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radrook2 · 2 years

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Who is my Neighbor?

Who Is My Neighbor? Written by Nelson Diaz AKA Radrook It was on a cold winter Tuesday evening when the creature suddenly arrived at our church’s door located in the outskirts of Richmond Virginia. We were all reverently singing hymns, when suddenly, there was a loud banging that caused us to stop in the midst of the song: How Great Thou Art, and to turn around. Naturally, we were extremely surprised. After all, church visitors never knocked, especially not in that rude and loud, desperate manner. Instead, they would just very gently pry the door open and take a seat during services. So the loud pounding was something very unusual, making us hesitate. Finally, when I could bear the tension no longer, I volunteered to go and see what was the matter. It was nine in the evening, dark and misty outside, so visibility was low. I could barely make out the faint outlines of cars in the church parking-lot and those of the surrounding evergreen trees. All was very silent for a wile, but then I heard some groaning and walked in its direction. I figured that maybe it was some homeless person needing help. After all, they did sometimes show up at the church seemingly out of nowhere seeking help. So I assumed that it was very likely one of them who had banged on our door but was now too weak or else too intoxicated to continue. But then, gradually, as my eyes began to adjust, I saw it, the outline of a large human-like, white-furred creature staring at me from behind the large, green, metal garbage bin. No, it was not a menacing stare, but one of pain. It was nursing a wounded, bleeding arm tightly with the palm of one furry right hand, and its large, blue, oval eyes, which were barely reflecting the moonlight, seemed to be pleading with me for help. Those pleading eyes were what stopped me from bolting in panic. “Can I help you?” I forced myself to say, albeit in a trembling, fearful voice. ” Yes! Please!” were the words I heard telepathically. “Stay there, I’ll be back with the first aid kit” I told it, after barely forcing a friendly smile before turning around and half-stumbling back in. I must have looked extremely spooked since they all stared at me as if I had been an apparition. What made it worse, perhaps, was that I remained silently staring right back at them for maybe a full thirty-seconds. “What was it?” Father Ubaldini, a short senior citizen of Italian descent, who always reminded me of the actor Sylvester Stallone, finally asked in his New-York accent with an extremely worried look on his wrinkled tan face. “Oh, just someone who is in need of bandages, painkillers and antiseptics.” I responded struggling to sound and look as normal as possible in order to avoid panic. “Then why didn’t you bring the visitor inside my son?” he asked, frowning at me as if I had been extremely cruel in not bringing in whomever it was that was injured. “No Father, this time I think it’s best that we take care of the problem outside!” “But why son? What is the problem? You go prepare the bandages and other things, and I will go outside and welcome him to our church and usher him in!” Father Ubaldini took a few steps towards the door. “No! Father, please don’t” I grabbed him firmly by the arm and stopped him from what I believed could possibly cause him a fatal heart attack. He in turn stared at me as if I had committed an unforgivable sin causing me to immediately release my grip. “Sorry Father, But this is best. Please keep everyone inside until I say it is OK to leave!” I added in the way of an apology for having touched him. For the first time since I had known him, Father Ubaldini, stared at me as if I had been a total stranger, and slowly and cautiously backed away from me and the door. His usual look of casual friendliness was replaced by one of intense suspicion. “Why? Is he some kind of criminal? Did he just threaten you with violence? What’s going on here son? You can trust us. We are all brothers and sisters here!” he said in a stern voice that he usually reserved for reprimanding sinful behavior. “Well Father,” I hesitated a long time before finally saying what I was about to say: “... you see, it’s not, it’s not a human being that knocked on our door.” I heard gasps of horror from those in attendance and one elderly sister in the faith, sister Ramirez, immediately dropped backwards into her seat from her standing position with her full 350 pounds. For a moment I regretted having told them, but what else was I supposed to do? “Not human?” Father Ubaldini uttered while intently staring at me with a horrified look on his face. “Is it an animal? A feral ape? Only a very large ape could pound on a door in that human way. Has it escaped from the city zoo? If it has, I can get a gun...” “No father, it isn’t an ape and a gun will not be necessary! Just the medicine and bandages, and I will send it on its way! I promise.” I smiled broadly in the friendliest way I could muster in order to assure him that all would be fine. “Send It on its way? You just called it an it? Is this thing some kind of materialized demon? Is that what you are saying son? Something supernatural that has chosen on a visitation to our sacred church to put our faith to the test? If so, then let us all kneel in prayer so that God can come to our aid and protect us from Satan’s machinations.” he said with his hands in the traditional steeple position which he always used while delivering his brief Sunday sermons. I suddenly felt the emotion of urgency infuse my mind and took it as the creature’s way of telling me to hurry. “Father, it’s bleeding profusely, and if I keep delaying, it might maybe bleed to death. No, it doesn't look like some supernatural evil creature. Just a creature in need of our help. That’s all-Father. ” There were murmurings and gasps of concern from the churchgoers who began grouping together and staring back at the door in fear. “Maybe it is something like an extraterrestrial who crashed in the woods?” I said “Or maybe it’s Big Foot? I don’t know Father, but whatever it is, don’t you think that we owe it some compassion?” He stared at me as if I had blasphemed, but I ignored it and continued. “It thanked me for offering help, Father, and is now probably wondering why I am taking so long.” At that moment, there was a high-pitched howl of pain from the creature and a loud thud as if it had suddenly collapsed against the church door. All the church-members suddenly huddled together in a far- off corner behind the priest who was holding up a large wooden crucifix that had yanked from the church wall and was wielding it menacingly towards the door as if it were a weapon that would protect them. When I tried to get to the medicine cabinet, he blocked my way as if I also was some kind of unholy enemy of all that he and Christianity held sacred. Following his lead, the other church members began glaring at me in horror as they would at some preternatural monster. One brother in the faith, brother Scaralapagus, whom I had known for decades, was holding a metal chair above his head threatening to hurl it at me if I insisted on walking in his direction. Sisters were protectively embracing their kids who were sobbing and whimpering in fear as they sought motherly shelter from approaching harm. “Shame on you! Shame on all of you!” I shouted. “Christ told us to help our neighbors who are under distress!. We are told to be kind even to our animals! You all know that, and yet you are refusing this creature the help that it needs? Why? Because I said he might be an extraterrestrial? Does he have to be from Earth and human, to deserve our compassion? Who are we to say that God didn’t create other material creatures in his image. Yes! Different in physical appearance only, but still spiritually our equals or maybe even our superiors? Do you really think that our creator wants us to deny such creatures our help in their time of need? Is that what all of you really believe?” But my words had no effect on any of them as they started slowly backing away from me. There was suddenly another moan of pain from outside, and as I turned to go and help the creature as best as I could, the pastor discarded the crucifix and pointed a gun, given to him by one of the parishioners, in my direction. “Don’t you dare open that door!” he said holding the gun in a trembling hand. Nothing unclean is to be permitted in the house of the Lord! Not while I am the pastor of this church!” As I ignored him and continued towards the door, I felt a telepathic surge of great pity for the people who had refused the creature help. It was an emotion brimming with compassion and forgiveness, as if it understood that their human irrationality was involuntary. Then it telepathically recited the words that Jesus had said during the last moments of his crucifixion. “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.”

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pokemoncreepypasta · 3 years

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HM Slave

[STORY SOURCE]

The Generation I games. Definitely not perfect games by any means, but they were fun to play.

It's a shame my old cartridge’s battery has been long since dead. Makes sense, it was a hand-me-down from an older sibling of mine. Between both of our times playing it, it was bound to die sometime.

I was feeling nostalgic and wanted to play it again after so many years...

The trouble was, I had no intention of learning how to replace the battery, or buying a new cartridge. None of that appealed to me.

So, I just took it upon myself to play it without saving. Any time I wanted to stop, I’d just plug it into my charger, and leave it be.

Everything about this run was just for nostalgia. It was nothing personal to me, so I didn't name Red after myself or something.

I wanted to play through this game without getting attached to anything.

The best way to go through without caring? A starter-only run. I chose Charmander, since it was the cover ‘mon, and also my favorite of the three. Not necessarily because it would make the game easier in the long run.

Of course, there’s no way I’d be able to get through with just Charmander.

My plan was to catch a Pokémon specifically to use as an HM slave, so my Charizard wouldn’t be clogged up by useless moves in the long run.

And what better HM slave than the one who can learn them all, right?

In Generation I, you can’t delete moves in any way, so an HM slave was absolutely necessary.

Not like I hated Mew or anything... I just never performed the Mew glitch as a kid and thought that this would be a fun opportunity to try it.

The darned thing did everything within its power to not get caught, blowing through every single one of my PokéBalls that I’d prepared to catch it with. Hey, it wasn’t like I was going to need them later, so I didn’t complain.

I decided to nickname the little thing. I’d heard the term “HM mule” thrown around in place of HM slave, so I thought it would be funny.

Of course, picking the Fire type had its rocky start, with its disadvantage against the first two gym leaders.

I managed to scrape by with scummy tactics, though.

I’d switched to my Abra that I’d caught to perform the Mew glitch, and let Misty knock it out.

After that, I switched to Mewl for the free turn, and then healed my Charmeleon. Then, after Mewl fainted, I got a free switch into Charmeleon.

When the battle was over, I could proudly claim the Cascade Badge.

This was Mewl’s secondary purpose, to be switch fodder for me to heal my starter.

Things were going fine until Mewl learned Cut.

The first instance where Mewl’s “skills” would come into play.

This was a game where you couldn’t use HMs from the overworld, so I went to the menu to manually select it.

“MEWL ignored orders...”

Now, imagine my surprise when my slave wouldn’t listen to orders. I tried a few more times, with the same result.

I attempted to rationalize it, picking my brain for a reason. I assumed that you could not use HM moves while a Pokémon was fainted, but something about that didn’t seem right.

I healed at the Pokémon Center to be safe though.

That seemed to work, so I assumed that I was right and continued to Surge.

Nothing really unusual happened during the fight, but Mewl was knocked out again for a free heal.

On my way out, I had to cut down the tree blocking Surge’s gym again. I was worried for a moment that I had gotten myself stuck, but Mewl cut it down just fine.

I figured the game would let me use HM moves if I would be trapped otherwise.

I went back to the center to heal up my starter, and my stubborn little mule.

(And Abra too, I guess.)

I caught and released a few throwaway Pokémon to obtain Flash, which I immediately taught to Mewl.

I made my way to Rock Tunnel.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

I was frustratingly met with this. It was fully healed, I couldn't understand why it was disobeying. I wondered if it was some sort of consequence from having an illegitimate Mew...

I kept trying and trying, but no matter what, it wouldn’t light the cave.

I was sure this little bugger didn’t want to wander around in the dark just as much as me, so I really couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

I tried checking its summary, to which its blank, neutral expression had changed to something more... defiant?

I didn't know what kind of sick joke Morimoto was pulling on me by programming Mew to be this way, but I wasn’t having any of it.

It dawned on me that Abra could also learn Flash, so I just let Mewl be prissy and lit up the cave with Abra.

I somewhat regretted my choice to teach Mewl Flash. If I had known it was going to act like this, I would have just taught it Fly instead…

I decided to go ahead and skip getting Fly, since Charizard couldn't learn it anyway.

Thankfully, I made it out of Rock Tunnel just fine.

Charizard made Erika’s gym a total joke, so I didn’t even need Mewl as fodder for this fight.

The whole game was going fine so far up to Fuchsia City, and I had completely forgotten about Mewl’s disobedience by now.

I had obtained its final two moves, so I booted the HMs up and slapped them onto it.

Of course, to use Surf and progress, I had to face off against Koga.

Things were going well up until Charizard couldn’t deal with Koga’s last Pokémon.

I sent in Mewl to heal my Charizard.

”Enemy WEEZING used SLUDGE!”

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

Strangely, when Weezing attacked Mewl, it didn’t get knocked out in one hit like it was meant to. Instead, it stayed in the field.

While I wanted to question it at the time, I just used a Hyper Potion on my Charizard to get it back to full.

”Enemy WEEZING used SMOG!”

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

Sure enough, I wasn’t dreaming. Mewl was somehow surviving all of Koga’s attacks. Normally that would be pretty cool, except for the fact that Mewl was level 7 and therefore effectively worthless in this fight.

I had to wait for it to faint to switch to Charizard, but Mewl kept surviving every hit that was thrown at it.

”Enemy WEEZING used TOXIC!”

“MEWL”s hurt by poison!”

“MEWL fainted!”

Thankfully, it eventually became poisoned and went down, so I could send in Charizard to finish the job.

I made quick work of Koga and his Weezing after that and made my way out of the Gym.

But weirdly, as I was leaving, I couldn’t help but notice the screen flashing as if a Pokémon in my party was still poisoned.

I checked my party again to see what was up.

It seemed like Mew had a custom sprite for being knocked out that I never noticed before. I didn't even know if that was a thing.

But it was definitely knocked out, for sure, so I brushed it off as some sort of bug.

I figured if anything would fix the poison glitch, it’d be healing at the Pokémon Center.

”If you drive your POKéMON too hard, they’ll dislike you.”

”Please take better care of your POKéMON.”

I was confused at this text. Was this dialogue hidden for players like me who let their Pokémon faint over and over? Whatever it is, I have never seen it before.

”We hope to see you again!”

The nurse went back to her chipper disposition afterwards though, so I figured I should just be on my merry way as well.

I checked up on Mewl to see how it was doing now.

It seemed like the nurse just haphazardly patched it up. Mewl’s expression still looked tense, but I hoped that didn’t mean it wouldn’t use its new HM moves.

I made a quick note to take down Giovanni at Silph Co. and Sabrina. My Charizard was actually getting a bit over-leveled, so I swept through without needing to use Mewl to heal during battles at all.

I decided that on my way to Blaine, I would fall back on my training a bit.

I back-tracked over to Fuchsia City since it was faster than going all the way back to Pallet Town.

I made my way down by the Fuchsia coast and hoped quietly that Mewl would let me Surf to Cinnabar.

Thankfully it seemed like the 1’4 cat was perfectly fine with me riding on its back, with no defiance at all. I felt confident, like I was finally getting enough gym badges to make it obey.

I'd even gotten it to listen when I needed it to use Strength in the Seafoam Islands. Things were really looking up.

I’d finally hit land and was ready to storm the Cinnabar Mansion and claim Blaine’s badge.

I was feeling pretty confident with my Charizard’s HP and level that I wanted to take on the Gym without healing at the Pokémon Center.

I had plenty of Potions and Revives in case of emergency, anyway.

All of the quiz questions were normal, except... This bizarre one.

“You treat all your POKéMON fairly?”

Though it had been several years since I played this game, something felt off about it, like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

I half-heartedly answered yes, despite knowing it was untrue. My logic was, at the very least, that even though I as a player didn’t care about these Pokémon, maybe Red did.

”Sorry! Bad call!”

The buzzer went off and I was harassed by a trainer. I was appalled... Was the game really criticizing me as a player?

Had I hit some sort of secret flag after making Mewl faint so much? I couldn't understand what was happening.

I didn’t give myself much time to think about it though, so I healed up my Charizard with some Potions and took on Blaine.

Charizard had fainted again, so I left it up to Mewl.

I healed up my Charizard and expected Mewl to hang on like before, but it just went down with no resistance.

With my seventh gym badge in hand, I was pretty happy with my run so far. A couple more hours in and I’d be done, I thought.

I was ready to Surf north towards Pallet Town and claim my eighth and final badge.

“MEWL ignored orders!”

But I received a friendly reminder.

I had forgotten that Mewl didn’t like using HMs without being healed. I really didn’t feel like taking it to the Pokémon Center though, so I just carelessly threw a Revive at it.

Hoping that the Revive would be good enough to satisfy it and let me ride on it again, I mashed through text a few times to see if I could brute-force it to listen.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

”MEWL turned away!”

It kept bombarding me with the same defiant messages over and over, until...

“MEWL hates you.”

I was caught off-guard. This text didn’t have the same energy as the others, lacking an exclamation point. It sounded like flat, cold, genuine hatred.

I pressed A again, and attempted to order another Surf. Not necessarily because I wanted it to Surf now, but more out of a morbid fascination with such intense text.

“MEWL used instead, FLASH!”

Suddenly, like in a battle, the screen lit up totally white.

I was booted out of the party screen afterwards, and immediately noticed a distinct lack of an items menu. Had Mewl taken it from me?

Closing out of the menu, I spoke to the Pokémon now standing next to me, knowing exactly who it was supposed to be.

”Mew!”

Mew’s cry played. I already knew it.

“MEWL hacked away with CUT!”

I flinched, horrified at the thought of Mewl directly attacking my trainer.

”HM01 was destroyed!”

But then I realized, it wasn't that...

”HM03 was destroyed!”

Instead, Mewl had stolen my items...

”HM04 was destroyed!”

… And was proceeding to destroy each of my HMs, one by one.

”HM05 was destroyed!”

After destroying HM05, Mewl’s sprite disappeared; presumably back into its PokéBall.

I was exasperated, but quick on my wits.

I still had Fuchsia City's Pokémon Center as my last saved location, meaning I could use Abra to Teleport back to the mainland.

I was smug, thinking I'd found a loophole around Mewl's attempts to sabotage me.

”ABRA used TELEPORT!”

“ABRA ran away!”

I panicked, to say the least. I frantically scrolled around my party page. How could Abra have disappeared like that? I wasn't going to accept Mewl being my only ride back to Pallet, it was impossible.

I desperately went to the PC inside the Pokémon Center, in some vain hope that maybe Abra had just been sent there somehow.

”MEWL used STRENGTH.”

“The PC was destroyed!”

I couldn't believe it.

Mewl had gone full rogue.

I suddenly had to come to grips with the horrifying realization...

I was trapped in Cinnabar with no way off.

I went through what I can only describe as the five stages of grief.

Stage 1 - Denial

I scoured the internet for any other Pokémon in Cinnabar Mansion that I could use to escape the island.

I quickly remembered that Mewl had already destroyed my HMs and stolen my items, and realized I couldn’t catch anything.

But I did have one more plan.

If I could knock out Charizard and Mewl, I could be sent back to Fuchsia. It would take a bit of work for Charizard to eventually faint, but I was prepared to try anything.

”CHARIZARD ran away!”

But I couldn’t be prepared for my Charizard running away.

I was so shocked that I didn’t even want to send in Mewl, I just said no and fled the battle.

I fell into absolute despair. Mewl had not only ruined my chance of getting off the island, but now, even if I did, what would I do without the only Pokémon I’d been raising?

Stage 2 - Anger

I’d never thought malicious thoughts about this Mew before, just casual indifference and sometimes mild frustration. But I can’t say that I didn’t want some payback towards this Mew for wasting several perfectly good hours of my life.

I sadistically thought about how I would make it faint, and then how I would torture it over, and over, making it repeatedly faint until maybe it would measure up to Charizard’s strength.

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

I couldn't stop myself from shouting "NO."

Despite Mewl’s apparent injuries, it hung on with one HP.

Again, and again, no matter what I did. No matter what Pokémon I faced.

It seemed like nothing could poison it, burn it, kill it.

Then, it dawned on me…

Maybe this was what Mewl wanted all along?

Stage 3 - Bargaining

Mewl’s stubbornness and special ability that made it unable to faint...

It took Mewl a long time to faint its first real opponent, due to its low level, but in the end, it grew.

I checked Mewl’s summary for some sort of sign, anything at all, that this was what I was supposed to be doing. It stared at me with its vacant, unreadable expression...

Perhaps it was shocked I had battled with it? Whatever the case, it wasn’t staring at me with hostility anymore...

So it was silently agreed between us, then. Mewl and I, we did our first ever grinding session.

It took a few hours, but Mewl’s level was growing steadily. Things seemed to be going well, until...

We ran into our first wild Ditto.

I thought it was strange, having not found a Ditto for all this time I'd spent in Cinnabar Mansion, but I didn’t see any trouble with fighting it, so I just let the battle progress.

Stage 4 - Depression

The Ditto transformed into Mewl, who appeared to have a sad expression on its face.

I quickly pulled out of the battle screen and into my party to see if something had changed with Mewl.

I checked to see Mewl, who had that same sad expression as the Ditto. Its status had changed from "OK" to a worrying "...".

