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#i guess sat morning is for thirsting on main
highwarlockkareena · 3 years
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I got tagged by @wei-gege and @yibobibo thank you!💜💜💜
Rules: post the last picture/ GIF of a celebrity /character you saved and that’s your isolation buddy.
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there were 3 pics for this shoot, all of them equally devastating. i guess i have missed swimming, so siren jun would be good for that! 
tagging: @aheartfullofjolllly @lan-xichens @suibianjie​ @sugardaddyahxu @servingcunt @sluthonorific​ @slowlydiving​
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ffeynn · 3 years
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hii new blogヾ(´︶`*)ノ♬ how are you? if I'm not bothering could i request for himeru and kaoru with a s/o that has trouble falling asleep? thank you and rest!!
「 s/o who have trouble falling asleep: himeru and kaoru 」
a/n: hi to you too (o゜▽゜)o☆ oh no no you're not a bother don't worry! and and the thing is,, i dont really know how to do this so it kinda turn into a slight night walk scenarios help. im pretty sure this might be short but I hope you'll like it!! thank you to you too ( •̀ ω •́ )✧
pairings: himeru, hakaze kaoru x reader (seperates)
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when himeru woke up due to the unending sounds of rustles, footsteps and creaks, he was surprised to know the space beside him was vacant. he looked up and saw that the door to the room was slightly opened. you were in the kitchen, the male guessed. well you must’ve a reason for being awake in this unholy hour.
so he got out of bed and walked out of the room, heading toward you. in the kitchen with the lights on, you heard himeru walking up to you. “ah, did you wake up because of me?” he didn’t answer your question and instead sat next to you.
“what’s wrong?” putting his hand on top of yours, the male asked.
you chuckled for a short second, not because it’s funny rather because you adore the way he is. “nothing’s wrong.. just can’t fall asleep.”
it’s late already, probably around 2 or 3 in the morning but himeru won’t leave his lover who’s having trouble sleeping alone. it’s late already, the outside is dark and the people spotted were close to none.
that explains why you were now walking along the jogging trail at the nearest park, with himeru holding your hand to keep you warm.
the walk was quiet except for birds chirping and the loud gusts of wind. you shivered as your skin made contact with the freezing night air, your lover noticed that and let go of your hand. himeru stripped himself off his shearling coat and neatly put it around you before holding back your hand.
your impromptu night walk last for 30 minutes or so yet somehow it made you feel like tonight won’t be that hard of a night to sleep.
was it because of the cold wind hitting your face constantly, was it because of the long walk you took without resting or was it because of the way himeru keeps you in his embrace once you both lay on the bed, the way he kissed your forehead and the way he expresses his worry toward you.
knowing someone is worrying about you is a pleasant feeling and himeru did exactly that to you. “himeru doesn’t want you to lose sleep anymore so if you’ve trouble falling asleep again, tell him. he.. I will always be there to help you.” magically or not, you found yourself drifting to dreamland easier than before on this night.
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kaoru woke up from his sleep due to the sudden thirst, he went to the kitchen, drank and went back to the room you and he shared. the male almost panicked when your figure disappeared from sight but when he saw you walking out from the bathroom, he was relieved.
“kaoru?” knowing well enough you were asking him why he was awake, he answered your question with his sudden need for water. and in reply to kaoru’s answer, you told him the reason why you were awake. correction, why you were still awake.
oh. he didn’t know you had trouble sleeping. really, you should’ve just told him instead of worrying it’ll bother your lover. because kaoru is more than willing to help you overcome this trouble! he cares for you and to see you in trouble, no hesitation he will help you.
although the main problem lies with how should he help you. kaoru took a look out the window before an idea appeared in his mind. “you up for a night walk?” that question now leads you and kaoru walking all around the park nearby. his hand holding intertwined with yours as he swinged it to your comfortability.
times like these were rare. times where you could go out with your boyfriend and take a walk at the park; admiring the sky, the stars and the occasional chirps and meows. kaoru is an idol and a scandal that could harm his career is the last thing you would’ve wanted.
the dark blonde haired felt your goosebump against his skin from the cold night air. he stopped on his track, naturally you stopped too. with his body facing you, kaoru brought both of your hands up and cupped it.
soon blowing into it in order to at least restore some of your warmth. just before kaoru let down your hands, he left a couple of kisses on your knuckles and on the inside part of your hands.
and with each kiss, you felt as if you were melting from the overwhelming affections that you didn’t mind. quite the long minutes have slipped by as well as your consciousness to stay awake. the walk made you tired. tired means being sleepy.
in no time, here you are back in your shared room. kaoru lulls a lullaby he remembered from his childhood which soothed you more than expected.
a few moments ticked by and kaoru was glad to see you sleeping so peacefully, so close to him that you might hear his heartbeat in your sleep. he hopes you won’t though since you might wake up from the loudness of his adoration to you. jeez, that was such a cheesy line.. but it’s true so who cares.
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nevertheless-moving · 3 years
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Suicidal Misunderstanding VII
Star Wars Time Travel AU #27
Part I - - - Part II - - - Part III - - - Part IV - - - Part V - - - Part VI
CONTENT WARNING: Please be advised this chapter may contain triggering material. More detail available in tags. 
It wasn’t until Anakin was staring at the hot sauce bottles and solitary mysterious green takeout container that he remembered they were at war, and therefore no longer in the habit of restocking the apartment’s cold stasis.
“Obi-Wan, there’s nothing to eat!” 
"I know!” came the call back. “I’m trying to meditate!”
Anakin closed the stasis door and walked back out to the common room. Obi-Wan sat crosslegged on the window sill.
“Do or do not, there is no try,” the knight quipped.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes to look fondly at the man standing before him. Maybe tomorrow, when he woke alone in a dusty desert hovel, he would regret letting himself play pretend for so long. Maybe this whole day would fade from his memory like a dream.
But right now, he felt... peaceful. He wouldn’t claim to be satisfied by the explanations he imagined for Anakin, but it would have been far more disturbing if he somehow came up with an actually sympathetic justification for genocide. He got to say and hear a number of goodbyes. He even got to cry over Anakin with the comfort of his presence. 
Now he had to let go, to be there for Luke. (And he could always get more spice...)
“I guess if you need to meditate, I can go pick us up food from the Temple Tapcaf.” Anakin offered. 
“Thank you, Anakin. Today...helped. More than I can explain.” Obi-Wan said softly.
“I- I don’t really deserve that. Considering it was all my fault.” Anakin bowed his head, helpless for words, but uncomfortable with being praised.
“Not every terrible thing that has happened is your fault. You made a series of terrible choices, yes. But there were, there are, other dark forces at work and not a single Jedi in the order was able to stop them. At least for a short time today I was able to set that aside, so for what it’s worth, thank you.”
“Kriff.” Anakin said shocked. “Of course there’s more. Ok. That’s all right, we-” he was cut off by a growl from Obi-Wan’s stomach. 
A snort of laughter escaped before Anakin smacked a hand over his mouth. “Alright, I’m going to the Tapcaf, you just...meditate until I get back.”
Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded, “I love you so much.” 
“Force Obi-Wan, you’re going to make me start crying again.” He pulled him into a bear hug. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m not gone, ok? Just...meditate. And drink some water.”
"Hmm, I don’t know. Some of my best choices recently have been stupid,” Obi-Wan laughed. The words were light, but Anakin felt a prickle of unease, a hint of danger. There was no clear cause, and Obi-Wan seemed relaxed but...
Anakin gripped his Master’s shoulders, staring him dead in the eye. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
Obi-Wan sighed, “I promise.” He pulled Anakin down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Anakin.”
"I’ll be back in 20 minutes.” He paused, then mumbled, “i love you too” before speeding out the door.
Obi-Wan settled back into meditation, reaching inwards. Everything but his body and the light within faded. He magnified his hunger, his thirst, visualizing the pack of dried jerky in his hut, the precious jars of water in the basement. He could almost feel the heat that never quite abandoned Tatooine, even during the short nights. He opened his eyes
and saw the temple apartment.
He shut them again quickly. He was sure he could snap himself out of this. He sank deeper inward, careful to leave his shields perfectly intact. With the galaxy as dim as it was, a real show of force had the potential to grab attention across star systems. Force purging toxins, fortunately, was more a matter of internal concentration than outward power. It was one of the first skills Obi-Wan had truly mastered as a Jedi, thanks to numerous kidnappings at the start of his apprenticeship and hard drinking towards the end. 
It was uncomfortable to be that keenly aware of one’s kidneys, but Obi-Wan managed. It was less intense than a healing trance, anyway. His heart rate increased as various metabolic processes sped up- and almost immediately slowed down. Huh. The drug must of almost run its natural course, and now he 
still in the temple.
Kark. Shit. 
‘Breathe’ he thought. Stress was only going to increase his chances of a stroke. Alright, so meditation wasn’t working. Maybe he could try for longer, but part of him was nervous that if ‘Anakin’ returned he’d lose the willpower, and so far the passage of time had been extremely linear. He was too invested in the fantasy at this point for anything easy.
Remember your training. Your eyes can deceive you, do not trust them. 
Padawans were taught three main methodologies to move beyond mindtricks, hallucinations, visions, and the like. Looking In, Reaching Out, and Breaking Out. 
Looking in wasn’t working. That left the other two options. In the past, when his senses were lying to him he could always trust in the force, but now...it was just too much risk. Reaching out like that, with his whole self, meant the chance of finding someone.
That left breaking out. Obi-Wan jumped up, staring intensely at the details in the molding, the stains on the carpet, at everything. At no point today had he spotted objects fading to grey in the corner his vision, or ripple as memories from different time frames overlapped, but surely there must be some weak point.
Nothing. 
Shit, he really had stayed too long. Alright then, time for more uncivilized measures.
He walked to the kitchen and pulled their butcher’s vibroblade from its block, holding it to his neck, then hesitated.
This had to be done, but it didn’t make it any less unsettling. It was his own fault for lingering in the delusion so long; all the more palatable paths to escape had closed off, and after all he had been through he refused to die from a drug overdose. Gods, it might take years for someone to find the body.
He steeled himself, bringing the blade back up decisively only to drop it with a clatter. Pressing a hand to his throat, he was unnerved but not entirely surprised to find a stinging line of pain. His hand came away wet with blood. He instinctively pressed both hands to the cut, pulse rapid and heavy and slippery beneath his palms.
It’s just a hallucination. It’s just an extremely vivid hallucination.
A thought occurred to Obi-Wan then, and he felt something in the pit of his stomach drop in horror.
What if...what if the blade was real. What if he was actually moving around his home right now, hazily sleepwalking in a pantomime of the peaceful stroll and tender embraces he was imagining. It would explain the immediate relief from the water this morning...hadn’t he found his way to food and water even dazed from sleep-debt and blood-loss during the war?
He had a vibroblade in the desert too...
His pulse pounded harder beneath his hands. The cut wasn’t even that deep, but for the first time Obi-Wan felt the true existential horror of his current trap well up. If he didn’t know where the walls were...how could he escape.
He took a deep breath, acknowledging and letting go of his panic.
He had the force. He would just have to be delicate in his application. He picked up the bloodied tool from the floor but decided to simply to clip it to his belt for now. A force-null object would be harder to distinguish at first touch.
Obi-Wan walked to his temple bedroom and opened the barest crack in his shields, just enough to reach out, get a sense of existing currents in the force. He stirred at one until a small vortex of light formed. To anyone looking, it would appear a naturally occurring, low-powered whirlpool, common enough on Tattoine. Any gentle moves he made in the minutes before it fell apart would hopefully be obscured by its wake.
He hesitantly laid a hand on the lightsaber on his bedside table, lowering his shields a little further. His heart sunk when he realized that his memory had even recreated the perception of force-imbued temple walls in the periphery. The Kyber in his saber reverberated with a familiar song. He jerked his hand away. That felt too much like his real lightsaber. He couldn’t risk it. 
Before Obi-Wan truly began to panic again, he realized something missing. Anakin’s- Darth Vader’s saber. Since picking it up on Mustafar, the crystal in it had screamed at him, halfway to corruption. When he touched the blade he could almost feel... feel what horrors it had been bent to commit.
Most of the time he left it buried under a rock pile in his basement, too afraid to work on healing it.
He couldn’t hear it now- but he could feel the memory of what it used to be.
It sat innocently on his Anakin’s bedside table. There was a tinge of darkness to it of course- this saber had only ever known war. But when he rested a hand on the blade it was clear this belonged to the memory he had walked with today, not the tyranny of reality.
Grasping it firmly, he marched back to the windowsill and settled, intent on his choice. Sunsets here couldn’t compare to tattooine- they were just too different. The binary play transformed the infinite horizon. It was something on Tatooine he unabashedly marveled at.
Courasant, on the other hand, transformed the sun into a reflection of itself. Untold millions of transparisteel buildings refracted the star painfully at some points while casting shadows on the rest. The filter of light through constant smog resulted in strange shades of neon green and blood red. It was beautiful, but uncomfortable to look at too long.
He closed his eyes and pressed the saber to his chest.
---
Anakin was impatiently waiting in the hot service line when the urge to return to his apartment insistently welled up again. He pushed it back of course- Obi-Wan needed food and Anakin couldn’t keep putting his own selfish impulses in front of his Master’s wellbeing.
He held out for a few seconds, but the itch was getting stronger, sharper. He looked down at the tray- it already had most of Obi-Wan’s cold favorites, but he really wanted to get him his favorite soup if the line would just move a little faster. He jolted when, for the first time that day, Obi-Wan’s shielding thinned the slightest amount. Not enough to get anything clear, but the fact that there was movement at all...
He left the line; they could always come back together if Obi-Wan wanted. Hells, maybe they’d do a late night visit to Dex’s for some real comfort food. Anakin still couldn’t get a sense of what Obi-Wan was up to through their muffled bond. He felt a buzz in his ears, not unlike the moment before an enemy blow.
He picked up speed, tea sloshing in its thermoflask. An elder looked at him annoyed as darted around him.
He started speed walking in earnest as the feeling got more intense. A sandwich fell to the wayside.
Speed walking quickly switched to jogging, then running; there was a shout of complaint as he ditched the whole tray carelessly behind.
He took the last few hallways at a full-out force-assisted sprint, the Force itself screaming at him to move. A small part of his mind thought we’re safe inside the temple Obi-Wan promised not to do anything stupid i’m going to get such shit for freaking out over nothing. 
He sensed nothing from Obi-Wan over the bond; not a hint of fear or anger or surprise. He blurred around the last corner, feeling like he might throw up with his increasing, unexplained panic.
Not caringabout anything butgettingto Obi-Wan beforeitstoolate he smashed down the door at the same moment Obi-Wan, sitting peacefully by the window, turned on the lightsaber pointing directly at his heart.
Time seemed to slow. Splinters of the door frame hung in the air as Anakin desperately pulled the lightsaber away from Obi-Wan in the half-second between activation and ignition.
He wasn’t quite fast enough.
Blue plasma pierced Obi-Wan’s chest as time caught up. Pieces of the wall shattered like shrapnel as he turned, shocked to see Anakin. The saber flew away in a straight arrow. 
Anakin threw himself to Obi Wan’s side, wildly trying to draw heat away from the searing hole before it could vaporize the surrounding flesh. He couldn’t tell what the saber had pierced, or how far it had gone in considering its last second movement.
One hand trained on a hundred battle fields robotically reached for his comm-unit to call for emergency medical assistance. His mind however, had largely been left behind a few minutes ago, when he was trying to pick what Obi-Wan would want to eat for dinner.
What came out his mouth was more incoherent shrieking than anything else, but he had at least called the correct line for temple aid.
He threw down the comm, focus intent on controlling the smoldering burn. The air around them seemed to boil and Obi-Wan started struggling to get away. Anakin bodily held him down, finally finding words,
“What the FUCK, OBI-WAN! YOU LITERALLY JUST PROMISED NOT TO DO ANYTHING STUPID! YOU PROMISED!”
“that’s why- hkk I  have  to” Obi-Wan rasped.
“Karking Fuck.YOU- STOP MOVING!”
Anakin felt a twinge of danger come from the side but was too focused to do anything but shift his body as shield. A sharp pain pierced his gut but he ignored it. 
The air crackled with heat and power as the wound beneath him cooled. A faint trickle of dark blood oozed out, probably burns breaking from recent movement, considering the instant cauterization. He couldn’t see any light coming through, which meant he had moved the saber at least a quarter klick before it activated, Anakin thought semi hysterically.
Finally, someone showed up to investigate the disturbance. In truth, probably less than a minute had passed since Anakin entered the room, but he really didn’t care.
“HELP ME!” Anakin shouted.
“What happened?” Mace Windu asked grimly, falling to the ground next to them. Not waiting for an answer, he set his lit saber aside and placed his hand to Obi-Wan’s forehead, stilling the violent thrashing.
Anakin opened his mouth but he just didn’t have the words. He didn’t know. 
“General Skywalker, report.” Mace Windu commanded sharply. 
“I left him alone to get dinner for us. I ran back and when I broke open the door he was holding the lightsaber to his chest. I tried...to pull it away. It pierced him, and I’ve been trying to manage the initial burn risk. I called for medi but I don’t know their eta.”
“They’re behind me. How did you get stabbed?” the Master demanded.
“How did I what?” Anakin looked down to see a vibroblade sticking out from his left side. Right, the pain from before. Obi-Wan suddenly mustered up the energy to wake up despite his state and Windu’s compulsion. He looked around wildly before yanking the knife from Anakin’s side.
Anakin gasped, but managed to still his brother’s hand using the force before he could finish bringing it up to his neck, which Anakin just noticed was bloody.
“STOP TRYING TO DIE!” Anakin screeched.
“...I’m...not....I’m....trying.....to...” 
But before Obi-Wan could finish the sentence, the healers finally arrived, pushing Windu aside to grab hold of Anakin and Obi-Wan. He could feel a buzz of energy go through him, stopping at the growing damp patch at his side. He tried to push the man away but the heat in the room was starting to make him dizzy
“I’m fine! Focus on Obi-Wan.”
Mace placed a hand on his shoulder, and in the gentlest voice he had ever heard from the man, said, “You’ve been stabbed Anakin. Let the healers help both of you- you’ve done well looking out for him.”
Obi-Wan, still occasional thrashing was being loaded onto a hoverstrech for transport. A second stretcher waited next to it. 
“Master Windu! He’s fighting us,” Master Che called sharply. “Can you tell us what happened?”
“Master Kenobi tried to kill himself,” Windu replied flatly. “His wounds are self inflicted and he’s violently fighting assistance” 
There was a beat as that information was processed. Knight Bant, who must have arrived at some point, said in slightly less flat voice, “He displayed erratic behavior earlier today, and I ruled out drug interactions.”
“Thank you, Knight Bant.” Master Che plunged a syringe of some kind into Obi-Wans thigh. He finally stopped attempting to fight, falling down onto the board. “Red team, with me. Orange, you have Skywalker,” She instructed sharply. 
Anakin numbly watched most of the healers leave with Obi-Wan through a hole in the wall. He slowly started to stand and somehow ended up guided into a seat on the hoverboard. Looking down, he was surprised to see his tunic cut away in favor of a large bacta patch. 
“Hey,” he protested. “Who stabbed me?”
“We can discuss that after you have surgery,” A Human healer replied. Master Covamos, he thought.
“This is my fault” Anakin said, suddenly urgent. “I shouldn’t have left him. He told me goodbye, he was saying goodbye all day, I should have...”
“You saved his life,” Windu interrupted. “You got to him just in time, don’t waste your energy on should-haves. Now sleep.”
Anakin wanted to argue more, but instead found himself laying down, vision blurring. His face felt damp, had he been stabbed more than once? Windu said a few more words he couldn’t quite make out. There was a brief stinging sensation, then everything faded away. 
----
Part VIII
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santalsaburablog · 3 years
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The adventures of Santal. Chapter 11. Santal, help out!
Believe in yourself, otherwise no one will believe in you.
A riddle! Santal, who has recently been studying at the Jedi Temple, saw for the first time a real lightsaber duel, as well as the former padawan of Master Yoda, Master Ian Dooku! Wanting to get acquainted, the girl, however, suffers because of the tension that has arisen between her and another youngster named Landa Selmura. Not knowing what to do, Santal decides to seek help from the grandmaster, but after receiving advice, something unexpected happens…
- Santal, just in case, I have nothing to do with it! It's not me! I don't know!
- Hush, calm down, what happened? Santal gently pulled the boy's hands away from her.
But Svante continued to tremble, folding his hands in a cross.
— I do not know how it happened! - the little Rodian continued to talk confusedly.
"You'd better show me," Santal interrupted. She was burning with impatience at what had happened.
- Let's run.
Svante took the girl to his room. It was, as Santal had expected, the same as hers. But there were minor differences. There was a plate with three jogans on it. On the left is a computer. The boy brought the daughter of the Jedi to him.
"I want to say right away that I'm not a computer hacker," Santal admitted.
And then I caught a slight sadness, although the expression of the face was not completely visible.
— Yes, and where did you get this device? - the girl continued. — We, the Younglings, like ... - and stopped. She didn't know if she was speaking correctly or not.
— It shouldn't be so personal. And that's the problem. One of the older ones lent it to me, and I screwed up. Here, " Svante pointed to the screen.
Santal looked carefully and did not understand. There were two tabs on the screen.
— And what's there? Santal asked, holding out her hand to the screen.
- You see, I was looking for information, and then I clicked somewhere. And so…
Santal, without thinking twice, moved her finger along the mouse and clicked on the first tab. The text appeared.
Svante opened his mouth slightly. And then he smiled, wanting to say something, but changed his mind.
- Hurrah! Thanks! And then I was scared, I thought that…
And Santal didn't know what to do. Laugh or swear. She thought something serious had happened. And here... oh, the Power!
The girl closed the second tab.
"Don't push that thing again," she advised. — I don't understand one thing. More precisely, two things. Why did you ask me for help, and not one of the older ones? And what were you shouting at first, I don't remember?
— I was just scared. Especially not my room, but that padawan's. That is... yes, that. Room. Sorry, I didn't say that… He allowed me to use it without leaving his room. And when I clicked, I didn't get my bearings, ran for help, stumbled upon you, and you sometimes sit in the library and know something about it. Probably. That's what I thought, " Svante finally relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief. And before that, I was flexing my fingers and getting confused in words. - I think I've said everything.
"Okay, I'm going," Santal said, and after waiting for an approving nod, she ran to her room, feeling great comfort from her clansman.
However, she still had some thoughts left. But she brushed them off like an insect, because there was a more important task. Find Dooku.
The girl did not run fast, feeling as if after what had happened a minute ago, she herself felt a little easier.
But then she suddenly realized that she had forgotten where Dooku's room was with all this fuss. And almost immediately calmed down. Why would she be in a hurry? Anyway, the old master is not going anywhere. She can approach him tomorrow.
And the next day the girl safely forgot about it. And calmly continued to study.
So six months have passed since getting into the Temple. And then, one day, the daughter of the Jedi woke up and realized that she was turning four.
As soon as she jumped out of bed with a wide smile, she immediately collapsed. The girl remembered that she now lives in the Temple. My aunt, who is preparing a cake in the morning, is not around. She will not kiss her again in the morning, will not hug her. My uncle will not circle over my head. No. It won't happen again.
So Santal just got up without haste, got dressed and went out. A little sad. Because no one will congratulate her.
This day was a day off. No classes, so you can relax. Santal calmly wandered through the corridors. Finally, I found a mirror and looked at it, wanting to find out what had changed.
And there were no special changes. The girl has grown up a little, and that's all. In the face, consider, there are zero changes.
— So I became a year older, so I became a year older... - Yunling hummed to herself.
According to tradition, I wondered what my aunt, uncle and that uncle were doing. Do they think about it?
Suddenly, Nick came across her. The Twi'lek, seeing the clansman, made a sign to lekku, meaning a greeting. Santal understood, because before the unexpected departure, her aunt had managed to teach her how to say hello, say goodbye, and other simple things with the help of the movements of tchun and tchin.
So Santal understood the Lekku language and the Twi'lek language a little, but she wanted to go further, to master it perfectly.
- Hi, there.
- Hi, Nick.
- Wow, did you learn the word "hello"? Congratulations! Progress, " the boy laughed.
Santal also laughed, but deep down she was a little offended by the joke. She didn't like it for something. There was something about her.
- Don't be offended. I was just joking, " Nick somehow realized that Santal was unpleasant to hear.
Santal decided that Nick guessed because of her expression or just felt it with the help of the Force.
— Where are you going?
— I want to rest. I'll probably sit in the Hall of a Thousand Fountains. Or where the trees are. I like quiet places.
- All right. I'm going to see a friend. He's making something again — " Nick went on his way.
And Santal is his own. Even though she said where she was going, she was still bored. She even thought, maybe she should have told about her birthday? Or not?
As a result, the girl, after sitting in the Fountain Hall, went to the garden. I sat down under a tree, thinking about everything.
- "Today is my birthday. 4 years old. But for some reason, I'm a little sad. Why? Maybe because this is my first birthday not at home, but at the Jedi Temple. I wonder if the Jedi celebrate their birthdays? I hope so. And it's not interesting to live without such an important holiday. After all, on this day you realize that you have become a year older, more mature. Another year has passed. And if there is no birthday, then the years fly by unnoticed. You don't have time to keep up."
The girl sighed and began to think further.
- "What are others doing now? Yes, I'm thinking about them again. Because there is not much to think about. My aunt probably forgot me by refusing. My uncle, I think, remembers me. And the guy with the hat? I wonder if he thinks about me? Although, on the other hand, why should he even think about me? Well, he lost me. And at first, most likely, he was looking for it. Then, maybe, he waved his hand. And I understand him. I would also give up pointless searches. We are nothing to each other."
Santal sat for a while longer, looked around and went back. She didn't know what to do, so she decided to read something.
However, the girl did not suspect that today she is not the only one who is overcome by anxiety for some unknown reason.
***
Dooku was sitting in his room and meditating. His face was absolutely calm and serene, as befits the face of any Jedi. But it was fake. In fact, the old Jedi was a little worried. He had a premonition that something would happen soon. Fortunately or not, it is unknown. Moreover, the excitement appeared exactly after the demonstrative duel. But Dooku couldn't figure out what exactly was bothering him.
***
Barriss Offee was sitting quietly in the library, her head modestly bent over some text. Although she had not been a youngling for so long, even more than Santal, she already dreamed of the times when she would become a padawan, and then a knight. It is obvious that her teacher is most likely to be mirialanka. This is the tradition. Created in order for the teacher to pass on the experience to the student.
