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kopikokun · 4 years

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Beach Day Blues༄ l.dh

↳ Out on a day trip to the beach with your boyfriend and his friends, you’re anticipating a fun time filled with sunny memories and sand filled swimsuits. What you’re not expecting is the cold shoulder from your usually happy-go-lucky boyfriend, but you’re going to get to the root of this issue, even if it’ll kill you.

pairing: lee donghyuck x reader ft. yuta, mark & jaehyun

content: fluff, beach day, reverse comfort fic, jealousy fic, very mildly suggestive ending

word count: 2053 words

Request 36: Haechan + “I need a hug.” (42) + “You’re cute when you’re angry.” (47) + “You own my heart.” (59) + Jealousy

← BACK TO NAVI.

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

Perhaps you’re being delusional. Perhaps you’re just dehydrated or, maybe, you rationalise, the scalding rays of the evening Sun have burned not only your skin but your brain cells too (if there were any to begin with). Maybe all of this is just in your head and you’re overthinking it.

“Hey,” someone hisses, “is it just me or is Donghyuck giving you the cold shoulder?”

At the question, or rather observation, your head swivels an almost sharp 90 degrees to stare Yuta straight in the eyes. “So, it wasn’t just me thinking that!”

Yuta chuckles. “Yeah, he definitely seems off…” He peers at Donghyuck discreetly from beneath his sunglasses before turning back towards you. “Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

“A fight? No way!” You pause, suddenly doubting yourself. “At least, I don’t think so…”

Though you’re confident in your verdict of innocence regarding a fight, Yuta’s question prompts you to briefly run through the events of the day. To preface things, you, your boyfriend, Donghyuck, and a few of your friends—namely, Yuta, Jaehyun and Mark—had decided around half a month ago to clear up one day in advance for a ‘beach day’ this week. The idea had sprung after someone had brought up how nice and sunny the weather had been lately, and everyone just unanimously came to the conclusion that sunny weather equals beach day.

You had begun packing for this trip a few days ahead to the surprise of everyone including yourself, which is a testament to your overwhelming excitement, because you rarely--if ever--pack that early for just a single day trip. But who can blame you? This would be your first official trip with Donghyuck. No, you should rephrase that. This would be your first official trip with Donghyuck as your boyfriend. You’ve been on plenty of trips before when you two were just ‘friends’, but now--and maybe this is the romanticist in you which you’ve successfully kept stored away up until recently speaking--it just feels different. You’re sure someone out there can relate, because you’ve never been one to obsess over something as feeble as a label, yet this trip has had your stomach in knots for ages.

The packing process had gone smoothly--neither you nor Donghyuck had forgotten anything--and so had the car ride over. As far as you can recall, your day at the beach so far has gone without a hitch too. You’d had a little picnic, dipped in the oddly warm sea, played some beach volleyball (badly) and gotten some icecream afterward. No fights, no issues, no nothing.

Maybe, you think, he found out I was involved in that little switch up with the sea water. You don’t entertain the idea for too long though immediately casting it away, because you know Donghyuck would never be the type to get so upset over a prank.

So, why the attitude?

You gaze at Donghyuck’s back, hoping that this mystery might just unravel itself if you stare long enough.

“Huh…” Yuta’s voice tears you from your zealous staring competition with Donghyuck’s shoulders. “Then I wonder what’s up…”

You sigh. You know you should confront him and have a mature conversation about what’s bothering him, but that’s so much easier said than done. Maybe this is God’s way of punishing you for ridiculing all those scenes in cheesy teen flicks where the couple would experience a major fall-out because of poor communication. During said scenes, you’d be pulling your hair out, internally screaming at the couple to just freaking talk already, yet now that you’ve been presented this obstacle for you to overcome yourself, you’re erring on the side of caution.

Come on, you reason, I’ve been friends with Donghyuck for over half-a-decade and we’ve gotten into our fair share of arguments during those five years. What’s so different about now?

Yeah, you’re right. You find yourself agreeing with your own thoughts, physically nodding along like you’re speaking to someone. Yuta raises a concerned eyebrow at you. Nothing’s different compared to then. You’re doing it again. He’s just my boyfriend, and that’s just a label. Stop. Obsessing. Over. Labels.

Admittedly, it’s a bit embarrassing having to psyche yourself up to do this, but that’s not what’s important right now. What’s important is that little pep-talk, no matter how laughable it sounded, has gotten you to stand and saunter to Donghyuck with utmost confidence. In hindsight, you should’ve said something to Yuta beforehand instead of just springing from your seat and marching away. The thought hadn’t crossed your mind though, as it was obviously preoccupied with something arguably much more important than giving him the luxury of context.

You decide not to be too transparent about your feelings at first as you take a seat beside Donghyuck on the sand, leaning your head on his shoulder, hoping that all of this was really just your imagination getting the best of you. You silently plead that he’ll perhaps treat you like he normally would, giving you a little peck on the cheek or at least wrapping his arm around your waist. Unfortunately, your hopes are smothered just as quickly as they arise because Donghyuck doesn’t even bat an eye at you, continuing to chat with Jaehyun and flat-out ignoring your presence. Still optimistic for a reaction, you leave a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder, just to let him know that “Hey, I’m here!”, but to no avail. Infuriatingly, he doesn’t even flinch. All he does is drone on to Jaehyun about something you couldn’t care less about.

You huff. Audibly. A last ditch effort in vying for Donghyuck’s attention. It goes just as well as your previous attempts. You cross your arms, glaring at the side of Donghyuck’s stubborn little head, hoping to bore a deep hole through his brain. Maybe then he’ll finally take notice of you. Sensing the undeniable tensity in the air, Jaehyun clears his throat awkwardly, offering Donghyuck some lame excuse about needing to take a piss, before shuffling away. Well, at least someone knows how to take a hint.

With Jaehyun’s departure, you’re left alone with Donghyuck. Usually, he’d be leaping to drown you in affection the second you two had privacy--or even if you two didn’t, to be frank--but all he does now is fiddle with the strings of his swimming shorts absentmindedly.

“What’s wrong, Hyuck?” you finally ask, desperate to break this frustratingly suffocating silence. “Is something wrong?”

Finally, after what seems like centuries, Donghyuck acknowledges your existence, though the look he gives you is not a pleasant one. In fact, it’s one of agitation. His tongue prods at his inner cheek before he says, tone bitter, “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

Evidently taken aback, you crease your eyebrows at him. “I… Did I do something wrong, babe?”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs, scornful amusement overtaking his normally amiable features. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know. You can just come out and say it.”

“Say what, Hyuck?”

“How much more you’re into Mark than into me,” Donghyuck says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You can’t help but laugh, simply bewildered as to how on Earth he came to this conclusion. “I’m into who now?”

“Mark,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “don’t have to pretend like you’re surprised.”

“I’m not into--” you sigh, a smile of disbelief tugging at your lips. “Okay, tell me why you think I’m into Mark.”

“I don’t think. I know,” Donghyuck argues and you scoff, “but it’s obvious. And I have proof. Take when we were playing volleyball for instance. The whole time, you kept eyeing Mark up and laughing at his jokes. All of them. Even the weird ones that nobody gets.”

You snort. “Baby… I wasn’t ‘eyeing Mark up’, I was watching him just in case he missed the ball. And about the joke thing, to his credit, some of them were actually pretty funny! But, as for the the rest--and don’t tell Mark I said this--I felt kinda bad nobody else laughed at them, so I just laughed along with him. Trust me, I’ve been in his shoes before and it sucks. Not all of us are born as naturally as funny as you, Hyuck.” You’re a little remorseful that you’re essentially dissing Mark, but you’re sure he’d understand. Your relationship’s on the line here.

Donghyuck harrumphs, but you can tell by the slight quirk of his lip that he’s a little tickled by you poking fun at Mark and he’s totally been swayed by your compliment.

“Okay, fine that explains that, but how about when we went swimming just now? Why did you and Mark keep exchanging funny looks?”

“That?” You giggle. “You know how your drink was mysteriously replaced by seawater?”

“Yeah,” he trails off, his suspicion growing by the second.

“Who do you think that was?”

Donghyuck groans. “Wait, that was you? Seriously? That was mean, babe.”

“Aww, I know, Hyuck. I’m sorry,” you coo. Your hand inches its way closer to his as you attempt to intertwine your fingers together.

Donghyuck rejects your endeavour of fondness. “Nu-uh, no way. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Oh my God, Hyuck, there’s more?” you complain, though there’s a tint of amusement in your voice.

“Yes, there’s more, and you won’t be able to worm your way out of this one either,” he says smugly, as if it’d be a good thing if you in fact, couldn’t worm your way out of his next accusation. “How about when we went to get ice cream and you kept sliding up next to him?”

You pout. “I just wanted to try the watermelon popsicle he got.”

Donghyuck blinks at you, his once irritated expression dissolving. He seems dumbfounded as you hold his gaze, your mirthful smile never faltering. He turns away from you. “Oh, well… then whatever. I guess you aren’t into Mark.”

“Hyuck,” you say, hand crawling up his arm, “were you jealous?”

“Well, yeah, obviously,” he deadpans, still refusing to meet your gaze.

You giggle. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

His cold facade is immediately abandoned at your teasing intonation, and just like that, your cheery Hyuck is back. “Baby,” he whines, readjusting himself so he’s facing you head-on, “don’t tease me. I couldn’t help but be jealous, you know?”

“And why is that?”

Donghyuck purses his lips. “Why? What do you mean why?” He gestures up and down, eyes sweeping over you. “Look how pretty you are! What am I supposed to do when you look this good all the time? It’s unfair, really, that you’re this pretty.”

A blistering heat, one that is much hotter than the Sun, gathers in your cheeks. “Oh really now, Hyuck?”

“Yes, really,” he says, genuity seeping into his every word. “Literally, everyday I’m surprised you’re even real.” You grin bashfully and Donghyuck pounds his fist to his chest dramatically like he’s been shot. “See! You’re only smiling and I’m already having heart palpitations at just twenty years old.”

“Okay, okay, Hyuck. You can stop hyping me up now,” you chuckle. You’re beyond glad that your boyfriend has returned to his spirited self, but you know you should address what just happened seriously, just in case. “But hey, I’m sorry that I made you feel that way. Looking back, it definitely could’ve been misinterpreted as flirting and I would never want you to have any reason to feel insecure about our relationship because you own my heart, Hyuck.”

“Aw, babe, you can be really cheesy when you want to be,” says Donghyuck, pinching your cheeks. He plays what you said off casually, but you know that deep down, it resonates with him, and he honestly appreciates your sincerity. “Come here, I need a hug.”

“Right now? There are people around, Hyuck.”

“But you look so good right now. I can’t resist.”

“I don’t know, Hyuck…” You smile demurely.

“Alright, then what about,” Donghyuck reaches to tuck your hair behind your ear, whispering, “we ditch the beach day and go cuddle in the car? My skin’s burning, anyway.”

You grin. “They’re gonna notice that we went missing, you know?”

“So?” Donghyuck challenges, leaning in to place a short but telling kiss on the juncture which connects your ear and your jaw. “Even better. I want them to know.”

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 3 years

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The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 09

<= Chapter 8

Summary : Lukas gets to have a conversation with a friend.

Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/81432325

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Heehooo, new chapter ! I hope you'll like it !

Thank you again for all your comments, likes and reblogs. You're always making my day !

I get to see them when I wake up and let me tell you, this is the best thing I could get before going to work. Thank you so much.

This fanfic also makes me realize I'm not as bad at writing slice of life stuff as I first thought- Huh, good to know.

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Chapter 8 - “Was… Was he always like this?”

It was such a strange feeling for Lukas… Having won that duel when he had been so convinced he had no chance to begin with. He had been prepared so much to be downgraded to being a stagehand again that he had never truly considered what he’d do if he ever beat MJ.

So… He was an actor, now? The realization seemed surreal, like he was just imagining things… And yet, here he was, sitting in the staff break room, staring into space. His body was there, but his mind was somewhere else, lost in thoughts and unable to focus on the current situation. Even when other stagehands had come to congratulate him, telling him they were happy he put the diva in his place… He replied, saying thanks and every variant of it, without really being there at all.

In hindsight, the fact he had won wasn’t the reason he was feeling like this- it was that it had been so easy. Just like DJ Grooves had said, it was… A switch to flip. Sure, it required him to put his anxiety aside- but on this particular occasion, the anger he had felt towards MJ had been a way to temporarily shift his… Priorities, in some ways.

What the investor had said regarding the show had created quite the mess in the crew. While the Conductor and DJ Grooves had joined him for a private meeting regarding the scenario, most of the stagehands seemed lost. Lukas couldn’t blame them- with how the project had been questioned, it was hard to know whether to continue their job or wait for new instructions. A lot of them were exchanging thoughts about the whole thing: how they had been lucky most of the search of actors hadn’t officially started, how they were worried about a lot of their work going to waste… It was all understandable.

To think he might have been with them, perplexed about the same things… Apparently, fate had decided something else for him.

His attention was caught by the sound of a door opening, and he lifted his head. He didn’t know how much time had passed since the directors had started their meeting or how long he had been sitting in there… But he was pretty sure it had been at least a good hour. And so, when the student recognized Mike through the door frame, a feeling of confusion settled over him. Wait, didn’t he go to comfort his asshole of a twin…?

When the two young men’s eyes met, the puppet maker’s expression lightened up slightly. It didn’t take long for Lukas to understand his friend had been looking for him. Thus, he wasn’t surprised when he saw the other approaching him, before sitting next to him at the table.

-“Hey,” Mike greeted him, his voice clearly showing things hadn’t gone so well with MJ.

-“Hey,” he answered back, his expression turning concerned: “You alright?” he asked. He didn’t want to ask about the actor unless his friend actually wanted to talk about it- contrary to some people, he had been raised with manners and tact.

Said friend put his elbows on the table, leaning in as he rubbed his face:

-“I wish I could say yes, but I’m not,” he replied honestly. His mismatched eyes glanced at him, a sigh leaving his lips: “It’s not because of you,” he assured, probably not wanting Lukas to feel guilty. Well, too bad, he kinda did, with how upset Mike seemed to be.

-“Do you… Want to talk about it?” he offered, wanting nothing but to help his friend to feel better.

At his question, the puppet-maker remained silent, as if he were hesitating. Lukas waited patiently- he knew that if Mike needed to open his heart, then he would, but if he didn’t want to, then… It simply meant he wasn’t ready to, which was fine. The law student wasn’t going to force him. Eventually, though, Mike sighed again, moving his hands back to the table as he answered:

-“Morg- MJ, I mean, he’s not… He’s not a bad person,” his voice was faltering and he had to rub his eyes to hold back his tears: “I know he’s not easy to deal with, but… But he’s a nice person once you get to know him.”

“How much do you need to dig to find that ”nice person“, deep down?” Lukas thought to himself with sarcasm, but he did everything he could to keep those words to himself. Mike being related to that diva, the former most likely wasn’t objective- hell, Lukas’ relatives certainly weren’t perfect, but he still loved them nonetheless.

-“I’m sure he is,” he lied, his tone kind and comforting. With how Mike was dealing with everything, it wasn’t hard to guess some things had been said between the twins, and that it probably wasn’t the first time nor the last. Sure, Lukas couldn’t stand that guy, and the current situation wasn’t improving that, but he had no right to judge Mike for loving his brother. Still, what a great relationship… Not.

The puppet-maker sniffed and looked away. His eyes were getting red, just like his nose.

-“Sorry for… What he said to you,” Mike added after a minute: “And for… Him trying to punch you.”

-“It’s… It’s fine,” the student assured him, even if it wasn’t. Still, his friend didn’t need to hear that right now. Apparently, the other instantly noticed Lukas had just lied, as a weak scoff left his mouth, an insincere smile taking place onto his lips.

-“It’s not, you can say it,” he admitted with a shrug: “You wouldn’t be the first one to tell me that, anyway.”

Lukas turned his head, caught red-handed. Well, at least he had tried, he supposed… It was obvious Mike had gone through unpleasant conversations about his brother’s behavior- lying about everything being fine most likely wasn’t a good thing to do in those circumstances. The puppet-maker wasn’t stupid, after all.

-“Was… Was he always like this?” the young man dared to ask, slowly turning back to his friend, hoping this wouldn’t offend him. But it didn’t- on the contrary, Mike imitated him, facing him again. His expression showed sadness, pain, but also… Inner conflict.

-“… No, he wasn’t,” he shook his head, taking a deep breath as he tried to repress other, new tears: “A lot of stuff happened when we were kids, and… That left a mark. He’s never been the same since then.”

-“Do you… wanna talk about that?” the student asked, hinting at whatever trauma MJ had gone through. However, his friend frowned:

-“No. No, I don’t- I can’t,” he breathed out, leaning back against his chair: “Look, I’m… Not supposed to talk about that. It’s very… Personal, and I guess it just… Slipped out,” his eyes glanced to Lukas apologetically: “Sorry. I promised not to talk about it again, and he… Really wouldn’t like the fact I told you.”

Lukas tilted his head to the side with a wince- yeah, that was understandable. Still, he couldn’t help but be curious about what Mike was so secretive about. What kind of trauma could justify acting like an asshole to everyone? Sure, one could have gone through a lot of stuff, but that didn’t allow them to be a bitch to their friends and especially not their family! With how hard Mike was trying, it was frustrating to see the diva just… Hurting his own twin because he was frustrated or angry.

-“No, it’s fine- I get it,” he agreed, deciding not to push the topic any further: “You don’t have to tell me. Is he still around?”

-“No,” Mike shook his head, his breathing finally calming down through efforts: “He’s gone back home. I always tell him to when he needs to… Calm down.”

-“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Lukas asked out of politeness. To be completely honest, he couldn’t care less about MJ’s tantrum, but it was obvious his friend needed to speak about it. Comfort was the minimum he could offer for that.

-“I don’t… I don’t know,” the other confessed, rubbing his face again while his eyes stared into space: “It has never been that badbefore. I’m not gonna lie, this kind of thing happens… A lot. But this time, he just… Refused to talk to me. Usually, I can get him to speak his heart a little, you know? Today, he ignored me and drove back home- he didn’t even look at me.”

“What a jerk, what a jerk, what a fucking jerk,” Lukas did his best to keep that thought to himself again. Seriously, how could one act like an entitled brat that much?

-“Why… Uh,” he paused, joining his hands together as he struggled to find the right words to convey what he wanted to say: “Okay, this is going to sound bad no matter what I say, but… If he’s acting like that to you, his own brother, why would you… Keep trying?” At his sentence, Mike looked up, frowning at him- of fuck, he had been too direct, he should have kept his mouth shut: “I-I mean, don’t get me wrong, I understand why! But… You seem really upset, and you said it kept happening, so, you know…”

The student was now rambling, trying really hard to make up for his lack of tact, but eventually, Mike’s frown turned into a weak, genuine smile:

-“Because I love him,” he answered as if it were blatantly obvious: “And I guess… Because I feel guilty too,” he then admitted, looking away with an ashamed expression. Well… That was new. Him, feeling guilty? But what for? After all, Mike was perhaps one of the nicest person he had met! Apparently, his confusion must have been quite visible as the puppet-maker sighed.

-“Listen, I really can’t talk about this, it’s… Like I said, it’s something very personal for MJ. Still, well… MJ and I went through a lot when we were kids, but he had it much worse than I did. Compared to him, my childhood was easy. So… I kinda feel like I owe him my help, now that it’s over, because I couldn’t be there for him years ago. That’s all I can tell you.”

The law student fell silent- yeah, he could get what the other was saying. Still… He couldn’t help but feel like Mike was putting his own feelings to the side, prioritizing MJ’s first. It wasn’t healthy. A simple look at the puppet-maker was enough to see how upset he was!

-“Does he… Know you feel that way?” Lukas dared to ask, a bit hesitant after his previous question.

A soft and sad scoff left Mike’s lips:

-“No. I haven’t told him- but trust me, it’s fine, I’mfine,” he replied, his expression showing more determination: “I want to help him the best I can. I know he doesn’t actually want to hurt me, and that’s all I need.”

It took Lukas a lot of willpower not to retort anything about that, and so he simply nodded. Oh, he wanted to tell Mike he didn’t have to play the role of a punching bag, that he didn’t have to feel guilty about something that had happened when he was literally a child… But it was clear that Mike wasn’t going to change his mind. Plus, it wasn’t like he could have a say in this, he was just a stranger. He had no idea what had happened during the twins’ childhood and… Well, even if he didn’t think any of that would justify MJ’s actions… He still had to give both of them the benefit of the doubt.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but feel like this was really unfair.

-“Thanks,” the other added, visibly glad Lukas hadn’t insisted. He let out a sigh before glancing at his watch, his eyes widening as he quickly stood up: “Crap, my break’s over,” he mumbled, and then spoke louder: “I need to repair some costumes. I’ll, uh, see you soon.”

-“Oh, yeah,” the student nodded awkwardly: “Good luck.”

-“I’ll definitely need some of that…” the puppet-maker sighed again and quickly left the break room, barely looking back. His face had looked so stressed, but Lukas couldn’t blame him: with what had happened with his twin and the fact that his work had gone to waste… Yeah, that seemed to be a lot. Furthermore, Lukas guessed Mike had to postpone the work on the new puppet, considering he had to wait for the new script to be validated. Poor guy wasn’t going to design a new character when no one even knew said character’s personality yet.

The young man let out a sigh, his eyes glancing around: what was he supposed to do, now? He had been promoted, sure, but what could he do if he had to wait for his role to be remade from scratch? Even the other stagehands didn’t know what to do! It sure was a weird situation to be in. Maybe he could lend a hand to whoever needed it? There had to be someone out there needing assistance or something…

After taking a deep breath, Lukas stood up and left the break room. His legs led him through the different part of the studio, hoping to find something to do. At some point, he passed in front of a door, where loud voices could be heard through it- the Conductor’s, Grooves’ and the investor’s. Well, seemed like it was the meeting room, which was probably the last place Lukas wanted to be right now. It didn’t sound like they were arguing, no, it sounded more like an intense discussion. He couldn’t understand anything, as the voices were muffled, though it was enough for him to quicken his pace.

He then found a group of stagehands ready to put the props and backgrounds for the Moonjumper’s home back in a closet, never to be seen again. There were a lot of stuff and so, naturally, the young man decided to help them. The stagehands he joined were touched by the attention and thanked him for it. Once they were done, they offered Lukas to tag along for other tasks, and he happily accepted. Not like he had anything else to do anyway and, well, it was always a good thing to be close to the crew.

Hah, helping the stagehands… Not something MJ would do, huh?

In any case, the hours passed and most of the work was done by the evening, when it was time to leave. After saying goodbye to his co-workers and making a quick stop to Mike’s workshop for the same reason, the young man took the last bus of the day and headed home. What a day this had been… Lukas’ mind was unable to think anymore- how could he, after everything that had happened in only a few hours? His shift had been… Wild, to say the least.

Once he got home, the first thing he did was to let himself fall on his couch. Were all of his shifts going to be so exhausting…? He sighed in one of the cushions, already feeling tired enough to fall asleep- nope, he still needed to eat and do his homework. Doing the latter after such a day of work sounded terrible, though he didn’t have a lot of choice, as he didn’t want to procrastinate. Plus, thankfully, law was something he was interested in, so at least it wasn’t boring, just… Time-consuming.

After the previous night, he really, reallyneeded to sleep a good amount of hours. With that new, motivating goal in mind, the young man hurried up to put a quick meal in the microwave. As he ate, he started his homework in the meantime, his tired brain doing his best to produce a good essay. Thankfully, it was a short one, allowing him to go to sleep earlier than what he had first thought. And so… He went to bed, his head full of memories from today. He wondered what the next day would have in store for him…

It actually took two weeks for the studio to get a new, validated version of the script. In the meantime, Lukas kept helping the other stagehands the best he could. He visited Mike in his workshop during his breaks, trying to see if his friend was feeling better. It took a few days but soon enough, they were back at talking about various topics. Visiting Mike also let him have a look at the new character designs the other was preparing, various versions he was planning to show the directors, so they could pick a particular design. All of them were really different from one another.

Lukas didn’t get the opportunity to read the script yet, as the Conductor and DJ Grooves wanted to be sure it was perfect before showing it to the team this time. However, Mike had gotten some information on the new characters and changes, as he had to design them and couldn’t do so without knowing their personality. Thus, the other shared him the secret info he had been given- and so, apparently, the new character was going to be a ghost ruling over a forest or something like that… Mike wasn’t given too much information on the setting itself, but the student still got to learn that this character was going to be charismatic, sadistic, and mischievous. From what the puppet-maker had learned, he told Lukas the directors were most likely inspired by his performance to write this new character.