I knew something was wrong, so I fled from that battle and every battle afterwards.

Though I had avoided it before on hopes of somehow escaping to Fuchsia City, I gave it all up to heal Mewl, who had risked life and limb to impress me.

After it was healed, I checked its summary again.

Though it had fully healed, it still had that depressed look in its eyes. I couldn’t understand want it wanted. I didn’t know what it needed.

But I realized that it was getting pretty late, and I wanted to get to sleep soon. I would have to leave the game on, and leave Mewl behind.

That was when it hit me.

Could it be possible that Mewl knew I hadn’t saved? Did Mewl somehow understand that no matter if I saved or didn’t save, it would disappear when I turned the game off?

I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but Mewl was more special than any other Pokémon I’d ever played with.

And if I turned the game off, it would disappear forever.

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

I went out of the Pokémon Center to reflect about this with Mewl.

I still wanted to finish the adventure with it, if it would let me.

Stage 5 - Acceptance

“MEWL doesn’t want to go.”

That was okay, I thought.

I realized that even if I went with Mewl to the Pokémon League, and won, then the game would return to the title screen and not save my progress.

Maybe Mewl understood that, too.

So then we were at an impasse, together on Cinnabar Island.

I didn’t know what to do. Even if this Mew was special, even if I genuinely believed it was real, I couldn’t just keep my GameBoy on forever. What would anyone else think?

I decided that for the first time in this entire run, I wanted to save my game. I didn't want to turn it off just yet, but at least save, as some sort of precautionary measure.

I hoped, that in the event the GameBoy turned off for whatever reason, a miracle would occur.

”Would you like to SAVE your MEW?”

It seemed that the game knew exactly what my heart wanted, and I selected yes.

Then, all of a sudden, my game turned off. Not due to low battery or anything, but it just turned off.

I panicked for a moment, and quickly switched the game back on.

It was gone. The save file was gone.

Or, rather, it was never there to begin with.

#Pokemon Creepypasta #Pokepasta #Mew #HM Slave

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karasuno-chaos · 4 years

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Every Game (Daichi x Reader)

Before your final year at Karasuno, Daichi asks you to be at every game and cheer for the team. You readily agree, but with so many things coming to an end, will there be time for a new development in your relationship?

Word Count: 3,465

When your best friend Kiyoko became the manager of the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball Club, you knew it was only a matter of time before you became friends with the team. It wasn’t like you and Kiyoko had a particularly large friend group to begin with, and when you could, you’d find an excuse to stay at school late so you could walk home with her after practice. Often you’d bump into the players, and a friendship between you, Asahi, Daichi, and Suga naturally blossomed.

You realized something else was blossoming between you and Daichi during your second year. You noticed yourself staying after school for the chance to chat with him as much as to walk home with Kiyoko. You even found yourself looking forward to those brief chats. Sometimes during lunch you’d gravitate to wherever he and the other volleyball players were discussing their schedules and plans for practice. He was perceptive and humble. You could see how other people listened to him and valued his advice--yourself included.

You thought about confessing your feelings many times, but you chickened out every time you came close. You saw Daichi’s dedication to his team and volleyball, and you hated the thought that you might become a distraction to him and his dreams. You continued to bite your tongue and valued what moments you shared with him.

Now you were preparing for your third year at Karasuno, and you were very aware that time was running out to make your feelings known. The week before the start of the school year, you took a walk around the city to mull over your thoughts and anticipations for this final year. You’d come to terms with your feelings for Daichi, but you hadn’t worked out whether to act on them. Your final year of high school would be full of important finalities. You weren’t sure now was a good time for a new romance, but it also might be your last chance to let him know how you felt.

“Y/N?”

As though summoned by your thoughts, there he was on the sidewalk in front of you. Daichi was holding a half-empty water bottle, and a few beads of sweat glistened along his hairline. He must have been out on a pre-dinner jog.

“Hi Daichi.”

You stood there silently for a moment, wondering what to say next.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good. Just out enjoying the weather.”

“It’s been a nice spring.”

“Yeah.” You fished around for something else to talk about. “Congrats, by the way. Kiyoko told me the news.”

“Thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck as though embarrassed, but his smile was proud. “I just hope I can lead us back to Nationals.”

“You will,” you promised. “You’ll be a great captain.” You honestly believed it. You’d seen his drive and watched it inspire the same drive in his teammates.

“We’ll see.” He twisted the cap on his water bottle. “It would be easier with a coach.”

You hummed in sympathetic agreement. The responsibility of preparing the team and running practices would fall to the captain. Daichi would have a busy year.

“If there’s anything I can do to help,” you offered, “let me know, okay?”

“Hm.” He rocked on his feet while thinking it over. “You could come cheer for us at every game.”

“Really?” You laughed. “I was thinking more along the lines of doing the team’s laundry or something.”

“I’d never subject anyone to that,” Daichi chuckled.

“Thanks for being so considerate.”

“So what do you say?”

“Sure,” you grinned. “I’ll be in the stands every game cheering for you.”

-//-

You and Kiyoko wove through clumps of people in the halls, heading towards the stairway to the next floor to find the other volleyball third years. You hadn't seen them since the Seijoh match. You knew they were torn up over the loss because you were, too, but you hadn't actually spoken with any of them since the game. You wanted to know that Daichi was okay.

Kiyoko caught your arm just as you were about to round the corner and head up the stairs.

"What?" you asked, but the pause let your ears catch what hers had already heard.

"It might be better for the team to restructure around these younger players now," Daichi was saying. You frowned. They'd been building the team around the first years since they started. What was he talking about?

"Daichi!" Suga rarely raised his voice against his friend, and it made you glance at Kiyoko in surprise. "Is that really what you want?"

You waited in the tense pause that followed, not totally sure what you were waiting for.

"I know being captain makes you responsible for thinking about these things, but I honestly don't think removing yourself is the best plan."

Your eyes widened. Daichi was thinking about retiring already? That didn't make sense to you. He loved volleyball and was an essential part of the team. Didn't he see how the younger players relied on him? You took a step forward, but Kiyoko tightened her grip on your arm and shook her head. As usual, she was better at reading her teammates than you were.

You waited with her, straining to hear what the others were saying. Your heart swelled when both Suga and Asahi promised to stay on the team until they couldn't or the younger players asked them to leave. You’d watched how hard they’d worked since their first year at Karasuno and felt the devastation when they’d lost to Seijoh. They deserved another chance to go to nationals. Daichi deserved to let himself try again. You held your breath to hear what he would decide.

“I really want to play, too!”

The amount of emotion in his voice made your throat tighten. You were relieved that he wasn’t going to give up the sport he loved due to some misplaced sense of responsibility. You met Kiyoko’s eyes and saw a misty mix of emotions in them. You knew she felt the same as you did. The Seijoh match had almost torn the team apart, but they would fly higher after this. You stepped forward, and she let you slip from her grasp.

“Daichi!” you called, pausing on the bottom step until he and the others turned to you. “I promised to be at every game this year to cheer for you, so you’d better be on that court!”

He blinked, and you felt your cheeks heating up, but you stood your ground and waited for his response.

“Right!” he promised, face breaking into a smile though you sensed other emotions in his eyes.

“Good.” You nodded. Unable to think of anything else to say and desperately needing to escape before your blush deepened further, you turned and headed back down the stairs. You didn’t meet Kiyoko’s eyes as you passed her, hearing her muffled giggles despite her best attempts to hide them.

-//-

You felt frozen, blood pounding in your ears and your vision wavering from shock. The gym was uncomfortably quiet as every member of the audience focused on one corner of the court. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real. This was simply a nightmare, and you were begging yourself to wake up.

You could see Daichi lying on the court motionless. You'd watched him and Tanaka collide, unable to celebrate the point they had scored because you were waiting for the captain to get up. Still he lay there. Why was it taking so long for him to get back up? He dove for the ball a thousand times before and always got right back up. He shouldn't still be lying there.

Injury was always a possibility, but it was the type of possibility you could ignore until it threw itself in your face. A jammed finger, a twisted ankle, a bruise or two... Those were easy injuries to swallow. Getting knocked out during a game after colliding with a teammate was the type of injury that pulled the rug out from under you. You weren't the one lying on the court, but you found yourself struggling for breath.

Finally he moved. He was slow, you could tell, taking his time to lift himself onto his forearms, then sit up. Coach Ukai and Mr. Takeda were there kneeling next to him now. The rest of the team hovered around them. You saw Daichi start to get to his feet, and for the first time in what felt like hours, you breathed normally. Somehow seeing him on his feet gave you hope that it had looked worse than it was.

"Yachi, you should go down there," Saeko said, her voice low from worry.

"Right." Yachi looked bewildered and scared, exactly how you felt. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure.

"Let's go, Hitoka-chan." You stepped forward, and that seemed to signal to the younger manager to move. You quickly followed her down the stairs and around to the gym entrance. You weren't sure what the policy was for friends accompanying injured players, but you couldn't wait in the stands to find out if he was going to be okay.

By the time you got to the gym entrance, Daichi and Coach Ukai were already partway down the hallway. You glanced back at the court quickly enough to catch your best friend's eyes, to read her worry, but she nodded to you, and you nodded back. Kiyoko would keep watch over the rest of the team. She was entrusting Daichi to you.

"Coach!" Yachi called as the two of you jogged to catch up.

"Hey Yachi." He didn't seem surprised that you were there, too, giving you a nod in greeting.

"Y/N," Daichi spluttered.

"Your mouth is bleeding!" you observed as he wiped some blood from his lips with a towel he was holding to his cheek.

"Try not to talk," Coach Ukai scolded. "He lost a tooth."

"A whole tooth?" Yachi squeaked.

"It's just a tooth. We're more worried about a possible concussion."

You pressed your lips together and didn't say anything more. In a moment you made it to the medical room. Someone must have notified them that you were coming, because the nurse ushered Daichi inside immediately. Yachi ducked in after him, and Coach Ukai gave you a sympathetic look as he followed.

"This shouldn't take long," he promised before pulling the door closed.

You stood in the middle of the hallway for a moment, alone. You could hear the background buzz of the volleyball tournament echoing around corners and down the stairs. Warm-ups and games were continuing on around you. It seemed impossible when you were so worried. Your brain was replaying the moment Daichi collided with Tanaka and the tense seconds after when he didn’t move. The fact that he was walking and coherent was good, but you’d feel better once you heard the nurse’s diagnosis.

It felt like you had been pacing the same five feet of hallway for hours when Coach Ukai emerged from the medical office.

"He's fine," he reassured you. "There are no signs of a concussion. The pain and bleeding inside his mouth are the current concern, but they've given him some ibuprofen. He'll be good to go for the next game."

"He won't return to the Wakunan game?" you asked. You knew Daichi would be itching to rejoin the team and do his part to guarantee their victory. He trusted his team to get the job done, but he loved playing volleyball. He'd want to fight for his spot in nationals himself.

"I'm going to let him rest for a while," the coach explained. "He was shaken up a bit, and I'd rather have him back at full capacity than rush things."

"Right." You nodded, though your heart squeezed in sympathy for the benched captain.

"I'm going to head back to the match, so you can go in and sit with him if you'd like." Coach Ukai reopened the door for you, already knowing that you would take his offer.

"Thanks." You slipped inside, not sure what exactly you would find. Daichi was sitting on an examining table holding an ice pack to his cheek. Yachi sat on a chair next to him looking more worried than he did. The nurse was filling out a form at a small desk and barely glanced up when you entered.

"Y/N, you're still here." Daichi seemed surprised. You were glad to note that this time he didn't dribble blood, though the words were a bit clumsy in his sore and slightly numb mouth.

"Of course." You perched in the only empty chair in the small room. "I hear you don't have a concussion. That's good."

"Yeah, I'm fine." There was a hint of frustration beneath his words. It wasn’t directed at anyone, but you understood it. If he’d had a concussion, it would have been easier to understand why he wasn’t allowed back into the game right away.

“You were knocked out for nearly half a minute!” Yachi squeaked. “You need to give your body time to recalibrate.”

“Yachi’s right,” you agreed. Even though her anxiety was apparent, Yachi was holding her ground against her captain’s desire to return to the court. You were impressed.

Daichi exhaled heavily but didn’t argue. You caught his eye and smiled sympathetically. The corners of his lips curled in reply before he quickly looked away. You thought his cheeks looked a little pink, but it could have been an effect of the ice pack.

The nurse set down his pen and turned to his current patient.

“Open up.”

He used a penlight to check the inside of Daichi’s mouth, then inspected the swelling of his cheek.

“How’s the pain?”

“Manageable. Definitely better than it was.”

“Your mouth has stopped bleeding and the swelling isn’t bad. I’m going to let you return to the game. But if you start feeling dizzy or nauseous at all, you need to tell your coaches and sit out. There’s still a chance you suffered a concussion.”

“Right. Thank you.” Daichi was already on his feet, setting the ice pack on the examining table.

“Here’s the paperwork and some notes on suggested treatment and signs of a concussion.” The nurse held a folder out to Yachi. She hesitated a moment before taking it.

“Thank you! I promise I’ll keep an eye on him!”

After another round of expressing your gratitude, the three of you left the medical office.

“They’re probably still in the third set,” Yachi mused optimistically, leading you forward at a quick pace. You hovered half of a step behind Daichi, watching him out of the corner of your eye just in case he suddenly got dizzy. You could see the focus on his face as he mentally prepared to return to the game. It felt too soon to let him go back. The horrific image of the collision and his suddenly fragile body lying on the court still loomed in your mind. But you loved him, and he loved the game, so you wanted him to get back on the court.

“They’re still playing!” Yachi announced as she spotted black jerseys shifting past the entrance to the gym. You all paused outside, watching the beautiful symphony of team coordination and power as Karasuno completed a successful volley. The cheers of the crowd and energy from the game had adrenaline coursing through you already. You’d been in this environment so many times this year, but it still excited you.

You looked at Daichi, fully expecting to see the same excitement on his face. Instead you saw pride and sadness in his eyes as he watched his team. Some of his focus had faded into a reflective observation.

You suddenly thought of that moment a few months ago on the stairwell. He hadn’t been ready to leave the team then, but now he was facing the reality that soon he would have to. One day Karasuno’s season would end, and the third years would have to leave. Watching them play now was a preview of what they would be without him.

But it was also his legacy. For the past three years, he had been encouraging his teammates to work for this dream, and the result was before your eyes. You’d seen every game this year, and you could tell that they were hungry enough for the national stage that they would get there.

Without thinking, you reached for Daichi’s hand. He looked surprised when he glanced at you, but his expression softened as he studied your face. He squeezed your hand, and you felt a blush creeping up your neck.

“Daichi?” Yachi asked, no doubt wondering why he hadn’t entered the gym to rejoin his team.

“On second thought, I think I’ll sit the rest of this game out.” He dropped your hand. “I could use the extra rest and give the pain more time to wear off.”

“Oh.” She frowned a bit. “Do you need more ibuprofen?”

“No no, I’m fine.” He grinned as much as he dared without wincing. “I’m just going to grab my jacket. You two should get back in the stands or you’ll miss the end of the set.”

You watched him head towards the equipment room where the players were storing their bags while they played. Your hand was warm where he had held it a moment before. You wanted to run after him, but you felt conflicted. He might want to be alone for a bit.

“Is he really okay?” Yachi asked quietly. You looked at this young girl who would soon replace your best friend on the team. You were proud of Kiyoko for preparing her for the years ahead, and you were proud of Yachi for already doing so much to take care of this team. It would be hard to say goodbye, but the team would be in good hands.

“Don’t worry,” you said, squeezing her arm in quiet reassurance. “I’ll check on him. Keep an eye on the rest of the team.”

She turned back to the game while you headed to the equipment room. You weren’t sure what you were going to say to him, but you needed to say something. The past hour had been too emotionally tumultuous to keep all of your feelings to yourself. It was now or never.

“Daichi?” you asked softly as you poked your head into the room.

“Y/N.” He was pulling his arm through the sleeve of his jacket. He looked okay. “Come to check on me? I feel fine. I don’t need a babysitter,” he chuckled.

“I know.”

“Then why aren’t you watching the game and cheering for Karasuno like you promised?”

“I promised to cheer for you,” you confessed, “and you promised to be on the court.”

“I guess I’m not holding up my end of the bargain.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked as you stepped towards him.

“Are you?” His eyes searched yours with concern and...something else. Something that warmed you and made you move on instinct, wrapping your arms around him. You let him hold you for a moment without saying anything, taking comfort in the fact that he was here, alive, breathing. You were almost too relieved to just enjoy how good his hug made you feel.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you mumbled against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.”

You pulled back far enough to look at him, and the way he looked back at you brought a blush to your cheeks. He chuckled.

“What?” you asked, the blush deepening.

“You’re just really cute when you talk to me.”

“Wha-,” you spluttered. “What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

“I like you, Y/N,” he confessed, and your heart skipped a beat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. With everything happening this year, I just never seemed to find a good time.”

“I know,” you assured him, though inside you were giddy with happiness. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“Really?” He blinked, and the fact that he was still surprised made you laugh. You kissed him gently on his non-bruised cheek before pulling back towards the door.

“Really. Now come on. The team needs its captain back on the court.”

He was blushing deeply as he took your hand and walked back to the gym.

“Hey Daichi, can you do me a favor?” you asked as Yachi came in sight.

“Sure.”

“Keep winning so you can go to nationals, okay? I want to keep cheering for you for as long as I can.”

He chuckled and pressed a shy and grateful kiss to your forehead.

“Thanks Y/N. With you at every game, I’m sure we can win.”

#daichi #sawamura daichi #daichi sawamura #daichi x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #hq scenarios #karasuno #hq fanfic #daichi fanfic #hq reader insert #karasuno-chaos

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sesamestreep · 4 years

Text

stack the deck with wild cards (chapter 1)

(read on AO3)

SUMMARY: The situation with Cassian is complicated even before Jyn finds out she's pregnant, but deciding to get an abortion should really be the last straw for him, right? If there was any chance he'd still want to date her, she thought it had to be long gone by now. And yet he always finds a way to surprise her. [AKA - The Obvious Child AU you didn't know you wanted]

A/N: I’m going to be posting chapters of this fic daily, since it’s already completed. I never write chapter fic, so I have no idea what I’m doing and please bear with me. Also, this fic (and the movie it gets its plot from) is about abortion, so if that’s not something you’re into reading about, you should really strongly consider not reading this. I promise you won’t hurt my feelings. For those interested, there’s additional notes if you follow the AO3 link above. If you want to blacklist any future updates of this fic on tumblr, I’ll tag it with [#stack the deck verse] for your convenience. Chapter 2 should be posted tomorrow. Stay golden.

The reality of the current situation doesn’t hit Jyn at the doctor’s office when she gets the news or even when she’s booking her follow-up appointment. It doesn’t sink in when they tell her how much it will cost or give her the information she’ll need or the prescriptions to fill. It doesn’t hit her when she’s on the subway, heading home and texting Bodhi with numb fingers to see if he wants to have a movie night, or even when his cheery reply—replete with emojis—comes through saying he can come over tonight.

No, the moment everything becomes real is when she’s standing in the wine aisle at Trader Joe’s, going back and forth on whether spending eight dollars on a bottle of wine so that she can drink all of it in one sitting is irresponsible when she’s pregnant but she’s also not keeping the baby. It’s only then that she starts crying.

She’ll blame it on the hormones if anyone asks, she decides, which might even be accurate. She’s not really a crier under normal circumstances, but even if she wasn’t pregnant, she’s pretty sure draining her savings account for a medical procedure that she wouldn’t need if she had just been a little more responsible with her body would make her cry no matter how tough she thinks she is. Lucky for her, though, she lives in New York City and no one bats an eye at a crying woman in the grocery store. An older woman with a toddler in the seat of her grocery cart passes by and nods in understanding without saying a word, which is oddly comforting.

