#my grandma is coming home tomorrow so shes fine. but my dog … | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kinetic-elaboration · 1 year

Text

December 19: Clarke/Octavia, First Kiss + Decorating Cookies

2022 Ficmas #2

Clarke/Octavia, high school AU, ~1200 words

For the prompt "first kiss + decorating cookies"

Having lived fifteen years with a certified Christmas fiend, Octavia knows a few things about the holiday. The fiend in question is her brother, Bellamy, and he's taught her how to string popcorn garlands to decorate the tree; how to brew the best warm, spiced cider; and even how to safely hang lights along the roof of their house. She knows how to bargain shop for Christmas gifts and how to wrap them immaculately. For the last three years, she's been in charge of choosing the wreath to hang on their front door.

She also knows that the spirit of Christmas is one of generosity and community, which is why it makes perfect sense for the Blake family to all but invite Clarke Griffin to live with them this holiday season. Clarke's parents finalized their divorce in October. She's having just about the most cheerless holiday of anyone Octavia knows, and she gets the most pathetic hangdog expression on her face when she talks about how they haven't even bought a tree for her mom's house, or how her dad somehow lost the Christmas stocking she's had since she was a baby, and it's not like they ever went all out with the decorating, but this year it's been particularly grim...

So Octavia's mother insists that Clarke stay for dinner, and Bellamy invites her to help trim their tree. They teach her the lyrics to at least six new Christmas songs. On the night she gifts them a carton of store-bought eggnog as a thank you, she stays so late drinking it with them that Aurora insists she spend the night.

Octavia and Clarke have been best friends since they were three, so all this should be totally great. Except that Octavia has recently realized she's in love with Clarke, so instead it's all totally awkward.

Today, they're baking cookies in the Blakes' tiny kitchen while they wait for the promised snow to fall so they can go sledding on Wallace Hill. Bellamy's already warned them that probably won't be possible until tomorrow, but it's early yet—the sun still falling in flat, white-yellow rays across the sugar-streaked counter, lighting up strips along the avocado-colored cabinets, bleaching Clarke's blonde hair nearly white when she stands at the sink, her tongue between her teeth, carefully pouring vegetable oil into a measuring spoon. They're using great-grandma Blake's secret family recipe: right out of the back of a magazine from 1955, but it feels old and special because their mom wrote it out on an index card when they were little, and now the thing is dog-eared and stained. Clarke's wearing one of Bellamy's heavy knit sweaters, and striped pajama pants she borrowed from Octavia. She looks like one of them, like she's already home.

Makes Octavia's heart ache.

Being in love is the stupidest thing she's ever done.

"Is your mom going to kill us for what we did to her kitchen?" Clarke asks later, as they wait for the cookies to finish baking, and the clouds outside the window gather but do not yet break into the promised snow.

Octavia glances around at the carnage. It is pretty bad. Way worse than when she and Bellamy bake.

"Nah," she answers. "We're just breaking a few eggs or whatever."

"I think that's for omelets," Clarke murmurs and underneath the table, she bumps the edge of her foot against Octavia's foot.

The cookies come out misshapen but otherwise fine—"Not burnt at all," Clarke is happy to declare, as she pulls out the tray with a pair of snowman pot holders. "My first batch of cookies..." She sounds almost wistful, looks at them with a soft sort of pride.

"You've never made cookies before?"

"Nuh-uh. Jake and Abby were never into baking." Since the separation, she's taken to calling her parents by their first names. Octavia watches her, watching the cookies, but before she can decide what to say, Clarke turns abruptly toward her and asks, "So where's the icing?"

They have green, red, and white, and a little bit of blue hidden in the back of the cabinet, which has probably been there for years.

"We usually just do squiggles and stuff on them," Octavia says, as she lines the three not-suspicious tubes up in a row. "Sometimes Bellamy does polka dots but I think it just looks like he gave the cookie chicken pox."

"Just squiggles?" Clarke raises an eyebrow. "I thought you'd do like an elaborate Christmas scene or something."

"Me?" She mimics Clarke's expression, adds another layer of exaggerated surprise.

"Yeah, you're so into Christmas!"

"And my art skills peaked with stick figures!"