The girl also imagined how she would travel, discover something new, unknown. It will open a previously unexplored planet, a civilization. This is one of the main reasons why she wanted to be a Jedi. She also planned to spend her evenings studying ancient texts. From her point of view, this is a very exciting activity.
Perhaps she will do this together with Santal. And what? She liked this girl with her thirst for knowledge. He likes to read, so there will be something to talk about.
But with a lightsaber, things were bad. The young mirialanka could not even hold a sword properly. But maybe someone will help. Two days ago, she still didn't think, but now it seems to her that a couple of additional lessons still wouldn't hurt. Mara also said that he would like her to be a little more cheerful, smile more often, laugh. Well, Offi tried to behave like that. It's not working out very well.
In the meantime, she will allow you to help with the sword. Here Tutso Mara volunteered.
***
Santal still plucked up the courage and told her fellow clansmen about her birthday. After much thought, I finally decided that there would be no harm to her from disclosing this information.
Almost everyone reacted, as the Jedi daughter expected, with a smile. They started congratulating me.
— Why didn't you tell us?" - Max was "offended".
And Santal didn't answer. She wanted to laugh. And she didn't care that she didn't receive any gifts that day. The main thing is the attention that was given to her. The members of the clan showed that they care about her.
Until the evening, the children had fun, chatted about various things. Santal mostly just listened.
The next morning at breakfast, Santal had an idea. Write letters and make peace with Landa. The second did not work out, because they did not meet in the dining room somehow. Apparently, it so happened that one of them came earlier. Maybe they were separated for a split second or something else.
Well, nothing. She will meet with Landa in the classroom. He will have time. Yes, and she will have time to write letters. Namely, my aunt and uncle. She knows the address. And even if they don't read, it will at least make it easier for her.
And she will also write a letter to that uncle. The only bad thing is that she doesn't know his name and address where he lives. But she will write anyway, and then she will find someone who will pass it on. The main thing is to write.
And now in the evening Santal was coming from class, wanting to retire to her room and start writing. I left the classroom, decided to go to the library, but decided to take a longer path.
Santal still studied the corridors of the Temple and other nearby places at her leisure, even though she had lived in it for quite a long time. Just because she was interested in it. It is interesting to walk in such a peculiar maze. It's always so exciting to go back and forth, right and left and guess where the exit is, where the road will lead you.
So, Santal Sabura was distracted by the windows before entering the library. Or rather, the views that open from them.
Almost all Younglings did not know life outside the Temple until they became padawans. But not Santal. She, by virtue of the circumstances, saw the world, at least a little. I managed to visit other planets. I saw houses, and sand, and the sea, and grass, and trees. That's why she was so attracted to the windows of the Temple, showing life on Coruscant. Cars flying at great speed. Houses, lights.
On this planet, urban "Coruscant" life reigned around the clock. Santal had already taken a bite out of it. And, of course, she wanted more. Last time, she definitely looked at a couple of levels. This is great, but I would like to see the whole city. All levels. From top to bottom.
Having seen enough, Santal still forced herself to tear herself away from the window and continue her way to the library, or at least to her room. She turned her head to the left and stopped dead.
Master Dooku was standing by the window, apparently also admiring the view. Santal was surprised and delighted. Plus, it felt like going to the toilet downstairs. The girl did not believe her luck. She kept putting off meeting this Jedi, and then he met her himself. Unbelievable! There are coincidences!
Santal froze, afraid to move. She knew that such a chance could not be missed, and therefore she did not want to make a mistake terribly. It is very important for her now to think about where to start a conversation. It would be easier if everything depended on her, but no. Her interlocutor will be a man much older than her, and therefore smarter. His questions also determine which way the dialogue will turn.
It seemed to the girl that a lot of time had passed, and she was already beginning to be afraid. She already wanted to take the first step, giving out a banality in the form of a simple greeting. It was too simple, but it couldn't be better, and she felt that there wasn't much time left. Santal didn't care anymore, as long as she didn't keep silent.
"Hello," she said softly, but so that she could hear herself clearly.
The man turned and looked at her. Santal was already at the limit, because the master's gaze was strict and serious. But calm, without malice.
***
Dooku, in search of a source of excitement, decided to air out and take a walk, at the same time observing what was happening outside the Temple windows. At such moments, he always remembered his home planet Serenno. His parents, his sister. They have all been gone for a long time, but Yan Dooku still remembered them.
The man perfectly remembered how his sister gave him a comlink to communicate. He remembered coming to his mother's funeral, where his father yelled at him and even beat him.
All this was already a long time in the past. It's time to forget and move on. That's what Jedi usually do. And Dooku did the same. But still, sometimes I was nostalgic for the past.
After wandering for about half an hour, Dooku decided to make a stop at one of the windows, and after a while he suddenly realized that he might now find the source of excitement. It began to seem to him that there was someone nearby, and this someone was either afraid to take the first step,or waiting for him to start.
After waiting for quite a long time, Dooku got tired of this, and he decided to look at the one who is next to him. I turned my head to the right and saw...
A little human girl. Ordinary appearance. Nothing special. But what really caught my eye was that the girl, although frightened, did not lower her head, but continued to look. Amazing.
***
"Yunling, what are you doing here so late?" The master asked the girl sternly.
Santal was even more scared because she intuitively understood that the further conversation depends on what she will say. My tongue was numb.
- I was ... going to my room. But first I wanted to go to the library, take it to read, - it seemed to Santal as if someone was speaking for her with her mouth. And she was even grateful for it. The necessary words pop up by themselves.
- I see, - Dooku turned around and went to the left side.
And Santal stood confused, not knowing what to do - to rush after her, not knowing what else to say (and she really did not know and did not understand), or to go where she originally intended.
While she was thinking, the master had managed to get far away. Santal wanted to catch up, but thought: what will she say to him at all? Just facts and compliments. This begs the question: and what?
- You fought so hard.... It was so... Great... I heard that you were a student of Yoda himself... Santal suddenly uttered aloud in one breath.
- Thank you, - Dooku heard even at this distance, turned around and walked on.
Santal, feeling a little relieved, quickly ran to the library and went to her room.
And after some time, the Santal clan received a real surprise. When the children entered the classroom, Master Yoda was already waiting for them.
- Max, hand out the swords. They are in the drawer on the left.
Everyone was shocked. They finally began to be trained to wield a lightsaber! And Max asked, worried:
- Are they real?
The other Younglings laughed. Yoda giggled.
- We will study the training ones. So that you don't get hurt, but learn the basics.
We started with the simplest movements. And the first discovery that the daughter of the Jedi made was that only the hilt of the sword has weight. Because of this, there were difficulties when performing exercises. Without feeling the blade, you can turn it in the wrong place and burn it-fortunately, not so much.
Anyway, the first impression is always unforgettable. Santal was sure that even if many years passed, she would still not forget how she first took a lightsaber. Let it be a training one. It's simple.... I can't put it into words. The daughter of the Jedi was sure: instead of choosing the right words, you should just let her hold this beautiful thing, the symbol of the Order, in her hand. Only then will it become clear what sensations are entering the brain at this moment. How an unprecedented feeling spreads through the whole body in different streams.
Another good news for the girl was that Yoda will teach. The one she respected the most. She even came up with a nickname for him - the Wisest.
"You should always rely on your feelings in everything," the grand master said, and Santal tried to absorb every word like a sponge.
Throughout the training, the girl stood up in different poses, then in one position she held a small sword, then in another. And so far it has worked out well. Everyone has.
It is not surprising, because so far, being younglings, children were taught only the First, the easiest, form of combat.
But then, as it should be in such cases, it became more difficult. One day, Yoda announced at the beginning of the lesson that the lessons would change. Now the younglings will learn to perform slightly more complex acrobatic tricks with somersaults, jumps, and so on. Of course, they have done this before, but from now on it will be a little more difficult. Plus, a sword is added. Not just training different stands and swings, standing firmly on your feet - now the type of exercise "sword plus acrobatics" is added. For example, you will need to jump up and make some movement with a training sword.
That's when Santal started having big problems. The old fear returned. She was afraid of tumbling, jumping or anything else before, because she was afraid of falling, of getting a fracture. I didn't want to disfigure myself. I was afraid of damage forever.
Although such serious injuries had never happened to the girl, she still did not want to experience such sensations on herself. That's why I was afraid. Each time losing faith in their own strength.
It is very strange that most of her fellow clansmen did not experience such problems. They calmly did what they said, without fear of consequences. Especially Max. Santal immediately realized: let him go, he will only be engaged in physical training all the time.
But they were also timid, like her. Svante was afraid, but he tried to do it. Justin was careful, but he tried anyway.
One day Santal got tired of all this. I thought, others are not afraid, they do it somehow. And what about her? Like it's worse than the others? As a result, at the next lesson, I was so brave that I tried. Unfortunately, it was unsuccessful.
The girl was hurt - not much, of course, but it was still a shame. Especially when the others laughed softly. Barely able to wait until the end of classes, Santal ran out of the room unnoticed, carefully watching the fellow clansmen and the master. Fortunately, no one stopped her. Although the girl still thought that Yoda knew everything, but decided to keep silent. Probably, everything was already clear, so there is no need to ask. It is written on the forehead, simply put. Moreover, everything was happening in front of everyone.
Fortunately, it was the end of the school day, and the daughter of the Jedi could safely look for a place to cry. But wherever she went, there was either at least someone everywhere, or there was just the certainty that someone would appear later. Santal could not imagine any completely secluded places. And suddenly I remembered. The map! We need to look at it more closely.
After a few minutes, carefully studying every detail, the girl found the perfect place. Ventilation! But how to get into it there? There was a ventilation vent in her room, but to get there, you need to jump high, which Santal was afraid to do, and did not know how.
I had to look elsewhere. Finally, the Jedi daughter found a place where the passage to the ventilation system opens low, so that she could push the hatch back there, climb in and close it again.
At that moment, Santal realized that the desire to cry had decreased a little, but the desire to hide deep inside had not. So it took a long time before the girl got tired. She walked for a very long time through the newly opened new maze. I went through a lot of turns, a couple of times I found abysses with giant fans and ran away in fear, because I was afraid of heights, until I found the perfect dead end, sat down in a corner. There, Santal Sabura finally gave way to tears.
***
"It looks like I'll have to accept it, although I don't want to. I hope Nobi is right, and Santal is fine, studying and all that. He lives in excellent conditions. Oh, why did I say that?! Oh, if only everything could be turned back. I wouldn't be in such a hurry. Maybe I had a chance to convince him to come back, and I missed it. Although our niece has never lived on her own before, Nobi believes that she adapts quickly. And we will think about her all the time while she is studying.
But I'm sure she'll forget about us. We took care of her, and she will forget. And when Santal grows up, she will suddenly remember, most likely, and will come to our common grave. Because by this time we will die of loneliness and not being needed by anyone. How are we going to live now? For what? How are we without you-eh?"
Elina Sabura gave way to tears, and then went to prepare the table. That evening, for the umpteenth time, the table was set rather sparsely. Just two plates and two glasses. The wonderful niece of Elina and Nobi did not have lunch with them anymore.
***
Shrinking into a ball and being very upset not only because of today, but also because she was in such a situation because of that kidnapper, Santal did not immediately notice the presence of another Jedi.
- Hi there. What happened? Why are you crying?
The daughter of the Jedi really did not want to show a tear-stained face, because she did not even move her ear. However, the young guy, as she understood from his voice, had his own opinion on this matter. Suddenly, the girl felt a hand on her shoulder. It was impossible not to turn around here.
Santal turned around. Very close to her, to her right, sat a really young guy with brown hair and gray-blue eyes. The look is very attentive and sympathetic. In other words, he is filled with a desire to take part in someone else's trouble.
- What's your name? the girl asked, sobbing.
"I'm a trainee padawan. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.
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youarejesting · 3 years
Text
Mania.9
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[MASTER LIST] [Mania Master list]
Rating: Mature 18+ Pairing: BTS OT7 Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Comedy, Omegaverse Words: 1.4k Blood types: Namjoon, Jhope, Jungkook, Yoongi (A) Taehyung (AB) Jin, Jimin and Yoongi (O) (Jimin in real life is an A blood type)
Summary: At eighteen everyone takes a blood test to find out their blood types. A, B, or O. Each blood type represents the person’s secondary gender Alpha, Beta or Omega and can be Dominant (+) or Recessive (-).
When small thin Yoongi receives his letter he doesn’t expect A+. There was no way he was an Alpha especially not a dominant. But as time passes he shows no Alpha nor Omega tendencies and frankly he doesn’t care. Working in his father’s electrical business helps pay the bills but Yoongi’s real passion is music.
One very hot day in the roof space of a luxury apartment that Yoongi is rewiring an intoxicatingly pleasant smell churns his insides and he finds himself in need of something to quench his thirst.
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Yoongi spent the rest of the day working on the song. Hoseok and Namjoon left him alone in the makeshift studio, they hadn’t heard what he had done in the booth but they were excited to see what he would present to them.
Yoongi dared not mess with the original copy of the track, he made an exact duplicate which he then began tweaking. After 3 hours and a few rerecords, layering and adlibs he was done. Stepping from the studio Yoongi stopped by the bathroom before raiding the kitchen once more.
Thinking about making another Iced americano, Yoongi went about the kitchen looking for a glass. It was a truly lavish home and seeing his tools by the stove a realization struck him. He hadn’t finished wiring the house. He had let himself get distracted and was a little ashamed. Taking the tools he had abandoned, thought of his coffee lingering in his head.
“Hey, I am sorry about not finishing my work, I can install the fan in the dining hall if you are okay with me turning off the power again.” Yoongi scratched his foot against his other leg trying to appear nonchalant, his hands buried in the robe he was wearing. “Not right now as you are watching something but just whenever you are ready.”
“We should probably take a break from this because it’s almost lunch,” Namjoon ordered and the room bloomed with movement like some atrocious unsynchronized dance. Perhaps contemporary or interpretive that symbolized the chaos in Yoongi’s mind. He watched some stand and stretch twisting their spines this way and that to hear the satisfying pops and cracks. 
Taehyung stretched out on the couch, before rolling off onto his feet and straightening his body until it was upright. “We should think about what we should make for lunch.”
“Yoongi do you want some clothes?” Seokjin asked, in all honesty, Yoongi had forgotten he wasn’t wearing anything other than the robe. He had grown comfortable and wasn’t ready to dress. 
“No, thanks. This is comfortable,” he fiddled with the sleeves. Namjoon bit his lip and muttered 'cute'. Yoongi pressed his lips together and looked away. “I will turn off the power and finish the work quickly.”
Yoongi was thinking about what he had to do to get everything done, he turned off the main safety switch which was tucked away in the broom closet by the front door. He saw his coat hanging between theirs and his boots nestled between some sneakers and dress shoes. It warmed his heart to see how caring the band was towards him, he had expected them to be snobbish celebrities but in reality, they were kind individuals that accepted him. There was even a part of him that expected to be tossed aside early that morning once they had had their fun. 
Nestled into the robe for a moment, appreciating the soft texture and gentle scent. Yoongi never thought his life was lacking, nor did he feel like he needed or wanted anything specific. He was always happy in his solitary life, where nothing particular happened. 
Yet there was a part of him that felt odd like he was going to float away but he just couldn’t, stuck uncomfortably in between. His heart was racing, his breathing labored and his body felt like it was buzzing. What did this mean?
Yoongi couldn’t tell what these feelings were and what they meant but it was almost sickening, did he want to cry or hide or just scream really loudly to release the pent-up energy that was hyping him up.
Climbing onto the table Yoongi began working on the fan, installing it quickly and connecting the wires with skilled fingers. A chair moved across the timber floors and when Yoongi looked down he was met by a shy smile from Jimin. The younger boy watched him intrigued by his work.
“Do you need any help?” he said lazily, playing in the box of tools. Spinning the spanner playfully, and putting on Yoongi’s tool belt that he wasn’t currently wearing.
“Uh yeah can you pass me the pliers with the red rubber handle?” Jimin riffled through the toolbox and gave a hopeful expression holding up the pliers. “Yup, they are the ones.”
Yoongi had finished wiring everything and had to lift the fan. Jimin stood up on the table and lifted the fan, resting it on his shoulder allowing Yoongi to work freely. Yoongi attached the fan to the roof and his momentary distraction was over, bringing back the unpleasant feeling.
“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked, confused, “Did we do something wrong?”
“No, I just feel funny.”
“Tell me about it,” Jimin sat down on the table and began packing up Yoongi’s tools and copper wire. “What does it feel like?”
Yoongi sat beside the younger male and began explaining how he felt, Jimin sat listening attentively gently rubbing Yoongi’s knee to help soothe him. “What were you thinking about or doing when the feeling started.”
“I was turning off the power.” Yoongi took a moment to think about what was going on when the feeling started, “and I was thinking about my coat and shoes in the cupboard. I was thinking about how you guys were nice and not snob celebrities and how I liked being here… ah!” 
“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked, slipping off the table and standing in front of Yoongi holding his shoulders delicately.
“My heart is racing faster, maybe it’s an omega thing, my hormones must be going crazy.” He sighed, rubbing his chest, his hands shaking, “I just feel jittery.”
“Look at me, I will say some certain phrase or word and you will close your eyes and think about it, allowing yourself to feel for a few seconds and then tell me what you felt,” Jimin said, taking Yoongi’s eyes closed as confirmation to continue. “What about the word ‘leaving'?”
Yoongi thought about the word and immediately thought about leaving this apartment and never seeing them again. There was a heat in his chest that made his throat burn uncomfortably, his lips parting and mouth running dry. “Uh…” he swallowed, eyes stinging. “It doesn’t feel good.”
“Did you think of leaving this house?” Yoongi’s eyes snapped open, shocked that he had guessed it. Was Yoongi missing something that was obvious to everyone else, he admitted he wasn’t the best at processing his feelings, preferring to bottle them up and forget about them or if they didn’t leave him he would rap about them. Jimin smiled knowingly, taking his hands. “Close your eyes and think about the word ‘stay’”
Yoongi followed his instructions and felt his heart skip a beat when he heard the word, he felt warm and fuzzy followed by the sickening buzzing in his body. Yoongi’s eyes opened slowly and he cringed, “It felt weird again, jittery.”
“Hmm…” Jimin took Yoongi’s chin between his thumb and crooked forefinger and pulled his chin forward pressing a kiss to his lips. Yoongi thought Jimin’s lips were soft and bouncy, he tasted sweet and kissed passionately. It was different from Hoseok’s.
Hoseok’s mouth made his head cloud quickly, it made his skin grow warm and his heart would race. Hoseok’s lips, like his voice, were like fizzy citrus, bubbly and bright. Yoongi was brought from his comparison by Jimin’s lips trailing down his neck.
The two weren’t fighting for dominance but both just trying to make the other feel good, Yoongi carded his fingers through Jimin’s hair and pulled gently once he reached the nape. Jimin’s moan traveled like electricity down Yoongi’s body striking in the pit of his stomach and made his dick twitch. He lost his breath when the younger male untied his robe and opened it, exposing Yoongi to the warm summer air and letting his smaller hands drift over his torso. 
Jimin guided him to lay back and gently grasped Yoongi’s rapidly hardening length, Yoongi hissed through his teeth when the young omega kissed the tip. Yoongi lurched forward when Jimin expertly took him in his mouth. Reaching out with desperate hands Jimin caught them, sliding his smaller fingers between Yoongi’s longer ones.
Yoongi felt his body tense as his orgasm cascaded over him, his back lifting off the mahogany table and his toes curling against the wood's edge. Jimin pulled away using the robe to gently clean Yoongi. “What if you stay?” Jimin breathed resting his chin on Yoongi’s tummy.
Yoongi looked at Jimin for a moment before he kissed him, moving to pull him on the table. It was more familiar for Yoongi to take the lead as he spent most of his life thinking he was a dominant alpha. He rolled the two over until Jimin laid underneath him and began returning the favor arrogantly. Yoongi knew he had skills with his tongue and fingers.
It was almost impressive how quick and hard Jimin came, his moans were so loud and seductive. It was no surprise that the others had heard and searched out the cause of the young omega’s calls. Yoongi was trying his best to soothe Jimin’s trembling form when a commanding voice cut through the room.
“Well, well, well.” Jungkook said hands on his hips looking amused but playing as if he was pissed off, “Someone was feeling a little slutty weren’t they, couldn’t wait could they?”
Jimin gave a sly grin, rolling onto his side, “Yoongi was feeling upset, so I tried to cheer him up and he returned the favor, really really well might I add, Yoongi’s head game is strong.”
“Is it now, I guess I don’t have to give you head for a week then?” Jungkook walked into the room and sat at one of the chairs throwing one leg over the other amused at the two redressing atop the table. The others all sat around, Seokjin sitting on Namjoon’s knee raising an eyebrow.
“What were you upset about?” Jin asked curiously.
“Uh…” Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck embarrassed.
“He said he was feeling overwhelmed with emotion and when we discussed he said he really likes us and being here and seeing how we were treating him so nicely, he was a little upset at the thought of ever having to leave,” Jimin mumbled crawling across the table to Jungkook who ignored him so he sat on Taehyung’s instead of trying to spite his mate. Taehyung accepted him with open arms and nuzzled his face into the back of his neck.
Yoongi had tied his robe and moved to slide down off the table but Hoseok stood up blocking his exit making Yoongi freeze nervously. Did they pity him now, was it truly just them being nice to Yoongi for a good time, and afterward they would never have to see each other again?
“It was just a silly thought, you guys are famous. I understand you like to have a good time and it means nothing.” Yoongi turned from Hoseok and went to exit the other side of the table but Jungkook stood up blocking that exit too. Namjoon and Taehyung stood up Jimin and Seokjin moving to stand at their seats at the table blocking all exits.
“Would you like to stay?” Namjoon asked, “I promise you we aren’t the type of people to play around, we have taken quite the liking to you Min Yoongi.”
Yoongi shrank sitting back on his heels, half facing Namjoon and the other half facing Hoseok. He felt like he was the center of attention and it was kind of an itchy feeling. Yoongi turned to Jimin who made a gesture to his chest and spoke softly, “What do you feel?”
Hoseok gently brushed his fingers across Yoongi’s neck, “I want you to take your time and think it over but, you have been calling to me since we met and not because you are an Omega and I am an Alpha.” His voice was deep and yet still so bright and bubbly, Yoongi could almost taste the citrus fizz. “I just feel drawn to you and if you decide to stay, I would like to date you with the intention of one day becoming mates if that is what you wish. I would never force you to do anything?” 
Yoongi pressed his lips together, his heart racing. He was anxious, nervous, and an all-around mess. His body flared with hormones and the Alphas growled before the wave of pheromones died back down. “He is stressed, perhaps we should give him some time to think. You know stress messes with Omega's heats.” Jin scolded
“I don’t want to leave, I am not sure how I feel but I know I don’t like the idea of leaving,” Yoongi muttered fiddling with the hem of the robe he was wrapped in. Yoongi was laid back on the table and hands caressed him from every side, laying him out on the table like a beautiful crystal centerpiece.
He was ravished without mercy, his mind reeling with their tender words and praises. Yoongi hadn’t cried since he was young but after everything they each asked him sincerely to stay. He buried his face in Hoseok’s neck and let his emotions out. 
It was different from his music, it was scary and different but he felt safe and the warmth blooming in his chest wasn’t the waves of his heat but love filling him slowly until the weight was gone and all he knew and all he felt was soft and good.
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Tags: @staerryminimini​
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applejongho · 3 years
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a vampire's guide to blood dealing | bang chan
genre: humor, supernatural, adventure, dumbassery
pairing: vampire!chan and female vampire!reader named Mei (platonic)
description: Newly turned vampire Chan and old vampire Mei form a friendship through their shared hunger for blood, but can’t help but get into wildly bloody situations as their friendship blooms.
word count: 5.9k
warnings: mentions of blood, vampires, swearing, (a small amount of) violence
author's note: SURPRISE, I'M YOUR SECRET SANTA @meiiyue!! Did you guess me correctly when you had a hunch as to what my identity was at the beginning of the month? ;) You've made my month of December so much fun and I can't wait to start talking with you not behind my chanon pseudonym >:) anyways, chan and mei being dumbasses together, I had a HELLA fun time writing this and I hope you smile when reading <333
masterlist here!
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SHE HAD KNOWN when the tea on his desk, next to the scattered medical papers and signatures that bound people to donating blood, was just a bit too red for any normal tea.
There was also the fact that the tea smelled like blood, but then again, everything smelled like blood at a blood drive. Being a vampire, Mei had to pinch herself every few minutes so she didn’t salivate all over the floor and reveal her bloodthirsty identity. She had no idea how the biology major that was running this drive, and also clearly a vampire by his red tea - Christopher “Chan” Bang - was holding himself together. Perhaps the tea was what kept him tethered to reality. But a vampire running a blood drive - that was the act of a being who had lost his mind.
Mei sat in Chan’s desk chair in his office - a white, cramped, doctor’s office that smelled like hand sanitizer - waiting for Chan to realize she was there. She had her feet propped up onto the table, black boots obscuring what seemed to look like calculus homework or chicken scratch. She couldn’t tell. So he studied here as well. Mei couldn’t help but laugh as she looked around his office: paintings of instruments that looked like they came straight out of a museum adorned the walls, a printer sat in the corner that looked like it would fall apart if it was asked to print one more paper, and a coffee pot with stains that would likely never come off. This was most certainly the living space of a tired and stressed college student - he had hidden his vampirism well. She doubted he even used the coffee pot anymore, Mei herself couldn’t bring herself to swallow anything except for blood.
She wondered how she hadn’t noticed the other vampire sooner. But now that she had found him, she was determined to befriend him and possibly help him; he couldn’t have been a vampire for too long. Mei shuffled her feet so they sat over some chemistry homework instead. She hoped she looked intimidating because it would have been embarrassing for a two-hundred-year-old vampire to not strike some sort of visceral and primal emotion into a baby vampire.
Like on cue, Chan entered the office with such frantic movements that she swore he would trip on himself. He had tousled black hair and a white lab coat snug on his shoulders that looked a little too perfect to be a real lab coat, like one a small kindergartener would wear on career day. He also carried a clipboard, and seemed to notice his franticness before he noticed Mei because he made eye contact with her but was much too delayed in his reaction to say anything until at least a few seconds later.
“Hello?” He said after a few seconds, staring at her. He looked like he was going to pass out with her feet on the table, or maybe he was just startled that someone was so confidently intruding on his space. Mei kicked her feet back onto the ground.
“Hello,” Mei said in greeting, then gestured to Chan’s cup of tea on his desk. “May I ask what kind of tea this is? It has such a wonderful taste. I couldn’t help but have a taste.”
