomi groaned and turned more toward Eli. “Look just...tell me what happened when she said that, okay?” Eli stared down at the table. “She picked up my hand and pressed it to her chest. And...she said that. And that she’s never felt this way about anyone kissing her before.” “Damn it, Elichi. Why would you run from her?” Nozomi asked, at a loss. “She put herself out there, she told you how she feels. And now you’ve probably broken her heart by running away like…” “Like you?” Eli interjected sharply, anger tainting her tone. “You have no right to call me a coward, Nozomi.” Nozomi fell silent at that. She supposed she deserved it. “I’m no coward anymore, Elichi. I told my crush I like her. You’re the only one who’s running now.” Eli gritted her teeth together. Slowly she rose to her feet. “I stood by you when you did. I said we’d do whatever you need, remember? I didn’t call you an idiot, I didn’t force you to…” Nozomi frowned as Eli’s voice cracked. “Eli, I’m on your side. I’m always on your side, you know that. We’ve done this for years, haven’t we? We got used to hiding behind our friendship because it was easier than putting ourselves out there. But we can’t anymore. I have Kanacchi. And you could have Maki if you let her in. You’re just scared.” “Of course I’m scared!” Eli yelled, her voice thick with emotion. “W-What if she just wants me for sex?” “She doesn’t.” Nozomi reached out and took Eli’s hand in her own. Tearful blue eyes locked with hers. “She doesn’t. She just wants someone to love her. Sakura never loved her. She’s starving, Eli. She’s starving for you. For your warmth, your kindness, your care, your love. Both me and Kanacchi see the way she looks at you.” Eli’s lower lip trembled. “That’s not the only thing I’m afraid of, Nozomi.” Nozomi smiled softly even as she felt her own eyes prickle. “I know.” She said quietly, feeling Eli’s grip tighten on her hand. “You’re not going to lose me, Eli. Not just because we have other people now. It doesn’t work that way. I’ll still be here. We just won’t be hiding behind each other anymore. I felt the way you feel now too, when I was figuring out my feelings for Kanacchi. But you’re not losing me. You’re like the sister I always wanted, Elichi. I’m always going to be here for you. And you’ll always be here for me. I know that.” “But I’m just…” Eli trailed off her whimpered protest as the door across the room opened. She looked over, half expecting Kanan to walk in but it wasn’t. It was Maki instead. Maki paused in the doorway, looking between a tearful Eli and Nozomi who looked like she might cry herself. Her gaze inevitably slid back to Eli as the blonde quickly wiped her tears away. “What happened…?” “Don’t worry, Elichi and I were just having a moment.” Nozomi said, letting go of Eli’s hand. “Nothing’s wrong though. You know she’s a softy at heart.” “I see.” Maki said, looking away from Eli. “So how was your aquarium date yesterday, Nozomi?” Eli felt her heart sink as Maki changed the subject. It didn’t even seem like she wanted to look at her anymore. She sat back down at the table, her lip caught between her teeth as she listened to Nozomi answer. “It was nice. Kanan took me scuba-diving. With dolphins, in one of the tanks closed off to the public.” Nozomi answered brightly. “It was pretty romantic.” Maki gave a slight smile. Sakura had never done anything like that for her. She glanced at Eli, noticing the hurt look on her face. It mirrored how she herself felt. Nozomi frowned, noticing Maki’s cheeks were tear-stained. “Maki-chan, did you get any sleep last night?” Maki hesitated before shaking her head. “I had a nightmare.” She lied. She couldn’t tell the truth. That she’d been up all night, in floods of tears after what happened. Every time she almost calmed down she remembered that she might be losing Eli. Someone she was coming to realize was more important to her than she’d known. “You should have come over!” Nozomi exclaimed. “I-I didn’t want to bother anyone.” “You never bother me.” Eli said hoarsely as she looked up. As much as she wanted to stay quiet she couldn’t let that one slide. “What?” Maki looked directly into Eli’s eyes, her own watering. “I violated you last night! I took your first kiss. And I wanted to sleep with you. How am I not a bother?” “Maki, you...took my first kiss a while ago.” Eli said with a shrug of her shoulders. “You don’t remember because you were drunk but it doesn’t matter. It was yours to take. I wanted…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. I just want you to know you can always come here.” “W-Wait, what?!” Maki shook her head, trying to comprehend the idea that she had kissed Eli and she didn’t remember it. “Fuck, I forgot I’m a flirt when I’m drunk. I’m so sorry. I just...wait, you wanted to be kissed that way?” “W-Well not that way but...by you, yeah.” Eli said, wide eyed. “I’ve never imagined my first kiss being with anyone else…” “Go out with me!” Maki blurted out. Nozomi leaned back in her seat and sipped at her tea. “Well that escalated quickly…” “Huh?!” Eli exclaimed. “Go on a date with me.” Maki repeated as confidently as she could. “We’re going to do this properly. You deserve a date, not a drunken make out…” “Eh?” Eli gaped at Maki. “B-But what about...we can’t. When would we even…” “Tomorrow, 8pm.” Nozomi interjected quickly. “Be ready Maki-chan.” “Right!” Maki answered, relieved Nozomi had stepped in. “I-I’ll be here. Tomorrow.” “W-Wait, Nozomi. Maki…” Eli trailed off as Maki hurried from the apartment. “What just happened?” “You’re welcome.” Nozomi smirked smugly. “I’ll get Kotori to see if she has a dress your size. Well...now that I think about it, you should do that. I think Kotori is still pissed at me for…” “Nozomi, why did you do that?!” Eli exclaimed, looking a bit panicked. “I told you I can’t!” “Yes you can. Just calm down.” Nozomi said with a small smile. “Think of this as a thank you for matching me up with Kanacchi. You’ll be fine, I promise.” ---- Kotori wasn’t surprised to find that Umi was the only person awake when she shuffled out of