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savannah-lim · 3 years

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Don’t Be Shellfish || Savannah & Dave

Timing: Current Location: The Codfather Parties: @savannah-lim and @seizethecarpe Content: Gore, violence, discussion of death Summary: Savannah and Dave go out for dinner and the food is a little bit more fresh than they anticipated.

Savannah could only have been more relieved if Dave had asked her to go for drinks instead of a meal, but she understood his reluctance considering the recent bar fight. There was nothing to stop them having drinks with their food, right? She hardly ever used her daily allowance for food and drink, so still reeling from her conversation with Felix, Savannah decided that fuck it; she was going to treat herself. What was the point of living in the East End and not trying out the best restaurants in the area? The FBI could foot the fucking bill.

Savannah had called ahead to make the reservation a few nights prior, and even upon arriving, she could tell this place wasn’t her usual setting. Maybe that was why it was so appealing though. For once, she wanted to distract herself with something that wasn’t leftover Chinese food or a burger and fries. Savannah arrived first, ordering some wine while she waited for Dave to arrive, hoping he had the sense to dress for the occasion.

Dave had been a bit hesitant about coming to the Codfather. He didn’t have the clothes for a place like this, never mind the money. But when she’d suggested this place, Dave could hardly say no to what he ate on the daily, but made fancy. He’d have to cut his food small enough that he wouldn’t need to chew with his teeth caps on, but he had plenty of practice with that. With his neatest plaid and a pair of jeans that were only scuffed and torn at the bottom hems, he walked in to the restaurant only mildly uncomfortable, quickly smelling Savannah out through the crowd, and using her scent to lead him to her rather than sight. “Evenin’. How’ve you been?”

Rather than be judgmental about Dave’s choice of attire, Savannah found it oddly amusing. There was a sort of cheap thrill that came out of debunking everyone’s expectations. Savannah herself hadn’t dressed completely fancy; just a plan navy blue dress and a little bit of jewelry, but some of the patrons wore what could only have been the most expensive garments. She could sense the entitlement around them. “I’ve been…” she started to answer, shrugging with a vague laugh. “Well, I don’t know. I’ve been fine, but I’ve seen a lot these last few weeks. I’ve learned a lot. How about you?”

“Yeah, Jesus, sounds like you’ve had a more exciting month than me.” Well, that was likely debatable - the bruises around Dave’s neck had slowly shifted into faint shadows, but they still ached. He wasn’t moving his arm as much as normal, where the cut was still healing around carefully practiced stitches. Still, contributing to the banishment of Bloody Mary was no small thing, but he wasn’t the one being chased by witches on broomsticks. Hell. He’d almost bought a vial of Nepenthe, he had stared at it on the counter with his dealer for a long old while before deciding he didn’t want to be that kind of guy, not when he had other options. “Been better, been worse. Fishing’s always a bit rougher in the winter, but I make do.”

“You’re not a very open person, Dave. You know that, don’t you?” Savannah ordered them each a drink, (whatever Dave wanted), a small, humorless chuckle leaving her lips. “Better and worse. Not very specific. You’re one of the closest things to a friend I have in this town, and I still know nothing about you.” She sipped her beer, shrugging. “Okay. I’ll go first. I’m from Boston. I’m from a Korean-American family, thoroughly upper middle class and very set on their kid’s achieving things. They expected me to be a doctor or lawyer, but this is close enough. I was married. Now divorced, but still keep in touch and have inappropriate conversations every once in a while. No kids. Don’t want them… No pets either, but maybe some day.”

Dave chuckled, tilting his head in in wry acknowledgement. “I’ve been told that before.” He thanked her for ordering the drinks, watching the waiter go. “Damn. I don’t know if that says more about me or you.” He said it teasingly, but listened intently, focusing on her lips as she talked, mouthing the words subconsciously to make sure he didn’t miss any of it. He smiled at her reference to inappropriate conversations. “Alright, then. Well, I’m from Texas. We travelled around the coast when I was young, not really sticking to any sort of place. Grew up exactly as my parents expected, athletic and charming. Still am, I’d sure you agree,” Dave laughed at himself there. The sands of time had worn away most of his natural charisma. “Was married. Three sons. Haven’t really lived in one place long enough to settle down in the last couple decades. I live on what I fish and what I hunt by and large. Sometimes I sell what I catch, sometimes I help folks find things they’ve lost in lakes and shit.” Dave smiled thinly. “That help at all?” Their drinks arrived, and Dave took a big gulp of his lager with enthusiasm. The problem was that he couldn’t tell her everything. Seemed shitty to be her closest friend here when his whole life had to be a secret, when he idly wondered whether the kind thing was to get someone to take her concerning memories.

As secretive as he was, Savannah enjoyed Dave's company. Maybe it was a fire-forged friends thing, an unspeakable feeling of kinship without rhyme nor reason, forged out of almost being human sacrificed together. "You're probably right. It does say more about me," she shrugged. "I've often focused more on my work than my relationships. Hence the divorce." She listened as he told her about himself. "Any of your sons close to my age?" she teased, shaking her head. "That right there is more about you in thirty seconds than I've learned in... weeks? Months? Time doesn't seem to exist in this town." She flipped the menu over, handing one to him. "Since you're the resident fisherman, what would you recommend? Fuck the price. I haven't spent my full FBI living allowance in weeks."

“Me too. Never been able to stick to a relationship since my first. Too distracted with other stuff.” Dave said. Too busy getting justice for his first family to be able to get justice for his second. “Hey, watch who you’re calling old,” Dave replied with a wry smile, but it didn’t last. “My sons died, decades ago. Hence the not talking about myself.” He shrugged, the wrinkles of his smiles not quite reaching his eyes. “Prefer to keep to myself. Work keeps me busy, and I’m usually out on the water in one way or another. Not much of a people person.” He flicked his eyes over the menu, looking it over. “I know these folks catch local and fresh, and the lobster in the area is good. That’s what I’ll be going for, either way.”

Oh, shit. His sons had died. Well, now she felt like a dick. “Sorry to hear that.” Savannah took a sip of her wine, as if it would cure the embarrassment of jokingly flirting with a man’s deceased children. “Okay, I won’t ask you any more personal questions until at least dessert.” She signalled the waitress over and ordered a mixed platter of starters to share and a lobster each for the main course. Savannah’s family were decently well-off, as you’d expect successful doctors to be, but she had reasonably simple tastes and rarely went all out like this. She asked Dave about generic things like fishing and hunting while they ate, keeping her promise not to delve into anything more personal. By the time their plates were clean, Savannah exhaled a massive, satisfied sigh. “Wow. I don’t even know that I have room for dessert after that. It was amazing.” It was just as well, because Savannah wouldn’t even have had time to reach for the dessert menu before the soft background music and casual conversations around them were pierced by the sound of dishes and pans clattering in the kitchen, followed by yelps and screams.

“Me too,” Dave said, sipping from his beer with the same vigour. Talking about dead kids always put a weird vibe in the conversation, but he had the feeling Savannah would have been able to tell if he had lied too obviously, and he couldn’t maintain the same straight face talking about family as when he lied about the supernatural. As the food came, they settled into easier conversation, the kind he could do while remembering how to eat lobster the fancy human way and not the crunch-the-exoskeleton-with-your-jaw way. He managed it, and by the time they were done he was more than satisfied, he wouldn’t even have to go for more later. Dave was about to wave away the dessert, happy to watch her enjoy, when he realised that the room was reacting to something he couldn’t hear. Everyone was looking over to the kitchen, including Savannah. When someone staggered out of the kitchen with a bleeding arm, hand dangling on by just a couple inches of flesh, Dave jumped to his feet, grabbing his bag before striding over to the kitchen to see what was up, without even looking over to see what Savannah was doing.

Savannah’s eyes widened in horror at the sight. They got out, someone was screaming. They fucking got out! “Call 911,” she demanded of the nearest person, knowing that giving the task to a specific person was more likely to yield results than letting the whole restaurant fumble and assume someone else was going to do it. Luckily, she’d finally realised she needed to bring her gun to literally every place she went in White Crest, and she followed Dave towards the kitchens, calling after him. “Hey! Hold up. It might be dangerous! Something got loose in there.” However, danger was unlikely to deter Dave, given they’d met one another while volunteering to be human sacrificed as a ploy. The kitchen door swung on its hinges, back and forth as Dave walked through it. Savannah did the same, gasping at the sight that befell her; lobsters the size of everything from cats to Golden Retrievers, running around the room, destroying everything in sight. “I don’t think--I don’t think this is gonna help,” she said, gesturing feebly to her firearm. Where was Kaden and his harpoon when she needed him?

Dave reached into his satchel, pulling a strange metallic device the size of his forearm. He stepped back from the Karkinoids, quickly unfolding the prongs of the trident and extending out the haft until everything clicked in securely. An imperfect weapon, but decent for driving between the chinks of a nearby Karkinoid’s armour. “No, it won’t. Get out of here!” He barked. He used the trident to fling the karkinoid across the room, looking for where the hell they’d come from. In the corner of the room was an extremely large bucket, that looked surprisingly sturdy for holding just lobsters. It had been knocked over. Unless, of course, they knew they weren’t. Dave groaned, jumping away from one little slash at his ankles. There were what, four or five? He couldn’t kill them with the trident, just whack them around. He’d be able to do more with his teeth, but if he could get them all back in the bucket, it’d be a hell of a lot easier. Dave swore, pinning down one of the nearby karkinoids with his trident while he tried to get something resembling a plan.

Savannah’s eyes widened in awe as Dave pulled what appeared to be a giant fork from his satchel. What kind of dinner had he thought they were going for? “I’m not--no!” was all she could answer when he told her to leave, and not having a trident to hand, she could only make do with spraying the creatures back with a fire extinguisher to give herself enough room to climb up on top of the counters. Rest in peace to this place’s hygiene rating, but that was the least of their problems right now. Dave was holding his own, and she gazed on, shocked and impressed, but they couldn’t just keep up this avoidance tactic forever. God, she was going to have so many words with the manager after this. “What do you want me to do?!” she asked. Should she call Kaden? No. They’d be lobster food by the time he even got here.

Dave tongued the covers off his teeth, his fangs descending. He moved spryly on his feet. “I want you to leave,” he growled, words not forming as easily around his canines, although he was careful not to show his teeth to Savannah. “They’ve got to get back in the barrel.” One of the karkinoids swung its giant claws for Savannah, and Dave moved with a feline reflex, grabbing it by the tail and hurling it across the room into the barrel. That was one, but the karkinoids were looking for freedom, and the two of them were the only thing holding the rest of the world from the karkinoids.

“I can’t leave!” Savannah called back to him. His voice was almost guttural. They’d kill her before she even got to the door, and she couldn’t just leave Dave to fight the things by themselves. “Why the barrel? Just--kill them!” As if it was that easy, or that obvious. There had to be some kind of weapon in here, something they used in the event of this ever happening or to get the things in there to begin with. Then she saw it, or rather, them. There were a pair of catchpoles on the wall. One for each claw. “There!” she yelled, pointing. “We can get them restrained!”

“How do you propose I do that?” Dave snapped back, clambering onto a bench to avoid being snipped at. Instead the claw of the karkinoid cut right through the steel drawers underneath the counter, and the rest of it began to groan as that support was taken out of the picture. This wasn’t his sturdy trident, it was his back up in case of emergency. In the water, this would be piss easy, but while they weren’t fast moving on land, nor was her, and it wasn’t so easy to get his jaw around them here. “Can we?” He repeated, following the line she was pointing at. “Great,” he growled, before jumping over to another counter, and then dropping back down to the floor heavily, rubbing his knee before grabbing the poles, throwing it across the room to Savannah. That was just enough time for a Karkinoid to pinch the flesh of his calf and cut into it deeply. With a roar, Dave caught its tail, picked it up - it was only cat sized - and with his teeth crunched through the red exoskeleton and tore off its pincer, before throwing it onto a counter where the hot top was still on, and it struggled to get off the heat. He checked whether his leg could hold his weight, before looking up to Savannah. They each had a catchpole to deal with the other two.

“I don’t know!” Savannah answered. Somehow this situation made her even more frantic than the mermaid. At least with Kaden, they had come prepared. “I’ve never killed a giant lobster before.” It wasn’t as if they could boil them until their shells were nice and soft. The catchpoles were all they had to work with. Dave quickly took care of one, though Savannah couldn’t fail to notice the rip in his pants and the blood dripping from his wound when she turned back towards him after grappling with her own. She tried to keep her grip steady around the handle as the lobster struggled to break free. “I think we know why our meal was so filling,” she said, using the pole to edge the creature back towards the huge barrel it had escaped from. “Keep the other one back,” she instructed as she struggled with the creature, clearly less practiced in this area than Dave.

Dave has killed giant lobsters before, as Savannah called them. But not like this, not in an enclosed space, not with his back up Trident that wasn’t very secure, not while above ground in his human suit. Definitely not, while trying to hide his true identity from an FBI agent. Every time he shifted his weight or tried to step away or towards one of the karkinoids, his leg threatened to give away underneath him. He nodded as Savannah told him to keep control of the Karkinoids that she wasn’t pushing towards the barrel, but even the split second he took to read her lips was enough to get another deep gash on his leg. Yelling, Dave kicked the lobster. He’d aimed for the joints of its exoskeleton. It bounced against a nearby table, stuck on its back for a second. Dave grabbed a nearby counter to take his weight off his leg. Jesus, fuck, that hurt. If nothing else, he was relieved that he hadn’t tried to dress up for today. With the Trident he pinned the Karkinoid in place, And managed to get the Catchpole that he was holding over one of its pincers. The other pincer sliced right through the table and a flurry of pots and pans clattered to the floor, along with a large piece of salmon that had been prepared earlier. Grimacing, Dave used the Catchpole to drag it over to the barrel and drop it inside.

It was incredibly frustrating to not be able to use her gun in this situation. She wished she had Kaden's harpoon or the other tools he was sure he had access to. "Shit, shit, shit--" Savannah repeated frantically under her breath as she tried to wrangle the creature, to get it under control. It was evident that Dave was badly injured, maybe not in ways that would cause permanent damage, but certainly enough to impair him in this encounter. She narrowly missed being grabbed by the one she was wrangling and finding herself in a similar situation.

Dave fought to get the creature back in the tank, and Savannah did the same. Once they were done, she let go of the catchpole, not even caring that it fell into the pot with them, and then she pulled the lid back on, sealing them inside. She collapsed onto the ground in the pile of recently fallen pots and pans. "Are... Are you okay?" she gasped, eyes widening as she saw the extent of the blood on his leg. "I'll call an ambulance..."

Dave lowered himself to the floor slowly, extending his injured leg out in front of him. “Been worse,” he said gruffly, the waver in his voice a clear sign that it was not great either. “Looks worse to you than it is,” he groaned, wrapping a nearby tea towel around his legs, staunching the bleed. All the same, this would take him out of the running for a few weeks at least. When she reached down, he pushed his teeth guards back into his mouth. Like hell was he acknowledging that he’d ever taken them off, to begin with. He huffed laughingly. “Think they’ll comp us the dinner?”

#paras #with: dave

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a-milky-strawberry · 5 years

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Suga x Reader - Cold (2) (Angst/Slight Fluff)

It’s been years since you were discharged from the hospital. The doctor had put you in a therapy program. You were required to meet with a man 3 times a week to discuss your “condition”.Due to the fact you didn’t go to half of them, you now had to have the sessions in your own personal home. Whoopee! At the time your parents were so anxious and frustrated over you that you felt you couldn’t even take a shit without them trying to break down the bathroom door. The last straw was when they told you (not asked you, told you) that they were going to take the hinges off of every door in the house, not including the front or back door. Yep, that meant the bathroom, your room, their room, closets, etc.. You moved out 2 days later. You had found a nice, small apartment that was cheap to the point of being suspicious. There was no kitchen, 1 bathroom, and your living area and bedroom were connected. The only thing you had remotely close to a kitchen was a mini fridge and a hot plate. It was kinda like a studio only smaller.

You weren’t going to do anything stupid with moving out and plus you hadn’t done much of anything since you got discharged. In fact, you had taken temporary leave from school and they understood once word got around about your accident. However, the pity in their eyes made you wanna vomit. You didn’t need their pity, their “how are you feeling today”’s, or the burdensome help. You just wanted to be left the hell alone. Was that really too much to ask? With the money you were saving for grad school you instead used it to get said tiny studio in Jeonju. The tenants were primarily old people but they were nice and it was always quiet. Sometimes you’d joke to yourself if you accidentally rented in a retirement home.