He looked like he was going to pass out. “It’s a really, um, exotic flavor,” Chan said, placing his clipboard down on his desk. Mei glanced at it. It looked like a medical form. “You wouldn’t like it. Or, no, I’m really surprised you like it.” His voice had a clear accent - British? Mei was slightly surprised he wasn’t asking why she was in his office. He was probably too worried over the tea.
“Oh, it was bloody delicious, whatever it was,” Mei said. Chan looked like Mei had just found his illegal drug stash. “Okay, I’ll stop teasing. I’m a vampire. And I’m going to be terrified if you’re not also a vampire because it would be weird if you were a human drinking blood.”
Mei hadn’t realized Chan was on edge until his shoulders shrunk down a few inches and he gave a small smile. He was refreshing to see at ease - Mei was far too used to people being scared of her. “You are?” He asked in that hopeful fledgling tone that made her heart clench.
She nodded. “For two hundred years. I’m assuming it’s hardly been a month for you.”
She could tell he tried not to be phased by her age. It was routine for humans and young vampires to not be able to comprehend her age. “Three weeks, actually,” he laughed nervously. “I signed up to run this a few days before I got turned. I would have never accepted had I known...”
He trailed off, but Mei understood. “Baby vampires are usually more thirsty than adult vampires, and even I felt a little unhinged walking by all of the vials. I can’t imagine how you feel.”
Almost on cue, Chan reached for his tea cup and took a long, quenching drink. Mei watched him drink. He let out a breath after he finished, and his hair flopped in front of his eyes. “It’s painful,” he said simply. He let out a nervous laugh and scratched his head. “I was going to come in here for a break from the smell. But you’re here.” He stared at her for a moment, and Mei could see the gears turning in his brain. “Can you help me?”
It was such a vague question, but Mei nodded with certainty. Can you help me be a vampire? Can you help me not kill everyone in this blood drive, because I seriously might? “Let’s first give you a mask to wear. Like one of those disposable doctor masks?”
“I already thought of that, it doesn’t work,” Chan groaned, but Mei shook her head at him. 
“Do you have gum?” She asked. “Peppermint flavored?” He wordlessly gestured to the main drawer in the desk, confusion etched onto his face.
Mei pulled out the gum. “I know you don’t want to eat it, and you don’t need to.” She unwrapped a piece, but threw out the gum, holding out the wrapper for him. “Stick this into your mask. I don’t think it will mask the scent completely, but it will certainly be a distraction.” She raised her eyebrows at him and urged him to take the wrapper. He took it, looking at her with wariness stretched across his face.
“Really?” He asked, pulling a blue mask out of his lab coat. He grinned and slipped the mask on, sticking the wrapper in it.
“Absolutely,” Mei said, not absolute at all. She had thought of this out of the blue. He seemed to relax at her certainty.
“Thank you,” he said. Even with a mask on, Mei could tell he was smiling. It was a smile of gratitude, a smile of being seen. “It’s... it’s so relieving that there’s another vampire on campus. It’s nice to know you’re here. Even if you broke into my office and ominously waited for me in my office chair.”
“That’s what I’m here for, I suppose,” Mei laughed. “I would say that I’d help you with the blood drawing, but I’m a music major. I certainly don’t have any license to perform anything related to human health.”
“Can you help me pack up the vials after the blood drive is over?” Chan asked quickly. “It’s just me and two more people, and they’re assigned to clean up. I’d trust you to, you know, not tamper with them.” Mei noticed he avoided saying the word blood. He must have been fighting his thirst harder than what he was letting on.
“Yes, and take another sip of your tea,” Mei recommended. He did so, rather rushed. He wiped his mouth and pushed his mask back on when he was done and gave a cooky grin that she could see through his eyes.
"I have to get back to... the blood tests, but I suppose you can stay here." He stood, silent for a moment. "Feel free to do my chemistry homework if you're bored."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Mei said sweetly, causing Chan to give a snarky eye roll. Then, he exited the room to continue with the blood drive.
Nearly six months later and with another semester gone by, Chan and Mei had formed an unlikely, yet close friendship. Mei preferred to say they were blood-bound because between Mei's music theory classes and Chan's cellular biology homework, the two of them had no academic similarities. They had first hung out together in the library of the university, both always carrying opaque flasks of blood that felt like an inside joke between the two of them. They had upgraded to spending a few weekends together, and now they were practically inseparable. Chan knew all of Mei’s quirks, like how she had to practice guitar in the mornings and piano at night, or how she had to always be in the same practice room to get anything done. Mei knew Chan’s sense of humor, which was essentially knowing his entire personality - quick puns that could slip by as casual comments, or teasing that was prolonged and never-ending. He had gone an entire month speaking in a British accent when Mei had mistakenly called him British. There were certain phrases he had taken upon himself to abuse profusely.
“Bloody hell, I’m Australian!” He had told her, giving a teasing grin. “Aren’t you old enough to have traveled to other countries to know their certain accents?”
“I’ve been all over Europe,” Mei had corrected. “Mostly Spain, Portugal, and France, and not so much Britain. There are so many different dialects of English in Britain that I had just assumed that your accent was from there, so shut up.”
Chan had taken a sip of his blood tea and had given the evil look of a taunting younger brother. “Then I suppose your mind isn’t as sharp as you thought it was. It makes sense, considering you’ve been un-alive for more than two centuries.”
“I’m going to stake you,” Mei had said sweetly.
Another fond memory was when they had gone to a museum so Mei could narrate what actually had happened in history as they walked through exhibits. What they discovered instead was a love letter Mei had written to a female lover when she was a young vampire that had an entire exhibit to itself. And, as historians usually were, they had erased the gay undertones of the note. Chan had to stifle giggles as he read an excerpt from the exhibit’s description that very proudly declared the note full of heterosexuality, while Mei had to hold back on murdering every employee in the museum. Mysteriously, that was the last time they had ever gone to that museum.
Yet none of these experiences or moments could top the underground blood ring.
Mei and Chan, during the semester, stole small amounts of blood from the monthly blood drive a few biological science majors held, enough to keep them satisfied for at least until the next blood drive. But now the spring semester was ending, and unlike winter break, summer break was much longer and hotter. Neither of them loved going outside because, as vampires, too much time in the sun would make them thirstier and sometimes blister.
“So what should we do?” Chan asked, sitting with his legs crossed on Mei’s couch in her apartment. “You’ve been a vampire much longer than I’ve been one. What have you done in the summer?”
“Back when I got my last degree, cameras were really terrible and too weak to see me,” Mei said, squinting while reading something on her computer. Mei had gotten a creative writing degree back in the 80s in Spain, and a history degree in the 60s. She liked to point out frequently that she would have gotten many more degrees, but sexism prevented her for a long time. “Which had made it much easier to steal blood or drink from a sleeping person, regardless of the season. But cameras are much better nowadays, and while they still wouldn’t be able to see either of us that well, they would see things being moved around and possibly changes in shadow. And we don’t want that. Also, with you being a new vampire that’s not an expert at stealthily drinking blood from someone, we can’t just have you slinking around peoples’ houses at night.” She sighed and shut her computer, then gave Chan a look that made his spine dance.
“I have a few ideas, but none of them are that ethical or easy,” she said, grimacing. “Do you have any?”
Chan pursed his lips. “I could try hosting another blood drive?” Chan suggested, then discarded the thought. “Or we could go to the hospital I intern at and steal blood from there.” He said that calmly, normally, and Mei was a little shocked at how nonchalant he had become regarding blood acquisition. He used to cringe when Mei gave crazy stories of how she had taken blood from people.
“Hospitals should keep their blood, though,” Mei said, ignoring Chan’s surprised expression. “It’s one thing to take a few blood vials from healthy college students. It’s another to withhold a hospital’s stock that could potentially save someone’s life.” Chan wanted to mention that the blood collected from the university’s drives eventually made it to the hospital, but he didn’t want to create an ethical debate. They were already unethical as it was, being undead beings that drank blood.
“Okay,” he said, sighing. “So what are your ideas? Because those are mine.”
Mei gave a little smile, and Chan got nervous. “Mei, what are you thinking?”
“I was thinking of an illegal blood ring,” Mei said casually, then folded her arms over her chest and frowned at him when Chan gave an expression that was equivalent to her saying she had murdered someone. “I know your track record is perfect, but as a desperate vampire, I don’t know what else to tell you. Would you rather starve?” Chan opened his mouth to speak, but Mei held up a hand. “Hear me out.”
A million thoughts were running through his head, but Chan did as she said. She was right, he did have a perfect track record because it was imperative for someone that wanted to go into medicine that it was spotless. A blood ring was the perfect addition to his record if he wanted to throw away his degree and any chance of employment.
“There are more blood rings than you’d think, and a lot of them aren’t nearly as scary or dangerous as you might think,” Mei started. “Think of doctors that are fed up with blood donation regulations because certain people, such as gay people, can’t donate blood. Think of psychopaths that want to sell tainted or drugged blood to scrape a profit. Think of people without ID that need blood but can’t get it through lawful means. These are the types of people we’d encounter, and considering that we’re both strong and smart vampires, being friendly with them, stealing blood, and then jetting wouldn’t be hard. We’d only have to do it once,” she said as Chan’s expression darkened with doubt. “I don’t love the idea either, but I think it’s doable. Allow me to ask around, and I should be able to find a place for us to go and get our blood within a week.”
“And what about next summer?” Chan asked. “And the summer after?”
“By then, you’ll hopefully know how to take blood from humans in their sleep,” Mei said evenly. “I should have taught you earlier, but I didn’t. Please, Chan,” she said and gave a look. “Just go with me. I promise things will be fine. And if it doesn’t, we can just change our names and go to university somewhere else.”
“You’re insane,” Chan groaned. There was nothing smart about this plan. Chan could name several things that could go wrong off of the top of his head: the blood they could get would be so drugged that both of them would kill someone in their insanity, they could get caught or ratted out and lose their place in the university, or they could simply get killed by the blood dealers. But Chan begrudgingly agreed with Mei because it was the only plan they had. And blood, as delicious as it was, was slippery to deal with. This was simply one shady deed in a life that would last an eternity. He was too young to understand the small weight of this blood ring that would carry on his immortal life. He had to trust Mei.
“And besides,” Mei said, climbing off of her bed to grab a bag of blood from her fridge, “you can think of it as a heroic job. Maybe we can rat out the blood dealers to the cops, steal their blood, but then tell the police they destroyed it all in a hairy crossfire. You’re not the bad guy, Chan, nor a vigilante. You’re just a vampire that needs his needs met.”
So a little more than a week later, Chan found himself in the passenger seat of Mei’s Toyota, Mei driving like she was on her way to the grocery store to pick up some eggs. “Mei, I don’t know if we should do this,” Chan said, shifting nervously in his seat and rubbing his hands together.
Mei turned smoothly to a dirt road. The highway they had been on before had been smooth, so the new bumpy terrain made the two of them bounce around in the car. It just made Chan even more nervous - this was territory that wasn’t crossed often. “Chan,” Mei said in the same way a mother would soothe a child, “we’ll be fine. Like I said before, I wouldn’t be able to do this alone. You’re here for backup. I told the dealer you have a black belt and can make shit fly if things don’t go as planned.” 
“I don’t have a black belt,” Chan felt he had to point out.
“And they don’t need to know that,” Mei said calmly. She turned again. Somehow this road was even bumpier. Chan felt like he was going to throw up. “You’re here for looks and intimidation. And if things do go awry, you look strong enough to do damage.”
Chan groaned. It was night out, and Mei turned off her headlights. It wasn’t a problem because both of them could see fine during the night; it was so no one else could see them. “Just relax,” she continued, which made Chan even less relaxed. “Think of the blood.”
Thinking of blood did make him feel better, much to his relief. He sat dazed while Mei navigated through the dirt path, thinking of the result rather than the work he had to do to get there.
Mei parked the car in between some trees and the two of them got out. Mei adjusted her hoodie and sunglasses, which made Chan pull out his sunglasses as well. He felt like a fake criminal putting them on. They only did this in movies. “This way,” Mei said, her voice amplified because of the silence that hovered around them. Trees were everywhere and Chan had no idea how Mei had managed to maneuver the car into the forest. He hoped a quick escape wasn’t going to be needed.
Mei trudged through the forest, Chan following. She led him to an old shack that looked like it was one breeze away from toppling onto itself. Chan had to duck to not hit his head on the door frame. The inside smelled exactly how a dilapidated and abandoned shack should smell like - grimy, slimy, and dusty. Then, of course, there was the smell of blood. He knew Mei could smell it too by how she stood straighter, or perhaps that was to seem more intimidating, because Chan had just noticed a few more figures already in the shack.
“I presume you’re Em and Bert,” said a cool, feminine voice across from them. The blood dealer.
“Bert?” Chan growled, quiet enough so that only Mei could hear, but she only smiled.
“That’s us,” Mei said, her voice devoid of the humor and carefreeness it usually held.
Even in the shadows, Chan could see the other woman give a smile. Despite the hood and mask she wore, the blood dealer wasn’t too incredibly intimidating. Chan thought she was sitting at first, but she was just short. A small lock of curly and blonde hair stuck out from her hood, giving the illusion that she was a small child. He almost snickered, but he was nervous himself.
Then he paid attention to her bodyguards. Three bodyguards were surrounding her, all tall, dark, and intimidating. The one to her right looked like he had muscles that could clock him into next week, while the one to her left had eyes of steel that he could feel scanning him. The one in the middle, right behind her, had the veiniest hands he had ever seen. He imagined them choking Mei or himself and he shuddered. Like the girl, they all had hoods and masks to conceal their identity.
“And do you have the money?” The girl said, a lilt to her voice. Mei nodded and pulled out enough money in cash to pay for an entire semester of school. Chan was amazed at his self-control to not do a backflip in the middle of the shack. Where had she gotten so much? He decided he’d have to ask later, or never.
The girl’s expression didn’t change at the sight of the money. “Put it on the table,” she said, then waved a hand to a three-legged table that sat in the middle of the room. Mei placed the wad of cash onto the table, then swiftly stepped away from it like the table was going to suddenly grab her hand if she didn’t move fast enough. 
Chan was hit with a pang of anxiety. Why hadn’t Mei asked to see the blood first? The bodyguard to the girl’s left pocketed the money. They could be murdered right there, and Chan still had to study for his anatomy final. He glanced over to Mei, who appeared to be unfazed. He gave her a look that he hoped she interpreted as, “do you still have an ounce of sense rattling in that brain?”
He didn’t need her to answer, however, because the girl motioned her hand. The buff bodyguard to her right bent down and picked up a box - Chan’s heart sank - a small box. His vampire senses started screaming because now the scent of blood had a visual paired with it, but there wasn't even that much. At most, this box of full blood vials would last Mei and Chan a month, which was less time than the two of them had for summer. The bodyguard placed it onto the same table where Mei had placed her money. This time, Chan took the case of blood. It was heavier than he had suspected, but it was still so little.
“You promised more,” Mei said evenly, echoing Chan’s worries. “I brought the money you wanted. Where’s the rest?”
“This is all we have left,” the girl said smoothly, and Chan had read enough crime novels to know that was a twisted truth. Likely, someone else had outsold them. And based on the amount of money Mei had given, that was an accomplished feat.
But even so, Chan could smell more blood somewhere, much like a human could smell both cookies and brownies being baked in a kitchen. Was it the blood from the girl and her guards? He didn’t think so, because that wasn’t the case when he was surrounded by fellow university students.
He didn’t have to look at her to know that Mei had smelled as much. Mei’s mouth twitched.  “I see more right there,” she said, pointing vaguely towards the girl. The bodyguards stiffened.
“We have no more,” the girl repeated, her tone stricter than any of her bodyguards’ body language. Her eyes narrowed, and Chan caught the hue of them - blue. “Perhaps if you had offered more money, or if you were a bit more reputable, I would have-”
The girl was unable to finish her sentence, because Mei had darted forward, faster than any human could have ever moved. Before Chan realized what she was doing, Mei already had a hold on a second box, identical to the one he was holding. It must have been hiding somewhere, and for whatever reason Mei had managed to see it.
Chaos ensued. The girl screamed, Chan screamed too, and Mei had delivered a blow to the muscular bodyguard, sending him to the floor. He realized that he was supposed to act the part of the strong sidekick, but Chan’s rationality and legs had a different idea. He was not fit to fight. While Mei sized up another bodyguard, Chan took off running. He ran out of the shack, blood vials rattling violently in his hands. He realized too late that under no circumstances could he drop the box of blood - it would defeat the purpose of Mei’s inception.
To his chagrin, he realized one of the bodyguards, the one with veiny hands, had taken off running behind him, and Chan deliriously wondered if he was good at playing piano as he dove into the dark forest around the shack.
“Stop!” The bodyguard yelled as if Chan would obey. He ran further into the forest, grateful it was nighttime. He could see easily, and based on how the bodyguard faltered around the frequent trees, he didn’t have the same advantage. Chan slowed his running when he saw how far behind the bodyguard was and crouched by a particularly large tree, cradling the vials of blood like they were a newborn baby.
He heard the bodyguard come closer, but Chan had faith that he was hidden and quiet enough to not be noticed. “Shit!” The bodyguard swore when he must have been about ten feet away. Chan remained perfectly still, crouched low, not breathing. He was dimly aware of the spiraling and sharp pain coming from his toes because of the way he was sitting, and he decided to ignore it. Then, without warning, Chan lost his balance and toppled onto the forest floor, the vials crashing into each other and creating a cacophony of noise. It was Chan’s turn to swear.
The bodyguard was upon him within seconds. Chan had barely gathered himself and the blood, and was still struggling miserably on the forest ground, pain exploding from his toes. “Are you insane?” The bodyguard growled, his voice rough. Chan squirmed away from the bodyguard and barely missed the bodyguard’s lunge towards him. He couldn’t tell if he was trying to reach for his neck or the blood.
“Yeah,” Chan answered him, tripping into a standing position, but the guard was too close for him to make a run for it. The adrenaline racing through his system had adrenaline, and briefly he wondered how Mei was doing. Could she hold off two bodyguards and that girl on her own? He wasn’t doing well even with one. His knees began to shake, and for a moment he wished he had never become a vampire - he wouldn’t have ever been in this situation. He wouldn’t have been moments from death or capture.
“You must be truly desperate if you’re willing to steal from people like us,” the bodyguard snarled. “What were you gonna do with it all, resell it? Give it to authorities to rat us out?” He backed Chan into a tree. “Or fucking drink it?”
Chan’s eyes widened, and a lightbulb glowed in his mind with a ridiculous idea. For the past few months, Chan had adjusted to being a vampire, but he couldn’t help but often felt alienated even with Mei being a new addition in his life. He avoided drinking blood in front of a human and even broke out into a sweat when it was in a concealed and opaque container in fear of their terrified reaction. Now, Chan took this opportunity to turn the tables in his favor. He just hoped he wasn’t the greatest fool for doing it.
“It tastes like cranberry juice,” Chan said in a voice that was much too cheery for how unhinged he felt internally. Then, without warning, he uncorked one of the vials of blood and chugged it. He let it slosh around in his mouth as a red sea, he gurgled it, he let it run over his mouth and onto his chin, and he prayed to some god, a god that likely had damned him already, that this plan had an ounce of sense. At least the blood tasted good.
“What the fuck?” The bodyguard choked, which was precisely the reaction Chan had hoped for. Chan kicked out and slammed his leg into the bodyguard, causing him to sputter in surprise before falling to the ground. His head connected with a tree and the sound was sweetly sickening. Chan stood, staring at the man lying unconscious on the floor, staring at his hands, staring at the blood. He must have stood there for a few minutes in stunned silence, before being interrupted by screams and shouts coming from the old shack.
“Seungmin!” A masculine voice shouted, and Chan assumed the voice was referring to the knocked out man lying on the forest floor in front of him. Unfortunate for both of them. A few more screams, and then, “-in the building!”
He heard a crack, and the most horrible, loud sound of splitting wood, metal chafing, and tile cracking overcame all silence in the forest. Chan cringed as he ran back towards the shack, fearful of Mei’s safety.
He emerged from the forest, only to have Mei dart in front of him to seize his wrist. Her hair, done in a ponytail under her hood, had become exposed and frazzled, but otherwise she seemed fine. She was carrying the second box, that special box, under her arm, and Chan wanted to cry with relief. They were both okay, they had done what they had come to do. “Car!” She huffed, then took off running, still gripping Chan. He felt like a rag doll being yanked by his five-year-old owner as Mei dragged him towards their escape.
He threw himself into the car, Mei already driving before his butt hit the seat. He placed his box of blood at his feet and felt out-of-body as Mei drove like a demon out of hell out of the forest and onto the gravel road. Chan had never felt so happy to feel the motion sickness that came from the rough terrain. He glanced over to Mei, who had ripped off her sunglasses. She looked like she had just slain a dragon and was glowing with adrenaline. Chan was filled with the happiness of knowing her. How could he ever have gotten so lucky? He broke into a grin, then began crying with laughter.
“We did it!” He cried, and Mei joined in with him after a few moments. He could hear the tension, fear, and anticipation leave her body as she laughed - a joyful, boisterous, and relieving laugh that seemed to be perfectly in rhythm with the car bouncing on the gravel road.
“We did, didn’t we?” She choked out after her laughter subsided. “But God, Chan, you look like you were shot in the mouth. What happened?”
Chan suddenly remembered his silly vampire distraction, and he burst into laughter all over again. “I scared the daylights out of the bodyguard that chased me by chugging some of the blood,” he giggled. His head was going to fly off of his head in the next few seconds. “It was all I could think of to distract him.”
“Oh my God, Chan,” Mei laughed. “That’s brilliant.” Mei turned, and the car gave a few jolts as it tore into another dirt road. “I destroyed the shack. It was sort of an accident, but it was only a matter of time.”
“And how’d that happen?”
Mei chuckled. "Throwing a bodyguard enough times against a wall causes a lot of strain on the house. I think I crushed everyone in the shack. Oh!" Chan's mouth dropped open as Mei reached into the center pocket on her hoodie and pulled out the wad of cash that she had used to pay for the blood. “There’s this.” She threw it into his lap, and Chan jumped as it touched him.
"Mei!" Chan gasped, unsure whether to laugh or be terrified. "We literally stole from them, and now we cut them short of-"
"Yeah, and they cut us short too," Mei shrugged, having an ethical compass of a seesaw. "Their leader, the little girl, promised me a second box. I was essentially paying for two boxes and she only gave me one. It's only fair. Well, at least for us." Mei stared off into the distance as she drove. "And I bet you smelled the blood of the second box, too. Perhaps she thought she could undercut us. Either way, I hope all four of them are screwed either financially or physically. Honestly, I might have killed the ones in the shack. But now I can pay for my next semester and not die of thirst over the summer." 
She said all of this causally, and Chan didn’t feel like lecturing her. He had sins too, lying unconscious in the forest. Chan also decided not to ask where Mei had gotten her money. He didn't want to, because he knew she didn't have it before this. "I mean, they're blood dealers," he said instead. "I don't think they care about laws or rules. But still..."
"Still nothing, Chan," Mei laughed. "We did it. Can't we celebrate?"
"Ah, two vampire college students stealing blood from a shady group of people that we might have killed. Congratulations to us," Chan said in a mocking voice, but smiled. "We certainly did it. Let's never do it again."
"You can say that again," Mei agreed. Her mouth quirked upward, and she barely suppressed a giggle. "Honestly, I thought we were screwed the entire time," Mei said carefully. "I thought they'd have backup in the forest or around the shack. Me reaching for that second box - that was pure stupidity."
"But we got our blood," Chan said with a note of finality.
"We got our blood," Mei echoed. Against all odds, they had pulled off a plan only a college student could conjure. "If we can do this, finals will be easy."
"Are you sure about that?"
Chan and Mei bickered back and forth over if finals or stealing illegal blood from shady vandals was harder (finals won) until Mei got onto the highway. Homebound and their goal accomplished, the two vampires laughed all the way home. In the sky, the moon's white rays glowed on them, the foil of the sun that they had grown to love as creatures of the night.
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loruleanheart · 3 years
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Desired Fate, Chapter 12
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Zelda poured over stacks of research notes at her writing table. As organized as it was, it was still proving difficult to locate what she was looking for.
The elixir recipe has to be in here somewhere…
She searched through the drawers, finding a neatly folded piece of paper tucked in a journal she’d used to write down field research notes.
Yes, I think this is it...
Zelda unfolded it, quickly appraising the recipe for the spicy elixir she had written down some time ago. She collected these recipes out of morbid fascination. She never imagined she’d be putting one to practical use.
It would be simple to gather the ingredients for the elixir, although she dreaded having to ingest the concoction that consisted of at least one monster part, likely from a bokoblin since they were so common and at least one creature that could give the elixir cold-resistant properties, likely an insect. These elixirs could be strengthened in effect or duration by adding additional monster parts, creatures, or plants.
I’m turning into Link, she thought grimly, recalling how Link had eaten rocks in her presence at least twice during their travels. It would be just like Link to drink one of these bizarre elixirs… or all of them…
Zelda grabbed an empty corked glass container to hold the elixir. She wrinkled her nose, imagining the taste of a potion that was created from the internal organs of a monster, and decided to bring an additional bottle to hold some water to wash it down.
The thought of Astor telling her she has bokoblin breath crossed her mind.
That is if he ever got close enough and we...
Zelda’s heart fluttered in her chest, and it took a moment to compose herself and focus on the task at hand.
She picked up the Sheikah Slate, pulling up its map function, which Purah had shown her recently after she and her fellow researchers had successfully activated the towers all over Hyrule. She studied it and decided the path she would take. The way through Dueling Peaks stood out to her at first, as it was the most well-established path, but taking a second look she saw a quicker, more direct route. Either way, she’d be passing through Kakariko village, which made her a little nervous. What if someone recognized her? Not that it would be the end of the world if someone did, Zelda reassured herself. It just wasn’t often that she went anywhere without an entourage of guards. The worst that could happen is one of the villagers would tell Impa she’d been spotted walking through the village alone. They probably wouldn’t guess where she was going, as Mount Lanayru was still some distance from the village.
She went to her wardrobe to grab a plain, dark cloak and put it on over her dress, adjusting the hood over her head. The cloak sat awkwardly over her long hair. She adjusted her hair so it would all fit comfortably inside the hood at the nape of her neck.
Leaving the comforts of her chambers was difficult. She had never done anything like this before. Still, the thought of staying put and doing nothing when the people of Hyrule were preparing for the worst was unconscionable. Soon there would be a mass exodus of people from Castle Town and she knew what they would think of her, thanks in part to her father’s never-ending scolding.