Clarke opens her mouth to shoot back another reply, then shuts it again. She's got that look on her face again, half determined and half nefarious, the look she gets when she has a plan and she wants to be in charge of it. Very carefully, she picks the tube of red icing, hands it to Octavia, and then selects the green for herself. "Everything you've done for me this Christmas," she says, "the least I can do is give you an art lesson."

Her voice sounds so much softer than Octavia thought it would be. Her smile is almost shy.

"Yeah," Octavia breathes. "All right."

If anyone asks, the stupid blush on her cheeks as Clarke leans over and guides her hand is just from the heat of the oven, the stuffy warmth of the old Blake furnace as it beats back the winter cold.

Together, they turn the cookie into an ornament, make another into a snowflake, draw a snowman on a third. Their chairs pulled close together, and Clarke's arm bumping up against her arm, and Clarke's familiar laughter in her ear every time they mess up—her laughter sounds so cute now, to Octavia's ears, and that's how she knows she's in this deep.

If Clarke were decorating the cookies by herself, her reindeer would look like a real reindeer, and not a bunch of red and green blobs. Octavia is really weighing this partnership down. She’s so consumed with this thought that she doesn’t notice as Clarke deliberately adds a dollop of icing to her finger—not until she says, "Oh, no, got some extra all over me," in her most deadpan voice, and then wipes it off on Octavia's nose.

Octavia stares back at her. "Griffin, are you trying to start a food fight in my mother's kitchen?"

"No! I'm trying to give myself an excuse to do this."

And she leans forward and kisses Octavia's nose, licks the icing off with a tiny flash of tongue.

It's the wildest and most unexpected thing that's ever happened to Octavia in her life, because this is Clarke, and that was a kiss, but she isn't sure what sort of kiss it was, and now Clarke is staring at her with a wide-eyed and open-mouthed expression that is a little hopeful and a little scared and a little excited all at once. Her face is as red as Octavia's feels.

So all in all, there’s only one thing she can do.

Octavia pushes the tray of finished cookies away, pulls her chair a little closer, and very slowly, very carefully leans in. Clarke doesn't pull away. She tips herself forward instead, meets Octavia's kiss awkwardly, sincerely, gently at first, her hands grabbing on to Octavia's hands. As they kiss, the frigid winter clouds converge outside the window, and flurries of snow begin to fall.

#the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #octavia blake #clarke griffin #octavia x clarke #clarktavia #mine #my writing #the year 2022 #2022: free write #ficmas 2022

8 notes · View notes

smokeybrandcompositions · 8 months

Text

Family Matters

I always find the generational gap between perspective to be interesting. Like, my extended family is having a birthday party for one of my mom's aunts and a celebration of life for one who passed this year. She's very adamant that i participate but i don't see the point. A little context, my mom has these awesome memories of her time hanging out with her family. She has stories for days about her cousins and aunts and everyone. That's fine. I do not. I did, early on, but after my grandma died, it's like all of those relationships went with her to the grave. My grandma died when i was around twelve years old. I turn thirty-nine tomorrow. I've not had a relationship with these people (or the ones my age, to be honest) for two and a half decades. I've lived an entire life away from these people so, when they have get-togethers like this, I'm just there. For my mom, this is a big deal. It's family. It's all of those memories she has, given form. For me, it's basically a bunch of people I've seen a handful of times since my grandma died. I just don't care.

My mom subscribes to the Boomer notion that you can't choose your family. Blood is thicker than water and all that. I do not. I learned much later in life that the full quote is "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb." Basically, the actual saying means that you choose your family, that those bonds aren't tied by relation. Why would i want to spend time with people who basically threw my entire family away the second my grandma passed away? To be clear, this isn't me holding a grudge. I wasn't hurt that they stopped coming around or calling. Hell, i didn't even notice until one of my kid brother's pointed it out when i was well into adulthood. Like, i don't have a desire to stick to these people for leaving me out to dry or whatever. I sincerely don't care. I have my tribe. I've had my tribe for decades now at this point. I'd choose any of them over time with my extended family, any day of the week. And, in absence of one of mu chosen, i default to me.