her bedroom, glad in her pyjamas and a sweatshirt of Nico’s. It was still early in the morning. Much too early for people to wake up on a Saturday, but she had some work she needed to finish. “Good morning.” “Good morning.” Umi echoed, glancing up briefly. “I made coffee already if you want some.” Kotori mumbled her agreement and went to the coffee maker, pouring herself a cup. She turned back to Umi, frowning when she noticed her friend seemed to be wearing Honoka’s shirt. She looked more relaxed too, suggesting the date had worked out. She was happy for them but it was hard sometimes to watch Umi with the girl she used to pine for. She noticed a bite mark on Umi’s neck. “I guess your date went well. You knocked her out?” “Huh?” Umi looked up sharply and blushed when Kotori pointed at her neck. “Ah, um...yeah. I guess. I guess I had some...pent up feelings maybe. I just wanted to touch her without worrying and...she seemed to like it so…” Kotori hummed in response and turned to put some sugar in her coffee. “You topped her good, huh?” Umi shrugged sheepishly. “I like being on top.” Kotori laughed softly. Umi had gotten a lot more confident in talking about sex since high school but she knew she wouldn’t be able to push it much longer. “Oh, Umi-chan getting aggressive.” “Shut up.” Umi mumbled, feeling her face warm further at Kotori’s teasing. She looked up as Kotori sat down at the table a couple of seats from her. “The um...clothes were really nice. Honoka said you made them for her. It must have taken a while…” Kotori nodded. “She was worried that you weren’t interested in her anymore so I figured I should help.” Umi frowned down at the table. “I love her, Kotori. I want a future with her, I want to...marry her someday! I mean…there’s nobody else for me. I know that. Only her.” Kotori forced a small smile. “She loves you too. I should know, I’m the one who got her to confess to you.” Umi got up and went to hug Kotori, surprising her. “Thank you. I know it must have been hard.” Kotori shook her head, relaxing into Umi. “She wanted you. My feelings for her were always going to be one-sided. Besides, if it hadn’t happened like that I wouldn’t have Nico-chan.” Umi smiled as she let Kotori go and straightened up. “Nico really loves you. It’s obvious.” “Yeah…” Kotori murmured softly. “I don’t know what I would do without her.” “You shouldn’t worry about Nozomi.” Umi said, sitting back down, closer to Kotori this time. “Eli gave me the heads up that Nozomi is dating their roommate now. Or she likes her, at least.” “I know.” Kotori answered with a sigh. “I’m just worried that Nozomi-chan dating someone will trigger Nico-chan. She really liked her, back in high school.” “That doesn’t mean she’ll do anything, even if she still likes her.” Umi pointed out logically. “I mean you wouldn’t do anything with Honoka, right?” “Of course not, Honoka is your girlfriend.” Kotori looked appalled at the thought. “And I’m in love with Nico-chan, I wouldn’t throw that away because of...oh.” She blinked at Umi who was smirking smugly at her. “Our group really is complicated, huh? At least Rin-chan has it easy…” “Rin’s a workaholic.” Umi said with a fond roll of her eyes. “She doesn’t have time for romance.” Kotori chuckled at the comment. It was true enough. “I can’t wait for her to visit again. Muse hasn’t been together in so long.” “She’ll be here for winter break at least.” Umi reminded her, thinking back to what Raven had said. “It’ll be nice for us all to be together again, at least for a while.” “What are you two talking about?” Kotori and Umi looked up in time to see Honoka walk sluggishly into the kitchen. When she was close enough Umi reached out to grab her shirt and tugged her down into a soft kiss. “Morning sleepy head. You still sore?” “Too much! I don’t need to know that.” Kotori exclaimed though they both ignored her. “A little.” Honoka mumbled, a bit pitifully. She sat sideways on Umi’s lap, burying her face in the crook of her girlfriend’s neck. “I need some coffee…” Umi smiled as her arms went around Honoka. “I’d have to get up to get you some.” “I’ll get it.” Kotori said, getting up. She caught Umi’s grateful look as she made her way to the coffee maker. It seemed those two were back to their usual sickly sweet selves. The date must have worked. “I have class today…” Honoka muttered despondently. “I don’t wanna go.” “Do you want me to give you a piggy back ride?” Umi kissed Honoka’s cheek. “You would do that for me?” “Of course I would. I love you.” Umi answered softly though Kotori could hear every word. She rolled her eyes at the two of them. “I love you too, Umi-chan.” Kotori turned just in time to see Honoka nuzzled Umi’s neck with a soft sigh. She looked content, Kotori noticed with a hint of relief. Not worried like she had for the past few days. She set the cup of coffee down in front of Honoka. “I should get dressed. I have some projects to work on so I’ll see you two later.” “You don’t have to go.” Umi looked up, a bit concerned. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” Kotori said, waving a hand. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” ---- “I’m not saying, I want to stop working. I’m just saying I need to slow down.” Nico said for what felt like the tenth time. Her agent was nothing if not persistent. “The past few months have been hectic but it seems to be slowing down anyway, right?” On the other side of the phone, Nico heard Keiko sigh and she rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’m quitting, I just need to slow down like I said.” “Right. For personal reasons?” Keiko replied skeptically. “Since when have you ever wanted to slow down with work?” “I have...I have bigger things to deal with then work right now.” Nico faltered at a crossing, glancing both ways before she jogged across the road. “Yazawa-san, you can’t stop.” Keiko firmly insisted. “You’re climbing higher with each shoot. Before you know it you’ll be on television. Acting. This is only the beginning of your success. This could really help you and your family.”