Outside, she was relieved to see the castle grounds were free of any guards, allowing her to walk out without incident. She supposed they had already been excused to retreat from Castle Town with their families. Her father was at least a benevolent king who cared for his people, despite his stern and sometimes harsh treatment of her. Zelda relaxed a bit and breathed deeply of the night air, looking out over the town from her vantage point as she made her way down the winding path.
Zelda cleared the gatehouse and then the main gate that led out into Castle Town, arriving in the central square. The gentle trickle of the fountain greeted her as the town slept. Zelda navigated through the empty cobblestone streets, heading for the final gate that would lead out into Hyrule Field. Once she had cleared the town’s gate, she headed east. 
The grass swayed in the gentle breeze. The moon was high and bright allowing her to see her destination in the far distance. The Sheikah Slate shifted in the pocket of her cloak. As she walked, she let her mind wander, trying to focus on sweet daydreams to overcome the sense that she was in a race against her kingdom’s demise. She remembered how conflicted Astor had sounded the last time she spoke with him. Her heart swelled and she walked a little faster, feeling hopeful and foolish at once. Her heart beat steadily in her mind over the sound of crickets chirping. She didn’t look back at the castle as she moved further and further away. If she looked back, she knew she would lose her resolve. 
Zelda neared a bokoblin camp. There were three of them, and fortunately for her, they were all in relative proximity to each other. She grabbed the Sheikah Slate from her cloak’s pocket and charged forward, giving a grunt of effort as she activated the remote bomb feature. By the time they noticed their unwelcome visitor it was too late. The pig-like creatures gave a chorus of animalistic shrieks just before they were blown sky-high. Zelda sighed in relief looking around the camp for whatever she could pillage for herself. There was a thick juicy steak cooking over an open flame. She was quite hungry now that she thought of it.
As Zelda moved towards the steak, a slew of bokoblin parts began to fall from the sky. Zelda flinched as purple guts rained down on her with an array of wet plops, some of them bursting upon impact. She wasn’t hungry anymore.
Zelda started working on the elixir after she had gained the nerve to gather the bokoblin guts and place them in a large cooking pot that already had a fire going under it. She stayed at the camp a few minutes waiting for a warm darner to appear and when one presented itself she caught it and added it to the pot. Slowly, everything began to liquefy, becoming an orange-red liquid. If she stood too close to the concoction her eyes began to water. Breathing in the peppery aroma the elixir gave off made her break into a coughing fit. 
Success… Zelda thought to herself.
She carefully scooped the rim of the bottle through the liquid, letting it flow into the container. She corked it and put it away for later. Zelda moved to the nearby Hylia river and bent to scoop up some water in her cupped hands, greedily drinking to quench her immense thirst. She savored the crispness of it, and it sated the burning in her throat. She gathered some water in the second glass bottle and corked it. She climbed back up the embankment and crossed the Rebonae Bridge.
oOo
By late morning it was discovered that Zelda was missing. The few staff left at the castle descended into a frenzy, searching the castle and even spreading out into Castle Town to look for her.
Link and Impa knelt before King Rhoam who was furious.
“It seems my daughter has forsaken her divine duty and has fled. I fear all is lost…”
“Your Majesty, with all due respect, I don’t believe she would do such a thing. I’m sure that wherever she has gone she has a good reason.”
The king narrowed his eyes at the Sheikah advisor. “Then where has she gone and what is she doing? This is unacceptable! You two are her closest companions. You must know something! If you are hiding something from me, I will hold you both personally responsible!”
Impa shifted nervously, shooting a brief look at Link for support. “Uh… S-she might be with a certain individual… He… He might have taken her, but then again, she might have gone with him willingly. I really can’t say for sure either way…. I don’t want to point any fingers, though, and I mean no disrespect towards the Princess…”
“What do you mean ‘went with him willingly’?” King Rhoam snapped, his anger flaring. “Who is this individual?”
“Uh… Let’s just say he’s a prophet with exclusive knowledge of the Calamity.”
Link gave Impa an incredulous look. Impa could only imagine what the young knight was thinking. 
Smooth, Impa, real smooth. You really know how to spin things.
“Hmm… A prophet…” Rhoam paused, contemplating this. “This still does not sit well with me… Especially the fact that you don’t sound very certain about this man’s intentions at all... Send word to the Champions at once to leave their Divine Beasts for the time being. Inform them of the situation and have them assist in searching for her.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Impa bowed, and they turned to leave the sanctum.
“It can’t be true can it?” Impa whispered to Link. “The other night when Astor interrupted Zelda’s prayers at the Spring of Courage…  We have no idea what was said between the two. What are the chances Zelda’s disappearance has something to do with him? What if… What if they both turned from their respective roles and ran as far as they could?”
Link regarded her. He seemed to consider what she was saying, a serious look in his blue eyes but refraining from expressing his thoughts on the matter, committed to silently bearing his duty, no matter what unexpected turns fate threw at him.
“Ugh… sorry, I’m just rambling, I guess.” Said Impa. “I don’t want to believe Zelda would just give up like that, but if she did... I guess I would understand why…”
oOo
Zelda had, at last, reached the gate that marked the entrance to Mount Lanayru. At the base of Mount Lanayru was a beautiful, tranquil field. This would probably be the last moment of relative comfort, for once she started her ascent the air would only grow colder the higher she went. She had to do some light climbing to reach the start of the path up the mountain. She followed the winding path up the mountain, and soon she noticed it was snowing lightly. The change in temperature was dramatic, and when she became too cold for her liking, she took a small sip of the spicy elixir. It wasn’t as foul as she’d been anticipating, so she was able to consume the rest, although slowly. Even after chasing the elixir with water, she could feel sweat beginning to bead on her forehead. The cold became tolerable, and soon, any unpleasant burning aftertaste faded.
The path up the mountain was steep, marked every so often with a segment of stone steps. Her legs began to ache but knew that if she stopped it would hurt to resume moving again. She wouldn’t stop until she stood before the Hylia statue at the Spring of Wisdom.
She sensed she was at a high altitude now. A cutting gust of wind snapped back the hood of her cloak and violently ruffled her thick hair. As she tried to pull the hood back in place, the wind hit again, stronger this time, and it took her breath away for several beats. She struggled to take a breath, gasping for air. Still, she pushed up and onward.
 Her legs were about to give when she, at long last, reached the spring. She wondered how the water wasn’t solid ice given the frigid temperature. She stepped into the spring, starting to shiver as the ice-cold water touched her skin up to her shins. She couldn’t turn back now, she’d come too far and was finally at her destination. 
She forced herself further down the spring, following the stone path below the water’s surface, coming to stand where the crest of Hylia was etched. She clasped her hands together, barely being able to form a coherent thought. Are the effects of the elixir wearing off, she wondered with rising alarm.
She braced herself against the immense cold, squeezing her eyes shut. “Goddess Hylia, please… I came all the way up here... I don’t understand… Don’t you want me to awaken my power?”
Her chest felt so tight. She could feel the bones ache in her fingers. She couldn’t stop herself from visibly shivering. The cloak that had felt so heavy and substantial all the way here, suddenly felt paper-thin now.
Had she made a mistake?  One she would pay for with her life? There was no way she was going to make it back down the mountain. She was far too cold, and far too exhausted to turn back.
“Please… Didn’t you call me here?”
oOo
The seer watched the princess in the ancient Sheikah orb. She was praying at the Spring of Wisdom, just as she had said she would. The girl’s breath was visible, coming out in steady puffs from her pale lips.
The seer hesitated. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was never meant to make it up to that spring, especially not alone and not this early. Astor could sense the goddess at work, altering fate’s course and forcing his hand. He had to choose and seal his ultimate fate.
He had once sworn to crush beneath his heel those who were trying to defy fate’s rightful course. No, not fate… Calamity Ganon’s will. The truth was slowly starting to dawn on him. He’d been so deluded by the Calamity for so long, only falling further into those delusions when he’d found the Harbinger. But fate had a true course, and even that was being rewritten. The hardest thing to accept was that it was being rewritten for his benefit. Why him? He never would have considered that a goddess would give second chances to those that turned their back on her in favor of serving an all-consuming evil entity.
 Hyrule’s two most powerful beings were at war over him. He was a tool to both, although he had to surrender to the fact that the goddess had far more benign plans for him. He’d be a fool to fight Hylia’s plan, but it still felt wrong. He’d repressed human desires for such a long time, or rather serving the Calamity had nearly destroyed all those desires, leaving barely a whisper of humanity in him.
Could the princess really be his? He could no longer fight or deny his want for her… Or was it he who would be hers? Astor wasn’t sure. It was the princess who had pursued him and won him over. He was vaguely aware his thoughts of her were consuming him, slowly changing him.
He recalled the last thing she had said to him.
I hope you will allow me to give you what the Calamity cannot.
Her words echoed through his mind. Those words had sent him spiraling. He wanted so much to do the same to her somehow.
And so Astor willed himself to that place. He appeared behind her on the stone platform, the frigid temperatures immediately hitting him.
Zelda turned, taking notice of him. Her eyes widened and her lips parted to speak, but she had no words. Overcome, Zelda ran to him, up the steps and onto the stone platform he stood.
“So... Cold!” She threw herself at him, burying her frozen hands into his robes. Astor cried out in surprise, vanishing from the Spring of Wisdom, taking her with him. And for a brief moment in time they were neither here nor there, but still locked in that embrace.
The princess was still shivering intensely when they reappeared at the base of Mount Lanayru, back in that tranquil field.
She hung on to him, trying to steal what little warmth his body and clothing could give. It occurred to her that he must have been watching her, knowing exactly where she was and when she was in trouble. “You… You came to save me?”
He didn’t know how to act towards her, doubling down. “Quite bold of you to make that assumption.” He said coldly. “Perhaps I only came to witness your demise brought on by your ill-conceived plan, but alas it seems I have inadvertently saved you…” He pried her off of him and pushed her away, yet it was far too gentle for someone who had once plotted her death. His fingers brushed against her ice-cold ones, and he flinched from the contact.
Zelda’s heart fell. “If you were still loyal to Ganon, you would have just left me to die… Please, stop playing games with me... I can’t stand this… I’m so cold.” She came close again, trying to bury herself in him once again. She must have been starved for affection and validation to be seeking it from him of all people. Astor halfheartedly held out a hand, trying to keep her at bay. He wanted so badly to give in to her, but her touch was paralyzing, for it ignited a chain of images in his mind’s eye. The visions were too rapid to interpret or understand, but still, they left him with a strange feeling. She may not have been able to find her power, but she had certainly managed to awaken something in him.
Zelda gave him a dejected look. “Thank you for saving me...” She said self-consciously, before beginning to head back toward the Lanayru Promenade. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, still feeling the effects of the cold. Astor couldn’t help but follow, each step a subconscious desire to stay at her side.
They walked for a while in silence down Lanayru Promenade, its beautiful ancient stonework covered in moss.
Zelda came to a stop, near the edge of the path, overlooking the water. Her fist was wrapped tightly around the handle of the Sheikah Slate. “That was my last chance… Looks like I’m just not meant to awaken this power… But why…? Why won’t it awaken for me?”
Astor paused, her words deeply affecting him for reasons he couldn’t understand. He felt like a ghost of his former self, now numb to Calamity Ganon. The vision of the princess and the knight at Blatchery Plains ran through his mind, sobering him. It made Astor anxious that she would ultimately give up on him and find validation in the most obvious of places - that boy. Was it possible for fate to circle back around and bite him in such a cruel way?
“My seventeenth birthday is... tomorrow… There’s no more time…” Zelda’s voice cracked in a pitiful way. She stood perfectly still, her back to him. “I really am just a failure.” Zelda gave a horrible, soul-rending sob and pitched the cloak she’d been wearing into the waters below.
Laughter erupted through the promenade, catching Astor and Zelda’s attention. They looked up to see Kohga and Sooga watching them from a perch high above them.
“Well, well, well… Look here, Sooga… The doomed prophet and the heiress to a throne of nothing together at last… I never saw this coming.” Kohga howled with sarcasm. “Is that a banana in your pocket, Prophet? Or are you just happy to see the pr-”
Astor clapped his hands over his ears, his irises constricting. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” Astor screamed. “I’m going to consign you degenerate pests to oblivion if it’s the last thing I do!”
Zelda sniffed, blinking several times as if caught off guard and deeply confused.
Astor was dying inside, the desire to throw himself off the edge of the promenade only increasing.  He fantasized about all the ways he could kill Kohga, but he couldn’t help but admit Zelda’s reaction was strangely endearing. Had Kohga’s terrible joke actually got her to stop crying?
“Yiga assemble! Cut down the false prophet and the girl who carries the blood of the goddess!” Kohga clapped his hands together, summoning his footsoldiers, each bursting into the scene, scrolls falling around them. The footsoldiers began to swarm Zelda and Astor, while Kohga and Sooga vanished. 
One of the footsoldiers took a running jump towards Zelda, swinging his sickle. Zelda gasped, losing her footing as she stepped back, nearly falling into the water. Astor moved quickly, grabbing Zelda by the wrist and pulling her close to him.
With his free hand, Astor summoned his orb, hoping Calamity Ganon’s power hadn’t forsaken him yet as he called forth a Hollow. The Hollow of the princess’s appointed knight appeared in an instant and rushed at the Yiga footsoldiers with horrifying speed.
The footsoldiers screamed in recognition of the hero’s likeness, holding their sickles at the ready. The malice being wielded its ‘sword’ just as skillfully as the hero himself, expertly blocking any attacks the members of the Yiga Clan threw at it. It made short work of the footsoldiers, hacking and slashing until they each fell, nearing death. The Princess stood very still as she watched it all play out before her in morbid fascination, wide-eyed and still held in Astor’s grasp.
The footsoldier’s bodies jerked and spasmed, giving up the ghost, or in this case red-purple spheres of energy that rose out of their chests one by one, being drawn out by the power of malice Astor wielded. The spheres floated delicately in the air, and Zelda could just make out a faint electrical pulse within. Astor raised his chin in a ‘come here’ motion, and the spheres barreled through the air with a ghastly howl towards the pair. Zelda shut her eyes and flinched away, only to realize that the spheres had been absorbed into the orb Astor held.
Astor released Zelda from his grasp and stepped away, looking surprised. He had saved her, again, on his own volition this time. He had held her so close, and the moment had passed too quickly, barely having acknowledged it at the moment due to being under attack.
Zelda regarded him silently, waiting for him to speak. He looked as if he was waiting for Calamity Ganon to strike him down.
“If you’re going to perish, it must be by my hand...” Said Astor, as a way of an excuse, as confidently as he could muster.
Zelda’s face fell. The fear and anticipation of the impending Calamity hung palpably between them. Zelda thought of her father, her anxieties mounting. She didn’t know how she was going to face him knowing she’d broken Lanayru’s decree and failed to awaken her powers yet again. “Well... I don’t suppose you’d like to accompany me back to the castle? Father might want to kill me when he finds out where I’ve been.” Zelda gave a nervous smile.
Astor smiled a bit. This girl thought she was clever. “I can do that…” In truth, he’d follow her anywhere at this point.
This took Zelda by surprise. Her features contorted a bit, nearly breaking into tears again. She gave a small exhale of relief. “Thank you…”
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scorlettimagines · 4 years
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His Shirt: A Sam Corlett Imagine
Request from @caliban-is-my-girl: Heyo! I really liked your last caliban x reader😍 Do you take requests?;) I'm like all for his shirtlessness (if that's even a word ) after michelle gomez' last video post on insta😁 What do you think of an x reader where sam and y/n life together during quarantine and he always walks around shirtless to impress her?😂 You don't have to do it of course😆 Stay healthy Love
Okay, so this is my first Sam imagine! I know the gif is Caliban, but it’s gonna make sense once you start reading! Stay safe and stay well everyone! Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x 
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It seemed like years since the third part of Chilling Adventures of Sabrina had aired and the world had been introduced to Sam Corlett. It seemed like years since he had strolled onto the screen, hand brushing his hair out of his face, a Jim Morrison-style shirt billowing in the wind, revealing what had become the subject of thirst tweets, fan fiction, or whatever the wacky (and wonderful) world of the Internet decided to conjure up. In reality, it had only been three months, but that was the effects of quarantine for you.
You hadn’t been surprised at the reaction to Sam’s physique, nor his personality, knowing him to be the loveliest human you had ever met. You were completely aware of just how lucky you were that you could call him your boyfriend, and that you got to see more than Netflix had to offer. Unfortunately for you, Sam knew this too, and often liked to tease you with it, laughing every time a blush rose to your cheeks, the temperature suddenly heightening.
Three months since Sam Corlett had been introduced to the world, and now here you were, in quarantine with him.
There were worse ways to spend the apocalypse.
Sydney was beautiful, and Sam’s house was no exception. With a balcony view that looked down onto the city, the sun shining, it was the perfect place to sit and read a book, bathing in the morning sunlight. You stretched out on the sun lounger, nose buried in the pages, just happy to have a break from the chaos that was 2020. You’d left Sam in bed, letting him lie in after many mornings of getting up early. You’d told him he needed a break and he’d refused several times. You guessed sleep had finally defeated him.
Not for long, apparently.
A shadow crossed your face as Sam stood in front of you wearing a tired grin. You fidgeted in your seat, eyes glancing to his chest (bare, as expected), before shuffling over to make room for him. He sat down next to you, his legs tangled with yours, an arm slung over your shoulders.
“Good morning,” he kissed your head as you snuggled into him, abandoning your book. This moment right now was far better than anything a fantasy land had to offer.
“You could put a shirt on, you know.”
“And why would I do that? You seem more than happy to wear them yourself.”
You smiled, closing your eyes as you lost yourself in him. That familiar blush rose to your cheeks, the heat on your skin different from the one that the sunlight provided. It was true, you were wearing one of Sam’s shirts, finding it far more comfortable than any of your own pyjamas. Not to mention, it smelled like him, his scent lingering on your skin, comforting you when you were alone.
“You have more than one.”
It was a conversation you’d had more than once; never escalating into an argument, just a pleasant debate between two people who loved each other beyond words. Wearing his shirt was the only way you felt like you could get your own back for him constantly walking around the house shirtless, knowing that there was something about you in his clothes that made his heart warm. He had told you often enough, lying in bed, staring at each other, talking about everything and nothing in your own little bubble, cut off from the rest of the world.
“Shh, don’t tell the Internet that.”
You laughed at that, and felt his chest vibrate as he laughed back. You always liked to make fun of his fame, your relationship being built on wind-ups and mockery. He may have been able to tease you with your reactions to his physique, but you always gave back as good as you got. It was one of the reasons Sam was so in love with you. You tilted your head, placing a chaste kiss on his skin before you spoke.
“I don’t know, I reckon they might be impressed.”
“There’s only one person I’m trying to impress.”
You looked up at him then, searching his eyes as his voice softened, love and adoration lacing every word. His fingers rested under your chin as he leaned in to kiss you, lips lazy as the last remains of sleep clung onto both of you. You sighed as you broke apart, never quite getting used to him, knowing you never would.
“You should give her a call. What’s her name?” You continued to joke, meeting his own smile at your words.
“I think it’s Y/N, something like that.”
“Huh, pretty.”
“Yeah, she’s beautiful.”
There was that blush again, that heat that rose up from your toes to your chest to your face, spreading all over your body. There was silence for a moment, a stillness as you lay with the man you loved. Reaching over for your phone, you checked the time, not quite sure why as there wasn’t really anything you could do given the circumstances. But still you hopped up, ready to start another day of quarantine.
“Right, I need to go and get dressed.”
“Hmm, maybe put on one of your own shirts while you’re there.”
“Does that mean you’ll wear it instead?”
Sam stood, the sun behind him illuminating his figure in a golden haze. He inched over to you, nose brushing yours as he spoke.
“I told you, I’m trying to impress you.”
You kissed his cheek.
“You already do that. Every day.”
He kissed you again, slowly and gently, the heat embracing you both in your perfect little moment. So far, quarantine hadn’t been the best thing to have to go through, but as long as you were with Sam, it would only get easier.
Everything was easy with him.
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majestical · 4 years
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can you go into any detail about why never have i ever isn't good? i really wanted to watch it, but if it's trash i don't wanna bother. thank you!!
alright I sat on this for a few hours so I could finish the rest of the show and write this in the morning and now it is morning. also there are going to be quite a few spoilers in here so just...do what you will with that knowledge i guess. also, if you still want to watch the show, I’m not gonna stop you. I binged the entire season yesterday and I have final exams next week. warning: this is super long.
ngl I was planning on just deleting the post you’re referring to, because at that point I had only watched half the season but I already saw a lot of things I didn't like: an Indian character who seemed a little ashamed of her heritage, too many pr*yanka ch*pra references, some strange and unnecessary ableism (i mean, all ableism is unnecessary but this particularly so), bad stereotypical Indian accents, the main character thirsting over white/white passing boys (this is Mindy's show, can you expect anything different?), and a disgusting amount of fatphobia (there is one fat character who is Devi’s age and his only personality traits are eating and making a fool of himself). 
the show also conflates indian and hindu a few too many times, even though there is a self-aware quip about it. and there’s a joke thrown in about m*di that *i guess* is supposed to show that this family at the least knows who the prime minister of india is? but with india’s current political situation and the knowledge of the atrocities committed by m*di I really did not like that a reference to him was thrown in there. I suppose it is an example of how the desi diaspora (particularly upper-caste, upper middle class Indians) are quite disconnected from the homeland, but like...does Mindy not watch the news? m*di literally committed genocide.
there’s also a lot of antisemitism. Devi’s academic rival, Ben, is introduced like a walking Jewish stereotype: just check out this post because op says it better than I could. there’s also a joke where Devi says out loud that she wishes Ben was killed by N*zis. I honestly don’t even know how that made it into the show and none of the context surrounding the joke is funny.
okay on to my personal qualms with the show. I wasn’t a fan of either of the love interests. neither of them really respected Devi as much as I would have liked, and personally, I found it tiring to see women/girls of color chase after men/boys who can’t reciprocate in the same way. I didn’t love how paxton (the cool jock love interest) kept leading Devi on and would then act aloof and I honestly would have preferred if Devi and ben hadn’t kissed, because I just prefer their frenemy dynamic over some potential romantic one. i also just could not relate to Devi at all...I was just too repressed in high school to relate to anything Devi does. she’s also just super unlikeable in the first eight episodes, but she kind of grew on me in the last two. I saw a comparison made between Devi coping with her grief with hypersexuality and the coping mechanisms used by the main character on Fleabag, which kind of made sense to me, even though they are pretty different shows otherwise. and she does get some comeuppance for her actions towards the end. even then, devi never really confronts her trauma directly, especially her paralysis, and her actions are excused too many times for comfort.
a lot of the storyline depended on teen romcom cliches, and were sort of excused because the main characters are poc. i wish this trend didn’t happen so often, especially when it comes to mainstream stories of young women and girls of color. i was also surprised that this show doesn’t really give much screentime to other indian kids that Devi might interact with. that would have been a much more three-dimensional approach to a show like this, but i also think this had to be sacrificed to keep up with the teen romcom aspect of the show. i was also not a fan of the will-schuester-wannabe history teacher. 
BUT (if you have been reading this much I sincerely applaud you) there were a few things I did like about the show. I loved Devi’s friends and honestly if I had her friends in tenth grade I would never ditch them for some boy. when I was a high school sophomore, I was closeted, had a musical theatre obsession, and ate dosas for dinner so I felt like a mix of all three of the girls. in fact, I found eleanor’s and fabiola’s storyline to be a lot more compelling that Devi’s at times. i even really enjoyed ben’s arc (and loved the andy samberg narration in his episode, especially because he pronounced Devi’s name with the soft “dh” sound...absolutely wonderful!). i thought fabiola’s coming-out scene was sweet (even though it was very textbook) and i thought eleanor being dramatic was very funny. 
in my opinion, the last two episodes were the best. we really got to dig deeper into Devi’s relationship with her mother and it was eerily reminiscent of my own. she gets told that she has to move to india because family is there, so she naturally fights with her mom and storms off. that literally happened to me (minus the running away part...I actually did end up moving to India in the middle of high school), and other moments like those just hit close to home and made me want to finish the show. i personally didn’t relate to the whole “am I indian or not Indian enough” struggle until I started living in india, but my indian friends who did go to high school in america were all too sympathetic to this struggle. 
so overall, there are some bad things and some good things about this show. if you relate to the premise of the show at all, you may like it more than I did, but if you were raised in india (which is the demographic that most of the criticism is coming from) or generally enjoy good writing, you probably won’t like this as much. i do hope that this show helps pave the way for some representation that brings more nuance to indian-american identity, and different types of indian-american identities (working-class, immigrants who aren’t upper-caste, people who have been living in the states for several generations, LGBT people, indian muslims/christians/sikhs/etc) without unnecessarily bringing down other minorities. and once again, i am really happy that a girl named maitreyi ramakrishnan is getting famous and NOT anglicizing her name. 
i hope this response was good and if you do decide to watch, let me know how you like it!
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Who Rescued Who? - Chapter 2
Pairings: Future Royaliceit | Established Royality Main Characters: Deceit, Patton, Virgil (though he isn’t named) Warnings: Multiple threats of death (don’t worry, no one is going to die), kidnapping, forced captivity, eating, multiple food descriptions, animal death, mentioned meat consumption, crying, torture mention, let me know if there’s anything else Word Count: 4,269
<-Chapter 1
Ao3 Link
Summary:
Deceit returns home and finds his family waiting for him. After a rather sleepless night, he returns to Patton’s house to check on him- not because he’s attached, but just... he doesn’t know why okay?
__________
What was he thinking? Why would he go and taunt Roman into knowing Patton was still alive? Why would he give himself that headache? This could only end badly. What was he thinking?
“Stars above, what was I thinking?” Deceit growled under his breath. He landed on the coastline of his island and caught his breath. The storm clouds hung onto the ocean’s edge, rumbled in the distance, and melted into the water. The sound of rain mixed with the ocean’s waves.
He had to relax. No human from Creativia had ever found the storm protected islands. Ever since his family fled here, they had lived in peace. Roman wouldn’t be able to find them. Everything was fine.
Still…
Deceit strolled through the forest, thankful to be under cover once again. Animals moved out of his way, twigs snapped under his claws, and dirt shifted under his paws. The way home was covered in brush, but that was only because he and his family never ventured this far to the west coastline. At least, not recently. They never had a reason to.