This was… Really flattering. For days, he had thought they had disliked his improvisation, but it seemed like he was wrong. Learning that made his day- his week, even!

Eventually, the script was finally ready and finished, with the investor’s approval. Lukas received a copy and was told to read his parts for the day after, so he could get familiarized with this new character. He was… Strangely excited to do so, knowing this character was based on him. In the meantime, the crew made another audition announcement, this time featuring all the new characters and removing the ones that were cut.

Lukas didn’t think he would be one of those people but… He actually couldn’t wait to go back to his job!

… Too bad this passion was going to be stained in the near future.

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Oh boy I love ending my chapter ominously huh

=> Chapter 10

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frostedfaves · 4 years

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Taken

Part 2

Pairing: Jake Peralta x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N is kidnapped by a perp whose real objective is her colleague and boyfriend Jake. Will he get to her in time?

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, angst and more angst

There is at least one big moment in every young woman's life that she regrets immensely. Sometimes it's dating a horrible person and realizing far too late. Or maybe it's that outfit that truly belonged in a dumpster but somehow ended up in your closet instead. My biggest regret was being considerate of Jake's sleep.

We went to his place after work for date night because he'd finally found an old movie we were looking for and I didn't have a DVD player. We've been together long enough to love each other and we do, the topic of living together brought up a couple times before we both realized that neither of us are quite ready to give up our separate spaces yet. So we go to Jake's and we watch a movie.

"In hindsight, this probably wasn't the best mood to set on date night," Jake muttered as he turned to me, wiping a few tears from his cheeks.

"Nonsense! I think ugly crying to a great American heartbreaking tale with my boyfriend is completely romantic!" I countered through chuckles to cover up my lingering sobs, causing Jake to laugh with me.

"You're a riot." He helped me clear my cheeks as well before wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I'm exhausted. Wanna call it one? I'm too tired for sexy times but I'm willing to compromise and do hand stuff."

I rolled my eyes playfully at him as I allowed myself to sink into his hold for a moment. "No, I shouldn't stay."

"What? You always stay on date night. Is something wrong?"

"No, no. Everything's fine. The surgery scene just reminded me that I'm supposed to drop my mom off in the morning for a minor procedure before work. My mom's house and the hospital are on the other side of town and if I leave from here, I'll have to wake up like half an hour earlier."

"I don't mind getting up with you, babe."

"Jacob." I pushed myself into a sitting position, my tone falling flat so he knew to take me seriously. "You've been busting your ass for weeks now to catch your perp, and you got the next best thing--his right hand man. You deserve every second of rest you can get."

He stared at me for a while, a slight pout on his lips. "Alright, fine." He sighed heavily as he stood, pulling me to my feet as well.

"You'll see me in the morning, I promise. I love you, Jakey."

"I love you, too. See you tomorrow."

Tomorrow is here and I still haven't seen Jake. The windowless cement block of a room couldn't tell me how long I was unconscious, but the ache in my stiff muscles told me it was well past morning. A range of emotions hit me as my eyes focused on my current reality.

Fear.

I feared where I was, of course I did. I can't check my surroundings if it's all just gray walls, the only difference being the rusty chains that held me to one of them.

I feared not knowing who brought me here, how many there were, the intention behind bringing me here.

I feared time. How much had passed, how much I had left. How much of it I'd spent in such deafening and suffocating silence and what would finally disrupt the still air.

Worry.

I worried about not being the only one stolen from what I deemed to be my normal life.

I worried about the mess of blood that hadn't been cleared away from the side of my head.

I worried about the foggy in-and-out single stream of consciousness that I just barely held onto.

I worried about whether or not my mom made it to her surgery or if she spent the entire day in the police station worrying even more than I was.

The thought caused anger to rush in like an uninvited guest.

What could I have possibly done to end up here? I arrest criminals all day long, but none of them are capable of this. I'd love to rip these chains out of the wall and tightly wrap them around the throat of my captor. The thought alone caused the nausea bubbling up from my stomach to turn into something else, something stronger, something that was destined to get me into more trouble.

"You mind letting me the fuck out of here?!"

Like that. That kind of trouble.

Footsteps echoed from somewhere as they announced the arrival of another person. With the knowledge that someone else was in fact here came the return of worry. Or maybe it was fear. I can't quite tell the distinction over the little voice in my head that scolds me for being the thing to break the quiet.

A piece of the wall opened up and spit out a tall figure drowning in black fabric. From the tip of their worker boots all the way up to the ski mask that hid their identity from me.

"You want something?"

A male voice was all I was able to catch. I stayed quiet and kept my head down, hoping my silence would irritate him into talking more.

"What, you lost your tongue or something?"

I still couldn't tell who it was on voice alone.

"Oh, I get it. You want to do this face to face."

I lifted my head just as he ripped off his ski mask, and I quickly bit my lip to stifle my gasp. I recognized that stupid face. Unfortunately for me, he could tell.

"You know who I am, baby?" His steps were the only sound in the hollow space as he came to kneel in front of me. Before I could even blink, he had my jaw held tightly in his left hand, his right hand pushing the end of a blade into my skin.

"Say my name," he practically growled, sending shivers down my spine. I quickly obliged, well aware that I did not have the upperhand in the situation.

"Marco."

"My whole name," he demanded as he pressed further into my skin, responding to my involuntary whimper with a shake of his left hand. "Say it."

"Marco Fallio."

"Good." He quickly pocketed the knife, keeping his gaze on me. "I can't wait to hear you scream that later. It's gonna be fun." He winked as he stood finally, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as he turned his back on me.

"What am I doing here, Marco?"

"I figured since Detective Peralta took my right hand man, I was free to take his."

"How do you know who I am?"

"I saw you two disgusting lovebirds kiss after stuffing my boy inside the back of a cop car." He faced me again suddenly, pulling out a burner phone as he approached me. "What's his number?" He noticed my hesitation and laughed. "You want him to know I have you, right? Or should I just kill you now and send pieces of you until your boyfriend gets the hint?"

I sighed, closing my eyes as I recited the number to him. I listened to him dial, only opening my eyes again when the ringing stopped.

"Peralta."

It was only one word, but it was enough to break my heart. He sounded so defeated and tired, like the rest I begged him to get did nothing but further exhaust him. The thought brought tears to my eyes instantly.

"Hey Peralta, buddy. Fallio here."

"If you're calling to negotiate your friend out of jail, it's not going to happen. He's going to lead me straight to you."

Fallio laughs in a light way that suggests he was talking to an old friend, and not a detective that wanted him behind bars. "You know, I thought you may say that. So I got something that I think might change your mind."

In a few lightning fast motions, the knife was out again, slicing the fabric of my jeans and the skin of my thigh underneath. A strangled yell crossed the threshold of my lips before I could stop it as the burning sensation pulsated through the newly opened wound.

"Y/N! Marco I swear to God, you better--"

"Yeah, yeah. Talk soon!" He ended the call with a grin, turning his attention back to me. "Don't worry, I'll call him back. Let's have a little fun first."

I want death. I want to die. It seems to be the quickest and possibly the only way to escape Marco Fallio, and at this point, I'll take anything.

Maybe I'll get lucky and survive this, and I'll apply to work for the FBI. With all the cuts and bruises and dried and not so dry blood that now covers so much of my skin, they'll be sure to think I'm tough enough to handle any case.

Or I could quit law enforcement altogether. Become a baker. I'm good at it, and there's less of a chance of this happening again when you're just minding your business and selling fresh food. However, in this baker fantasy I'd still be dating Jake. So this could very well happen again.

Jake. I miss Jake. His name is the only constant thing I remember every time I come back. Every time I open my eyes and remind myself that I'm locked in this room in God knows where for who knows how much time. Jacob Peralta, the only thing I hear in my head as Marco does some other series of painful acts that makes me scream until my throat burns from the force, or until he pushes just a little too far and I pass out again.

"Hey, wake up."

I feel the light but aggressive pats on my face, a long groan pushing from the depths of my lungs and falling out amidst a heavy breath that smacks right into Marco's face immediately. As he has been for the past seconds, days, months, years, he's entirely too close. Which means I'm in for another beating.

His rough hands pull me off my pathetic position on the cool floor and thrust me back first into the wall behind me once again, gripping my jaw to hold my head in place. His thumb forces my bottom lip to part from the top as he begins to carefully pour water into my mouth.

"You're giving me nothing and this is growing old. Time to light some fire under your man's ass."

He pulled the phone out again and talked as I focused on swallowing the water, struggling to keep my eyes open. I felt the phone being pressed to my ear followed by Marco's voice.

"Any last words, Y/N?"

My mind flashed back to the movie Jake and I watched together. The main character's last words were in a suicide note she'd written to her boyfriend. It was a long shot, thinking that Jake would even remember this or that it would help him at all, but as Jake would say, "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take!" So I finished swallowing the water and took the shot.

"I knew about everything. That's why I died."

His hand released my jaw as he hung up again, allowing me to slide to the floor again. I could only hope now that I'd done enough. That by connecting the dots he'd realized that I--like the main character--was dying slowly in a cement room underground at the hands of someone else after being forced to craft last words to the love of my life. He'd already found Marco's three warehouses. A little more digging would tell him that two of the warehouses don't have basements, so I must be at the third.

Time zoomed past again as I floated away into unconsciousness, brought out of it once again by a gentle slap to the face. This one felt softer but more urgent. Then came voices, all of them fuzzy except for one.

"Y/N, can you hear me, babe?"

Jacob Peralta. The only name I could think of as I fought through the searing pain of every cut, every punch, every moment of being strangled or burned. The only voice I could hear calling my name as I sat there pathetically and waited to be rescued like some princess caught in a tower.

"The ambulance is almost here, Y/N. Can you open your eyes? Come on, baby, please."

Jacob Peralta, the last person to see me before I became a hostage.

"Fuck, Rosa, her pulse is weakening. What do I do?!"

Jacob Peralta.

"Baby, stay with me, come on!"

Jacob Peralta.

"Sir, we need you to clear the area, so we can properly assess her injuries."

Jacob Peralta. The one who kept me alive.

#queue #jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta x fem!reader #jake peralta imagine #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fic #b99 imagine #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic

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bluepenguinstories · 4 years

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Remoras Full Chapter IX: Poppy Fields Forever

It had been such a long journey. Constant doubts in my mind that I would ever find the place again. That with everything stacked against me, I would collapse, starve to death, or succumb to the elements, long before I would manage to make it back. My phone didn’t have power for days. Although there were lucky breaks that mitigated the distance, I didn’t find the chance to use it.

At first, I was relieved when I finally saw them. Saw her. But that all diminished once I caught wind of what they were doing.

“Fuck y’all!” I cupped my hands and yelled with as much strength as I could muster. It wasn’t much, but I did what I could.

They thought I was dead. For what’s worth, I should have been. I almost was. But even still, it pissed me off. They were all gathered around, so quick to call me a goner.

My movements were slow, but I was determined to make it to them. They were just a few steps away, and most of all, Remora was there. But to my surprise, the first one to approach me was the kid. She ran up and hugged me tight.

“You came back!” She shouted, relieved. At least, she sounded relieved. But I didn’t get it. Didn’t she just think of me as something to torment?

“Ow, ow, ow! What gives?” She just about knocked me off my feet. I already ached as it was, but her hug just made it worse. “I said I would, wouldn’t I?”

“I know! But nobody listened!” She whined.

Well, of course not, you’re a kid. But thanks. At least someone believed in me.

Someone else approached me. Some lady with dark brown hair in a long ponytail.

“There was a fire. I thought for sure…”

“Yeah!” I looked up at her, pointed at myself with my thumb. Someone had to set the record straight. “Because I set the fire!”

She looked taken aback. For whatever reason, the next thing she said was, “you’re alive…”

The mystery lady and Ray looked at each other in confusion. Why? Was it really so surprising? I didn’t have much time to ponder that, as the one I had kept in my thoughts approached me next. My heart skipped a beat.

“Good job,” she praised me. I couldn’t believe it. She actually praised me! I blinked, then my eyes went wide.

“That’s right. I’m really back, aren’t I?” I smiled, my hand on my chest. Oh gods, how it hurt to move, but the pain was enough proof.

Luckily for me, Remora hadn’t strayed far. I called out to her. My voice wasn’t as chipper as I intended it to be.

“Thank you,” I told her. Then I looked away. Down at the white soil. “But I took longer than a week, didn’t I?”

I vowed that I would return. That much was true. But I thought it would have been such an easy task. How wrong I was.

She walked back up to me. Still as beautiful as ever, she towered over me in such a marvelous way. Just as I remembered.

“You were the one who imposed such a deadline. I don’t think anyone else was concerned over that.”

“Maybe not, but you were also right. It was a trap. You were also right that you would have considered it a chore. I shouldn’t have gone.”

“Did you cleanse the house as the request stated?”

I blinked. “Er...yeah. In the sense that there’s no house left to cleanse. It was a hollow victory. So, as much as I want you to be proud of me, I have to face the facts.”

“It doesn’t matter. You could have told me you failed.”

“What?” I felt like I was getting mixed signals.

“The fact you have to face is this: people were worried about you. You made it back alive. So by that merit alone, good job.”

I wiped my eye. It itched. Or rather, I thought there were tears, but I felt none.

“Thank you,” I replied. I didn’t know why I couldn’t muster up many emotions. Maybe it had always been that way with me.

She started to walk away again, but I had one last thing to say.

“Even if the results weren’t great, I don’t regret it!”

“Oh?” She turned around.

“Even if it meant facing death, I would do it all over again! And I would make sure to do a better job!”

“That’s foolish,” she remarked.

“Maybe so, but I’m serious! More serious than last time! I’d risk my life several times over, all so I could see you again! And...And in hopes of being a better person in the process!”

I took a deep breath. Then, I asked her:

“Maybe this won’t mean much to you, but...can I tell you what happened?”

“Very well. I can do that much.” She returned. I was a little nervous to have her close to me, but I wouldn’t let it get to me.

The lady with the ponytail and tank-top (seriously, who would wear such a thing in the arctic?) came forward. “I think we would all like to hear about it.” Ray nodded to that. Even Tigershark huddled in.

Great. Now I have second thoughts about saying anything what with the kid and all.

But I did. I kept it short. I left out many details, both for their sake and mine. There were some things that were better left unknown. That said, I still remembered every little detail.

Our way out. The basement. I was so confident that the three of us would go through and make it out, even if it would be a tight squeeze.

However, those two had other ideas. They refused to budge, only shook their heads in frantic motions.

“Come on, we’re not going to get anywhere if we don’t at least try, right?”

“Um…” One of the Mel’s spoke up. The man Mel, I think. Goddamn, it was more confusing than I thought. It didn’t help that they were so identical and their voices were so similar.

“How about this?” I bargained. “I’ll go down and make sure it’s safe, then I’ll come back and let you guys know, okay?”

“But what if you don’t come back up?”

“You mean, like, if something bad happens to me?” My heart sank. I didn’t even want to consider the possibility.

“Or, what if nothing bad happens to you, but something bad happens to us while you’re down there?”

I put my hand on my chest. “I, Demetria, will do all in my power to keep the both of you safe. You have to trust me. I’m a professional.”

Again, professional at what, I didn’t have a clue. That was one detail I hoped they wouldn’t pry into.

Without further ado, I opened the basement door. In hindsight, I should have closed the door behind me. At the time, I thought it would be a good idea, since it was so dark down there, and the light from the house would help illuminate my way. I wasn’t thinking, big surprise.

Endless stairs, endless darkness. It soon became clear that I was in no simple basement. All around me was darkness. I looked back, but could no longer see the light of the house. In fact, the stairs under my feet seemed to disappear beneath me. It seemed like I was about to lose myself once again.

Just like in that dream.

In fact, although there was no light, the atmosphere changed. There was still no source of light, no way to tell if there was anything around me. That made no sense, since I couldn’t just walk on nothing, but at the same time, I couldn’t feel anything. Not even my own movements.

Remember. I am Demetria Root. I am here to impress Remora. Remora...Remora...Remember...I am Remora...no. That’s not right.

My eyesight was already poor as it was, and sure, I was wearing contacts, but being unable to see messed with me. Eventually, however, I caught a faint light off in the distance.

What should have come as a comfort offered no such thing. The ‘light’ in question was a series of small candles, lit in a row. But other than the glow, there was nothing to be seen.

This doesn’t bode well. I should have brought something with me to defend myself. I could have gone into the kitchen and grabbed a kitchen knife at the least. Oh well. No use crying over spoiled milk.

I followed the line of candles until the glow grew brighter, little by little, and off in the distance, the shadow of a figure emerged. That same cloaked figure that spoke to me in my dream.

I took a step back. “You!” I shouted. So, it seemed that mysterious dream figure existed after all.

Although still dark, I began to make out the walls that surrounded me, which resembled more of an underground cavern than basement walls. At the same time, a pungent stench filled the air. Just like the dream. The scent of rotting flesh. I pinched my nose.

“To think, I was so close to collecting you for the harvest, but you regained your sense of self.” The figure’s voice echoed.

So it wasn’t a dream. If that’s the case, then I really did avoid a fatal blow.

“Actually!” I pointed toward the one who identified as Cronus. “I didn’t! You just had really bad aim!”

“No matter. Your death could have been painless, but that can no longer happen.”

“Fine by me! I prefer a painful life over a painless death, anyway!”

The figure stepped forward. Rather than back away, I held my stance.

“Anemonefish, otherwise known as Clownfish, are a subfamily of the Pomacentridae family. Another subfamily in the Pomacentridae family are the damselfish,” I began to recite. “Ocellaris Clownfish, or Amphiprion Ocellaris, share a mutualistic relationship with sea anemone. The clownfish feeds off of bacteria that would otherwise harm the anemone and in turn, the anemone protects the clownfish by stinging potential predators.”

“What are you doing?” The figure interrupted.

“I’m! Uh! Intimidating you!”

“The only thing you’re doing is denying your own fear.”

“Wrong! The only thing I fear is tall, strong ladies who could lift me up! Crush me between their thighs! Tear me apart with their gaze alone!”

“Is that your weakness?”

“Yes! They make me weak!” I cried out with a passion. “But all pale in comparison to one in particular! She is the one who I keep in my heart! In my mind! And that is why...I will survive!”

Cronus continued to approach, but stopped midway, and crouched down. Once Cronus stood back up, the sickle I saw earlier came back into view.

I took a step back, only to trip over something on the floor. After I felt around and held up what had tripped me, I threw it aside and flinched. My heart raced. Beside me were a pile of bones. In a panic, I got to my feet and began to take short, heavy breaths.

“What...what the hell?”

I glanced back down. My eyes didn’t deceive me. But how? I didn’t notice them before. True, I couldn’t see much of anything a moment ago, but it was more than that. It wasn’t as if I had stepped over them before. So why?

As if to answer, a strong gust blew in front of me. I turned my head forward to see Cronus much closer than before. Bad news. Worse, there were vine-like things that shot forward behind Cronus. Tentacles were the first thing to come to mind, as if a giant octopus inhabited the space behind my pursuer, but that wasn’t quite it. The more I focused, the more it seemed like a sort of creature, or mechanism, that sought to imitate sea creatures.

Not like that of a squid or an octopus. Nor an anemone. Not vines. Not seaweed. Eels?

It seemed like a series of limbs which grew off of each other, creating endless multitudes with mouths at each end which fed off of each other.

“What is going on?” I asked the void once again.

Cronus turned to the left to pet whatever the thing was. Cronus’ head turned to me and stared with that same featureless mask.

“It will feast upon your mind. All the things that make up who you are, every little detail, will be integrated within it. Once you are empty, then it shall be my turn.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It is thanks to the lord before you that I am able to stand. Without it, I would have been a dead man. As thanks for its services, I have brought it to dwell here, where it feasts upon its surroundings. You mentioned sea anemone? We too share such a bond: It feasts upon one’s identity, and in turn, I am allowed to feast upon one’s physical being for sustenance.”

“You’re disgusting! Why would you do such a thing? For power? To feed some sick habit?”

Where do I get off being high and mighty? I don’t know, maybe because if I was overpowered and outmatched, I had nothing to lose by calling some sick fuck out.

“It is not for pleasure, but necessity. If I do not feed, I cease to be. Besides, I find great displeasure in doing this to you, as you were not the intended meal. No,” he corrected himself. “The intended target.”

“Then who was? Who could have been worth all this? And what did those others do to deserve such a thing? Huh?”

“Someone you wouldn’t know. Rhea Flection.”

That name. Why did everyone seem to know that mystery woman?

He continued. “She took my job from me. Took my very reason for being away from me. Murdered my co-workers in front of me and left me for dead. For that very reason, I wish to take her very being from her, and then devour every last bit of her. I will dive into the depths of depravity in order to achieve such a thing.”

“I get that you’re mad, but she’s not worth it! Besides, she’s already dead!”

Remora warned me about her. Saying how she wasn’t someone I’d want to associate myself with. I think I can see that, now.

“Is that so?” He asked.

“Yeah! I heard about her! Someone who worked with her said she’s dead, so she must be dead!”

“Interesting, here I thought I could lure her here, but instead, you took the bait.”

“That’s right.”

Could I actually reason with this guy? I wasn’t sure. He was already willing to kill and eat others. Innocent lives, at that. What made me any different?

“I may have taken the bait, but I’m no easy catch!” I declared.

He laughed a most hollow laughed. It didn’t even seem to come from him, but instead an outside source. But the head bobbed up and down, as if to signify that it was him.

“Such confidence. Even if she is gone, the lord will not disappear. You will be taken.”

The multiples of limbs shot out and wrapped themselves around my waist. More and more formed and tangled. I tried to struggle and break free, but felt myself being dragged.

“What do you hope to accomplish with this?”

“Nothing anymore. If what you say is true, then there is nothing to accomplish. This is its will now.”

As I was dragged, I noticed the candles still on the ground. One was close enough to me that I managed to reach over to it with my leg and kick it Cronus’ way. Sure enough, his cloak caught fire. He tried to stamp it out, to no avail. It continued to spread. Even still, the creature (if it could even be called that) didn’t loosen its grip. I drew ever closer to it, with no hope of breaking free.

There is nothing to fear, a voice pervaded my thoughts. I could tell it wasn’t one of my own. You will continue to live on, inside me. I can grant you all the knowledge you desire. All you have to do is become a part of me. Anything you desire, I can give to you.

Ha. How wrong such a monstrosity could be. For as great of a power as it had, it couldn’t understand me one bit.

But I can. You desire knowledge of marine life. Every last bit, until you know all there is on the subject. More than that. I can bestow upon you all the secrets of the universe.

“I don’t want to know everything! I only want to know what I’m interested in and that is something you can’t give me!”

I continued to kick about. Its mouth, more like a maw, was in full view, a giant pit of teeth, glass, various metals, and other unidentifiable things. As I drew closer, I felt my shoes collide with some of the bones on the floor. That gave me an idea: I clasped my legs together and managed to catch one. Then, I kicked both legs upward, and released. Sure enough, the bone launched into the air.

I’m about to do something disgusting, I thought, but without any other options, I went ahead with it: I leaned my head forward and with a stroke of luck, bit down on the bone. Once I managed to catch it in my mouth, I felt like gagging.

Nothing new. The stench of death has been making me want to gag this whole time.

I slammed my head down and the bone, with a jagged edge at its end, tore through parts of the things that had its grip on me. Cries of pain shot out.

Its grip loosened and I tore my arms free and ran off.

My victory seemed short lived. The stairs were still nowhere to be seen.

There is nothing you can do. You will lose yourself within me.

“Even if that’s the case, that’s all you can do! You can take my sense of self, my identity, everything about me, but you can’t take my passion! You can give me all the knowledge in the world, but it won’t mean anything to me if I don’t want to know it!”

Then you will lose that passion.

“Maybe, but if I do, then you get nothing! And even if you were to give me knowledge on the things I was passionate about, I wouldn’t accept it because I’m not interested in being given knowledge. I want to learn for myself! That’s what I desire! I threw away my passion for marine life in favor of something, no, someone I know nothing about! But that someone is who I’m passionate about and I want to know more about her! I want to know whether there’s a chance with her, and even if there isn’t, I would rather know that on my own than just being given her!”

You would take such a risk.

“Damn right! Even if it hurts me, I don’t want to know the answer unless I can experience it for myself!”

You will eat those words.

“And you will eat this candle!” I picked one up and threw the lit candle its way. I knew it would do little, but I needed some kind of distraction. As soon as I did so, I ran for it.

Soon, the stairs came back into view.

But leave it to clumsy me to trip over nothing. Not even a rock.