Nico chuckled at that. “Ah, low blow…” Kei answered with a soft laugh of her own. “I want to help you, Nico. The moment you came into the agency I knew you were going to become something big. I’m glad you’ve trusted me through this journey, I just need you to keep trusting that I know what’s best. This is show business. It ain’t easy. Once you start climbing, you can’t stop.” Nico gave a heavy sigh. She had promised Kotori outright that she would take more time for her. But when her agent put it like that… “Fine, Kei. I’ll do the next shoot. And the cover shoot and interview for the one after that.” She relented reluctantly. “Good.” Keiko sounded nothing short of relieved. “This interview is going to be what will break you from the rest of the models, Nico.” “Yeah. Thanks.” Nico faltered, spotting Nozomi ahead. “I have to go, I’ll speak to you later. Bye.” She hung up, barely catching Keiko’s response and slipped her phone back into her pocket. She was just mustering up the courage to go and talk to Nozomi when she spotted Kanan duck out of the restaurant Nozomi was lingering in front of. She stopped short and ducked into a nearby alleyway, not wanting to be seen. She watched as Nozomi seemed to brighten at the sight of Kanan and reached out to take her hand. Kanan said something Nico didn’t quite catch and then leaned in, pressing a gentle, fleeting kiss to Nozomi’s lips. Nico felt her chest twinge but it was nothing compared to what she used to feel, before she had Kotori. It still hurt a little bit to watch but mostly it just made her want to go back home to Kotori. Especially now that it was the case that they might have even less time together than they had before. She knew that her girlfriend understood and that Kotori was being as patient with her as possible but she knew that could only last so long. Kotori didn’t deserve Nico putting her work before her all of the time. But to Nico, her work was important. Nico let out a growl of frustration as she watched Nozomi and Kanan walk into the restaurant, hand in hand. She wished everything could be as simple for her as they were for Nozomi. It wasn’t fair. Sighing, she continued on her way down the street, shoving her hands into her pockets. TBC.