I have very limited time for myself. I work a regular nine to five, but really i start at five so it's more a five to five. Get off work and then i take care of my mom. She's in bad shape so i tend to do the heavy lifting for her. Take out the garbage, walk her dog (which i do in the morning before i go to work, too), clean the kitchen, and whatever else she needs. I generally knock out by about nine or ten. I have around four hours to myself when i get home, and even then, I'm still kind of at the mercy of my ma's beckon call. Saturdays, i tend to sleep in because, of course, but those are the days where i have to run her errands. My ma refuses to drive because she's scary so that falls on me. Generally, from ten to twelve on a Saturday, I'm doing sh*t for her. Thems is part-time job hours, bro. Afterward, I'm still on the hook for all the sh*t she needs me to do during the week after work, too. Sunday is the day i reserve for myself, as much as possible but, even then, a third of it it is filled with my chores. Grocery shopping, cleaning, clothes washing, and i still have to walk her dog twice a day. I don't begrudge my ma for this at all. She's old and needs the help. That's fine. This is just context for why i don't want to do "more" than i have to do. Sh*t eats into my "Me" time.

I write. I draw. I game. Hell, sometimes i just want to throw my Spotify on shuffle and vibe. What's that sh*t called? Self care? There is value in that for me. Much more so than spending time with people I've seen less than my best friend, and he's been dead for four years. That's not hyperbole at all either. My best friend passed away in 2019. I'd known him since the eighth grade so, what is that? 1998? We had been in each others' lives for twenty years. I talked to that man multiple times a week, even when i moved to Arizona. Even when he got married and disappeared for a year. Even when i moved to Houston, we stayed in touch. We hung out for a few hours two weeks before he passed. He changed my brakes, we drank a carton of Newman's Own Lemonade. We blasted Du Hast at three in the morning. It's one of my happiest memories and the last one we shared. I don't have one like that for any of the people I'm expected to hang out with today. None of them. But, for some reason, in my mom's eyes, the non existent relationship i have with them, should carry the same weight as the one i had with my best friend, just because "family."

That sh*t doesn't make any sense to me. It feels like her definition of family is basically just obligation and i disagree. I don't owe anyone, anything, ever, and i don't think setting that boundary is such a terrible thing.

0 notes

smokeybrand · 8 months

Text

Family Matters

1 note · View note

inkstainedwanderer · 2 years

Text

Me yesterday: I am finally getting life back on track. I got the paycheck owed to me two weeks ago and I'm about to be caught up with rent! Back to 38 hours a week, so maybe I can finally get food in my fridge and still have money to do something fun! This is great. I like this. Oh? My friend is spending $500 a month on gas and cant find an apartment in my area? It feels good to have a spare room to offer temporarily until he can find one! And if he says yes I can save even more money. Oh yeah. Good things are happening!

Grandma last night: It's happening. Your uncle is dying. They have him on so much morphine that he's just checked out. I'm coming up there tomorrow. Can you come out and visit?

Me: /at work, already tearing up/ Oh.... um... I mean.... I can try, but I just started my work week today.

Grandma: Also, we were hoping you could take Cujo tomorrow. He isnt getting any attention. Your uncle doesnt even know he's there.

Me: Well... I mean... I just started my work week, so i wouldnt be able to be home to see if he adjusts or make sure he and my cat are okay. I work eight to ten hour days most of the time so I couldnt even be there to let him out... I could try this weekend? I'm at work now, but I can see about things tomorrow.

Grandma: /clearly frustrated/ Well, you know Bandit cant live without Cujo. We were hoping you would take them both.

Me: /lives in an apartment and already said I couldnt take two dogs before/ I-... If I could, i would, but I cant.

Grandma: well, Bandit is going to get put down then.

Me: /quietly crying and distressed, avoiding eye contact with coworkers/ If i could... I just cant. I havent even really got to talk to my building manager about Cujo.

Grandma: I'm just letting you know. But I'll be up there, your other uncle is going to pick me up tomorrow. Oh! And he's not going to last long either. He's dying too.

Me: Oh....

Grandma: I'm sorry if this is upsetting, especially with you being at work. How about I call you back tomorrow?

Manager: /asks what happened because I'm failing to not be a crying mess/ Do you need to leave? If you gotta go, go. We'll be okay.

Me: I cant do anything. I dont want to abandon you guys. /spends the rest of the night crying in a cycle of mourning my uncles, stressing over the dogs, and feeling guilty about how I wish I didnt have my family anymore because I'm so tired of being put in these situations by them.