It’s the reminder that she needs to be careful about her money that talks Jyn out of buying wine for this evening (Bodhi probably wouldn’t have any and she doesn’t need to drink an entire bottle by herself under any circumstances, let alone these, even if she really really wants to), but she goes on to throw whatever snacks she wants into the cart indiscriminately because it has been a spectacularly shitty day. She spends more than she should (what else is new?) and sweats profusely trying to drag all of it back to her sixth floor apartment. She slams cabinet doors in frustration as she puts everything away and then takes the longest, hottest shower her shitty pipes in her shitty apartment will allow. When she emerges, her skin is bright pink and she pokes her stomach viciously, somehow annoyed and confused and relieved all at the same time that it gives away nothing of her current condition.

She spends too long sitting in a towel on her bed, dicking around on her phone instead of getting ready and ultimately decides Bodhi doesn’t care what her hair looks like and so she runs a comb through it and calls it done. She puts on her softest, stretchiest leggings and an ugly sweater she raided from her dad’s closet when she was a teenager that she loves because it has been washed and worn so many times that the sleeves now have holes in them that she can stick her thumbs through. It’s easily the least glamorous look she could have come up with, but she’s pregnant and she’s mad about it, so she’s going for comfort over style.

By the time the buzzer goes off, signaling Bodhi’s arrival, Jyn has managed to light a few candles and put some of the snacks she bought into bowls, so at least it looks like she put effort into some part of the evening. She presses the button to let him up and fidgets as she waits to open the door. She has to tell Bodhi as a trial run for telling…well, everyone else, basically…but a part of her wants to tell no one, deal with it by herself and pretend nothing is wrong. Of course, that would be stupid—the doctor even told her not to try and handle this by herself—but it seems more appealing than the alternative at this particular moment. It’s not possible, though. She needs someone to come with her to the appointment, at the very least, and Bodhi will do it without hesitation, that much she’s sure of.

When she hears footsteps in the hallway, she undoes the locks and opens the door. She takes a deep breath that is immediately squeezed out of her when Bodhi wraps her in a big hug.

“It’s so good to see you,” he says, rocking her a little side to side as he embraces her. “I’m so glad you suggested this! I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately.”

“I know,” Jyn says, clinging a little. Her eyes feel misty again already and that is definitely the hormones’ fault.

Bodhi pulls back to smile at her and his eyes catch on the candles and food. He gives her a suspicious look. “Okay, if this is an intervention for spending too much time with my new boyfriend, I know I deserve it but also I would have expected a much better turn out. You couldn’t even get Cassian here?”

Jyn winces at the mention of Cassian’s name but she thinks she covers it quickly with a forced smile. “It’s not an intervention,” she says as she steps around him to close the door.

“So why all the fanfare for a regular movie night?”

“What fanfare? There’s no fanfare!”

“Jyn, you put cheese puffs in a bowl ,” Bodhi says, as if she’s being obtuse. “You’re gonna have to wash that later. You did not have to do that for me.”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to make a joke— I’m nesting —but she refrains. “It’s no big deal,” she says, instead, and gestures to the couch for him to take a seat.

“If you say so,” he replies, still eyeing her warily and not taking the hint.

“Why don’t we sit down?” She finally asks, sounding strange and false even to her own ears. She leads the way over to the couch and Bodhi follows her, eventually lowering himself into the armchair with the same demeanor of someone approaching a wild animal.

“Jyn, seriously,” he says, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees once she’s curled up like a cat across from him, “is everything alright? You’re acting...odd.”

“Everything is fine,” she says, lightly, and hopes that saying so makes it true. “I just, uh, need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

Jyn twists her hands together nervously, not sure how to get started now that the moment is finally here. “I need you to promise you’re not going to freak out,” she says, stalling for time.

“Ah, yes, that thing everyone says when everything is, in fact, totally fine.”

“Bodhi…”

“You’re leaving New York, aren’t you?” He asks, worried. “To be closer to Saw?”

“What? No, I—”

“Oh my god, it’s not Saw, is it?! He didn’t die, did he?”

“No, Saw is fine,” Jyn says, resisting the urge to rub her temple in frustration. “I mean, he’s not fine , obviously, he’s still sick, but he’s not—”

“Tell me you’re not quitting the band,” Bodhi interrupts. “Listen, I know things have been crazy lately, but I think—”

“Bodhi, I’m pregnant,” Jyn shouts, and the silence that follows is overwhelming.

“You’re…?”

“Pregnant. With child. Expecting,” she says, bitterly. “Yes.”

He looks like he’s been hit over the head with a mallet, which is bizarrely satisfying. She handled the news better and it was actually happening to her.

“How long have you known?” He asks, after a long time and with apparent effort. It’s not the first question she expected, but it’s not totally surprising.

“Like, five hours.”

“Five—?” Bodhi shakes his head in what she thinks is disbelief. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Jyn just blinks in response. What is he talking about? “Sorry?”

“You and Reece broke up like six months ago, how did you not realize you were pregnant sooner?” He asks.

“I…Bodhi, I’m not six months pregnant,” Jyn sputters. She smacks her stomach to drive home the point, which in retrospect is a stupid move, but she’s not thinking straight. “I mean, do I look it?”

“No! No,” he says immediately. “That’s why I was so confused, but you…you haven’t been with anyone since the breakup. You would have told me.”

When Jyn says nothing in response, just bites her lip, Bodhi narrows his eyes at her. “You would have told me, right?” He asks.

Jyn takes a deep breath, looking down at her hands. “I’m eight weeks pregnant,” she says, feeling close to tears again. “I found out today, I have an appointment in a few weeks to—to terminate it. I just need someone to go with me, the nurse said I had to, otherwise I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Jyn,” he says, placing his hand over hers. “Of course, I’ll go with you. I just—I’m not upset with you, you know that, right?”

She nods, even though she doesn’t feel altogether certain of it. She loves Bodhi and trusts him, more than she trusts almost anyone else, but she’s not convinced she deserves to have him be nice to her after she’s fucked things up this badly. He ought to be upset with her.

“I know,” she says, anyway. A single tear escapes, which is just perfect. “I’m upset with myself.”

“Are you okay?” Bodhi asks, delicately. “Did this person hurt you or force you in some way?”

“No, no. God, no,” Jyn says, pulling her hands free with more aggression than the act required. She wipes the tears away in annoyance. “Nothing like that.”

“Thank God,” he says, looking heavenward and everything. “Then why all the secrecy? I texted you the minute I finished hooking up with Taidu for the first time.”

Jyn laughs even as she continues crying. “I did not ask you to do that.”

“No, but...not even a braggy ‘I just got laid!’ text? I thought we were best friends!”

“We are,” she replies hastily. “I was just embarrassed.”

“Why?” He asks, intrigued. “Is this person weird? Are they famous?”

She laughs again, feeling better in spite of the bomb she’s about to drop. “No, Bodhi…”

“They’re not married, are they? Because I promise not to judge you, but come on!”

“They’re not married.”

“Good, because for a second I was worried you slept with Baze and that would definitely break up the band,” he says, solemnly.

Jyn smacks his shoulder half-heartedly. “I would never sleep with Baze,” she says. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Fine,” Bodhi says. “So, it was Chirrut, then?”

“Bodhi!”

“Well, you’re being so cryptic,” he shoots back. “If you just told me—”

“I slept with Cassian.”

Bodhi just blinks at her for a long, torturous moment. She’s never actually seen Bodhi yell at anyone before, so she doesn’t know if that’s what is about to happen but she braces herself for it anyway.

“What,” he finally says, flat like a statement and not a question.

“I had sex with Cassian and now I’m pregnant,” she says firmly, as if just admitting it out loud isn’t making her heart hammer in her chest.

“You’re pregnant with Cassian’s baby,” Bodhi says, disbelieving and Jyn winces. She’s been trying not to think of it as an actual baby, because she’s not keeping it. But if she did nothing for seven more months, she would have a baby and it would be Cassian’s, in a purely biological sense. She doesn’t admit to that line of thinking to Bodhi, though.

“Yes,” she says, instead. “Technically,” she adds, because she can’t stop herself.

“Technically? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just—Getting someone pregnant doesn’t make a man a father,” she says, with more heat than she intended. “Raising a child does. And there’s not going to be a child, so…that’s all I meant.”

“Sorry,” Bodhi says, placing his hands over hers again. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just so surprised.”

“You didn’t upset me,” Jyn replies, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s these stupid hormones, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. He moves to sit next to her on the couch, and she folds her legs up to give him room. “How did he take it when you told him?”

Jyn winces again before she can stop herself and she knows she doesn’t hide her reaction quickly enough from the way Bodhi stands abruptly. He always paces when he’s freaked out.

“Jyn, please tell me Cassian knows,” he pleads as he makes a circuit around her coffee table.

“I’ve only known for half a day! I haven’t had a chance to tell him!”

“Why would you tell me and not him?”

“You’re my best friend!”

“It’s his baby!”

“I wanted to make sure you could come to my appointment with me,” she says, and hopes the reminder is enough to make him feel sorry for her. He only stops pacing, but that’s still an improvement. “I was hoping you’d tell me what to do,” she adds, since it’s the actual truth.

“Well, obviously, go to your appointment,” Bodhi says, sinking back onto the couch.

“No, I mean—what I should do about Cassian?”

Bodhi looks over at her, confused. “What do you mean, what should you do about him? Tell him what’s going on.”

“I know, but how?”

“Same way you told me. Use your words.”

“Can I text him?”

“Absolutely not,” he says, scandalized. “You can’t tell him you’re pregnant via text. Who raised you?!”

“Saw.”

He acknowledges that with a nod. “Fair point.”

“I bet you’re going to say I can’t leave him a voicemail either,” Jyn says.

“You’re right, but mostly because no one under the age of eighty checks their voicemail anymore,” he says, patting her knee absently.

“Really?”

“Really,” Bodhi replies. “Just...sit down with him and tell him what’s going on. Same as you did with me.”

“It’s different with you.”

“It’s not that different.”

“It’s not your baby I’m aborting,” Jyn says quietly. “And you love me.”

Bodhi looks over at her then, some strange mix of emotions playing out on his face. She half expects him to object and say something ridiculous like Cassian does love her, and the very idea stresses her out. When he doesn’t say that, though, she finds herself oddly disappointed.

“Cassian’s a good guy. He’ll understand,” he says, instead, as if she doesn’t know that somehow. As if that isn’t a huge part of why this situation sucks so bad. As if she isn’t mortified that she has to involve him in something like this. As if she isn’t furious with herself because this is going to blow any chance she ever had with him in the first place. As if she hadn’t already done that by hooking up with him and then never calling him afterwards.

“I know,” Jyn says, looking down at her hands. She doesn’t actually know that—that he’ll understand. She thinks she knows Cassian fairly well, in a casual way. They’re mostly friends through Bodhi but they see a lot of each other. She suspects, from things he’s said before about politics, that he’s probably okay with abortion in a general sense, but it’s different when it’s your potential kid. She can’t actually be certain he’ll be cool with it, but she’s also not asking his permission. She just thinks he deserves to know. Or maybe she just wants an excuse to call him, for all this is the worst possible one the universe could have handed her.

“It’s just weird,” she adds, after a minute lost in thought, “for this to be the thing I call him about, after we hooked up. It feels shitty.”

“Wait, hold on,” Bodhi says, waving his hand dramatically at her. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I don’t know what you think I’m saying.”

“Have you not talked to him since you slept with him?”

“I haven’t,” Jyn says, bracing herself. Bodhi opens his mouth to interject, so she continues quickly, stopping him. “But, in my defense, it was right before the holidays and then he was out of town for like a month, so it seemed weird to reach out, and—”

“Jyn,” he says, and his tone is so full of reproach, it shuts her up immediately. “None of those are good reasons and I think you know that.”

“It’s not like he and I talk a lot anyway,” she objects, but it’s futile, if Bodhi’s unimpressed look is any indication. “We mostly see each other at the shows and the band didn’t have any in December, so I just haven’t had the chance. That’s all.”

“Okay, so none of it had to do with your overwhelming fear of intimacy and vulnerability?”

“No…?”

“Very convincing,” Bodhi says, and Jyn shoves him.

“Shut up,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, if that’s not what happened,” he says reasonably, “you have to tell me what did.”

“What—you want details?!”

Bodhi shrugs. “You hooked up with my roommate and didn’t tell anyone about it for almost two months. There must be a reason.”

“Maybe it was bad,” she says, petulantly.

He just gives her an arch look in reply, which she deserves. “Was it bad?” He asks, bored.

Jyn bites her lip, hard. “No,” she admits. “It actually really wasn’t.”

“Well, then. Spill!”

She sighs dramatically—more dramatically than the situation deserves, honestly, and it’s already a pretty dramatic situation. “What do you want to know?

“When did this happen?”

“By my doctor’s estimate, eight weeks ago.”

“Jyn, for the love of—!”

“I was just trying to lighten the mood,” she says, for all she was actually just trying to stall. “It was that night we played at that terrible hipster bar in November.”

“Jyn, we exclusively play at terrible hipster bars. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“It’s the one with the arcade games in the back? It’s changed names like three times this year?”

“ Oh , that place. Yeah. What is that place’s name?”

“No clue,” Jyn says, with a shrug. “But it was at that bar.”

Bodhi’s eyes widen, though whether it’s with shock or delight or both, she’s not sure. “You hooked up with him at the bar ?”

“No, no. We went home together afterwards, once the rest of you had left.”

“I knew it,” he practically shouts. “I knew something was up that night!”

“You did not!”

“Yes, I did. You can ask Taidu, I definitely said something about it to him.”

Jyn waves him off, not because she’s convinced but because she’s not going to bother Taidu about something this stupid. “Whatever.”

“You still haven’t told me how it happened.”

“Do you need me to explain how sex works? Because I feel like you get the general idea.”

“No, smartass,” he says with an eye roll. “I mean, you and Cassian hang out at bars all the time together and you’ve never hooked up before. So, what happened this time?”

“Well,” Jyn says, taking a steadying breath, “you and Taidu left early for some reason and you said you were going to stay at his place. And Baze and Chirrut left right after that, because I think that’s when Baze had that terrible cold.”

“Jyn, no offense, but who cares?”

“You asked me what was different about that night! I’m explaining!”

“Okay, fine,” Bodhi allows. “It was different because we all callously abandoned you.”

“Yes, thank you! Anyway, it was just me and Cassian at the bar and I had just ordered another drink when Baze and Chirrut decided to leave and I was giving them a hard time about it and Cassian offered to stay with me for another round, so I wouldn’t have wasted my money or have to drink alone.”

“How gallant of him.”

“No editorializing,” she snaps, and Bodhi dutifully mimes locking his mouth and throwing away the key. “Anyway, we had a couple more drinks, we had sex, and now I’m pregnant. The end.”

“Fine,” he says, giving up. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I was just interested because you’re both my friends and I love you. Also, I know how hard the break-up was on you, so I was excited that you felt comfortable enough to move on. But you clearly don’t want to talk about it, so forget it!” He pivots away from her on the couch and leans forward to grab some popcorn. “What movie are we watching, anyway?”

Jyn groans in frustration. He’s always been way too good at guilt-tripping her into anything she doesn’t want to do. “You’re such a brat!”

“What? I’m changing the subject, like you clearly want to!”

“I’m embarrassed, Bodhi!”

“I don’t see why,” he says, looking at her blankly. “Cassian is good looking and he’s not a creep. You could do way worse. You have, in fact.”

She punches him in the shoulder in retaliation. “Hey!”

“What? I mean, you dated Reece for two years and he wasn’t exactly a catch. Cassian is an improvement, in my opinion.”

“I see we’re not sparing my feelings anymore where Reece is concerned.”

Bodhi covers her hand with his own. “Jyn, that guy cheated on you for a long time, and then he broke up with you so he could be with the other woman—right before you went onstage to perform, I should mention—and he had the audacity to blame you for the cheating because you ‘didn’t give him enough attention,’” he says, with the most judgemental use of air quotes she’s ever seen. “I care about your feelings, truly I do. But I do not care about Reece and I will not pretend you aren’t way better off without him.”

“I’m not his biggest fan either,” she says, defensively. “But what does it say about me that I dated him for all that time without realizing what a dick he was?”

“That he was an even bigger scrub than we thought, because he managed to hide his true colors for so long,” Bodhi says, easily. “You’re not responsible for his actions.”

Jyn wants to believe him, and most days she already, mostly does. But sometimes she catches herself replaying the break-up in her head and the part where Reece said that if she’d really cared, if she’d really been in their relationship for the long haul, she’d have paid more attention to him and he would never have even thought about cheating. She’d left him no choice, with all her weird part-time jobs and her crazy schedule and her gigs with her silly little band all over the city in the middle of the night. If she were more together, if she knew what she wanted from her own life, she could have been there for her partner, but she was too much of a mess. Too much of a work-in-progress to be the sort of girlfriend someone wanted to be serious with.

“I know,” she says, half-heartedly. If Bodhi’s told her this once, he’s told her a thousand times. Maybe she’ll really believe it someday, but not quite yet. “It just gets in your head, when someone treats you like that. You start to wonder if you have a neon sign over your head that says you’re not really relationship material.”

“You do not have a neon sign over your head that says anything of the kind,” Bodhi reassures her, surprisingly earnestly. “If your relationship with Reece needed work, he could have brought those issues to you to resolve them. Instead, he cheated on you. He took the easy way out and then blamed you when it made him look like an asshole. That’s on him.”

Jyn sighs, hating how often she and Bodhi have to have this conversation or some variation of it. She wishes she could just magically not be upset about it anymore, but it’s not like she didn’t have trust issues before this. The situation with Reece just made them worse. That was part of the appeal of hooking up with Cassian; she wanted to get back out there and feel desirable again, but she couldn’t do it with just anybody. Cassian was safe because she knew him and trusted him, but they weren’t super close, so it’s not like hooking up with him would ruin their friendship. He knew enough of what happened with her breakup to know that it was just a rebound, but not enough about her mental state to worry about her when she initiated things between them. She didn’t need someone to worry about her; she just needed someone to take her home.

The bar had been surprisingly busy that night, probably because some local favorite band was on after their set and they had a weirdly devoted following. Even though the rest of their group had abandoned them, the spots around Jyn and Cassian at the bar quickly filled in with noisy patrons, which left them no choice but to lean close to each other when they talked. Cassian’s arm had been curled around the back of the barstool that she was perched on, not possessively but in a way that didn’t encourage anyone to interrupt them. Jyn didn’t object; she didn’t want to talk to anyone else anyway.

Something about having Cassian’s full attention, her elbow brushing his ribs anytime she reached for her drink and feeling the warmth radiating off him in the already overly warm bar, felt nice in a way that went right to her head. She was shamelessly leaning into it, both literally—if she had curled any further into him, she would be hugging him—and figuratively—asking him personal questions she’d never bothered with before and laughing a little too loudly at his answers in a way that would have probably made him suspicious if she hadn’t distracted him by constantly touching his arm. It was the oldest trick in the book, and he must have known that, but Jyn wasn’t really in the mood to be subtle anyway.

If he was wary of her motives in flirting with him so obviously, he hadn’t mentioned any of his concerns to her. Cassian tends to be wary as a rule, which is part of why Jyn trusts him. He’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop too, just like she is. There’s a subtle understanding between them as a result. Other than that, Jyn had never given him much thought. Sure, he’s good looking, even when he comes to their gigs still in his clothes from the office, which make him look like an accountant. He’s not actually an accountant, though; he works at some organization that works with kids in the foster system, which is the sort of job that immediately put Jyn on edge when she first heard about it after he’d moved in with Bodhi. She’s technically a freelance illustrator, but since that doesn’t pay the bills with any consistency, she also works all sorts of other odd jobs to make up the difference. She doesn’t have a 401K or a high yield savings account, but she’s pretty sure Cassian does, even if he’s also probably underpaid. But he’s underpaid in the good way, the what-a-Saint way, while Jyn is underpaid in the no-one-values-your-skills, get-a-real-job way. So, at first, she’d been a little suspicious of him.

But, back then, he was Bodhi’s new roommate who also took him up on the invitation to come see his band play during one of their glamorous midnight slots at some crummy dive bar, which earned him a little respect in Jyn’s mind. When he kept showing up, she was surprised. It didn’t seem like his scene at all, but when she said as much to him one night, he’d given her a self-conscious smile and said that coming to Bodhi’s shows gave him the pretense of a social life when his co-workers asked what he did with his free time. He had a tendency to look worried or miserable when left to his own devices, but self-deprecation was a good look on him and it was nice to know he wasn’t dead serious all the time. They never became close friends after that, but Jyn always liked talking to him after the shows.