Today the weather was nice and sunny but due to your blackout curtains you could hardly tell. If it weren’t for the small gaps on the side shining a bit of natural light you’d think you lived in eternal darkness. Besides, the T.V. provided enough light for you as you laid on the cool wood floor. You weren’t watching anything in particular, just surfing the channels for anything interesting. A familiar song bombarded your ears and you tune into the screen.

BTS.

If you could’ve rolled your eyes any harder they’d get stuck staring at your brain.

It wasn’t that you despised them now. In fact, you were still on good terms with them. Well, except for that piece of shit moron Suga. You clicked your tongue as that name entered your head as his face shown on your screen. You spit on the name Min Yoongi. Being that you had an extreme allergic reaction to him caused you to miss out on some good songs and concerts. Though you didn;t really care because--

*K-Chlick*

You groaned thinking you had jinxed yourself as your heard your front door being unlocked by a certain spare key.

“HEY!! WAKEY-WAKEY BEST FRIEND!!”

Oh no. Please no.

“WOW! IT’S SUPER DARK IN HERE!”

Your curtains flew upon letting in the blinding rays of death. You curled up in a ball and let of a harsh hiss as you were temporarily blinded.

“THERE! NOW IT’S ALMOST AS BRIGHT AS ME!!”

Sigh. You jinxed it.

J-Hope. Jung Hoseok. Sunshine. Your Hope, Hobi.

Now, you hadn’t given him a spare key specifically. You had given it to Jungkook, your still best friend. He gives it to one of the members in rotation when he doesn’t have enough time to check on you. But now, you have almost every member busting through your day everyday even without warning. However, none of the guys are as loud as J-Hope, but what did you expect?

You felt as if someone was staring at you and it had gotten way too quiet. You peeked open your eyes and saw a smiling Hobi with the sun rays in the background like he was some goddamn angel.

“Hey best friend! Didya miss me? Huh? Huh?! Didya?!”

“As much as I hate to admit it, your presence is very… overpowering.” You sighed.

He dramatically gasped and clutched his heart. “Did I just hear a compliment that wasn’t bitter or sarcastic? Am I dreaming?!”

You groaned at his theatrics. “Don’t push it.”

You then felt some strong back pats and rubs. “Okay, okay. Anyway, I brought you lunch.”

You uncurled and sat up to see a large fast food bag and the smell of salty fries and processed cheese with sweaty meat.

“Lemme guess… McDonald’s? Cheeseburger, medium fries, and a Sprite.”

This man had the nerve to look shocked at your obvious guess. “H-How’d you know?”

“You bring me the same thing every time you come over, Hoseok. At least be original and bring me like a Fillet Fish or something.”

Hoseok chuckled embarrassed and scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You turned your attention back to your T.V. and changed the channel to a random sitcom that played. “You can have it. I’m not hungry.”

Hoseok frowned. “Are you not eating again?”

You rolled your eyes. “First off, just because I was lazy not to walk alllll the way to the kitchen at my parent’s house doesn’t mean I was unintentionally not eating. Second off, no dummy, I just went out last night and picked up some street food. I had some leftover this morning too, so I’m not all that hungry.”

You side-eyed the greasy food on the floor. “Plus, if I eat another McDonald’s cheeseburger again I’m gonna be sick.”

Hoseok laughed. “Fair enough.” He gathered the fast food bag and put it in your fridge for “that special midnight craving”.

As he was heading towards the door, he stopped and looked back.

“Hey, ummm… (Y/N)?”

“Uh-huh?” I answered still watching the sitcom.

“There’s gonna be a concert tomorrow night. And I was wondering… if you wanted to come this time.”

Here we go again. Anytime the guys would visit they would try to convince you to get out of the house to go to either their concerts, after parties, movie nights, and it didn’t matter where you were, on the toilet, in the shower, night outs, lunch, dinner, brunch, you name it. A tiny part of you wants to go, like it’s still clings to who you once were. But, the rest of you doesn’t want to exist socially and you feel like if you see Suga nothing’s gonna stop your fists from colliding on his cheek.

“Probably not--”

“Please (Y/N). I’m begging you.” He was now fully turned towards you and on his knees. “We haven’t been able to be all together or see you as much since you moved out from your parents and we miss you.”

You stayed silent.

“Everyone is so worried about you. Even Bang PD-nim. Everyone misses you and they want to see how you’re doing. Please (Y/N).”

You felt this weird pain in your chest. Almost like your heart was clenching tight at his plea. Why did you feel pain over this?

“I didn’t ask for ANYONE to be worried about me. I’m FINE!” you snapped. You didn’t mean to snap at him or was it that you didn’t mean to be defensive? Why were you getting so in a knot over this? Just tell him no like you have multiple times. Or was this feeling because you wanted to go? It’s now making your head hurt over how stupidly convoluted your overthinking was.

Hoseok sighed. “If you won’t come for us, then please visit Yeontan.”

Yeontan? V’s puppy?

“I know you saw on Twitter that he got a puppy. Don’t you want Yeontan to meet his auntie?”

Well,... you had been wanting to meet that fluff ball too and the pictures you saw on Twitter made you have a case of FOMO big time. He was the only one that made a small smile appear on your lips and a twinge of happiness in your heart.

You sighed. “Maybe.” you mumbled as you closed your blackout curtains back.

Hoseok was silent for a while before heavy stomps made their way towards you and you were lifted off the ground. “FOR REAL?! OH THANK YOU (Y/N)!!” he screamed as he lunged forward and picked you up in celebration. “YOU WON’T REGRET THIS IS SWEAR!”

“Put. Me. Down. You. ANIMAL!” you yelped. “I’m getting nauseous!”

Hoseok put you down and ran towards the door. “Just wait until I tell the guys about this! They’re gonna be sooo psyched!”

“Dumbass! I said--” the door slammed closed with Hoseok already gone “maybe…”

You clicked your tongue at his brashness. You never fully agreed to go. He was blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Besides, how’d he even think you were going to get it? The concert is tomorrow night. If there is a ticket out there it probably costs an arm and a leg to get it. And that’s not counting if it’s also fake. You groaned in frustration and fell to the floor already tired of the day’s events. You felt your eyelids grow heavy and decided on a cat nap. You crawled over to your mattress and pushed it closer to the T.V. You laid on top and wrapped yourself in a warm weighted blanket and snuggled into your pillow. Before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

---

It was the night of the concert and you were staring at the ceiling in the dark. Why was yesterday’s talk with Hoseok bothering you so much? You hadn’t stopped thinking about it since he left and it was honestly giving you a headache.

*Grooowl*

Your stomach cut through the silence. You lazily crawled over to the fridge and winced at the bright light and shivered from the cool air. There wasn’t much, except the greasy bag of McDonald’s Hoseok had given you yesterday. Sighing, and praying that you don’t get an upset stomach, you took the bag and opened it.

You pulled out some fries and them being illuminated by the fridge light was a ticket and a backstage pass sticking out of it. You automatically groaned and took them both out. What also caught your eye was on the fries bag was written: ‘PLEASE!’ You pulled out the chicken nuggets: ‘PLEASE!’ The cheeseburger: ‘PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE!’

Your eye twitched in annoyance. He really was trying here. You looked back at the ticket and then at your phone.

“The concert’s already started… Is there any point in going anymore? Plus, I didn’t even promise that I would even go…”

You looked back at the pleading food and remembered Hoseok’s face when he collapsed on his hands and knees. And even when you told him ‘maybe’ he looked so happy. He would want me to go for even a little while, right? You sighed, got up on your feet, and walked over to your closet.

“Where’d I put that hoodie?”

---

You were now standing outside the stadium already regretting your choices of being outside. You had drove nearly 3 hours from home to this concert and you were already having second thoughts. You suddenly had a stomach-churning flashback as you remembered what they’re concerts are like. It’s hot and loud and sweaty and full of screams; both fanboys and fangirls. You shivered and shrugged it off. You were more than late to the concert. You already knew how this would plan out. They’d tell you it was too late, you’d text Hoseok saying you were late and couldn’t get it, and that you would be the end of it. You’d go back to your bed where things were nice and quiet. At least, that’s what you thought…

“Oh, Miss (Y/N)! You finally arrived! I thought you were having second thoughts!”

A perky woman in the ticket booth greeted you happily and took your ticket. How did she--

“How do you know my name?”

“Oh! From BTS, of course. They told me you’d be arriving and gave me a picture as reference. Though, I must admit you do look a little different. But anyways, they told me to let you in no matter what!”

You internally screamed. Of course. That loud mouth J-Hope must’ve gone and run his mouth to every and anyone. Idiot. What if I hadn’t shown up or threw out that McDonald’s? Wait… does that mean he knows I’m--

“Here you are! Enjoy the show!” the woman said giving me back the ticket stub.

I muttered a thanks and went in. You were more towards the front and that meant you’d be pushed and shoved by the mosh of fangirls. Before opening the concert door, you took a deep breath. You could already hear the soft roar of the fans. Maybe they’ll be singing Heartbeat and it’ll be calm when you walk in.

You opened the door and your ears were immediately assaulted with the unholiest of screeches. They weren’t singing Heartbeat. You slammed closed the door and tried to steady your already hyperventilating breathing. God! Were these concerts always this loud?! How were you not deaf?! Okay, okay, okay… this won’t be that bad. Just go in, stay for about 30 minutes, take a picture, send it to the guys, and get the hell out of here. You breathed in once more ready for the game plan and opened the door once more.

You walked down the stairs and found your row. Being meek and polite, you made your way through the horde and found your spot. You looked up at the bright lights that displayed the dancing group. They were singing Dionysus and of course they were giving it 110% almost matching the same volume as the fans. ‘This song… ah… from the new album…’ You tried your best to endure the loud volume and you bobbed your head to the lyrics. Even if your worst enemy was up there, you should at least enjoy the music. The next song to play was HOME which was your favorite because it was nice and slow. The vocals on Jimin, V, and Namjoon were so beautifully woven that you couldn’t help but sway. You looked at Jimin as he sang. ‘Ah… how cute… oh! I should take a picture…’ You took out your phone and as soon as you were going to press the button someone slammed you from behind causing you to drop it. ‘Shit!’ Not worrying about who pushed you, you bent down and started looking. You were getting glares and whispered comments about your situation during such an emotional and beautiful song. You ignored them and kept looking. It was too dark and you could barely see anything apart from the soft glow of the Army Bombs and shoes.

“Excuse me?” said a male voice.

You looked up to see a nice looking boy holding something. “Are you looking for this?” It was your phone! You quickly stood up and nodded. As he handed you the phone he gave you a wink and a chuckle. “I drop my phone sometimes at so many concerts I’d hate for it to happen to someone else. Hold it tight, kay cutie?”

You felt your face go red and I bowed a quick thanks as you went back to your spot. No way… Did that guy just make you… blush?! You shook your head and went back to the task at hand, taking the picture. As you raised your phone up, you saw that Jimin was making a passionate face. Smirking, you took a pic. ��I bet if I post this…. That’ll be hilarious!’

As the concert came to an end you had a feeling of slight sadness. You had enjoyed the new songs and the silly antics they did. You also saw how dedicated they had become and how grown and strong they looked. Maybe Jungkook was right. It wouldn’t hurt to pop in every now and again. The stadium was clearing out and you sighed and looked at your backstage pass. Then, you had a question that should’ve been asked before coming: Since when did BTS start doing backstage passes? Where would you even go? As you walked up to the silver gate that protected the security and BTS, a security guard walked up to you.

“Miss (Y/N)?” he asked.

Of course it had something to do with J-Hope. “Let me guess. BTS told you about me?”

He nodded and held out his hand. You gave him the pass and he nodded again. “Please follow me.” You took his hand and he helped you over the gate. Some leftover fans stared in disbelief at the fact you were personally being escorted backstage. Walking back there gave you a since nostalgia. Meeting the guys after the concert, congratulating them, going out to eat as celebration and relaxation. Your heart twinged at the memories, but you tried to shrug it off. You were going to see them after a long time. This is a happy thing, right? Happiness…

“We’re here.” spoke the security guard as he opened the door to the green room. The guys weren’t there yet. “You can wait here.”

I said a polite thank you and walked around the room. It was so much bigger. Your boys were getting so popular… Well, they deserved it. As you looked around the room, a cage caught your eye. Curious, you bent down and looked inside. “Yeontan?” The dog seemed to recognize its name and lifted its head. You opened the cage and Yeontan walked up to you, sniffing. You picked up the tiny fluff ball in awe and held it close to your face. “Aww!” you screamed. “Aren’t you just about the cutest thing ever! Who's a good boy?!”

Your words got Yeontan hyped up and he started licking your face. You smiled brightly at the cutie. This was so much better than looking at his pictures on Twitter. “You’re a good boy! Yes, you are! You look like a tiny chocolate chip cookie! I could just eat you up but I wouldn’t because you’d be too sweet!”

“(Y/N)?” called a voice. You looked towards the door and saw all the members staring. All of them. You felt nervous and your stomach started churning again. It’s been years since you’d seen them all together. You normally saw them one at a time, but that didn’t mean you saw them everyday. You had seen one member every few months if you were lucky. They looked tired and Jungkook looked more like an adult. Those pictures on Twitter don’t do him justice. What would you even say to them? What do you say in a situation like this?

“Didja miss me?” Smooth (Y/N), real smooth.

Suddenly, all at once, the members group hugged you and started talking over each other.

“See I told you she’d come--”

“Of course we missed you idiot--”

“You’ve missed so much--”

“We’ve miss you so much--”

“Have you been eating?”

“You look sooo skinny--”

“You playing with Yeontan was sooooo cuuuuuttteeeee--”

You pushed back from the group hug and grinned. “Yeah, yeah… I missed you guys too. You look so mature now.”

“How was the concert?! Didja like it?! Didja love it?! Oh who am I kidding? Of course, you loved it! You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t love it! Didja like our songs?!” Jungkook rattled off a hundred words a minute.

“Jungkook, calm down. You’re going too fast for her to answer.” said Namjoon. “Did you enjoy the concert (Y/N)? We wanted you to be comfortable but thought putting you in VIP would make you irritated.”

“Well, I only caught the middle of Mikrokosmos and to be honest,” you said as they got nervous, “HOME is now officially my new favorite song.”

“Really? You liked it?”Namjoon asked. You nodded. “My favorite vocals were Jimin, V, and you, Namjoon.”

As the guys talked amongst themselves, you glanced a saw a lone figure standing far from the group. Your grin turned sour as you two made eye contact. “H-Hey (Y/N).” The group turned to see your reaction. You turned your attention back to Yeontan still in your arms and looked at V.

“V, where’d you find this cutie? He’s so adorable!”

Deciding not to make the situation awkward, he answered. “Oh, I got him back in 2017. He is adorable huh?”

“Um… (Y/N)-”

“Where do you find time to take care of him? Ooh! Does he tour with you guys? Like a secret member or something?”

“(Y/N)-”

“Hehe, unfortunately no. He lives with my parents for now because of my busy schedule.”

“Ah, I see. I did see that on Twitter. He lived with you guys at first right?”

V nodded. “Yeah, but when J-Hope told us you’d come to the concert I thought you might want to meet him.”

You smiled and snuggled into Yeontan’s fur. “Well, I’m glad I came. And if you ever need a babysitter for this cutie--”

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not! From now on, he’s family. Plus, it might liven up my room to have a cute puppy in there before getting one of my own.”

“You’re thinking of getting a puppy?” asked Jimin.

You smiled. “Maybe.”

“You know,” spoke Namjoon, “it’s been forever since I’ve seen that smile.”

You felt your face. You were smiling. Why now? You looked down at Yeontan.

“My dog is magic!!” V shouted, hugging you.

You brushed him off and grinned. “Yeah, maybe he is…”

---

You stayed for a few minutes and talked and played with Yeontan all while avoiding a certain someone. You put Yeontan down and stood up.

“Well, I better get going. It’s pretty late…”

Jungkook shot up. “So soon?”

You nodded. “I’ve done a lot today and I forgot how much a concert takes out of me. I forgot how loud and rowdy they were. I’m exhausted.”

You yawned as you were saying goodbye Jimin caught your hand. “You’ll visit, right? I mean, will you be coming back anymore?”