As the sight of his home came into view, Deceit shifted back into his human form. He pushed his hair back under his hat and strolled up to the door. From his pocket, he produced a silver key with a dragon’s head on the end. He marveled at it in his hand. Rust started to show its age. Claw scratches usually eased the rust away, and a fine coat of polish went a long way. He’d have to do that soon.
Deceit unlocked the door and walked inside. Why they needed a lock he’d never know, but it made his family feel safe, so he never questioned it.
“I’m home,” Deceit called through the empty living room. Feet shifted above him on the second floor, and Deceit’s heart swelled. He watched a ball of black and purple cloth dive into his chest and wrap arms around him. 
“Stars above I was so worried about you,” their voice mumbled into Deceit’s caplet. Deceit brushed long fingernails through their hair and kissed the top of their head.
“I told you I wouldn’t be long,” Deceit whispered. He moved them both to the couch and allowed them to cling onto his arm.
“You were gone for three whole days!” they snapped back. “That’s a long time to not know whether you were dead or hurt or not coming back at all.”
“I’m sorry,” Deceit mumbled. “I should’ve come to you as soon as I returned to the island.”
“Where did you go, and why?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Deceit pulled out a large bag of gold from his cloak, and their eyes widened. Deceit reached in and produced a silver coin. “Just a small job to get us this.”
“Is that… Vulgaria currency? Oh. Oh no. No, you’re not thinking of-”
“Trading with them? Oh no, why would I do that? It would only put a roof over our heads and allow us to live here in peace.”
“We already were living here in peace!”
“And how long would that last?” Deceit snapped back. He watched them go silent. “Come on now, you’re always worried about the future, and you can’t foresee us being found? They have boats. Big boats. And, with their thirst for power, it won’t be long before this island and all its creatures are found by people who would rather have land and power than allow us to live here freely. I did this for us.”
They stayed silent, their head buried into Deceit’s shoulder. Deceit ran his fingers through their hair, whispering soothing words of apology for yelling. For a while, the two of them sat together like that.
“You smell like human,” they mumbled into his clothing.
“Yes, well, I might have had a run-in with a small one. Don’t worry. They’re gone now.”
“You also smell like blood.”
“Yes, well, it wasn’t just the human I had a run-in with.”
They pushed away from Deceit’s side, and Deceit cursed as his blood stained the couch. He watched as their eyes began to widen with panic. 
“Now, I know what you’re thinking, but-”
“You’re bleeding, and you’re seriously going to tell me to calm down?” They glared at Deceit before standing up. Deceit called after them, but they disappeared into another room. After a moment, they returned with bandages and ordered Deceit to strip his pants away. Deceit did as he was told. They examined the wound and sighed through their nose.
“I’m guessing you were hit as a dragon, judging how small it is. Kinda deep though.”
“Yes, I told you not to worry. It was only a minor stab. It should heal fine on its own.”
“Still, I don’t want it infected,” they grumbled. They put a plant-based paste on Deceit’s wound and covered it with a white cloth. Deceit watched nimble fingers carefully wrap the wound, mesmerized by the tender movements. They tied it off, and Deceit returned his clothing back to its rightful place.
“Better?” Deceit asked.
They nodded in response.
Deceit sighed. He stood and stretched. The stars started to twinkle outside, and exhaustion settled into his bones. He wasn’t used to flying such great distances in a day anymore.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Deceit mumbled. He nuzzled his head into their hair, and they returned the friendly gesture. “May the stars aid your sleep.”
“And you as well,” they returned.
Deceit climbed the stairs after sending one last soft smile back and disappearing into his room. He changed into softer cotton clothing and burrowed under his bed’s heated blanket. The moon smiled down from the sky. Stars twinkled above as crickets sang a soft lullaby. 
For a moment, Deceit’s eyes closed.
When he opened them again, the stars still showed outside. The air stilled, and the moon had long ago moved from its low position in the sky. The crickets still sang, but now it sounded more like noise than a song. Deceit flipped over. Still, their noise grated on his nerves. He shoved his head under his pillow.
He wondered if Patton could sleep with all this noise. He wondered if Patton was up and tossing his head about, unable to block out the noise with his bound hands. He wondered if Patton’s stomach growled and kept him awake since he hadn’t eaten all day. He wondered if Patton cried himself to sleep.
He wondered why he cared about Patton’s wellbeing so much. It wasn’t like Patton kidnapped himself, tied himself up, and abandoned himself in a cottage deep in the woods. It wasn’t like Deceit let him do it and left Patton to his own devices. 
Maybe that’s why he found himself walking in the dead of night toward Patton’s prison. The house wasn’t far from his own, maybe an hour’s walk on human feet. Deceit unlocked the front door to the cottage and stepped inside. He climbed the stairs. 
Deceit stopped at the top of the stairs and listened. He could hear soft breaths from the other side, as well as a small repetitive clicking sound. He unlocked the door as quietly as he could and entered the room.
The candles had long ago extinguished themselves. A chill hung in the air. Patton laid in the same spot Deceit left him, his head tossed to the side and eyes closed. His mouth kept vibrating. That must’ve been where the clicking noise was coming from.
Deceit stepped into the room. He ran a hand over Patton’s bare cheek and noticed how cold it was. He should’ve brought Patton a heated blanket. Deceit eyed the fireplace across the way. Perhaps if he gathered some firewood, he could light a fire to keep Patton warm for the night.
Wait, why did he care? Patton was supposed to die here. Why would he waste his time keeping Patton alive? Maybe Patton would die from the cold in his sleep, and Deceit wouldn’t have to worry about him. It’d be more merciful to let Patton suffer as little as possible.
Still, he couldn’t help but think maybe one night wouldn’t hurt. Maybe then his conscience would shut up. Deceit exited the room, went outside, and snapped multiple branches off the nearby trees. He broke them into smaller sticks and stuck them into the fireplace. Then, with a quick puff of fire, he lit the sticks and brought the fireplace to life. It wasn’t the prettiest thing, but it worked.
Deceit sat heavily in the chair beside the fire. All this work was starting to drag his eyelids down. The fire danced and comforted him, the heat bringing warmth back into his cold scales. Maybe sleeping here for the night wouldn’t be such a bad idea. He let his eyes slip closed and enjoyed the warmth from the fire.
--
When Patton started to wake, he did not expect to hear a fireplace crackling. He definitely didn’t expect to feel warm, not without a blanket on top of him, and he definitely didn’t expect for the fireplace to be kindling from its burning blaze. He sat up a small bit and saw a black shape in the chair beside the fire. Patton squinted and wondered if his glasses were smudged. 
No, he was seeing things right. That man- Deceit- the one who kidnapped him was sitting in the chair across from the fire.
But… but he was supposed to abandon Patton here. Patton was supposed to die cold and alone, wasn’t he? Why would he come back and light a fire? Was this his house? Was Deceit just all talk? What was going on?
Patton moving must’ve woke Deceit, because soon after, Deceit stretched and moaned in the chair. Patton stayed still and watched. Deceit’s back cracked as he stood.
“I don’t remember falling asleep,” he mumbled. He turned and got stuck on Patton’s eyes. For a while, the two of them stared in silence.
“Good morning,” Patton greeted with as cheerful of a smile as he could muster.
Deceit stared at him for a few seconds longer before glancing back at the fire. He sighed and rubbed his neck.
“No, it’s awful,” Deceit mumbled. “Completely awful. The worst morning I’ve ever had.”
“I guess you could call it a good mourn-ing then,” Patton said with a smirk. 
Deceit furrowed his brow, and he tilted his head to the side slightly. Patton’s smile didn’t leave, almost like he was proud of himself for confusing Deceit so much. Deceit shook his head and poked the sticks in the fire with his bare hands.
“It’ll be out soon,” he mumbled. He turned and blinked. Patton’s mouth was stuck open, his eyes wide with fright. Deceit rose a brow. “Something wrong?”
“It’s just- you stuck your hand in the fire. Didn’t that burn you?”
“I’m Dragonborn,” Deceit said with a roll of his eyes. “A few little hot sticks aren’t going to burn me.”
“Oh,” Patton mumbled and leaned back on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “So, why did you come back?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Got bored. Came to see if you were dead yet.”
“Oh. And, uh, the fireplace?”
“I needed it to keep warm.”
“Okay.”
Deceit opened his mouth to speak again, but a loud rumble interrupted him. He blinked a few times and looked around. What made that noise? His eyes settled on Patton, who appeared to be changing from a white to a red color.
“Was that you?” Deceit asked.
“Um, yeah,” Patton said with a nervous laugh. “Guess I’m kinda hungry.”
Deceit stared out the window and noticed the sun rising over the trees. He hummed to himself and mumbled, “Oh, I guess it is breakfast time, isn’t it? I should probably get some.”
“Oh, okay,” Patton replied. He let out a long sigh and answered, “I guess that’s why they call it breakfast because you break your fast for not eating.”
“Are you trying to make sense of this ridiculous language?”
“Maybe?” Patton shrugged. “What else am I going to do, kiddo?”
“Kid- I’ll have you know I’m over three decades old.”
“Oh? Me too.”
Deceit opened his mouth to say something else but closed it soon after. He exited Patton’s room once again. With a heavy sigh, he locked up the house and exited into the brisk morning air.
Patton blew air out of his lips. He shouldn’t be surprised Deceit left him alone once again. He wondered how long it would take for him to starve to death. His stomach ached, and he wished he could rub the pain away. He wiggled his fingers to make sure there was still feeling in them. Surprisingly, yes. However, they were cold from the loss of heat from the fireplace, and he wished he could move ever so slightly to the right and into the sun’s beams.
For what felt like hours, Patton laid alone. However, he heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs soon after. His heart pounded. Please be Roman. Please be Roman. Please be-
Deceit opened the door once again, shutting down Patton’s hopes again. He held a pile of feathers in his hands.
“I can’t stay long,” Deceit grumbled. “I have to get home, but I figured… look, if I didn’t come back I wouldn’t care, so just…”
Deceit put the pile of feathers on a table next to the bookshelf, and the smell of death choked Patton. Patton’s eyes widened as Deceit pulled a falcon from the pile and walked over to him. 
“It’s hurt,” Patton whimpered. He pulled at the cuff around his hand and tried to sit up. “Don’t worry, I can heal it. Just untie my hands, and-”
“I don’t want you to heal it,” Deceit said with a snort. “I want you to eat it.”
Patton’s jaw opened. He let out a nervous laugh and asked, “Um, why exactly?”
“I don't know,” Deceit mumbled. He started to pull the bird’s feathers off, and Patton’s stomach lurched. He squeezed his eyes shut and stopped his stomach from dry heaving. Deceit continued, “Don’t look too deep into it, okay? I just-”
“Deceit-”
“-caught too much is all, and I don’t want it to go to waste, so-”
“Deceit, please I-”
“-I figured might as well give it to you.”
“Deceit, I’m a pescatarian!” Patton’s words slurred together, but he was afraid if he didn’t vomit out his words, he’d vomit out something else. Deceit’s face went from shock to confusion, and he stared at the unfeathered bird in his hands.
“You’re a… what?” Deceit asked with a raised brow.
“I don’t… I can’t eat land meat. It makes me sick,” Patton explained.
Deceit rolled his eyes, “Of course you’d be complaining about me feeding you. You know, someone who is supposed to be killing you.”
“It’s not… I don’t mean to offend you,” Patton explained. “My family and I don’t eat land meat as a choice. We believe the land animals in our country are sacred, and eating something that provides milk, warmth, and companionship is inhumane.”
“Well, what did this bird ever do for you?”
“Falcons give us protection from wild mice and black rats that spread disease. Without them, we’d all be sick.”
Deceit thought for a moment. He stared down at the animal in his hands and almost felt… guilty? He never felt guilty for killing something he intended to eat before. It was just natural. He needed meat to survive.
“So, I guess you don’t want it,” Deceit mumbled.
Patton’s stomach growled, and he squeezed his gut a bit. He shook his head and swallowed hard. “No thanks, kiddo.”
Deceit’s anger bubbled in his stomach. Why did he care if Patton didn’t eat? Was it because he wasted his time thinking about someone who would rather starve themselves anyway? He put the bird on the table and licked the blood off his fingers. Patton wouldn’t look at him, but Deceit couldn’t take his eyes off Patton.
“So, what do you eat?” Deceit asked and rose a brow.
“Plants, mostly.” Patton ignored the disgusted noise Deceit made. “My family has an apple grove in our backyard that we pick together every spring. We make pies, juice, cider, butter, and even cakes with them. Apple Fest is a week-long celebration where we give thanks for all the food we’re able to grow.”
“Fascinating,” Deceit mumbled. He blinked. “What’s an apple?”
Patton laughed, and Deceit squinted. What was so funny? It was just a question.
Patton informed, “It’s a fruit. When a tree- ah- when the tree doesn’t need its flowers anymore, it makes an apple from the leftover flowers. Apples protect the tree seeds, and when they’re eaten whole by animals, the seeds spread so they can grow into a new tree. They can be green, red, or yellow. I like the green ones the best. They’re just the right amount of crunchy and sour.”
“Well, I can tell you, there are no apples on this island,” Deceit grumbled. He sighed and scratched his neck with his claws. “What else do you eat?”
“Well, um, berries, most vegetables, I really don’t like Brussel sprouts or asparagus or I’d say all vegetables, salmon, nuts, bread-”
“Wait, you eat fish?”
“Yes,” Patton answered slowly. “Don’t you?”
“What happened to not eating meat? Last I checked, fish counted.”
“I said I don’t eat land meat. Fish are different. We don’t keep them as pets, and their oil is really important for keeping our bodies healthy.”
Deceit thought for a moment. He picked up the birds on the table into his arms and exited the room. Patton wondered if he offended him somehow. Deceit left without another word, and Patton sighed through his nose and let the loneliness overtake him again.
At least Deceit was interesting to talk to. He just wished it was under different circumstances.
The sun rose higher in the sky, and Patton started humming his favorite songs. He could get through them without crying now. Some still choked him up, but most of them were more comforting and helped the time pass by faster.
The door downstairs closed again, and Patton held his breath. He hoped it was Roman, but something in his stomach told him otherwise. His door opened once again, and Deceit held all sorts of colorful shapes in his arms. He was also dripping wet, but that didn’t concern Patton too much.
“What’s that?” Patton asked.
“What’s it look like?” Deceit asked. He put the pile on the table and scooted it closer to Patton. Patton tried to get a look at all the plants Deceit gathered. Deceit continued, “I got you food.”
“Oh,” Patton put a polite smile on his face. “That was thoughtful of you.”
“Like I said, don’t look into it too much. If I didn’t come back this morning, I wouldn’t care.”
Patton hummed, and Deceit picked up a round red berry. He squeezed it in his fingers. The berry didn’t pop, but it did change from a red color to a yellow color. Deceit held it up to the light and examined it.
“I have no idea if these are poisonous to you or not,” Deceit grumbled.
“Well, that makes two of us, kiddo.”
Deceit’s eye twitched at the nickname. He put the fruit back and picked up another one. An eyebrow raised in question. Patton still didn’t recognize the oval-shaped purple fruit with pink spots, and he shook his head.
“How am I supposed to feed you plants when they can be deadly,” Deceit growled. “At least I know once the falcons were dead you wouldn’t die if you ate them.”
“No, but I’m pretty sure I’d get sick,” Patton reminded him. Deceit rolled his eyes. He picked up another fruit, and Patton’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I know that one! It’s a banana.”
“Well, is it dangerous?” Deceit asked.
Patton laughed once again, and Deceit pretended he wasn’t offended. “No, I eat those all the time. We have to trade for them though because they don’t grow in our soil. They’re a delicacy in my country.”
“Huh, well, they grow all over the place here,” Deceit mumbled. He placed it within biting distance of Patton’s mouth, and Patton eyed it curiously.
“Um, whatcha doing?”
“I’m going to hit you with it,” Deceit mumbled and rolled his eyes. “Feeding you. What’s it look like?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. I guess it would be kinda hard to eat it without my hands, huh?” Patton said with a laugh. He added, “It’s just… you’re supposed to peel it first.”
“Why?”
“So it’s a-peel-ing to eat.”
Deceit wondered why Patton had to word so many things so weird. Maybe it was a language barrier thing. He brought the banana back and stared at it. “What is… peeling?”
“Well, um, you know how you had to pull the feathers out of the falcon before you eat it?” Patton asked. Deceit nodded. “It’s kinda like that. I can eat the peel, but it’s better without it.”
Deceit hummed. He took his claw and sliced the banana open. The inside was surprisingly white, and he took the skin off and threw it on the ground. Patton opened his mouth to speak, but Deceit interrupted him.
“I’m not leaving it there, don’t worry. I don’t eat bananas, but I know what their peels do,” he grumbled. He held the now shaven banana out to Patton.
Patton took a bite, and his eyes widened. They started to sparkle with tears, and he chewed rather slowly for someone who was on the brink of starvation.
“What’s wrong? Is it rotten?” Deceit asked, turning the banana over in his hands.
“No, it’s just… it’s just so good,” Patton said. “I never tasted a banana like that before.”
“Me either,” Deceit said with a smirk. 
Patton waited for Deceit to bring the banana a little close before taking another bite. He chewed and swallowed before he explained, “The bananas my country gets are always so hard and sour, but this is so soft and so sweet. It’s almost like candy.”
Deceit pretended he knew what candy was and hummed. Once Patton got to the end of the banana, Deceit popped the last bit into his own mouth to taste it. His stomach lurched. Deceit nearly vomited on the floor. He spat the banana out, sending white bits all over the floor, and wiped his tongue off on his shirt.
“That’s disgusting,” Deceit spat. “How do you like that?”
Patton shrugged the best he could. He responded, “I feel the same way about meat.”
“But at least I tried that,” Deceit mumbled.
“Well, if we both liked the same thing, there’d be no more food left.”
Deceit watched Patton for a moment before standing. He gathered up the forgotten fruit on the table and opened the window. With a toss, the fruit flew out the window and landed on the ground below. Patton let out a long whine. Deceit closed the window and brushed his hands on his cloak.
“Well, at least now I know what to feed you,” Deceit said, “if I ever feed you again, that is.”
Patton watched Deceit pick up the discarded banana peel and wrinkle his nose. Deceit walked over to the fireplace and threw the peel in. It didn’t burn, meaning the fire had extinguished, and he put his hands on his hips.
“Why would you feed me again?” Patton asked, his voice small.
Deceit shrugged. “I don’t know. I get bored sometimes.”
“But I thought…” Patton’s voice trailed off. He stared up at the ceiling and took in a shaky breath. “If you’re going to kill me, why go through all this trouble?”
Deceit watched him for a moment. He walked over to Patton, his boots clicking on the floor. Patton’s glassy eyes stared up at him, and Deceit pushed away every ounce of sympathy he had.
“Maybe it's because I like tormenting you,” Deceit said with a dead-serious expression.
Patton whined and closed his eyes. He swallowed hard and didn’t respond. Deceit walked over to the door once again and opened it. He took one last glance back at Patton, who still refused to look up at him, and shook his head.
Deceit informed, “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Could be tomorrow. Could be next Sunday. Could be never. So… bye.”
Patton didn’t look up at him again. Deceit didn’t expect him to. He closed the door and left Patton alone in his own silence.
He should’ve been home this morning. No doubt his brother was worried. Deceit gathered up the rest of the food he caught this morning and set off for home.
He couldn’t take care of Patton. Patton was not a pet. Patton was a job. If he continued to care for Patton, he was going to get attached, and that couldn’t happen. Patton was supposed to die. He was supposed to kill him. No relationship was supposed to form between them, and all he was doing was delaying the inevitable.
Deceit made up his mind. That was the last time he was going to see Patton alive. He had to, or else this was going to get harder, and he couldn’t risk getting attached. No matter what, he wasn’t going to go back. Not if he couldn’t sleep. Not if he couldn’t think of anything but Patton laying helpless as his body faded away. Never again.
Deceit sighed. Thinking all that was the easy part. Doing it… that was another thing.
--
Chapter 3->
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syntax-stonefly · 3 years
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Day One- Sunrise
The sun rose on a humid day, and Xiomara was ready to leave this forest. The air hung heavy, warmed by the sun the pooled on the bags she’d packed. A proud smile spread across her face, turning six crimson eyes to gentle crescents. She’d been saving for months, and now it was time. No more talk through letters alone, no more yearning for the person she’d seen sketched in those same letters. She was going to see them in person, for the first time in years upon years.
The sun rose on a burning horizon, peering between the buildings a sprawling desert city. Crowds upon crowds of people made their way about their days, children dancing and chasing one another through the streets, and a handful of adults joining in as well. Music played from street corners, and the soft tune reached Cimarron’s ears. He awoke, and with a deep stretch, sat up, smiling softly, though almost mechanically. The sight of a familiar coliseum greeted him, pale stone walls rising tall and sands spattered with dry blood in a ring for battling and nothing else. The audience was cleared- None from this city wanted anything to do with what happened here, none but one, and it was he who invited the rest. He didn’t know what the day would bring, but he silently hoped it’d be something.
The sun rose over the ocean, and Keaton was already wide awake. One would hope they’re awake, when a handful of folk sent to kill them arrives. Fortunately for him, they now lay unconscious in the morning sun, and he, mildly disgruntled, smoothed back the iridescent black fur on his head, buttoned up his suit coat, and slipped all six red gloves on, eight vermillion eyes glinting half open in the sun. Time to start another day, he thought to himself, stretching briefly as he hopped down from the low rooftop. For once? Seemed like he could take it easy. Perfect really, he could’ve used a vacation.
The sun rose into view of Piercer’s room in the inn, and they groaned loudly in protest, curling in on themself, the covers sliding away from their body. Nothing really happened. The sun didn’t dial back into night, or even early morning. Nobody went back to sleep and stopped banging the damn tables downstairs on the main floor, seemingly as loud as they could. That was annoying, usually things did bend to Piercer’s will. That was a lie. They groaned once more, sitting up and looking at the fuzzy mess of colourful hair that stared back at them from the mirror on the wall. They took a wild guess that if they didn’t start their day, it’d start without them. They reluctantly stood up on swaying feet, and reached for their clothes.
The sun rose, and so did the chickens. The roosters, mind you, didn’t scream at exact dawn like expected. They started long ago. So, Theodore was naturally up by then. Xyr nose was clogged by the musty air xe’d been breathing all night long, but it was worth it for the cozy peace of xyr hammock in the corner. A book laid on xyr chest, half open like xyr eyes as xe flipped through it absently with a smile. Xyr house wasn’t far away, in fact it was under a minute’s walk and cast a shadow over the chicken coop in the earliest moments of dawn, but it wasn’t home to xem. A knock came to the door, and Theodore’s half-conscious mind processes xyr brother calling out something about breakfast, and xe half heartedly rolled out into the sawdust on the floor and started walking over. At least some things at the house were nice.
The sun rose in the morning, and for once Misty was there to see it, sitting cross legged at the edge of the tunnels. A grate covered the exit, fine enough to see through up close, but with small enough gaps that it was hard to make out an object or a person from afar. So, while she remained unseen, she got to watch the sun peer over the grasslands, the golden green of the fields saturated by the honey gold that poured over them in the light. Soon the colours would pale, soon Misty could see the sun’s journey to the end. But soon mother would wake up, and her father, and her cousin, and many others, in the city below the city. And they’d worry she’d been found. So she stood, turned, and walked away, into the damp, consuming darkness.
The sun was probably rising. Most likely. The overcast clouds were blue now, so there must’ve been some light from above by then. Virgil stood dead still, staring up into the indigo blanket over the atmosphere, for long moments, then looks down at his hands. Fresh lichen. He never liked scaring away intruders. They’d always fall. They’d always get hurt. They’d always cry and their scrapes left life across the stone he was made of, in the form of fungi and moss and lichen that kept crawling across him. But it was all he knew. It was all he was made for, it was all he was let to do. He didn’t want it to be all he was to do.
The sun rose on a cold day, and Colby had already left her bed, long ago actually. She kept low in the dew speckled ground cover, sapphire fur already soaked through. It wasn’t a job she enjoyed really, working for them. But it paid well. They supplied weapons, they supplied everything she needed really, and all she had to do was get things done, and not think about it. Not think of their scared faces, not think about the screams, not think about the bodies, not think, not think, not think. Her next objective lay ahead, and her hands lay on the hilts of weapons that no person should have ever conceived of.
The sun rose over the mountains, Vynrith could see it over the balcony’s railing. She sat back against the doorway at the moment, the tower where the Guild of Silver made their home. She knew she didn’t belong there. Her fangs ached with thirst, it clawed at her throat and it tore at her stomach and it left thin, willow grey lines spidering across her jaw. And they’d kill her if she knew. And she’d kill them if they knew. She was here for her family’s sake, nothing more. Just one more day, she could last one more day, and she’d be off duty and see them again. The door opened, and she registered two voices. It took her a moment to notice one as her own, responding to the person in front of her. Blood. It was right there, she could taste it. She knew she could get up, and feed, and throw them off the ledge, or incinerate them on the spot and maybe nobody would notice and she’d be fine. They’d already walked away.
The sun rose, and their stories were told.
———————————————————————
I have not edited this in the slightest because I need sleep! I’ll get the second and third prompt done in the morning, and maybe get some pictures up of each of these ocs for reference. I’ll kinda be randomly choosing between these ocs for the rest of the prompts, plus two other ocs I got too tired to include here.
Edit: Forgot to tag @oc-growth-and-development , whoops!
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rosemary-morgan · 5 years
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Arthur Morgan X F.Reader: The shadows of my past - Part 1
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Hello, dear ones ;) This time, I’ll bring you a new story. I hope you will like it. Please don´t be surprised if you find some grammatical mistakes. English is not my native language.
Part 2 / Part 3
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The shadows of my past - Part 1
It was early in the morning when Arthur woke up. The young man stretched out his tired limbs and yawned softly. The sun fell into the camp and it was nice to see the light shimmering between the trees and bushes. He greeted Dutch as he passed his tent. "Morning, Dutch! Everything good?" "Morning, son! Of course!" As usual, Dutch let his eyes wander over the whole camp. He watched closely how the family behaved at the camp, who behaved in what way. Arthur had known Dutch for twenty years now, but lately, his boss seemed to become paranoid. Well, a lot has happened in the group lately and Arthur knew who was responsible for all the stress and all the troubles. And not only Arthur was of that opinion. Others also shared his opinion on Micah Bell. It had been a mistake to include Micah in this gang. Dutch was in a position where it was important to know which people you could trust and whom you couldn´t trust, so Dutch has been very tense lately. He seems confused.