Just as I was about to get back up, I felt the same myriad of things wrap around my ankle. When I looked behind me, I saw the Cronus in the distance. He must have taken quick care of the flame. In a desperate attempt, I grabbed onto the wooden planks that held up the railing and dragged myself up.

Likewise, I managed to kick myself free. For having such a grip, the thing itself was quite fragile. Either that, or the distance was too much pressure for the being to exert itself. In any case, I crawled up the stairs like a dog and once I made it up, slammed the door shut.

Both Mel twins stared at me. We both stared at each other for a solid minute until I broke the silence.

“We’re not going down there.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because…” I didn’t want to tell them what I encountered. “It’s so musty and I think I saw black mold covering the walls. Total safety hazard. Plus, there were, like, hermit crabs.”

“Hermit crabs?”

“Err...well…”

“Is that what’s got you so scared?”

“I’m not scared!”

“Then why are you hyperventilating?”

I put my hands over my chest. All that time, I didn’t realize how frightened I really was.

“Never mind that right now. I’m the adult here and I say we find some other means of escape.”

“We’re adults too!”

Tch. They had a point.

Just as we were about to turn the corner, the door to the basement burst open and I watched the cloaked figure lunge at one of them. One of the Mel twins was right beside me. “Go,” I whispered.

That proved useless. Every action proved useless.

“No!” I yelled.

“Brother!” The Mel beside me cried out.

“Get away from him!” I ran forward, and I tried to pry Cronus off, but I could only manage a couple steps forward before he held one arm up. From his sleeve, vines shot forward and sent me flying back outside of the hallway until I crashed into a wooden chair.

Pain meant nothing in the moment; I picked myself back up and ran toward Melvin. Once I got closer, however, I stopped in my tracks.

Cronus’ mask had been lifted up and chunks of flesh were being ripped and bitten off of. Already I could tell that it was too late for Melvin; his neck had been sliced open, presumably with the sickle. I watched Cronus lean up and suck the blood from his severed neck.

It’s already too late. I told both of them that I would keep them safe and one has already been killed. I can’t bring him back. I can’t.

No matter the case, I tried. I kicked the kneeling Cronus, but all my effort proved futile. He remained fixed on the corpse.

Where is the other Mel? Melissa?

She turned out to be at the end of the hall, near the chair where I had landed against. While the cloaked cannibal remained fixated on his prey, I took the opportunity to run toward her and found that she was in tears.

“I get it. I failed. You were probably close with your brother, and now he’s gone. I told you I would do all in my power to protect the both of you, but it hasn’t worked out that way. I can’t promise anything, I’m not even a professional, but I’m telling you now, if there’s even a chance that we can make it out, we have to take it.”

“But –”

“I know! As it stands, we’re almost certainly going to die, but neither of us are dead yet! Even if it’s hopeless, I’ll do whatever I can to keep us safe! Now run!”

She ran out into the main hall, toward the kitchen. As I looked up, I noticed Cronus start to get up and he lifted his sickle.

I don’t know if I can outrun you. I know you can overpower me. But, even with all that in mind…

I took the chair and threw it his way, then ran toward the main hall. Next to the staircase was the suit of armor, its pieces all lying on the floor. Beside it, the sword.

That thing will still be too heavy to pick up. But it’s the only idea I have at the moment.

“Won’t you come play?” That voice echoed, but I knew it wasn’t Melissa’s. No, Cronus came into view, one hand raised, rotted, and shaped like a mouth. Such a farce, either to strike fear or to mock that which he killed.

“Being eaten alive is not my kind of fun,” I rasped, then spit on the ground beside me.

Chunk after chunk of the broken armor, I took and threw at him. All to no avail. None of them halted his movements. But even still, thanks to that, I was able to slow him down, keep him from running toward me. With that extra little bit of time, I took the sword and put all my might into just lifting it up at all.

It floated over my head, but still proved too heavy. Without a good center of balance, it was left to fall back down, even with me holding tight to it. At least I caught a lucky break and the swing down happened just as he approached and was about to swing his sickle.

The gap was too wide: neither he nor I got hit with the others’ weapon, but I still managed to take advantage of the situation by letting go of the sword, then grabbed onto his sickle.

His grip was still tight, and he stood at least a foot taller than me, but none of those facts seemed to matter. I pulled myself up with my own grip, then headbutted him. That took him by surprise and sent him back. Likewise, I fell back in great pain.

“Ow, ow, ow.” I rubbed my head. Between us was the dropped sickle. He tried to grab it first, but I ducked under him, then grabbed it for myself. Adrenaline rushed through me. I took the shaft between my hands and broke off a piece with my knee, something which I knew would hurt later, if I managed to make it out alive.

“There. Lighter to use. More my size.”

He shot forth vines from his hands, but I slice through them.

“You know what? I can’t make any excuses for what she did, but if I knew you were going to turn out this way, I’d have killed you as well.” Those words startled me, but I was too horrified and filled with anger to take any of it back.

He growled.

From his hands, vines, tentacles, what even looked to be snakes, grew and formed together to make a new sickle.

“I am the harvester. I will harvest all life within these confines. That is my duty,” his voice remained calm.

“You may call yourself the harvester, but I am Demetria. I was named after the goddess of the harvest. Which means, if I so choose, all your crops, all your efforts, will spoil.”

Such a stupid line. But oh, so badass. If I die, at least let me have that one line. Please.

“I see. Then I will remember that name.”

He sliced forward, but I managed to block it with the one I had acquired. I held on as tight as I could, but it was clear he still held more power. In fact, he boasted as such.

“You spoke with such confidence, but you are still so weak.”

“That may be true…” I struggled.

Vines grew out from the makeshift sickle, as if to show me that there was no escape. That it would take me by any means. I freed up one hand, and took a step back. Still, it cut through one of my hands. Not enough to tear it off, but enough to make me bleed out.

It stung, but in the heat of the moment, I did not falter. Instead, I grabbed the matchbook from out of my pocket and struck a match.

“...But you are flammable,” I shot back, then applied the match to the myriad of plant life and other organisms.

At once, the flame spread and reached up his arm, soon surrounding his entire cloak. He tried to brush it off, to no avail.

Although acting in self-defense, it still horrified me to watch as the flames engulfed him, then, he dropped to the floor.

I can’t believe I did that.

Such a short-lived victory. At once, I was relieved, until I remembered that I let one person get killed, and there was still another that I vowed to protect. More than that, the two of us were still stuck in the mansion, with that creature down in the basement.

Broken from the spell of the flame, I hurried into the kitchen.

“Mel!” I called. “Melissa!”

Out from one of the cupboards under the sink, she poked her head out.

“Is it safe?” She asked.

“No,” I shook my head. “As long as we’re in here, it’s not going to be safe. But he’s gone now. That’s one less problem to worry about.”

“So is my brother…”

“I’m sorry. I –”

“No one believed that we would survive into adulthood. Our parents left us behind. We had to find jobs, but few would hire us. We took jobs at haunted houses in amusement parks, but it felt so degrading. Despite all that, we persisted, and managed to save enough money to find a home. We lived together. Ate together. Watched TV together. We did everything together. Without him, I feel so lost. Like I lost who I am.”

The floor beneath us shook.

“No,” I pleaded. “You’re still someone. It may take some time to move on, but you can! We just have to make it out alive!”

Those words felt so hollow. There I was, someone who had abandoned an identity I had built up my whole life in order to experience something new. It was frightening, awful, but at the same time, amazing. With every word I could muster, I wanted her to experience that as well.

She crawled out and stood next to me.

I let out a sigh of relief. Such relief didn’t last.

“Who am I?” She asked, and the moment she did so, she collapsed onto the floor.

“Please! Get up! We still have a chance!”

Before I could utter another word, the floor collapsed underneath her. I reached out my hand as she fell and caught her, but just as I did so, thousands of little wires wrapped themselves around her and dragged her down. Instead of dragging me along with her, the wires instead pulled her away and loosened the grip that I had on her. Once she fell, the floor closed back up.

I screamed out in frustration, stomped my foot, all to no avail. Right when things began to turn around, I lost her. Both of them, gone. Just like that. It was as if the whole house was toying with me. As if it held up a treat, and as soon as I reached for it, the treat was yanked away.

Right. The whole house. It’s just a part of that creature. As long as I remain in here, I’m as good as food to it.

Then, that familiar voice, appeared once more in my head. Look at you, it spoke. On the brink of despair. Losing everything. Your sense of purpose. Those you care about. Your reason for living. You may see none of those again. It was the same for him. As he lay on the brink of death, with hate in his mind for the one who left him and his colleagues for dead, he reached out, and I gave him all the knowledge he would need. In exchange, I made him a part of me. Thus, the same will happen with you. What will be left, once you have become digested?

My breaths grew shorter, louder, once more. I recognized them. Anger. Frustration. Loss. Confusion. All of those were tools to chisel away at me.

“You don’t learn, do you?” I yelled out. “What will be left of me? I’ll tell you: just try. I’ll give you indigestion.”

As I was about to leave the kitchen in search of a means of escape, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye: the cupboard door, still open and something red inside. I crouched down and found a container of gasoline.

“Well, if I can’t find an exit, I’ll have to make one.”

I made my way across each room, dousing the carpet, the curtains, every piece of furniture with gasoline. Soon trails were made, all leading to the hallway where the door to the basement lay.

Just to be safe, I shook the container. Liquid sloshed around.

Good. I’ll need every last drop.

Hesitant, I struck a match. It took me a few tries, but once it produced a flame, I knew what I was going to do.

“I hope this works. What better way to cleanse a place than to set it ablaze?” Whatever levity I meant by such a statement, it didn’t bring me any joy. No matter how I looked at it, others still lost their lives over the course of the night. If I knew better on what to do, if I had come more prepared, I could have tried to defeat such an unknown threat through other means. As far as I knew, the mansion had once belonged to someone. Whether said someone was good or bad, I couldn’t say, but it could have been repurposed. There were an infinite amount of possibilities.

But as things stood, there was only one known option available. So, I let go; opened the door and let the match do the rest of the work for me.

Down the stairs once more. Whether I would lose myself to the entity or not, I couldn’t say. But, if by some chance, I could spare others from such a fate, I would take that risk.

What are you doing? It spoke to me once more.

Giving you heartburn. What does it look like?

You will burn yourself along with it, was its reply.

I shook my head. I know. I was warned. Burns can heal. The dead can’t.

Once I made my way down the stairs, I tossed a bit more of the sinister liquid at the wooden planks.

Are you so willing to prevent your own escape? It asked. The voice was louder, more pronounced. In pain.

If I cannot escape, I’d at least like to see you survive.

Rather than an endless expanse of darkness, I was instead in a rather small room. There was a faint glow behind me, an orange glow produced from what I could only presume to be the house being burnt down. Not far from me, I could view a hatch. There was just the issue of the creature in front of me: much smaller in scale than the previous incomprehensible incarnation. The one before me just looked like a pile of garbage.

Got anything to say?

Rather than some ungodly remark, all I got in response were gasps and wheezes which played out in my mind. They could have been mine. But I could still think. I let out a breath. Maybe a little hoarse, but still mine.

More coughs. Like its mouth was covered in smoke.

Well, of course it is.

I climbed on top of some boxes and pushed the hatch open, then crawled out. Just as I could taste the crisp night air, I felt myself being pulled back in.

Don’t leave me, it wheezed.

One more match. That was all I had. I wasn’t about to wait for the flames when I needed to get a move on. So I struck the match, then dropped it down.

“Sorry. I’m not interested in you.”

Screams erupted in my mind and I could feel blood drip out of my ears. It was such a painful, awful scream. But my actions could not be undone. Nor would I have wanted them to be. It released its grip, as if it had any choice, and I stood up, then walked away from the scene and into the forest.

Once I passed through the opening in the barbed wire fence, I felt well and truly outside.

I gave a last look back at the house as it burned away. Stacks of smoke filled the night air. At last, the job was complete.

“Consider this place cleansed,” I muttered.

If only the path forward was more clear. My phone still had no signal. Worse for wear, I never knew the exact location of the diner which I had lived for the past few months. Luck would have to be on my side, and I just wasn’t sure if it would be.

The next morning, I found myself in that same city which I had arrived in when Cybele had dropped me off. Likewise, I found the same church. I crept inside and found the robed priest who greeted me just a few nights ago.

“Hi, it’s me,” I greeted. My voice as weak as the night before. Blame it on the lack of sleep.

“Oh, why hello.”

I sat at one of the pews and leaned my head back.

“You were right. You were also wrong.”

“Oh?”

“It was a horrible thing, but ‘spirit’ doesn’t really fit what was there. Likewise, it was more than evil. But it still wasn’t something I could consider less than evil at the same time.”

“So, you went?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you lived. Amazing.”

“Yeah. Amazing,” that statement felt like such a farce.

“You don’t look so good,” he pointed out. I turned my head and let slip a smile.

“Have I ever?” Burn marks and bruises. Cuts. Sore all over. Yeah. I’ve had better days.

“What do you plan to do now?”

I closed my eyes. “I don’t know. I want to make it back home, but I don’t know how to get there...and yes, before you say anything, I’m not talking metaphorically.”

“You don’t know your own address?”

“I never bothered to check. Rather funny, now that I think of it.”

“So tell me: was it worth the risk?”

I thought it over. I didn’t have the same energy I did when I first arrived. But all things considered, if I had to give an answer…

“We’ll see,” I replied. “It wasn’t as great of a success as I thought it would be, but all the same, it’s done. The place is cleansed.”

My thoughts slipped past me as I drifted off to sleep. After I took my nap, I departed.

Fast-forward several days and I stood next to my grave, among the ones I lived with.

Much of the details I had decided to leave out. For one, I stopped the story as soon as I exited the house. I also left out any mention of the twins who I failed to save. Basically, I told them that the whole request was a ruse in order to lure people there and once there, a strange monster would cause those people to lose their sense of self and a cannibal man would come out and devour them.

“But it didn’t get me,” I concluded. “It said that my head was empty. That must mean that I was too smart for it.”

Yeah. Okay. That may have been an embellishment.

“How did you figure out how to get back here?” The woman in the ponytail asked.

I shrugged. “That was actually the easy part. I just went around each motel in the area and asked if someone named ‘Cybele’ had checked in a few days ago. Finally, when I found a match, I did some digging online, and found the address to the airport. Still, it was a damn long walk. I thought I’d die on the way up here.”

“You walked all the way here?!” She sounded shocked.

“What else was I supposed to do?” I retorted.

Ray laughed. “In any case, we’re glad to have you back.”

The woman beside him nodded. “And I’m glad to finally meet you!” She held out her hand. “My name is Sunny!”

Oh. It clicked.

“Ray’s wife,” I came to the sudden realization. “He always tries to show me pictures of you, but I refuse, so that’s why I never knew what you looked like.”

Sunny blinked before bursting out in laughter. Ray joined her and the two held each other. I thought I was going to be sick.

“That was a weird story!” Tigershark shared her input. Because of course she did. “You should have at least included one penguin!”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “There was a penguin in the house and it helped me escape.”

“Much better!”

Why does everything need to be penguins?

“Hey,” I turned to Sunny. “Can I see the stone you used to write my name on that grave?”

“Oh. Sure thing.”

She handed it to me. I walked up to the grave and crouched down, then crossed down my name. In its place, I wrote down “Mel + Mel”.

There were no matches left. But I found some poppy flowers along my journey home. I took them out and placed them next to the grave.

“Mel and Mel?” Sunny asked.

“Just a couple of people I met on the way here. As for the flowers, I hear they’re a symbol of remembrance. Best I can do.”

“That’s rather sweet,” she remarked. I shrugged in response.

“Seems pointless to let the gravestone go to waste, that’s all.”

We were all about to head back inside, but I was stopped in my tracks. Remora turned around, holding a small gun.

“Answer me: are you who you claim to be?”

I gulped. “I’m not gonna lie, this is kinda turning me on right now.”

“Remora, what is this about?” Ray asked, shocked.

“What she just described was a cosmic entity. There are no true ways to kill them and once they are introduced somewhere, it’s almost impossible to get them to leave. Not only that, but considering she had been exposed to it, she could be infected.”

“Eep!” I panicked. “The only thing I want infecting me are the thoughts of you!”

In the background, I could hear Sunny whisper, “aww.”

Remora pulled out a device. “This should tell me whether or not you have been infected.”

I closed my eyes. “Do what you gotta do. If I die here, I’m at least glad I got to see you one last time.”

The seconds ticked by. Then, she spoke:

“Clear.”

I opened my eyes. “So...I’m not dead?”

“There are no signs of the entity. Still, it bothers me.”

“Why?”

“That someone would face a cosmic entity and live, it’s unheard of.”

“Heh,” I smirked. “Looks like I’m more badass than you thought.”

“Unheard of. Not impossible.”

Well, that didn’t matter. I was still going to bring up that feat any chance I got. After I gave one last look back at the stone, I followed everyone back in the diner. It was too early to say if I was glad to be back, seeing as the general vibe was too high energy for me, but maybe now that Remora saw how cool I could be, she’d at least let me fall asleep in her lap once or twice.

It took a few days to settle back in. I had to be slow in my meal intake, seeing as I went so long on so little food. Showers felt like the best thing in the world and I never wanted to leave once in. All the running around that both Tigershark and Sunny did was...a lot. But after a while, things returned to normal. As normal as they could get around there, anyway.

Speaking of Tigershark, she tried her usual antics. I was prepared that time. At about six in the morning, she came running down the halls, she tried opening my door. Of course, it was locked. Also, of course, she made a lockpick out of someone’s stolen hair clips. So, of course, she got in. But right as she was about to slam her hands down on my bed, I jumped up and roared. She yelled and ran out of the room. Then, I went back to sleep.

Once I woke up proper, I ate a nice bowl of oatmeal and sliced strawberries. Sunny came by and used my shoulder as a prop to lean over.

“Good morning!” She greeted.

“Please get off of me,” I groaned.

“Aw, you’re no fun.” She took to the seat next to me. “Say, I had a great idea. Since it turns out you can actually hold your own pretty well, I wanted to see you in action.”

I gulped. “I...uh...don’t really have anything to show…”

“Well, indulge me. Even though we decided to continue on with the requests, we’re also all taking a bit of a break from them. Besides, I’m still not sure if you’re ready. So let’s say you and I go on an adventure, huh?”

I waved my hand away. “No thanks. I only do things like that if Remora’s going to notice me.”

She perked up. That just made me more nervous. “Even better! We can talk about all these feelings you have. It’ll be like a girl’s night out!”

Oh, come on! Was I that obvious?

“I don’t know...I’m more of an introvert.”

“I’ll get you anything you want if you’ll go with me.”

I thought about it between bites of oatmeal. Then, something clicked.

“How about a field guide book of the fish in the area?”

“Deal.”

Only a few days of respite, and I was already about to go off again. At least I was confident that I could take on anything, so long as I thought of big muscled women.

#writing #stories #fiction #horror #action #drama #comedy #tragedy #greek myth #demeter #cronus #big muscled women #cosmic horror #remoras full

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lazella · 5 years

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Oooooo, what about a story about the avengers telling all their wacky adventures and the go characters tell theirs or a story about everyone doing trauma competitions. (Like don't is saying how he was captured and kidnapped and Yugi is like i lost a card game and my soul was trapped in a rock. Then they just keep going trying to out bet each other.)

So it probably turned out more angsty than you hope but I had a ton of fun writing this one out!

Trauma Conga Line

Natasha wandered through the kitchen during a late night.She had a hard time sleeping, a rarity nowadays but they still happened, so shedid a quick workout then went for a snack. She was surprised to see Tonyalready in the kitchen seemingly having a staring contest with his drink.Natasha quickly put some facts together and asked,

“So what happened to the boys?”

“What makes you think something happened?” Tony replied notbreaking eye contact with his drink.

“You are having alcohol in the middle of the night and yourdad instincts have been in full force all evening.” Natasha explained, “So whathappened.”

Tony sighed, “You know that scouting mission that we didtoday?”

“That somehow ended up with you returning with cuts onYusei’s head, burns on Yugi’s hands, a black eye on Yusaku, Yuya constantlyflipping through his four personalities, Yuma with a nearly broken arm, andJudai looking like he foresaw his death? Yes that mission that you didn’t tellus what happened and sent each kid into his room then went for the alcohol.”Natasha frowned while holding back a lot of sass. “So yes…if you couldelaborate now please.”

“There were smugglers there like the report said…but theywere smuggling Vibrainium. And they wanted to go down with a fight. Things gotugly fast. We were trying to get Yuya and Yuma to safety but then a grenadewent off…Yuma was limp on the ground…” Tony went ash white, “Then……Judai…hejust...snapped.”

“Snapped?” Natasha raised an eyebrow, “How so?”

“He was in shock…then his went eerily calm…then his eyesturn gold.” Tony downed his drink, “His eyes turned a flat gold color then hesnapped a smuggler’s neck with barely any effort. I don’t think the Power Stoneactivated at all. But then he started stabbing the already dead body. Yugi andYusei tried to pull him off but I think Judai let off this black fire to blowthem off then went after the other smugglers. He only stopped when Yusaku usedthe Mind Stone to snap him out of it.”

“And what happened after that?” Natasha asked.

“They….They laughed!” Tony started laughing himself, “Theyjust talked talking to each other then they were making jokes and laughing!Like what had just happened was an everyday thing for them!”

Natasha frowned, that did seem rather odd. They were allrather young kids so the fact that being ambushed and nearly being killeddidn’t faze them was slightly concerning. Especially to the point that theywere laughing it off.

“Think something happened to them that near-deathexperiences don’t faze them anymore?” Natasha asked.

“Well…Yugi admitted to being put in life and deathsituations frequently.” Tony started listed off, “I also have Yuya frequentlyvisiting a therapist cause I think he, or one of the kids in his head, mighthave been a child soldier. And Yusaku has PTSD. But that’s only vaguebackstories for about half of them.” He pour another drink and downed it,“They’re kids Natasha…this shouldn’t be normal for them.”

“We’re not…exactly kids…”

Both Natasha and Tony jumped at hearing Judai’s voice. Theyoung man stood at the base of the stairs looking very nervous.

“Sorry if for the…scare today Tony…” He sheepishly rubbedhis head, “I haven’t gone Haou in some time.”

“Haou?” Natasha raised her eyebrow.

“It’s a remnant of my…past life…Yeah reincarnation was afactor here…” Judai explained at seeing the confused faces, “I think Ioriginally lived sometime in the Roman Empire. I was supposed to inherit akingdom and tremendous magical power but things…didn’t go exactly as planned.Even me getting my powers back in this life really wasn’t the best way to goabout it in hindsight.” Judai sat at the table joining them and continued,“Some maniacs wanted to reawaken me and one had the bright idea of sacrificingmy friends for that…” Judai sighed, “Let’s just say…he got his wish when my‘other side’ woke up and killed him.”

Silence hung over the table.

“Seeing Yuma on the ground like that…” Judai continuedwithout any prompting, “It looked too much like that day. I’m afraid about losinganyone else…so I went Haou. Dark evil king who slaughters all his enemies.”

“Does anyone else know?” Tony asked.

“Yugi and Yusei have an idea…” Judai answered, “I gave thema brief overview of my history and abilities when we first met. That’s how theyknew how to snap me out of it.” He started tugging on his hair in a nervousfashion, “It honestly scares me…knowing that I can snap like that if someone Icare about get hurts but today….they could of died….”

Tony put a hand on Judai’s shoulder before he could startspiraling down, “I thought you guy were going to get killed too…you’re honestlytoo young.”

“There’s no point in losing sleep over that Tony…” Judaisaid, “Destiny can call you at any age. It’s all about how you respond.”

“That sounds really profound for you.” Tony smirked.

“Don’t you start that….” Judai pouted, “I get that enoughfrom my friends from home!”

Natasha smiled as the two began to bicker. Seems like Tonyhas gotten over the trauma for tonight, but it seemed like there was moreheading their way when Thor came in the kitchen next with one hand on Yuma’sshoulder.

Yuma had his injured arm in a sling, a pillow under his goodarm, and his eyes looked red as if he had been crying. Not a good sign.

“What’s wrong Thor?” Natasha asked.

“Something I will admit is not my forte,” Thor seemed ratherexhausted himself, “I found young Yuma wondering the halls speaking ratheremotionally with his spirit friend. Apparently, they both seemed panicked aboutan event from the past repeating.”

“What event exactly Astral?” Judai asked confusing Natashafor a bit before remembering that Judai was one of the few people who could seethe spirit.

There was silence as Natasha assumed Astral was answer thequestion before Judai and Thor looked shock while Yuma looked ready to cryagain.

“Could someone explain what was just said?” Tony askedconfused.

“Astral said that Yuma had watched almost all of his friendsdie in front of him which was only fixed because they got a lucky break totweak reality.”