Then Jungkook grabbed your other hand. “J-Hope hyung told us that maybe you’d open back up and hang out with us and eat dinner with us like you used to? Are you going back to avoiding us? Avoiding me?”

You felt a break in your heart. All those times they invited you out over the years you saw as a burden and troublesome for the awkward tension between you and Min Yoongi. When it fact, you had hurt them. You had moved 2 hours away from them. They wanted you and you were too selfish to even consider that you should just ignore the hatred in your heart for Min Yoongi.

“Well,” you said softly, “being here brought back a lot of memories. Some good, some bad. Listening to your music again, seeing your passionate faces, watching you guys have fun were one of the many enjoyments I had at your concerts. So…”

You let out a sigh and squeezed Jimin and Jungkook’s hand. “I can’t promise I’ll begin saying yes to outings. My anxiety has gotten really bad over the years and like I said, being here brought some bad memories. I also live far away. But… I would like to be here for you guys again…!”

The members consumed you in a group hug and you left saying goodbye to all but one.

---

As you walked down the street, away from the concert you felt a little happy. ‘Maybe the reason I didn’t want to go out was because of my anxiety. Maybe should’ve stayed with that therapist. I think I still have their number somewhere. Maybe I should give them a call for more meetings. No. I will call them. First thing in the morning.’

As you were having these thoughts, you had the feeling you were being watched. You glanced back and didn’t see anyone. ‘I really should head home. There are always creeps at this time of night.’ As you sped up the sound of shoes speeding up caught your attention. ‘It’s just your imagination. Just the dark playing tricks. There’s no one there.’ You glanced back but this time you saw a shadowy figure following right behind. Following your instincts, you immediately booked it. The person had the same idea and ran after you. Breathing heavy and the sound of harsh footsteps sent fear through you. Why?! Why was this person following you?! No-- chasing you?! A sasaeng fan?! The thought sent you running faster. As you made it towards a more populated area with cars, you glanced back. All of of sudden honking. A car’s headlights. You froze.

Suddenly, you pulled back onto the sidewalk as the car zoomed by. You whipped your head back to see Min Yoongi, panting and sweating.

“IDIOT! WHY DID YOU JUST STAND THERE?! DID YOU WANT TO GET HIT AGAIN?!” he shouted.

“IDIOT?! ME?! I WAS RUNNING TO GET AWAY AND I DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO--”

Wait. Panting. Sweating. Stage clothes still on. Hat and face mask sloppily thrown on.

“WHERE YOU FOLLOWING ME?! WHERE YOU THE ONE CHASING ME?!”

He went silent.

“Oh my god! You fucking stalker!”

“I’m not a stalker!”

“Oh really?! Let’s assess the situation. It’s nighttime and extremely dark. The only source of light from the stadium to the this main street is a bunch of street lights. Oh! And when I started running, the first thing out of your mouth wasn’t, “Hey (Y/N)!”. It was to run after me like some deranged psycho! Did I also mention IT’S NIGHTTIME! I bunch of fucking weirdos walk around and you expect me to know it was you!”

Your rant made Min Yoongi’s eyes widen and a few onlookers were staring as they passed by. “I-I didn’t think about that…”

You scoffed. “Oh, just like how you weren’t thinking when you told me to disappear and I got hit by that fucking truck? Or when you had the gall to show to the hospital and proclaim your love for me after all you said to my face?!”

He winced. “I said I was sorry--”

“Sorry doesn’t mean shit when your family thinks you should be on some kind of list and your best friends think that for the past 2 years they were the problem and that I was avoiding them! Don’t you realize what you’ve done?!”

You couldn’t stop them from coming. You had tried avoiding this and still the tears you swore to never show had reared its ugly head.

“D-Don’t you realize what your coldness has done to me…?” you hiccuped and sniffled. “I rarely go outside because I was afraid-- I am afraid that someone is going to hurt me and look down on me the same way you did! And then you have the nerve to save me this time, how dare you! How DARE YOU, MIN YOONGI! WHERE WERE YOU THE FIRST TIME!!”

The street grew quiet. Onlookers were now fully staring and little crowd had gathered. Whispering, pointing, gasping.

“You know… for the first time in years since my accident, I actually had fun today. I heard beautiful music, I got to see my closest friends, and I even smiled.”

You looked him in the eye. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve smiled?”

He didn’t answer.

“A really, really, really, really, long time.”

“(Y/N), I--”

“Save it, okay. I’ve spent way too long hating myself and hating everything because of you. Because of your coldness. I thought that if I behaved as cold as you, nothing would get too close to my heart and I wouldn’t be hurt anymore.”

“(Y/N), please--”

“But after seeing the pain of my friends faces, I’m done being cold. I’m done obsessing over my hatred over you. You’ve eaten up so much of my life before and even after my incident that I need to move on. I guess I never truly moved on, even after all that’s happened. I need to get my life back on track. I need to mend some fences that my coldness have frozen.”

You sighed and wiped your tears. “I’m done with you. Goodbye.”

You walked past the small crowd and made way home. You felt lighter. Better. All those emotions that you shoved and locked deep down came out and you couldn’t help but feel better. You’ve felt so many emotions today. Maybe you can feel something. Maybe it just took one emotion to overpower the others. Hatred. Sadness. Heartbroken. You remember the day of the incident. You felt such sadness and hatred that you didn’t want your tears to flow. Well, now they did. Maybe this is a good thing.

No-- this is a good thing.

- - -

holy shit. has it really been 2 years since the first one. okay! so! I know promised you guys like months ago that this shit would be out by the weekend but college has been absolutely kicking my ass. like holy shit. tbh i didn’t even think you guys liked the first one. but after seeing that people wanted a sequel here you go! i’m sorry that it’s so goddamn long. it’s been a while since i had to write about something else that wasn’t an essay. anyways, here you guys are! i think i might turn this scenario into a multi-part series, who knows. i will try to upload more consistent and give you guys more kpop scenarios and i might start doing reactions too. my ask box is open if you guys have any suggestions. later noonas and oppas. peace out!

#bts scenarios #suga #suga scenarios #suga angst #min yoongi #min yoongi scenarios #min yoongi angst #BTS kpop #bts armys #bts angst #slight fluff #fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #bangtang boys

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zecretsanta · 4 years

Text

A Purromising Start

To: @agentshilonglang From: @erisofimladris

I was so excited to see a Hanukkah prompt that I simply had to write this! It was a pawsome prompt and I’m wishing you a Hanukkah as happy as the Klim family, cat puns and all!

AO3 link

“Meowy Christmas,” said Sigma as he stood at the door, Phi’s cat Lambda weaving his way between Diana’s legs to greet the newcomer.

“Shouldn’t it be Happy Hanucat?” Diana asked, ushering him inside.

“Hamewkah sounds better to me,” Phi’s voice called from the kitchen, where the smell of onions and the sound of frying potatoes wafted out.

Sigma laughed. “Does she need a helpurr in there?” he asked, removing his jacket and draping it on the couch.

“I think she’s fine,” Diana said, guiding Sigma into the small living room that she’d decorated as best as she could. Blue and white lights hung from the ceiling, an electric menorah sat in the window, and an actual one sat on the table for later. But both Phi and Sigma had wanted to come while the sun was still up, and Diana wasn’t about to say no to her brand-new family.

Hanukkah was, after all, a celebration of impossibility. The outnumbered Maccabees won the war, the oil stayed lit for eight days. It was equally impossible for Diana to be hosting this party for a family she didn’t know she had until her time in Dcom, for her to have a daughter who was too close to her own age to be real. And yet, it was all real. It was all too fitting, really, that this would be their first celebration as a family.

They didn’t feel like a real family, not yet. They hadn’t even known each other for a year - it was shortly after Hanukkah last year when they all went to Dcom, not knowing each other, and now they were trying to make things work like the family existed forever. Sigma was more like a boyfriend than a husband, even though she suspected he had more in mind. She hadn’t caught the bouquet at Akane and Junpei’s wedding, but she had the feeling she would be getting married before long to the usually goofy but sometimes deadly serious man who was now in the kitchen annoying their daughter. He’d mastered dad jokes in a remarkably short time, but she still wondered if Phi felt she was good enough at being a mother.

She wasn’t even cooking, although she had been until Phi and the cat arrived to her little apartment. It felt homier with her there, far homier than last year when her abusive ex was “celebrating” with her. Now, at least, she could relax.

“I think they’re ready,” Phi said, emerging from the kitchen with a plate between her hands. It looked so domestic, so authentic, with the steam coming up from the potato pancakes, almost like they’d been doing this forever.

But as they sat down, Diana realized she hadn’t passed this recipe to Phi like mothers were supposed to do, nor did she even know where the mix of spices came from. Staring down at her plate, she scooped out the applesauce and let Sigma taste the latkes first.

“I like these a latke,” Sigma said, and even with everything else going on in her head, Diana couldn’t help but chuckle.

“No cats were harmed in the making of this dish,” Phi rolled her eyes.

“That one wasn’t mandatory,” Sigma agreed. “It just had to happen.”

“I don’t know about that,” Phi said, finishing off her first latke.

“Maybe it’s time to play dreidel,” Diana said hesitantly. She knew that they enjoyed bickering, but sometimes it still felt like things were about to turn into a real fight. She smiled sheepishly as Sigma got up and got the small plastic top from the kitchen, with Hebrew letters on each of the four sides, then passed it to Diana.

“Ladies first,” Sigma said, plopping a face-up hat between them to be the pot, adding one piece of chocolate gelt, and then giving them ten each.

“What does that make me, chopped liver?” Phi asked jokingly as Diana leaned down, rolling the dreidel.

“Nun,” she said. Nothing happened when the dreidel fell on a Nun. It was easy enough to pass the dreidel to the left, where Phi sat cross-legged on the floor, snacking.

She spun with more of a flourish than Diana expected, and it landed on -

“Hey,” Phi said, both an exclamation of mild annoyance and the letter on the dreidel. “Half doesn’t mean much when it’s just the one in there.”

“What happens if there’s only one piece of gelt in the pot, anyway?” Sigma asked as Phi reached in, rolling the chocolate coin between her fingers.

“We put another in so the pot isn’t empty, but Phi gets to keep it - at least that was how it was done when I was little,” Diana said, hoping she wasn’t being too overbearing, but both Phi and Sigma accepted her situation. He fished another piece of gelt out of the big bag in the corner and plopped it in the pot, then made his move.

“Nun again… you’ve gotta be kitten me,” Sigma said, passing it to Diana, taking care to ensure their hands met over the plastic toy.

Diana blushed slightly, rolling the dreidel into the plate of latkes. “Shin,” she said at the same time as Sigma said, “That doesn’t count.”

“Sure it doesn’t,” Phi said sarcastically.

“I’m fine to put one back,” Diana said, reaching into her pile before passing the dreidel to Phi. She smiled at Sigma, appreciating how he was trying to look out for her, even if she wasn’t about to start their family gathering by cheating.

“Hey,” she said, picking up one of the pieces out of the pot, then counting hers. “Twelve for me - looks like I’m winning.”

“Not so fast,” Sigma said, catching the dreidel when she tossed it (just like a real dad, just like Diana’s dad always did) and spinning.

Diana relaxed more as the turns went on, as the pot grew bigger and their own piles grew smaller, as did the plate of latkes. When the last one was done, the table became charged, but in a good way - the next person to roll a gimel, according to Phi’s rules, would be the winner.

It was close, once, when Lambda jumped up on the table and batted at the dreidel, and Phi exclaimed that “that was going to be a gimel!” and scowled when Sigma called her reaction “amewsing.” And it was too easy for Diana to see how this might have looked if they were a family from the beginning, Phi as a young redhead looking like her own little sister trying to skew the results in her favor, Sigma the calm force of reason keeping chaos from erupting.

(She tried as hard as she could to not think of a little redhead boy sitting between her and Sigma, for both the grief and the fact that she had no idea how her ancient, scheming son would play dreidel.)

Sigma rolled again - a shin, reducing his number to five (not counting one he’d eaten, saying it was a family tradition of his to eat when the first gimel was rolled a while back), before Diana took the dreidel again.

It rolled and rolled before landing on gimel.

“Meowzel tov,” Sigma said, flipping one of his coins into the pot as Phi did the same.

“I guess there’s no point in SHIFTing to the timeline where I got the gimel,” Phi said, and it took Diana just a little too long to laugh.

“Looks like we have a winner,” he said, tipping the hat into Diana’s pile as she watched the foil-wrapped chocolate coins cascade down onto her plate.

“You don’t mind that we did these rules?” Diana asked Sigma, who had technically rolled the first gimel back when there were still latkes on the plate. He’d lost to a technicality; her ex would be furious.

“It’s tradition. What can I say?” he grinned, reaching over to pet Lambda as the cat snuck off with a small piece of leftover latke.

“Not your tradition,” Diana blushed.

“Yet,” he said. “We’re still making our family’s traditions.” He looked over at the window, where the sun was beginning to set. “And it seems like it’s time to make one more. Where are the candles?”

“I’ve got them,” Phi said, the two of them working in tandem to set up the menorah - at least until they started bickering over which direction to insert the candles and which to light them.

Diana could picture in her head, just as vividly as if she’d SHIFTed, the same scene with her and her sister when they were little, arguing over who was right based on Hebrew school or what their Bubbe said. In the end, she was fairly sure that they were lighting the candles in the wrong way, but something felt very right as she looked at the faces of her boyfriend-ish and sorta-daughter flickering in the candlelight. It might not be right, but it was them - their own family tradition, their first of many.

It was truly a happy Hanukkah.

#zero escape #zero time dilemma #agentshilonglang #erisofimladris #zecret santa 2019 #submission

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cozy-possum · 4 years

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Descendants but more Brother’s Grimm than Disney

Evie will be good and do what her mother says, she will talk how her mother says, when her mother says, she will wear what her mother says, she will eat what her mother cooks, she will not question where the fresh meat comes from, why they always have organ meat but no other kind, she does not speak to to others about it as her mother told her not to; Auradon meat tastes different because it’s fresh is what she tells herself. Evie knows what Mal marrying Ben means, it means being queen, it means starting a family, it means Evie taking it from her, when she looks at Mal’s daughter and sees only what should have been her best friend grinning back, only then does she understand what her mother set in motion

Jay has dreams beyond himself, he has thoughts that aren’t his own, he exists on another plane from everyone, he seems to move silently or too quick to be human, he can take something in broad daylight in a crowded street and no one bats an eye; he hides the shackles around his ankles, he hides the knowledge of things he’s never seen, everyone knows not to comment that he floats two inches above the ground, sometimes his legs lock up and he collapses, he has nightmares of being trapped under the shelves, and in the cabinets his father used to have him sleep in

Mal’s skin shimmers in the light, her eyes are slitted and she has the beginning of horns spiralling from her head, her wings are non-existent, a kindness her mother had cooed, plucking the feathers out and slicing the flesh away she doesn’t tell her mother they’re growing back, her mother knows and clips them back monthly, her horns are sawed and filed down; when Mal goes to Auradon, when she unfurls her wings that have been left grow does she understand why her mother clipped them, they dwarf her mother’s wings by two, a testament to how much power she holds. As her magic grows so does her dragon form, the fire she spits now a blazing blue and a chill of death about it.

Ben has fangs and claws when he sleeps, when the magic dampening the Fairy Godmother put over him loses its hold, he wakes after nightmares gashes in his arms and lips and tongue raw and bleeding. When he gets so angry his own nature overrides the spells and enchantments, when he lashes out and snarls at his family, at his friends, he can’t help the fear that shakes him out of it; how his friends stiffen and flash into furniture as they stumble back in terror at how his face and body twist. He’s learned not to scream when the changes happen, no matter how much it doesn’t make the pain go away and he can’t even cling to his mother for comfort, the last time he did, the breaking of his bones had caused him to sink his claws into her leg; she still bears the scars, Ben hates the whispers he hears from his father, how his father had never hurt Belle like that, how Ben was dangerous.

There are no dogs on the Isle, no rabbits or cats, no wolves or even large birds, no animals that would be useful, Carlos knows this firsthand, his mothers hundreds of coats confirm it. Carlos is confused when one of the staff take the broom from him; when they assure him they can handle the broken vase and he can go back to bed; Carlos hesitates and when Fairy Godmother shows up he’s shaking in fear swallowing his own words as he points to the shards of the vase. He doesn’t understand why Fairy Godmother offers him a hug and there’s no trace of anything mad or upset in her voice as she tells him to go to his room. He doesn’t fear dogs as Ben thinks he does, he finds himself waking to wrap dude up in blankets to hide him in the closet when he hears footsteps down the hall. He waits for Ben to take Dude back to comment how Carlos isn’t enough. He waits and he waits and he waits; all Ben does is return him and Dude to his bed when he finds them in the closet.