#EliMaki #HonoUmi #KotoNico #KotoHono #NozoNico #NozoKanan #Fanfiction

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gracespilkerr · 5 years

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7 Benefits to Becoming a Volunteer Firefighter

There are never ending benefits to becoming a firefighter, but in this article I want to highlight seven benefits to becoming a volunteer firefighter.

Thousands of kids across the United States dream of becoming a firefighter when they grow up. Unfortunately, not as many actually do!

If you would be interested in pursuing a firefighting career and are motivated by an urgent need to serve your community, becoming a volunteer firefighter might just be for you.

Benefits To Becoming A Volunteer Firefighter

Opportunity to learn and build your resume

Serve your local community

Build more than just friendships

A sense of pride

A flexible schedule for work-life balance

Great opportunity for career growth

Some financial aid

Becoming a volunteer firefighter is arguably one of the most rewarding and fulfilling positions you can fill in your community. What’s even more encouraging about it is that it requires little to no experience to get started.

The primary objective of fire departments is to help prevent the fire from taking lives and destroying property. A volunteer firefighter is an individual who voluntarily provides his/her services to protect the community.

Research has indicated that nearly seventy percent of the United States fire service staff is made up of volunteers. For several reasons, the number of volunteers keeps decreasing while call volumes are on the rise.

This implies that there is an urgent need for a new group of volunteer firefighters and the opportunity waits for those who are willing to serve. Of course, the best place to begin is where you live.

Most fire departments have strict residency requirements and will only give you a chance to volunteer if you reside within a certain mileage from their central response area.

The primary reason behind this is simple. Fire departments need someone who can conveniently receive an alert and act fairly fast to respond to an emergency call.

Despite being an unpaid service, volunteer firefighting comes with a lot of potential benefits. So, if you are currently wondering about the possibility of becoming a volunteer firefighter but haven’t made up your mind, below are seven great reasons why you should become volunteer firefighter.

A great opportunity to build your resume:

Experience is a word usually thrown around in college classes and job interviews (especially during the firefighter interview), and if you are an aspiring firefighter, you should take this very seriously.

Experience is a critical factor, especially when it comes to securing a position with a career department, and without an adequate amount of experience, you risk getting passed up for a job vacancy you are actually qualified for.

Don’t let a great opportunity pass you by, get the experience you need for your dream job by becoming a volunteer firefighter to gain some experience.

The prospect of working at your local fire department is a great step toward becoming a career firefighter. If you didn’t know, when trying to get hired at a career department, fire chiefs and officers almost always favor the candidate who already has some level of experience.

Working as a volunteer firefighter provides you the opportunity to interact with other career firefighters who are volunteering to help in their community.

What’s more, while working as a volunteer firefighter, you will likely undergo additional training to hone your skills even further. You will receive wildfire training, operational training, advanced medical training as well as leadership training.

Simply put, being a volunteer firefighter is one of the best ways to get the much-needed work experience and build your resume for better future opportunities.

An opportunity to serve your community:

Being a volunteer firefighter can be a hugely rewarding experience and a unique way to serve your community.

However, it does require lots of dedication, leadership, sacrifice as well as immense mental and physical stamina.

Many communities depend on firefighters for protection against fire hazards and other disasters and individuals must volunteer to become firemen at their various local departments.

Volunteer firefighters not only serve their community but are equally more visible and active members of their community. This is primarily because the work that fire departments perform in the community has a direct impact on the people you know and interact with daily.