“You’re thirteen!” Tony yelled, “How do you have that kindof history!”

There was more silence but by judging by the way Judai,Thor, and Yuma were looking at the same space of empty air, it seemed likeAstral was talking again and Tony was getting a bit annoyed.

“Okay I can’t keep waiting for this game of telephone toplay out…JARVIS let’s test out that program.”

Of course sir…some whirring noise kicked in and alight flickered and Natasha gasped in shocked while Tony looked pleased withhimself.

Hovering in the air was a blue humanoid figure with greenmarkings and blue gems all over his body. He looked at them in shock, “You cansee me now?”

“And we’ve got audio yes!” Tony pumped his fist, “I toldYuma I wasn’t going to let something like being chosen by magical forcesprevent me from seeing spirits. It’s not perfect considering you look and soundlike a hologram but it’s better than nothing. So what were you saying?”

Astral took a minute to get over his shock before he repeatedhimself, “I was originally created as a weapon to settle a war between twoworlds before I lost my memories and encountered Yuma. He helped me regain themand his friends got involved with what was happening. But when things hit theirclimax Yuma nearly lost everyone…” He rubbed his chest, “Myself included.”

Tony was silent for a while, “JARVIS…wake everyone up.”

“Wait what?” Everyone else said at once.

“We are having an impromptu group therapy session. Get theblankets, pillows, and all sorts of drinks because we are not dancing aroundthis issue any longer.”

Sure enough that’s what ended up happening. People weredragged out of bed, forced on the couch under blankets, injured peoplesurrounded with pillows, and hot chocolate passed all around. Yugi and Yuseiseemed to be in a good mood about it while everyone else kept freaking out overthe now visible Astral. Yusaku’s reaction was the most memorable as he tried todo a 180 and leave the room immediately the moment he spotted the spirit, allwhile keeping a flat expression. He was dragged into the pile by Judai.

“Tony you know I have a flight to catch tomorrow…” Clintmuttered trying to stay awake, “Why’d you drag us out of bed.”

“Because some people…” Tony stole a glance at the sixcolorful haired boys, “Have been hiding a lot of trauma and it needs someserious airing out.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad Mr. Stark,” Yugi said with asmile, “That worst that’s happen to me was my soul getting yanked out once ortwice.”

Tony’s expression went flat, “You said that way to calm formy tastes. You make it sound like an everyday occurrence.”

Yugi just shrugged not losing his smile, “Got used to it.”

“I’m with Tony, you sound way to calm.” Steve said.

“At least he doesn’t have to deal with turning into a greengiant any time he gets angry,” Bruce said with much salt in his voice clearlynot happy with being woken up in the middle of the night.

“But seriously Tony why did you feel that it was necessaryto wake us up?” Steve asked.

“Because I know for at least three of these kids now…” Tonypointed to Yuma, Yuya, and Judai, “Have fought in some sort of war watchingtheir friends die.”

“Oh…” A sense of familiarity and understanding washed overSteve, “I see. And the events of the day stuck a chord?”

A round of nods.

“It is hard getting out of that way of thinking…in the warwe just called it shelled shocked. The doctors just thought the men weren’tbeing ‘man’ enough to deal with the fighting. After waking up in this century Ifound out that wasn’t the case. PTSD is not a laughing matter and it reallydoesn’t go away. You can learn how to manage it and be able to distance thosetraumatic memories, but you lose that feel of safety and security. There is nogetting it back.”

All of the Avengers nodded in agreement.

“How do you cope with it?” Yusaku’s voice was quiet as allheads turned to him, his face looking rather…hopeful.

“Word to the wise…don’t use alcohol.” Tony said.

“Except for Yusei…we’re all underage Mr. Stark.” Yugipointed out.

“Still putting it out there.”

“But Tony is right, going into self-destructing tendenciesdoes make things worse.” Steve explained, “It was tempting for myself. There’sno way to explain the shock of getting knocked unconscious and waking upseveral decade later know that everything you knew and love was gone. The barswere tempting that day…but I quickly found my new support. I got to know peoplein the century…and got a new team.” Steve gestured to the other Avengers.

“My life prior to this wasn’t that good either. Being assassinfollowing orders and constantly on the run...I got tired of it.” Natashaexplained, “I eventually let myself get caught just so it could end…but itturns out Fury had a better idea of how to put my skills to use which lead tothe founding of the Avengers.”

“What about you?” Yuya asked Clint, “Was it the same foryou?”

“Actually no…” Clint said, “I was just an agent that gotrecruited into the Avenger’s initiative. My trauma didn’t start till after thefact with several rounds of brainwashing and mind control.”

Several people winced in sympathy.

Yusaku gripped his mug tighter, “What about kidnapping?” Heshrank a bit at the bewildered looks he got, “How do you recover from that?”

“Is…that what happened to you?” Bruce hesitantly asked.

Yusaku eventually nodded. “I was six…”

Immediately Yusei put an arm around the boy, as did Natasha.Thor started muttering about getting justice and puny mortals. Both Tony andSteve faces went hard with anger.

“Yusaku…I’m sorry…I had no idea…” Yugi began.

“None of you knew…no one else knew…the whole thing wascovered up…” Yusaku gripped his mug so tight that he was threatening to breakit, “I was only found because someone blew the whistle on the whole thing…”

“Breath…” Yusei warned gripping Yusaku’s shoulder tighter,“What did you do after that?”

“I tracked down those responsible…” Yusaku explained, “Itwasn’t all that I hoped…the doctor behind it had died right before I found him.I only got the full details from his son who turned out to be one who turnedhim into the authorities.”

“You wanted revenge?” Clint asked.

“I just wanted answers…” Yusaku took a deep breath, “I gotthem but now…I’m not sure what to do.”

Silence hung over the room as everyone struggled to come upwith something to say.

Yuya was eventually was the one who made the first move. Hegot up and hugged Yusaku…tightly. Yusaku looked unsure on how to react to thehug.

“You’re not the only one…” Yuya squeezed tighter, “I feellost too…but it’s okay.”

Yusaku still looked unsure but with some prompting fromYusei, eventually returned the hug.

“Thank you.”

Tony relaxed in his seat and smiled. Seemed like theimpromptu therapy session helped out a lot though the late evening was takingit’s toll. Yuma had already passed out on Thor’s lap who looked torn betweengetting up or staying in place so that he didn’t disturbed him. Astral justreassured him that Yuma would sleep through anything, but Thor elected to stayput. Clint had already gone to sleep as well enjoying the pile of pillows. Oneby one everyone nodded up in rather cute positions and you bet Tony took plentyof photos for later. But before he took fell asleep, maybe he would make aquick pillow fort.

#infinity stones au #yugioh #avengers #gx #5ds #zexal #arc v #vrains #ironman #thor #captain america #steve rogers #tony stark #so much angst #the yu boys have a lot of trauma and not so good coping mechanisms #Anonymous

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aoibaratraveler · 4 years

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A Look Back At My Time in Japan! Chapter 2

Welllllll it looks like it’s been a while since I last posted again...but I have an excuse! I was preparing for a pretty big interview and getting ready to make a trip back to Canada. Maybe you’ve heard of the JET programme and maybe you haven’t but I had an interview for that earlier this month and so it took up a lot of my headspace, I’ll be posting more about it once I hear my results in a month or so but I hope to not have too much of a gap anymore in between posts! Also, a mutual friend of both mine and the bf is coming to stay this weekend from Germany so I’m very excited about that and will hopefully have chapter 3 up afterward.

I said before that this will probably be a 4 part blog but you know I really just have so much to say on my experience and can hopefully provide some insight to any people looking to go on exchange to Japan in the future! Or go on exchange in general since my UK exchange story will be coming after this one! So much happened though that this may just end up being a 6 parter xD, ahh it really would have been great if I wrote what happened at the time. Well, I hope you enjoy reading about Japan through my eyes! I’ve also decided to go with naming these chapters since unlike my UK road trip blog, I’m writing this 4 years after the fact so it feels more like I’m telling a story than giving a week by week account on what I experienced. Anyway, last change to my blog! Promise!

Without further ado!

First Month on Exchange: April

I forgot to mention! At the end of chapter 1 was when I arrived in Nagasaki for the first time and earlier in the day before my homestay mother arrived to pick me up, all of the exchange students were made to sit a placement exam to determine their level of Japanese and which class they were to be placed into. Since I had barely slept the night prior and wasn’t really reviewing my textbooks until the last minute, I was only placed in Japanese 3 (they work up from 1) which was good enough for the level that I was at, at the time but if I had reviewed like I had wanted to instead of being lazy then I might have made it to Japanese level 4...but well, we’ll never know and I’m really just giving myself a hard time since I take learning languages, especially Japanese, and being a linguist super seriously. I’m a major procrastinator so of course, I put off reviewing until the last moment but I should be proud of myself for getting there and I made some really good friends that I’m still in touch with from being placed in Japanese 3.

The day after arriving was a whirlwind! I felt like I could tackle anything and was so full of energy! I took my homestay mother up on her offer to drive me to the opening ceremony that was the day after I arrived in Nagasaki which was meant to welcome all the new exchange students and the first-year Japanese students. It was a rainy day but I was full of anticipation. I wore my best outfit that I had brought along with me and had high hopes. It was a really interesting experience as we never do opening ceremonies or anything of the sort for new university students in Canada. There are normally just fairs and maybe freebies up for grabs. My homestay mother only stayed for a small part of it and then left but it was short enough anyway so I didn’t mind. We were then shipped off to the university campus as the ceremony wasn’t actually at the school and then made to attend a sort of self-introduction and general information class where we each said a little something about ourselves and were able to ask any questions about what our life was going to be like for the next four months. I quickly seemed to grab the attention of a small Vietnamese-American who we’ll call TC. She was very bright and friendly and immediately asked if we could be friends because I said that I love to travel in my self-introduction and I seemed interesting whereas no one else did (probably should have taken this as a slight red flag but I felt flattered so whatever). We pretty quickly buddied up and spent a lot of time together thereafter.

The next day was a Saturday and from the looks of my Google timeline, I mostly just walked around and explored my new neighbourhood the whole time and got to know my homestay family. Although Saturday morning was special because my homestay family took me up to Tateyama to go have a picnic next to the cherry blossoms since they were still in season. Tateyama has a “mountain” in the name but it’s really just a hill that was situated behind my homestay family’s apartment and it took about 30 minutes to walk up. I tried some kakigori (shaved ice) and played with the coolest little Shiba Inu. It was a lovely little morning and I got to experience the happy atmosphere of my neighborhood while we all took in the cherry blossoms.

I was lucky enough to be placed in the centre of Nagasaki city while most other homestays were in the countryside, closer to the school. I wouldn’t have minded that since I adore the countryside of Japan and being placed in the city meant that I was an hour away from the university. My first official week in Nagasaki was jam-packed even though I hadn’t actually started my classes yet! Even though we had already attended our opening ceremony for the semester and the school year the previous Friday, classes, for the exchange students at least, weren’t scheduled to start until the second week of April and our first week was just for us to mostly do whatever we wanted! TC and I decided to spend our Monday making a day trip to the next prefecture which was Saga. We didn’t really have any idea what we wanted to do there exactly but I had recently purchased a JR Youth 18 ticket which is somewhat similar to a JR pass and anyone can buy it, not just tourists, and you can only go on local JR trains, so no bullet trains or high-speed trains. It costs about the equivalent of $120 and is good for any 5 non-consecutive days with unlimited trips on those days. We had looked up a bunch of cool things that were in Saga prefecture but would take a really long time to get to and weren’t anywhere near the actual city so we decided just to spend a day in Saga city...although we didn’t really have any choice. You see, I’m speaking to you in hindsight knowing full well how a lot of things work now...especially the JR Youth 18 ticket. I only briefly had an idea of it when I purchased it because L’s sister told me about it when I was living in Tokyo. So when TC and I embarked on our journey to explore Saga, we boarded a bullet train from Nagasaki station. We were about an hour into our trip when a conductor came by to check our ticket and notified us that we were very mistaken but he was super kind and understood that we didn’t know we had done something wrong and let us know what our next step should be. We told him where we wanted to go so he wrote out a detailed guide with all the stations we’d need to get on and get off at (after getting off the bullet train at the next stop) with all of the times. It was really helpful and I really appreciated it but what was supposed to be only an hour-long trip to the next prefecture turned into 4 and a half hours...I felt really bad because TC had left it to me since she couldn’t speak Japanese and voiced her displeasure at it all. It wasn’t a great start to the week but I think if I were on my own and the same thing was to happen then I honestly wouldn’t have minded. When we got off the bullet train we were in a really small town in the middle of nowhere that was super quiet with nothing around, it was actually really cool. We explored that area for about an hour while we waited for the next local train. There was a big river flowing through the city, an old shrine on top of a hill, and a bunch of little, colourful wind turbines lined up one after the other leading from the station to the river. It was lovely. That stop had the longest wait for a train, the next few stops had trains coming one after the other, but we had just missed one by being on the bullet train. After a long journey, we finally made it to Saga city but it was super quiet and no one was around, maybe because it was a Monday? It was really nice though, there was something really serene about being in a city with one main street and no one around except for a few elderly people walking about. We didn’t end up staying for long but I knew from living in Tokyo for a month that government buildings of any Japanese city are usually free for people to go up to, to the top floor and get a view of the entire city so that’s what we did and it was really nice because again, no one else was there and it was just us. Afterward, we took some photos with the cherry blossoms and headed back to Nagasaki.

The next day I decided to use my JR Youth 18 ticket again to go to Sasebo which is in Nagasaki prefecture so it wouldn’t be that long of a trip but TC didn’t want to have any more long train rides for a while so I went on my own. Sasebo is well known in the prefecture by people and is a recommended spot from locals because it’s where the American naval base is and has a different vibe to it compared to other prefectures. It is also famous for the “Sasebo burger” which is essentially just a normal-sized burger to us Westerners but was designed for the surge in marines that were living in Sasebo after World War II and became a hit to all visitors thereafter. I really just spent an afternoon walking around and admiring the area because, yes, it didn’t quite feel like the rest of Japan, but not exactly like America either. You’d have to see for yourself. I mostly wanted to visit Sasebo because there was meant to be an abandoned theme park nearby and I love that sort of stuff but unfortunately I would have needed a car to get there. The train ride in and out is what made it really special. It was absolutely gorgeous because the trip went along the coast and it was such a beautiful day, I honestly wish I had videotaped it.

The following couple of days I visited my university and more thoroughly explored the inner and outer parts of Nagasaki city, especially the biggest shrine in the area and what made that part of the city so popular, Suwajinja/ Suwa Shrine. “It is located in the northern part of the city, on the slopes of Mount Tamazono-san, and features a 277-step stone staircase leading up the mountain to the various buildings that comprise the shrine. Suwa shrine was established as a way of stopping and reversing the conversion to Christianity that was taking place in Nagasaki. In modern times it remains an important and successful center of the community.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suwa_Shrine_(Nagasaki)

I also got a job! It was the funniest thing actually. A day or so prior, I was walking with my homestay mother through town to help her go grocery shopping and I saw a little building that had an English school in it and was intrigued. Later, that night I looked the school up and decided to send them an email expressing my interest in working there part-time and if they had any open spots. I immediately got a response from the owner and he said I could come by the next day for a chat. I did just that and apparently, as I arrived, little did I know, a guy that the owner had just spent two weeks training and getting ready for the after spring break rush of students decided to quit at the last minute and do a runner. So to sum it up, after a pleasant but short conversation, I was hired on the spot. I was told to come by the next day for some quick training prep, as I had never taught English before, so that I could start the following week. He clearly needed someone after the other guy had bailed out though.

Finally, on Friday and the end of my first week in Nagasaki, all of the exchange students were taken for an overnight trip to the mountain and hot springs town of Unzen! It took us about 7 and a half hours to get there but we left early in the morning and arrived mid-afternoon so there was still plenty of time for us to do stuff. We were to stay in a traditional hotel next to a natural hot springs and several geysers. It was such a cool and mysterious area to explore with my exchange mates and TC, especially at night after soaking in the hot springs (which let me tell you was awkward considering it was my first time being naked in front of other people, other girls, but still). The air was misty because of the sulfur, smelled like rotten eggs, but that didn’t stop us from walking around in our hotel yukatas. We stayed up for a large portion of the night, took in the atmosphere and just basically partied. The next day we hiked Mount Unzen and it was awesome, the view was glorious. It was also just a really nice bonding experience and a better way for us all to get to know each other. After our hike, we were taken to the small town of Obama which wasn’t named after the former U.S. president but did have a statue of him. It was also a seaside town and was popular for its free public hot spring foot baths which we indulged in after having a delicious nabe lunch. It was an unforgettable overnight trip and did its job of helping all the exchange students get to know each other better (more detail here and below).

The following week consisted of more city exploration, settling in, my first shifts at the English school, some administrative university stuff like signing up for classes the old school way with pen and paper - gotta love Japan - and actually attending classes. It may seem a bit mundane but I enjoyed every minute of it. Oh I forgot to mention, another reason why Nagasaki is so cool to explore and why I never get tired of it is there is a big Portuguese and Dutch influence mixed in with the Japanese aesthetic because those were the first countries that Japan opened up trade to on the port of Nagasaki between the 16th and 19th centuries. To add to that, there are also several hidden Christian sites that are also UNESCO World Heritage sites around the area because when Christianity first appeared with the Dutch and the Portuguese, it was outlawed and forbidden.

In the next couple of weeks, I went strawberry picking with my homestay family which was spectacular! They had a family friend who owned a strawberry farm and we were allowed to pick an unlimited number of delicious, fresh strawberries. I’m telling you we picked enough strawberries to last us for the next few weeks and I got a strawberry coma from the amount that I ate. It was great. After strawberry picking, my homestay family took me to a restaurant nearby the farm where all the ingredients were locally sourced. A few days after that, I spent the day with a few of my new friends as well as TC and we went to the Nagasaki Penguin Aquarium and, boy, was that cool. We saw so many species of Penguin with all sorts of personalities. There was something that put a bit of a hamper in our day and that had to do with a guy who my friend so eloquently nicknamed as “kimoi” (Japanese for gross). I suppose it all started a day or so before my friends and I decided to meet up for the aquarium. I was sitting in the lounge at uni waiting for some people when a Japanese guy approached me and wanted to chat and obviously that was no problem so I obliged because I’m always down to make new friends. He seemed nice and friendly enough but we slowly moved from small talk to him mentioning a girl that I am now friends with but at the time didn’t know so well even though we were in the same class. He began talking shit about her and how mean she was to him and….how he wanted to kill her...I was like whoa ok no need for that, I’m sure it was a misunderstanding and I tried to cheer him up and his mood did end up getting better and then he just started complimenting me and saying how nice I was and I honestly didn’t know how to take what was happening. I honestly should have taken it more seriously but it was really just a passing conversation that I had with him since we were the only ones in the lounge and he seemed to be friends with a few other people that I had befriended. It was very strange though especially since Japanese people aren’t known to speak ill of others. Anyway, someone from the group of people I met had invited him to hang out with us at the aquarium and I was ok with it at first but...it turns out that he took our small talk that happened by chance as a sign that I liked him??? And wanted to date him?? He assumed that this whole day at the aquarium was our date and I somehow turned into his girlfriend and the other people that were there were just...third, fourth, fifth, and sixth wheels….It was bizarre and I was thoroughly creeped out. He was clearly unstable. The whole time at the aquarium he was trying to find a chance to be alone with me and get the other guys to leave but I kept making sure we were always with everyone and finally one of my guy friends took one for the team and said he’ll distract him by insisting he wants to hang out with him somewhere else while the rest of us headed back to the city. We ended the day by having a much needed calming visit to the Nagasaki Museum of History and Culture and spent a couple of hours learning about our new home.

Then, on the 27th of April, my birthday, I was pleasantly surprised by a home celebration planned by my homestay mother. She got me a little Sailor Moon figure since I mentioned how much I love the character Sailor Moon, ordered chiraishi bowls for all of us which is essentially sashimi over rice, and some cake. I was absolutely delighted. It was a fantastic day if I do say so myself especially since earlier in the day when I was in class my new friends had all bought me snacks and wished me happy birthday. I was further spoiled after work the next day by my boss taking me and my coworkers out for an izakaya dinner, obviously I don’t drink but the food at izakayas are always sooooo good. It was definitely one of my more favourite birthdays, I was 22 and having the time of my life.

I decided to end off April and spend Golden Week, which is a week at the end of April and beginning of May filled with national holidays and is thus called “Golden Week” by making a trip to Busan, South Korea with TC. She found a deal for us to take a 3-hour ferry from Fukuoka to Busan and stay in a Couchsurfing place (which was to be my first of many). I soon learned from this trip that even though TC claimed to be travel savvy, she doesn’t really do her research very well. But I’ll get to that in a bit. We embarked on our journey from Nagasaki station by highway bus (which was the cheapest option) to Fukuoka to take our ferry. When we arrived, we quickly got lost. South Korea, well Busan, isn’t quite as easy to figure out as Japan but that’s mostly because neither of us spoke Korean. We spent a while trying to find wifi and our host’s place. We were excited to be able to explore the city of Busan at any rate and spoke to a few locals along our way who could speak a little English. When we finally found and arrived at our host’s place. We found out that our host didn’t have a bed or a blanket or anything for us to sleep on, just literally the hardwood floor of his kitchen in a small one-bedroom apartment. I mean I was grateful to have shelter, I was, but damn. TC complained that the couple of other times that she used Couchsurfing she always had her own room and bed and didn’t know why this happened but being that I now have lots of experience in Couchsurfing, I can tell you that TC was either lying or that she must have had luck of the draw with her previous Couchsurfing trips and just requested to stay with the first person that popped up in Busan. Normally, when you look on Couchsurfing you can tell what the host is offering, where you get your own room or a shared room, how much privacy you get and pictures of the place but this guy must have had nothing up on his profile otherwise I don’t see how TC would have requested to stay with him...actually I still don’t see why she requested to stay with him. I never stay with someone if they have no references, pictures, or if it’s a shared space. It was such an uncomfortable 6 days because I really was not prepared to be sleeping on a hardwood floor with no cover but the clothes from my bag. The host was really nice though and he could speak English well so that was a plus. I mostly blame TC for most likely not actually reading his profile because then I could have prepared myself.

We spent our first full day in Busan and the last day of April at the Gamcheon Culture Village which is considered the “Asian Santorini” for its colourful landscape. TC had arranged for us to meet up with another couchsurfing host and his guest. One of whom was a Vietnamese ex-pat and an American from Connecticut that had been spending the past few months traveling around Asia. He was really cool and open-minded, we both connected with the two guys really quickly and had a blast exploring the village, trying street food and heading to downtown Busan. The American guy, Z, reminded me that travel shouldn’t be about seeing as much as possible but just absorbing where you are and taking in everything as opposed to getting so much done but never actually experiencing it. We walked for ages and thoroughly investigated every nook and cranny of this intriguing village. We also hiked up to the top and took an amazing view of all of the colourful buildings and artwork. I ate a loooot of street food that day and honestly each thing was under a dollar, it was great! Two things stood out to me from my street food adventure and that was Beondegi which is silkworm pupae; bitter but not overly gross and hotteok; my absolute favourite thing that I tried even though I’m not really much of a sweet tooth. It was a deliciously sweet, caramelly thick pancake with peanuts. One of the reasons why I love Busan so much is that the food is so cheap and delicious so I really did eat a lot of it….Since we hit it off with these two other couch surfers, we decided to meet up with them a few more times before leaving Busan. Later that night when we got back to our host’s apartment, we were invited to have fried chicken with him and his friend--an absolute must-have if you’re ever in Korea.

#Japan #japantravel #japantrip #studyabroad #studentexchange #homestay #japanexplore #Travelblog #gettinglost #busan #food #livelovetravel #travel #shoestringtravel

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iamapolarbear · 5 years

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So, today I was on my way to Rangers when I witnessed a car accident.

I’d left work, crossed the little stone bridge and was sitting outside the petrol station, waiting for the traffic lights 100 yards on to turn green. Traffic was coming in the other direction. I saw a girl. She saw traffic going right stationary. She saw no traffic going left. I would have walked between the stationary cars and peered through to see if there was anything coming the other way.

She didn’t!

There was no car moving on the other side of the road at the second she looked at the particular little bit of road she looked at. But there were cars coming. She saw nothing moving on her side and she ran for it.

I saw the Fiesta coming. I knew she was going to get hit. Less than two seconds between her looking at the cars and her being hit by the car. No time for anyone to do anything. She hit, she flew through the air movie-style.