Chad doesn’t tell of how his father runs the house like a kingdom, how his mother is queen, how he promised she’d never work again so its only natural her son do the work.He doesn’t tell of the mice he talks to, the only ones who sit with him after school and help with homework, the ones who cook him food and offer him bedtime stories. He doesn’t talk of how he spends nights at Fairy Godmother’s curled next to Jane on her bed while his parents are out once more partying. He doesn’t mention what happens if he stays at home, how much his parents ignore him, throwing money at him to soothe there annoyance of his neediness. Fairy Godmother assures him wanting warm dinner is not needy but still he doesn’t complain when his mother offers him the leftovers from the dinner they’d gone to without him.

Jane is not a real girl, she knows this, at midnight she can feel the spells and the enchantments her mother has placed on her growing thin, weaker; her mother withholds them when Jane is bad, she wonders what would happen if her mother stopped them as she twirls the wind up key in her hand. She doesn’t remember what if anything she was before her mother woke her up. She’s not entirely sure what she’d go back to being, she has no desire to try and when her mother starts speaking of beauty being on the inside, about the outside not mattering Jane wonders if it extends to the cracks on her body when she trips and falls, to the scuff marks that appear on her skin as if she was porcelain. she watches the wand wondering if such a small thing really can have so much power over her, whenever she gets near it the hairs on the back of her neck prickle up and she decides not to risk it.

Uma loses her voice more often than not, Harry finds the necklace crammed in the back drawer of the shop the don’t speak of it, only learning sign language so it no longer stays a punishment, when she swims it takes her a moment to adjust, on the Isle she does not gain her mother’s legs, instead gaining gill’s and webbing that helps her swim a little deeper than she should. She finds the underwater creatures more than kind to her, the eels often leave her small fish, pilled and pinned down by rocks. Her singing voice is almost silent; she barely whispers songs and the melody is in other’s heads faster than she can get the words out; she finds herself able to call out to the souls on the Isle, welcoming them onto her ship, they view her as the lighthouse, a beacon of safety never realizing she’s trapping them inside the rocks.

Harry’s skin blisters and cracks when he swims too deep, his flesh giving way to scales and gills, his legs collapsing into one; he can swim deeper than Uma and doesn’t talk about what he sees in the caverns only bringing back pearls and gold after he drags traitors down. When he dives down into the pitch black his freckles and scars illuminate in a pulsing myriad of colours. His teeth stay sharp and endlessly replenish whenever he gets them knocked out. Despite the red he wears and how flashy he can act, there are weeks and months the Isle goer’s cannot notice him for how he camouflages in the background of their lives.

Gil is the strongest, the quickest too, he knows how to overpower anyone just by a glance, anyone who comments how he flinches at noises or when someone moves too fast don’t last long without finding out just how fast and strong he can be. He’s always hungry, fingers twitching and pulling over others half finished leftovers and plates; he’ll scrounge anything from anyone if they turn away from him long enough for him to grab it. Everyone knows not to try to take the food from him, it’s the closest he’ll get to making his father proud, the anger, the terror he’s allowed to display, knowing they can’t overpower him, that he’s stronger for once runs rampant in his brain, he hates how he can do this so effortlessly and he refuses to show it, hiding anywhere he can to eat, to avoid scaring everyone away

Audrey cannot sleep at night, it’s her body’s way of mocking what happened to her family, what’s meant to happen to her, she can’t help how she lays awake, she can’t help replaying the days events over and over; she tired of that after the first hour; then she starts her school work, but that only lasts two more hours and then drawing can only be done so long before her eyes start to blur and she can’t hold a pencil; she doesn’t remember falling asleep and with how she can look around her room she’s not sure if she actually sleeps anymore, still she has nightmares, hallucinations of dragons and fights. She screams when she feels magic burning against her, the stinging as the needle seems to drill into every pore in her skin assuring her she’ll finally fall asleep, her parents explain away her worries, they can not explain the burns from dragon fire that they have to wrap and let heal. Audrey spins her own yarn, she weaves the threads she makes creating images that have passed too quietly that she had not heard of them spoken, yet she gets each stitch perfectly as if she was there and saw it herself.

It starts slowly for Doug, the work he does for his family leading him deeper and deeper underground until he forgets the sun, until Evie brings him from the mines his lungs coated black, his eyes filmed over and his hearing so sensitive Evie has to whisper to him; how unnaturally he’s drawn to shimmering things, how he can almost taste the rarity of jewels simply by breathing around them. He can always tell a fake and never lets Evie have less than real. He hums a soft melody something that seems to call the gems to him, It’s never ending how his pockets and room are overrun with the smallest crystalized sections of rocks. How his skin is almost as hard as the stones, Evie swears it cracks and fissures instead of bruises and scabs.

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hypmicwritingbutbad · 5 years

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What if back when TDD was still together each member took turns babysitting Ichiro and Samatoki's siblings? Also tysm for that bb vacation headcanon asdlkasdfnasdlf;kasdf >

Heya! I’m really glad you like the BB vacation headcanons aaaaa they were real refreshing to write!

NOTE: Since this is TDD era, ages here go roughly as such: Ichiro (15), Jiro (13), Saburo (10), Samatoki (21), Samatoki’s sister (10-12), Jakurai (31), Ramuda (20)

Ichiro

Samatoki would likely go to him first if he had to get his sister a babysitter

Mostly because of their senior-junior relationship, and also cause he knows Ichiro has two younger brothers (with the youngest being round his sister’s age too)

When he drops his sister off, he’d glare at Ichiro with the deadliest eyes and warn him of the dire consequences if anything happens to her (rip ichiro)

Ichiro would initially be very cautious and overly-antsy around imoutoki

But he’d definitely warm up to her quickly once he sees how nervous she is around him and his brothers too

Saburo and Jiro would watch enviously from the background as Ichiro’d play dolls with her

They wouldn’t approach her until Ichiro calls them over

But they’d refuse to interact with her, so Ichiro would just continue to play with her as the two of them huddled together

Eventually, they’d cave in from the pressure— partly cause their beloved Ichinii isn’t paying them any attention, partly cause they feel bad that they’re excluding this shy little girl, partly also cause the games just look so fun

And so the three Yamada Bros would just play game after game after game: house (imoutoki being the mom, saburo being the dad, ichiro the grandmother and jiro ~unwillingly~ being the baby), hide and seek (with ichiro hiding in the most obvious places on purpose), dolls (feat a highly dramatised re-enactment of a typical scene from a soap opera)

Once they’ve tired out Jiro, Saburo and imoutoki would fall asleep huddled together while Ichiro cleans up their now-disheveled apartment: his back sore and aching, his voice hoarse from all the over-enthusiastic yelling but with a huge smile on his face nonetheless

And eventually when Samatoki arrives up to pick his sister up, his heart melts a little when he sees the rosy flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes

“I haven’t seen her have this much fun in years. Maybe it’ll do her some good to hang with your bros sometime again in the future… I’ll give you credit for this one, kid— but don’t get too cocky, ya hear me!?”

Samatoki

Ichiro would have always told Jiro and Saburo good things about his delinquent-senpai-idol Samatoki

…but when they actually see him in person for the first time it’d be safe to say that they’d be terrified

Samatoki’s apartment would likely be small and messy, so the two of them would sit awkwardly on the edge of the sofa

Huddled together, with Saburo clinging onto Jiro for dear life (and surprisingly, Jiro doesn’t mind too much— or perhaps he’s just too scared to notice)

Samatoki would sit cross-legged opposite them, silent and glaring

With imoutoki between the two parties, shuffling awkwardly in her seat

And this continues for what seems like hours until imoutoki pulls at Samatoki’s shirt and says “lunchtime”

So Samatoki brings all the kids to the kitchen where he seats them at their small dining table and starts cooking

He’d start off by frying chicken skewers, then mixing sauces to make a light teriyaki glaze. While that’s cooking he’d begin chopping carrots, leeks and onions with surprising speed and precision into little flowers

all while imoutoki hums happily as she waits for another one of her big bro’s feasts, all while saburo and jiro watch with their mouths hanging open because who knew Samatoki could cook??

He’d leave the onigiri for last and when he does, he calls all the kids to help him with it

So they spend ages shaping the rice into different shapes, laughing as sticky rice gets all over their hands and face and clothes

When Ichiro comes to pick them up, they’re only starting to eat (because it took hours to get the rice off the floor and each other) so he joins them as well

And Samatoki sends them home with enough leftovers to last them a few days

Ramuda

Imoutoki

When Samatoki asks TDD if anyone’s free to babysit his sister, Ramuda’s hand would be the first to shoot up to volunteer

On the day itself, Ramuda would greet her with a huge hug and she’d be startled

Because this man is around her oniichan’s age, yet he’s only a few inches taller than her??

Ramuda would have a whole assortment of activities planned in advance because he’d have been looking forward to this day ever since he heard Samatoki had a little sister

He’d spend hours doing her hair, sewing her new clothes, even pampering her with light makeovers fitting of a girl her age

Letting her dress up and feel pretty for once– an opportunity she’s always wanted but never asked for because she knows Samatoki tries his best already and doesn’t want to trouble him any further

All the while he’d chat to her like an old friend: asking her about school, what pop idol she’s into, which type of sweet tastes best with which kind of tea

And at the end of the day, Samatoki would nearly drop dead when he comes to pick his sister up and sees her all dolled up

He’d probably cry a little thinking that she’s growing up too fast

Saburo and Jiro

Ramuda would seize the opportunity to babysit Jiro and Saburo, claiming that he’s always wanted little brothers

But they’d have heard things about the infamous Ramuda and his clingy ways from Ichiro, so they’d formulate plans to evade him as much as possible

Jiro would likely be rushing around Ramuda’s apartment trying to escape from his clutches of frill and satin, Saburo would hide away in the most obscure of places (and finding Ramuda’s secret stash of lollipops) and Ramuda would eventually collapse onto his sofa, uncharacteristically exhausted

He’d lie there, seemingly asleep, for a long time

Until Jiro and Saburo, out of both curiosity and guilt, are baited out to check and see if he’s alright

…He’d then jump out, tackling them both to the ground and tickling them to no end as they shriek and struggle

This match would continue for hours on end until they collapse into a sweaty, laughing pile on the fluffy pink carpet in Ramuda’s living room

….Ichiro would come to pick them up, find them fast asleep in the same spot and end up putting Ramuda to bed too before carrying his sleeping brothers all the way back home

Jakurai

Imoutoki

Jakurai’s house is likely filled with all sorts of medical reports and supplies unsuitable for kids to play in, so he’d take her out instead

Most likely to the aquarium, where there’s much to be learned

(Sensei is single and thus knows little about raising kids but he’s all about teaching them new things, like healthy foods to eat or how not to get cavities idk)

Imoutoki would be amazed by all the different types of fish drifting about like seven-colour-flags, the

And if she had trouble seeing due to the crowds, Jakurai would lift her up on his shoulders to give her the best view of all

Though he has to be careful to make sure she doesn’t bump her head on the ceiling

Halfway they’d be stopped by a few middle-aged aunties who’d tell him, “Oh my, what a cute daughter you have!” and “It’s so nice to see a father spending time with his child on a quiet weekend like this.”

He’d try to correct them first, but after seeing the bashful look in imoutoki’s eyes and remembering the Aohitsugi family situation, he’d simply smile and say “Yes, I’m very aware of that.”

When Jakurai drops her back home at the end of the day and she’s waving goodbye, she’d tell Samatoki to “Say bye-bye to Father too”, which would confuse him greatly

Saburo and Jiro

Jakurai would go over to the Yamada bros’ apartment to watch over them for Ichiro

Jiro and Saburo would likely be very wary of this giant of a man at first due to his long hair, towering figure and stern-looking face

He’d see them hovering in the distance, like cats on edge

But the moment he smiles at them in that gentle fashion of his, they’d instantly warm up to him

Having Jakurai smile at you would be like having an angel’s face shine down upon you… anyone’d be at ease lmao

The boys would spend the rest of the day showing Jakurai around

Jiro would be eager to bring him outside and show him all his ‘treasures’ and ‘landmarks’: the rock in the backyard where they buried their pet goldfish, the secret spot to the north of the entrance where the ladybugs thrive, even the hidden nest of bush warblers on the fourth branch of the highest tree

Saburo would be more hesitant, but he’d shyly approach Jakurai with a thick book and quietly mumble something along the lines of “I’d like you to read this to me… please.”

Of course it’d surprise Jakurai to see a 10 year-old with a book with the title “1001 Lessons in Social Psychology” , but Ichiro DID tell him that his youngest brother was a prodigy

Near the end, Jakurai would bring out a cooler box of Super Cup ice cream he prepared in advance as a secret treat

But Jiro and Saburo’d insist on saving their portions for Ichinii as well

By the time Ichiro comes home, the ice cream is melted and Jakurai looks apologetic, but he eats it nonetheless

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypnosis mic division rap battle #hypmic headcanons #hypmic imagines #hypmic scenarios #headcanons #the dirty dawg #tdd #yamada ichiro #yamada saburo #yamada jiro #aohitsugi samatoki #imoutoki #jinguji jakurai #amemura ramuda #fluff #siblings #babysitting

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moonaft · 6 years

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Rosemary and Rue - Reread

Finally caught up on the series - now to go back and see what I missed before.

Contains spoilers for the series up to The Brightest Fell and the June 2018 Patreon short stories. All the spoilers. So many spoilers.

One hour before the pond - Toby is staking out Simon and enough hints are dropped that something bad comes of it.

Hi Oleander - have we met another Peri in the series? I guess they are anti-social enough to stay out of Toby’s radar.

Why doesn’t Toby know for certain that Simon was involved with the underworld before this? He’s been called a villain since at least the 50s and his magic’s been rotten oranges instead of cider for just as long. I guess the purebloods besides Sylvester and Evening aren’t talking to her.

So all of this was meant to draw October out without giving her allies to draw on - Sylvester’s out of the picture and not in any place to look for her - so that she’s taken out. What did Evening think when Simon turned her into a fish instead of killing her? Toby’s out of the picture - and maybe that’s enough, especially if she dies as a fish.

How long do koi fish live? Did Simon’s transformation help there? Why does he even have such good transformation magic - he should have blood magic and illusions. Transformation is Maeve’s domain. I guess he gets to branch out - transforming Toby’s shoes in TBF never did wear off, and he did turn Patrick’s suit into something more suitable for the party in a short story.

~14 years later~

Apparently we meet the Luidaeg now when Toby’s working as a checkout girl. Did she know of things that were coming? Wanted to see her niece? Is she in her ‘Cousin Annie’ disguise? Toby isn’t paying enough attention to tell me

Hi Mitch - do we ever figure out what Stacy’s fae heritage is? Is it too faint? How exactly do they end up with two Seer daughters? Is Stacy all she claims to be?

I am not sure why Toby is so utterly convinced that people seeing one pointed ear is going to betray Faerie - people will ignore and forget about much weirder things. Chelsea managed to get by fine for 16 years.

Tybalt! I don’t recall if we know how they met. Does October even know Tybalt’s history with the Torquill family, or even that he’s of the same generation-ish with them? She definitely doesn’t know about September yet, or that Tybalt was friends with the three of them, or anything else going on in London in the 17th century.

Did Tybalt know that Simon’s her step-father? He must have. The amount of information her allies don’t bother to tell her is amazing. And why didn’t she investigate Simon more? Any amount of digging would have turned up that relationship.

Hi Quentin, your life is never going to be the same.

Interesting that the first description of Amandine we get describes her as a liar. Amandine the Liar. I guess she really did want a human daughter, one that wasn’t going to get involved in Faerie. If it wasn’t for Toby resisting her attempts to make her human, she might have gotten that.

And now it’s her Changeling Choice - that the Luidaeg told Sylvester about. Is October named after August, or is she named after September? Explains why Sylvester flinches at her name. There is so much that October didn’t know then.

Are Moving Days ever explained? I guess it’s either May 1/November 1 or February 1/August 1 for when the courts moved from Maeve to Titania and back. Beltane is a celebration in Faerie, so it’s probably May/November.