Arthur saddled his horse. He had decided to take a trip to Strawberry. The area of ​​Strawberry could offer a beautiful and peaceful nature and that was exactly what Arthur needed. Rest and relaxation. "Hey, girl! You alright, girl?" Arthur stroked his brown Arabian horse. She was very wild and it had taken a while to earn her trust, but now the two were a heart and a soul. And only Arthur was allowed to ride her. Micah had recently dared to sit on top of her and she immediately threw him in the dirt. That was exactly what Micah deserves. This guy respected neither human nor animal. "You´re hungry?" Arthur took a biscuit out of his saddlebag and fed his horse, caressing her through the mane. "How about a little walk?" Arthur left the camp with his horse and made his way to Strawberry. The weather was wonderful. The temperatures were very pleasant in the early morning and it was nice to feel the fresh air in his lungs. He just wanted to get out of the camp and enjoy the solitude of nature. The road to Strawberry was a long way, but that didn´t bother Arthur. He enjoyed the nature that surrounded him. The sound of singing birds and the sight of the deer, which quenched their thirst at the river. Arthur had to smile when he saw them. They were beautiful animals. But his trip took a very different and perhaps interesting turn. As he calmly led his horse towards Strawberry, he saw a young woman desperate to look for someone. Arthur became curious and decided to offer his help to the young woman.
"Joseph! Joseph! Where are you, my boy?!" You called desperately for your son. Where was this kid? You had told him to wait until you finished your housework. Why did Joseph just run out of the house without you? "Oh, that kid..." Desperately, you are stroking your hair and your eyes are longing for your son. Where was Joseph? Up here, a kid of his age shouldn´t just start running alone. This forest was huge and you could easily get lost. "Joseph!" You were afraid for him. Joseph was everything you had. "Miss?" You turn around in surprise when you hear a male voice behind you. Your luck, because maybe this man had seen your son. "Is everything okay, Miss? You need some help?", asked the young man sitting on a brown horse. Your eyes admired the magnificent animal, but also its rider was a blessing to your eyes. "Sir, did you see a little boy around here? He has brown, curly hair and he wears a blue shirt and brown pants." "No." Arthur got down from his horse and approached you. "Oh, God... Can you help me, please? My son just ran out of the house and I'm desperately looking for him. God! What if something happened to him?" With a heavy sigh, you stroke your hair again and your eyes are constantly scanning the surroundings. "Calm down, we'll find your son." You were very grateful that this man would help you to find your son. He was a stranger, but you had the feeling that you could trust him. And what other choice did you have? You wanted to find your son and this man might be able to help you with it. "Do you have any idea where he might have gone? Maybe in a place where he likes to be?" "Yes, a small creek, but I've been there several times. He wasn´t there!"
Arthur sighed softly and scratched the back of his head. He knew you were worried about your son. That was reasonable. "We'll find him! How long have you been looking for him?" "About half an hour but I'm not sure," you said, looking up at the man with concern. "Oh, God ... Joseph, Joseph, where are you, my boy?!" Abruptly you rush off and continue the search. Whether the stranger would help you or not, but you didn´t want to waste time talking. Your son Joseph was five years old and it was not difficult to get lost in this forest. Apart from the many dangers that could lurk here. Bear traps, wild animals... You got dizzy when you thought about it. You were sick with worry about your son and you were a very overprotective mother. Well, that had its reasons too.
Arthur hurried after you and searched with you for the missing boy. Arthur tried to find the boy by searching for traces. And actually, he found small footprints on the muddy ground. "I think I found a trace!", said Arthur and you were full of hope again. "Really?" You followed Arthur and not far away you hear something and you both followed the sound. It sounded like someone was crying and you start running when you realize that it was the voice of your son. "Joseph!" Arthur hurried after you. He didn´t want you to get lost in this forest too. "Wait!" But you didn´t stop and you came closer and closer to Joseph. When you saw him, you sigh in relief. "Thank God! Joseph!" He was sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree and he was crying. Your eyes were looking for visible injuries, but fortunately, there were no signs on his body. So Joseph doesn´t seem to be hurt. But he was afraid... "Joseph, my God, I´ve finally found you!" "Mummy!" Joseph jumped up from his place and ran into your arms, in the arms of his mother. "Joseph, why didn´t you waited for me?!" You had to nag him. You carefully grab Joesph by the arms and look sternly at him. "I told you not to walk around here by yourself!" "But mummy, I just wanted to play!", said Joseph and burst into tears. You sigh heavily and shook your head. Then you stroke Joseph through his curly, brown hair and pull him back into your arms, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.
Arthur kept his distance from you two and he smiled. He was glad that the boy was fine and Arthur was about to say goodbye to you, but you had other plans and hoped that the friendly stranger would accept your invitation. "Well, I'll go then." Arthur gave you a friendly nod as you turned to him with Joseph in your arms. "Please, wait a moment! I don´t even know your name." "Arthur Morgan." "Y/N Main.", You said and smiled friendly. It was your luck that you had met Arthur. "Mr. Morgan, I would like to invite you to dinner." Arthur scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. He was very flattered that such a pretty and young lady like you invites him to dinner. "And your husband wouldn´t mind?" Arthur assumed that you were married and so, he didn´t want to have dinner with you. That could lead to misunderstandings. Who knows how jealous your husband would become when his wife invited a stranger to dinner? He didn´t want to cause anyone any problems. "No, Mr. Morgan." You looked down sadly. "I'm a widow. It´s Miss Main." Well, these were your words. But there was far more behind your words. Another truth... "Oh, I-I'm sorry, Miss Main! I didn´t know... I, uh..." Arthur blushed a lot because that conversation was very unpleasant to him and you noticed that. Arthur hadn´t guessed that you were a widow and he didn´t mean to sting in any old or fresh wounds. But you don´t mind. You were not angry with him and you didn´t feel offended. "There is no need to apologize, Mr. Morgan.", you said, smiling gently to the man and you are still waiting for an answer. "My offer is still standing." "Well, ehm... Miss Main, I gladly accept your invite."
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You lived in a cozy little hut not far from Strawberry. You had a small herb and flower garden and you like to take care of your plants. It was a relaxing work and Joseph always helped you. Arthur felt very comfortable in your little house. It was cozy and very rustic. "I bought fresh meat from the butcher in Strawberry this morning, and I hope I cooked the meat well!" You said, bringing the hot pot to the covered table. With the smell of your stew, Arthur's stomach growled. It smelled so good. This was a nice alternative because Pearson's stew was... well, let's just say it like this: Arthur eats his stew just to avoid starving. Pearson's cooking skills were the purest disaster! "Joseph, stay calm! Or do you want Mr. Morgan to think you have no manners?" Joseph chuckled and put the napkin in the cutout of his shirt. "No, mummy!" The little boy sat next to Arthur at the table and he looked up at him with a smile. Arthur returned the child's smile and then looked up at you again. He watched as you filled his plate with the delicious stew. "Smells delicious, Miss!" You gave the charming guy a friendly smile before you filled Josephs's plate with the hot meal.
During dinner, Joseph asked many questions and Arthur didn´t want or couldn´t answer many of them. He couldn´t tell a child of his age all the adventures Arthur had experienced. Many secrets should be hidden. What could he already tell the boy? About heroic stories? But he hardly had any of them. Arthur had done many dishonorable things in his life and he was deeply ashamed. But Arthur told Jospeh some stories. Stories about nature and his harmless adventures.
You watch the two talking with each other and you were very pleased to see how happy Joseph was about your visitor. "Wow, Arthur, you're so cool, you're a real cowboy! Wow!" Arthur laughed softly and was delighted that the boy was so excited about his adventurous stories. But of course, Arthur hadn´t mentioned many passages in his past. That was just not a topic of conversation at a dining table and certainly not suitable for the ears of a child. Especially since he didn´t want to scare you. You shouldn´t have a bad impression of him. "When I grow up, I want to become a cowboy like you! Live an adventurous life, ride through the dusty desert with my friends, and shoot!" Arthur laughed when he heard that. Unfortunately, the life of a cowboy wasn´t as simple as Joseph imagines. To live as an outlaw was damn dangerous and it was a hard life. Constantly on the run from the law. He had lost many friends in recent years and he had seen many of them die. He had held their bleeding bodies in his arms and stood by them until their last breaths.  Arthur wasn´t a religious man, but sometimes a prayer came to his lips to honor his friends and asking Jesus not to let them suffer because of their pain and fear.
"Oh no, kid! You should do something decent when you grow up, like a lawyer or a teacher." "Ohhh... that's boring! I don´t want to sit at a desk all the time! I don´t want to be locked in. I want to be out in nature!" You and Arthur are laughing when Joseph said that. "Joseph, now let Mr. Morgan enjoy his dinner!" You said and took the water carafe to fill the glasses with. Arthur didn´t mind that Joseph asked him so many questions. But Joseph's way of laughing and the way he talked reminded him of his Isaac. His deceased son Isaac and Arthur had to admit that it was pretty hard to suppress the memories of his son. He knew that Joseph wasn´t Isaac and that what happened was a long time ago. But how could he forget his son? Or the mother of Isaac? Eliza... she had been so young when she was murdered.
These painful memories hit him and he had to swallow hard. He sank deep into old thoughts. The thoughts of his little son... how he had always been happy to see his father and how much he had loved him. Arthur closed his eyes for a moment and he kept wondering if he had ever been a good father. He saw Isaac's laughing face in front of him... and he also saw how sad he had been every time Arthur had to leave him again. No, he hadn´t been a good father. He had abandoned Isaac. He had regularly visited Eliza and Isaac, but... he couldn´t have been a real father to Isaac. This fact hurts a lot. He had failed as a father. Miserably failed and he hadn´t been there to save him and Eliza from dying. Tears burned into his eyes and he swallowed hard. He didn´t even hear you and Joseph talking to him. "Mr. Morgan?" Arthur was startled when he heard your voice and looked at you a bit confused. What did you say to him? "I just wanted to ask if you want some more of the stew?" You had seen that Arthur had been lost in his thoughts and you didn´t intend to disturb him. "No, Miss. Thank you." Arthur said softly and picked up the napkin, wiping his mouth with it. "I think I should go home now." Arthur gave you a friendly smile, but also a little sad.
Many of his memories were evoked in this house. Painful visions that he couldn´t endure right now. "Don´t you want to stay for dessert?" You enjoyed the company of Arthur and you didn´t want to be intrusive and hold Arthur here. "Another time, Miss Main." Arthur got up from his chair and smiled at you. "Please, call me Y/N." "Okay, Y/N: Well, thank you for your invite. The stew was delicious!" You were very happy with his words. "Nothing to thank for." You and Joseph accompanied Arthur to the door and before leaving the house he smiled at Joseph and Arthur tip his hat to you, To show you his respect and to say goodbye. "Miss." "Goodbye, Arthur. It was very nice to meet you and I would be very pleased to see you again soon", you said, smiling at the blonde man. You hope to meet him again soon. "Thanks, Y/N! It was a pleasure. I will definitely come back, Miss." So much kindness was not often to be expected these days and it pleased Arthur that you and your son received him so warmly.
"Bye, Arthur!! Come back soon!!" Joseph shouted as Arthur sat on his beautiful horse. Arthur gave you a friendly smile before heading home. "Come on, Joseph." You take Joseph by the hand and lead him back into the house. Soon it would be dark and for Joseph this was bedtime.
Like every night before going to sleep, you tell Joesph about fairy tales and cuddle with him until he falls asleep in your arms. But Joseph was so excited after Arthur's visit that he just didn´t want to sleep. "Arthur is so cool, mummy! I hope he comes back soon! " "Maybe. I don´t know, Joseph", you said, gently stroking his brown hair. Of course, you also hoped Arthur would visit you soon. He was a friendly person, but you saw something in him. He seemed to carry deep wounds. Emotional wounds. You had seen that in his eyes...
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The encounter with you and Joseph, Arthur just didn´t want to go out of his head. Of course, it had been a nice evening, because you and Joseph had been very friendly to him and he appreciated that very much. But many and painful memories were also evoked in Arthur and this hurt terribly. With a heavy sigh, Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of his son Isaac. He remembered how happy his son had been each time his father visited him. That was more important to Isaac than all the gifts Arthur had given him. "Oh, my son..."
His laugh, his angelic face... God, Arthur could still hear his laugh and it almost killed him. Tears were running down his cheeks and Arthur had to gasp hard to stop more tears. But he didn´t succeed.
>> Isaac... I wish I had been a better father to you! <<
Maybe he would still be alive today! Yes, maybe Arthur could have prevented this terrible crime to his son and Eliza.
Since that fateful day, a deep and festering wound rested deep in Arthur's soul that just didn´t want to heal, and he was convinced that it would never heal. Maybe it all happened because he was a bad person and committed many sins. As vengeance. He had taken many lives and fate had taken the lives of the people in his life. That´s the way things went and Arthur was convinced of that. A man like him doesn´t deserve any luck...
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"Careful, Joseph!" You were standing in the general store and paying for your purchase when Joseph curiously took everything into his hands. You look at the salesman in front of the apologetic, but the older man smiled friendly towards you. He didn´t seem to mind that Joseph was so curious. "Thanks, Sir." "Thank you, Miss. Goodbye!" You took the paper bag with the food and went to Joseph. "Come on, darling, we're going home now, and after lunch, let's go fishing, what do you think?" "Oh, yes, that sounds good mummy!" You smiled happily when Joseph grabs your hand and leaves the store with you. "It would be so nice if daddy could be here...", Joseph said suddenly and you stopped, looking down at him. He looked so sad and you were sorry. "Joseph..." You kneel to your son and you gently caress through his hair. He didn´t look at you and sobbed softly. "Hey..." Gently, you reach for his chin and raise his face so he looked at you. You smile at him and you kiss him on his forehead. "I know you miss Daddy, but... we have to accept what happened." It didn´t feel good to lie to your son, but you had your reasons and your son was never allowed to know about them. No way. His father wasn´t alive for Joseph, but you knew it better. You knew the truth about the father of your son... You try to reassure your son and pull him into your arms, stroking his back and you let Joseph cry. You were so sorry he had to grow up without a father, but in that case, it would be better if you kept Joseph away from his father. His father was a dangerous man...
to be continued...
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Partners in Crime Chapter Five
Notes: The Austins meet their bodyguards in this chapter! Again, if you want to be added to my tag list, let me know!
Tag Squad: @riottstheory @thirst-n-bullshit
Austin Theory and Austin Flynn arrived at the McMahon Family Headquarters at nine in the morning, standing outside. Austin T walked up to the door, knocking on it. Like the last time he had visited the McMahon headquarters, the same dark haired woman answered it.
“Here to talk to my parents?” She asked. Austin T nodded, “Yeah…you were here the last time I stopped by, weren’t you?”
“I was, my name is Paige,” Paige said.
“Hi, I’m Austin Theory, that’s Austin Flynn my pseudo-sister/former foster sister,” Austin T made introductions. Paige smiled and motioned the man shadowing her closer.
The young man shadowing her had short, dark hair and was wearing dark sunglasses. He was dressed in a pair of dark pants and a dark jacket.
“This is Joaquin Wilde, he’s my bodyguard,” Paige said.
“Sup?” Joaquin said with a friendly grin.
“He’s your bodyguard? But he seems so…friendly and not scary,” Austin T said. Paige and Joaquin both laughed.
“Yeah, he does seem like that. But he’s a good bodyguard,” Paige said. Austin T and Austin F exchanged a smile as Paige led them in.
“You’re going to be with Raul and Jake, two of the security officers who work here. Raul, like Joaquin, once worked for a drug cartel. They were the personal bodyguards for the cartel leader, a man only known as El Hijo del Fantasma. After el hijo, for lack of a better word, disappeared, my family recruited them,” Paige said.
“Dude was an ass, kidnapped both me and Raul from our families,” Joaquin interjected.
“And Jake has been a family friend for years, he’s trained at our gym and eventually we recruited him after finding out that he had no family,” Paige finished. Austin T and Austin F nodded as the other two led them back into the McMahon’s main office.
Inside the main office, Stephanie McMahon sat at her desk with Hunter Helmsley-McMahon standing behind her, one giant hand sitting on her shoulder. With them were two other men, both looking late-twenties to early-thirties.
The younger one was slightly shorter than the older, and slightly burlier. He had short, dark hair with a bearding covering his chin and jawline. This man was dressed in a pair of dark pants with a dark undershirt, grey vest, and black over jacket. A dark pair of sunglasses sat on his handsome face.
The other man, slightly older but taller and slightly leaner was wearing dark pants and a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He too had dark hair, but was clean shaven and had a pair of glasses sitting on his face.
“Mom, Dad, here are the two Austins,” Paige said as she walked into the room. Joaquin, meanwhile, walked over to the burlier young man and clapped hands with him.
“I’m Austin Theory, this is my sister, Austin Flynn,” Austin T said, making introductions.
“You can call me A if it’s easier for you,” Austin F said shyly. Stephanie smiled and motioned the two unknown men closer.
“This is Raul Mendoza and Jake Atlas (Stephanie pointed to the burlier man and then the leaner one). They will be your bodyguards,” she said.
“Hola,” Raul said, his voice pleasant with a hint of an accent.
“Hey,” Jake added, a grin spreading across his face.
“H-hi,” Austin T said, his face turning red as Jake looked him up and down.
“Jake,” Raul hissed, elbowing his friend in the side. Jake chuckled and grinned at the two.
“I apologize for mi amigo (my friend), he’s a nice guy deep down,” Raul said. Jake rolled his eyes, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”
“It…it’s okay,” Austin T said shyly. Austin F elbowed her brother in the ribs, giving him a smirk. Austin T rolled his eyes and turned to the bodyguards.
“So are we going to be kept together or is one of you going to be each of our guards….?” Austin T asked. Raul and Jake exchanged a look.
“I guess it is up to you two, if you want us to do you two as a pair, we can. Or we can have one who is the bodyguard for one and the other the other, or it could be a mix of both,” Jake said.
“Both would probably be a good idea,” Austin F said. Raul gave the blonde woman a smile.
“Alrighty, it’s up to you and the other Austin,” he said. Austin F flushed and looked down, her cheeks turning red. Austin T laughed and smiled at Jake, “How about me and you pair up?”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Jake said, grinning back. Austin T glanced down, blushing slightly. There was something about the darker haired man that….made him feel warm inside.
“So you two will be staying with us,” Seth said, “We have an apartment for you.”
“We can’t,” Austin T protested.
“Why not?” Hunter challenged, raising an eyebrow.
“We don’t like taking handouts from people,” Austin F said, “Makes us in debt to them, and we don’t like that.”
“Listen, the Elite wants you two dead. You can accept our bodyguards, but you have to stay in our apartment. Or, you can deny the apartment, but you also don’t get our bodyguards. That’s our only condition to having them, you stay in our apartment,” Stephanie said. Austin T and Austin F exchanged a look before the two of them nodded.
“Okay,” Austin T agreed.
“Good,” Stephanie said.
“Raul and Jake will show you to the apartment. It is armed for our guards, and has a required passcode for entry. We ask that if you leave, you take either Raul or Jake with you,” Hunter added.
“Okay,” Austin T agreed, though somewhat reluctantly. Hunter and Stephanie nodded as the four headed out. Raul and Jake headed to an apartment complex not too far away from the banking headquarters, leading the two Austins into the elevator.
“So do the McMahon’s like own this complex or something?” Austin T asked.
“Pretty much,” Jake said with a grin.
“Us guards live there, as do some of the McMahon kids, though they aren’t really kids anymore,” Raul added.
“So where are you taking us in it?” Austin F asked.
“Twenty-ninth floor belongs to us bodyguards. The first twelve floors contain various meeting rooms with Thirteen through thirty being general apartment floors. Thirty-one through thirty-five are for the McMahon’s themselves with the top, thirty-five, belonging to Mrs. and Mrs. McMahon,” Jake explained. When the elevator reached the twenty-ninth floor, the four stepped out. Raul and Jake led Austin T and Austin F to a room near the back of the floor. Room 2932. Instead of a regular door knob and keyhole, there was a door handle and a keypad next to the door. Raul walked up to the keypad and put in the four digit code. Though Austin F and Austin T couldn’t see the number, Jake knew that the number Raul was punching in was 4057.
Jake grabbed the door handle and turned it, pushing the door open. Raul ushered the Austins inside, and the two looked around in awe. The inside of the apartment was large and well decorated.
“We can show you to yours rooms,” Jake said.
“How many rooms are in this apartment?” Austin T asked.
“Five,” Raul answered as he and Jake led the two Austins to the back area where the rooms were.
“Here are the rooms, Raul and I are staying in the rooms across the hall. If anything, and I mean anything at all, happens, yell for us and we will come running,” Jake said. The two Austins nodded and headed into their rooms.
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albapuella · 4 years
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How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter Two)
AO3
Fandom: Homestuck
Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.
Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday. Didn’t bother with the formatting this time: You want the fancy formatting, go to AO3 :D
Day 1:
Despite his slacker appearance (and life-style, to be honest), Dave was always punctual. He'd even made an effort to look the part of a guy going on a date with another guy: jeans with only a few holes at the knees, his favorite record shirt, and a red hoodie—all freshly cleaned. So freshly cleaned that the sweater was still very slightly damp. Well, whatever, it'd be fine. They were having dinner first, and that meant he'd have plenty of time for the thing to dry out before they went to the movies where the main thrust of Dave's doki-doki plan would commence.
Karkat arrived a few minutes later. He wasn't dressed to the nines, but it was at least to the sevens. It occurred to Dave, as he watched him approach, that he hadn't known how tall Karkat was. The answer was slightly shorter than Dave but with a more solid build. Stocky. Or maybe that was just the black sweater he was wearing. Then again, his legs looked pretty solid in the black pants he was wearing, too. Either way, he looked good.
Dave gave him an appreciative whistle which made Karkat's eyes narrow. Not the reaction he'd wanted. “Looking good, Karkat,” he said quickly, hoping to smooth over any feathers he might have inadvertently ruffled. “I'm digging the whole sexy college professor thing you've got going.”
“Uh, thanks,” Karkat said with evident disbelief. “You, uh, you look good, too.” He straightened up. “You said we were doing dinner first.”
“Yep.” Dave held out his arm. “I’m taking you to my favorite place. A lot of people think it’s wack, but I’m buying, so if you really don’t like it, at least it didn’t cost you anything.” When his date didn't immediately take his offered arm, he shook it invitingly. “It's not too far from here.”
Karkat looked from Dave's arm to Dave, suspicious. Then he sighed and laid his hand on Dave's arm, his hold tighter than Dave had expected it to be considering his earlier hesitation. “Okay. Fine. Sounds great. Let's go.”
---
The first thing Karkat noticed when he took Dave's arm was that his sleeve was damp. Then he noticed the feeling of the arm beneath his fingers. Despite looking thin enough to break, there was some muscle here. As they walked to what was apparently Dave’s favorite restaurant, Dave just kept talking. If Karkat had been offered a thousand dollars, he doubted he could have remembered any specific details of the inanity he'd been subjected to. A nervous talker. He'd have to put that down in his notes.
Dinner went much the same. Dave talked at him while Karkat sat there trying to eat his food (overpriced, faux Italian—of all the places Dave could have chosen, he'd picked a fucking Olive Garden? That was going in his notes, too.). In all honesty, Karkat tried not to pay too much attention to what was being said. First, he'd already determined that most of what came out of this man's mouth was completely meaningless nonsense, and second, if he actually listened to any of it, he'd be hard pressed not to respond to the idiocy. While Dave had no evident compunction about swearing, Karkat wanted to get through at least this first date without screaming.
All right, so that was an exaggeration. Some of what Dave said was actually pretty funny. In a hopelessly awkward sort of way. Karkat hated that Dave's clumsy compliments were making him blush. Clearly, the man had brain damage... which also explained the rapping that Dave kept doing (completely unprovoked!). By the time dinner was over, Karkat was only too grateful that their next destination meant that Dave would have to stop talking.
---
Since Dave had picked the restaurant, Karkat had picked the movie. Some romantic comedy chick flick Dave couldn't be bothered to remember the title of. Still, it gave him an opportunity to sit right tight next to Karkat and eat his weight in popped, buttery goodness, so he really couldn't complain.
“What’s the deal with that dude?” Dave whispered. “I thought he was already tight with that other chick. What gives? Is he cheating on her?”
Karkat made a noise like a cat being stepped on but softer. “Dave,” he whispered back, his tone full of the same sing-songy patient impatience that Rose would use when she thought Dave was being particularly dim, “if you were paying attention, you'd already know that that 'dude' is that 'other chick's' cousin. They are probably not romantically involved. I know you're from Texas, but that's not how it works above the Mason Dixon line.” Then he ducked his head and took a long drink from his soda. “Sorry. Just-just watch the movie and be quiet.”
Dave blinked. He'd been starting to think Karkat wasn't going to open up at all. At least, he'd had fuck all to say during dinner. Even if it had been an incest joke at his expense, it still was nice to hear Karkat say something. Something that wasn't just non-committal noises or unenthusiastic agreements. He leaned against Karkat's shoulder to whisper, “It's not true, you know. About Texas. We don't fuck our cousins; I mean, we do, but not first cousins. We're strictly second cousins only. It's a rule. Of course, none of my second cousins are as hot as you, so I'd be willing to make an exception. Just this once.”
This earned him a light elbowing to the gut and a low growl, but Karkat didn't push him off.
By the end of the movie, Dave had gotten five more elbows to the gut, three startled bursts of laughter, two creative insults (quickly joined by muttered apologies), and one “Will you please just let me watch this movie?” Over all, Dave felt like he'd succeeded in charming the hell out of this motherfucker, thank you very much.
They'd walked out into the open air, a nice breeze whisking away the smell of popcorn and sweat from the movie theater. “I had a lot of fun, Karkat. Thanks for coming on this date with me. Do you think we could do this again sometime?”
Karkat blinked at him, a clear look of surprise on his face. “Oh, uh, sure.” He shook his head. “I mean, yes, I'd love to go on another date with you.”
Dave's heart leapt. “Awesome. You can hit me up on Pesterchum. Or I can hit you up. How about I hit you up?”
“Fine, that's... that's fine.” Karkat's smile seemed uneven. “I'll be looking forward to it.”
Although Dave was tempted to try for a kiss, he didn't think he ought to press his luck so far on the first date. Karkat had loosened up some while they'd been in the theater, but out here under the streetlight, he looked nervous again. The last thing Dave wanted to do was chase him away. “Okay then. I guess I'll see you later?”
A slow nod. “Yeah, later.” Karkat was stilted and contained again. Restricted, like a hermit crab stuck in a shell that was too tight. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. Dave had caught a few glimpses of the real Karkat tonight, and the sight made him hungry to see more.