I parked in the petrol station and ran across the road. The driver and his passenger were already on the phone to 999 and the girl was alive, alert, awake and alternately sobbing “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” and also answering the questions that were being passed from the 999 operator to the driver to the passenger to her. When I heard “I’m eleven! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Millie, I’m sorry,” I suspected there was nothing majorly wrong with her.

The passenger is a First Aid trainer so he’s got all that side of things under control. Meanwhile, I’m kneeling by her head, telling her it’s ok, she’s ok, you don’t need to cry, you don’t need to be sorry. We need to find her adults and luckily she lives right there. Dad’s at work but Nanny’s at home so I ran off to the house, peered in through the window, got barked at by the dog. And then Nanny comes out. She says something like “can I help you?” although what she means is “go away and stop staring in through my window!” and I say “Hi, are you Millie’s...?” because I don’t know exactly who this lady is. “I’m her nanny”. And I probably should have said something more gentle but I went for “She’s been hit by a car, just over there.” Nanny runs off half-crying in a panic while I run behind calling “she’s fine, she’s just grazed!”

In hindsight, I’m very obviously not emergency services personnel. To be at the house, with the name Millie and the knowledge that there’s a relative here, Millie’s probably talked to me. In hindsight, the fact that I’m able to pass on this message in itself means Millie’s ok.

Once Nanny has established, as we have, very quickly, that she’s not dead, dying or even seriously injured, she turns to me and says “Ever since we moved her, I’ve told them over and over again that they need to put a crossing in here!” and I decide it’s not the moment to suggest someone needs to teach Millie to cross a road safely.

A passer-by is now wearing a yellow jacket and directing traffic over the narrow bridge. My colleagues, who have short tempers where traffic jams outside their building are concerned, are probably going to be furious. I can’t see any of them. None of them have seen me kneeling by a stricken child and come to help.

Millie’s calmer now. The passenger and I have been talking to her. What did you do at school today? What do you like at school? What are you doing in the holidays? and she’s got enough self-awareness to eventually start to giggle at the fact that everyone’s asking her the same things. It also helps hugely that no one’s yelling at her. She’s been expecting someone to yell at her. Her parents are going to yell at her later in the week, maybe next week, I’ll bet, but right now, while she’s still lying in the road with the 999 call still audible in the car next to her, no one’s yelling. She tells me she feels like she’s done something terrible and I tell her she’s done something stupid but not really terrible.

She also tells me she remember spinning through the air in slow-motion. You know when you do something fun and it seems so slow. That’s what it’s like. I know it wasn’t fun but... I assure her I know what she means. She’s eleven. She’s trying to describe adrenaline without knowing about adrenaline.

What do you want to do when you’re older? No idea. Anything you don’t want to do? No hesitation. I don’t want to be a pizza chef. The passenger & I stare at each other, almost dumbfounded. That is the most ludicrously specific don’t want to ever. She doesn’t like making dough.

What she’s concerned about is her dress. But she’s wearing a school skirt and shirt. No, she’s just come from a singing thing, she’s got a show of some kind on Saturday and she’s carrying her dress and shoes for that in a plastic bag which is now torn to shreds. It turns out we’re using the dress as a pillow. I tell her it’s probably fine but dirty and Nanny promises she’ll wash it. This kid is lucky to still be alive to even see the show on Saturday.

Another woman turns up and starts fussing. Are you Mum? No, I’m Auntie. Excellent. Dad, it turns out, is at work and not allowed to answer his phone. He works for a chocolate company and Millie gets free samples but he also does night shifts as a 999 phone-answerer. Millie is now sufficiently calm to chuckle at the idea of her dad being the one to answer this particular 999 call. A teacher appears as well. Millie’s school is just the other side of the petrol station. She soon gathers that Millie is alive and relatively well and that there are plenty of adults and family here and she’s not needed. I ask if she’s Mrs Wheeler, Millie’s favourite teacher, but I’m not entirely sure what she replies and it’s not really important right now.

An off-duty paramedic on holiday from Scotland stops, causing more chaos on the bridge. He makes me hold her head still while he listens to her breathing and then asks if she was wearing a helmet. No? She... she was running, she was on foot. Does he think she was on a bike? Where does he think the bike went? This is the point at which the local paid paramedics turn up as per the 999 call. He starts talking like this is his scene. “This is Nellie, she’s eleven, this is what happened” and I don’t know about anyone else, but he’s annoying me. Dude, you weren’t there. You’ve only just arrived and her name’s not even Nellie. Thanks for the too-technical information about whatever you heard inside her but these paramedics are going to do it all over again themselves anyway. He goes on his way.

By now, Millie has wiggled her toes and fingers for at least five people - the passenger, me, the off-duty paramedic, the policeman and the real paramedic. She doesn’t complain. She giggles. She’s grazed her knee, parts of her legs and arms and a little patch under her eye but that appears to be the only damage.

The paramedic listens to her breathing, checks her neck, gets her to move her legs and arms and then gets her to sit up. Turn your head this way, that way, chin on chest. While they’re doing this, I shake out the dress. No damage. Bit dirty. It’s velvet, with lots of layers of netting petticoat. If you’re going to require an emergency pillow in the road, this is ideal. I assure her the dress is fine, since she’s worrying about it.

The paramedics get her to her feet, walk her to a stretcher and take her into an ambulance. My part of the story is over. Now I wait next to the car with the passenger for our details to be taken by the police. He says “We never saw her coming. We didn’t even know she was waiting to cross” and I assure him she didn’t wait, she just ran. The driver is still answering questions but once they get to the breathalysing, the other police officer suggests they move the car into the petrol station to get the road completely cleared and do the breathalysing over there. I know it’s just a formality, I know it’s 100% Millie’s fault, but if they’re asking him to do a little more driving, they’re clearly expecting him to pass the test. Which he does.

I give the policeman my statement. He takes my name, address, phone number, oddly my date of birth and even more oddly my place of birth. Together we put together a short paragraph explaining what I saw, which is more than what the driver saw, since he couldn’t see her setting off across the road. There was a cyclist also witness to events, with a camera on his head. But the camera was switched off! That cyclist will never go anywhere ever again without it switched on, I suspect.

And then I went off to Rangers without having time to get petrol, despite my car being parked for 45 minutes in a petrol station.

#tumblogging #millie #kids crossing roads #polarbearblogs

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tuwam · 5 years

Text

leather.

@belleavie [ x ] badboy!sam x poetrystudent!jamie

‘don’t you think it’s a bit excessive?’

sam takes the moment to pause, eyes falling on his very distressed mother. it’s usual for her she’s always been a high-strung woman. it only makes him smile more as he hops on the motorcycle.

“what’s wrong now mom?” ‘the motorcycle.’ “the piercings, the tattoos, i’ll be fine.”

he’d only just received his license but he’s been riding for the better half of two years. she’s only worried because he’s picked up the habit from his father and she’s afraid it’ll lead to other habits. unlikely. he gives her a fair kiss on the cheek before the helmet is on, secure and he’s revving the engine.

“you’ll miss your flight and I will be fine. I promise.” he bids her goodbye, sparing his step-father but a glance as he pulls off.

sam’s had this conversation with her before. trying to ease her worries, trying to assure her that everything was okay. that everything would be okay. that his decision to move to seoul had nothing to do with finding out about his dad or her new husband. that his decision to move to Seoul and attend university here had been about other things. about discovering things he couldn’t find in california. about getting away from the drunk party life that swallowed all his cousins and almost swallowed him. about getting something new, something refreshing.

he just didn’t think he’d be so spot on about it.

the obvious choice had been seoul u. because of his father’s reputation and his mother’s job back in the states ( to which he had the courtesy to study whatever he wished ). a reputation that earned him a fair share of stares and whispers. but that was korea. whispers, stares, questions about family and fame.

that was also california.

here - at least the flannels weren’t an indication of social status, or instagram feeds. other things were but flannels typically weren’t.

they were the first thing he’d bought when he’d arrived. from some off the wall store where the girls giggled at his accent but also asked if he wanted to be shown around.

his mom had laughed at that one, saying he must’ve inherited his father’s looks and charm.

as sam soon realized that wasn’t all he inherited from his father. the flannel didn’t say money, but it didn’t say ‘i don’t want to be bothered’ and his father’s reputation began to follow him on his journey to find himself in seoul.

it began to follow him in clubs which were unsurprisingly old stomping grounds. clubs where the occasional camera and snapchat would follow him around. not excessively but enough to bring out annoyance in him he hadn’t thought could follow from the states.

it’s one night of running, maneuvering away from a rather persistent girl with rather invasive question that have sam forgetting his flannel in her hands and grabbing the first jacket left on the rack.

in hindsight - this was stealing. moving ahead - he began to commit to the look. leather jacket said money, but leather jacket and a few piercings ( fake or not ) and a neck tattoo did the trick. he planned on getting the tattoo anyway so it was simply a plus. the look on his mother’s face both after she saw it and after he told her the meaning behind it - kodak worthy.

that was summer in seoul before classes started.

when classes began - so did everything else.

the only difference between dealing with the vultures during the summer was that the students had some tact - some focus. minds less clouded and a little more to do with their time than gossip or question him.

for the most part.

the outfit helped and sam soon found it to be an aesthetic. it didn’t fit him exactly but it was simple, monochrome and quick to put together. he wasn’t one for colors and as far as comfortable clothes went, he could slip a turtleneck underneath if he felt inclined. needless to say the leather look kept up, just as the whispers did.

the stories came on their own. with any good college, any bustling college, the rumors were next. some stories that sam himself couldn’t recall if they were true or not. stories that only built up as the months began to drive by. as he began to tell his mother his own set of stories, as he reassured her day after day that she didn’t need to fly down there.

‘did you really slam someone’s head in mashed potatoes?’ “do we even have mashed potatoes here?”

ahyeon - the one person sam thinks makes this journey something worth dealing with. the spice in his otherwise routine college life. he’s managed to keep a low profile and has avoided parties since his first summer here. it’s been about three semesters and she’s one of his stable friends - if stable’s the word for the two of them. he’d asked her if she was trying to strip him naked in a room and she replied that she’d strip the skin off his body if he ever implied that again.

her boyfriend ( who was not in the room at the time ) had laughed.

“it sounds like something you’d do not me.” ahyeon makes a motion to deny it but it’s trapped with joon coming by, the boyfriend who isn’t the boyfriend. ‘i thought it was a bowl of kimchi rice?’ “now I know we have kimchi rice here.” is sam’s only response, watching ahyeon reach to shovel a quarter of his beef onto her plate and another spoonful of rice.

“......are you high?” ‘are you jealous?’

a snort. whether it comes from joon or him, he’s not too pressed. sam’s just glad he’s found something of a routine for the days to pass by with. he finishes morning classes, meets up with them for lunch and tries to be an art student for the second half. committing to the art studios gives him peace and quiet he couldn’t get anywhere else on campus.

apparently, today wasn’t such a day.

[ from: joo joo the fool ] hm. ahyeon might get into a fight. wanna come record?

“no i’m not here to record.” is the first thing sam says when he steps up beside joon. joon who’s busy with a toothpick in his mouth, arms folded and looking entirely unimpressed with the situation. the situation being ahyeon, looking equally as impressed, if a little pissed out at the girl in front of her. the one who looks equally pissed off.

‘why the fuck would I care enough to throw kimchi on your designs. I don’t even know you.’ ‘i could care less about whether you know me or not. you left a note, because obviously you’re not intelligent enough to know to cover your tracks or that your boyfriend’s not that cute that i’d even give him the time of day.’ joon’s laughing and sam thinks he’s grown another head because nothing - nothing was funny about ahyeon looking like she’s about to swing. or the other girl. both were equally as troubling. ‘she’s got it all wrong if she thinks ahyeon would ever do something like that over me.’ but then ahyeon’s laughing too and sam thinks they’re both insane and perfect for each other. ‘you think - i’d sabotage your designs for talking to joon? talk to him I don’t care, free me.’ now sam’s laughing and it might be entirely inappropriate and the look the girl across from ahyeon gives him is all he needs to know.

‘something funny? these designs cost more than your future.’ probably. but sam doesn’t move. joon doesn’t move either.

the person who does move is coming from a bit behind them. a girl a bit shorter, dragging a man who’s much taller.

‘hanna you’ve got it wrong. the note isn’t signed ahyeon - it’s signed ah-neun. seriously you’d think your boyfriend tutoring would help but you apparently can’t read your own language now.’

the girl - hanna - does all but pale at the words boyfriend and the boyfriend who sam is assuming isn’t the boyfriend is just casually standing - looking halfway between amusement and disappointment. or both. sam doesn’t care - he’s worried about dragging ahyeon from this situation without her beating the life out his arm.

“hey ahyeon - let’s go.” he makes a motion to help joon tug her away when the shorter girl, the red-head with a smile so uncharacteristic for the situation, turns around to watch them.

‘sorry about hanna - she gets pretty heated about her designs. they were for her midterms.’ ‘don’t care. just tell her to find the one who did it and beat them - for her designs of course. and tell her boyfriend to tutor her better.’

that sets hanna off in a language sam understands too well and thankfully for both of them joon is tugging ahyeon away with promises of beef and hanna’s not-boyfriend is doing - something. something between soothing, scolding and laughing all in one.

‘thanks for the help.’ brighter-than-the-sun girl says. “didn’t do anything.” is all sam says before he’s following behind.

‘hanna just because they can’t understand you doesn’t mean you can curse!’

hanna’s got a colorful mouth is his first thought when he makes it to the studio.

he paints about more colorful things, and colorful hair in his remaining time.

‘he was cute.’ ‘no no and no.’ ‘you’ve got nerve ordering me around when you can’t read.’ ‘he’s got too much attached to his name, date someone off radar.’ ‘like you with minsoo?’ ‘like someone that i don’t have to fight girls who try to snatch the dye out your hair.’ ‘lucky for you i’m dyeing it again so it’s fine.’ ‘jay,’ ‘what’s so bad about him hanna?’ ‘nothing just - i can’t read him yet.’ ‘good, then let me.’

‘hey, once again really sorry hanna almost caused a fight.’

sam’s busy grabbing a few fruits to tide him over when jamie approaches him in the cafeteria. “okay.” is his response. simply because he’s not sure why she feels the need to apologize, why she even thought she need to. and to him of all people. joon’s the one who’s sad he couldn’t get anything to record. also because - it’s been a while since anyone’s approached him other than ahyeon who usually announces it with a fry launched at his neck. sam doesn’t say that though, instead he shoves the apple and sandwich into his bag.

‘you’re an art major?’ “you’re still here?”

with people like ahyeon and joon as his company, perhaps sam’s forgotten how to be less - candid? it’s also early and he hates being approached when it’s early. but she doesn’t seem to mind, in fact she smiles at that.

that’s new.

‘i don’t have class until another hour.’ “I have class now so - unless you need something?” ‘nothing.’ everything is big even if the words are small, her shrug, her smile.

sam’s walking away with the same thought. she’s still as bright as usual.

‘you’re here late.’ “lost track of time.”

which usually happens when sam’s in the studio, if he’s got a good idea and he’s just going about the canvas, he can stay at it for a while. his mom has often called him to wish him good luck and then called to say good night at the same time. he’s been scolded before but he can’t help it. sometimes he’ll leave and there are still others slaving in there, and sometimes like tonight, he’ll be caught late, paint still drying on his fingertips.

‘busy?’ “headed home.”

the curiosity that she has, he can’t quite match. but he does linger for a bit, he’s learned that she’s not always done when she starts, unless she makes it known.

‘bummer, i had a show tonight but maybe some other time?’ “maybe.”

he leaves without really knowing what she meant by show or really saying goodbye other than a bow of his head and slip of his helmet. she’s still bright, still smiling too, makes him think the night couldn’t really cover it that well.

‘oh - i thought you said you had inspiration?’

sam’s looking at the painting, concern something that isn’t usually on his face - showing today.

“i thought I did - i thought you said you were hanging with joon.” ‘he’s booked right now so i’m not going to bother him.’ “so you’re bothering me.” ‘if i was you would’ve told me.’

true.

also true about the inspiration thing. sam had it earlier, but it’s been fading as of late. fading and making him a little stressed. the inspiration was the main reason for coming here and while he’s been getting good grades on his assignments, he still isn’t feeling much from them. it’s why he’s a little antsy about being visited these days. ahyeon’s right though, if it was a bother she’d know. what he doesn’t know is what he needs to continue this painting. so he packs up again and they head out together.

‘staying late again?’ “thought I’d leave early.” ‘plans?’ ahyeon perks up at that. ‘please, i’ve been trapped in there all day.’ a different curiosity shines when the girl looks from sam to ahyeon, and someone sam knows he’s not getting out of this one.

the cafe is a short walk from the studio building. couldn’t be more than fifteen minutes off-campus, a place that isn’t too familiar, too flashy, or too big. it’s almost surprising that this is where she’s led them. it’s even more surprising when he sees the sign for the event. open mic night.

“you sing?” ‘you’ll see.’

and he does.

he watches, with the same confusion ahyeon has, as people go on and off the stage. he learns, very quickly, that it’s a different kind of open mic. it’s for poets. he’s even more surprised when he hears, kwon jamie, and she’s walking up on stage.

so that’s her name.

they leave that night with a little understanding, of who kwon jamie is. sam with an understanding of how she looks with fingers raised around her, snapping at her performance and stage lights zoned in on her face.

‘well. she was cute.’ “mhm.” ‘she was eyeing you.’ “uh-huh.” ‘sam.’ “hm?” ‘he’s in the zone.’

‘i’m scared to ask if you’ve been sleeping there.’ “almost, i remembered to come out.” ‘how long have you been in there?’ “what time is it?”

a serious question, that deserves a serious answer. all he gets is a look of bewilderment. one that ends with jamie dragging him to the nearest convenience store and pointing at the rather large display of ramyun. the only time sam does stop her, is when she’s pulling out her wallet to pay. sleep-deprived or not, he still has manners.

‘seven hours? painting.’

a nod, because he has a mouthful of noodles and steam rising over his cheeks.

‘are you insane?’ sam looks up, takes in the look on her face, one of fascination and general confusion before he swallows to answer. “you leave your studio the same time as me don’t you?” ‘okay but-’ “we’re both insane then.”

as time drags on, and sam downs two more bowls, jamie gets a glimpse of him sleep-deprived and a little loose-lipped. he gets a glimpse of her, under moonlight but also flickering convenience lights, her neck when she laughs so hard she throws her body back. the roots of her hair when she’s falling forward and he’s insisting it wasn’t that funny but is laughing as well. laughing and noticing things.

“you dyed your hair?” the laughter stops then, jamie composes herself, wipes a few tears before her arms cross. ‘you just noticed?’ and sam doesn’t have a response for that. not really. he just has thoughts, as always. except this time he lets them go. “i liked the orange but - the brown fits. it’s neutral but it lets everything else shine.” it’s uncharacteristic yes, and if he weren’t busy slurping the last bits of the noodles, he might have noticed the look she gives him. instead he’s careful not to get any on his clothes.

“it’s late, i’ll take you home alright?” ‘on the motorcycle-------’ “yes on the motorcycle.”

sam realizes that even if the brown isn’t as bright as the orange, the laughter she lets loose, perched careful and closely against his back as they ride, is just the same. just as satisfying even.

‘it was so much freaking fun.’ ‘i’m glad your motorcycle date didn’t end with you getting a tattoo on your ass.’ ‘hoho - you sound jealous.’ ‘she’s mad I won’t ride on one with her.’ ‘minsoo-yah, you have to indulge the woman.’ ‘that should’ve been with me, whisking you off into the heart of seoul.’ ‘heol, just be happy I had fun please.’ ‘i am happy.’ ‘and no background checks.’ ‘fine.’

‘how are things with the golden girl?’ ahyeon of course is quick to ask. “????” sam is of course, oblivious to everything that isn’t his food or coffee. ‘apparently people saw you give her a ride home last night.’ joon as always, is the translator. ‘and the night before that and the night before that.’

so it’s become a bit of a habit. that he won’t deny. even with ahyeon staring him down so suggestively that he wants to deny it, just to spite her. but it’s become a habit, and sam has no reason to lie about it. so he’s sliding the seat open for the male and regarding ahyeon with another look.

“i didn’t think you cared for gossip.” ‘i have become a fan because of hanna.’ “who?” sam is once again, out the loop. ‘the fashion student.’ joon is always in.

“why does anyone care if I drive her home?” it’s late, it’s not like he’s going to let her go by herself. sure he did it all those other times, but now he knows a bit about her. knows about how long and cold the bus ride to get home is. knows how she might carry protection on her but is still convinced she might not need to use it. knows how she prefers to grab ice cream from the convenience store and ends up staying even later out. sam knows now and does what he can.

that’s all.

‘people are wondering if you guys are dating.’ “people should mind their own business.”

sam’s hoped that for the while he’s started inching from the spotlight the students often like to throw him under - people would stop being so concerned with what he does. but he doesn’t see the problem here, whether he drove jamie home or not is his business. maybe it’s a little too early, and maybe he just needs to finish his coffee before he acts on this general annoyance.

“i’m going to the studio.” and for people who know him, they know that this time he just wants to go alone.

so they let him.

jamie is a different story. she’s only seen him thus far, loose and spent from working in the studio, a place he lets all the weight and frustration fall off in order to focus. when he walks in with such thoughts, he tends to get clogged up in his mind and isn’t productive at all.

‘now I really think you’re planning on sleeping here.’

sam’s on the floor, smudges of paint lining his jacket and dried on his fingertips. he only finger paints and splatters when he’s not feeling too inspired, likes to feel the consistency and really focus on what can come out of nothing, and how it feels to bring it about. abstract painting has it perks sometimes. he doesn’t say anything and yet he’s not surprised that it’s her.

“if i was?” ‘if you were?’ “planning on sleeping here.” despite the paint that’s chipping off his fingers, he slides his hands under his head, contemplating his thoughts. contemplating what he wants to say and how he should say it. contemplating that if he were to look up - would he be able to avoid her gaze. “guess someone else would have to drive you.” ‘guess we’d have a sleepover.’

and somehow, sam’s not surprised at all. when she takes a seat beside him. when she doesn’t stare at the tattoos lining his arms when his jacket’s off, and when she doesn’t deny the offer to sit atop it. he’s not surprised that he’s not bothered by the humming, or the occasional movement around him while he paints. not surprised that jamie’s sunshine seems to reach over all.

or when pieces of the canvas turn yellow.

‘what is it?’ he’s packing when she asks. “not sure yet.” he’s smiling when he answers.

smiling as she scowls his way, something different from the way people watch his movements, eyeing the tattoos and the piercings alike. something playful, like pink on her cheeks when they’re headed out to his bike. like wisps of her hair that flow past, and laughter that echoes each time he tells her to hold tight and they drive off. like a painting suddenly unfolding on it’s own.

sam doesn’t realize it at first. as the colors on the canvas start to change. as he pulls it out and shoves it back in corners, letting inspiration come every now and then. unconcerned about how it comes, when it comes, or the things that prompt it. unconcerned about how he’s starting to have a color for the little things she does. how she’s got a way of finding out about the little things he does.

how she’s managed to tackle his morning personality. how she’d laughed when he ignored everyone at the table and still sat beside him, coffee piping hot in her hand, and offered it without a word. how she’d known, how she’d been around enough to know, how she was simply okay with being around. sam too - more than okay.

more than okay with his corner of the studio smelling like the cinnamon hot chocolate she rarely comes over without. more than okay with spending time to grab one and have it waiting for her when she gets out of class. more than okay with knowing when she gets out that those late night drives home, happen whether they stay late in the studio or not.

they happen during the day too.

just as his arm happens to slink around her shoulders the first time as car zooms by, and starts to stay there. as people start to stare but his friends stop questioning. sam stops caring.

‘i think that’s the most color you’ve ever put on a canvas.’ “you think so?” his mom enjoys talking to him while he paints she’s one of the few who can. ‘i haven’t seen your work lately, but i’d say so. it looks nice.’ “i could paint a sunflower and you’d say it was genius.” she shrugs through the tiny screen of the video chat and sam smiles. considers painting her sunflowers and sending them back home. he knows her favorite flower though, it shines proudly on his neck each time he angles to get a look at the canvas in a better light. he enjoys the time with his mom, whether in silence or with headphones and the world blocked out.

‘sam you in here?’ he shoots a look to the door, to say ‘of course’ without saying anything, hand moving to cover the canvas in one swoop. jamie’s bounding in, iced mocha in her hand and he switches before she can give him the option to take it back. ‘were you on the phone, sorry.’ she’s approaching carefully having heard his mother’s who is that perk up from the speaker. “it’s my mom.” it’s still relatively early, so he takes the time to focus on drinking as much as he can of the coffee, knowing it might take a minute to effectively settle in the way he wants. he hasn’t decided if he’ll be here long, so he’ll stock up. he doesn’t notice jamie - who is caught in a conversation with his mother, both of them now staring at him.