Yep... just as I was getting back up... gotta get kicked back down again. It just feels like the way of things now. And people say I just need to be positive and not focus on the negatives, but I was being positive when things were going good. Reality is that things are not good. No amount of focusing on the positive changes how shit this whole thing is. They've literally told me i'm losing two family members and then dropped the weight of two other living creatures deaths in my lap at the same time. There is no positive. One third of my family sells drugs and weapons, one third of my family betrayed me when my dad was dying, and one third seems to lack any empathy for the fact I am not the person who needs to be saddled with all of the emotional burdens 24/7 for the past 16 years. She's already carrying a ton of bags, let's just give her some more! Yep. Yep. I am fine. This is fine. I'll just look at the positives. It isnt raining today so i can ride my new bike to work and stay dry. That makes me feel so much better.

#Inkrants

1 note · View note

luvspence · 3 years

Text

roommates (IV)

spencer reid x reader

synopsis: roomates roomates you know the drill

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

more roommate fluff -> I, II, III

———

lily

you were a dog person

cats gave you allergies, and you always thought they were mean

but spencer

loved cats

every time you two would pass by the animal shelter on the way to the grocery store

“y/n please!!!! please let’s go in!!! i just wanna look”

you could never say no to him so often you followed him into the shelter, watching as he waved to every cat

on one of these occasions spencer was reading the summary of a little gray cat named lily

“lily is a mellow kitty with a lot of love to give! she loves to cuddle next to you and fall asleep on your lap. she ha-“

he was cut off my the shelter employee

“saying hi to lily? i love her. unfortunately we have to put her down tomorrow”

“WHAT” spencer nearly passed out at the idea of killing this little kitty

“yeah, she has a respiratory condition, so if she doesn’t get adopted today we have to put her down”

spencer looked at you with pleading eyes

with “please let’s save this cat” eyes

with “i’ll literally buy you all the allergy medicine” eyes

you looked at him, then the cat, then him again

you couldn’t say no

you nodded your head and before you knew it you were walking down the street, lily in a carrier in spencers hand

“this is so great”

spencer was rambling on and on

“you know you’re gonna love her, just take an antihistamine and you’ll be fine”

you sighed and looked at him and the cat

you crouched down to lily, gave her a pet on the head

she reciprocated by scratching your arm and sending you into a sneezing attack

you looked at spencer, eyes watering from the allergies, runny nose and all

“your lucky i love you spence, because this cat will be the death of me”

———-

sos!

“he’s kinda werid y/n...”

“says the man who just knows the surface area of every major lake in america”

spencer was sitting on the floor of the bathroom while you go ready for your date

“okay,,,, he’s a little strange, that’s why we’re having our date here!, so you can help me if need be”

“still, this idea doesn’t sit right with me”

it actually didn’t matter who the guy was

it could’ve been the most perfect guy in the world and it still wouldn’t sit right with spencer

because in his eyes, no one way right for you, no one was good enough for you

and he wrote that off as being “overprotective” when he really just just jealous

you finished curling your hair and turned to him

“how do i look?”

he stared at you in the bathroom of the apartment, you were dressed casually, but you put up your hair into one of those little bungee cord hair ties that spencer adored. as well as a fun patterned grandma sweater that you two found together at the thrift store

“b-beatiful, in the truest form y/n”

you gave him a smile

“aweee! you’re gonna make me blush”

you headed out the bathroom to set up

“wish me luck! and i’ll call sos if need be”

“okay! have fun”

—-

the entire night spencer would practically hear your uncomfortableness from his room

how often your date crack a joke and you’d awkwardly laugh, or you’d talk about something your passionate about and he’d make an insensitive joke

spencer decided it was time to try and intervene, he walked out into the kitchen and saw you doing dishes

“oh tyler this is my roommate, spencer”

“why hello there spencer! isn’t he a handsome fellow, if you have him why did you even bother inviting me over”

you gave him a half smile and spencer stood next to you while you washed dishes

you and spencer both were fluent in american sign language

so you signed

“ S O S “

in the sink to get the message across

spencer nodded

tyler was asking spencer “so how do you contain yourself while living with someone that looks like that!”

spencer gave him a look, he was clearly creepy and you were visibly uncomfortable

right when tyler was about to open his mouth spencer said

“oh i’m sorry, i’m getting a phone call”

he picked up the phone

“hello?

oh hi

right now??

okay okay i’ll tell her

okay thanks so much hotch”

he turned around and looked at you

“look tyler, that was our unit chief and we’re getting called in on an emergency case”

“oh damn! they need both of you?”

you stepped out of the kitchen

“yup, the whole team, i just got the text from penelope”

“aw rats! well i guess i could walk you guys down then?”

you and spencer looked at each other, you both knew there was no case

“y-yeah let’s go”

you grabbed your coat and spencer grabbed his keys

tyler made conversation with himself while you and spencer scurried down the stairs

“well, y/n i had a lot of fun tonight, call me?”