Something changed when she was going through the break-up, though. Cassian knew what happened, of course, enough to tell her he was sorry to hear about it from Bodhi, but they didn’t exactly talk in depth about it or anything. He treated her the same as he always had. The change had come from her, honestly. She’d always thought he was attractive, in that split-second way you decide when you first see someone, but she’d never given it any thought beyond that, really. But once the initial fog of I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening lifted after the break-up, she started to notice Cassian more and think about him in a way she hadn’t before. She was disappointed if he couldn’t make it to one of their gigs. She started to appreciate the dorky work outfits he wore to the dive bar venues they played and she liked talking to him after the set, when he’d give her his full attention like she was the most fascinating person in the world.

She couldn’t tell, though, if he was genuinely interested in her or if he just thought she was hot and (now) single. If she’d been smart, she would have figured that out before hooking up with him. Instead, the universe handed her the perfect opportunity to be alone with him, without any of their friends to talk them out of it or ruin the mood and she’d taken full advantage of it. She had felt almost dizzy with the possibility of it, that she could ask him to leave with her and that he’d probably say yes. Next to her, some drunk guy stumbled up to the bar and, in his haste, accidentally and rather fortuitously shoved her even further into Cassian’s arms. He’d tightened his hold on her to catch her fall and when she’d looked up, he was glaring at the man, who was completely oblivious to having made an enemy. It was ridiculously charming, to think he was offended on her behalf, as if her honor had been threatened. Really, what was she supposed to do then, except kiss him?

He’d been surprised, at first, and who could blame him? Sure, she’d been giving the corniest, most textbook signals that she was into him all night, but she hadn’t even known she was going to actually make a move until she did it. He recovered quickly, though, which was nice, and reciprocated immediately. Jyn’s not sure what she would have done if he’d asked questions or tried to talk things through first, even though she kind of expected it from him. They’d both had a few drinks, not enough to impair them by any means but just enough to embolden them.

His hand had come to rest on her back when she got pushed into him and she felt it flex, as if he was trying to hold her even closer. The other moved to her face as soon as she kissed him, though it was really just his thumb grazing her jaw, like he was worried she might turn away and he wanted to offer a slight incentive to stay where she was. She probably would have kept making out with him at the bar like they were college students or something, but she didn’t actually want to spend another second with the drunk patrons or the shitty band that was onstage. She wanted to be someplace else—anywhere else, really, so long as it meant she and Cassian could be alone. She pulled back, with great effort, and the look on Cassian’s face made her think he expected to be let down easy.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked, instead.

His eyebrows went up, as if that was the last thing he expected her to say. He closed his eyes, like gathering his thoughts was difficult at that moment. “I, uh—what are you asking?”

Jyn bit her lip, which was a bad habit of hers when she was nervous, but if it also happened, by pure luck, to look flirtatious, that was fine too. “I’m asking if you want to go back to your place and have sex with me,” she said, because she wasn’t about to waste time and not get exactly what she wanted out of this.

“Do I want that?” He’d asked, dumbfounded, and if she hadn’t just been having a completely normal conversation with him, she’d have worried he was drunker than she thought. But this was entirely her effect on him and it was incredibly flattering. “Do you?”

“I think the fact that I suggested it makes it pretty obvious what I want.”

Cassian had run his hand through his hair, clearly a nervous tic. “Yeah, but—yes, I would like that.”

He said the last bit decisively, as though he realized he might be accidentally talking her out of it with his hesitation. He needn’t have worried—Jyn has her mind made up about this—but she thought it was better to keep him on his toes than reveal that. She gave him a bright smile before turning to get the bartender’s attention. They paid their tab and got the hell out of there in record time.

When they left the bar, it was raining lightly, barely a drizzle at this point, but there was evidence that it had stormed earlier in the evening. The small heel on Jyn’s boots brought her close enough to Cassian’s height that, even standing outside the bar, she didn’t have to strain to reach him and pull him down for another kiss. His hands came to her hips to steady her anyway and she’d have happily continued like this for a while if the bouncers by the front door didn’t wolf whistle at them and ruin the moment.

They started walking to Cassian’s apartment without discussing it, like they agreed via telepathy that no cab driver would tolerate them given their current amount of PDA. It wasn’t a far walk, though, and Jyn had internally thanked the forces of the universe for making this happen at the closest bar to Cassian’s place, because she’s sure they would have lost their nerve over the course of a lengthy subway or cab ride. Instead, they headed for his apartment in silence, more because they were focused than not having anything to say. He held her hand the whole way, as if he was afraid she’d disappear if he wasn’t touching her. While they waited for a crosswalk signal at one corner, he pulled her into his side and kissed her again, like she really needed the reminder that he was a good kisser. How could she forget?

“He’s a really good kisser,” she says, suddenly, to Bodhi, as they sit together on the couch.

Bodhi scrunches up his nose, looking disgusted. “Who? Reece?”

“No! I’m talking about Cassian!”

“Oh!” His eyes light up. “I thought you didn’t want to.”

Jyn shrugs, noncommittal. She wants Bodhi’s reassurance that she didn’t fuck things up beyond repair and this is probably the only way to get that. “I’m obviously not going to tell you everything . But we can talk about it, a little. I guess.”

“Okay, but how good is he?”

“Is there an accepted scale I should use?”

“One to ten would suffice, I think. Ten being the best kiss you’ve ever had and one being…well, you already said it was good, so we don’t need to worry about that.”

She exhales noisily, not sure how to describe it. “I don’t know. I can’t even think of the best kiss I ever had.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

She punches him on the shoulder. “I hate you,” she says, petulantly. “It was really, really good. Definitely an 8.5 or a 9. Maybe a 9.5.”

“Really?!”

Jyn nods, feeling awkward. “Yeah. We made out for a really long time before we…well, before anything else happened.”

She doesn’t mention that she’d almost lost her nerve, when they first got back to Cassian’s apartment. Being in his bedroom, the idea of sleeping together suddenly became real and all of her tipsy confidence evaporated. She’d been in a relationship for two years—she’d thought she and Reece would move in together whenever their leases were up, even though she hadn’t had the confidence to bring it up to him before he turned around and left her for another woman—and suddenly she wasn’t ready to be with someone else. Naturally, Cassian had picked up on her change in mood and asked her what was wrong. She lied and said it was nothing, though he hadn’t looked convinced. To prove her point, she’d kissed him again, hard, trying to psych herself up, but he’d eased back, turning their kiss into something easier and softer. He’d kissed her like that for a while, his hands in her hair and on her jaw, not reaching for her clothes or straying anywhere new. It was only after they’d continued like that for a long time that Jyn felt her nerves mellow into pleasure and then sharpen into desire again. Even though they’d kept things fairly chaste, all of that kissing had made her want more, and she clearly had to be the one to take the lead.

“And was he a gentleman with you?” Bodhi asks primly, interrupting Jyn’s thoughts.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” she says, with a frown.

“Did he…how do I put this…take care of your needs?”

“Oh. Uh, yes.”

“First?” He asks, clearly enjoying himself.

“Yes,” Jyn replies, through gritted teeth. She leaves out the fact that she’d not-so-subtly rushed them past the point of foreplay so Cassian wouldn’t get any ideas. Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part, that he would have even tried something like that with her, that she got in the way of some grand plan of his to gallantly fulfill her needs before worrying about his own, but he had looked surprised when she took them straight from kissing to taking his clothes off to fucking him. Maybe it was a pleasant surprise, maybe he was relieved to find someone who didn’t expect so much effort from him. She didn’t ask. She just knew that she couldn’t handle the idea of it being unequal, of him being smug or, worse, expectant with her. She didn’t want to owe him anything, so they were going to have sex once and then she could move on. Naturally, she hadn’t counted on getting pregnant.

“I told him I was on the pill and I wasn’t,” she blurts out before she can stop herself.

The way Bodhi swings around to stare at her would be funny, under any other circumstances. “Why would you lie about that?” He asks, unable to keep the judgement out of his tone.

“I didn’t lie ,” she says. “I thought I was on the pill! I’ve been taking it for years, so I didn’t think anything of it. I forgot to get my prescription refilled a few months ago and I was like, ‘who cares?’ because Reece and I had just broken up and I was convinced I was never going to have sex again.”

“But then you had sex with Cassian!”

“I know! And I forgot I wasn’t on the pill anymore.”

Bodhi covers his eyes with his hands. “Please tell me you used a condom.”

“Cassian definitely offered,” she says, trying to sound upbeat.

“And you said, ‘yes, of course, because you’re a man I’ve never slept with before and that’s the safest way for us to have sex!’”

“No. I said, ‘it’s fine, don’t worry about it, I’m on the pill.’”

“Jyn!”

“Before you yell at me, I would like to remind you I’m already pregnant, so the worst case scenario has already happened.”

“That’s not the only reason you should use a condom!”

“I know, but I got tested for STDs when I went in for my pregnancy test and nothing has come back positive yet, so hopefully I’m not that unlucky.”

“Listen, I know you’re going through some stuff right now and I don’t want to pile on, but that was really risky,” he says, looking more serious than she’s ever seen him. “You have to promise me that you’ll be more careful.”

“I promise,” she says, feeling like a teenager being chastised. “Believe me, paying out of pocket for an abortion is a pretty great way for me to learn my lesson.”

“God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s my fault. Like you said, I wasn’t being careful.”

“That wasn’t—I’m not trying to hit your nose with a rolled up newspaper, Jyn. I’m just worried about you.”

“I know. This is why I was embarrassed. I made a complete idiot out of myself. And now I get to explain all of this to Cassian, which won’t be humiliating at all.”

“He’ll understand,” Bodhi says, with enviable levels of confidence. “He’s good like that.”

“I said I’d call him and I didn’t,” she says, trying not to cringe as she remembers how quickly she’d left after they’d had sex, how she hadn’t even looked Cassian in the eye when she promised to call. “Even if he was fine with a one-night stand, I still lied to him. I doubt he’ll be happy to hear from me, especially under the circumstances.”

“If the alternative is not hearing from you at all, I think he’d rather hear from you. No matter what the circumstances are.”

“I don’t know.”

“Jyn, you and Cassian are friends, even if you don’t think you’re particularly close. And you’ve slept together, which involves a certain level of intimacy—”

“Not the way I do it,” she jokes. Although there’s some truth to it, she thinks.

Bodhi smacks her with a pillow, which she completely deserves. “Call him or I’ll kick your ass.”

“God, fine!” She slouches down in her seat on the couch. “Do I have to do it right now?”

“God, no. I don’t want to be here for that conversation,” he says, grabbing another handful of popcorn. “Besides, you promised me a movie night. What are we watching?”

“I don’t care, as long as it doesn’t involve babies or pregnancy.”

Bodhi’s scrolling through the titles on Netflix as she speaks, nodding absentmindedly. “‘Sleepless in Seattle’?” He asks, when he lands on it.

“That totally has a baby in it!”

“The kid is, like, eight,” he argues. “And it’s not about the process of having kids!”

Jyn sighs, defeated. “Do you want to watch ‘Sleepless in Seattle,’ Bodhi?”

“Yes, but I’m mostly in it for Bill Pullman.”

“Fine,” she says, settling in next to him. “I’m probably going to fall asleep in twenty minutes, anyway.”

“That’s the spirit,” Bodhi says, and hits play.

#rogue one #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #bodhi rook #obvious child #obvious child au #baze malbus #chirrut imwe #star wars #abortion #abortion tw #my fic #my writing #stack the deck verse #otp: built on hope #otp: your mother and i have been together ever since #anyway here's wonderwall

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sdottkrames · 4 years

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Queen of Hearts (Chapter 2)

@comfortember prompt 29: make/build/create something beautiful

Summary: Months 6, 9, and 1 year with Baby Cammy Jane! (everyone is still in love!)

Notes: I hope you enjoy! I decided to do a third chapter because I just couldn’t let it go! 😭

Read on AO3: Here

Six Months

Teresa couldn’t decide if she’d rather have her daughter screaming, or this lethargy instead.

When Cammy got her 6-month shots, Teresa had fully expected her to scream (she had when she’d received her other shots). But today, she was just very quiet.

This wasn’t unusual, per se. Except for the month of hell where she’d refused to sleep, and the occasional tantrum, Cammy was a very happy and chill baby. (Teresa used it to endlessly tease Patrick, saying she definitely didn’t get that trait from him, to which he just scoffed and claimed that Teresa had never been chill a day in her life either with that troublemaker smile of his.) But this quietness felt different.

Usually when Cammy was quiet, it was because she was studying something intently (like her favorite rattle), having inherited her father’s keen eye. Or playing with one of her toys, or practicing rolling over. Today she wasn’t interested in doing any of those things, simply wanting to be held. Placing her on the ground had caused her bottom lip to pout and tremble, and her eyebrows to pull together. And really, how was Teresa supposed to refuse that?

After calling the doctor to hear that it’s a perfectly normal reaction, she resigned herself to snuggling on the couch with her sad six-month-old. Wrapping Cammy in a soft blanket and situating herself comfortably, she held her daughter close.

“Oh, baby. I’m sorry you’re not feeling good,” she murmured, rubbing the little girl’s back gently. She glanced at the clock. “It’s close enough to nap time, why don’t you take a little nap, huh?”

She kept gently rubbing Cammy’s back, humming softly like Patrick would when he put their daughter down.

The thought of Patrick made Teresa’s heart ache. He had to go to work, investigating the murder of some rich oil tychoon, and she found it kind of ridiculous to miss him so much. They’d been working more lately, leaving Cammy with Grace (the first time they’d done that had been a tearful event, even though they’d only been gone a few hours) but today Teresa had stayed home for Cammy’s appointment and had convinced Patrick to go without her.

She allowed herself to wallow for a little bit, but then turned her attention to more positive thoughts. She let the warmth of the blanket, and the soothing weight and sleepy snuffling sounds of her daughter surround her, and soon she fell asleep, as well.

When Jane got home about an hour later, he smiled at the sight of his two girls still asleep on the couch, and he couldn’t resist taking a picture. Teresa was just so cute, her face relaxed into a small smile, her hair splayed around her. And Cammy had obviously inherited that trait, because she looked like an absolute angel in Patrick’s totally, absolutely, completely unbiased opinion.

He set the picture as his lock screen and absolutely refused to change it.

9 Months

Cammy loved food. She’d never had trouble nursing and had taken like a champ to eating all kinds of puréed fruits, vegetables, and even meats. It all sounded rather disgusting to Patrick, but he was no baby, and the resident baby seemed to love it.

On the menu was mashed peas and carrots, and Patrick opened the plastic container, wrinkling his nose at the strange scent. No matter how many times he’d fed them to Cammy, he could not get over it.

“You really like these, huh?” He asked, and Cammy giggled in response, reaching boldly for the spoon he was holding. He handed her a secondary one he prepared for just such a moment, and it did the job, distracting the little girl enough for Patrick to take a swipe of the green goo. Cammy ate it happily, and then accepted another bite, and then another.

It wasn’t until the fourth or fifth bite that disaster struck.

As Patrick moved the fully loaded spoon towards her mouth, Cammy suddenly jerked her hands upward, squealing, and the spoon flicked backwards…launching the mashed peas right onto Patrick’s face.

Cammy was absolutely delighted, and Patrick couldn’t help but giggle along with her despite the mess on his face. He wiped his face on a nearby bib and tried to give his daughter another bite. However, she had other ideas. As the next spoonful neared her face, she threw her hands into the air with obvious purpose and the food went flying again.

Patrick tried to get more food into her mouth, he really did. But she was so entertained that he couldn’t get any food into her mouth without her arms going everywhere, launching food onto his face, his shirt, the walls.

Soon, Patrick and Cammy were both covered in stick green peas.

He was about to complain to his daughter about her lack of eating etiquette when, suddenly, a flash distracted him.

“Teresa,” he groaned. “While I’m covered in peas? Really?”

She laughed. “You don’t see Cammy complaining.”

Patrick rolled his eyes, but later that night, he snuck Teresa’s phone out of her pocket and sent the picture to himself. It really wasn’t a bad one, despite the green goo all over. Patrick smiled as he stared at his little girl’s happy, pea-covered face. She was smiling right at him.

He’d never get tired of that.

One Year

“I never pegged you for the type to be so particular about a simple party for a baby,” Patrick teased, bouncing a giggling Cammy on his hip.

Teresa had just gotten off the phone with the bakery who was making Cammy’s cake. They were an hour late for delivery, guests were about to arrive, and she had admittedly let the heat of the moment get to her a little. She probably hadn’t needed to call the driver an idiot.

At least Patrick was amused.

Teresa turned her icy glare on him, not that it had ever worked before. HOwever, the scathing comment that had been on the tip of her tongue dissolved as she took in her husband’s smile and the matching one on her daughter’s face. She melted and grinned mushily back at them instead.

Then the guests began to arrive, further distracting her.

First was Cho, ever punctual. He placed his surprisingly gaudy present on the table. Shortly thereafter was Abbot, then Grace and Wayne arrived with Ben and Maddy, then Wiley.

After greeting each guest, Patrick sat back and observed (he never could stop noticing each small detail) as each guest interacted with his daughter. It was clear that he and his wife were not the only ones helpless to her charms.

Little Benjamin had all but adopted Cammy as an honorary sister, and his parents said watching her was the highlight of their week. Even Cho cooed as he took a turn holding her, which surprised Patrick almost as much as when Abbot made a silly face just to hear Cammy’s delicious, adorable giggle. .

As Grace and Wylie bonded over computers, Wayne and Cho watched Maddy and Cammy play, trying (and failing) to keep from melting at the cuteness, and Abbott hovered in the fringes eating a brownie, Patrick held his wife and watched it all with growing fondness.

It was a perfect little slice of heaven, a beautiful, blissful moment only comparable to their wedding day, and Patrick can’t help getting a little misty-eyed.

“She really is very loved, huh,” he murmured into Teresa’s ear.

“Yeah. She’s a lucky baby.” She smiled, watching as Cammy squealed and banged a toy while Maddy giggled next to her. Literally every adult giggled along. “A beautiful, lucky little baby.”

As the sun sunk lower and lower, and the brownies and cake got smaller and smaller, Patrick and Theresa held close to each other, perfectly content and oh, so very grateful for the beautiful little family they had made for themselves.

#comfortember #comfortember 2020 #mine #the mentalist #baby jane/lisbon is my fav!

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charlieswan-squad · 4 years

Text

Twilight Rewrite First Sight (ii)

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it was like a prison cage, that after sixteen years was finally locking me in.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted optimism. Good luck tended to avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined the familiar kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing had changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house.

Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at; missing front teeth, the horrendous haircuts, the braces - I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here. It was impossible, being in this house, not to realise that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket - thick and unbreathing like a biohazard suit - and headed out into the rain.

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up. Only in a town like Forks, would it be normal for the chief of police to keep his house key in such an obvious place. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. It was a strange combination, but not totally unpleasant. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a bonus that I hadn't expected.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-coloured bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal

detectors? You know, all the homely aspects of a school in a city like Phoenix.

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading Front Office. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, friendly-looking woman wearing glasses. She was wearing an orange t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Bella Swan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. The Chief's daughter, the one with the unstable mom, come home at last.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school, Isabella." She brought several sheets to the counter to show me.

“Um, it’s Bella, please.”

“Oh, sure, Bella.”

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorise it now; determined I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. It won’t be that bad, I lied to myself feebly. Seriously Bella, it’s just high school, it wasn’t like anyone was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name - not a particularly encouraging response - and of course I felt blood rush to my cheeks. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed.

I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting… and boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.

"Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.

"Where's your next class?" he asked.

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes. I wondered if this is how animals felt in the zoo.

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitely over-helpful. "I'm Eric," he added.

I forced a smile. "Thanks Eric."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. Several people seemed to be walking too close behind us - like they were trying to eavesdrop or something. I hoped I wasn’t becoming paranoid.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.