‘you’d think he was 75% coffee and not water.’ “at least I don’t smell like cinnamon everyday.” ‘cinnamon chocolate and you’re the one who keeps buying it.’ “because you’re grumpy if you don’t have it.” ‘so are you!’ “great so what’s the problem.”

sam, whose been turning round and round in the easel stool, catches one glimpse of jamie’s face and has to keep twirling to prevent her from seeing his smile, lips around the coffee straw doing a good job of hiding it.

‘oh young love.’ jamie’s sputtering and sam’s laughing out loud now. “bye mom catch you later.” ‘bye, show me later!”

it’s quiet for a few moments after he hangs up. he’s packing up again but he’s mostly waiting for jamie to talk. whether she’ll mention his mom’s incessant need to embarrass him, or the pink that’s returned to her face, the whipped cream that’s still on her lips from her own drink. so sam decides to go first, snap her out of whatever thoughts have her a little too lost and out of characters. he leans forward, an attempt at wiping it off that jolts her well enough. jamie’s eyes are wide, clear, and ever as expressive. sam grins and halts his movements, close enough to reach and wipe.

close enough to -.

“you’ve got whipped cream there.”

close enough.

‘your - your mom said to show her later, is the painting done?’ she’s bouncing back, literally, bounding over to the covered canvas. she reaches to touch at the paper and sam takes her hand in his, eyes not leaving the other hand that’s packing everything else in his bag.

“not yet.”

it’s silent again. but jamie doesn’t move her hand, doesn’t say much. even when they make it out the studio and to his bike.

‘you’re not staying today.’ “you got plans?” ‘no just - hm people are staring.’

that’s when he takes the moment to look at their hands. and at the eyes that are still watching them, watching their hands more than sam fastening his helmet and his bag to the bike.

“do you care?” he asks her like he really needs to, like he doesn’t know. like he isn’t already fastening the helmet to her head and hopping on. jamie’s answer is her hands right back around his waist. ‘where are we going?’ “hold on tight.”

‘hanna thinks you’re a bad influence.’ “really? she should meet ahyeon.”

if by karma only, his tattoo artist runs the needle over a particularly tender spot.

“asshole.” is all he whispers to joon who laughs and continues. ‘sorry, gotta stick up for her.’ “for your girlfriend who’s not your girlfriend.” ‘yup.’

‘what’s the deal with that anyway?’ jamie perks up from where she’d been sitting quietly, close enough to where she can lean over and watch the next piece of his sleeve come to life. both sam and joon look over at her, joon for a second before he’s back to his work. ‘some people prefer it that way, without titles.’ ‘you think ahyeon prefers it that way?’ ‘i think if she preferred it otherwise she’d make it known.’ which, sam almost says at the same time as joon but joon’s quick and sam shuts up before he can finish. it’s the truth though, whatever it is between the two of them, ahyeon and joon, he’s long stopped questioning what it was. he can’t blame jamie for her curiosity, but he can’t blame joon for being defensive.

“ignore him, he’s ahyeon deprived and doesn’t know it, he’s been here all day.” ‘i wouldn’t be here now if you didn’t insist on getting this piece done on random.’ ‘what are you getting done?’ jamie’s back at it, this time leaning closer to sam than the tattoo. “i’m just extending the flowers on my neck to my chest.” ‘shitty date but at least you can see him shirtless.’ sam would whack joon for the comment but he knows better than to move. instead he sits back, huffing his annoyance through his nose. ‘she said she liked labels might as well call this what it is.’ “maybe i should call ahyeon since you seem to miss her so much.” instead joon’s eyes stay down, only lifting his other finger to flip sam the bird, to which he flips right back with a smile. for the moment, for several moments, jamie just watches. sometimes they don’t talk at all when he’s getting a piece done and sometimes all they do is talk. sam and joon both men of few words he’s worried a bit about jamie’s comfort level but she seems enthralled with the process, with the art itself.

‘do they all have meanings?’ she speaks up several minutes later. she’s hushed, the awe slipping into her tone. “some, not all.” ‘the ones sam designs tend to have meanings, the stuff for the fillers are mine.’ that launches them into conversations about which ones sam’s done and why. that leads them into discussions about art, about the differences in their styles, about how old the different tattoos are, stories of first ones and recent ones. the same comfort he slips in with joon, jamie slowly easing her way between them, their bickering and brash words and all. and sam knows, regardless of what he’ll label this as, he definitely likes it.

‘it’s me.’ “it is.”

he likes this too. the look on her face as she watches him put the finishing touches. as he outlines the crowd in some more grays and browns, as he adds layers to the figure that is her on the stage. he likes how easily she’s slipped into the studio and how boldly she approaches, how she can be so bold yet so bashful.

‘was this the open mic night.’ “the first one.” ‘you’ve been to more?!’

he had. once he realized where his inspiration was blossoming from. been to more than had her and some that didn’t. sat and soaked in it all, whether it was how she smiled as she spoke, how she pulled from her soul with every word, and how others did the same. the word for that was inspiration, awe, but it’s the urge past the canvas that let him know it was something more. something stuck closer to the heart. so he finally finished the painting without regrets, his image of her being a memory of much more than that night. a memory of all the times and all the colors she’s shared with him just far.

‘it’s-’ “not as good as the real deal probably.” sam’s turning again, in the easel stool, lips once again fastened around the straw of his coffee. he’d been up all night and called jamie in the minute it was finished. she’d made no objections but seemed to know he needed it as it was the first thing she handed when she walked in. “but that’s fine, i’m not too keen on letting everyone too close to the real deal.”

‘thought you weren’t into labels.’ “that depends entirely on you.” ‘what do you call this one?’ “she’s got it all.” ‘poetic, what’s she got?’

jamie’s drawing closer, sam hands now clasped around her wrist, pulling her as gently as she’ll come. smiling when her frame nudges against him, her eyes not leaving the painting.

“take a guess.”

she doesn’t move from the hold, slips her arms around his neck and lets his own slip around her waist. but jamie doesn’t move, her eyes still don’t leave the painting and sam stays quiet, lets her take it in. when she finally does look down at him, he sees in her eyes, the very thing that sparks inspiration in a starved man. the same eye smile that sparked what it did in his chest and makes him unable to let go.

‘she’s got - i’ve got - you?’ “all of, only if you want.” ‘took you long enough.’

‘still - don’t you think it’s a bit excessive?’

sam takes the moment to indulge jamie. as always. mid-sip of the coffee he’s been needing all morning barely getting to reach its destination. and he needed it - desperately. he pauses though, just for jamie. “what?” ‘the leather jacket, the piercings, tattoos?’ “it didn’t scare you did it?” ‘seriously - hanna thought you were in a biker gang.’

he takes the next few moments to think about that. not really - but he gives the impression well. the next few seconds are more so of him observing jamie, how she sits across from him, how her hands haven’t quite left his, how she doesn’t flinch when he leans over to plant a kiss on her cheek. how she deliberately leans in and gives him a glimpse of that pretty pink again. a color that not only fills his canvases now, but his thoughts.

“well, it’s a good thing I quit them early.” ‘sam.’ that earns her two more kisses and a rather hearty laugh. if this is what leather, piercings and tattoos get him, he’ll do well to keep it up for the rest of his days.

#belleavie #au.#{ w: sam. }#hm.

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shirogane-atlas · 6 years

Text

Boyfriend for a Week (Part 1)

My @voltronvalentinesexchange gift for @crystalklances You had some really awesome prompts, and my idea got a little ahead of me, so this is the opening to what will be an ongoing story. I hope you like what’s going on so far ;) Happy Valentine’s Day Robin!

Summary: Lance’s crazy ex is back in town, and what better way to get her to leave him alone than to have her think he’s dating someone else? Enter Keith, who’s taken on the brave role of Lance’s fake boyfriend for a week. Words: ~3k Rating: G

Love’s reach extends far and wide. Lance learned that the hard way, which was why he was sitting in the bleachers waiting for basketball practice to end. He’d been done with his classes for hours now and could’ve been chilling at home if it wasn’t for love. Love’s reach is so long, in fact, that it follows you across state lines even after the breakup.

The coach’s whistle sounded, and Lance looked up just in time to see the team hi-fiving and back-thumping.

“Hey Keith!” he called to the point guard who'd just started jogging off the court. Lance ignored the other players’ interested looks as Keith scrutinized him for a moment before jogging over.

“What's up, Lance?”

Keith's words were casual, but Lance thought he sounded suspicious. Or maybe Lance was just overly conscious of what he was about to say. “Will you be my boyfriend?” Wait, that came out wrong. “Just for a week!”

Keith gave no reaction other than to stare at him with a gaze that promised death. Rolo, one of the other players, was keenly watching them over Keith's shoulder, and Lance shifted to block his face with Keith's head. But that meant he now had to focus on Keith again. He was now looking bemused.

“This is why you waited for me for two hours? To make fun of me?”

“You think I'm making fun of you?”

“It's what you've done since the day we met.”

Lance thought about this for a moment. “You're right, and I'm proud of that. But that's not what this is.”

“Oh?” Keith's tone turned sarcastic, and he crossed his arms. But he was still listening. And that was all Lance needed.

“It’s Nyma. She’s gonna be in town for a week, to visit Rolo.”

“What's that got to do with me?”

“I'm getting there. I came to you because you know the whole drama and won’t judge me for this. Or, well, you probably will, but I’ll have less explaining to do than if I asked anyone else. So it’s just a matter of convenience, nothing else. And it’s just until Nyma’s staying.”

Lance caught his breath after his rambling and looked up to find Keith regarding him blankly again. “Fine,” Keith said shortly.

“Wait what? Just like that?”

Keith merely shrugged. “Text me whatever details you need to.” And before Lance could wrap his head around what had just happened, Keith was gone.

Nyma had been a transfer student to Lance’s high school in the final year, a sensation at their boring old school. And Lance had been in love. He’d gone up to her after their first class together to flirt, fully expecting a rejection, but knowing he had to try. And she’d giggled and blushed and called him cute. So he’d asked her out on the spot.

Lance went overboard at every stage of their relationship, and none of it scared her off. In hindsight, that should’ve been a red flag right there, but at the time, it had only convinced him that they were soulmates.

It had taken two whole years for Lance to accept that she was manipulative and that he wasn’t happy with her. The couple of times he’d tried getting out of the relationship, Nyma had managed to convince him to get back together. He’d waited until the second year of college to break it off for good. Even now, he knew that the only reason he hadn’t gone back to her was that they were separated by state lines.

But now she was coming back. And Lance was screwed. He knew he’d go back to her unless he could give her a reason to back off. Like if he was dating someone else. Someone tough enough that Nyma wouldn’t want to mess with.

Lance had first met Keith when he was still with Nyma, and she had come to his campus to visit him during winter break. Her cousin Rolo went to the same college as Lance and was on the basketball team. He’d invited Nyma to one of his games, and she’d brought Lance along. Keith was the team’s point guard, and Rolo introduced them. Keith and Lance had taken an almost instant dislike to each other, though Lance couldn’t really put his finger on why. He figured it was the mullet that first turned him off. And then the stuck-up attitude didn’t do the guy any favors. But why Keith disliked him so much was still a mystery to Lance.

When Lance had long-distance dumped Nyma, Rolo had very nearly picked a fight with him over it, so naturally the whole team knew about it. Lance could live with the notoriety, but he couldn’t live with the emotional drain of being Nyma’s boyfriend again. So when she texted to let him know she’d be in town again, he’d done the most rational thing he could think of. How hard could it be to pull this off? It was just pretend…. Pretend that Keith McBroody Mulletface was his boyfriend. For a week. Lance wondered if he hadn’t just dug the hole deeper trying to climb out of it.

Lance was a guy who always did things at the last possible second. He gave everything his all; it was just that he worked best under a little pressure. So it wasn’t until the morning of the day Nyma was due to arrive that he shot off a text to his new (fake) boyfriend.

>She's coming this afternoon >You need to come with me to meet her for lunch

Keith's reply was instantaneous.

>What?

>We can't just show up unprepared

>Uh >I think you're taking this too seriously ;D

>You're not taking it seriously enough. You really think she's gonna buy that we're dating if we know nothing about each other?

Lance stared at the question. Well shit.

>Well shit

>Just meet me at campus cafe in 15

>Wait what if I'm not free until later?

>Be there.

“Okay so what do we need to know about each other?” Lance asked through a mouthful of penne.

“You're asking me?” Keith marveled as he sat down across from Lance. “You've been in a relationship before. What kinds of things do you want to know about your partners?”

“The shape of their ass?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

Lance swallowed and grinned back. “I'm kidding! Okay so what's your favorite color?”

“Red.”

Lance looked at the red scarf Keith had around his neck which accented the black leather jacket. That made a lot of sense. “Cool! See now we’re getting to know each other! Now you ask me.”

“How long have you liked me?”

“What?” Had Lance been unknowingly giving off signals here? He thought he'd made it pretty clear that this was just pretend. “I'm not—”

“You do realize it's the first thing they're gonna ask us, right? Because Rolo knows we weren't together even last week when you came to see me at practice.”

Oh. Right. That was solid logic, now that Lance thought about it. “They'll wanna know how we got together, won't they?”

“And if you don't want them to see right through this, we should have stories that check out.”

“Right. Okay. So how did we get together?”

Keith fixed him with a stern glare. “You gonna make me do all the work here? I'm the one helping you.”

“Okay so when I came to see you after practice, I confessed my crush that I've been harboring ever since…” Lance looked around the cafe as if he'd find the answer among these students getting a late lunch. His eyes fixed on a girl wearing an oversized bomber jacket. “Ever since you ran into me walking back to my dorm without a jacket and gave me yours.”

Keith raised a contemplative eyebrow, gaze unfocusing for a moment, before the corners of his mouth turned up very slightly. “That's good,” he mused. “And I've liked you ever since I realized how caring and good you are under that annoying exterior.”

“Uh, thanks?” Backhanded though the compliment was, something stirred deep in Lance’s belly, and he thought it best to avoid Keith's eyes.

“This was while you were still with Nyma,” Keith continued,” so obviously I didn't do anything about it. But when you confessed to me, well, let's just say I'm a lucky guy.”

Lance nodded, committing the story of their love to memory. “I still think you should know my favorite color too.”

“Is it blue?”

“What? How did you…?”

Keith shrugged. “There's blue in your bag, your shirt, even your nail polish.”

Lance grinned. “Good eye.” His phone vibrated loudly on the table, and he looked down. “Oh shoot. Time to go!”

“We should, like, hold hands or something.” Lance wished he could stop feeling so awkward about this; he was just setting a convincing scene. He looked over at Keith to find him wearing a look of disbelief. “What?” Lance asked defensively.

“You'd be okay with everyone seeing that?”

When Lance didn't give off the impression of having understood, Keith continued,

“You aren't actually gay, right? I mean, don't get me wrong, but most straight guys don't want people thinking…you know, I mean I know you asked me for convenience but…”

Lance thought only for a second before saying, “I'm bi actually. And yeah it's fine if, people see. We're trying to convince everyone, aren't we?”

Keith went completely silent. Lance got the impression he'd blown the guy’s mind. Just as Lance was about to ask if everything was okay, warm fingers slipped into his hand, fitting perfectly. Lance had to resist the urge to squeeze; it was silly but waves of comfort washed through him from the point of contact, like everything was going to turn out fine.

They got to the pizza place on time but Nyma and Rolo weren't there yet, so they picked a table and sat down next to each other. Every moment they waited, Lance fretted a bit more. He bounced his leg, he drummed his fingers against the table, he drank the ice cold water and shivered.

“Will you relax?” an irritated voice hissed in his ear.

“You relax!” he shot back, more wound up than ever. “And do something about that hair.”

“Excuse me?”

“It's a mullet.”

“Okay, and?”

“It's 2018.”

Keith leaned closer and deadpanned, “Okay Lance, would you like me to pull out my knife and chop it off here at this table, or would you prefer I step into the bathroom for that?”

The sarcasm dripping from Keith's voice was not lost on Lance, but he had just found something more interesting to focus on. He leaned in too. “Do you seriously have a knife on you right now?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

Keith rolled his eyes. Neglecting to answer the question, he reached into his jeans pocket and took out a hair tie. Then, in front of Lance's very eyes, he tied his hair back into a low ponytail.

Lance stared before insisting urgently, “No, put it back!”

“Lance, what?”

“I can't deal with this right now!”

“I don't—”

“Hey lovebirds!” a cheery voice cut in from behind them. Nyma was here.

“Cool it with the PDA!” Rolo added with a laugh, as the two approached the table.

Lance and Keith drew apart and got up to greet them. There were hugs and greetings all around before they all sat down. At least there was no need for introductions.

Rolo offered to go get their orders, and once he left, Nyma turned eager eyes on Keith. “So, dish! Tell me all about how you two became a thing!”

“Wait for me,” Rolo called out. “I wanna hear this.”

Keith and Lance exchanged a look, and launched into their spotty story once Rolo returned.

“That’s so sweet, oh my God,” Nyma gushed. “You waited for him, Keith!”

“I didn’t have much choice,” he pointed out, reaching over to hold Lance’s hand on the table.

“You were hardcore pining,” Rolo chuckled. “I still don’t believe it. You two just seem so at odds. The only times I’ve ever seen you guys interact, it’s been nothing but bickering.”

Keith turned to Lance and smirked. Something mischievous twinkled in his amethyst eyes as he leaned closer and tilted his head. “We have our moments,” he whispered, answering Rolo but gaze fixed on Lance’s lips. His breath ghosted over Lance’s skin, but he came no closer.

Lance recognized it for what it was: an open offer. Warning signals were firing every which way in his brain; this would be taking it way further than it needed to go. But something else shot all those signals down in one fell swoop. He leaned across the couple of centimeters of distance remaining between them and pressed his lips to Keith’s in a chaste kiss.

“Hey, woah, cool it,” Rolo warned, but it was good-natured.

Keith looked away wearing an extremely smug look. And Lance really did not want to think about why his whole face was tingling, why his cheeks were on fire but his lips were ice.

“Oh, before I forget,” said Nyma, clasping her hands together, “I need to do all the touristy things while I'm here, so I booked seats on the ferry! Obviously I'm not going alone, and Lance you're the only person I know here besides Rolo, so you have to come. And of course you're welcome too Keith! But I didn't know about you beforehand so I didn't get you a ticket.” She looked sheepish as she reached the end of her eager announcement.

Keith started to reply, “It's oka—”

“I'll buy you a ticket babe,” Lance cut in. There was no way he was getting dragged onto a ferry with Nyma without a buffer.

“Thanks, babe,” Keith grinned; the smug look was back. Or maybe, it had never left.

The ferry, it turned out, was actually kind of boring. There was only so many times you could look out at a seemingly endless expanse of water in the dark before you needed something else to do. Nyma joined some impromptu dancing that had broken out, and Rolo ran into some friends.

Meanwhile, Lance and Keith ended up out on the deck, leaning against the railing and just talking. It started with Keith stepping out for some air and Lance going after him to tell him off for not putting more of an effort into his performance.

“I'm on a date with you,” he shot back, “I deserve an Oscar.”

“Um, rude! Anyway joke’s on you; they don't give Oscars for Most Unconvincing Portrayal of a Boyfriend.”

Keith snorted. “Are you serious?” He was smiling now, and Lance briefly wondered why that made him feel accomplished. “So what else should we do?” Keith asked. “Hold hands? Kiss? Make out?”

“No need to be extra.” Lance rolled his eyes, grateful that the night was dark enough to hide his rising blush. “Holding hands is fine. Kissing is good, too.”

Keith nodded sagely. “Got it.” He looked in through the windows. “Doesn't look like she's watching us right now though. It might help if we actually go inside… Anyway, I'll go get us something to drink.”

Lance was leaning against the railing waiting for Keith when Nyma stepped out and came up to him. She'd been socializing, and Lance recognized the high of human interaction in her eyes. He got that same boost of good feelings when he met new people or hung out with friends; though oddly enough, he’d felt no inclination to talk to anyone except his date all night.

“Having fun?” Nyma asked.

Lance grinned. “I really am. I can't believe it never occurred to me to do anything touristy here.”

She leaned her elbows on the railing next to him. “Hey, remember that time we went to that lighthouse together back home?”

“Yeah.” He remembered very well. “You made me climb all the way to the top and then left me there.”

Her smile turned reminiscent. “We had some good times, didn't we?”

“You left me there and took my car to go home.” Was this what she considered a fond memory of their time together?

“Look, I just want to say that I don't really like how we ended things. And I know you're not single right now, but I just need you to know that I miss you, and if you ever wanted—”

“Hey babe.” Keith had found his way back to Lance. Not having turned around fast enough, Lance was entirely unprepared for Keith to slip an arm around his waist and pull him into a deep kiss.

Lance's eyes fluttered shut, and he didn't care to open them again even though the kiss was going on way too long and Nyma was still watching. Keith was…a really good kisser.

“Uhhh, guys?” Nyma called.

Keith broke away to answer her. “Just saying hi.” He didn't let go of Lance's waist.

“I guess I'll leave you to it,” she suggested, sounding amused.

Lance only half registered her receding footsteps.

When Keith finally turned his attention back to Lance, Lance did his best not to look as dazed as he felt. “What was that?” he asked, holding back a cringe when it came out breathless.

“She was talking very animatedly,” Keith replied matter-of-factly, letting go and taking a step back, “and you looked like you were about to freak out.”

“Yeah I was probably two seconds away from caving.” He smiled when that pulled a chuckle from Keith. “Thanks, man.” Lance had completely known the entire time that the kiss was for show. It wasn't even his first kiss with Keith at this point. Now if only his heart would stop acting like he'd just ran a marathon.

#klance #sleapywrites #klance fic #klance fanfic #voltron valentines exchange

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peachylixir · 6 years

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3 Times Aizawa Smiled & 1 Time He Laughed

For the Day 2 prompts of EraserMicWeek: Smile/Jealousy AO3 Link On the Job Occasionally, when Shouta was on patrol and Hizashi couldn’t sleep, he would sit on the couch and flip to channel 4, the only local news station that would provide late-night coverage in real time. Oftentimes, there was little worthy of report, but every so often there would be a crime bust exciting enough to be covered in the reporter’s effort to get it on tv before the morning stations did. If he was extra lucky, sometimes he’d get to see a glimpse of his husband leaving the scene after saving the day.