June 9, 1995 to June 11, 2009 - I don’t know if those dates have meaning beyond Toby’s time in the pond. Also, does basically everyone in Faerie who cares knows she was there?

Why would Sylvester’s phone number have changed in that time? Why is Evening so nice to October? Is it part of of her con? Her past actions as described in this book don’t match anything else that come later. Early book weirdness?

Does October know that Cagney and Lacey are spying for Tybalt? Also, what is this about October finding Evening’s sister’s killer? Clearly that wasn’t another Firstborn. Did Eira just fit herself into some other family - but that wouldn’t explain the last name. Someone she convinced everyone else she thought was a sister? This book has so many questions. Evening plotting the destruction of the false Queen’s court? When she was instrumental in getting that queen on the throne? Getting Toby knighted?

This doesn’t make sense with her motivations later on - and I trust the Luidaeg and Simon with their explanations far more than I trust Evening. I think I will chalk it up to the first book and if it doesn’t appear in another book, it never happened.

Wait, dammit. Her sister’s name is Dawn, and Tybalt (or Patrick, I can’t remember) explicitly mentions a Daoine Sidhe by that name later. No last name given. Who are you, Dawn? If Evening’s pretending to be a regular Daoine Sidhe, fitting in with an existing Daoine Sidhe family is a good way to go.

“Even Sylvester, the most ‘human’ pureblood I’ve ever known’ - oh October, by TBF you definitely know enough to sense watermarks in people’s blood - you can see that Maida was once a changeling before the hope chest. Did you never think to re-examine your assumptions once you developed new powers? True, I’m sure that the twins were made pure-blooded soon or immediately after birth, but still. There were enough rumors that Tybalt figured it out.

Does August know? Did she think to look?

What’s up with Evening’s human body? Did she convince the night-haunts to leave one and just got up and left after healing? The night haunts didn’t actually eat her bullet-ridden body because she doesn’t show up in the flock later. Maybe she did what April did to get January back?

I guess some of these spoilers are meaningless without context because that last sentence makes no sense without April’s short story.

I thought Oberon’s lines had the blood magic? Why does Toby think everyone but the Daoine Sidhe get it from Maeve’s lines? Or does she not know about that yet?

What is October going ‘to end at last’? What mockery? Her being a changeling? Clearly Evening knew what was going on and meant for her to find the hope chest. If Toby is completely human, maybe whatever destiny is in Amandine’s line is gone. Since Evening can’t harm Toby directly, pushing her in the human world and away from Faerie does basically the same thing. Maybe.

Was working with Devin and the other changelings a contingency plan in case Toby came back from the pond? A way to get her human?

As far as the false Queen goes, I get why Toby never thought about her ascension. There wouldn’t be any rumors in 2009 that the Queen and King Gilad didn’t share a common race, and Toby didn’t know anything about Gilad. Clearly Mags did, and probably the Torquills, but it wasn’t worth talking about.

That is interesting timing - everyone says August disappeared in 1906, and Simon was working with Evening by the time of the earthquake in April 1906. That is at most 4 months to exhaust all other options and sell your soul to the devil.

I am concerned that going to Blind Michael for help is even a consideration. Who are the Tarans of the Berkeley Hills? Do they ever get mentioned again?

Also concerned that Toby can’t tell what blood Devin has.

Were the hope chests made to make the fae races ‘pure’? Who sired the Daoine Sidhe with Evening? Amandine pulled every trace of Daoine Sidhe from August before she was born so August was ‘pure’ Dóchas Sidhe but that wouldn’t work for other races. Do it enough times and you have enough for a population.

Tybalt, you know that hope chests exist. Are you just surprised to see Toby with one? Maybe that backstory hasn’t been developed yet.

Hi again Quentin. Hi Connor. Hi Raysel - I liked you better when you were elf-shot.

Have we found out how Luna and Raysel got out of Simon’s hidden bubble? I don’t think we have. Does Raysel and Connor know that Simon’s her stepfather? I like how Raysel calls her ‘failure’ just like the Luidaeg calls Simon ‘failure’.

Does Sylvester’s allergy to cats extend to Cait Sidhe? Do purebloods normally get allergies, or is this leftover, like Maida’s scars?

There is no indication that they were as upset by Dawn’s murder as they are by Evening’s.

And Toby is covered in blood for the first time! All of it hers.

Hi as-yet-unamed Marcia! Toby can’t make out your blood - are you really a thin-blooded changeling, or something else?

How exactly does Lilly know Amandine? Did she always know who Amandine was?

Hi Julie, hi Ross - you were gone too soon.

Toby’s passing out again, yep.

How exactly did Devin save the Luidaeg from burning? She’s been in the city forever. I’d say he was lying if she didn’t confirm it. Definitely lying when he said he called Sylvester though.

I will say that the Torquills and the Lordens don’t care about mixed marriages, but Raysel and Connor’s children would be interesting.

Is it adultery if your affair is with a changeling? Human is a definite no, but changeling?

Why does Goldengreen open on Amandine’s name and not Evening’s?

Oh, those times when Luna was friendly. I miss those times.

And Toby wasn’t paying enough attention at the register - the Luidaeg does have her customary face.

Rose goblins being “an accident on the part of a niece of mine” - Luna? Or one of her sisters?

Amandine trying to “fix matters on her own”, oh yes.

Goldengreen wasn’t the first hope chest, but it’s the one the Luidaeg had before it ended up with Evening. The first one was given to Eira? A half-blood child? Not really how I would describe her, so maybe it went elsewhere. Maybe to the first child who descended from both lines?

“It all came back to blood and roses” - Amandine’s magic. I forget what the other half of Eira’s magic is, the one that isn’t roses.

At least Devin gets to avoid Evening’s revenge by being dead.

Does Toby still visit Dare’s grave? The books don’t say. She does still have the knife though.

Done with Rosemary and Rue! On to Tamed Lightning with January and April.

There’s a lot in this book that sets up the series, but there’s a lot of pieces that don’t fit cleanly. What exactly was Evening up to with October and the kids from Home?

#october daye

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fishdavidson · 6 years

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Dream Journal 2017-12-27: Let Me Tell You About The Time I Hauled Around A Full-Sized Toilet Just To See What Would Happen

Humor flows in great abundance when weird stuff happens in my dreams and I become at least vaguely aware that I’m dreaming. It’s sort of a holy grail for me, because it all but guarantees that there will be some cool dream stuff to write about the next day. Anyway, this dream comes into focus during a holiday get-together.

My family and a few close friends are gathered together for a potluck meal in honor of some holiday that I believe was called “Christmas In July” because it was happened when it was really freaking hot outside. Everyone is supposed to bring a dish to share at the meal, but that’s the only rule the guests have to follow. I’m bringing a breakfast casserole, but I feel like should make the dish stand out somehow.

At this point, I’m partially aware that I’m dreaming and thus decide to cook this casserole in a full-size toilet just to see if anyone would notice. Don’t worry about it being unsanitary, though, because Partially-Aware-Fish-Davidson is more than partially-aware when it comes to the threat of bacterial contamination. The toilet was disconnected from any plumbing, cleaned, cleaned again, sterilized with alcohol and a UV light (yes, seriously), and then baked in the oven for an hour to kill off any residual contaminants. The casserole is prepared normally and then dumped into the toilet bowl to be kept warm (because it just came out of the oven).

I show up to the party with a casserole-filled toilet under my arm, hauling it around like it was a case of beer. People notice the toilet immediately, which is not surprising when you’re thinking with an awake brain but still a pretty iffy proposition for an asleep brain. Everyone asks me the question that will be a recurring motif for the rest of the dream:

“Why are you carrying a toilet filled with food?”

The short answer is because I can, and also because I wanted to see if anyone would notice. I assured everyone that toilet casseroles are safe to eat and that this particular toilet was exceptionally free of pathogens, but most people politely declined to eat the food I brought. Ugh! Why did I even bother with breaking up the status quo with transgressive dinnerware in the first place? What a bunch of picky eaters!

After failing to get a rise out of my party associates, I’m still aware that I’m dreaming a bit. I’m also aware that I can still turn this into a funny story. Probably.

So I pack up my mostly-untouched toilet casserole and strike out for a local pub that’s open most holidays. Because I don’t like to be caught unprepared, I also bring along the entirety of my worldly possessions:

One Powerpuff Girls beach towel

One bucket of Tidy Cats Clumping Cat Litter (Specially Formulated For Households With Multiple Cats)

One plastic serving ladle

Several photographs of a sunset that I took the previous day while posing with a dinosaur hand puppet

Along the way, I run into my friends, “Oedipus Power” Zach (OPZ) and Jonathan, outside what used to be a Pizza Hut. Because I know so many different Jonathans, I’m gonna call him “Chicken Bucket” because he really likes that poem. Both OPZ and Chicken Bucket have been working out at the gym and they’re looking pretty buff. Even though it’s been several years since we last saw each other, we don’t do much catching up. Chicken Bucket’s first question is “Why do you have a casserole in your toilet?”

Chicken Bucket knows my weird shenanigans too well to question why I would be carrying a toilet, but the possibility that I may be wasting food is a serious problem to a bunch of guys who have not yet unlearned the lessons of being a broke-ass college student. I tell him it’s because I was trying to see if anyone would notice and because I’m curious to see just how far I can push this toilet casserole gimmick before I get in trouble. Also I tell him that this toilet is my “Chicken Bucket” poem and I love this toilet and nobody’s gonna take it away from me.

Across the street from us, there is a convenience store that sells chocolate, motor oil, energy drinks, and freelance journalism degrees. OPZ and Chicken Bucket suggest that we should all go buy some candy from there and see if the cashier notices my toilet. Truly I have supportive friends.

But I don’t have any money with which to buy candy, since a wallet was not included in my list of worldly possessions. I briefly consider stealing candy by putting it in the tank of the toilet, but decide against it because theft is morally wrong and disproportionately impacts small business owners (I swear to you, this actually happened). But I’m also aware of the concept of barter and I may be able to acquire candy by trading other things besides money.

“Why are you carrying a toilet?” the guy at the cash register asks me.

I answer his question with another question: “How much casserole do you want for this candy bar?” Then I ladle a few scoops of casserole directly onto the countertop. The cashier doesn’t protest, so I’m assume this was a fair trade and pocket the candy without guilt. Chicken Bucket and OPZ have stuff to do elsewhere and leave me to my own devices shortly after exiting the store.

The pub is only a few blocks away by now, and I like this pub in particular because they offer free nachos to anybody who walks through the door. I especially like this pub now that I don’t have a wallet and casserole bartering is the only avenue of economic exchange available to me. I gorge myself on the free nachos and wait for people to ask me why I’m carrying around a toilet.

As expected, the people of this town did not disappoint. They ask, and I tell them that I want to offer my leftover casserole to strangers. I may or may not have aggressively ladled it at them (my memory is hazy on this point, for personal and legal reasons). I spend the rest of the afternoon sitting in a booth next to the free nacho table, killing time until game night started.

My “Husband” shows up to play some weird-ass party game at the pub called Mage Stringer and it involves string, sorcery, a big touchscreen, some paper, and a lot of arm waving. I play along, too, because the endless flow of nachos has become less fulfilling after several consecutive hours of consumption. Somehow while performing the wild hand-waving required of this game, I managed to develop a serious cramp and ended up pulling a muscle in my groin.

It was only at this point that I woke up all the way and set about preserving this tale for all eternity with my wordsmithing prowess.

----------------

During the course of writing this post, I learned that there is actually a restaurant in Taiwan called “Modern Toilet” that serves all of its food in toilet-shaped dishes. I want to go eat there.

#modern toilet #chicken bucket #casserole #toilet #dream journal #dreams #fishdavidson #nachos #lucid #lucid dream #hof

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ahumanintraining · 7 years

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after

When the war is over, they return to Earth. —shallura. post-Zarkon. achronological. // also on ao3.

fifty words, fifty scenes — adopted from a list that @dragonshost challenged me to way back when. (i don’t have the link anymore, haha.)

the exercise was to write a single sentence containing each word, and i attempt to make a haphazard achronological story out of each sentence, and then an entire world out of fifty of those.

Nothing means frisky more to him than when she waltzes into the kitchen as he’s making breakfast, wearing nothing but her thin nightgown and a mischievous smile that stretches past the magenta marks of her eyes. She comes forward to kiss him good morning and he’s not sure if his heart jumps because of the sudden pop of the toaster or because of her wandering hands.

Ever the natural athlete, Allura quickly picks up all the sports that Earth can offer her — easily throwing the furthest pass, scoring a goal from the most acute angle, finishing a marathon with barely a sweat — but Shiro still thinks she’s best at catching his eye.

Shiro thought she would have a natural affinity for cats after spending ages with the Lions, but ten scratches and four bites later, he decides — as he wraps a bandaid around her finger — that maybe his plan to adopt the stray cat isn’t such a great idea after all.

She still misses her planet dearly — the pink-tinted sunrise of the second sun rising over the fuchsia horizon of blooming juniberry flowers — but when the soft white Earth sunlight stirs him quietly awake, the first thing he sees is her brilliant smile, and she thinks she can see the same morning in the rose of his cheeks.

She’s never been consistent about doing laundry and she is guilt free when it comes to borrowing his shirts after she runs out of clean clothes to wear. The extra-large white cotton v-neck with the coffee-stained hem is her favorite, and while that is the softest top he owns, he doesn’t mind because he loves how one of her shoulders sticks out from its wide collar.

The blaring morning five-thirty alarm makes them groan audibly, reminding them that they still have to get out of bed on weekday mornings to go teach at the Academy — even if they are retired heroes of the universe. The workday spares no one.

At first, it’s annoying to introduce herself since Earthlings aren’t familiar with the blend of consonants and vowels in Altean names like her own, but now it’s become a routine when they ask her to spell her name: He tells them, “You know, alluring — spelled just like how she looks.”

The hardest thing is keeping his lips off her flawless skin — especially as she slips between the sheets after a warm clean shower. He allows himself just a goodnight embrace and a kiss on the lips. Anything more and they would not get sleep.

This day is the hardest. And while with every passing year, his heart grows denser, growing small enough to hold easier in his chest, he still struggles to wear pride on his uniform in the face of the gravestones of two other men that should have earned the same badge of honor. She embraces him until his tears dry.

“Growing old together” seems romantic until even Allura’s nightly back massages aren’t enough for his lower back pain and Shiro admits to himself he needs extra foam for his side of his mattress to appease his aging body.

She never believed she would ever smile the way she smiled before her youth was stolen by the Galrans but it’s the littlest things — the melted chocolate on the tip of his nose, the way he can never not burn his toast in the morning, the sneeze that makes him spill water all over his shirt — that make her laugh and make her a believer.

He’s not a good dancer at all, but she’s doesn’t mind taking his hand and guiding him now, as how he held her hand and stayed alongside her when they were traveling across galaxies.

Perched on the eastern horizon are the constellations that he knows best. Tonight, he holds her hand up against the black night, add the new sparkle on her ring finger to the starry skies.

His obsession with her hair shows the most when she wakes in the morning and finds his nose buried into the back of her neck and the ends of her silver strands curled around his fingers.

She has a gift for getting the two of them out of work early and perhaps he could be a little jealous knowing she uses her brilliant smile and seductive wink on others aside from him, but he knows once they’re both pardoned to go home, she turns an even wittier smile and playful wink to only him.

Plaid shirts don’t suit him. She prefers his clothes on the floor.

Her skin is weak to the cold, and she insulates herself with an extra sheet, one extra sweater, and of course, his arm around her waist.

His judgement of time is always a little off when he’s with her — and when he rushes into his morning meetings and apologizes for his tardiness, his coworkers try not to mention that there’s still a deep maroon lip print over his left cheek.

Inequality didn’t end with Zarkon. The fight for more pay for her doesn’t come easy. They excuse the unequal salary to their combined investment through marriage but he briskly reminds them she deserves just as much, if not more than him.

The monarchy is long gone but he still treats her like a queen. But there are nights she asks him to take her like she doesn’t wear a crown on her head, and it’s these nights she appreciates his cold fingers and rough lips the most.

The purple pulse of his mechanical arm still makes curious noises in the middle of the night but she’s grown rather fond of the soft whirs of the gears that match the twitches of the rest of his body while he dreams.

Their firstborn crawls earlier than expected for the average human child, and it’s really only now when Shiro starts to ponder exactly how much Altean blood their kid has inherited.