Dave watched him walk away, admiring the view with a new goal in mind: he was going to get Karkat Vantas out of his shell if it was the last thing he did. Getting to rub him in Rose’s face at her wedding was only going to be a bonus.
---
* Never shuts up. Not even during movies. Especially during movies. Attention span of a gnat. From Texas. Doesn't know how to use a dryer. Finds me attractive. Probable brain damage. Funny. Charming. Obnoxious. Never takes off sunglasses. Olive Garden.
Karkat sighed and set down his pen. He'd tried his best to be as cordial as he knew how to be, and he still hadn't managed to last for the entire four hours without insulting his date. Multiple times. Oh well. At least Dave was apparently brain damaged enough to find rudeness terribly amusing (if the way he'd kept bugging Karkat during the movie had been any indication).
He'd been surprised when Dave had actually asked if they could go on another date. Karkat knew he hadn't made the best impression, and yet Dave wanted to spend more time with him? He looked over his notes, trying to ignore the surge of happiness that filled him at the thought. It didn't mean anything: Dave was clearly an idiot, and after a few more days, Karkat was going to start on the offensive. Whatever meager promise there would have been in this fledgling romance, it was still doomed from the start: like all of Karkat's relationships.
Day 2:
It was all Dave could do to wait until the next day to pester Karkat. He didn't want to come off as too eager, after all. Didn't want to put Karkat off. But Dave was only so strong.
TG: so i was thinking TG: if youre not busy TG: we could go to the park this afternoon TG: watch the grifters and maybe get robbed TG: or you could come to my place and hang TG: is it too soon to do that? TG: asking for a friend TG: this is dave by the way TG: i dont know how many people youre talking to TG: not that its any of my business TG: i wouldnt want you up in my grill asking me who im talking to CG: IT IS SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING ON SUNDAY. TG: yea and youre up anyway CG: BECAUSE YOU WOKE ME UP. WITH YOUR TEXTS. THAT YOU SENT JUST NOW. TG: oh shit sorry CG: IT'S FINE. I NEEDED TO GET UP ANYWAY. CG: YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH ME? WHY?
Dave frowned down at his phone. Was Karkat fishing for compliments or was he being serious?
TG: because its fun to hang out with you TG: thats how this works right? TG: i thought we could watch another movie TG: at my place TG: or your place i guess if that works better for you TG: ive got popcorn if that sweetens the deal at all CG: YES. BECAUSE THE WAY TO MY HEART IS MICROWAVED POPCORN. TG: fucking called it CG: … CG: FINE. I'LL MEET YOU AT THE PARK AT 2:30PM. IS THAT ACCEPTABLE? TG: perfect ill meet you by the giant yo CG: YOU MEAN THE OY/YO. TG: tomatoes tomotoes karkat
Dave watched the little “CG is typing” message run for almost a minute, feeling his nervousness grow. What had he said that required a novel length response? He managed to reign in the impulse to apologize preemptively, but it was a struggle.
CG: OKAY. WHATEVER. I'LL MEET YOU THERE.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Fine, good then. Nothing was wrong.
TG: im looking forward to it TG: its not hard to intuit TG: when we come out to debut TG: sit by the yo then well go round TG: downtown get the lowdown TG: before we get busy in the hissie TG: partake of the fizzie cause we got a duty TG: to watch the fuck out of this movie CG: RIGHT. SEE YOU THEN. BYE.
Dave shrugged. He couldn't expect Karkat to really appreciate his off the cuff rhymes so soon after waking up, he supposed. Maybe they'd land better later. Flat reception or not, the important thing was he'd gotten Karkat to agree to come to his apartment. He looked around, frowning. Maybe he should clean up a little.
---
Jesus Fucking Christ. Karkat tossed his phone on the bedside table with a groan. It had been all that he could do not to curse out Dave like there would never be a tomorrow. Considering the fact that he was currently planning to go to the apartment of a practical stranger, that much might just be true for him. He lay in bed a little longer, out of spite mostly—he could never get back to sleep after being woken up—, before getting out from under the covers. First things first: notes.
* Inconsiderate asshole. Horrible rapper. Calls the OY/YO “the YO”. Doesn't know the right way to express “tomatoes, tomahtos”. Wants to spend time with me. Insane. We have that much in common.
Thanks to Dave's wake-up call, Karkat had plenty of time to eat a hearty breakfast and start his article.
“How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure” BY KARKAT VANTAS
Since you have decided to read this article, I will assume that you are looking to learn the art of ruining your relationships without the mess of all that trial and error. Maybe you enjoy breaking hearts. Maybe you are the kind of masochist who enjoys getting their heart broken but is at a loss as to how to properly sabotage your relationship yourself. If you can manage to follow these simple steps, you will be well on your way to the same bitter loneliness that usually only the most unlucky in love get the privilege to experience. 
The first step is the victim. For the purposes of this article, I picked one that is particularly obnoxious and brain dead. You may have different qualities you are looking for in a potential short-term partner. Ultimately, the most important thing to consider when you plan to lose a guy (or gal or enby) is that you make certain they are one you do not mind losing. That way you can start the process without any regrets.
The second step is the hook. Laugh at their dumb jokes; accept their stupid compliments; ignore their mangling of the English language (in my case, his horrible rapping); and generally be as agreeable as you can manage. A severe lack of intelligence in your short-term partner can be a boon here, though you will find most people are not immune to flattery. You need to make certain that you have your short-term partner well and truly interested in you before you attempt to lose them. If you try to lose them too soon, you will miss out on the full relationship ruining experience.
A little too informal, maybe, but a fine start. Depending on how well this afternoon went (assuming he wasn't murdered and stuffed in a closet), maybe Karkat would be able to start on step three. He was able to stomp down his nascent guilt with ease. After all, Dave wouldn't have been interested in him after the novelty wore off anyway.
---
The afternoon was a little warmer than the evening had been, but Dave still wore his hoodie. It felt lucky, and it was still clean. More the latter than the former, but the point stood! He sat down on the bench next to the giant yellow YO installation and waited. While it was tempting to shoot a message to Karkat, he decided against it. He’d be seeing him in less than ten minutes, and he didn’t want him to think he was clingy. Which he wasn’t. Totally not. Dave Strider had never clung his whole life. Ask anyone. Except Jade. Don’t ask her. 
He noticed his leg was bouncing and put a stop to that noise. He was a cool operator. He had this thing on lock. The date yesterday had gone good, right? Karkat wouldn’t have agreed to see him again if he’d had a terrible time. He pushed back his hood and ran a hand through his hair. Nothing to worry about. He’d have a date for Rose’s wedding and continue sorting out the mystery that was Karkat Vantas.
Dave heard the crunch of gravel and looked over to see Karkat approaching. Another sweater combo, but gray this time. The guy had a style he preferred, clearly. It was fine: he looked great. He stood and closed the distance between them. “Hey, Karkat.”
“Hey,” Karkat returned, frowning. Of course, that seemed to be his default expression. “I brought a movie to watch,” he said gruffly. 
Although Dave had been hoping he’d be able to pick the movie this time, he wasn’t too cut up about it. It might be a little early in the relationship to bring out The Room anyway. He wouldn’t know. “Sounds great. My place isn’t too far from here.” He held his arm out. “Shall we?”
Again, Karkat regarded his arm with suspicion. “Why do you do this?”
“Do what?”
Karkat opened his mouth before seeming to think better of whatever he’d planned to say. “Never mind.” He took Dave’s arm. “Let’s get going.”
As they walked to his apartment, Dave tried to keep the conversation flowing, but Karkat’s subdued responses quickly killed his enthusiasm. “I feel like I’m talking too much,” he said finally. 
Karkat mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like “You think?” before he shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just a little too tired to, uh, participate, that’s all.”
Dave winced at the reminder of his first faux pas of the day. “No problem, dude. I got us covered. I got words for days.”
“Months even,” Karkat added before ducking his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have--”
Nudging Karkat’s side, Dave laughed. “Nah, man it’s true. I’ve got words for fucking years.”
Karkat smiled slightly. “Decades.”
“Centuries.”
“Eons”
“Until the next motherfucking epoch, I’ve got words, Karkat. So many words. All the words even.”
Karkat snorted, covering his face with his free hand. “Damn it, Dave. Stop making yourself likeable.”
“I think that’s the point of this whole thing,” Dave pointed out reasonably. “Dating, I mean. It’s not like the old days where your dad and my dad decide if you’re worth enough chickens to trade me for, you know. These days I get to decide for myself how many chickens I want to be traded for.” He gave Karkat a mock critical eye. “How about it, Karkat? How many chickens could I get for you?”
“I don’t know,” Karkat said, his mock serious tone almost too close to a serious tone for Dave’s comfort. “Let me look in my pocket.” He made a show of staring down at the pocket containing his free hand before sliding the hand out and flipping Dave the bird. “Is this enough for you?”
Dave laughed. “I’m sorry, Karkat. You must have at least five chickens to ride this ride.” He felt his face flush but pushed onward. “I guess you’ll have to settle for a movie, and maybe some pizza.”
Karkat was grinning, and Dave decided right then and there that he wanted to keep seeing it. “Maybe next time.” As though to intentionally spite him, Karkat frowned again. “Are we almost there?”
“Yeah, man, just a little further.” As they continued their journey to his apartment, Dave felt himself frown. What was Karkat’s deal? He was a lot more fun when he let himself be himself. Dave didn’t like meanness for meanness sake, but he enjoyed a good joke. For some reason, Karkat seemed to think he shouldn’t joke around? Why? His frown deepened. Karkat also apologized a lot. And he was so often deferential even when it was obvious he had OPINIONS he wasn’t sharing. The pieces were adding up to a disturbing picture. 
Maybe after he was done hanging out with Karkat today, he should hit up Rose. She’d know what to do.
---
Karkat’s expectations for Dave’s apartment had been fairly low, and he’d been pleasantly surprised. While not as meticulous as his own apartment, there at least weren’t empty food containers on every surface or dirty clothes everywhere. There was an overall shabbiness though: the feeling that the occupant didn’t care overly much about the apartment’s upkeep. The futon in front of the television was ancient and threadbare as were the carpets. The posters hung on the walls were dusty and faded, and there was a sort of mildewy smell. Still, as previously mentioned it was clean (more or less), and there were no obvious signs of a hidden murder dungeon (not that there would be if there were one, naturally). 
“Nice place,” he said for politeness’ sake. 
Dave beamed like a little boy who’d gotten just what he’d wanted for Christmas. “Thanks. It’s not much, but it keeps the rain off.” He gestured towards the futon. “Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got apple juice. And water from the tap, I guess. I could go pick up some beer if you want to go that route, or--”
Karkat held up his hand, hoping to stem the tide of suggestions. “Water’s fine, thank you.”
“You’ve got it,” Dave said before tilting his head and making twin awkward gestures with both hands involving his pointer fingers. “I’ll be back in a flash.”
It wasn’t until after he’d disappeared into, presumably, the kitchen that Karkat realized he’d been making finger guns. What a dork. Not that Karkat was any more suave, but he liked to think he was at least less childish. He tried to supplant the rush of fondness he felt by recalling just how pissed he’d been with this manchild this morning. It was not one hundred percent successful.
Dave returned with two glasses: water for Karkat, and apple juice for himself. “Take a seat,” he insisted as he set the glasses on the coffee table (sans coasters). “It won’t bite.”
Gingerly, Karkat took a seat on the ancient futon. The padding was so thin, he could feel the bars beneath. It was going to take a while to become unbearable, and he hoped this hang out? date? didn’t last long enough for that to happen. Just as he’d been about to reach for the water, suddenly uncertain whether he actually ought to drink anything Dave gave him, Dave flopped down onto the futon beside him like a sack of gangly flour. “Dave!”
“S’up?” Dave asked, grinning. 
“Don’t ‘s’up’ me--,” Karkat managed to stop himself from calling Dave an asshole, but only just. “Just don’t ‘s’up’ me. Speak like a normal person.” He realized he was making a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Sorry, I--”
“Dude,” Dave said, his grin dropping away, “Karkat, you don’t have to apologise for every kind of mean thing you say. I’m a big boy: I can take it.” 
Karkat supposed he shouldn’t be surprised: he’d never been good at pretending to be a good person. If he could have managed that feat for any length of time, he wouldn’t be in this position. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as dryly as he could. 
“I’m serious.” Dave sat up and turned to face Karkat head on, and Karkat saw his own annoyed expression mirrored in the black lenses. “I haven’t known you very long, and maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but--”
“You’re right,” Karkat interrupted, feeling his tenuous hold on his temper slipping. “You shouldn’t say anything.” After taking a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to say anything he didn’t mean to, he spoke again. “Let’s just watch the movie and eat some microwaved popcorn. Does that sound like something we could do? Or would you like to keep pretending you have some deep insights into my character as though we’ve known each other longer than three days?”
Dave raised his hands, and Karkat realized he’d sounded far more aggressive than the situation warranted. At this rate, he wouldn’t even get a chance to lose this asshole! Nice job, Vantas: stellar work. “No, you’re right. I’ll step off.” Dave said softly. He got off of the futon with far more grace than he’d flopped onto it with. “You just put the movie in, and I’ll, uh, I’ll make the popcorn.”
Karkat watched him go before putting his head in his hands. Well, fuck. As though this whole situation hadn’t been awkward before. He should just leave. Just leave, forget about his stupid article, and stop dragging this stupidly likeable idiot down with him. He should. 
He stayed where he was. 
---
Dave took maybe longer than he absolutely needed to to prepare the popcorn. As much as he liked to consider himself a smooth operator, he could tell when he’d made a mistake, and he wanted to give the guy in the other room a chance to cool down. What made it made it worse was that Karkat had been right to get mad at him: Dave barely knew him. In his place, Dave would probably be pissed, too. 
Even so, Dave didn’t think he was wrong about the conclusions he’d come to. It was obvious that Karkat was, for whatever reason, putting on a show for Dave’s sake. Honestly, it was kind of creepy. If he understood why Karkat felt the need to do that, he’d feel better about it.
But it wasn’t his business. Not yet. Maybe you had to reach a certain level on the boyfriend echeladder before that kind of thing was something you talked about. It would probably help if they were actually boyfriends and not just newly dating, too. There seemed to be at least one obvious solution to that problem.
Dave could be patient. After all, he still had eleven days or so to get Karkat to at least like him enough to be his plus one at Rose’s wedding. It wasn’t all he wanted anymore, but it'd be enough to start with. As Rose had so often told him, start with small goals. 
He poured an obscene amount of butter over the popcorn in the bowl and headed out to the living room. Karkat was bent over, fiddling with the DVD player, and when he looked up at Dave, his mouth was curved somewhat upwards. “What movie do you have for us?”
Karkat stood. “Coming to America.” He made his way back to the futon and sat down as though worried he might fall through if he sat down too quickly. “It’s more comedy than romantic, so I thought you might enjoy it more.”
That sounded vaguely familiar. “Okay.” Dave joined him on the futon, taking care not to startle him this time. “Let’s get this party started.”
---
Karkat had hoped bringing a comedy would hold Dave’s attention enough to keep him from talking through the whole thing. He’d been mistaken. Yes, a lot of what Dave said was funny, but it just never fucking stopped. Finally, Karkat couldn’t take it anymore.
He grabbed the remote and paused the movie. Then he very deliberately set the remote back down. “I want you to listen to me, Dave. Are you listening?”
Dave looked confused, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’m listening. Do you have something you want to tell me? I’m all ears. Lay it on me.”
God, he couldn’t even listen without rambling! “Would it kill you to shut up?” He saw Dave’s eyebrows peek over the tops of his glasses. A part of him told him to reconsider his current course of action, but naturally, Karkat could never abide by a piece of good advice. “Would it literally cause you to drop dead if you couldn’t expel your idiocy out of your mouth like a goddamned septic pipe full of half-formed metaphors and bullshit? Would your head explode? Can we try that experiment and see what happens?” Karkat felt his fingernails biting into his palms and realized he’d clenched his fists. “What do you say, Dave? Wait, I’ve changed my mind: don’t say anything. Let me bask in the gentle ethereal glow of silence for a moment. Can you do that for me, Dave? Can you let me bask? Will the endless flow of words finally cease?”
‘No’ was clearly the answer to that question since Dave was already opening his mouth. Then, to Karkat’s utter shock, he shut it again. His expression wasn’t ever easy to read with those douche shades he insisted on wearing all the time, but now it was completely closed off. Even the eyebrows had lowered back to their original position.
Silence stretched between them. 
Karkat felt sick to his stomach. Shit. Shit. He really just couldn’t do it, could he? Couldn’t pretend even for a few hours that he was a normal person. Well, so much for this experiment. Time to write off this little adventure. Was it worth even trying to apologise? Before he could decide, Dave made the decision for him. 
He was clapping. “Damn, just got owned,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face. “You owned me, Karkat. You should feel proud. Not everyone gets own this,” he gestured to himself. “I just hope you know what you’re getting into: I’m barely house trained.”
For an embarrassingly high number of seconds, all Karkat could do was blink. “You’re not mad?”
“Fuck no,” Dave said, still grinning. “I’m a big kid now. I’ve graduated from diapers all the way to pull ups. It takes more than a finely crafted, well-deserved take down to take me down.” The grin softened. “This is what I was trying to say before: I want to date you, not some weird super agreeable version of you. If you want to tell me off for talking too much, fucking go for it. You’ve got a way with insults--it’s a gift. Frankly, I’m insulted you’ve been keeping it to yourself.”
“There’s more where that comes from, asshole,” Karkat said before he could stop himself. To his amazement, Dave still seemed more amused than anything. A strange mixture of anger and fondness welled up inside him. “Stop grinning at me, and watch the fucking movie.” He picked up the remote and hesitated. “You don’t have to be silent,” he said, still feeling a little guilty over his earlier outburst, “just maybe less talking?”
Dave made a big show of running a zipper over his lips. Then he immediately ruined it by saying, “Scouts honor, Karkat. My word is bond. You can cash that shit at the bank.”
Karkat tried to picture Dave as a boy scout and failed. “Right.” He pressed play and the movie resumed. Of course, Dave still talked during the movie, but the sheer volume of words had slowed to a moderate stream rather than the full-bore blasting Karkat had been subjected to earlier. As he sat there on the futon, occasionally answering Dave’s stupid comments with barbs of his own, he felt warm in a way that was only nominally connected to the temperature of the arm he was leaning against. He felt… content.
---
Overall, Operation Hang Out had been a big success. It had been rocky in places, but again, overall, Dave felt like he’d hit his major mission objectives. A movie was watched, pizza was consumed, and Karkat finally, finally, did something other than apologise every time a hint of the person he’d met at the cafe had come through. He didn’t necessarily want to keep pissing Karkat off, but that bitch fit he’d thrown had been epic. 
Karkat wasn’t the kind of guy Dave had expected to find himself interested in. At least, he’d never thought he’d have a grumpy asshole kink. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the more quiet parts of Karkat’s visit, too. It had felt nice to sit on the futon with someone leaning against his shoulder. Dave wasn’t a sap, no, not a suave guy like him, but he couldn’t deny he’d like to do it again some time. 
He considered texting Rose as he’d planned to earlier before deciding not to. After all, he’d managed the first crisis all on his own, and she might consider it cheating if he got her help. No, for now at least, this bird was flying solo.
---
* Clean apartment. Finger guns. Puts too much butter on popcorn. Also talks during movies outside theater setting. Likes getting insulted. Kink?  Wants to date the “real” me. Delusional. Comfortable arm. Had a nice time. Had acceptable time. Clothes in his shower??? 
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eye-zen · 4 years
Text
DROWNED
Swim or Sink
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As I waited for the TSA security screening to open, my heart raced. It was absolutely the wrong time to have any negative thoughts but the anxiousness hit me like a ton of coconuts. You know that moment when you imagine everything that could possibly go wrong. 
The airport was cold and had a feeling of abandonment. Occupied only by workers cleaning, a few TSA agents, and an armed officer accompanied by a german shepherd. Arriving 4 hours before my 8am flight, the anticipation was overwhelming. After braving the cold for several months I was prepared to head closer to the equator. Where the sun was food and the sea was a reflection of the sky on a cloudless day. Stress is an understatement as life in the city is accompanied by ceaseless sirens, congested trains, and accessibility to any junk food you can think of. The separation from my island home had taken its toll on me, ironically, I never lived in the islands but I imagined for years what it would be like. Never thought I would make the move under these circumstances but people around me were dying and I felt the grim reaper closing in.
To relieve the overthinking I put on my headphones and listened to some jazz, It was Nocturne by Alfa Mist.  It calmed my nerves long enough for security screening to open and for me to begin the process of checking in to my flight. The check in process was smooth as I packed very light, just a duffle bag with a few underclothes and a couple of essentials. I headed to gate 18 in a sleepwalking daze. Throughout the desolate airport I saw a few people sleeping in corners cuddling with their charging spouses but we call them cell phones. 
I found a seat in a dimly lit corner near the window. The seat faced the tarmac and had a view of the city just on the horizon.  Taking deep breaths, I still couldn’t believe the moment was here. Thinking to myself, by this time tomorrow I’ll be sleeping in a nice bed and waking up hours later to the fresh smell of sea water. My eyes began to burn and became heavy like bricks as I fought my sleep. Finally I gave in as the tunes I was listening to expedited the process. An hour later I woke up and surveyed my surroundings, there seemed to be a few people who arrived and were waiting. I picked up my phone to check the time and change to a different playlist. Within a few minutes I was nodding off again, I hadn’t slept in over 34 hours. This time when my eyes opened the sun was rising over the cityscape and a few more airplanes had entered onto the tarmac. When I turned my head the seats were starting to fill up as life was finally being breathed into the airport. I adjusted myself in the seat and reached for my bottle of water. It had just enough for a sip, not nearly enough to quench my thirst. A few seats away from me was an older woman with what appeared to be her grandchild. I asked her if she could keep an eye on my belongings while I went to the restroom and a concession stand. I asked if she would like two bottles of water as well but she politely declined. When I entered the bathroom I looked for a urinal with the least amount of liquid on the floor. Afterwards I made my way to a sink and made wudu,  Washing my hands, face, nose, ears, and arms before drying myself off with a paper towel. I felt refreshed but still tired, I guess the 2 hour nap had not done me much justice. After buying my water and a few packs of M&ms i headed back to my seat. I killed time for a few more hours before my flight was finally announced to be boarded. I walked down the long corridor to the plane and sat at my seat 27F. Before the entire plane could be seated I fastened my seatbelt, turned on my music and went to sleep. 
I woke up and heard the ice shuffling into a cup before I opened my eyes
Excuse me would you like orange juice, tea, coffee, or water ?
I quickly wiped whatever drool had not made it to my clothes and opened the window. The sun was glaring and instantly made me hot so I closed it.  May I have some water please, thank you. I looked at the time and only slept for 45 minutes. I thought to myself, these naps are feeling like eternity. I opened the window back halfway and stared out of it. Gliding across the sky, in and out of clouds I couldn’t help but smile, I dreamed of this. 
Hours later we began the descenion and then landing. Looking out the window I could see nothing but plush green mountains sitting in the middle of blue water. As we approached the island, the water went from dark blue to teal, nothing I’ve ever seen before. The landing was smooth and I noticed this airport didnt have any bridges for the plane to be attached too. To my pleasant surprise the plane stopped  in the middle of the tarmac and passengers began exiting the plane. As people wrestled with their carry on luggage from overhead compartments I sat patiently with my duffle bag ready but nervous to exit. One of the flight attendants opened the back door which made the process go quicker. As I exited the plane a gust of wind hit my face. It felt like a smooth caress. The smell of sea water instantly made me smile as my nose and lungs happily embraced it. 
The airport was surrounded by green mountains and the ocean could be heard just over a treeline. I couldn’t believe I finally made it. Feeling like I escaped the grasp of death only to make it to heaven on earth. I walked past the baggage claim and straight to the arrival section. I was the first from my flight to leave. Clothed with a hoodie and a long sleeve t-shirt I took it off and almost threw it in the trash before hearing a familiar voice.
OY ! aye cuz ! 
I looked up and there was my cousin sitting in his car. I hadn’t seen King in years. One year he came up for the summer when we were younger. All I remember was his accent and him putting a tiddy on my basketball from always kicking it. 
Yo…wassup cuz! 
Glad to see you made it, how was your flight ?
Man it was ok, I slept a lot. The view from up there was crazy though cuz, can’t believe we are in the middle of the ocean like ths. 
Yes man, this is my home. Nothing like it you finally made it. I’m gonna show you a good time….yo where are the rest of your bags ?
This is all I have. 
What ? Haha pack light huh ?
You already know cuz…
I threw my bag in the back seat of his pickup truck and we drove off of the airport lot. The weather was beautiful and the landscape even better. Just hours ago I was in the concrete jungle now I’m cruising in paradise. There were vibrant colors, a stark contrast to the dark grey matter that clouded the city. People on the side of the road selling fresh fruit and vegetables, even a man on a horse in the middle of traffic. A few minutes later we stopped on the side of the road and got some coconuts to drink from a man selling them. At first I wasn’t too fond of the taste but I finished it and felt refreshed. More refreshing then any bottle of water I’ve ever had.
Well cuz were going to go on a longer ride later but I have to work this morning and afternoon.  I’ll drop you back off at the house for now. 
Damn Cuz, you work two jobs ?
Yes Man, in the morning doing a little construction and at night got a gig at the resort. Here, you gotta hustle. Paradise ain’t easy but it’s worth it.
Yea, I get it.
Well I don’t live too far from town so you can find your way around while I’m at work. All you have to do is tell the taxi where i live and they’ll drop you off. I mean unless you are tired, it looks like you haven’t slept in days.
Okay cool. Well yeah  you right about that. It’s been a day or two. Couldn’t sleep thinking about getting on that plane.
Yea well I heard everything that was going down up there, I’m glad you made it. Here, it’s all about respect. You don’t trouble anyone then everything should be irie. 
Yea for sure .
We turned off the main road and started heading up a steep hill. The road was not paved and surrounded by trees, so much so that it blocked the sun. After a few bumps we approached a bright red house with a white roof sitting on top of a grassy knoll. The view was amazing, I could see the ocean and what appeared to be “town” at the  bottom of the mountain. I didn’t realize how high we came but we seemed to be pretty elevated. 
Dam cuz this is a crazy view..
Yeh Meh son. Before I go to work I sit out here and drink my tea. Early in the morning or late at night you could hear the waves crashing from here, especially during a full moon. 
Well let me show you around real quick, I have to head to work. 