Today was apparently one such day, for as he stared mindlessly at the tv screen, a glimpse of a long white scarf in the background caught his eye. He sat up, clutching a throw pillow and grinning stupidly. The cameraman seemed to finally notice the underground hero and zoomed in on him, providing Hizashi a clear view of the young girl Shouta was kneeling beside. She couldn’t have been older than six years old, and given the situation (a near kidnapping, according to the news), she should have been trembling with fear. And yet, she was nodding along to whatever Shouta was telling her, clutching one end of his scarf in her tiny fists. By the tilt of her blonde head, she appeared to be asking him a question. There was no audio for Shouta’s response, but the smile he gave her was so tender and reassuring that Hizashi felt his heart leap in his chest. Just as he was considering pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of the moment, it shattered as Shouta finally noticed the cameraman and abruptly stood, glaring harshly at the reporters. He turned to make his escape, but not before giving the young girl one last wave goodbye. Hizashi ended up dozing on the couch, clutching the pillow to his full heart. For a Friend Shouta was of the mindset that laughter directed as Ms. Joke never counted because she was probably throwing a bit of her quirk in the punchline. Hizashi was inclined to agree. Although, he couldn’t help but feel a little bad for her as yet another one of her jokes fell flat. Shouta was a tough audience; he himself knew that better than anyone. There was a sharp huff to his right, the beginnings of a laugh, but by the time he turned his head, Shouta’s expression was schooled back into a red eyed glare. “Aww, you’re no fun,” Emi whined. Despite her complaint, she looked largely unruffled, broad grin still plastered on her face. Hizashi would never admit that he finds it a little unnerving. “Don’t you have a show to put on?” Shouta asked rather pointedly. He gestured to the empty stage of the comedy club, sparsely decorated with a stool and a lonely microphone. She waved off his concern. “I still have some time. Will you two be staying to watch?” Shouta and Hizashi briefly exchanged glances. The latter won their silent argument easily and turned to her in bright agreement. “Of course we will, girl!” Hizashi hooted, winking at her. She pretended to swoon. “I knew I could count on my husband, but this? The support is more than my little heart can take!” she sighed, turning dramatically away from them. She snuck a glance at Hizashi, a familiar question in her eyes. “I guess this makes you my husband’s husband? My husband in law? First husband, twice removed?” Hizashi’s smile stiffened. “I’ve told you that just my name is fine.” “Great! Well, anyway I’ll be testing out some new acts tonight, so let me know what you guys think, okay?” Now that was an easy thing to agree to. Back in their U-A days, she and Hizashi had been part of the Theatre Club together. Though she preferred to audition for comedies, they both shared a flair for the dramatic that had made them great stage companions. They would spend hours after school practicing their lines together, and when Shouta eventually joined them in their second year in the form of stage crew, he became their test audience. Fond memories and genuine encouragement warmed the blond’s tone when he told her, “Break a leg.” Her grin was nearly blinding as she shot some finger guns back at him. “Bust a gut.” It wasn’t until halfway through her routine, when the crowd was agreeable and her cheeks were flushed from the spotlight, that Hizashi noticed it. She was telling a story about a time she got chased down four city blocks by a lapdog. He heard a soft huff to his left. There, in the dim lighting of the comedy club where it was impossible for anyone to see, Shouta was smiling, looking somehow both amused and tender at once as he gazed up at their old friend. Hizashi’s heart twists, wrapping itself around the complicated emotions he’s always held towards Emi as redirects his gaze towards the stage. Just Between Them Shouta’s reasons for not liking Toshinori had always been a little hazy. He never really went into explicit detail about his distaste for the proclaimed Symbol of Peace, even with Hizashi, because he was never the type to speak ill of someone behind their back, but he said enough to imply that they had a fundamental disagreement in teaching styles. Still, dangerous experiences brought people together; heroes were no exception. So it came as no surprise that Shouta warmed up to Toshinori after the USJ incident and even moreso after the learned of his true form. What was surprising however was how well they seemed to get along now. Still not best friends by any stretch of the imagination, but Shouta went out of his way to invite the new teacher places, extending a welcome whenever some of the faculty went out for lunch. In return, Toshinori seemed to seek out Shouta for teaching advice and generally amiable conversation whenever Shouta seemed to be in a pleasant enough mood to tolerate idle chatter. Hizashi was genuinely happy about this development. A strong advocate for teamwork and getting along with others, it pleased him to see his husband playing nice with other heroes, especially in such tumultuous times as U-A faced. That didn’t quash the tendrils of jealousy rearing up from his gut when he saw them together. During third period one day, Hizashi was planning on giving his class a pop quiz, but as he passed them out, he realized he was a few copies short. Giving his class a stern look, he made them promise to sit quietly while he ran to make more. As he skidded into the teacher’s lounge, he overhead voices speaking in quiet tones. As he awakened the copy machine from sleep mode, he glanced up to see Shouta and Toshinori loitering by the coffee machine. They seemed to be deep in conversation, though about what he couldn’t tell from there. A few button presses later and the copy machine was whirring to life. Figuring he had a minute until the copies were complete, he decided to say hello. “Yo, Eraser! All Might,” he called, wiggling his fingers when they turned at the sound of his voice. “Ah, good morning, Present Mic,” Toshinori replied with a polite nod of his head. His respectful mannerisms seemed so at odds with his larger than life hero persona, but it was a lot better than being obnoxiously rude like Endeavor. “Morning, Mic.” The copier begins to spit out at its usual slow, only sometimes reliable pace. Hizashi tapped his fingers impatiently against the machine. “Sooo,” he drawled, eyeing their proximity. Shouta usually didn’t like standing so close to people if he could help it. “What were you two talking about over there?” It was an innocent question, or at least it should have been, but then the strangest thing happened: the two pros shared a furtive glance. Toshinori seemed flustered the way he always did when trying to come up with a lie, and Shouta looked markedly amused, the corners of his lips turned up in a smile. “Nothing really. Just discussing a few of my students,” Shouta told him easily, waving off the inquiry. Logically, Hizashi knew that it probably involved Toshinori’s obvious favorite, Midoriya. Jealousy wasn’t rational though, so he turned away to hide the ugly twist to his lips. “Ah, of course!” He replied neutrally, snatching up his still warm quizzes. “Well, I have a class to return to, so gotta jet. See ya guys later!” If he slammed the door behind him on the way out, well, then it couldn’t be helped. Love & Laughter “What’s wrong?” Hizashi looked down to find Shouta staring at him, head resting comfortably on his chest as they lay in bed, legs tangled together. “What makes you think something’s wrong, babe?” Shouta released a huff of frustration. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been tense all week.” Hizashi grimaced. In hindsight, he should have known better than to expect to hide something from his partner, but he was still ashamed of himself for being so obvious about it. A small part of it recognized Shouta’s perception as a show of affection, a sign that he knew him well and cared enough to notice when something was wrong. The thought soothed him. “It’s just… I’ve been thinking, right?” He started, speaking slowly to stall for time while he chose his next words. “When we first met, I used to make you laugh all the time. In fact, sometimes it felt like no one else in the world could make you smile as much as I did.” There was a curiosity to Shouta’s answering hum, but all he said was, “That’s not how I remember it, but sure.” “Maybe not,” Hizashi conceded. “But that’s how it felt to me. I considered it a huge success whenever I got you to crack a smile.” “Where are you going with this?” Hizashi blew out a puff of air and ran his fingers over his lover’s scalp. He spent a minute carefully picking out the words he wanted to use before deeming them all useless; he blurted out instead, “I’m a little jealous at how you’ve been smiling at literally everyone but me lately.” Shouta stared at him. “Seriously?” “Yeah.” He sat up, adjusting himself so that he was seated comfortably on his partner’s lap. “Seriously, Hizashi?” he repeated, lips twitching. “I already said it once, Shouta. Please don’t make me repeat myself,” he grumbled, twisting his face into a pout even as his arms wrap around Shouta’s waist. “You just don’t get how valuable your smiles are.” “Apparently not.” The muscles in his cheeks jumped as he tried his damnedest to suppress his laughter. Even if it was at his own expense, Hizashi couldn’t help but admire the expression. “Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing you get along with other people because it just proves to the world that you’re really the big softie I know you to be-” A snort escaped Shouta. “Tell that to the kids at school.” Hizashi huffed. “That’s different. That’s just… strategic meanness. Tough love is still a kind of love.” “Perhaps, but we’re getting a little off-topic now, ‘Zashi. Quit stalling.” “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He sighed, burying his face in the crook of his husband’s neck. “I don’t mean to get jealous,” he mumbled in the warm skin beneath his lips. “I know it isn’t logical and I know you hate irrational things, but I can’t help that I feel it sometimes. Your smile means a lot to me, and I just feel like I haven’t gotten to see it as much as I used to. I want to be the one who puts it back on your face. I want to know that I’m making you happy.” Shouta body shuddered in his lap, but Hizashi barely had time to feel confused when he heard a hearty burst of laughter escape his husband’s chest. “Wha-?” He pulled back just enough to stare in wonder as Shouta laughed hysterically, rare tears appearing as specks at the corner of his eyes as he shook with mirth. Hizashi wanted to feel offended, to ask what was so funny, but he couldn’t find any anger in him when the love of his life had such pure… joy on his face. Eventually, Shouta calmed enough to speak, gently cradling Hizashi’s face in his hands as he spoke. “You idiot,” he said fondly. “How can you ever doubt that you make me happy?” Hizashi felt his cheeks flush under Shouta’s unwavering gaze. “Next time you feel those irrational feelings, I want you to remember this moment, so that you can fight those doubts. I love you, Hizashi. You make me happy, and you always have. I may not always show it externally because well, that just isn’t me. The idea that other people make me happier than you is laughable. Don’t you ever forget that, got it?” He punctuated his statement with a firm press of their lips, as though he could push all his love and reassurance through to his husband’s thick skull. Hizashi’s hand came to rest at the back of his head to deepen the kiss. By the time they pulled away, both men were beaming.

#maizawa #erasermic #erasermicweek2018 #my fics

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ramblingsofwren · 4 years

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GENIUS #2: A Quiet Apocalypse

Hey look, another vaguely post-apocalyptic story that centered around a pandemic happening. Harsher in hindsight, anyone?

In all seriousness, this was written for the 2019 GENIUS Olympiad, way before COVID happened. Please don’t compare my fictional pandemic to this very real pandemic. And if descriptions of kenopsia, isolation, and a dangerous plague hit a little too close to home right now, you might want to skip this one. It’s okay, I get it.

***

Walking alone through formerly busy places is a very strange thing.

Downtown is empty, even though it's a sunny afternoon and by all accounts it should be packed at this hour. Normally, there's everything you would expect from a rural small town on a Saturday: the farmer's market, the unruly children at the playground, the gossipy PTA moms casting judgmental glances at the teenagers, the elderly folks from across the way discussing their grandkids under the gazebo. Nothing dangerous, nothing life-threatening, just the average bits and pieces of small-town life.

It's still like that, almost. Old music still plays on a loop from a speaker underneath the awning of a bakery, a repetitive, lazily written track by a long-dead pop sensation whose voice I vaguely recognize but whose name I can't remember. The posters for last year's school play still flutter in the afternoon breeze; I guess nobody ever bothered to take them down. On the corner next to the florists' there's a Girl Scout cookie booth, one opened, empty cardboard box of Thin Mints sitting sadly in the center amongst the dying rose petals from the Valentine's Day decorations. It's just like it's always been, except different.

I don't think I've ever really visualized this town changing. It's always seemed so stagnant to me. Everything pretty much stays the same in places like these, which I feel is kind of their appeal. It's quaint and quiet and archaic and cute, and people don't have to worry about changing politics or a rapidly approaching future. That's why they find places like these charming. The past still lives in small towns, while the rest of society moves too fast to keep up with. So while I knew, logically, that this town is just as real and present in the world as any other, I never really took that to heart. I preferred to pretend that this place is just a separate little bubble from the rest of America, sealed off and special, immune to any outside influence.

I wish that were true. If any bad thing was to happen to anyone, I assumed it would happen some place far away from my little slice of Arcadia. I guess that was kind of idealistic, in retrospect.

Beyond the bakery is a convenience store that's been looted too many times to count, but sometimes if you really scavenge around you can get lucky. Most of the useful stuff—cough drops, cold medicine, all the drugs in the pharmacy—have been gone for a while, but the other things, like beauty supplies and children's toys, are strewn about the shelves, displaced but not stolen yet. I take what I can, just because you never know when something will come in handy. Then I notice a bright pink roll of Hubba Bubba bubblegum lying underneath the price-check kiosk. I brush the dust off with my jacket and tuck it into my pocket. My brother used to really like this stuff, so I'd always get some for him when I went here. He's been gone for a while now, but it feels wrong to just leave it here, so I've taken to collecting bubblegum.

There's nobody in the store to scan anything anymore, and even if there were, it isn't like money means anything anyway. Funnily enough, I still feel kind of guilty about just pocketing the stuff. I've done a lot of awful things in the past few years, but stealing gum from an abandoned drugstore still weirds me out. Go figure.

I return to the street again, loot in hand, and continue wandering aimlessly through the remnants of downtown. I still look two ways before crossing the street, even though I don't think there's anyone left to hit me, and even if by some miracle they were still alive, they wouldn't have the gasoline to drive a car. I stop to read the community events flyers, even though the dates are in what may as well be the distant past, and even if things were still the same, I'd have no interest in the free yoga classes at the Rec or the Jump Rope for Heart fundraiser at the local elementary school. I browse the magazine rack in the hairdresser's, look at the pamphlets tacked up to the church's bulletin board, pretend like I care about all this even though there's nobody really left to see me. It's more the principle of the thing. Then I come across the graveyard completely by accident, even though that's where I meant to go in the first place.

The graves aren't very well made. It all happened so quickly that no one really had the chance to make funeral arrangements, and near the very end of it all, there was almost nobody left to even care about the dead. I tried to remember where each person was buried, but that got too complicated, so now the only graves I really remember are those of my own friends and family.

My brother lies at rest in between my father and my mother, who went before him. I've left his stuff on his grave, mostly because I don't want him to haunt me if his presence somehow finds out that I touched his PS4 after his death. Those last few days of his life, that's pretty much all he told me: "Don't touch my stuff when I'm gone!" I think he knew he was dying; they all did, except for me apparently.

I leave the bubblegum against the poorly-made wooden cross with his name written on it in Sharpie. Then I pick some dandelions and leave them there, too, just because putting flowers on a grave seems like the right thing to do. I wouldn't know. I've never been good at this type of thing, but maybe it's better now that there's no grieving family to awkwardly talk to except for myself.

It doesn't really get easier. I try to pretend it does, but it doesn't. The deaths of everyone you've ever known in a matter of weeks isn't something that can ever be dealt with, especially when their manner of death was so violent and painful and utterly preventable. It still makes me angry to think about, because it's such a stupid way for an apocalypse to happen that it all feels like some type of cosmic joke.

I remember reading about it the newspapers when it first started happening. I forget the name of the disease, it was some long Latin-y thing like pretty much every name we had to memorize in Bio class. Everyone I knew pretty much just called it the disease; we all knew what it meant. And it began in the most ridiculous way possible—a bat. Someone destroyed the bat's habitat, they were forced to live closer to humans, a bat bit a human, and... well, the story writes itself from there, doesn't it?

I still find it astronomically unlikely and kind of insane, in truth. Such a simple thing led to such graphic consequences. What are the odds that cutting down one stretch of forest causes a butterfly effect that ends in an apocalypse in a matter of months? I used to think nothing bad could ever happen here in this town, and now everyone and everything I've ever loved about it is dead all because someone got too careless with a bat on the other side of the world. It's like one of those awful time travel movies where going back in time messes up the future, except this isn't our dystopian future nightmare. It's just my disappointing reality.

I just wish there's something I could do about it, but the truth is that the mistakes that caused this to happen weren't my fault, and they happened so long ago that there's nothing anyone today can really do about them, anyway. It wasn't really just one guy cutting down a tree where he wasn't supposed to. It was something bigger than that. And I think the biggest problem is that none of our forefathers, none of the people responsible for the mistakes that led to the death of most of civilization, had any idea what they were doing until it was too late to change it. They weren't the ones who felt the ramifications of their irresponsible policies and ecologically dangerous practices... the consequences of their actions fell to the next generation.

So here I am, eternally trapped in the remnants of a town that died years ago, surrounded by innocent people who suffered because of their ancestors' mistakes, watching the world around me slowly rot away in the absence of the people who made it great. I'd love to say we can still change it, but the time for change is long gone. Now it's not a matter of changing the world, it's a matter of trying to live through its collapse.

I rise slowly from the ground near my brother's gravestone. I take another look around the churchyard, at the names on the tombs. Then I gather my bag again and walk back through the streets, still empty, still lonely, stuck in a snapshot of last February before the end of the world hit and we could all still pretend nothing bad ever happened in our little town.

I walk alone, the last person left at the end of the world.

#genius olympiad submissions #tw: pandemic #sci-fi

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ademonandherbentley · 7 years

Text

Copacetic

Post Craig’s Good Ending. Smashley accepts an invite to a cul-de-sac get together, eager to finally meet the person who’s taken her vacated spot in Craig’s heart. Craig x Dadsona ft. Hugo x Damien. ~2k.

A/N: The mildest of spoilers for Craig’s route. Entirely inspired by @mythicalmodernity‘s theories about college!Craig-MC-Ashley.

D/N = Dadsona’s Name

Joseph’s yard was already bustling by the time Ashley pulled up at the end of the drive. As soon as she climbed out of the car Briar and Hazel came bounding up to her; each was gabbling over the other as they jumped into her arms and she tried not to drop them.

“Woah woah, girls! Come on, you know I’m not your father, I can’t bench press you both.”

They let go, and she knelt down to pull them into a bear hug. It had barely been two weeks since she’d seen them last, but they were still in that stage where they were growing almost before her eyes.

“Now girls, mom’s had a long drive and needs to take advantage of Mr. Christansen’s excellent grillmanship, but after that you gotta catch me up on all the gossip, yeah?”

“Ernest’s dad and Lucien’s dad have been going on dates!” Hazel burst out. Clearly she’d been waiting a long time to break that news to someone new.

Briar hit her sister on the arm, “Shhh, we’re not supposed to know about that!”

“But they’re so obvious about it!” Hazel said indignantly. Ashley scanned the crowd and spotted Hugo and Damien by the food table. They were, indeed, cosied up rather more intimately than she was used to seeing from them.

She grinned and ruffled Hazel’s hair, “If they tell me I’ll act surprised. Maybe you should too, huh? Now where’s your dad and your sister? I should say hi before I dive into the snacks.”

Briar pointed over the opposite side of the yard where Craig was deep in conversation with another man. They were laughing about something, but even from a distance Ashley could see something in Craig’s smile that went deeper than some funny joke.

She pulled her girls in close, “So is that him? Your dad’s new friend?”

“He’s his boyfriend,” said Hazel.

“Not yet he isn’t. They’re just hanging out together,” Briar said.

Hazel scoffed, “Yeah. That’s what dad says.“

"Ah, you know girls,” Ashley said, “You’ll find when you get older sometimes the difference between friend and boyfriend isn’t as obvious as you once thought.”

“Amanda says she saw them kissing,” Hazel offered.

Briar wrinkled her nose, “Eeeewww!”

Ashley laughed and stood back up, “Go on girls; run along and we can talk properly later.”

They twins dashed off across the yard and Ashley made a beeline for Craig, saying hellos and exchanging pleasantries as she went. It had been almost two decades since she’d last seen D/N. God, where had the time gone? It felt like not even last year she’d been running rings around frat boys and watching her boyfriend eat his body-weight in tacos. Now here they all were – responsible adults and parents.

Craig spotted her as she drew closer and waved her over with a grin. D/N turned to her with a slightly less confident smile.

“Smashley! How you doing?” Craig pulled her in for a one-armed hug and she felt herself squish against his rock-solid chest. She’d never gone for the jock types back in college but man, Craig worked it.

“I’m good bro. And how’s my little darling?” She reached out and took River from Craig’s other arm. River gurgled happily. “Oh, you just get bigger ever day don’t you? Your gonna take after your daddy and be huge when you grow up!”

River giggled. God, she could stare at this kid for hours. “You’re not allowed to grow up, you hear me? I couldn’t stop your sisters, but your going to stay my little bean forever. Deal?” She took Rivers tiny hand and shook it. There – no take backs.

Craig cleared his throat, “So Ashley, you uh… you remember D/N right?”

Ashley finally turned her attention away from River. “Course I do. It’s been too long, man, how’ve you been?” She landed a friendly punch on his arm. He held his ground, but he had the look of a hedgehog caught in an unexpected blast of noise. She bit back a smile. Poor kid had never been great with people.

“I’ve been good,” he smiled, recovering slightly, “what about you? I hear the business is really taking off.”

“We were talking about signing D/N on as a model for us,” Craig told her, “Figure we’d pull in more customers if we went down the dad bod angle.”

Ashley barked a laugh, “You gonna let him insult you like that, bro?”

D/N chuckled, “I mean he’s not wrong.”

“See?” Craig said, “Self-awareness. Something you always sucked at.”

“Nothing wrong with a little bit of healthy denial, my dude.”

“Yeah, denial. Not delusion.” Craig reached out to poke her belly and she swatted his hand away. “How do you think I got custody of the girls? Who knows what you’d fill their heads with.”

Ashley looked at D/N, “Hope he’s not this rude to you.”

D/N’s look of bewildered panic was starting to creep back in. She decided to take pity on him, and handed River back to Craig with a kiss to her forehead, “Go check on the girls for me?”

Craig nodded and left, and Ashley took D/N’s elbow. “Walk with me dude.”

They walked around the side of the house and through the passage to the back garden. Everyone was still socializing out front so they had the Christiansen’s beautifully tended flowerbeds to themselves.

Ashley was the first to break the silence. “Do you think they hire a gardener or is this their handiwork?”

“It’s the kind of thing Joseph would be good at,” D/N said, “doesn’t seem Mary’s style. But… well, she’s surprised me before.”

“She pull the drunken floozy act on you too, huh?”

D/N looked at her in surprise, “You too?”

“Believe it bro.”

“When?”

“Couple of years back, when Craig and the girls first moved here. Poor woman, she seems to have a lot going on.”

“Hmm.” D/N fell silent. Ashley couldn’t tell if it was the silence of someone with nothing to say, or someone who didn’t know how to start. She observed him out of the corner of her eye: he was older (weren’t they all?) but she could still see the guy who had impulsively stolen a goldfish for Craig when they were teenagers.

He cleared his throat, “So… how are… things? With you?”

She stopped walking, and turned him round to fully face her, “D/N, things don’t need to be weird between us ‘cause you’re dating my ex-husband.”

His brow furrowed, “Really? Seems like that’s exactly the kind of thing two people who haven’t seen each other since college would wanna be weird about.”

“If things were different with me and Craig, maybe. What’s he told you about our situation?”

“He’s used the word copacetic,” D/N said.

Ashley chuckled, “He’s a smart boy these days.”

“No kidding.”

“He wasn’t lying to make you fell better or anything like that. We really are fine.”

“Are you sure?” The frown is back, “Craig said you only divorced last year.”

“Officially,” Ashley said, “but it was one of those, you know? Relationship was over way before the marriage. Honestly no one was more surprised than us when we had River.”

D/N smiled wryly, “Last throws of a dying relationship, huh?”

"Pretty much. But in the end it’s all about the girls, isn’t it? River’s too young to remember any of this, but Hazel and Briar… They’re the priority.”

“Of course. They’re lucky to have two such loving parents.”

Ashley felt herself blush. “Thanks. We do our best. And hey, the more the merrier, right?”

She clapped D/N on the back and he squeaked in surprise.

“Uh,” he stammered, “we’re, we’re not really – I mean – It… it’s only been a few weeks. And Craig’s been trying to focus more on himself for once.”

Ashley nodded thoughtfully, “I thought he looked more relaxed. Good for him. And you, though I dunno how you talked him into it. Lord knows I never could.” To tell the truth she hadn’t been much better when they were married. The girls came before everything, but occasionally work had come before Craig.

D/N said, “I think a missing sleeping bag played a part somehow.”

Ashley roared with laughter. “That sly little shit. Don’t tell me, he hikes you out into the middle of nowhere and then it’s all 'woah looks like you forgot your sleeping bag bro! Guess we’ll have to snuggle for warmth bro! Oh gosh bro, is that my tongue in your mouth?’”

“He do that to you too?” D/N sounded scandalized, but amusement was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Nah, but it is one of the oldest in the book.” She carried on laughing. “Our boy’s never been great at just saying how he feels, has he? Took him months to work up the guts to ask me out.”

“It is pretty obvious in hindsight.” He allowed himself a small, fond smile.

“He ever totally accidentally spill water on himself, forcing him to take his shirt off in front of you?”

“No. I’ll be on my guard for it.”

“Good man.”

They both calmed themselves as they wandered round the far end of the garden. Ashley coughed and looked over at D/N.

“Seriously, man. I’ve spoken to Craig a couple of times over the past few weeks. He’s happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. Briar and Hazel have noticed it too. The two of you might not be serious yet, but… If Craig has any say in it then you will be.”

D/N blushed and smiled. “Obviously Craig is his own person, but… I’m sure the Smashley Seal of Approval would mean a lot to him.”

“Well you got it. It’s been a long time man, but you were a great friend to Craig back in the day. I’ve not forgotten that. All I ask is you be good to him like that again. And you be good to the girls.”

“Oh, I think the girls are more than a match for me.”

“Damn straight. I raise 'em hardy, you know.”

D/N laughed, then became serious. “I… I like Craig a lot. I just want him to be happy. Whatever he needs to find that.”

“Then you and me are gonna be just fine.” Ashley held out her fist. D/N hesitated, then reached out and returned the fistbump with a grin.

Up the other end of the garden the other guests were milling in from the yard and forming a loose scrum around the grill. The smell of cooking meat tinged with lighter fluid reached them, and Ashley’s stomach rumbled as if abruptly remembering the long drive.

Craig came into view chatting to a small ginger child, River on one hip. He glanced over and spotted them, and a second later a radiant smile was spilling across his face as he beckoned D/N over. Something almost like wistfulness curled in Ashley’s chest. He’d never looked at her quite like that – which, on reflection, should perhaps have been their first clue.

“Come on,” she looped an arm around D/N, “let’s go get our burger on. Oh, and I meant to ask, how’s Amanda? She settling in to college alright?”

“She and a group of friends crashed a fancy art event,” D/N said, “they ate a whole bunch of food and tried to pass themselves off as critics before getting kicked out.”

“She takes after her father then?”

“Yes, which unfortunately means I have no authority to tell her off for anything she might do.”

“Could you tell her off for anything anyway? That’s not my experience of teenagers.”

He’s shrugged in acknowledgment, “I can at least say that for a while I tried.”