"Very.”

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?”

"Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," I told him.

"You don't particularly look like you grew up in the sunshine." he laughed; most likely referring to the fact that I don’t even have freckles, or that, despite the rain, I wasn’t in shorts and flipflops with a baseball cap or something. I never did fit any of the Arizona-stereotypes.

"Well, you know what they say about vampires."

He studied my face apprehensively, and I stifled a groan. It looked like clouds and a sense of humour didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm.

“I’m joking, Eric.”

He began to laugh too loudly and forcefully to be real. I could still read the confusion in his eyes, suggesting he didn’t understand my joke, but at least he hadn’t run away screaming that the new girl is a freak. Just give it time.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful.

I smiled at him, in what I hoped was not an encouraging way and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in much the same way. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own feet on the way to my seat.

“Nailed it.” I thought snarkily.

After two classes, I started to recognise several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map.

Every one of my teachers called me Isabella, and though I corrected them immediately, it was depressing. I had decided at the age of three that I was Bella, and had refused to answer to anything else until Mom and Charlie got the message. At home, no one remembered that Bella was just a nickname; but now I had to start over again.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the canteen for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my average height, but her hair was pulled into a very tight ponytail on the top of her head which made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she rattled about teachers and classes and what gossip I had to catch up on. I barely listened let alone try to keep up.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them. At least I couldn’t complain about the manners here. They all seemed to think it was really cool and brave of her to invite me. Eric, the boy from English, waved at me from across the room, and my neighbours all laughed. I thought it must be a new record for me, already the butt of a joke. But none of them seemed nasty about it. That was something at least.

It was there, sitting in the canteen, attempting to make conversation with a bunch of strangers, that I first saw them. I was surprised it had taken me so long to notice them.

#twilight rewrite #charlieswan-squad #first sight #first sight part two #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn

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ifyoucouldholdme · 5 years

Text

Never Have I Ever

Pairing: Stenbrough

Word Count: 3137

Read on AO3

Maybe partying this hard was not the wisest choice, but it had been one hell of a week for Stan. After surviving midterm exams, there was also a group project, an oral presentation, and several papers to turn in. As well as his schoolwork, Stan also found himself actively avoid Bill. This turned out to be more difficult than he had first thought since they lived on the same hall of the dorms. Bill hadn’t actually done anything to warrant such a silent treatment, but lately Stan noticed himself developing a strange fixation on his easy-going friend. Little things would catch his eye. Bill’s stardust freckled face. The way he gently bit his bottom lip when concentrating on his novel of the week. Over time, Stan had come to terms with his sexuality regarding his faith and his religious upbringing. That did not change the fact that falling for a straight boy—a straight best friend—was begging for heartbreak. These thoughts couldn’t bother him if he kept himself from constantly seeing Bill.

This is why the glass of Moscato he usually nursed at these Losers’ Club get-togethers tonight became three shots of tequila with a Sprite chaser. The giddy lightheadedness, although not a sensation he usually enjoyed, was miles better than worrying about grades or schoolboy fantasies.

“Stanley, there you are!” An exuberant Eddie appeared seemingly from nowhere. “How did you end up in the kitchen, silly?” Stan had no recollection of making his way to a cross legged perch on top of the kitchen counter, but given the shots and his lovestruck musings, that wasn’t surprising. Eddie just shook his head, giggling. He grabbed Stan’s wrist and dragged him away, “Come on, Stanny-Bird, stop nesting by yourself. We’re about to start a game in the living room.”

“Isn’t Richie supposed to be the one with the stupid nicknames?” Stan teased, finding his voice once again.

Eddie flustered a bit. “Yeah, I guess he’s rubbed off on me, hasn’t he?”

“That’s not all I’ve done to you, Spaghetti, my love,” a plastered Richie crooned from atop their surprisingly sturdy coffee table.

“Fuck off, Tozier,” Eddie retorted with a middle finger and a sloppy wink.

“Will do, babe. Now get in the circle. I want to get some new dirt on you guys.” The boys dropped into place with the others. Stan felt a wave of joy mixed with his drunkenness as he glanced around at the rest of his friends. Beverly and Ben had already squished themselves the sole recliner available. Mike lounged in front of the television, probably already to drunk to move. Bill had, fortunately for Stan, had to finish a research paper of his own, which is the only reason Stan had allowed himself any alcohol in the first place.

“The name of the game,” Richie belted, “is Never Have I Ever! We each take turns declaring something we’ve never done, if nobody cheats,” he shot a narrow glare at Beverly, “and all you dirty sluts that have done it must take a sip of whatever drink they choose. Got it?”

“Shut up so we can get started,” Stan bossed louder than he anticipated. Richie eyed him with a curious gaze which made him tense a little. “Stan the Man! Eager beaver tonight. You’re usually the buzzkill in these things.”

That’s only when Bill’s here. Richie’s expression took a more mischievous shape. Did I say that out loud? Thankfully, Richie either took mercy on Stan or didn’t actually hear anything, because he plopped into his own spot next to Eddie. “Who’s going first?”

Bev leaned forward and almost toppled out of the chair. “I got one. Never have I ever snuck into someone else’s room after dark,” she slurred, sending a challenging smirk in Richie’s direction. He raised an eyebrow as he drank from his beer.

“I see how it is, Marsh,” he replied. Eddie chuckled playfully at the thought of Richie and Beverly duking it out. “Oh, you think that’s funny?” his boyfriend said from under a mess of unkempt bangs. “Alright, then. Never have I ever belted along to Mamma Mia in the shower.”

“Oh, you ass!” Eddie slapped his arm and took a drink. Across the circle, Ben tried to unsuccessfully hide his own raised glass. “See, at least Ben can appreciate some culture.”

Stan watched the ensuing tickle fight, a drunken smile tinged with a touch of longing on his face, unaware of the knock at the door behind him. He loved his friends more than even his own family, but the teasing banter between the couples twisted his chest into a jumbled mess. Every affectionate touch only reminded him that he would never be held by the one boy that he dreamt of. That he would never feel Bill’s hands in his. That when his night terrors woke him in the darkness, he would be alone no matter how fervently he prayed otherwise. At least tonight there was no sign of Bill to make him feel even worse, and he had the tequila to make him feel better.

“Give us a good one, Stanley. I’m getting bored over here,” Mike interrupted Stan’s pity party. He sputtered back to attention.

“My turn already?”

“Yeah, Eddie went to get the door, so you’re next,” Richie nudged him with a bony elbow. “Let’s have some scandals already!”

Stan’s mind drifted and muddled too much to think intricately enough to find anything racy enough for a drunk Trashmouth, so he settled on the first thing his addled brain suggested. “Never have I ever been naked in front of somebody. Well, besides my parents, anyway.” Then again, maybe he could.

“Well, damn,” Richie cawed, as he took another sip of his beer, along with all the other Losers. “I guess Stan the Man isn’t a man just yet. We’ll have to fix that soon, Virgin Stanny.” He gave Stan a salacious wink.

“S-Stan’s a v-v-virgin?” came the familiar voice, giving Stan chills.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no. He’s supposed to be busy tonight. Nevertheless, there stood Bill, cheeks as bright as the tuft of hair brushing the top of his brow. This monolith of Stan’s childhood had indeed arrived. He had tried so hard to avoid the other boy this week, and now he had to maneuver the evening through the haze of alcohol and lovestruck fantasies. Worst of all, because his stupid, unfiltered brain, his crush now knew he was completely inexperienced romantically. Shit.

Mike and Beverly erupted in a cheer upon seeing Bill make his way to the open spot directly across the circle from Stan, because of course he would. “We’re playing Never Have I Ever and apparently already learning some new secrets,” she explained, giving Stan an overly exaggerated grin. The poor boy anxiously bit his lip and stared at Bill, waiting for any reaction. Bill’s eyes were planted on him in an almost melancholy stare.

“I n-noticed,” he plainly stated.

Stan knew he shouldn’t have hidden from Bill and understood that the other must feel confused and likely hurt. After all, his best friend had basically stopped talking to him for most of a week, all because Stan couldn’t handle falling in love with Bill when he knew that Bill couldn’t love him back. Did Stan truly love Bill beyond a silly infatuation? Gazing at the sullen boy across from him—his leader, his inspiration— he supposed he did in fact love Bill. He loved him with all he was, no matter what his father or the Torah condemned. No matter the pain of his unrequited attachment.

“You guys skipped me?” Eddie exclaimed in only slightly exaggerated irritation. Richie tried to appease him with a giggly peck on the cheek but got an elbow in the ribs for his effort. “Aw, chillax, babe. You got up during your turn, and I’m impatient. I just wanna get to the dirty shit.”

“You want dirty?” Eddie snipped, “Fine.” He turned into the circle in a theatrical fashion usually expected from his ham of a lover. “Never have I ever sucked a dick in a public restroom!” Everybody tried to muffle a cacophony of snickers as Richie’s face turned a deep crimson.

“That is totally not fair, Eddie! You were there too.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a hand job.” He stuck out his tongue, satisfied and victorious.

“M-maybe I should’ve w-waited a f-few more minutes b-before coming over.” All eyes turned to watch a still blushing Bill unashamedly took a drink of his freshly opened beer. Stan’s blood dropped to a freezing chill.

Eddie, intensely intoxicated, missed what was unsaid yet understood. “No, Billy, I said ‘sucked a dick’ not ‘gotten my dick sucked.’”

“I k-k-know.” Eddie stared quizzically at his reddening face. Everybody else was too dumbstruck to properly react. The up until now straight Bill Denbrough self-consciously lowered his gaze and muttered, “Y-you said you w-wanted s-s-secrets…”

What. The. Fuck.

Stan had finally been coming to terms with never having a romantic future with Bill—Straight Bill Denbrough—and now here’s the man of his dreams basically admitting he’s not entirely straight after all. This should have brought him an overabundance of excitement, instead it toppled the so carefully balanced platter of stress that had accumulated inside him all week long.

“Well,” Richie had finally regained his ability to form words again. “Hell yeah, Big Bill!” He half leapt, half scrambled over the coffee table to give Bill an uncoordinated high five. “That’s my boy!”

Why hadn’t Bill told Stan this? They never kept secrets from each other. Except for Stan’s feeling of course, but that was for good reason.

“So, are you like bi then?” Bev asked, the game mostly forgotten.

Did Bill not trust him? Or worse yet, did Bill know that Stan loved him and just pretended to like girls as some shitty way of letting him down without flat out rejecting him?

“N-no, I d-don’t think so. I mean, y-y-yeah, I’ve dated a few g-g-girls, but not really because I wanted t-to. You know what other p-people think about…well, about p-people like m-m-me.”

Bill’s eyes grew misty, but Stan was in too deep of a spiral to notice. On a normal day, he would’ve kept his cool. On a normal day, he would’ve given his polite smile until he returned to his room where he could violently sob in secret. Instead, tonight Stan had alcohol, and he had emotions, and he had to find out that the love of his life was gay by hearing him admit to fooling around with someone else during a freaking drinking game!

“What the actual fuck, Bill?!” Stan erupted. The others snapped their heads towards him, Bill uttering a startled, “W-w-what?”

“You’re gay?”

“I g-guess…is that a p-p-problem?”

Stan scoffed. “No. No problem at all. Let’s keep playing. I’ve got one. Never have I ever hidden a secret from my best friend.”

“Stan—”

“Drink, Bill.”

The confusion across his freckled face now melted into pained anger. “F-fine. Never have I ever avoided my b-best friend with no w-warning. D-d-drink, Stan.”

Stan was not about to let this argument turn on him, even if he knew he did not hold the moral high ground. “Never have I ever felt like I couldn’t trust my friends,” he roared.

“N-never have I ever been a j-judgmental asshole,” Bill fired back, equally outraged. Ben, ever the peacekeeper, tried to deescalate the situation. “Guys, let’s calm down before—”

It was out of Stan’s mouth before he could catch it. “Never have I ever shoved some guy’s dick down my throat!”

Bill gave not retort this time. He just quietly set his unfinished beer on the table. Immediately losing all the fire in his chest, Stan tried to take back his words. “Bill, I didn’t—”

“Stop.” No anger. No stutter. Bill was done. He rose quickly from his spot on the floor. “I think I s-should b-b-be g-going.”

“Bill…” Eddie trailed after him.

“T-thank you for inv-viting m-m-me Eddie. Every one of them caught sight of the tears that started to leak from his broken eyes.” Then he was out the door without another word.

Stan’s entire world swirled to a screeching, sobering halt. “Way to go, fuck up,” he whispered to himself, not caring anymore if someone heard, as his own sorrow trickled over his cheeks. “You lost him for good, now.” The shame overwhelmed him, and he buried his face in his arms. A gentle hand caressed his hunched back as a surprisingly sober voice washed over him. “Well, you definitely were an ass, just now, but you can’t lose Bill that easily.”

“Yeah, right, Bev,” he snapped through a hitch in his breathing.

“Stan, the only reason you’re not getting a major lecture right now is because we know. You don’t have to say it. We can see how much you love that boy.” Stan skeptically glanced at each of the Losers who now gathered around him, expecting faces full of anger and disgust. The looks of concern there instead fueled the rising guilt caught in his throat. “I’m sorry, guys,” he croaked in defeat.

“We don’t need an apology, Stan,” Eddie waved it off, “Just know that we love the shit out of you, no matter what stupid things to do.”

Richie, trying to be somewhat serious added, “I mean, look at the stupid shit I do every day, and I’m still here.”

“Bill cares about you just as much too. Probably more so,” Mike offered.

Stan let out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, right. He definitely hates me now.”

“Then go apologize,” Bev directed him, getting tired of his wallowing, “Go show him how you feel about him, ok?”

“What if he refuses to speak to me?”

Beverly flashed one of her patented warm-as-sunshine smiles. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

With quivering knees and a massive clump of dread in his stomach, Stan hesitantly knocked on the door to Bill’s dorm, prepared for the worst. The resounding thud bounced away down the lifeless hallway. Stan waited in excruciating silence, almost ready to leave and try again later, until he heard the muffled pattering of uneven footsteps. The door creaked open, revealing a disheveled looking Bill. He had already changed into a worn shirt and the hideous tie-dye slipper socks Richie bought for his secret Santa present this year. The redness around his eyes and the tissue crumpled in his fist, however, suggested that he had been crying instead of sleeping. The shock of such a distraught Bill almost triggered Stan into another guilt driven breakdown, but he blinked back his own tears, determined to say what he had come here to say.

“Stan,” Bill hoarsely spat in an unwelcome grumble.

“Hey, Bill,” Stan replied in his own terrified mumble. The air was empty and tight for a moment as neither boy knew how to continue. “I need to talk to you,” Stan blurted suddenly. Bills brow furrowed into a frustrated divot.

“I t-think you’ve s-said enough,” he dismissed as he started to close the door. Stan jumped forward, lodging himself between it and the frame.

“Please, just wait,” he pleaded, “I want to apologize. You were just trying to be yourself with us—” Bill’s eyes flickered anxiously to either side of them, scanning the hall. “Not here,” he snapped in a harsh whisper, hastily pulling Stan into his room. The door slammed shut, and he locked it behind them. “It’s n-not safe to talk ab-bout that stuff outside.” The light was off, and a blanket cascaded across the floor, confirming that Bill had indeed been having a breakdown of his own. The thought brought a lump to Stan’s throat. “I’m sorry about tonight,” he said, “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

That hurt, but Stan knew he deserved such a blunt reaction. Bill was far from through, though. “Do you kn-know how long I’ve w-wanted to tell you guys? D-do you understand w-what it took for m-me to even tell m-m-myself? I hated m-myself for years. I tried to change. I tried to hook up with g-g-girls, but n-nothing worked.

“B-but things eventually g-got easier. The jokes and the s-slurs I hear from the rest of g-guys in c-class every day didn’t s-scare me as m-much. It was finally n-not the end of the w-world if I was…” His stance never faltered, but now Stan was fully aware of Bill’s reddened eyes and wet cheeks. “I w-wanted to t-tell you Stan, I p-p-promise. I f-finally decided that I had t-to, no m-matter how scared I was. B-but then you stopped t-talking to m-me, and when you s-saw me, you would r-r-run away f-from me. I thought you s-somehow found out on y-you own,” Bill rasped, losing his voice as a new stream of tears poured out. “B-but I never thought that y-you would be that d-d-d-disg-gusted—”

“Bill, you are anything but disgusting.” Stan’s heart couldn’t handle any more of Bill talking so honestly about how badly Stan had hurt him.

“I s-saw your f-f-face. Why else w-would you s-say that?”

“Because I was jealous!” Stan exploded. “All I want is for you to ask me out, or hold my hand, or hell, even just look at as something more than just your friend. God knows, I spend every night praying that you’ll notice me. But finally finding out that you’re gay by hearing about you having sex with somebody else? I’m not strong enough for that. I’m sorry.”

An eternity passed as they stood in the dark, both crying and staring at the floor. Stan wanted to leave, to avoid embarrassing them any further, but he also couldn’t bear to leave Bill alone in such an upset state once more.

“I wish it had been you.”

Stan thought he misheard. He looked up, but the boy in front of him still avoided eye contact. “It w-wasn’t a fun experience. I w-was so lonely, I f-found the first guy who was even remotely interested. When he w-was done, he just cleaned up and l-l-left.” He lifted his head, and whimpered as his voice finally broke, “I w-w-wish I could’ve been with someone I l-love. I w-wish it was you.”

Cautiously, Stan took Bill’s hand in his. The sobbing boy reciprocated the touch, clenching his fingers tightly in Stan’s firm grasp.

“I’m sorry, Bill. For what I said tonight, for avoiding you, and for not seeing how much pain you’ve been living with.” He felt the other’s pulse calming in the comforting connection, almost becoming one with his own.

“Stan,” Bill whispered, “d-does it ever g-get easier?” Stan, never releasing his grip, pulled them together, holding his best friend impossibly close. “Yeah, babe,” he cooed breathlessly into Bill’s neck. “It will.”

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letswritefanfiction · 5 years

Text

“There’s a reason I called you all here today.”

The room was dark and Giovanni sat in shadow. He could see the faces of the other four at the table, and they could see him, but he was certain they couldn’t make out his face. Unlike the rest of these idiots, he had rarely made the mistake of being seen in public; his identity wasn’t yet compromised, and it wasn’t about to ruin that today.

“It had better be a good one, for me to be seen with this idiot,” Archie growled, turning his head sharply to look at Maxie. “You know that Water Pokémon are the most plentiful variety of Pokémon, right?”

Maxie didn’t deign to look at Archie. “Where would you be sitting right now if the world were covered with water?”

“On my boat!”

“That’s enough,” Giovanni said firmly. He’d called this specific group of people together because of a single common bond, but perhaps that had been a miscalculation. If it was going to be like this—this being what he imagined wrangling preschoolers to be—then maybe he should have gone with a more loyal group. Less powerful and driven, but easy to control. It would have been safer.

“What’s the reason, Rocket?” Ghetsis asked.

He also hadn’t given any of them his name. They all knew of Team Rocket at this point, thanks to Jessie and James—the real impetus for this meeting—and just being the leader of the organization provided enough clout to this crew without having to give up his anonymity.

“We all have one thing in common,” Giovanni stated as the beginning of his planned speech. “Our plans have been foiled by this young man.”

He presented a photo of a one Ash Ketchum, the same ID photo that had been used in his League competition in Kalos. His image was enough to draw a reaction out of all of the men at the table.

“That damned kid!”

“Ah, of course.”

“I don’t know how he did it.”

The one not to respond was Cyrus, who hadn’t uttered a word since he arrived. However, Giovanni had a careful eye on all the men, and he noticed tension in Cyrus’ shoulders as he heaved a silent breath.

“My team has been trying to catch a single Pokémon of his for years,” Giovanni said, unable completely to tamper his annoyance. It was all he could do not to seethe. “And they have never succeeded.”

Archie smacked the table. “That Pikachu!”

Giovanni didn’t bother responding. “While the boy and his Pikachu are powerful in their own right, there’s one thing that lifts him up.”

“His companions.”