Honestly the only foreseeable grievance he carries against Allura is that she always draped her towel over his bathroom hook and… well… he’s just a bit particular about where he leaves his towels.

A rebel at heart, Allura has no qualms about eating breakfast for dinner, and well, thank god because Shiro doesn’t know how to cook much beyond scrambled eggs or other variants of the dish.

The bedroom light makes her long hair shimmer like rivers of silver — his favorite, but even now as she climbs into bed to give him a kiss, her hair recently cut short, the ends of her clipped hair feather over his skin in ways that he can’t complain about at all.

Beach days are some of Shiro’s favorite — a long day of nothing but the sun, the ocean, making sandcastle-ships with his toddler, and Allura in a swimsuit.

It’s his cryptic answers to her incessant questions that gives it away — he’s planning something for their fifth anniversary, for sure.

He still wakes up in the middle of the night, dazed and confused, but she gives him a kiss to clear him from the disorientation and remind him that indeed, they are on Earth and that yes, everything is over.

One day on a whim, they decide to go underwater scuba diving, and for a moment while swimming through the colorful coral reefs and among schools of fish and exploring the aquatic underworld, it feels a little bit like they’re back on Voltron, discovering new worlds all over again.

While unpacking the rest of Shiro’s boxes into their new home, Allura discovers a mysterious small square dark-colored box with a ring in it — and it’s not until he’s down on one knee and she recalls a brief paragraph from her readings about American customs that she finally puts two and two together. Either way, she’s surprised.

As mischievous as Allura is, Shiro can always tell if when she has a scheme planned out in her head, but Allura is confident that there is there no way he can predict the surprise birthday party he has coming for him — not when Hunk and Pidge are the ones organizing it.

There’s a small valley between the mountains just a few miles north of where they live, where one day they looked at how beautifully the sun dipped below the horizon and decided that this is where they would choose to bury themselves when their time is up.

Allura returns home from a long day at work, only to find Shiro knocked out on the couch, having lost the battle against sleep while waiting for her to come home, the pale moonlight trickling in from the window making the white tuft over his forehead glow a dull gray.

She tries to remain cheerful when she sees the new stray cat that Shiro picked up off the streets, but memories of a destroyed closet — her clothes inside shredded to bits — and many broken dishes — including their kid’s favorite plate — from a past adoption keeps her smile tense.

Shiro has never fallen so deep into opposition with Allura — even with all those years in the same castle-ship — as he is now, trying to figure out what color white to paint the walls of their house. He insists an ivory white would be the best to match with the rest of their haphazardly acquired furniture, but she’s more a fan of the warm honey white. And neither of them are giving way.

Sometimes he thinks everything is so perfect that he must be living in a daydream… and then a cry from the crib stirs him back to reality.

Every now and then — and especially when Shiro comes by her workplace for a surprise visit — Allura’s powers slip out from under her control, causing a small brief gust of wind or a rapid burst of droplets from the water fountain, but Allura continues to insist that the mishappenings are just nearby sprites haunting the company building.

How can they be anything but heartbroken when they realize their secret stash of leftover Halloween candy was discovered by their very hungry, very voracious toddler?

Shiro can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy whenever he realizes that by the end of the week, their daughter has spent more time with her mother than with him, but his attempts to make up for lost father-daughter time are to no avail — their daughter simply does not appreciate baseball.

Their daughter’s first birthmark, a set of wings under her eyes in the same shape as her mother’s markings, appears just a few days after she is born — Allura sighs and presses a kiss to their daughter’s forehead, remarking to Shiro with a small smile that the color matched that of her late father.

On the fourth moon of their daughter’s birth, as per Altean custom, Allura drapes an amulet around their newborn’s neck — with a deep blue jewel inset that reminds Shiro of his wife’s eyes.

Sometimes after long business trips, they miss each other so much that when they kiss, they knock their lips clumsily into each other and Shiro ends up with a metallic taste on his tongue.

The nights are never long enough to spend as much time as they want in each other’s arms but she hopes that her goodbye kisses in the morning before they part for work imprint long enough on his skin to last for the entire day.

She teases him whenever his cheeks grow rosy from even the softest of alcoholic drinks, but quickly the harsh aftertaste of margarita salt in his mouth is replaced by her sweet kiss.

Allura’s first attempt at cooking Earth cuisine looked like a hybrid of Coran’s space goo and Lance’s last attempt at baking — except worse. It’s only after Shiro takes a courageous bite of her prepared meal when he finally admits that maybe, just maybe, he should stick to kitchen duty.

When Allura comes down with a case of the “space sneezies,” Shiro offers her honey ginger lemon tea exactly the way she likes it, even if it’s more honey than ginger, lemon, or tea.

It’s too bad that Shiro knows how strong Allura’s love for the bittersweet taste of dark chocolate is — she’s ended up going to all too many company mixers with him ever since.

They plant a small oak tree in their backyard when they move into their new home — it’s a bit far from the city where their children work, but just close enough for them to visit their grandchildren.

Their favorite version of their love story to tell is the one where Allura, with her dangerous Altean powers, bewitches him and they end up living happily ever after together — of course, that’s a lie, but the two of them always think it funny to see how strangers react.

After a long lazy afternoon rolling around in the green grass field, they end in each other’s arms. The buzz of excitement brings his inhibitions down, and Shiro asks if she wants to stay on Earth with him. She doesn’t tell him an answer — instead laughing at the clump of grass that’s stuck in his hair — but there’s a smile on her face that’s so genuine that he doesn’t need the words to know her answer.

#shallura #shiro x allura #shiro #allura #voltron #it's completely out of order #and doesn't have any substance to it but i needed a writing exercise of sort #haven't written in a while *sigh*#one day i'll stop feeling guilty about it #—shallura

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dandelliongirl · 6 years

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Family Christmas

And heaps of snow.

December has been a wild ride. After my JLPT exam I spent a few days celebrating Independence day with mum and relaxing. The last couple of weeks before submitting my thesis were super busy with proofreading and reformulating a lot of my text. It was a tight schedule but I got it all submitted on the 15th - albeit super hastily. I’ve been both relieved and stressed because I’m happy it’s out of my hands for now but I also fear the feedback I’m going to get. I just hope I won’t have to do anything drastic to it. I do aim for the highest possible grade because I got one from my BA thesis and I’ve kind of set up expectations from all the good feedback I’ve gotten during the process. I want it to be worth the effort and the hours spent.

Dance recital came and went. Did not screw up anything, although the sole of my pointe shoe did snap in the last official show on Sunday evening. We had one extra show on Monday and the stage was littered with torn newspaper where I had to do a bunch of really quick pique turns on the shoe with a broken sole. I’ve never feared pirouettes as much as I did then but somehow I managed and didn’t break anything. Basically all size 5½ shoes were out of stock so I’m going to get a text message to schedule a fitting sometime this or next week.

My ballet gals and I had a little pre-Christmas party where we planned a lot of fun variations for next spring. We’re hopefully doing a pas de quatre from The Awakening of Flora, and me and my friend are doing the pizzicato polka. It’s up to our teachers and rehearsal schedules at this point though. We kind of already ordered a test tutu though and we’re super excited. Fingers crossed it’ll work out.

Christmas week was busy with a thorough Christmas cleaning. I cleared our kitchen cupboards from random used batteries, empty bottles and computer parts, organized our tools and office supplies, organized our walk in closet and bedroom closet, did two loads of laundry, cleaned the toilet, washed the floors and aired out all rugs and textiles. It took me three days and was super exhausting but also cathargic. On the 21st me and my friend went to see Star Wars VIII The Last Jedi. I didn’t really like the movie because of all the death and destruction and dark themes although I can totally see why it has been highly acclaimed. It was objectively a good movie but I just wasn’t feeling inspired or happy after it, which totally has more to do with me being oversensitive rather than anything else. I’m used to playing Animal Crossing and avoiding the news, how do you expect me to see so much death, destruction and depression. The original trilogy is so much more playful and because of the physical effects and stage props and tin can droids it’s easy to see it’s a work of fiction. Modern movie tech makes everything hit too close to home I guess.

I’ve been playing literal hundreds of hours of Animal Crossing Pocket Camp this month. I’m level 37 right now and hunting down Fauna to add to my campsite. I just got Marshal invited yesterday and gosh I love him so much. What an ABSOLUTE cutie pie.♥ I just wish the campers would give out more cotton since all rustic, cute and natural themed items require cotton...

I spent 5 total days with mum and dad over the Christmas holidays. We spent Christmas eve traditionally watching TV, going to place candles for my grand aunts’ grave and memorial stone, going to the sauna and eating an amazing dinner prepared by dad. We had a starter of fish and salad, a main of beetroot casserole, pork with a cream and pepper sauce, sweet potato fries, caramellized red onion with carrots, and a desert of crème brûlée with a mulled wine topping. The only thing that broke tradition this year was coming to spend some time with the bunny and letting him roam free for a while.

I got some really cool gifts even though I wasn’t supposed to get anything besides the insanely nice and expensive Clavinova piano. Dad got me a rad shirt with a dabbing unicorn and some really nice bluetooth headphones. Mum got me all the things that I wished for: a book, a big light box with letters and symbols, and a glass drinking bottle. I went to feed my friend’s cat on Christmas day so she got me the Lottie and Kicks amiibos. (Gosh I hope they make Leif and Luna amiibos at some point, they’re some of my fave NPCs right alongside K.K. Slider, Digby, Celeste and Reese&Cyrus. So basically all AC characters are my favourites lol. My fave villagers are Julian, Flurry and Marshal.) Grandpa gave me an adorable indoor thermometer he’s carved and painted himself and grandmum sent me 50€. My guy’s family got me a soup bowl with choclates in it and his grandpa knit me some new wool socks. They also got the bunny some sawdust for his litter and a bag of grass hay.

On Christmas day me, mum and dad went skiing. It’s been snowing like crazy and everything is so beautiful. It’s supposed to rain for a couple of days so I hope it won’t all melt away though. Skiing was so hard but not as hard as I thought it might be. It’ll take a few tries to get back in shape but we did around 5km, which is really good for a first time. Today we went and practically dug our summer house from a pile of snow. We had a little campfire going and we roasted sausages and had coffee/tea over there. I’ve been dreaming about our summer house a lot lately, and in my dreams it has been threatened by a bear, a leopard and a nearby prison. I’m sure it’s something to do with feeling threatened since the summer house is my safe place. Anyway it was really nice to visit and everything looked so pretty covered knee deep in snow.

I miss my boyfriend so much. I found out that he had skyped with his parents on Christmas and so I confronted him about why he hasn’t told me that he has a working video call connection. He told me he forgot, which obviously indicated that either he was lying or he did not want to, which is why it did not cross his mind to talk to me at any point. Eventually I managed to dig out that he’s been really homesick and Christmas was really hard for him. He also said that he isn’t sure if calling me would make him even more homesick. He’s been concerned about how strongly I’ve reacted to his exchange year. I can’t help it that I feel a lot of things and I was genuinely depressed for a month after he left. And I can’t help it that I do miss him a lot. But there is nothing I could do about it right now so I’m managing. And I’m learning how to be alone and how to be left alone. And I’m learning to be stronger and less selfish. In any case it does make me feel a bit easier to know that he is missing home as well. I would want to know that I’m loved and missed as well though, and it does make me really sad to think that he doesn’t necessarily miss me at all or want me back. I don’t know. I just want to feel loved because right now it feels like a really one sided relationship, and I feel like a backup plan or a safety net he’d like to get rid of but is too afraid to rather than too in love to. If it makes any sense? In any case I’m eternally grateful for my friend who’s been spending time with me weekly, and who’s coming to spend New Years with me. A true friend is so needed right now. And a fluffy bunny.

I’m both excited and anxious for 2018. I’m happy to make some resolutions and reflect on a lot of things at the end of 2017. In the New Year I’m definitely going to continue working on doing as I damn well please instead of fitting my schedules to everybody elses. I’m also thinking of travelling and taking advantage of this stage in-between but I don’t know where to go because my guy hasn’t invited to visit him and I’d like to have some company wherever it is that I’d go to. At the same time I’m definitely anxious regarding the big life changes of graduation and job hunting and everything that comes with becoming an actual adult of sorts. I know life will take me where I need to be and I’m a smart and savvy lady with brains and a working etiquette any employer would be happy to have. Still, there’s no-one who wouldn’t feel nervous in my position.

A few more days of 2017 remain and I’m going to enjoy video games, good company and hopefully some more skiing and winter nature. I also need to get the rest of my resolutions in check. It looks like melting New Years tins is going to be difficult as the EU has banned most tins.. We need to come up with a back up plan if we can’t find any leftover packages.

30 more minutes until new ACPC campers. I’m tired but Fauna is almost on level 7 and I’ve almost got the stuff she needs to join my campsite. I’m going to stay up and see if she’s there.

#personal #diary #December2017

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bones-bones-bones-bones-bon-blog · 7 years

Text

i especially am slow [3/4]

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Ao3

So they end up back at the mines, because, if you find nearly-fatal trouble once, why not go looking again? or,

It isn't love at first sight, or anything, but when Kim thinks about when she first started to fall for Trini, she thinks about this- Trini lit in profile by distant police lights, blues and shadows like some noir movie femme fatale, her pupils huge in the dark, clothes torn and hair messy, she is strange and wild and so beautiful Kim's throat aches, and when she takes off running- Kim follows.

Kim has known she was into girls since way before meeting Trini.

If there was one thing Kim has always, always been good at, it's knowing who she is, and what (or who) she wants.

Her mom calls it a 'strong sense of self'.

Zack calls it, fondly, 'Pig-headedness'.

Some people just call her a bitch.

Those people are assholes.

She's known since she went to this shitty show when she was like, 14- a birthday present from Amanda- and she can't remember the name of the band, and the concert hall had been hot and the floor had been sticky with beer and coke and god-knew-what and she doesn't really even like punk music, but,

but,

but the lights in the hall had flipped off, and there had been- a moment.

A beat of perfect, anticipatory silence, the sort of moment Kim lived- lives- for, like when one of the cheer team had flown through the air in a toss and the whole crowd would tense up, a thousand people holding their breath to see if she'd stick the landing-

Then, out of the hot, close darkness, a wall of sound had erupted, a howling voice, an animal guitar, and the lights had flipped on-

and this is the moment Kim can remember with perfect clarity, the lead singer with sweat standing out on her skin, her teeth bared, her ripped jeans and her terrible singing voice and the dust shaking itself from the floorboards with every pound of the drums behind her.

Someone beside Kim had laughed, clapped her on the shoulder. “FIRST SHOW?” she had shouted, over the roar of the crowd.

Kim had turned with what, in retrospect, she's sure were owl-wide eyes, and the punk beside her- choppy hair and a denim vest and a linework rainbow inked in the crook her her hand- smiled, shouted, “Me too, kid,”

and that was that.

A beautiful, atonal singer at a punk show, a hand on Kim's shoulder, a stranger saying a gentle me too to Kim's dry mouth, wide eyes, to the bass-line thrumming in the bottom of her chest.

'me too'.

So.

She knew.

And it was never a big deal, really- Kim is a modern woman, not some repressed indie-movie steryotype, it didn't, and doesn't, bother her.

And she's still, like, mostly into dudes, 70% into dudes, so in a town like Angel Grove it just-

didn't come up.

Well.

Actually, it had come up up twice.

Amanda had been sprawled on the floor, leaning back against her bed, the Netflix home screen spinning up on her laptop.

Kim was slouched next to her, their shoulders touching easy, thoughtless, a bowl of popcorn nestled on the floor between them.

(Amanda always mixed malteasers in with her popcorn- had done it since she and Kim were kids, sneaking into PG13 movies, way back.)

(“I invented sweet-and-salty, Kim,” she would say, “those food bloggers can keep their 'umami' or whatever, this is an Amanda original.”)

(Kim still can't go to the movies without missing her)

Anyway.

Amanda had reached across Kim to flick off her lights, plunging the room into the soft pink TV glow, Netflix white-and-red.

“God,” she'd said. “What did we even do before Netflix?”

Kim grabbed a handful of sweet-and-salty popcorn, stuck out her tongue to eat one kernel, like a lizard.

“Blockbusters?”

And Amanda had groaned, let her head thunk back against her bed frame. “God, we're old.”

Kim looked over, laughed- was suddenly struck blind with affection, with trust, with the urge to tell Amanda, her best friend since and till forever, she had been certain, sitting there laughing, face gentle in the soft light of the screen.