King gave me a tour of the house and where I would be sleeping. The house smelled like incense and had art on nearly all the walls. My bedroom was small but decent. It had a bed, nightstand, closet, but the best feature was the windows. I had a perfect view and the breeze flowed through effortlessly. Swaying the curtains back and forth like sails on a boat. I flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Those few minutes became more as I fell into a power nap once again. When I woke up the breeze was still blowing and I still was in the islands. Part of me was extremely relieved that it wasn’t just a dream. 
I took a shower freshened up and decided to go exploring. On the kitchen counter King left a house key and a freshly picked mango from the tree outside. 
I began my trek down the hill in search for town. Cars passed me by honking as they maneuvered down the narrow winding road. One of the cars honked as it passed me by and I waved. The car stopped so I guess they thought I flagged them down. It turned out to be what’s known as a dollar cab.
Yea yea,. Good Afternoon, Where are you headed?
 I’m going to town. 
To town huh ? You’re not from here , What part of town are you going too ?
I don’t know, just town. I’m going to walk around and check everything out. 
Ok, ok. Well what brings you here brethren. 
I don’t know, just wanted to experience paradise.
Oh, ok I see. Well from my experience talking to foreigners who come here it’s always two things. You are either running from something or running to something. Which one is it ?
To be honest it might be both. Now if i’m running to something, only time will tell. 
Yes, I. Well here on my island, it’s a beautiful place. Weather is 80 degrees plus everyday, plenty of good food and beautiful women. But one thing I must warn you. Some of the women here are Mami wata or what you foreigners call mermaids. You must be careful, nothing here is what it seems. 
 Yea ok, i’ll keep that in mind. 
We approached the town after a few minutes. The buildings looked relatively old and there were quite a few tourists traversing the streets. I paid the taxi driver the fare and exited the car. I crossed the street with a family of roosters and entered into a clothing store. I bought some sunglasses and a bottle of water. Block by block I walked through town learning its layout. It must have been obvious I wasn’t from the island because I could see people staring at me. I thought I would be able to blend in, being that the tourists were for the most part white but that wasn’t the case. After an hour or two of walking around I found a restaurant on the harbor. The water was like a parking lot for boats. The sail boats seemed to have stretched for miles as traffic in and out of the harbor was steady. Under the surface of the water was a huge fish. I could see them swimming back and forth as if they were waiting to be fed. I ordered the most american thing you could probably get, a cheeseburger and french fries. After eating my lunch I sat on the harbor for a while then continued my walk through the town. During my walk I noticed I approached a restaurant bar that grabbed my attention for some reason. It was called Sea Breeze and unlike the rest of the restaurants, stores, and bars this one was by its loneliness just outside of the main cluster of businesses. I made my way in the empty bar overlooking the water and sat down. 
A few minutes later I could hear voices behind a closed door. There was a man carrying a clipboard with a phone to his ears.
 Good afternoon, can I help you.
 Yea sure, I just want to order a drink. 
Ok, no problem. Serene ! Serene ! You have someone out here.
 Seconds later a woman appeared from the door holding a box of beer. 
Yes, good afternoon, what can I get for you?
For a second I was at a loss for words. Her presence alone paralyzed my tongue. Unable to speak, I just nodded my head until I snapped out of my daze. 
Umm yes,, good afternoon, sure can I have a glass of water,
Ok, is that it ?
Yes, that’s it for now.
 Ok, well here is a menu for you. Let me know if you want anything else.
Her skin was golden brown and her hair was black, curly and glowing. She was adorned with a few pieces of jewelry. A perfect accessory complimenting her skin tone. After giving me my water she walked back to the room and retrieved a few more boxes. In a few more trips she began restocking the bar with drinks We conversed for a few minutes before I asked for a drink, a glass of whisky to be exact. I don’t normally drink but it’s as if i was hypnotized. I mean I guess thats what a bartender is supposed to do but it felt different. Jokingly I asked, “you wouldn’t happen to be a mami wata, would you ?
She looked at me with a blank stare and began laughing. 
 You haven’t been on the island a whole day and you are already talking about mami wata. Haha who have you been speaking to? 
 The taxi driver mentioned that to me,
 Well what did he tell you about this mami wata. 
Not much, just that some women on the island were mami wata and that I should be aware of them. 
 Haha well that’s all you know. The elders say mami wata are half women and half fish. In the daytime they live on land looking for people to bring back to the water at night. They Are said to be the most beautiful women and have the ability to put men in a trance. They lure men into the water at night where they drown or are never seen again. 
Wow choices, I escape death from gun shots only to be in danger  by the hands of a beautiful woman fish. I think I’ll take my chances with the latter. But, thank you for the fairy tale, I’ll keep that in mind. 
Before I knew it, hours passed and I had more than enough drinks. It was the most drinks I’ve ever had at one time in my life. The sun was down and when I looked at the clock it read 10pm. The restaurant workers were cleaning up and starting to close up shop. What in the world just happened. Where had all the time gone ?!? Everything at that point was confusion. The girl I was speaking to looked at me and said, were closing up now. I walked outside the restaurant onto the street. The road was empty of taxis and most of the restaurants had started to close. I began walking through town retracing my steps. My stomach was growling horribly and I was extremely tired. I thought to myself “ How the fuck, did i let this happen. I really don’t remember drinking that much, how much did i drink? I feel horrible” 
I finally made it to the outskirts of town and saw the direction I needed to walk home. I stood on the side of the road for a few minutes hoping that I would get lucky and maybe my cousin would pass me by or at the very least a taxi cab. In 15 minutes I decided to just walk back to the house. At first the walk was cool untilI started sweating profusely. The roads were dark and the sound of crickets and dogs nearly drowned out my thoughts. I walked until I finally reached the hill that led up to the house. Suddenly a wave hit me and I became even more drunk than I already was. Along with this came stomach pains I could barely fathom. How much did I really drink and did I not eat while I was drinking. There were so many questions that I had no answers to. I stumbled up the hill every few steps before having to lean up against a tree for a break. I took one step before collapsing to the ground. I rolled over on my back and stared up at the sky. It was the first time I’ve seen stars in years. As much as I hated laying in the muddy ditch I knew that I needed to lay there in order to recover. I gained the strength to get up and began my trek back up the hill. There would be a few more falls before I finally made it to the house. Dusty dirty and drunk. Wasn’t quite the experience I imagined for my first 24 hours in my new home. My cousin’s car wasn’t at the house yet so I figured he was still at work. I slipped off my muddy clothes and reached in the pocket for my cell phone. The phone was nowhere to be found. Wow, so I lost my mind and my cell phone, THIS CAN’T BE LIFE RIGHT NOW. 
I stumbled to my bedroom and flopped on the bed, dusty and all. Hours later I woke up as the sun was just starting to rise. I hopped up and threw some clothes on. My head was hurting and my stomach was still in pain. I thought to myself this is going to be a bad hangover. I walked outside and began tracing my steps. Before I knew it, I was back at the restaurant. The black gate surrounding the bar was locked and there was no Sea Breeze sign but rather a poster that read for Sale by owner. For Sale ? I was just here last night, ain’t no way. I was too ill to figure it out so I walked back to the outskirts of town and caught a taxi home. On the ride back home my headache became more severe and my stomach pain was excruciating. I probably was in desperate need for food but now I didn’t even have the strength to make me food. I exerted all of my strength walking back into town searching for my cell phone. I laid back in bed and began tossing and turning in agony. The breeze flowing through the window offered a little bit of relief but not enough to ease the pain. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever felt in my life. It was as if whatever I drank started to slowly eat out my insides. I grabbed onto my sheets, clinching them and holding the pillow over my face. Suddenly sun rays came through the window and pierced through the pillow onto my face. I turned my head and looked towards the window. At that moment a sharp pain striked me in the stomach and I closed my eyes. 
I blinked once then all of a sudden I was staring at myself. In disbelief I blinked again and I was still looking at myself. As if I was standing over the bed. I could not believe what I was seeing. The craziest part about it, is I was completely conscious of what I was seeing. There I was, looking at my body tossing and turning in agony. I was able to see myself from the outside looking in but I did not feel the physical pain. The more I blinked the more I started to rise above my body and move farther away. The further away I moved the less my physical body started moving. The vision of myself started to become blurry when suddenly I heard a loud knock
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
Aye cuz ! you good in there ? OY!
King  opened the door and my eyes suddenly opened and I felt pain again.
Yo whats up cuz, you good ?
I saw your clothes outside when I got in. I put them to be washed.
Yea. yea everything is good. My stomach is killing me though. Do you have any advils?
No cuz i dont use those things. I have some tea brewing right now. 
Man, I don’t know what happened. One minute I was sitting there having a drink of water and whisky then the next I was laying in a ditch. 
 Hahaha well yea i can see that. You wasted no time getting acquainted with the Mami Watas I see.
Hold on, you know about the mami wata too ??
 Of course, why wouldn’t I be. 
Why didn’t you tell me about them? Do you think that’s what happened to me. ???
When I left yesterday you were knocked out. I figured you would sleep all day but hahaha I also didn’t expect this to happen to you on your first day here. Well you must be lucky because you actually survived. Word of advice cuz, don’t get too caught up in looks. Looks can be deceiving.. A pretty face can kill you.
Too late cuz, I may have already died.
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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years
Text
His Girl Tuesday {Part 1}
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Tuesday Adams x  Billy Hargrove
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[Prologue] [Series Masterlist] [Main masterlist] [AO3]
Series Warnings: This series will contain NSFW, Language, Drug use, horror themes, potentially gore and the occasional racist depictions (because it’s the 80′s people)
Words: 3k
Part One: Infectuous
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The plastic bottle pressed between Tuesday's palms shook slightly. The trapped water inside, sloshing against the flimsy material that was pressed inwards -deforming with rounded indentations on contact with her fingers.
Tuesday felt numb to everything. The rapid pounding of her heart beneath her breast reduced to nothing more than a distant thrumming of white noise. The shake in her limbs transformed into a tingle of discomfort that refused to subside. But most notable of all was the outward silence.
There she sat, in a crowded, bustling mall. A dizzying panorama of people laughing, talking, arguing, chewing, stomping, and yet, everything was so distant. It was as though someone had turned the dial on her piece of junk television set and now static was the only thing blaring through the dust-covered speakers. Leaving only one voice to speak up inside her cranium. One confounded voice.
She needed to find her way out of this maze, she needed to return to the now.
"One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi..." she counted idly by within the safety of her private thoughts. Savouring that one truth that still held true. Unless…
Tuesday pried her eyes away from the air bubbles trickling to the surface of the water bottle, placing her attentions on the group of kids across from them in the arcade, "She can't read minds can she?" 
Steve drummed his fingers on his thighs, lips pursed in a half show of amusement and concern, "No," he replied. "At least, if she can, she hasn't told me about it. I don't typically ask too many questions. It makes it easier to hold onto my marbles."
Feeling redundant, Tuesday rotated the lid until it popped off and rolled away, devouring the contents of the plastic bottle as if she'd been tittering on the precipice of unquenchable thirst. It hadn’t helped. The liquid, though refreshing, didn’t freeze up her mind. She yearned for her action potentials to stop racing across her wired synapses so she could stop hearing the singular overlapping sound of her own voice inside her head. The voice kept multiplying into a cacophony, overlapping over itself again and again.
Steve ignored the meandering rivulet of water making its way from her mouth to the space between her breasts –moving awkwardly in his seat.
Tuesday wiped the cool liquid from her chin and the underside of her jaw using the side of her shirt -overalls half peeled off at the waist.
This was turning into the kind of day where Billy's proximity was sorely missed. His dominant nature made him an overwhelming persona to be around. It was demanding and dark, a crack in the universe that led to a solitary grotto away from everything.
Some days Tuesday felt as if she was viewing her entire life through neon coloured glasses accompanied by that electric hum that was always present, even in the dark recesses of her mind. Billy was her sedative. He kept her in a state of euphoria, an enticing escape from her woes.
There were two things that sent her over the edge, into that euphoric bliss she craved. One of them was Billy. The other was the smell of his cigarettes. Lucky Strike was his go-to brand, he always had a burning fag in his mouth at one time or another. It's bitter and oaky scents mixed into a heady blend when it diffused together with his musky aftershave. It was an intoxicating mix. A cheap odour that she'd grown accustomed to. And now she found herself scanning the crowd for puffs of smoke, looking desperately for that distinguishable red dot on a filmy white packet.
"Look, I don't mean to be pushy but..." Steve leaned closer. "What are you planning on telling your boss? About the freak accident you narrowly avoided? Heck, what are you planning on telling anyone, period?"
She almost didn't hear him, his gentle nature was a rarity to her, it didn’t demand to be seen, instead, it whispered. "Do you have a smoke?" she asked, her nails scratching at the mystery bruise on her arm.
Steve's eyes skittered about before he said, "Uhhh, n-no. I'm trying to lay off."
She hissed as she scratched at her scalp, ankles springing with pent up energy underneath the table. "Shit."
"Listen, I know all this can be overwhelming, believe me. But you have to promise to keep this a secret. She may have superpowers but she's just a kid, and all she wants is to have the same kinda life as any other regular kid," there was compassion in his words. The way his tone fluctuated from a serious whisper to a soft muttering informed Tuesday that Steve actually cared for those kids.
She wanted to listen, wanted to be wholly attentive, but she just kept searching for a white stream of cigarette smoke. Her mind drifted away again as he continued his plea: "And it's not just her life that would be affected either. I mean, Dustin, Mike, Will, Max, they're great kids and--"
"Wait, Max?" she careened her head. "As in Hargrove?"
"Y-yeah. You know her?"
"In passing. Why isn’t she here?"
"Sick with the flue apparently."
Tuesday's mouth stayed agape until she caught sight of a man with a moustache sucking in the air through the cotton filter of a cigarette bud by a clothing store. "Excuse me a minute."
She dashed from the table with a near-jog. Butting into the strange man's conversation to ask if she could bum a smoke. When she returned, she had a fully lit cigarette strategically placed under her nostrils so she could be bombarded by the smell. It wasn't Lucky Star, but it was a close alternative.
After a satisfied inhale, she turned to Steve, fully present this time.
"Well?" He pressed after she spent a whole minute just staring blankly at his face.
"Well what?"
"What are you going to tell your boss really happened?"
"Jack?"
He was confused by that, "I guess.”
She looked back at the kids all hovered around a Mrs Pac-Man arcade game. "People survive near-death experiences in inexplicable and miraculous ways all the time. Perhaps my guardian angel finally awoke from its slumber. Maybe it was divine providence. Though sometimes it's best to leave things unexplained."
Steve nodded a thank you in gratitude, stress leaving his face with a deep exhale. "Thank you, Wednesday."
"Tuesday," she corrected like it was second nature. "Wednesday Adams was the nickname Tommy H. and Carol gave me in high school."
"Oh," regret was present in his eyes.
"Ingenious, I know," she chortled sarcastically. "Don't sweat it. We were all a little screwed up in high-school. It's no one’s fault I was a little weird too."
She noticed him push back his hair, an old habit she would have swooned over had they been sitting at the same table two years ago -before Billy.
“Doesn’t make it alright,” he said.
“C’est la vie.”
He fidgeted, "I always wondered…" he trailed off, unsure if he should be treading over these particular eggshells.
Tuesday recognised that look. "If my name is somehow a rip off of a popular 60's television show?" she finished his unspoken question for him.
He nodded.
"No," she blew the miniature logs of ash off the table. "At least, I don't think so. My dad says I found my way to him on a Tuesday morning. He was never one for television. I guess it was just another stroke of divine providence is all." she joked flatly before standing from the table. "I'm beat and I feel gross. I'm gonna head out. And don't worry. I'll keep your secret."
 Tuesday didn't have the energy to towel dry her long hair, the wetness of it made it look blacker than coal. Her head fell back onto her thinly stuffed pillow, the landing much harder than she intended. She could feel the moisture seep into the cotton pillowcase, but she was content with ignoring the coldness at her back so long as sleep came quick. And it did. She went out like a light.
***
Eyes filled with terror. A stench of copper and urine turning the air humid. Fear clung around opened sweat glands. A nauseating feeling upturning stomachs as Tuesday's vision was impaired by the spin of vertigo.
The unfamiliar room was a striking show of gestating entropy; shadows born from pale, sickly, yellow lights; dust covering every crack and crevice; the smell of gasoline and burning rubber ghosting off a rusted metal drum placed next to tattered and torn couches. This was a den. A derelict place of rest. And someone had claimed it as their own.
The lord of this domain sat on a leather chair, the whites of his eyes and the stained yellows of his teeth were the only thing visible about him. Tuesday stood under a circle of light that flickered out of beat.
"Who are you?" her voice came out distorted, a ringing echo that morphed into the voices of others –those she had heard whispered to her during the day.
He shifted closer to the light. No. It was more like the darkness had peeled itself back, like a cloud he could control hovering around his body. Even with the dark cloud pulled back, he was still enveloped in blackness. It was slick, wet. Like his body was drenched in tar.
That's when Tuesday realised that here, in this wretched place, he was darkness. From his aura, to the veins around his aqueous humors and the chipped off nail polish on his bitten down fingernails. He was void and Tuesday had unknowingly trespassed into his domain.
She was unwelcome here. The weathered concrete walls leaked of despair. Seeping out like a pustulous boil. It made her want to retch. But there was something else too. Something primordial and infectious rolling off his menacing presence. It snaked its way to her through the soles of her bare feet, veins turning black the higher up it climbed.
Tuesday was petrified in fear as this unwelcome sensation burned at her toes and her ankles and her knees and her stomach until finally, it blocked out all the light in her eyes. She looked down at a materialising pool of oil and what she saw made her scream –only no sound came out of her. Her eyes, they were gone, replaced only by orbs of blackness. She was like him now.
His body turned to air and mistified off the couch, materialising a second later behind her, the stench of stale beer and cigarettes trickling off his pierced tongue. "It feels good, doesn't it? Rage."
She swallowed but her throat remained parched.
"Do you know why you came to me? Why it was so easy for me to worm my way into your pretty little brain?" He dug a fingernail into her temple, the pulsating vein turning dark, spreading like a stain. "Someone tried to hurt you and you can't let such an injustice go unpunished. You can’t bear it for a moment longer."
He appeared a mere inch from her nose now, his eyelids carrying the same epicanthic fold as hers. "Are you going to lie down and take it, like some weak, powerless, frightened little girl who's too afraid to leave her pathetic life behind? Or are you going to give in and do the one thing you've been thinking about since that car nearly crushed you?"
His words were a cajole to join him in his darkness. A temptation to embrace her baser instincts. An awakening of a vehement desire. A violent urge.
Now she was grinning, as he was grinning, their faces mirrors of each other.
"Atta girl," he praised before turning into mist and tunnelling down to her chakras through her nasal cavity and throat. And then she was burning, a fire burning through her flesh.
She was infected now.
***
Tuesday's eyes flashed open, but her body remained relaxed. It was noon, the sun still high up. She washed her face, noticing a dark purple outline encircling her eyelids. Then she grabbed her car keys off the hook, dropping the note that that was stuck onto the pinboard, stepping on it with her dusty boots. It went unread.
 The sputtering sounds of her engine vibrated through the entire car. Tuesday set in in park, but kept the motor running. Sam and his brothers were welding off car door hinges, stripping it for parts. The red flashing signpost of their establishment blinked in the back, several bulbs blown: Carson Bros Metal Works and Junkyard.
One of Sam's brother's noticed her arrival, peeling back his welding helmet, "Yo, Sammy, we got a visitor."
Sam Carson was not the most refined specimen Hawkins had to offer, and that was about all Tuesday cared to noticed of him. His entire body stunk of sweat and burning, the tell-tale signs of leading a life that relied on scraping by. The smell stuck to him like flies over rot. All his foul persona was missing was that constant buzz that accompanied large house flies.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the beguiling Tuesday Adams," he snorted with a pinch of his nose.
Tuesday bit down on her teeth until they sent trembles up to her cochlear nerve. "Can you even spell beguiling?"
"Yeah," he leered, thumbs in his back pocket. "I believe it goes: B-E-Blow me!" He mocked.
Tuesday narrowed her eyes and he bent his pelvis so he could look at her at the same level.
"Can you even see when you squint like that?" his brothers let out huffs of amused noises and Tuesday balled up her fists. He noticed her fingers strain under her shaking fist and he held up his hands as though he were innocent of whatever feelings of antagonism she held towards him. "Oh, hey now. Don't get your knickers in a twist. We're just making light." He propped his frame on top of a newly salvaged JTO. "What brings you to my place of business?"
"Jack brought over the car-jack yesterday, he said you told him you fixed it." It was a statement, but it implied something else.
"Jack? I don't know no Jack. You must have your wires crossed honey," he leaned further back with a smug smile on his heat blistered lips.
"Your botched up job nearly cost me my life," she was seething now. "I nearly got crushed!"
"Yeah, well," he pulled out a cigarette from his breast pocket, lighting it with a match. "I can't be held liable for any accidents that happen at other people’s businesses. It's not my fault your boss is a negligent cook. You get what you pay for, and he’s the one who wanted to play hardball. Take up your grievances with him."
Tuesday could feel that infectious rage swirl inside her, her breathing rising and rising the same time her knuckles turned white. She didn't come here to talk. In that moment, she knew exactly why she came here.
In a flash, her hand swung back as she planted her feet and powered her right hook into the unsuspecting Sam's cheek, his cigarette spitting out on contact. Her form was off, sacrificing technique for power and as a result, a cracking sound came off her proximal phalanges.
Sam was sent reeling into the dust, his brothers scattering to come to his aid and gang up on the very riled up Tuesday.
"You bitch!" He sucked on his split lip. "Are you fucking insane?"
He picked himself off the ground and in an instant of red, he struck Tuesday with a heavy open palm. She landed on the hood of the car, trading places with Sam, a gasp of air knocked out of her lungs. She massaged her jaw muscles and spun around to promptly kick him in the crotch. Her fists pressed to her cheeks.
Sam groaned, buckling to the floor again. One of his brothers rushed at her but was deterred from his path by a threatening Trans-Am almost ramming into him.
Billy got out of the car with flaring nostrils and a baseball bat.
"Get the fuck back," he growled as he strode over to her side. The bat pointed at each of the men lick a swinging pendulum. "Tuesday, get in the car."
She didn't listen to him, in fact, her focus was fixed solely on Sam. She made a motion to advance, to trade another blow and this time Billy snaked his arm around her waist and heaved her off the ground. Tuesday was dragged, kicking and screaming, into Billy's car. Face turning beat red from anger.
Billy walked back up to Sam after he locked Tuesday inside, he walked with his usual slow, swaggerful gait. He appeared to be extending a white flag when, without warning, his bat abruptly crashed onto Sam's knee, making him howl in pain.
Billy pulled him by the collar and threatened him, "The next time you lay hands on someone, you better pray it's someone I don't know." He pushed him back into the dirt and taunted his brothers, arms wide open. "Anyone else?"
They all took an instinctive step back when Billy motioned to step forward. He spat at the ground before climbing into his car and speeding Tuesday home.
 "The fuck were you thinking?" his voice was harsh as he grabbed a packet of frozen peas from the fridge.
Tuesday stared at her reflection in the television screen, the voice from her dream returning to taunt her: "Someone tried to hurt you and you can't let such an injustice go unpunished."
The cold press of peas to her face brought her back. She looked into Billy's eyes, so filled with anger and worry. Her right arm stiff from the tight bandage Billy had wound around her undoubtedly fractured hand.
"I- I don't know what came over me..."
He sighed, placing his forehead to her knee. "Something could have happened."
Tuesday was reminded of the harrowing image of the car hurtling towards her small frame, "Something nearly did."
“How did you learn to fight like that?”
“I was raised by a single dad…”
Billy didn't move and for a while, neither did she. They just sat there, stewing in their unpleasant emotions until they proverbially pruned.
Her eyes caught sight of the note that had been stamped with a dusty boot print, "Hey Champ. Won't be home for dinner. Don't wait up. Taking a double tonight. Love dad!"
Her chin quivered, barely. "How did you find me?"
Billy sat up, removing the bag of peas that turned soft. "I went over to the garage. Jack told me what happened. When no one answered the door I figured, if you were anything like me, you'd be itching for payback. I got lucky." He turned her head to examine the red palm mark. "It won't bruise."
Tuesday noticed he sported a new bruise beneath his shirt, she trailed a finger over it and he shivered, biting down hard. "How'd you get this?"
"Does it matter?"
"It does to me."
Billy held her gaze, and now she was reminded of their proximity. Of the cheap aftershave and cigarette smell that turned her limp. She pulled him close, savouring the feel of sedation. And then her lips found the sensitive stop of flesh behind his ear and he groaned, fingers digging into her back.
Without a word or look or a warning, Billy pulled her off the couch and carried her towards the bedroom where he proceeded to fuck her against her old, creaking dresser -the wood groaning and legs lifting from his fevered intensity. Their kisses all tongue and teeth and with no propriety -it was a primal instinct fuelled by heat and savagery. When he flipped her over and backed her into a wall, legs locked around his waist while he increased the power of his strokes, he noticed her hand had been kept over the bruise she had seen earlier. Her unintelligible whimpers fuelling him to go even deeper -harder. When he came, he had pulled out just in time. They leaned against the wall, ragged breathing, raspy voices and aching limbs. He watched his cum slide down the length of her inner thigh, waiting for it to reach the dip in her knee before he let her drag him to the bathroom.
That night, as he held her in his arms, he couldn't help but notice that the purple-bluish marks had almost faded into the yellowish-brown of a nearly healed bruise. Billy ignored the strangeness behind the colour change and focused on smoothing the raw skin of her cheek as she let out small breaths through lips agape.
***
Tuesday was drawn back into the dreamscape from before, but this time it wasn't drowning in darkness. The red and orange hues of the sunset covered the room in orange paint. The man from before looked less animalistic and spectral. He resembled a simple human now.
He held a bloody bat over his shoulder, the plasma smearing onto his wrist as he craned his neck to the side and side-stepped so she could see the fruits of his depraved labours. On the ground, a man in a security guard uniform lay barely breathing, incisors surrounded by splotches of blood around his face, no longer rooted in his mouth.
The nightmare-man turned to her, and with a mockingly high pitched tone, he screeched like a deranged parrot, "What are you? Some kind of ffrrreeeeeaaaaakkk?!"
His yellow teeth in full view through thinly pried lips.
And then she was forced awake.
***
Tuesday grumbled when she was conscious again, an epiphany dawning over her now that she was sober and in full possession of her bearings.
“Damn it,” she cursed as she realised she had left her car at the Carson’s Junkyard.
To be continued...
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