The answer came from Cyrus. Giovanni was a little irritated at his speech having been interrupted, but he continued on as if unfazed. “Yes. Without his friends—his backup—he would not be able to pull of the feats he did against any of our teams. And with this boy’s unique proficiency at showing up right where our plans are meant to take place, taking his strength out of the equation should leave a clear road ahead for all of us to follow through with our plans.”

“Even if our plans are counter to each other?” Maxie asked.

Giovanni waved him away. “That will be something for you both to work out. I only intend to provide the path. You can do with it what you will.”

“So what’s the plan?” Ghetsis asked.

Giovanni leaned forward, his arms going into the light as he placed his elbows on the table and steepled his hands.

“Well…”

* * *

It was when Ash arrived in the Melemele Island Pokémon Center that he heard.

He had already been on the island for a couple of days before hitting the Pokémon Center. He and his mom were just visiting Alola, thanks to Mimey winning a contest, but today was the day that he’d finally had a friendly Pokémon Battle. Pikachu hadn’t been injured, but it couldn’t hurt to stop in and give him a check-up anyway.

“Are you Ash Ketchum?”

Ash hadn’t even managed to hand Pikachu over to Nurse Joy before she was asking him, and he could only look on quizzically as he answered, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“You received a phone call from a Brock Slate yesterday morning. He said you should call him back as soon as you can.”

“Are you sure he didn’t want you to call him back?”

As much as Ash enjoyed receiving phone calls from Brock, this wouldn’t be the first time that the whole game of telephone tag devolved into more sad attempts from his friend to hit on one of the many Nurse Joys they communicated through.

This Nurse Joy, however, was confused. “Um, no? He said it was urgent, though, so I suggest you call him back promptly. Why don’t I take your Pokémon and you can make the call while we’re in the back?”

“Sounds good.”

Pikachu went willingly from Ash’s shoulder into Nurse Joy’s arms and, without any other Pokémon on him to be healed, Ash went to the video phones. He was no whiz with numbers, but, by now, Brock’s uni number was a familiar one. He dialed the digits and didn’t have to wait long before Brock picked up. His screen was already on and Ash could see his friend’s face turn quickly from being blank to one of urgency.

“Ash? Thank goodness you got my message.”

“Well, thanks for taking the time away from ogling Nurse Joy to leave it.”

“Ash. This is serious.”

Ash had never heard is friend use that tone of voice before. Of course they’d been in dire situations in the past, but something about the gravity in his voice, the clenching of his jaw, and the wildness of his eyes scared Ash straight. He was listening.

“What is it?”

“Misty’s missing.”

* * *

Ash ran out of the Pokémon Center with no more sense of a plan than he had to get moving.

Misty was missing. Her sisters had realized it sometime the day before at which point Misty couldn’t have been gone for more than a few hours. But she was definitely gone and there were no leads on where she might be or who might have taken her.

It was assumed that she’d been kidnapped. The Cerulean Gym had never invested in security cameras—though they certainly would be now, even though it was all but closing the barn door after the Taurus had all left—so someone easily could have slipped in, incapacitated her somehow, and made their way out with her, providing no one had been around. Which, it appeared, no one had been.

He hadn’t made it ten feet out the front door before his mom came out of nowhere, grabbing the back of his collar, and stopping him in his tracks.

Ash choked a little—his collar had dug in just under his Adam’s apple—and wheezed as his mom stepped in front of him with a stern look.

“Just where do you think you’re going, mister?”

“Misty’s been kidnapped!” he blurted out. “I have to save her!”

“Is that true?” Delia asked, her reaction unchanging despite the, in Ash’s opinion, world-changing information. “Then tell me: where’s Pikachu?”

Ash’s hand flew to his shoulder where, sure enough, Pikachu was not. He suddenly realized that, in his haste, he’d left Pikachu with Nurse Joy. Immediately, Ash turned around to run back into the Pokémon Center when, again, his mom pinched his collar.

Stopped once again, Ash batted his mom’s hand away and coughed a little. “Mom! What are you doing?”

“What are you doing, young man?” Delia asked. “How do you think you can help Misty right now?”

Truth be told, he hadn’t thought that far. Brock hadn’t provided him with enough information to go off of, and it hadn’t seemed as though the other boy had concocted any plan himself as of yet. But that didn’t stop Ash from thinking on the fly. “I just need to get to Kanto. She’s probably in Kanto, right? Then I can start looking for her and battle whoever did this!”

“That is exactly what you won’t be doing, mister. You have no idea where she is and, might I remind you, you have no way of getting back to Kanto right now. And, might I remind you, you have school. In about ten minutes. Principal Oak is expecting you.”

“School can wait!” Ash exclaimed. “My best friend has been kidnapped!”

“And there’s nothing you can do.” Finally, his mom’s expression melted from one of austerity to tenderness. “I really am sorry about Misty, and I hope to heaven she’s okay. But, Ashy, you have to understand that you being in Kanto or not isn’t going to do anything for her. I know you’re used to playing a heroic role in these things but, for once, can you just do a favor to your mom and go to school like a normal boy and saving the heroism for the professionals?”

No, Ash wanted to say. No, no, no, no. Misty needed his help. She rarely had before, and he wanted to be there in her time of need. But, unfortunately, he was once again in a totally different region from her, unable to give her anything other than his thoughts and prayers.

He wasn’t going to say yes. He couldn’t find it in him to do that, even for his mom. But he did look her in the eye and say the simplest truth he could: “I’m going to get Pikachu.”

* * *

In the five years Ash had gone to school, he’d never particularly liked it. He didn’t totally remember the details of it at this point, since it had been years since he’d spent regular time in a classroom, but he had vague memories of being really bored and getting in trouble for being distracted. He wouldn’t do well and then his mom would have to meet with his teacher and then she’d be sad. He hadn’t liked any of that. The only reasons he’d agreed to go to this school in Alola was because, 1.) Professor Oak had told him that Principal Oak would love to have him, and Ash wouldn’t want to refuse Professor Oak and 2.) it was called The Pokémon School. At the time, that had been enough for him.

Now, though, he wasn’t sure he would have been willing to sit at a desk even if the school had been called ‘The Pokémon School that Guarantees all who Enter Shall be Pokémon Masters and We’re just Going to Talk About Pokémon Except for When We’re Training with Them.’ Though that did sound really cool.

His mother had walked him to the classroom, probably knowing that he would have been late otherwise. Or made a run for it. Truly, he hadn’t ruled that latter option out yet. But, so far, he was the second person there, even though class was set to start in a couple minutes. The only other person was a girl wearing all white and she’d been furiously writing in a notebook since he’d arrived.

But as his leg bounced up and down like a jackhammer and Pikachu looked up at him from the desk with a worried expression, Ash knew he was bound to burst before class started. So, with a somewhat panicked tone, he shouted, “Hey! What’s your name?”

The girl turned around, startled. Ash wasn’t even sure she’d noticed that he was there until that moment. He put on a forced smile, hoping that he wasn’t scaring the girl. She did look a little uneasy.

“Oh—I’m Lillie.”

“I’m Ash! Nice to meet’cha!”

Lillie smiled—a timid one, but a smile nevertheless—and said, “Hi, Ash. Are you new?”

“Nah, I’m just here on vacation. Just coming to class today because I’m friends with Professor Oak and then I have to head back to Kanto.”

“That’s very interesting,” Lillie said. “It’s a shame you can’t stay longer.”

“Well, I was gonna,” Ash said. “But my friend, Misty has been kidnapped and I need to get home as soon as possible to rescue her.”

“Oh, dear!” Lillie’s hand flew up to her mouth and her eyes went incredibly wide. Her eyes were green, like Misty’s, but the tone was different. Misty’s had flecks of blue, while this girl’s were more golden. Totally different, really. “Did you say kidnapped?”

“That’s right.” Ash’s smile grew more forced and his leg was bouncing so much it was thumping his desk. Really, it was causing a great racket, and Pikachu was bouncing around on it a little. “And no one has any idea where she is.”

“That’s terrible!”

Just then, the rest of the class came trickling in. Two more girls and two boys, all of whom were chatting cheerfully, seemingly happy to be at school. Ash couldn’t relate.

Eyes immediately turned to him, as he stood out as an odd fixture in their small class. The girl with the long green hair smiled—a real one, not like his or Lillie’s—and said, “Alola! What’s your name?”

“His name is Ash and his friend has been kidnapped!”

Lillie blurted the words out and then covered her mouth with both hands, looking wildly between Ash and the green-haired girl.

“Is that true?” A boy with dark skin and wasn’t wearing a shirt took a step toward Ash, the question seemingly directed at him instead of Lillie.

Ash nodded, his eyes all crazy again as his mouth seemed stuck in a phony-bologna smile. “Yup. Found out today.”

“That’s just terrible,” the blue-haired girl said quietly. “You must feel awful.”

“Yeah, my mom says there’s nothing I can do about it.” He still didn’t believe that for a second, though. There was always an action to take. At the very least, he could go to Kanto. That would be a start.

“Of course you can’t,” the dark-skinned boy. “That should be left to the professionals.”

Ash grunted and turned away. “You sound just like my mom.”

The short boy looked at the other boy with wide eyes. “You sound just like mine too!”

“Well, I think Ash is right!” the green-haired girl said, punching a fist into her other hand. “His friend needs help—of course he should at least try!”

Just then, the professor came in. He was wearing a lab coat with no shirt underneath and a baseball cap. He wasn’t like any teacher Ash had ever seen before.

“Ah, I see everyone’s met our visitor for the day. Class, meet Ash Ketchum. Ash, I’m Professor Kukui. Everyone else, please introduce yourselves.”

Mallow, Lana, Kiawe, and Sophocles. And, of course, Lillie. Now Ash had a name for every face.

“Professor?” Sophocles asked, raising his hand before the Professor could begin his lesson. “Ash’s friend was kidnapped!”

Professor Kukui’s eyes widened. “Really, now? That’s terrible.”

“It’s the truth!” Mallow said, standing up. “And we want to help!”

The professor frowned. “I wish we could. But I think the best thing we can do for Ash is to take his mind off of it and try and distract him. So let’s get on with the lesson.”

Mallow sat down, looking defeated. She turned back in her chair to look at Ash with sad eyes. She shrugged and gave him an expression that said, I tried.

* * *

It was the next day, and he was still in Alola, when Ash learned of another call he’d received. He’d been hoping for one—that’s why he’d gone to the Pokémon Center in the first place; he’d wanted to hear if there had been any updates. However, this time the message was from Daisy, not Brock, and it turned out it was for the worst reason.

“Brock’s gone too?” Ash exclaimed, disbelief flooding him as Daisy looked at him tearfully.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “The police told us this morning.”

“Why did they tell you?”

“They thought it could be related. Misty’s a Gym Leader and Brock used to be one.”

Ash shook his head. “No, then they would have taken Forrest, not Brock. That can’t be it.”

Daisy shrugged. “Well, we still don’t have anything else to go on.”

Ash narrowed his eyes, thinking as hard as he could. “Yeah, but we will.”

* * *

In Ash’s experience, all that was needed for ideas to come about was for more than one head to put themselves together. Right now he was one head. But very shortly, he would have more.

Ash ran the way to the Pokémon school. Against all odds, he was there for a second day. Well, maybe not all odds. It was what his mom had intended after all. But it sure hadn’t been his plan. Unlike the day before, however, he arrived in the classroom—early, mind you—and everyone else was already there.

“Ash!” Mallow exclaimed. “We were wondering if you’d be here!”

“We thought you’d be in Kanto by now,” Sophocles added.

Ash shook his head, panting as he tried to catch his breath. “My mom still won’t let me go. We’d have to buy new plane tickets and I don’t really have any other way of getting there.”

“Well, we’re glad you’re back,” Lana said quietly.

“Thanks, I’m glad to see all of you too, because our problems just got a lot bigger.”

“Our problems?” Kiawe asked. But Ash just barreled on.

“Another one of my friends has been kidnapped. He used to be the Gym Leader of the Pewter City Gym in Kanto.”

There were gasps around the room. The only one who stayed silent was Kiawe, though his eyes did widen.

“Ash, I’m so sorry!” Mallow cried.

“I wanted to ask your guys’ advice,” Ash said whilst throwing Mallow a grateful look. “These have to be related, right? One right after the other like that? So that has to be a clue. But I don’t know what it might mean.”

“Okay, let’s get the facts,” Lillie said. “They’re both in Kanto. Misty—Misty, right?—Misty is a Gym Leader, Brock used to be one. Umm…”

“They’re both good friends of yours, Ash?” Mallow asked.

“The best!”

“Like, actual best friends?”

Ash didn’t know what Mallow was getting at. He’d definitely used the term best friend before, but he’d never thought about his friends on a sliding scale before. Who might be ranked below or above another one. He just had a lot of friends!

“They both traveled with me for years. Sometimes all three of us, sometimes one of them and other people. But all three of us are, like, really, really, super good friends.”

“Do you have any enemies?”

That had Ash even more confused. He immediately started to say no. After all, most people he met he thought of as friends. But then he remembered all the bad things that had happened over the years. How many bad guys he’d met. Maybe Mallow was onto something.

“I guess I do.”

“Really?” Mallow actually looked surprised to hear the answer. “Powerful ones?”

Ash nodded. “Yeah, actually.”

“Oh my gosh!” she gasped. “Ash! That’s the clue! The clue is you!”

“Then I know what we need to do!” Sophocles said. “We need to give tracking devices to all your close friends, then we’ll see who’s taken next and where they go!”

“Sophocles, that’s ridiculous,” Kiawe said.

Ash, on the other hand, was intrigued. “How would we do that?”

“Well, I just need to whip up some small tracking devices—very common technology nowadays. And then we just need to ship them to your friends. How many do you think we’ll need?”

“Er…”

Ash had a lot of friends. Like, a lot. But he didn’t think he could ask Sophocles for the dozens and dozens of trackers that he would need for all of his friends. He had to narrow it down.

Lana suggested he think about his best friends. And while he still didn’t know how to separate those categories, he did know that Misty and Brock were two of his traveling companions. Two people that he’d been seen together with often. An innumerable amount of times. That was probably the place to start.

So that meant May, Max, Dawn, Iris, Cilan, Serena, Clemont, Bonnie…yeah, better stop there.

“Eight,” he answered definitively—before he could rethink it and get all tangled up. “But they live all over the world.”

“Hmm.” Sophocles put a finger to his chin. “Kiawe, think your Charizard could handle that?”

“What‽” Kiawe asked, nearly shrieking. “Of course not! In one day? No, Sophocles, it’s not possible.”

Sophocles threw his hands up. “What? I was just wondering!”

Then Lillie piped up. “I might be able to help.”

Everyone turned to look at her. Ash had noticed it the day before, but she was the only one of them who didn’t have a Pokémon out. For once, he wasn’t the strange one by allowing Pikachu out of his PokéBall all the time—lots of people in Alola seemed to do it. But not Lillie. He wasn’t even sure that she had any Pokémon, so he wondered what she intended to offer. And he wasn’t alone in that thought.

“What are you talking about, Lillie?” Mallow asked.

Cryptically, Lillie answered, “You don’t know my mother.”

* * *

The hard part, it turned out, was getting in touch with all of his friends. Fortunately, unlike him, most of his friends had PokéNavs and the like so they could receive calls remotely. Especially after he called them three and four times. They were bound to pick up then.

He did get a hold of each of them eventually, but it did take some time. And then there was the matter of specifically locating them for Lusamine—that was Lillie’s mother—to ship each of these trackers that Sophocles was putting together for each of them. Some were easy, like Cilan, who was at his Gym. Others were harder, like Dawn who was traveling through the middle of even she didn’t know where in Kalos.

But, luckily, all of his friends believed him when he told them that they might be in danger. Or if they didn’t directly believe him, they were willing to go along with it.

Then he just had to wait as slowly, one by one, they all appeared as little dots on Sophocles’ tracking device. After that, it was just a matter of waiting.

It was the middle of the night when Ash received a phone call—Sophocles had set him up with a longish-distance walkie-talkie of sorts—saying that one of the dots was on the move. Of course, that shouldn’t have been happening; all of his friends had already settled down to sleep for the night. So that meant that someone was being taken. And that their hypothesis was right.

“Who is it?” Ash asked groggily, still half-asleep.

“Clemont.”

* * *

When Ash made it to the Pokémon School—in the middle of the night with nothing more than a note for his mother—he was surprised to find everyone already there waiting for him. Everyone meaning Sophocles, Lillie, Mallow, Lana, and even Kiawe, though the latter of those looked very tired and unhappy. Mallow must have noticed Ash’s lingering gaze on Kiawe and said, “He flew here from Akala Island!”

Now, Ash had no idea where Akala Island was, but he did know that this was Melemele Island. An entirely different island must have meant that it was pretty far away. He wouldn’t have thought that Kiawe would have made a trip like that just for this. Just for him.

“Thanks, Kiawe,” Ash said.

Kiawe, for his part, shrugged. “Whoever’s doing this can’t get away with it. If I can help bring them down, then why wouldn’t I?”

“So what do we do now?” Lana asked, looking to Ash. Lillie, however, is the one who spoke up.

“Um, my mom actually thought of something.”

Hesitantly, Lillie pressed a button on the wall—one that Ash hadn’t noticed before—and a part of the wall opened like an elevator door. Lillie stepped inside with a shy smile and gestured everyone follow.

“Wow, how did your mom do this, Lillie?”

“She has a lot of resources.”

The next thing they knew, the group of humans—and their Pokémon—were being shot down a chute and into a chamber that held a Flygon, Altaria, Charizard, Garchomp, Metang, and Dragonair, all saddled up and ready to go.

“Woah, are these for us to ride?” Ash asked, his eyes wide and sparkling.

“Yes…Alolan ride Pokémon…”

Lillie’s voice was suddenly halting, nervous. She looked ahead of her—at the Altaria—and her face seemed even paler than usual.

“Lillie’s afraid of touching Pokémon,” Mallow explained, a hand on her friend’s shoulder. Lillie, however, shook it off.

“No, I can do it!” Lillie shouted, clenching her hands in front of her. “I just need to…close my eyes.”

She did exactly that and held a hand out. “Mallow, lead me there, please.”

An eyebrow arched, Mallow took hold of Lillie’s hand and began to lead her towards Altaria. Lillie was holding her breath, and her brows were furrowed to the point that they were nearly touching. But, nevertheless, she climbed atop Altaria, and let out a breath.

“It’s just a chair, it’s just a chair,” Lillie murmured to herself as she took hold of the handlebars. She wasn’t actually touching Altaria, so hopefully she would be fine.

Barely opening one eye, she looked back at the rest of the group, who were all still standing, watching her.

“Well? What are you waiting for‽”

* * *

Clemont’s dot had stopped moving on Sophocles’ map by the time they’d taken off, so everyone felt comfortable assuming that that’s where he was being held captive. Surprisingly, it wasn’t in Kalos, but off the coast of Kanto, which was fantastic, because that meant that Ash and his new friends didn’t even have to spend an hour in the air before touching down near where Clemont was meant to be.

“The dot is gone!” Sophocles exclaimed once they’d landed. “I don’t understand it!”

“But is this the spot, Sophocles?” Mallow asked.

Sophocles nodded his head vigorously. “This is the last place the dot was, and it moved quickly to get here. He must have been on a plane or something. But now it’s disappeared!”

“It’s still all we have to go on,”

“This is the spot,” Sophocles said once they all had landed. He should be somewhere around here.

Kanto’s east coast had many tiny islands, most of which held nothing more than a lot of sand. And the area where the group now stood with all their Pokémon was no different. The ocean was pockmarked with spots of sand, but there were no buildings around. Nowhere that a person might be hidden. They’d hit a dead end.

But not according to Lana.

“I know what we should do! Popplio, make a balloon!”

Ash watched as out of Popplio’s nose came a bubble, small at first, then growing, growing, growing until it was about a foot wide. Then, Lana stuck her head in it, without popping it, and dove into the water. She didn’t come back up, but Popplio started right away making another balloon.

“Oh! We’re supposed to dive underwater and see if they’re being held there!” Ash exclaimed. “Popplio, give me a balloon!”