Saving lives and property and serving people is arguably the primary reason why you would want to enter into a public safety career. When you work as a volunteer fireman you will have a fantastic opportunity to do this almost daily.

There is nothing more satisfying and fulfilling than being able to work as a volunteer, and also knowing that you are a highly valuable asset to your community.

An opportunity to build more than friendships:

When you are working as a firefighter, the chances are very high that you will meet with other like-minded individuals and this allows you to create lasting friendships as well as strong professional networks.

Volunteer firefighting is a great way to strengthen and expand your professional network. When the time comes to seek a professional reference, someone to help you out with a project or something similar, or even a career recommendation, you will have potentially endless people and accomplished experts to turn to.

Your circle grows even stronger and bigger when you regularly attend firefighting community events where you get to interact with all kinds of people. And all these people can be your great source of help when you need it the most.

A sense of pride:

As a volunteer firefighter, you will benefit from a sense of accomplishment, pride as well as an achievement that comes with the type of work you’ll do.

You will learn new skills from the best firefighting experts, make new friends, be part of a dedicated department, give back to your community, become a pillar and make a real difference in the community where you live.

You will earn more respect from people within your community because you work for their safety and overall welfare. What’s more, your primary mission will be to make a major difference in the lives of the people, and such a rare accomplishment will likely give you an immeasurable sense of pride and satisfaction.

A flexible schedule ideal for work-life balance:

If you didn’t know, when you become a volunteer fireman you have much more control over the amount of commitment and involvement you would want to offer the department.

Fire departments and stations usually design flexible working schedules for their firefighters that allow you to take part in other activities.

Typically, they offer hours for monthly commitments for volunteers. And it is upon you to actually choose the best schedule that suits you. This, of course, gives you a great opportunity to involve yourself in other paying jobs and also carry out your daily family responsibilities.

Opportunity for career growth:

As we previously mentioned, while recruiting career firefighters, most fire departments often give preference to candidates who have previous experience in fire or EMS.

Whether you are a rookie firefighter, new to the world of public safety or boast tons of experience, volunteer firefighting offers advanced to basic rescue, fire, leadership and EMS courses through state and federal programs.

These courses are free of charge to active members of fire departments and provide an opportunity for progression through various operations, ranks and roles.

It is also important to note that the valuable and extensive training you get as a volunteer firefighter not only helps you in your career growth, but in your personal life as well.

Some of the areas you will encounter are sure to include hazardous materials, fire investigation, firefighting and rescue skills, operating the available fire apparatus, conflict resolution, wild-land fire awareness and response and emergency operations.

Simply put, being a volunteer fireman enhances every aspect of your life.

Financial aid:

Even though volunteer firefighters technically don’t get routine monthly paychecks, they usually do receive some form of financial aid to help compensate them for their service.

Your fire department knows and understands that you not be able to get the time to engage in other paid jobs and have to carter for transportation costs to respond to your work station.

Though the actual reimbursement is likely to vary from one state to another and from department to department, volunteer fire professionals normally receive some amount of payment that is based on call responses.

It is also worth to mention that fire departments and stations usually provide numerous tuition reimbursement programs to their volunteers.

You will also may be given some cash for attending meetings and pieces of training as well as for the amount of time spent on shifts. However, the amount of reimbursement is usually at the discretion of the fire department.

These are just seven benefits to becoming a volunteer firefighter. Volunteer firefighters play a significant role in the fire service and this is why they are in high demand nationwide.

You have every reason to apply for a volunteer firefighter position, especially if you are physically fit, have a relevant educational background and don’t have any criminal record. And who knows, you could even be offered a full-time firefighter position based on your performance.

For more information on volunteer firefighting check out the National Volunteer Firefighting Council here.

The post 7 Benefits to Becoming a Volunteer Firefighter appeared first on FirefighterNOW.

from FirefighterNOW https://firefighternow.com/7-benefits-to-becoming-a-volunteer-firefighter/

From https://catherinelee4.blogspot.com/2019/10/7-benefits-to-becoming-volunteer.html

source https://catherinelee4.wordpress.com/2019/10/26/7-benefits-to-becoming-a-volunteer-firefighter/

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