“So,” Amanda had said, “What do you wanna watch?”

“Amanda-” Kim said, and Amanda must have heard- something, in her voice, because she wrinkled her noise, said,

“Ugh, sorry if it smells like cat litter in here-”

Amanda's house always smelled a little like her cats. She was always way more worried about it than anyone else.

“No,” Kim said, “It doesn't, I-”

Amanda turned to face her, sobering- “Are you okay?”

“I- think I'm into girls?”

There had been a blip of total silence- that nerve-wracking kind Kim thrived on, perfect hang time-

“What about Ty?”

Kim shrugged, heart beating a hasty retreat up her throat. “I'm- bi, I guess.”

And Amanda had smiled, pulled Kim into a sideways hug. “Okay,” she'd said, “Thanks for telling me.”

Kim just hugged her back, grabbed another handful of popcorn for something to do with her hand.

“But if this is your sneaky way of trying to get me to watch Orange is the New Black-”

“Oh my God.”

“Call me unsuportive if you want-” she said, laughter bubbling up in her voice, and Kim thunked her head back against the wall, groaning a complaint as Amanda laughed, her arm warm around Kim's shoulders, the room around them cozy and dim and familiar as the back of Kim's hand.

She'd told Ty, on the walk home from some party or other, the fall air cool around them, rich with the smell of rotting leaves, both of them fever-warm with drinking, laughing and stumbling into each other down the side walk.

“You know,” Kim had said, young and drunk and mostways in love, “I'm Bi.”

And Ty had said, “Oh. Hot.”

(Some people from her old life, Kim misses. Others...)

Anyway, other than that, it doesn't come up very often- a celebrity crush here, a hot classmate there,

until-

In the seconds after Billy detonates the cliff in the quarry, Kim is bent double, ears ringing, rock dust thick in her throat and chest seizing with coughs. A breeze is whistling low through the valley, the cool spring air bringing out a clammy sweat across her back.

“Hey,” a voice says, behind her- a hand taps Kim's shoulder, lightly, then pulls back as if reconsidering.

Kim straightens partway, still coughing, to find a water bottle thrust under her nose. It's warm and plasticy, when she drinks, and more refreshing than anything in her recent memory.

Kim does a quick rinse-and-spit, turns to return the bottle with a “Thanks.”

Her mysterious benefactor- a girl, maybe her age- shrugs, waves off the gratitude. “It was whatever.”

And Kim feels her breath stutter, the bottom of her stomach dropping out like she's just gone over the hump of a roller coaster, thrill and vertigo rolled into one.

Looking at this girl- Trini, Kim will learn- her mussed hair, her worn-soft shirt slouched off one shoulder, the little cut on her cheek, her eyes bottomless in the dark of the night-

she's captivating.

Beautiful.

Trini runs a hand back through her dusty hair, tugs her bottom lip briefly between her teeth. “Anyway,” she says,

fuck, Kim thinks, and, holy shit, and, later, some less polite things.

“Right,” Kim says. “Explosion. Cops.”

“Yeah.” Trini glances off, towards the distant sirens, something unreadable in her eyes.

It isn't love at first sight, or anything, but when Kim thinks about when she first started to fall for Trini, she thinks about this-

Trini lit in profile by distant police lights, blues and shadows like some noir movie femme fatale, her pupils huge in the dark, clothes torn and hair messy, she is strange and wild and so beautiful Kim's throat aches, and when she takes off running-

Kim follows.

“Kimberly,” her mother says, the next morning, “Where were you last night?”

Kim, palm still prickling from the splintered mess of her phone, says nothing. Reaches around her mom to open the fridge.

It takes three tries to grab the handle hard enough to open it- better to err on the side of too gentle than-

“Kim,” Her mom says, pleading, “There were sirens at the quarry last night, I just-”

The fridge handle, under Kim's hand creaks like a ship in a storm, her fingers locking too tight after all, and Kim forces herself to relax, to say nothing, to keep staring into the open fridge, letting out the stale smell of leftovers, like she could be hungry, after what had happened.

“Kim,” her mom says, again, puts a gentle hand on Kim's shoulder.

“Mom, I'm okay.” Kim straightens, closed the fridge, smiles (and, hey, if she can fake a smile in sleeting rain, on a football field, with another cheerleader's sneakers digging into her shoulders, she can fake one in front of her mom). “It's just- finals season, you know? Grades really matter this year, I was just out studying.”

“Okay,” her mom says, like she wants to say something else.

And she's a nice woman, really, and Kim loves her, but ever since Kim had brought her own life unceremoniously down around her ears, things had been-

tense?

Smothering, maybe, is a better word, like the thick fish-smell near the docks, where the pastel-perfect skin of Angel grove peels away to show the rot underneath.

(later, Kim will try not to stare as Trini, eyes huge and shiny in the light of a bonfire, explains how her family doesn't know what's 'really going on with her', can't know, don't want to know, how they're crushing her, a little at a time, and Kim will think, with all the startling intimacy a drunken confession can summon, me too, and you're beautiful, and god, me too, I thought I was the only one.)

But.

But in the meantime Kim can't even slam the door on the way out of her house, because even the normal ways to be an angry teenager have been stolen from her, somehow,

and she spends the walk to school thinking less about her superpowers and more about how she wouldn't have minded, really, if the train had flattened them, after all.

She does not look both ways before crossing the street.

So they end up back at the mines, because, if you find nearly-fatal trouble once, why not go looking again?

The air is flat and strange, fog pooling in the low places of the trails, dragging eerie white fingers through Kim's old stomping grounds.

Billy, intermittently, pipes up with some fact about what's going on- did you know obsidian forms when lava made from rocks like granite cools rapidly, and but granite's not native to Angel Grove, and so how do you think the coins got trapped in obsidian, can they create lava, we should test how hot they can get,

and he seems like a nice enough kid- smart, certainly, and he apparently bears no ill will towards her or Jason, for all that it's their type who probably give him the most shit.

But- Kim doesn't really feel like talking about 'felsic lava' or whatever, so she mostly tunes Billy out, focuses on the fog and the trail and the coin animal-warm in her pocket.

Jason apparently feels the same; he turns to Kim, as they break out of the fog, smiles. “So- we didn't finish talking yesterday.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, breath showing a little in the altitude. “What was the Kimberly Hart doing at the quarry, alone, at night?”

And Kim looks at him, handsome Jason Scott, the thin spring sun playing off his fine features, catching golden in his eyelashes.

Appreciates more than his looks the flat, sarcastic tone to his voice, the gentle mocking of her (former?) high school royalty status.

Doesn't appreciate it enough to tell the truth, though.

“Swimming.” she says, flatly.

“Right. Trying out for the relay team? Guess cheerleading didn't work out.”

Kim shakes her head, tries not to show the scabs that's picking at. “Glass houses, Scott.”

And Jason grimaces, puts up a placating hand (trying to be better, even then, than the person he had been).

“Sorry, low blow.” A moment later, “But, what were you-”

Then Billy calls, “Did you guys hear that?” and the echo of metal-on-rock cuts short whatever conversation they were going to have.

In retrospect, Kim remembers this meeting with fondness- Zack and Trini bickering across the mines, the gentle teasing that would become like second nature, by the time they beat Rita.

But in the moment- she is cold, and irritated, doesn't care about Zack or Billy or Trini, even, aside from a prickle of intrigue.

But-

but when it is just her and Trini at the top of that ravine, well above the fog, Kim feels-

Well. Again, it isn't love at first sight, but Kim looks at Trini, the wind playing in her hair, her arms barred tight across her chest,

and is overtaken by this- overwhelming urge to get to know this person, whoever she is, as more than just a face in the back of class, a stranger at the mines.

So.

Kim may be a disgraced cheerleader, but she still knows how to be charming when she wants to be.

“Hey,” she says, takes a step into Trini's space, registers the flicker of- something in her eyes, the coffee-and-grass smell of her, the distant, tinny music still drifting out of her headphones- “Could I get a drink of your water? I'm dying.”

Trini blinks. Even smiles, a little, one corner of her mouth ticking up, clearly remembering the last time they'd met. “Alright,” she says, after a moment, turns a little, to fish the bottle out of her bag, voice even tipping into a distant friendliness when she says “Just- don't finish it all.”

“Thanks,” Kim says, takes another step into Trini's space, leans close to say, softly, “And- sorry.”

Kim knows she didn't imagine the catch in Trini's breath, the quick dart of her eyes across Kim's face, the stutter in her low voice when she starts to say- “For w-”

Still got it, Kim thinks, distantly, as she tugs Trini over the edge of the cliff, the rush of vertigo in her chest underscored by the quieter thrill of being able, still, to get under the skin of a beautiful person, when she wants to.

Hey, who doesn't want to be checked out by a pretty girl, time to time? Kim's only human.

(Well. She's probably still human, anyway.)

So when Trini ends up in Kim's room, after all of it, asking after a haircut, Kim knows Trini likes her- didn't need a campfire-confession to figure out it was a possibility, either.

“It's- very pink,” Trini says, shrugging her jacket off, taking in Kim's room.

“It's my favourite colour,” Kim says, defensive, and maybe she should have known that her old friends hadn't been good for her, because now she expects to be insulted, but-

Trini shrugs, hands jammed in her pockets, turns to give Kim a rare, lopsided smile. “Alright.” She says. “Dope.”

Trini, Kim learns, pulls her shirt off like-

well, like a boy, is all she can think, grabs by the neck and pulls up, back arching as she goes.

“It's so the shirt doesn't go inside-out,” She says, a defensive blush already creeping up her face as she lowers herself into Kim's old vanity chair. Her arm makes an abortive twitch, like she was going to cross it over her stomach then thought better of it.

Kim puts a hand on Trini's shoulder, thumb brushing her neck, feels her breath catch, her pulse jump, and it's-

a little surreal, to have Trini here- Trini in her carefully distressed jeans and her actually-distressed bra- the fabric pilling and faded, the tag sticking out the back.

It's surreal, watching Trini very deliberately not make eye contact in the mirror, her eyes fixed on the sticker-and-bluetack residue where Kim had torn down every photo of her friends from grades K to 12.

Kim reaches, unthinking, to tuck the tag of Trini's bra back into place, and Trini's warm back jumps under her hands, and this is strange, too,

That Kim knows she could lean down, right now, could tilt Trini's head up, that she could kiss Trini, here, amoung her posters and her bedsheets, and that Trini would probably kiss her back.

Knows by the gentle blush showing at the tops of Trini's ears, bu the way her eyes flick away from Kim's every time Kim flirts,

But Kim's trying to be less- mean, and kissing someone out of the blue isn't precisely a nice thing to do, so even though Kim wants to kiss her,

has probably wanted to since they first met and does now, especially, Trini warm and nervous in Kim's room, her eyes lit seafoam-blue in the gentle sun, the yellow bandanna she won't acknowledge tied around wrist-

and even though Kim knows Trini likes her too-

she takes her hand off Trini's shoulder, puts it safely on her scissors.

Does give Trini a little wink, in the mirror, because-

well. She's not completely reformed.

But- still. She feels like she might need- help, with this one.

“So.” Jason says, his fingers digging white-tipped into his knee, like it's still bad, like he can still massage it better.

“So.” Kim says.

Below them, the football team warms up, gets a feel for the astroturf field, the heat of the day.

“Go Tigers.” Jason says.

Kim laughs, reflexively.

On the edge of the field, some of the old cheer team sits in shorts and jerseys, waiting for their boyfriends to finish practice, and it's cliché, and Kim loves her life now, and-

“I miss it too, sometimes.” Jason says. Lays his hand deliberately flat on the bench beside him.

“Am I that obvious?”

Jason just laughs, looks down at his old friends carry on just fine without him.

And this, really, is why Kim brought him here, to the nosebleeds in the offseason, metal bleachers scalding-hot against Kim's legs, where her shorts ride up.

Because- sure, Jason is their leader, and a good guy, but mostly,

mostly he gets Kim, in a way the other Rangers don't.

Like- Zack is a good guy- is funny and clever and he knows just when to push someone, and he can't really cook but for some reason makes an excellent from-scratch pizza, but- really, he gets along best with Trini.

And Billy is sweet and brilliant, but he loves mechanics, and cartography, and the X-men, (god he loves the X-men, he could talk about the X-men for hours and never get bored, and Kim loves that about him, loves to see him light up about the things he likes-)

But Kim doesn't love machines, or maps, or mutants, and she loves Billy but they really have very little in common and-

Trini,

well.

Trini is a complicated subject, right now.

Jason, though,

Jason, Kim gets.

“I don't know if you're obvious,” he says, “Just-” he looks over at her, for the first time, away from the field. Redirects. “Kim, what are we doing here?”

Kim shrugs. Tugs her shorts down, a little, tries not to be self-conscious about the way her thighs spread out when she sits down. “Celebrating our school spirit?”

Jason gives her a Look, his team-leader 'come on now' look, eyes solemn and mouth set, and Kim wonders if The Look is an innate Red Ranger power, or if Zordon's been training him, because Jason's got some I'm-not-mad-I'm-just-dissappointed superpower, she swears to god.

Kim sighs, looks away from Jason's you-can-tell-me-anything eyes. Says, after a moment,“You wanna go for a walk?”

They end up winding their way aimlessly through town, a gentle breeze helping to dispel the paint-and-sawdust smell that still hangs over Angel Grove, a constant nagging reminder of the damage Rita had done.

“So,” Jason says, “In your text- you said you wanted to ask me something?”

Kim nods. Turns the words over in her mouth for a moment, but just a moment. “Not that I really need your permission,” she starts with, grimaces at the acid in her voice. “I mean-” she sighs. “If I was- hypothetically- going to ask someone on the team out, do you think that'd be a bad idea?”

Jason looks at her, eyebrows pulled together. His hand goes, for a moment, to rub at his once-bum knee. “Uh, Kim,” he says, after a moment, voice uncharacteristically uncertain, “I don't really- see you like that-”

Kim blinks. Processes. Looks at Jason, the tips of his ears sunburn-red, his eyes averted

“Oh,” she says, when it clicks. “Oh- Jason, no- no offense, but I was not talking about you.”

Jason laughs, rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Okay. Good.” He shakes his head, meets her eyes, and the naked relief in his face makes Kim crack up, too.

(Kim does love Jason, of course, but dating him would be like dating her brother, at this point- Jason is kind and handsome and careful, he refuses to pirate TV and he always double knots his shoelaces, and Kim would die for him, just,

you know.

As a friend.)

“But wait,” Jason says, “Then who-”

Kim can see the wheels turning behind his eyes- he has the worst poker face she has ever, ever seen, and he goes, slowly,

“Not- Billy, right?”

“Not Billy.”

(and is that a hint of relief in Jason's eyes, had that been a hint of jealousy in his voice?)

“And- not Zack-”

Kim just smiles at him, shrugs a little, like, what are you gonna do? And she sees it click.

“Oh!” He clears his throat, and the other times Kim had come out she had been nervous- a thrilled kind of nervous, a joyful nervous, but nervous just the same.

This time, she just- isn't. Can rely on Jason- on any of the Rangers- to have her back for just about anything. Knows what his reaction will be.

Sure enough, Jason smiles, puts a hand on Kim's shoulder- “If you think she likes you too, Kim, you should go for it.”

“Yeah?”

Jason's voice goes a little leader-y- she doesn't think he knows he imitates Zordon, when he gets 'inspirational', but he totally does- and he says, “Thanks for telling me, Kim. I appreciate the honesty.”

And if she rolls her eyes, a little, at his predictable, stiff formality, she doesn't really mean it, because the next minute Jason's putting his arm around her shoulders and saying, “if you need to talk to anyone about it,” and “you're very brave” and Kim hugs him back,

feels the solid weight of his arm, the smell of his body wash masking the construction-smell of the streets around them, knows without a doubt that he- that any of the Rangers- aren't going anywhere.

The thing is, they're all good in a fight- Billy with his powerhouse kicks, hands close and protected to his chest (he needs them, he explains, his legs he can risk but not hands--)

Zack with his wildman laugh, loud and crackly over the Bluetooth where it maxes out the mic, even in the most dire fights, like if he's gonna die he wants to do it laughing-

Careful, careful Jason, who's always the first one to jump in front of an attack for someone else.

The other thing is,

as talented as they all are,

there's no one Kim likes to watch as much as Trini.