“yeah... for sure”

he went in fir a kiss but before he could open his eyes you and spencer were driving down the road

“oh. my. god.”

spencer just laughed

“i can’t believe that just happens to me”

“i told you so!”

“oh my god! i’ve got to listen to you more often”

“indeed, now we have to drive to the bau in case this creep is going in the same direction”

you sighed and looked back, thankfully he wasn’t there, but you didn’t mind making the drive with spencer

“thank you spence thank you”

“anytime y/n”

———

one bed 😱

{this is cheesy but it’s a classic}

“cimex lectularius, more commonly known as the bed bug. usually feeding on human blood, their bites have usually an allergic affec-“

“spencer, can you just hold your end”

you and spencer were dispensing of your bed bug ridden mattress

“ugh! this is so gross spence”

you said as you lowered the mattress into the dumpster

“i hate this”

——

later that night you were packing a bag

“hey where are you going?”

“pens, she’s letting me sleep on her couch until my new mattress comes”

spencer’s face went sad, he hated when you left

“we have a couch here!”

“it’s too small”

“y/n... penelopes is all the way other other side of town, and i don’t want you driving their all by yourself “

you sighed

“jeez you sound like my mother, and spence a girls gotta sleep somewhere”

spencer looked at his bed then you

“i have a bed”

“spencer you sleep in that bed”

“yeah but it’s a big bed! and i don’t mind! and wouldn’t you rather be at home with all your stuff?”

you looked around for a second

“are you sure?”

“yeah i’m sure”

“thank you spence”

you said as you started to unpack your bag

you worked at the computer until around midnight when you decided it was time to head to bed, you found spencer awkwardly curled up on the left side

you crawled into bed trying to take up as little room as possible on the right edge

spencer flipped onto his side

“y/n you’re about to fall off the bed”

you pretended to not hear him and before you knew it he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you the center of the bed

“well hello there”

“hi spence”

you two laid there next to each other for a while, so badly wanting to be closer but also not wanting to violate any boundaries

“hey y/n?”

“yeah?”

“are you cold?”

you lied

“kind of”

“me too, here is it okay if i come closer?”

“yeah of course”

he scooted up next to you, and you slumped into his chest a little, until you eventually drifted off

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fluffy #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x y/n

102 notes · View notes

shadow--writer · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I LOVE your writing!! may I request something for modern! Muriel where he goes to a school, never talks to anyone and maybe still lives in a hut, so he doesn’t really know all the modern stuff. He sees the MC (fem would be nice) and develops a crush on her. One day he sits in like a library and he’s on his laptop and the poor guy just doesn’t know what to do with it, so the MC offers him help and he’s a big blushing mess. She invites him to come to her house to study and she has this small apartment with like lots of flowers and animals so he feels right at home and they talk about plants,animals and stuff? it’s so much I’m sorry, I thought it’s cute 🥺

awwwww omg thank you so so much! I’m still super surprised people like my writing and like me enough to follow just I love y’all.

So these are in headcanon form and I went a little wild. Also this counts as a little birthday present for @tabbybells since I thought of Bink and Muriel the whole time I was writing~ Lov u and your amazing artwork. You’re super fun and very sweet, if y’all have the time go check them out! Wonderful art of Muriel and a super adorable MC cat bastard named Bink. (there is a bonus with Bink and Muriel too after the other headcanons just for fun! Lmfao hope I got Bink right XD)