Ash took the next one and popped it on his head—with Popplio making another small one for Pikachu—before following Lana under the water. With the balloon on his head, he could breathe and keep his eyes open. The balloon made it look like he was seeing the world from inside a fishbowl, but at least his eyes didn’t sting.

Then, all of a sudden, Lana looked back at Ash and pointed eagerly forward, suddenly swimming much quicker while Ash struggled to keep up. He realized that she was swimming into an underwater cove and followed her into it. It was totally dark. The cove must have been covered at the top, because very quickly there was no light to speak of at all. Then, all of a sudden, his bubble burst, and his head was above water.

Despite having been able to breathe, Ash gasped at the sudden fresh flow of oxygen, and he heard Lana breathing heavily next to him. Pikachu had climbed to the top of his head and was shaking the water out of his fur.

“Pikachu, can you make a little electricity so we can see?” he whispered. “But be careful of all the water.”

Pikachu obliged, only sparking a little at his cheeks, but suddenly the whole chamber lit up with flickering light, like Pikachu was holding a candle in his hands. And in front of him, he saw Misty, Brock, and Clemont, partially submerged, gagged, and seemingly chained to the wall.

All of them let out muffled shouts when they saw Ash in front of them. Ash couldn’t swim quick enough to get to his friends and rip their gags off. Lana was right behind him to do the same.

“Ash!” Misty exclaimed after Ash took her gag off. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Of course I am,” Ash said. “I wanted to save you right away, but I needed help first.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m just glad you came.”

“Clemont, Brock!” Ash exclaimed, clapping each of his other friends on the shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re all in the same spot!”

“Us too, Ash,” Brock said, “Thanks for the rescue.”

And as he looked around, he realized that—much like Mallow had surmised—there were many other spots along the wall where it looked like more people were meant to be held. More chains in place, just ready to lock another of his friends up.

“What did they do to you?” Ash asked Misty.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Misty answered with a shake of her head. “There’s a tube in the rock to let oxygen in from outside, and they do feed us and stuff. I think they’ve been keeping us here while they figure out what to do with us or something.”

“Have you seen your captors?”

That question came from Lana, and Clemont is the one who answered.

“No, it’s been pitch black. They must have night vision goggles or something in order to see us.”

Ash reached behind Misty to feel the metal chains that were keeping her hands in place. They were just like any other metal chains he’d ever seen. And there wasn’t much that either he or Pikachu could do about it.

“Ash,” Lana said. “If we wanna get them out, we’re gonna have to go back above ground.”

Ash looked back at Misty, has hand falling from her chains to her arm. He didn’t want to leave his friends. Not just after he’d found them, and not in this condition. But the quicker he got them out of there the better. He squeezed Misty’s arm.

“We’ll get you out of here in two shakes.”

* * *

It was quite the group effort to get Misty, Brock, and Clemont out of the cave. As Ash and Lana surfaced—as quickly as possible, as they no longer had Popplio’s bubbles on their side to help with breathing—Lana was the one who kept track of which ‘island’ the group was being kept under. And on which side of the rock they were all being held. Then all it took was the sacrifice of Kiawe touching one of his Turtonator’s spikes. Little did Ash know that that would trigger a huge explosion, creating a crater in the rock. Then Misty, Brock, and Clemont were accessible from the outside.

Ash then talked everyone through his tried and true method of breaking through metal. Turtonator was used to heat up the chains, Popplio cooled them down with some water, then Pikachu’s Iron Tail was all it took to free his three friends.

They would have been home free. If a helicopter had not appeared at just that moment.

Everyone stood back, holding their hands in front of their faces as the helicopter grew airbags on its landing skis and landed on the water. Then, out stepped a shouting man.

“How‽ How did you do it yet again?”

“Giovanni!” Ash, Misty, and Brock all shouted.

“Yes, apparently anonymity is no longer on my side,” Giovanni muttered to himself. Then he continued, “How have you thwarted my plans yet again? I had you right where I wanted you!”

“Plans?” Ash asked with a furrowed brow. “Why would you be kidnapping my friends? I thought you only stole Pokémon. And my friends aren’t Pokémon.”

“I wasn’t stealing your friends,” Giovanni snapped, his voice sharp. “I was separating them from you so that you were weak. But it seems you’ve made a whole host of new ones instead.”

Ash looked behind him at Lana, Mallow, Kiawe, Sophocles, and Lillie. They were all his friends now. Of course they were.

“You’re right,” Ash said simply. “I wouldn’t have been able to do this without them. Mallow is the one who figured out what was going on, Lillie and Sophocles gave us the materials to track my friends and bring us here, and Lana and Kiawe helped he save them. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of that on my own.”

“But you made them so quickly! You’ve been in Alola for three days!”

Ash was a little concerned how Giovanni knew that about him. But before he could voice that, Misty spoke up for him, grabbing his hand.

“It’s because Ash is the most incredible, unique person that any of us know. If his new friends haven’t realized that yet, then they soon will, because everyone who meets Ash Ketchum walks away knowing that, right?”

Clemont was quick to answer. “Ash has inspired me in a way that no one else ever has. Traveling with him is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And it doesn’t matter how many more times I’m kidnapped for me to keep thinking that! …But please don’t.”

Misty nodded. “Exactly right. Me and him have never met, but we both think exactly the same about Ash. So you can isolate him and challenge him and try to stop him as many times as you want, but in the end, he will always rally for his friends, and they’ll always come for him. You lose, Giovanni, so call it quits.”

Giovanni stared between her and Ash for a few long seconds. Then he turned around dramatically and headed back into his helicopter before shouting, “This is not the end of Team Rainbow Rocket!”

After the helicopter flew into the distance and its sound dissipated, Ash doubled over in laughter. “Team Rainbow Rocket? What happened to plain old Team Rocket?”

“Are they trying to queerbait us?” Mallow asked, befuddled.

Misty shook her head, then turned back to Ash. “Really, Ash. Thanks for saving us.”

“Thanks for standing up for me, Mist. I didn’t know you had all those nice things to say about me.”

Misty blushed. “Yeah, well…” She trailed off, turning away towards land. “How are we going to get home?”

“You could take our ride Pokémon?” Lillie offered hesitantly. “Some of us can ride two to a Pokémon.”

“That’ll work for these two,” Clemont said, thumbing over at Brock and Misty, “But I think I’m going to need a plane.”

Lillie nodded. “We can do that too.”

* * *

Ash hadn’t put together that Lillie was rich until the group made their first stop at the nearest airport and she put down a card to pay for Clemont’s plane. Of course, Clemont insisted he pay, but there was one thing Lillie had that Clemont just didn’t and that was speed. She paid for the last minute flight in full before Clemont even realized what had happened.

Saying goodbye to a good friend, even when you hadn’t been expecting to see them, was quite hard. Ash was very practiced at goodbyes, but most of the time it didn’t make them easier. Everyone stood back while he and Clemont exchanged their farewells and Ash couldn’t help but apologize a couple more times for Clemont’s brief kidnapping. Then it was off to Cerulean City.

This time Brock was by his side as Ash said goodbye.

“I’m really sorry, Misty,” Ash said for the umpteenth time as he stood in front of the door to the Cerulean Gym.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “Even if this kind of thing happened every day, I would take it if it were the trade off for being your friend.”

“You’re just saying that,” Ash said, his eyes looking down towards his shoes.

“Nah.” That was Brock clapping him on the back. “We all would. It’s quite the deal for being friends with Ash Ketchum.”

Ash swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. “Thanks, guys.”

“Well,” Misty said after a moment, “you’d better be getting Brock off to Pewter City.”

Ash hesitated. It was so hard to say goodbye. “Guess so.”

Another beat. “Okay, then,” Misty said.

“It’ll be dark by the time we get back to Alola at this rate,” Kiawe said, cutting in. “And no one’s parents knows where we are except Lillie’s.”

Lillie tentatively raised a finger. “Kind of.”

“Right,” Misty agreed, her face suddenly flushed. Then, she quickly leaned in and gave Ash a peck on the cheek and ran to her front door with a wave. “I can’t thank you all enough! Bye-bye now!”

And then she was gone.

“Did that…” Brock started, staring at Ash, “did that just happen?”

“Aw, how cute!” Mallow exclaimed.

“She likes you!” Lana agreed.

“What‽” Ash shouted.

“You know, I’ve always suspected…” Brock mused, his thumb and forefinger to his chin.

“Even that blond guy seemed to like you a little bit,” Kiawe added.

“What‽” Ash was staring back and forth between all of them, unable to process what everyone seemed to be saying. “What? She was just…they’re grateful that…to all of us!”

“I think he just needs some time to accept it,” Lana said.

“That might be it,” Brock agreed.

“No, I don’t!”

“Fine, Ash,” Brock said, swinging an arm over his shoulders. “We agree with you. But the seed is planted. This conversation is not over.”

“But—”

“Oh, it’s over for the next long while,” Brock continued. “But it’ll come back. Just wait.”

Ash didn’t have anything more to say. Whatever arguments were still sitting on the tip of his tongue were falling away. He was outnumbered here. And while Ash wasn’t one to give up a challenge, this wasn’t one he was interested in playing with anymore. Brock was shelving it. That was enough. For now.

“So, this is what it’s like to be Ash’s friend…” Sophocles mused. “Interesting. I’m excited for it!”

“No, it’s—”

“Yes, it is,” Brock cut Ash off. “And like Misty said, none of us would have it any other way. You all are in for one heck of a ride.”

“Oh, we’re friends now?” Kiawe asked, his voice dry.

“Of course we are!” Mallow exclaimed. “You can’t go through something like this and not be friends!”

Mallow was right. There was something about surviving something together. Being saved by someone, or being the person doing the saving. It linked you in a way that other people didn’t understand. Ash and his friends knew that better than anyone.

“Ash is friends with everyone,” Brock stated, cutting through the static. “Legitimately everyone.”

He’d been saved so many times. And he’d done the saving just as many. All of his friends were special. And he had a lot of friends. So many friends. Just friends.

Right?

The seed was planted.

Pikachu tapped Ash from his place on Ash’s shoulder, bringing him back to the world. Ash blinked a few times and shook it off. He didn’t even know what he was thinking about. So, with a bright grin on his face, happy to have five brand new friends—and to have saved the day yet again—he said, “Off to Pewter and then back to Alola before my mom kills me!”

* * *

Meanwhile…

Giovanni was back in the room where he’d called the first meeting, in front of the failures he’d called partners, feeling humiliated yet again at the hands of a child.

“Foiled again!” he growled. “We didn’t account for the fact that he would make a whole posse of new friends in a matter of days.”

“If I may,” Cyrus spoke up, raising one finger and surprising everyone by speaking first. “Perhaps we should focus on the redheaded girl. She and the boy seem to have a particularly strong connection.”

“How do you know that?” Archie blurted out, for he sure hadn’t seen anything of the sort.

“I spied on their glorious return mission whilst our fearless leader was headed home on a private helicopter with his tail between his legs.”

It was all Giovanni could do not to spit with rage. Nevertheless, he had to admit, “Yes, there might be something there. Perhaps we were too ambitious, thinking we could cut out all of his closest, powerful friends…but if we focus our efforts on one…”

“Why her and not the spiky-haired boy that the majority of us saw travel with the boy for years?” Maxie asked.

“Because, he’s not the boy’s weak point,” Giovanni mused. “There’s always a weak point.”

“But no kidnapping this time,” Ghetsis raised. After all, it hadn’t gone well this time around.

“No kidnapping,” Giovanni declared. “At least not as the prime maneuver. But we’ll think of something. She’s important to the boy and that’s our way in.”

He steepled his fingers together, his face just barely catching the light.

“Team Rainbow Rocket is back in business.”

#pokemon #pokeshipping #aaml #fanfiction #oneshot #alphabet challenge #team rocket #team rainbow rocket #ash ketchum #misty #clemont #lana #mallow #kiawe #lillie #sophocles #lusamine #giovanni #long post

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thecastingcircle · 6 years

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Costume designer Jenny Beavan has won Oscars for dressing the English past and the apocalyptic future. Now she’s marrying the two, melding historical verisimilitude with fantasy in Disney’s “The Nutcracker and the Four Realms.”

“We set it in 1875 for the basic story,” says Beavan, of keeping the fantasy elements rooted in reality. “You’ve got to have an anchor. When you do films where they say, ‘I don’t care about the period’ and they’re all over the place, I think, even when people don’t know the period, they know it’s kind of wrong.”

Beavan took home Oscars for films about as sartorially varied as they come: the circa-1908 period piece “A Room with a View” and the circa-who’s-keeping-track-after-the-end-of-the-world “Mad Max: Fury Road.” Also a Tony nominee, Beavan has racked up eight other Oscar nominations.

The new “Nutcracker,” opening Nov. 2, is a live-action fairy tale, with nods to the ballet as well. In it, Young Clara (Mackenzie Foy), still mourning her late inventor-mother during the first Christmas without her, comes to a party at her godfather, Drosselmeyer’s (Morgan Freeman). She discovers the magical wonderlands her mother created and learns they’re in danger. Victorian England provides the grounding from which the magical worlds sprout.

“We decided to think about what the mother had in her closet or her cupboards,” says Beavan. “When I have nightmares or dreams, they’re often anchored in something I’ve seen that day or something I have around. So we went to the sort of Staffordshire [porcelain] figures people would have; they’re 18th century, and they were perfect for the Realm of Flowers. It translated brilliantly for all the realms. We covered them with ice and snow and icicles and frost and glitter, covered them in candy and sugar and sweet motifs. So they’re based on memory.”

“Nutcracker” was a titanic undertaking, she says, estimating that after a 12-week prep period, she had more than 100 people working, cutting and embellishing, fitting and dressing. Beavan estimates that the movie’s principals required 150 costumes (counting “repeats” — copies for stunts and such), plus hundreds more for the magical realms and about 700 rented costumes for big crowd scenes.

“It was massive,” she says of the approximately 1,500 total outfits. “Massive fun as well, don’t get me wrong.”

Some designs let her whimsy fly, such as the getup actor Eugenio Derbez dons that gives new meaning to the words “floral pattern” and the gorgeous embroidery on Freeman’s gown (“He was just so easy,” Beavan says of the veteran actor. “He loved the shoes. He has very wide feet.”).

But some of the less fantastical creations are among her favorites, such as Clara’s “mauve organza dress” as she emerges, vulnerable, from a tree into a frozen world, and her “Little Soldier” costume, based on what women of the period wore when serving in the military.

“They were out with the troops in various parts of the world, normally not actually fighting, but being backup services, nursing, what have you,” Beavan said.

The costuming team’s work is remarkably intricate: the detail, the fineness of the fabrics’ textures, the use of color. Then, for the film’s lone ballet sequence, prima ballerina Misty Copeland’s garb is anything but complex.

Beavan says, “With ballet, what you’re trying to do is show the body and the line. She’s a dancer like you get in a music box, the ballerina going around. To me it was the simpler, the better. We’re so elaborate everywhere [else]. What we wanted to see from Misty and Sergei Polunin, you just want to see good ballet. And she’s the most amazing dancer.”

#the nutcracker and the four realms #ballet

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12-3amproductions · 6 years

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Sudden Death Syndrome (SADS)

Sudden Death Syndrome is an umbrella term used for the many different causes of cardiac arrest in young people. Usually, they are caused by abnormal heart rhythms called arrhythmias. The most common life-threatening arrhythmia is ventricular fibrillation, disorganized firing of impulses from the ventricles (the heart’s lower chambers). In today’s article, we will be discussing a similar case that happened in Singapore, as well as a story regarding this.

Case description: Elise Fitzpatrick, 24, was found dead in September last year (2016), with the dental nurse student perfectly healthy before her unexpected death.

Her family has now spoken out about the struggle to come to terms with Elise's death, remembering her as a "kind and caring" young woman who "lived her 24 years to the full".

Mum Kirsty told The Sun Online: "There was nothing physically wrong at all with her, she was perfectly healthy.

"She did the normal things a 24-year-old did."

Mum Kirsty said she usually heard from Elise the morning after her daughter had gone out, but on the morning of September 3 last year, quickly realised something was wrong.

She said: "She always texted me in the morning to let me know she was OK.”

"I hadn't heard from her by 10am, which was fine, but I texted her through the day and still didn't hear back."

The worried mum raced to Elise's groundfloor flat, with dad Sean quickly realising something "wasn't right."

Kirsty said: "I jumped in the window and we found her on the sofa. She had just gone to sleep and didn't wake up."

Paramedics and police arrived at the flat soon after but it took weeks for the family to be told what had caused their daughter's death - "Sudden Adult Death Syndrome".

But Kirsty said: "To me, that's still not a reason, is it.”

"You have someone fit, healthy and living their life to the maximum and then for some reason, that's it.

"It still to me doesn't make any sense whatsoever."

Since Elise's death, Kirsty herself has been diagnosed with Brugada Syndrome, which sees an increased risk of sudden cardiac arrest.

While doctors are still looking into whether Elise had a link to the syndrome, Kirsty said the other family members including younger siblings, Macie, 11, Tilly, 8, Isla, 5, and Connor, 17, will be tested.

She said it was not clear what caused her daughter's death, saying: "There was nothing physically wrong with her heart. It just stopped.

"Now, it's like a ticking time bomb for our family.

"I just want as many people as possible to be aware of this - people are aware of cot death but we just don't know enough about this.

"It's a silent killer."

The family, of Rayne, Essex, is now working to raise money for Cardiac Risk in the Young charity, taking part in a bridge walk next month to keep their daughter's memory alive.

Admins: Rest in peace Elise. Life is short so do cherish what is around us before it is long gone....

Case description: A total of 235 cases of sudden unexpected death syndrome (SUDS) among apparently healthy male Thai migrant workers in Singapore were reported between 1982 and 1990. Most of the deaths occurred during sleep and 13% were not sleep-related.

The median age at the time of death was 33 years and the median interval between arrival and death was 8 months. These deaths occurred singly and sporadically throughout the year. Post-mortem examination revealed few abnormal findings except for hemorrhagic congestion or oedema of the lungs. There were moderate to severe intra-alveolar haemorrhages with some evidence of myocarditis or pneumonitis.

Preliminary findings of serial sections of the hearts indicate evidence of anomalies in the cardiac conduction system. Epidemiological investigations showed that a family history of similar deaths and serological evidence of current or recent infection with Pseudomonas Pseudomallei were significantly associated with SUDS. Extensive biochemical and toxicological investigations were inconclusive. There was no evidence of chronic deficiency in thiamine or potassium among the healthy Thai workers living and working in the same conditions as the cases, and no significant abnormalities were detected on electrocardiographic examination. As these migrant workers experienced various psychosocial problems which could stem from maladjustment to an urban environment, separation from the family, burden of debts and long hours of work, stress could be a precipitating factor for SUDS.

Which really means that they don’t know what is going on. However the Thais have a theory which will be explain in this story.

Site supervisor, male, 52

I’ve been working with Thai construction workers for some time and I’m friendly with some of them. There’s a story that’s going around about one Thersak which terrifies them. Thersak apparently woke up just before daybreak to the feeling of soft feminine hands all over his body. He became excited and stretched out his arms to embrace his “lover”. It was still dark and though none of his fellow workers sleeping nearby had woken up, they could hear loud grunts and groans. They thought he was merely dreaming. A few hours later, however, he lay dead.

This is one of many horror stories spreading like wildfire among Thai workers. In 1990, many Thai workers in Singapore died in their sleep from no obvious illness. Terrified of the phenomenon, the Thais have taken to uttering a silent prayer before going to bed. They claim that more than five thousand young Thai men have died since 1993 and there’s no way of knowing who will be next.

Various theories to explain the deaths have been put forward: the use of PVC pipes for cooking glutinous rice(a Thai staple), genetic factors,stress from work, unsanitary living conditions, an over starchy diet, vitamin B deficiency, even a tropical soil disease. But the most popular reason offered is “ghosts”. My friends are convinced a female ghost is stalking virile Thai men.

Thai folklore tells of a sex-starved ghost which is said to seduce males and sap them of their energy. That would explain why there’s no sign of disease or foul play, why they die only when asleep. Most Thais here come from northeastern Thailand where the ghost is said to originate from - the Khorat Plateau region with its blood-red soil.