“Ha! Whatever makes you happy. So aside from being a public nuisance how’s she doing? Craig said she was a photography major?”

D/N told her all about Amanda’s college exploits as they headed back up the garden. Talking about his daughter seemed to light something up in him – the last of his awkwardness was smothered by his evident pride, and Ashley smiled to herself. Her family was in good hands. He might not even need the 'hurt them and I’ll kill you’ talk, though she was sure that once she had a few whiskeys in her he’d be getting it anyway.

They reached the others, and she let D/N peel off and rejoin Craig while she helped herself to a burger and tracked down Briar and Hazel. She found them on the grass with Mat’s kid (Carmensita? Or something? Man, she really needed to get all these names straight) and sat with them.

“So, girls, mom’s ready to hear all the gossip. And then I wanna know about school and softball and everything else, yeah?”

“Is D/N dad’s boyfriend then?” asked Hazel.

“Oh, it’s ’D/N’ is it? Whatever happened to 'Amanda’s Dad’?”

“He’s told us to call him that,” Briar insisted. Hazel nodded.

“Does he tell all the kids to call him that?”

They both hesitated. Then Briar nodded reluctantly.

“He’s doesn’t kiss the other dads though.”

Ashley stifled a laugh, “I certainly hope not. Well, listen girls, you certainly didn’t hear it from me, but I think dad would very much like D/N to be his boyfriend.”

“I knew it!” Briar exclaimed.

“Shut up, Bri, we all knew it.”

“Now now, girls. Are you going to fill me in on the gossip or not?”

That distracted them sufficiently, and Ashley allowed herself to turn all her focus to her daughters.

D/N would be part of the family in no time.

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one-more-for-the-sky · 6 years

Text

[01/12/18, Friday]

its day 11 it started out rocky again due alarm problems. what the hell! it's been ringing at 850! im supposed to be out the door by 850 or sooner but 850 is definitely the latest i can leave the house that i could speed into work. but mom needed me to come home anyway (yeah i work for my mom. its good work and i take it seriously and anyone who wants to look down on me for it can suck it; i'm doing the best i can right now with all the coliding mental stuff. i'll talk about later on in this entry) John left some of his notes on a certain issue one of our clients is having at the house and i picked them up. kind of lucky there. we loligagged a little. i took out our new pet bunny. she's surprisingly very cuddly for a bunny. i have no prior bunny experiences mind you but still. not what i expected from a large rodent. or any rodent or smaller than a cat like animal. my gliders are certainly not that well behaved though i don't expect it either, energetic and lithe creatures that they are. still she is more endearing than i anticipated. i still am not very fond of rabbits but this one is okay. we chatted for a minute about my baby sister's room. and i was off with the notes and to grab john some water and get gas (not in that order). fridays are my favorite because its a slow day and people generally dont bother me much.

the last bits of yesterday where kind of exhausting and i find myself really challenged by the excuitive function disorder i have. i kept thinking about where i want to put this or that and thought to myself, just do it! but ultimately didn't. i rewarded myself too early. to my credit, i was exhausted. but still. today i will try to work first THEN reward myself. it is a habit of mine and it enables my EFD (excuitive function disorder). so basicly i just played a lot of video games yesterday.

i just feel jittery and unfocused for right now. hopefully it will change.

the house is a mess of laundry. i am sensing a much needed "20 minutes of cleaning" (read: 120 minutes of cleaning) from mom which is a chance for attitude from everyone. not excited. so when i get home, i'll definitly clean first. i think i'll start with tiding up the dinning room because that's really how you can tell if the house is in dire straits. If the dinning room is messy then it is time for a family cleaning session. i didn't even make the mess. i would agree to cleaning the kitchen or do the laundry but nothing else, but that's not going to fly, really. i should either start in the music room or the dinning room... Probably the dinning because you see it when you walk in and its the most visible eye sore, and then the dinning and move to the kitcheny part the den, the den i'll leave to vannah and mom. savannah's stuff is littered across the floor and even for me, its agrovating to look at. but i have to remind myself that my baby sister is probably worse of than me when it comes to EFD and adhd. there is definitly going to be a fight about that, i can feel it. i hope im wrong though.

mom suggested i log what i end up eating. at the time, i was offended by the suggestion. sounds silly but you have to keep in mind the historical obsession about my weight and food intake my mother has expressed over the years, sense i was small and still very impressionable. i still don't really know what to make of it, all the dietary routine changes i was mad to go though and shamed for. i was 13! 14! 15! I was young and still growing. i was in an important part of my developing as a person and myself worth, and what did i learn? that im too thick. i didn't really think i was at the time, but how can i say no to the person driving me around and im not in charge of my destination? it was wholy unfair... im not really saying that this is the root of all my self-esteam issues but it didn't help. not only did my peers see me as imperfect and flawed, so did my family. its hard to think about. i try to forget. so therefore the suggestion of working out, of listing what i eat or anything else by mom is offensive initially. in hindsight, yeah it a good idea. i just hate to admit it because of the implications.

speaking of my peers, my social/educational/school experience in childhood? fucking. awful. about the time i was in 3rd grade i really started to notice people didn't like me much. i can't remember much else than that. i know i wasn't a popular person in 1st or 2nd grade and i'm not even going to count kindergarden, but 3rd grade is where most of my memory begins. my teacher didn't even like me then. said i was a trouble maker and a bad person. not to me, but she made the mistake of saying that to my mother. why did she say that? because i decided i was going to clean up the class room. she said i was a manipulitive little trouble maker for cleaning her class room. this is were my earliest descriminations against me and my adhd and learning disablities really begins and i remember it. forget about my peers for a moment; my teacher hated me for reasons i didn't even know or understand. i wasn't even that hyperactive like some with adhd, but i did have an issue with attention and being a little disruptive with my best friend. at the time, pokemon was the new wild thing and i was utterly obsessed my friend was too, but that was my doing. instead of paying attention, we were playing. i was just a kid being a kid. when it came to start doing the standardized state testing, no one explicitly stated how important these tests were. i seem to remember someone saying that they were just practice and didn't count towards a grade and i thought oh okay, so its okay to mess up. so much so, i chrismas treed the whole thing. the whole goddamn thing, i just put in random bubbles just because i wanted it done and out of the way of whatever. well. that was the catalyst to a lot of issues i had from then on. without the consent of my mother or any discussion to anyone, they placed me and my friend in a "special ed" class, where you basically just colored stuff and glued stuff together and what not. i was in this class for half of a year before our parents found out and were enraged. upon finding out, they rained hot fiery war upon the school, they tried to cover it by saying how worried they were, that weren't sure i could even read. they didn't do any testing. they didn't ask me or my mother anything. long story short, that's a lot of school i missed. it put me behind in reading for years until i was in 7th grade. from there i struggled because of the things i missed out on because a teacher didn't like the disabled child they were responcible for. i think about that a lot. i think about all the late nights being screamed at because i wasn't doing well and struggled in elementry school things. i remember certain things my mom did that i dont really wish to describe, but while school was a battle sometimes going home was worse. it wasn't always like that, but if mom was in a mood, it went there.

my peers were really no better. a throughout, i was very much picked on because i really liked certain things, and they were my hyperfixations. and i was weird and my teeth were wrong. some of my favorite things ive been called when in elementry school: a cockroach, r-slur, someone said they humped me (they didn't but it was still humiliating), called me useless, made fun of my teeth, made fun of me because i made eye contact with people by saying i had a crush on anyone i looked in the eye (it mortified me as a kid because i definitely did not like any of those assholes, i still struggle with this), i was told that 9/11 was my fault, people tried to cut my hair, people stole from me, spat on me.... it was rough. i'm going to stop talking about it for now.

mom, if you're reading this, then you're probably thinking wow, is this really all i think about? or wow i guess im just a terrible awful mom (or some reverse guilt trippin thing you tend to do to try and make me feel bad for validating myself and addressing what you do that hurts me, even though you're the adult and primarily in control of our relationship) or also wondering why i never talk like this about my father. my father doesn't know me. i am my dad's only child and all he knows about me is that im gay, what i went to college for, and basic likes and dislikes. beyond that, my dad doesn't know me. maybe its the same for my sisters and everyone else but im my dad's only child. i have no competition with him for attention.

i've also have been thinking about myself growing up and my relationship with my sisters. full disclosure: i was not as nice to my sister sabrina as i am today. i was mean. i acknowledge it and think about it all the time. i mean, i was no more a kid myself, but i wasn't nice at all. i didn't even think nicely of her. and worse, i was nicer to savannah than i was her, and im sure that killed her a bit. mom would talk, beg, for me to be nicer. i wasn't like her abusive sister, but it felt like i was taking notes. in part, i blame society and media for what learned about being a sibling. most media i saw and consumed growing up, siblings hated each other, were mean to each other and competed against one another for attention, even in cartoons, that's what i picked up on, and internalized, obviously. my parents obviously didn't do anything to reassure me of that not happening, but i can shoulder some of the responsibility. i have to keep reminding myself, and others that i was just only 8 or 9 or 10 when my sister was born and i already had all these thoughts in my head but by the time i was 13-14-15, it starts to be a combined effort of me and my parents and upon 16-17-18, i made little to no move to change my ways. i sincerely regret it now. after college and being apart from my family for so long and learning powerful lessons on what stands against the grains of time the strongest, family - particularly my sisters - became the centerpiece of my life. in college i met some interesting people, but the most notable thing i remember hearing from some of them, was how much they hated their siblings, younger or older or otherwise. just hated them for whatever reason. im not sure what exactly i thought, except that i was tired of listening to people act like this and that i had sounded like this too. and after failing some classes and being abandoned by friends, i realized the most important connection i could make was to my siblings. from the moment i decided to stop bad-mouthing them, i embraced them, their quirks, and loved them with everything i had. i still get aggravated with them ofc bc yaknow, nothings perfect, but they were perfect as they were. all i wanted and still want to do is spend time with them. i constantly think on how i was when i was growing up, especially for my little sister sabrina. i wasn't kind, as if the i didn't even know the word. i apologize a lot for it. every so often, i take her aside to talk to her about it. im still afraid to full acknowledge just how much damage i might've caused, but its still my responsibility to make it right and to mend it. sabrina, bless her, tells me not to worry, that she understands, that she doesn't remember a lot, except for a few things that make me cringe at myself. i apologize a lot. even now i am still sorry. i hope i am making up for it. i hope she doesn't grow to resent me, as i likely deserve. i love her so much i just want her to be happy and fulfilled and safe. i hate myself for how i was.

and i worry. a lot. its not exactly the same, theres a lot of different aspects to their dynamics, but i sometimes see myself in how sabrina acts towards savannah and it worries me. savannah is a lot less forgiving. a lot closer to bina's age and therefore harder to impress later on should sabrina change her tune. they both go at it though. savannah gives as much sabrina does, and especially so that she's 13 and moody as 13 year old typically are. all the same, i feel like the example i led has won out to the example i try to lead now and it frightens me. i want all 3 of us to be close. for all we've suffered together, to be alone in the world once our parents are gone frightens the shit out of me. more than anything, i want us to remain close. all three of us. i worry a lot about our relationship with each other...

anyway, so yeah i'm currently living with and working for my parents. i do take the work seriously even if doesn't look it and im proud of my (few) acomplishments. and living with them has its ups and downs. it feels good on hand to start from the ground up on how to like. live. how to be a person. or something. sorry i know i was going to go into this, but the previous topic got me down a little. i'm changing the subject.

my desk came in early, and im excited to put it together. can't wait really.

eh. i'm bumbed. will consider the listing of foods i eat.

peace.

#journal tag #text

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theweetravellingfamily · 7 years

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Day 5

Day 5 travelling from London to Wales. Our luggage has already blown out to the size of a AC/DC’s tour bus and entourage- no way we were catching the tube with all of it. Order mini van which arrives on time in the morning with the driver looking rather perplexed at the sheer enormity of our rock star entourage - including screaming girls. Jordan does his packing Tetris routine and we are off to the train. Get on the train after 10 minutes of piling our luggage in (lucky we got there early) and off to Liverpool to pick up our heir cars. Baby starts screaming half an hour into 3 hour journey and I start to realise the amazing day with daddy day care has dissipated and we are firmly back into mums nightmare. Seriously what is up with that? Dad paces train with said screaming baby who finally falls asleep. Get to Liverpool and Jords, baby and I head out to John Lennon airport to pick up cars leaving everyone and ALL the luggage at the train station. Side note - there is a yellow submarine outside the airport- totally awesome! Upgrade one of the cars so we can fit all the luggage and after a few wrong turns and me giving Jords the finger while following him (nothing is more satisfying than giving someone’s back the finger with your best screw you face). We load everyone and everything into the cars- tell Rizza to follow us and at the first set of lights he promptly turned left as we went straight ahead.. what the hell was he thinking? Spend next half an hour ringing between two cars… following GPS on the mobiles (while trying to teach them how to use an iPhone) FUCK…. are we in Wales yet? Another half an hour later we worked out both cars were on the same carriageway and YES we had crossed over into Wales. Pulled over at the first McDonalds with Rizza and the ladies pulling in 5 minutes after us. By the way Sandra jumped out of the car and hugged me and Rizza’s brooding silence, things were tense in the other car. In hindsight Jords probably should of kept driving the other car and saved Rizza his sanity and a few grey hairs. We made it to our farmhouse (only 2 more wrong turns) and were completely blown away by how beautiful it was. We were met by family friends who had driven their camper van to spend the Night with us. They had arrived earlier than us and tried to reverse up our drive way and lost their clutch (so it’s not just us). They had been kind enough to buy pizzas for supper and we settled in for a few drinks and a catch up.

#Wales #travellingwithkids

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jonjost · 7 years

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With each passing day the Trump White House Reality Show Saga staggers forth, drowning the public arena in plots and events which would leave a Brazilian soap opera in the dust of absurdist improbability. Each day the various spokespersons emerge to spew ridiculous lies, one after the other, with seeming shamelessness. Nearly each day Herr Trump emits a sequences of Twitter enuncios, often mangled in misspellings, grammatical knots, and, yes, the invariable Everest of lies which seem to be his singular reason for being. This grand drama has carried on ever since his highness descended the golden escalator of Trump Tower, greeted by a large gaggle of paid actors, and announced he was in the ring, running for President. It was in more ways than one a real class act.

He’d laid the groundwork for this grand Guignol theater with decades in the trenches of the New York real estate biz, and then the tinsel glamor of casinos, draped with gambling’s usual cast of thugs and local Mafia which, in fact, was not a great change from NYC’s corrupt building industry. And then, having failed in both these endeavors, with a trail of bankruptcies to show for it, he moved on TV’s reality-show sewer, and ever greater fakery.

As with his businesses, so it was with wives. Failing with one, he dumped her and moved to the next, a littering the way with a string of children, the last of whom is named after the fake PR agent which Trump himself used to play to pass along juicy items to New York’s yellow press. Barron was his name, and he’d call to let the world know of Trump’s latest conquests in the field of fucking. His son now bears this albatrossian monicker. Lucky him.

And now looking more haggard with his vast comb-over and sagging flesh, eyes peering out from their odd white sockets from the fake tan skin job he applies to himself, The Donald is able to command the world’s attention, his stubby fingers but a code away from incinerating the whole globe, should the corrupted American system comply with a demented order from The President. Thus far the theoretical “checks and balances” of the Founding Fathers scheme seem to be faltering seriously.

All of the above is appalling, and sadly true. The Rosebud of Trump’s psyche is clearly hidden in the massive chip on the Queens kid’s shoulder. Bruised with a silver spoon up his ass at birth, and apparently a harsh unloving father and mother, The Donald took his million buck wad from his father, moved into the Manhattan real-estate racket, and pulled himself up by his own bootstraps, a real Horatio Alger American success story. Well, not quite. Hobbled with a bone spur in one of his feet, he forgets which, Donald blazed a pecker-track trail through the decadent Manhattan party scene of the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s, emerging, so he says, unscathed with STD, his own private Vietnam, risking AIDS with each psycho-sexual battle. Along the way he blew his million buck starter kit, had some bankruptcies here and there, and built a reputation as a scam artist, from high to low. He moved on to Atlantic City casinos, and gambling there, lost again. His dad bailed him out with a legally dubious multi-million dollar purchase of casino chips. The Trump Taj Mahal recently shuttered its doors after being sold to another sucker. Along the line The Donald learned that old PT Barnum maxim, there’s one born every second.

Failed but famous, he saw his name was the best product on offer, mystical and golden. Trump Steaks! Trump National Golf Courses! Trump Vodka! Trump University! He built a tower on 5th Avenue, asserting it was 68 floors when it was in fact 58. He installed a private Versailles on its top floors, a garish palace of fake Louis XIV and hauled his third wife up there to spawn his 5th child, dear Barron. And yet, despite all this, the Manhattan elite never accepted him and his brash, crude and rude ways, and the best tables at the classy restaurants were not reserved for him. In fact the boys on Wall Street finally declined to bank with him, and he turned his sights to other funding sources, and, along with other New York real-estate moguls, Trumpworld became a money laundering machine for Russian and East European dirty money, carefully funneled through an arcane web of off-shore shell companies and banks.

This fantastical story is no fable, but rather the unhappy truth, a real American novel writ large if crude.

Though the still more fantastical story – no fable – is that this one could never have been lived if it were not for the world in which it has been played out: America, circa now. In an America where corruption on a vast scale is the norm, though not so long ago we primly lectured the world on probity. Where the once staunchly proper Republican Party lies supine, awaiting Donald’s allegedly very little dick, for a daily reaming. Where a party of pious moralizers about women’s bodies turn utterly silent when the most obvious of liars occupies the White House in their name, and tramples daily on the “values” which they once harped upon so loudly. The hypocrisy is so vast as to diminish the word “hypocrisy” to nothing. It is something else. It is something which has incrementally entered the American body politic in ways that, as ever in hindsight, seem so obvious now, though were invisible as they entered the bloodstream. A stealthy terminal cancer which does not reveal itself until it takes your life.

Today the liberal world of Democrats is still in shock, unable to believe their most worthy candidate actually lost to the uncouth bullying braggart which Donald John Trump is. At the outset of the campaign they were salivating at the obviousness of their win, it was a no-brainer no-match. They’d take the Senate, clean up in once Red States, and waltz happily from the wonders of a black President to smashing the glass ceiling of sexism, and have a woman in the Oval Office. And, in a manner they did: 3 million more votes went to Madam Clinton than Mr Trump received, just that, in the arcane electoral scam world of America, they were in the wrong places. Firm in her belief that certain fly-over zones, traditionally Democratic, were hers for granted, she declined to campaign in Wisconsin, Michigan, Ohio, and missed out on noting the collapse of these realms which Don the Con so expertly gamed into his head count.

WASHINGTON, DC – JUNE 04: U.S. Senate Minority Leader Sen. Mitch McConnell (R-KY) listens as he speaks to members of the media June 4, 2013 on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC. The Senate Republicans had their weekly policy luncheon to discuss the Republican agenda. (Photo by Alex Wong/Getty Images)

And then of course there is the litany of GOP tricks of gerrymandering, of voting roll purges, and, so it seems, a bit of Russian cyber warfare to tilt the appropriate tables just enough to pull out a Trump Electoral College win. Such is the Dem lament. If, indeed, Putin had much to do with it (I’d guess he did, but the roots go far back into post-USSR oligarchic mafia money flooding into NYC and along the way bailing The Donald out of his business miseries), then in terms of grand real-politik, he’s already had an immense win: the USA is in severe internal turmoil, and seems headed towards a dissolution similar to that which the good old USSR went through.

The bottom line, which it seems Democrats are unable to comprehend, nor did their GOP counterparts, is that the USA is, socially, utterly corrupted, top to bottom, and only in such a situation could a Donald Trump emerge triumphant. With the GOP he acted like a juvenile delinquent, he huffed and puffed and called his opposition truly stupid bad names – and they all shriveled up and collapsed as they were nothing to begin with. And once he won, having insulted them all, they showed their true characters and value and went to suck his butt.

“We came, we saw, he died.” (Laughter.)

And while the Democrats imagine themselves somehow different, in truth it is their own corruption – for decades – which brought this debacle upon them, and upon the nation. For decades they have spoken nice liberal niceties, while wallowing in the trough of corporate malfeasance, and enhancing their personal wealth along the way. Clinton (both) did half-million buck speeches to Wall Street honchos and said no quid pro quo was involved, while they backed the corporately-written trade agreements that have decimated American labor. Obama, well-mannered Harvard-trained Step’n Fetchit did the Man’s bidding and let Wall Street off the hook for illegalities up the kazoo in the 2008 collapse. Ditto did he say he was “looking forward” and not back in letting Bush and gang off the hook for lying the USA into a disastrous war, the consequences of which are still being played out. One of the club. The list of Democratic dishonesty is equal to that of the Republicans, because, bottom line, they all belong to the same institutions and the same insider game. That is the corruption which blossomed over the decades as the few became obscenely wealthy, and the many fell ever further behind, and the social infrastructure was effectually let to rot while the liberal-left of America mouthed platitudes about race, sexual identification, “safe” spaces, and all the rest of the fake stuff of “political correctness” which invaded our public commons, while the invisible hand of the market consigned a vast portion of the country to Walmart and worse. While 22 veterans a day, left homeless, commit suicide each day – now far out-numbering those killed in combat. While meth and then opioids cut a lethal swath across the nation’s failing economic casualties. It is not as if these things were not visible, it is just that for the liberal world, the large mental “fly-over” country was dismissed as a yahoo red-neck Nascar wreck, unworthy of attention or care, and was left to Fox and friends to warp with 24/7 right-wing propaganda.�� All in plain sight, but until it came to whack them over the head in the 2016 election, seemingly unworthy of giving the time of day. And now the institutional Democrats are convulsed in an internecine war with themselves, fingers pointing blame at anyone but the person in the mirror: It was Sanders’ fault. It was the blind DNC. It was Clinton’s ham-handedness and arrogance. It was the Russians. It was…..

Democratic presidential candidate Hillary Clinton looks on as she speaks during a town hall meeting in Las Vegas, Nevada August 18, 2015. REUTERS/David Becker – RTX1OPKY

It was anyone and anything aside from the rotted corrupt society that is America today. A society in which corruption is such a norm that a great majority is blind to it, taking it as how the world is, and how it should be. Grade inflation in schools, from kindergarten to PhD’s in Harvard. Cheating as a necessary way to get ahead. A medical system which is little more than an extortion racket. Our vast and corrosive “entertainment” industry that feeds virtual death on a grand scale 24/7 – look at your TV and Hwd block-busters. Sports which are but a step away from Roman gladiators killing each other for the pleasure of violence besotted spectators. A military-industrial-media system that functions as a quasi-religion and contorts the American economy in a death-lock. Look almost anywhere and the ugly specter of corruption materializes: social, economic, cultural, political.

This should be no surprise in an imperial system which lies to itself, and has done so from its inception. The United States of America comprises 5% of the world’s population and consumes 25% of its resources. While America insists that it is “exceptional” and that this disproportion derives both from having a large landmass and brilliant creative entrepreneurial people the brutal fact is that it has a vast military machine which enforces its economic sway on much, if no longer all, of the world. It is imperialism, plain and simple. But Americans, self-deluded, do not acknowledge it, just as they do not acknowledge that the US is almost always at war, supposedly defending “US interests.” In such a system the moral rot is innate: no one wishes to admit their wealth is ill-gained, no one wishes to really admit the history which is that of America. Almost no one in such a system will volunteer to relinquish 80% of their wealth to help even out the grotesque distribution of global wealth. And so lying and self-delusion arise naturally and “normally,” and with it a fertile ground for corruption of all kinds. And a hence, a field ripe for the emergence of Mr Trump and his cohorts.

“A candidate for public office…does not face men of sense; he faces a mob of men whose chief distinguishing mark is the fact that they are quite incapable of weighing ideas, or even of comprehending any save the most elemental — men whose whole thinking is done in terms of emotion, and whose dominant emotion is dread of what they cannot understand. So confronted, the candidate must either bark with the pack or count himself lost. All the odds are on the man who is, intrinsically, the most devious and mediocre — the man who can most adeptly disperse the notion that his mind is a virtual vacuum. As democracy is perfected, the office represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. We move toward a lofty ideal. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart’s desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.” H.L. Mencken

FAKE With each passing day the Trump White House Reality Show Saga staggers forth, drowning the public arena in plots and events which would leave a Brazilian soap opera in the dust of absurdist improbability.

#Barron Trump #Democrats #DNC #Donald Trump #GOP #Hillary Clinton #MAGA #Obama #Rob Goldstone #Trump Taj Mahal #USSR #Walmart

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