In person she's still a little reserved, like she's always holding something back, but in a fight-

in a fight, Kim remembers that Trini used to do yoga on the edge of a cliff, had scaled a sheer rockface bare-handed before any of them had known the extent of their powers-

that there is something, at the heart of her, a little reckless.

A little wild.

Anyway.

A giant had come lumbering out of the mountains because, this is Kim's life now, and apparently Angel Grove has sprouted some sort of Sunnydale-style Hellmouth.

And the giant had wandered its way downtown, leaving car-sized footprints in the warm asphalt (the potholes that'll leave, Kim thinks, with some dread, as she arrives on the scene, then remembers to be worried about the monster, instead).

She's looping overhead, getting a feel for the fight, when it happens. The giant swings for Billy, misses, flattens a lemonade stand in the process (Kim hears Billy yell “sorry!” over the Bluetooth, smiles).

Then-

Then Kim watches, with the perfect, helpless clarity of distance, as the giant uses all the momentum of its miss to swing its redwood-club for Trini's zord, a few centuries of old growth barreling for her at a hundred miles an hour,

so Kim yells, TRINI, DUCK, half into the bluetooth and half into the morph grid, the bottom of her whole world dropping away, all fear and no thrill whatsoever-

and Trini's Zord drops like a puppet with cut strings, makes this tooth-rattling thump Kim can hear from where she is,

then Trini- reckless, beautiful Trini- launches herself at the giant's back, all the crouched tension in her Zord's legs uncurling in the space of a second, and the giant's skin tears like wet tissue paper, throat opening under her assault, black blood washing into the gutters.

When Trini steps out of her Zord, after, her cheeks are flushed and there's this wide smile on her face, this fucking blinding smile, like a thousand searchlights all flipped on at once, even though she's limping, and blood is renting steaming from her suit,

and Kim, dazzled and a little nervous, says, “Do you want to get a drink?”

Can't not say it.

So.

There.

She's mostly been an adult about it, right, “communicated” instead of just grabbing Trini by the shoulders and kissing he like she'd wanted to (like she's been wanting to for ages).

Now she's asked Trini out and Trini's said yes, so-

there.

They end up by the old campfire site, high in the mountains, the thick humid air rising all around them, mosquitoes buzzing in the quiet of the night.

Kim's lightheaded with heat and altitude and Trini and-

okay, she's maybe a little drunk, too, but it's like-

it's fine, she can handle herself,

and she'd think the pretty flush in Trini's cheeks is- well, pretty, even if she were sober.

Kim's talking about something, but she's not really sure what she's saying- slippery, drunk words, unfocused, because Trini is tracing gentle circles on the inside of her wrist- Trini who has never been very touchy, leaning up against Kim's side in the too-hot countryside night, the smell of cheap beer on her breath, her sweat and sharp deodorant,

and Kim wants to kiss her, Trini with tangled hair and pink cheeks and a finger tracing gentle, careful circles on Kim's wrist-

(but- but also, Kim feels like- she could just watch Trini forever, sit here warm and drunk and close as the sun rose and set and rose again, just looking, watching Trini with her beautiful eyes, her bright smile, her.)

When Kim trails off, Trini looks up at her, and Kim knows she's not imagining the tic of Trini's eyes to her mouth, knows she wants this too,

leans in, a little, gives Trini time to pull away-

Trini's breath is bad, but her lips are soft, when when she kisses Kim, her hand warm when it comes up to Kim's shoulder-

Kim slips a tongue into Trini's mouth (but just a little, she's not an animal-) and Trini makes this sound that Kim has never, ever heard before, low and wanting, so Kim reaches to tangle a hand in her hair-

but-

but Trini puts a hand in the center of her chest, pushes gently, and Trini-

Trini who's pupils have nearly enveloped the blue of her eyes, who's breathing hard, who's gentle blush has become terminal-

says”I-”, says “we shouldn't-”

Kim wants to say, huh? Or, why not? Or at least I'm sorry, but her brain's still a little scrambled, and then Trini's shaking her head, standing up, walking away again, like Kim used to watch her do all the time, like part of her still doesn't want any part of this, of the Rangers, of Kim,

so-

Shit.

Trini avoids practice.

She skips school.

She doesn't say anything in the group chat (whatsapp, 'cause Billy won't join the ranks of the sophisticated and get a fucking iphone-)

and the problem-

the problem is, that Kim doesn't know what she did wrong.

She says as much, one day, after practice, Jason slouched on a locker-room bench with a dayglo-red Gatorade.

“I just-” Kim picks at the label on her own drink, paces. “I know she was into me too, Jason, I'm- I'm good at this, but she just-”

“Bolted.” Jason says. His mouth is gatorade-red around the edges. Kim looks away. “Maybe you just startled her. Did she-” he clears his throat. “Did she know you were going to-”

“Yes! I asked her out, we talked, I leaned in- I gave her time to pull away, Jason, she kissed me back, I just-”

Jason sighs, puts his drink down. Runs a hand through his hair. Kim can see lines etched into his offhand where it had been pressed against the benchtop.

“I don't know what to tell you Kim, I'm sorry.”

“It must-” Kim clears her throat, stops pacing, a moment. “It must be me. Maybe she thinks I'm hot but that's it, but she knows what a bitch I-”

“Kim!” Jason's head snaps up, real concern in his eyes, and Kim remembers this probably isn't how guys talk about themselves to their friends. That this probably, honestly, isn't how most girls let their friends talk about themselves, either. “I'm sure she doesn't think that.”

Kim shrugs. “Why not? Plenty of people do.”

“Come on-” Jason gestures to the bench next to him, and Kim's suddenly aware of her shaky, post-workout legs, the sweat trapped under her bra-band. “Have a seat, Kim, we can talk this out-”

“No I'm- I'm going home, I think.” She says, instead.

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

And Kim thinks, god, yeah, but like, she's in the last month of her last year of high school, she's an adult, she doesn't need other people to have her conversations for her.

She shrugs, though, cause she doesn't really wanna say no, either.

“Okay,” Jason says. Looks her over for a moment“Have a good night, Kim.”

“You too,” She says.

“Kimberly Hart!” Billy startles as Kim shoves her way out of the locker room, nearly collides with him in the hall.

“Oh- hey.” She walks past him, but he falls in step after her.

“Kimberly, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, only-”

“Only you did?” Kim sighs, feels something mean push its way up through her chest, doesn't quite catch it in time. “Billy, I'm actually not in the mood to deal with-” you right now, she almost says, cuts herself off with a sigh, rakes a hand back through her hair.“Shit.” She takes a breath. “Shit, I'm- sorry, Billy- you know what I meant.”

“No,” Billy says, after a moment. “I don't.” He looks up, briefly, to catch her eye, then away again. “And as I said, I- I didn't mean to eavesdrop, only it sounds like- maybe Trini doesn't know, either?”

Kim scrubs a hand over her temple, where a heat-headache is slowly growing. Her fingers catch on some dried blood and it makes her want to throw something, the way a little frustration can after a long day. “doesn't know what?” she says.

“What you mean, Kimberly.” Billy stacks the fingers of his left hand neatly against his leg, stares down at that, for a moment. “It isn't so easy to tell for everyone, like it is for you.”

Kim looks at him, for a moment, Billy who came back from the dead, Billy who always asks for blue food like that kid in The Lightning Theif, Billy who loves her enough to give her advice, even just now,

and she hates herself with an intensity that she hasn't hated herself with for a while.

Kim shakes her head, goes to clap Billy on the shoulder but remembers in time, course-corrects to just push at her hair again.

“I'll- see you tomorrow,” she says, and Billy doesn't try to follow her, this time.

So.

So Kim does something stupid.

She has a tendency to, when she's mad.

Jealous of your friend? Leak her nudes! Feeling lonely? Cut your hair off in a school bathroom! Want to die? Agree to flee town in a stranger's van!

(it's why she likes Trini. Some of why, anyway. Mountain Yoga 'fuck you' Trini, because she has some of the same reckless urge, and its nice to know that if she snaps her ankle trail running, or starts a bar fight or something, there's someone who'll come get her- who'll get it, no questions asked)

(Kim thinks about this and something low in her chest aches, like the one time she'd smoked a cigarette at 15, trying to be something she wasn't, sick and abrasive, it hurts from her throat to her lungs).

Anyway. Kim grabs her earbuds and her phone (newly-replaced, and she misses the old one, sometimes, the new buttons are too stiff but it's nice to have more storage space, she guesses).

She cycles through workout mixes and songs the other Rangers introduced her to and then stuffs her earbuds back in her pocket, takes off jogging down the street.

Angel Grove falls away behind her with the day, pastel houses and parched lawns, the sun sailors-take-warning red over the bay.

There's a a blister eating its way into Kim's heel where her sock's bunched up and she's already shakey-sore from training but this she can do-

Once Angel Grove is just lights and harbour-smell behind her, Kim pours on the speed.

There is a dive bar, you see, far outside the city limits, where the cheer team used to go, where the bar tender would never look at their fakes with too much scrutiny if he asked at all, where they would all order diet-vodka-sodas and pretend they didn't see their designated driver get one, too.

Its seedy glow spills out onto the highway, dim yellowed light and the gnash of music too loud for its speakers, the bass grinding out jagged where the stereo can't keep up with Springsteen- or something like him- mutter-singing about cars and the American Dream and the slow, rotting way their country is eating itself alive.

There's a gang of guys standing out front, cracked leather vests and compensating-for-something motorbikes, the red ends of their cigarettes glowing like cartoon monster-eyes in the night.

A thrill of fear goes up Kim's spine as she staggers to a halt at the edge of the lot, even though she could take these guys, take ten of these guys, 20.

One of her knees shakes, a little, worn-tired, and Kim reaches to still it, looks up at the bar.

The grotty place seemed more gritty, before, dangerous but exciting, and Kim is tired and her mouth takes a little like blood and she can hear maybe-Springsteen sing about wanting to fuck his camaro from here and-

she thinks better of it. Fishes her phone out of her pocket- new and stiff but wearing comfortable, slowly, and she makes a call.

“Hey,” Zack says, as hey pulls up, voice muffled behind his motorcycle helmet, but Kim can still pick up the hint of wariness, curiosity.

His- well, it's more of a scooter, really, but he insists on calling it his 'bike'- sputters to a stop, a probably-unhealthy amount of gray-black smoke pouring out the back.

“Everything OK?” he says, flipping up his visor, eyeing up the grimy bar behind her, the rough men with their loud, drunk voices, their motorcycles that bear no resemblance to scooters whatsoever.

Kim shoves a shaky hand into her pocket. “I uh- just needed a ride home.”

Zack frowns. “Jacob not home? I mean-” he pulls a face. “I'll take you, obviously-”

Kim winces. “He's- busy.” She says, and Zack looks at the bar again, duct-taped windows and birdshit.

“Okay,” he says. Tosses Kim his spare helmet.

The truth is-

Well, Kim loves Zack, obviously, but they don't really talk much, outside of practice, aren't close the way he and Trini are.

But Billy doesn't drive and Kim's not gonna ask Trini for a ride, right now, and she doesn't wanna explain to Jason Scott how she ended up out here with a blister bleeding through the back of her sock, so.

Kim clambers onto the 'bike' behind Zack- under her knee, some of the cheap black paint chips off to show the original plastic.

“Don't worry,” Zack says, as the engine splutters to life, and Kim can hear his wink- “I won't tattle to teacher.”

Kim laughs. “Owe you one.”

“No,” Zack says, “You don't.” He flips his visor down, says, muffled, “Okay, hold on.”

And Kim does, and the seedy bar-lights fade behind them, music drowned out by the tear of the wind.

So.

So Jason talks to Trini and Trini talks to Kim and later that day, as Kim is pouring herself a glass of orange juice, her power coin grows fever-hot where it's jammed in her too-small pocket.

So maybe she's a little distracted, when she arrives at the water front, maybe she's not paying as much attention as she should to the fight, to the dragon melting its way down the newly-repaved Willow Street, it's been a weird week, can you blame her-

can you blame her that she doesn't notice its wings unfurl with a sound like the start pistol at a track event, doesn't notice it barreling upward towards her, talons outstretched, can you blame-

Kim wakes up sputtering sea water, tasting blood and salt, shaky, like she's just finished the world's longest workout, ears ringing-

someone's hand is brand-hot on her back, their legs propping up her scraped-raw chest-

“The dragon?” is all Kim can think to say, blinking up to see- Trini leaning over her, Trini saying “the boys took care of it”, Trini who's maybe almost crying, helping Kim sit up with gentle, soothing hands, Trini making an abortive move to brush Kim's sea-wet hair from her eyes.

“You alright?” Trini says, so softly, like she's scared to ask, like they the two of them have not crossed greater lines.

Kim shifts, coughs, feels the gravel bite into her bare calves, the warm anchor of Trini's arm under her shoulders, the burn of salt in her lungs.

“Didn't think you cared,” she says, reaches for Trini's free hand to say, also, don't go.

“Don't be stupid,” Trini says, so softly, and Kim laughs, then coughs again, turns blindly to tuck herself against Trini's chest. She goes deer-in-headlights stiff for a moment before relaxing, the damp-and-gentle of her, warming Kim through when her hand comes up, eventually, to wrap over the back of her neck, Trini's calloused fingers so soft Kim feels like she might break with it.

“Hey, wait-” Kim says, as Jason runs to get his truck to take her home, “Hey, Trini- Wait.”

Trini turns- her hair frizzing out from the heat and salt, a bruise high on her cheek, nerves in the tight way she's holding her hands, her searching eyes.

“Everything OK?” She says, gives Kim a once-over like somehow she's gotten hurt again, since being dragged from the bay.

“Yeah- Yeah. I-” Kim shakes her head, reaches to put a gentling hand on Trini's forearm where it's barred tense across her chest.

“Don't.” Trini pulls her arm away, not ungently. “Kim, just-”

Kim drops her hand, clears her throat. “Come over tonight?” she says, Jason's truck noisy on the street behind them. “I get it, if you can't, but-”

Trini frowns.

Kim tries not to give her a kicked-dog look, but the skin's all been grated from her cheek and her hands ache in the cold breeze and her throat is burning rawer than the time she got drunk off Zack's moonshine, and she maybe feels a little kicked.

“Okay,” Trini says, finally, as Jason's truck pulls into the lot, and Kim tries not to catch the wary look in her eyes.

“See you then.”

Jason's truck draws stares as they drive, and not the good kind.

The front bumper is held on with zip-ties and the engine makes a sound like landslides fighting and one window is always stuck halfway down.

Jason is silent at the wheel, which Kim mostly doesn't mind, really, she's so tired-

Mostly she dozes, as they dive, the sun slanting thick through the trees, tangible, Kim tastes summer between her teeth where it hits her skin, sweet and warm.

When the truck gets hot it smells like oil, and leather, and metal, and Kim closes her eyes against the bright day and traces her fingertip loosely over the lightning-bolt Zack had carved in the door, crooked where a pothole had jerked his switchblade, and she tries not to fall asleep completely.

Jerks further awake when Jason pulls to a stop a block away from her place, the truck rolling a foot before its brakes bite.

Jason doesn't say anything, at first, just sighs, hands tightening around the wheel. He's looking at her out of the corner of his eye, like for once even he's not sure what to say, like-

(like these are the early days, before the fight against Rtita, like Kim's back to not dodging, because she doesn't really care if she gets hit)

So Kim looks at him, across the gulf of the glovebox, says, “Jason. It was just a lucky hit.”

He doesn't look at her back. Says, “I'm just-” and he drops his hands, sighs- “Worried, about you. You know, if it's getting- bad, again, I don't want to-”

watch anyone die, Kim imagines he will say, again.

“Jason-” she reaches across to him, puts a hand on his shoulder, and he leans a little into her touch- she feels his breath catch when he inhales, and Kim realizes abruptly how afraid is is, for her. “I promise. I'm okay.”

And she's not lying.

However bad things are, now, however strange, with Trini, however tired she is, however awful a night or a day might be-

she is better, now, than she was, in a way that almost makes it hard to remember how terrible things were, why she was so ready to leave it all behind.

Jason puts a hand over hers, on his shoulder, nods, meets her eyes in the rearview mirror.

He gets it, Kim thinks, and that's one of the reasons it's better, now.

“I'm okay,” she says, again, and means it.

#power rangers #trimberly #saban's power rangers #power rangers 2017 #trini x kimberly #trini kwan #kimberly hart #uhh anyway sorry this took..... 8 thousand years lmao #power rangers fic #fic

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