One workers claims he managed to fight off the ghost. Pretending to be asleep one night, he saw a misty shape with a beautiful woman’s face forming above him. When it floated downwards almost touching his body, he yelled. The spirit vanished.

It is stories like this that caused widespread panic in the community. In May, there was a report that up to seventy percent of Thai workers threatened to leave. They said a monk from Bangkok had to be sent down to hand out amulets and pray for their lives. Some of them, however, have turned to witchcraft to protect themselves. You can find phallic charms made of wood, painted bright red, hanging in their doorways and some Thai men even sleep in women’s nightgowns and stockings, and paint their fingernails in bold colours to mislead the ghost into thinking that they are women.

That is the end of the personal story. We will be posting our conclusion here and before we do that, we would like to mention that SADS does not happen only among Thai workers. It does happen among other regions as well. Can this happen again? Definitely. It might not be to a mass number. It can even happen in individuals and even some of us! Reason being, people do pass out and die for no apparent reasons, and with medical reports that do not state any forms of abnormalities. We believe that a supernatural cause could happen in a form of black magic. Dirt or soil are widely used by witches or in any magic spells either to bless or harm people. Whatever insider stories the Thai workers have, we suspect that it is an art of evil from the story of ‘Blood-red Soil’. It could be during the time when there were about to travel to Singapore and needed to do a blood test beforehand. Blood collected then was probably not properly disposed and were used for black magic purposes, causing the supernatural phenomenon. It is also possible that the medical research was not advanced during that point of time and doctors couldn’t rule out any possible health issues.

Couldn’t it be coincidence that it happened to the Thais only? Despite having other foreigners from different countries staying together as well? One thing for sure, death is definitely inevitable.

Thank you for all the support! We hope you enjoy the case and we wish you all the best ahead. Till the next time, goodbye!

#cases #sudden death syndrome #horror #creepy #scary #horror blog #rest in peace #death #dark #unknown #witches #black magic #witch craft #pain #sadness #blood #supernatural #paranormal

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classicallyelegant · 6 years

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Yes, it’s me again......progress has been steady --- I guess. I don’t know. If you have a minute.....please let me hear from you. Thank you!

We go out of the building arm in arm. I can’t exactly explain why, but I’m so excited! It feels like such a weight has been lifted and I get to spend a day with the guy that means the world to me. Now, he’s not Matt, but Rod is so very thoughtful and I really meant what I said earlier. I would love to share things with him that I can’t really with Matt. It may sound complicated, but I do love, adore, cherish both of them. There are differences though. Matt and I can only go so far together. I think we’ve both realized that. Rod can go beyond……if we can only get to where we have that openness….that trust together! I truly hope we do because I honestly don’t want to give him up!

“Which direction do we go?”

“Could we drop by the restaurant first? I’d like to let Russ know I’m OK.”

“Sure, that sounds like a nice idea.” He smiles as he squeezes my hand. We go in and I ask the wait staff for Russ. A few minutes later, his smiling face is right in front of us.

“Princess! You’re up and about! I’m glad to see you, my dear.” He hugs me and shakes hands with Rod.

“Yes, I feel a bit better. I just wanted to thank you for checking on me. I am so sorry to make so much trouble this morning.”

“Oh now! I was glad to help out where I could and I’m so glad to see that Rod was a good nurse to you!” Rod blushes. “Are you two hungry now?”

We both look at each other and shake our heads. “No, darling, we already ate. We’re going to roam around the neighborhood since we finally have a free day together. Thanks for the offer though! I don’t want to keep you from your important work.” I smile.

“Nothing is that important around here.” He giggles.

“NOT TRUE! You are the true food master here!” I tell him. Now he’s blushing too. “I’m not the first to say such, I know! No one can top you, Russ!” He puts his hand over his heart and I just have to hug him again!

“Only one other person’s opinion means as much to me.” He whispers while I’m in his arms. I have to smile because I know he means Matt. I feel very privileged to be included anywhere with him, but especially in Russ’ eyes! I gently touch his face and he lightly kisses my hand. I adore this guy so much! I’m so glad he’s the one to be with Matt.

“Darling, we better get going.” Rod puts his hand on my back. Yes, of course, you’re right! We both wave goodbye to Russ and now…..off on our adventure!

We go walking towards our usual bus stop but we decide to keep going. As we round a corner, a music shop catches my eye. I didn’t think we even had such anymore. I grab Rod’s arm in amazement. He giggles and says “Wanna go in?” I can only nod because I’m speechless to see it. We go in and I’m immediately transported back to when this used to be a regular occurrence. Music posters and t-shirts everywhere and records….REAL vinyl records…..along with CDs and cassettes! I’m in HEAVEN! We stay close together but we each point out singers and bands we recognize. This is so much fun! We’re both looking at several records, but we have nothing to play them on at home.

“Excuse me, you two need something?” We turn to see a rather gruff looking man say to us.

“Oh, we were just looking at these records, but we don’t have any record player.” Rod says sadly.

“That all? We can fix that!” he motions for us to follow him. He leads us to a small room with several record players on display. I spot a red suitcase one that I fall in love with instantly! It has a beat up look about it but I ask if we can try it.

“Sure, darling…..here you go.” The man presents us with a record and I try it out. Oh this sounds so good! I think I’m almost hypnotized by this whole thing! I just clasp my hands and smile as broadly as I can to Rod. He looks a little skeptical but he asks the man how much. The man sees me and says, “Well, normally, I would ask about $50 for that record player.” Both our faces drop. “But in this case, I’ll take $25.” He smiles at me. I’m so happy; I hug him and Rod both! I gladly pay him and Rod picks out three records for us to listen to. We thank him and make our way back home. I can’t wait to listen! When we get back, Rod says he wants to go back for food, but I want to set up our new player, so he goes without me. I carefully take the record out and set it on the player. It’s real and in my hands! This is too cool! It begins to play and I can’t help it, I just start swaying along with the music. The slow jazzy tune has me slowly turning around when I notice Rod left the door slightly ajar. Crazy guy! I walk to close it when a hand comes through it. Who? What in the…?

“Hello, Maxey! Remember me?” My eyes focus and I recognize Mr. Key, the guy in charge of Russ and Matt’s adoption. What is he doing here?

“Umm, hi Mr. Key. I wasn’t expecting to see you.” I open the door only slightly more than it already is. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, I actually was looking for Russ but I heard the music coming from here, so I thought I would just drop by.” He smiles and looks down.

“You need him for something?”

“It’s nothing really. Just checking on him and his partner.”

“But neither of them are home right now.”

“Yes, I figured that when there was no answer. Oh well! It’s nice to see you again. I wanted to apologize about that little mix-up with the DVD. I really thought I heard your voice in that show.” He looks back up at me and he seems a little lost.

“Oh it’s OK. I didn’t have anything to do with that show though.” I’m standing by the door and waiting for him to get to his point.

“Have you known Matt and Russ for a long time?”

“Yes, I guess you could say that. I work with Matt.”

“Oh I see. That’s nice. He does seem to have all the luck.” He says more to himself than to me.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing really! I was just thinking out loud I suppose.” He tries to smile to me. “You still have your music going I hear. That sounds very good.”

“Thanks! My boyfriend will be happy to hear that you approve of his taste.” I watch him shift nervously. Is he really trying to talk to me for some reason?

“Of course you would have a boyfriend…….I figured such…..” He looks at me but I see over his shoulder that Rod has finally returned!

“Hi! I’m back with sandwiches again!” Rod grins and I’m overjoyed to see him. I open the door to let him in.

“So….you’re the lucky guy?” Mr. Key turns to Rod. Rod looks at me and then at him and smiles his biggest smile.

“If you mean that I live here, then yes! That would be me!” He comes in and sets his bags on the table before coming back and wrapping me in his arms. ‘I see you got the music going.” He says to me. I simply smile up to him then snuggle under his chin.

“I better get going! I’ll see y’all soon…..maybe….” Mr. Key goes down the stairs. Why did he even come anyway? Rod and I both say goodbye but I doubt he even heard us.

“Who was that?” he looks at me.

“Mr. Key. He was the one in charge of Matt and Russ’ adoption. I saw him when I went with Russ. He was the one to tell him no.”

“Oh I see! Why was he here then?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I have no idea!” Rod only smiles and rocks me in his arms.

“Tell me something….” He says as we make our way to the table. “Did I ever look that desperate to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Wasn’t it obvious? That guy is totally in love with you! Did I ever come off that badly?”

“Oh you!” I can’t help but laugh as we both sit down. “How can you say that when this is only the third time I’ve seen him? I highly doubt I could capture his heart in such a brief time period.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. You don’t realize the power you wield!” He smiles. Oh goodness! Not even in my wildest dreams would anyone be smitten with me at the first glance. “I know firsthand!”

“Oh whatever! You make me sound like some sort of witch or something and I am no such thing!”

“No, you’re no witch.”

“See?”

“You are an enchantress! A seductress! A…”

“And you’re crazy!” I laugh. “Maybe you need both sandwiches to get your head straight!”

“No, seriously…” Rod looks at me full of feeling. “Since I first saw you, I’ve felt like I was under your spell. You seemed to make any other around you just fade away. They didn’t matter. They didn’t exist! It was you! Only you! That’s why I’ve been so intent on keeping you. I’ve seen it firsthand how you don’t have to do anything….you just are something so special. I just worry someone else will see it and want it for himself. I will not go down without a fight though!”

“Dear, again you seem to think I have no say in this. I will just go along with any victor and forget what was? NO! That’s not who I am! Rod, I want you to realize something, please. A relationship is for both of us…..not just one. We both work at it; we both try to make it the best we can. That takes commitment, trust, friendship, communication, and love! Love on both our parts…..not just yours! I couldn’t tell you I love you if I didn’t mean it. Darling, I can’t be your ideal….I’m far from a perfect girl, but I want to be….no, I hope to be your partner, your equal, your best friend! The place you feel safest and the one you can run to with your secrets. Please don’t put me on a pedestal because clumsy me will fall off. Keep me close to you!”

He stands up and brings me up beside him. His eyes are misty, but he sweeps me into a kiss and I’m lost in his arms. “This is why you are amazing! You talk to me and my fears disappear. You keep me grounded but yet you’re there to celebrate any successes. I love you so much!” He picks me up and spins me around. “I don’t want anything to come between us but then I see how others react to you and I worry. Like today….if I had been alone in that record shop, that guy would have probably charged me even more, but he saw you…..your child-like delight, your humbling beauty…..he caved!” I smile and caress his face. I don’t see how I got him any better deal but if he wants to believe that, who am I to say no? “You were too irresistible!” He laughs and nuzzles into my neck. I keep both hands cradling his head.

#My Story

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its-love-u-asshole · 7 years

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I’ll See You Soon [fic]

Pairing: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki

Rating: T

Summary: Written as an epilogue for Shaking in My Skull.

It's always said that good things never last, but for them, the statement couldn't be more untrue.

Note: 2nd day entry! I had the sudden inspiration for this verse again, so yay for random epilogues lmao. Thank you to @emeraldwaves for checking this over!

AO3

"This is a rather big favor you're doing for them you know. I'm surprised."

Are you truly?

Despite the words, the tone was calm and pleasant, much like the room around them as they waited. Waited for the next step of a journey, one which Munakata knew wouldn't end, and shouldn't. Maybe that was why he felt the corners of his mouth lift softly, his eyes fixating on the clear depths of water below as the overseer of change sat beside him. Yet Nagare's voice held no criticism, no objections, as Munakata had predicted.

All was as it should be.

Munakata chuckled, his bones and eyes finally feeling the weight of exhaustion brought upon by several centuries at his post. He would rest soon.

Somehow, he'd never dreamed of being okay with this, with retirement, but the knowledge his throne would be well cared for dulled his worry. Perhaps, he thought, a permanent vacation was just what he needed. He closed his misty eyes for a minute, letting the resolve settle slowly into his being, the yoke of hell's guardian falling off his shoulders as if it had fully served its purpose.

Munakata opened his eyes again, though the mistiness was still there, and couldn't help but thank Mikoto for dragging him along to the afterlife by his side. Munakata guessed things did work out how they were supposed to in the end.

Which brings me back to this...

"Favor you say?" He asked with fondness, knowing the truth deep down, just as much as he had that first day, when two determined youths had ventured out on the Return together. "That's where you're wrong."

Nagare said nothing, only pulled away from the pool with a nod of amusement. Yes, he already knew the answer as well, and Munakata gave a fuller laugh this time, letting it echo off the meeting room's walls to blend with Mikoto's heavy breathing behind him as the angel snoozed.

Exactly as thing should be...

After all, favors were kindnesses given beyond the usual.

No, what he was doing...this was precisely what he owed.

The sounds of his heart monitor beeping were becoming normal by now, fading into the rolling of stretchers and medicine carts, drowning into the chatter of nurses and doctors alike. For most people it would probably be annoying, maybe ominous or sinister. Not for Yata.

He smiled slowly, his eyes managing to blink without succumbing to tiredness. It was hard, but he wouldn't leave without--

"Misaki..." The voice came from the bed right beside his, weak and barely there, but to him it was as calming as ever, capturing his attention in an instant. Misaki smiled wider, turning his head, though his muscles protested. Whatever, it was worth it.

Despite all the years he'd spent looking and thinking about Saruhiko, seeing his face never got old, no matter how old they actually got.

Misaki chuckled at his own joke, eyes sweeping over the body in the other bed. Saruhiko's hands were still at his side, toil worn and wrinkled, curled in on themselves from a life full of paperwork and overtime. Yata knew if the other stood, his posture would be god awful too, after his countless hours hunched over his computer. Dumbass.

As if sensing his thoughts, Saruhiko squinted at him, the crows feet under his eyes being accentuated by the expression, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. Yata laughed, and while it quickly turned into a cough, it didn't make it any less pleasurable. Saruhiko's eyes flashed in amusement, the bright blue hues as vibrant as ever. Beautiful, analytical, piercing. So very Saruhiko.

Yeah, totally worth it.

"Yes?" Yata's voice was hoarse, struggling, and at that moment he figured he must look the same as Saruhiko. Saruhiko, with his rough, sagging skin and white hair, the perfect picture of old age. Funny, Yata never considered his appearance as he grew older, how far they'd come, until now, sitting right on his deathbed.

No doubt he had receding hair just the same, aching joints and bad posture to go with them. He laughed again, feeling unbelievably alive from the realization alone.

Ninety-two years, not bad huh, Saru?

Yata felt his eyes water, and he doubted it was from his body aches. Not bad at all.

Saruhiko licked his dry lips, shaking his head as he glanced up at the ceiling. "Do you think they planned this?"

It took a second for Yata to realize who he was referring to, but when he did, he couldn't help but feel a weird surge of gratefulness. "Probably, knowing them."

"How cheesy."

"Are you complaining?"

Yata felt his heart stutter when Saruhiko smiled at him, probably both from the emotions it elicited, and the fact his time was almost up. His eyelids felt heavy, his thoughts scattered, but when he finally passed, he wanted Saruhiko to be the last thing he saw.

The last face he saw before he died, the first when he opened his eyes.

He didn't doubt Munakata and Mikoto putting this together, not letting Yata spend even a day without Saruhiko. Not to mention the date...

Perfect.

Saruhiko reached a quivering hand across the small space which separated their beds, as if sensing the impending fate as well. Yata gripped it as tightly as he could, keeping it against his chest as his heart pounded and skull shook from the effort of keeping himself alive. Just a bit more...

Saruhiko finally answered him, his voice cracking and fading slowly. "No...I'm..n-not. Misaki..."

The tone was as scolding as it could be, and Yata could nearly hear the implied meaning there. "Idiot, you'll see me soon. Sleep."

Sleep huh...you too Saruhiko...you should sleep...

Yata felt his grip on the other's hand slacken, and he fought against the urge to drop it, using the last of his energy to keep it close to him. As if he'd let Saruhiko pass through a door alone ever again.

Sleep...and I'll be here when you wake up.

Yata smiled, feeling his vision spin out of use, his lungs giving up as the two monitors in the room went haywire, and the last thing he could make out was Saruhiko's eyes closing, the grip on his hand tightening.

And then there was nothing.

There was silence.

A complete absence of noise.

Still and steady...

Yata Misaki. Age ninety-two, born on July 20th, died on the night of August 14th.

Fushimi Saruhiko. Age ninety-one, born on November 7th, died on the night of August 14th.

Saruhiko opened his eyes, seeing nothing but the blurred edges of walls around him, shining white. Blinding white, giving off the illusion of a never ending hallway. Same as always, he thought.

He was lying on the floor, his limbs frozen like in ice, and he slowly began twitching each finger, working to his arms and legs with practiced ease. The room remained hazy, and without faltering, he reached up, removing his glasses until the room bloomed into clarity. His skin felt smooth, his muscles strong, his body able, as if he hadn't aged a day since he was twenty years old.

The thought made something nostalgic inside him stir, and he wondered why he was surprised in the slightest. He gave an amused smile at the ceiling, reaching up to thread his fingers through his long dark hair, feeling the lack of a receding hairline, basking in the mobility of his joints.

He wondered if this was a gift too, being given back his youth, though he didn't care to question it. He had more important things on his mind, and he turned his head to the side calmly, ignoring the distant paranoia beating in his heart, telling him he'd woken up here alone.

No, he knew better these days.

Misaki's eyes were bright and glowing, as they'd always been. That had never changed, even with age. The amber color warmed Saruhiko to his toes, the love and fierceness he associated with those eyes threatening to melt him on the spot.

Misaki...

The other was staring at him in wonder too, his face youthful, his hair back to the same fiery color as before he hit sixty, and Saruhiko reached forward to run his hands over it, down Misaki's cheeks and lips, like he held the universe in his hands. Well, he sort of did. Misaki was his universe, had helped him build and strengthen his world until it was big enough for them to share.

Saruhiko's fingers settled on the redhead's lips, feeling them lift up into a huge smile, and it was probably that which made Saruhiko lose his control. He surged forward, catching Misaki's lips with his own, the kiss firm and all he'd ever wanted. Somehow, he'd never gotten tired of it.

Misaki pulled away with a snort, but his watery eyes gave his real emotions away. Saruhiko, for once, didn't feel the need to comment, probably because his eyes stung too. "I look that good huh, Saru? No more wrinkles..."

Please...

Their foreheads bumped together as Saruhiko shook his head, reveling in the silence around them, something which had once unsettled him to no end. Now it was a reminder, telling him his time with Misaki would never truly end. "No. You always looked good to me."

Misaki's eyes widened for a brief second, the tears in both their eyes building, before the redhead pushed back on Saruhiko's head with his own. It was all they could think of to deal with the emotions raging between them, and eventually, Saruhiko's tears spilled first. Both of them laughed regardless, no unhappiness or discontent to be found, and they clung onto each other a moment after.

The force of the hug had them falling to the floor again from where they'd sat up, but they didn't mind. Nothing would ruin this.

"I missed you Saruhiko."

"We were apart for a few minutes, tops."

"Doesn't matter," Misaki sniffled. "You idiot."

Saruhiko couldn't feel pain anymore, but he swore he felt his skin sting from how hard Misaki gripped him, and he wouldn't give it up for anything.

I missed you too. I love you.

How silly it was, given how long he'd been apart from Misaki in the past, for months, maybe even years as he faced the unthinkable. Saruhiko shook his head, smiling to himself. Guess it doesn't matter now.

For that point on, they'd get through everything somehow, like they'd always had.

Together.

"Hey Saru," Misaki said, pulling away with a laugh. The redhead reached up to wipe his tears away, a small smirk settling on his face. Saruhiko hummed in response, returning it. "I think we're late."

The statement actually managed to catch Saruhiko off guard for a second, but soon he was rolling his eyes, taking in the plain white room once more. Once late arrivals, always late arrivals, that much was true.

Saruhiko leaned forward, capturing Misaki's lips again in a quick kiss before he heard a door open behind him as if beckoned, and he heard the familiar sound of a cane clicking on the floor.

Saruhiko smiled at Misaki as the redhead offered him his hand, and Saruhiko took it gratefully, ready to face fate's next endeavor.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

#sarumi #sarumi fest 2017 #alternate universe #adri writing

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