Muriel x MC modern au. Made it college, he’s a Veterinary Science Major MC is not specified with gender and major (you two have science classes together tho ;3)!

~~~~

Muriel is the more reserved student, SUPER DUPER smart and really good at what he does but more reserved

Hear me out here but: he has glasses. Thick black frames, he pushes them up his nose with his shoulder a lot when he gets distracted

He does struggle to use his new laptop because he was just fine with his old one until it broke on him.

You found this kinda funny. You’re studying in the library for a science test and this really big dude is just pouting at his laptop with the blue error screen

Of course this gets you out of studying so you go over to help him. At first he waves off your help, until you show him you have the same laptop and know what you’re doing

Then he gives in

“Good luck trying to fix this mess. Ugh my old laptop was better than this junk.”

...he had a 10 year old laptop that was the size of a brick and ran like a 94 year old woman with arthritis it was not better

He’s smart just not super tech savvy. Think ye old dad’s asking their kids for help with tech kinda not tech savvy.

It’s okay because he’s freaking adorable when he pouts over his laptop not working for the eight billionth time

You two start to chat a little bit after helping him boot up his laptop, and it’s goodbyes from there when you’re done

But he started going to the library pretty often after that in hopes of seeing you again

You come in every day to study and check out something new (or pester the librarians.)

So the two of you run into one another a bunch. Each time he has a new problem with his laptop (sometimes they’re real other times it’s an excuse to talk to you. O-Only to get help of course!)

Depending on you it might take a few days or a few months to catch on to his plan

And once you do, it makes you smile and laugh a little because gosh he is quite the dork

Of course you developed a little crush on him too during this time, but one day he comes in to actually study

You two have a science exam together to you invite him to come study over at your house

He tries to hide it but he lights up at the idea of spending more time with you, so of course he accepts (after...a moment of pretending to think about it. He didn’t want to seem too eager and scare you off)

When he first sees your apartment he’s....in shock to put it lightly

So. Many. Things.

He likes it a lot. The amount of animal stuff you have on your walls, plants hanging from the ceiling and a bunch on every window sill. Birds/cats/dogs/hamsters etc chattering around

It’s very bright and warm he feels at home immediately

You make warm drinks while he sets up in your living room, looking super large in this almost dollhouse couch and coffee table

It’s quite a sight, but he accepts the drink eagerly. You two study for a bit before the books get forgotten and you just...talk

About anything. Everything. The weather. Your classes. And it moves to animals.

He gets all excited and lights up when he starts talking about Inanna (met her injured in the woods outside of town when she was a pup. He nursed her back to health and she’s never left his side since)

When he talks about her he gets all animated and opens up a lot more. Still soft spoken and shy

If he notices you staring he’ll blush red and go quiet

But when you ask questions and ask for more stories he’ll slowly warm up to being animated again

You’re...really easy to talk to like this

When it gets late and he has to go home you kiss his cheek and send him off

Bright red he is.

But he can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

MODERN BINK AND MURIEL HEADCANONS UNDER THE CUT. This is what im good at so Happy Birthday Tabby! 😎👉👉

Modern au Bink feels like a cat person to me. All the cats. Any cat he runs into he gets. House is filled with cats. It’s hilarious

Muriel calls him Grandma because of this. Bink in turn calls Muriel Grandpa due to his troubles with tech

Asra knits them both matching ugly sweaters

They wear them every time they see Asra

Bink and Faust have gotten into staring contests when they go over. Muriel finds them amusing and they can go on forever

Bink loses every time but he will not give up

“...you do know she doesn’t have eyelids right?” “I DON’T CARE I’LL BEAT HER”

Bink (to me) seems like a reigning champ of roller skating. Super graceful and finds it fun (gonna add Maeve in here real quick because this hit me: Bink and Maeve are the power couple of roller-skating.)

Muriel is uhh...not that. Clumsy, and VERY out of his element. Bink takes it upon himself to hold Muriel’s hand and guide him around

To outsiders it’s hilarious as Bink is 5′5 and Muriel is 6′10 and looks like he can bench press a truck

Muriel whittles Bink little presents and cat toys

He keeps the wooden animals on a shelf dedicated to them. You could map out their relationship through the wooden carvings.

Muriel lives on coffee. Bink is banned from drinking coffee

Asra has a polaroid camera and a cork board of pictures of Bink and Muriel

Faust and Inanna are good friends

Inanna and some of Bink’s cats are not friends

Inanna is banned from Bink’s apartment due to this fact

Bink and Muriel go on a lot of late night dates. They both like to nap with one another in a sunbeam on a couch

Muriel is the dad that passes out when he sits in a comfy chair. Bink is the cat that curls up on Muriel’s chest to soak in the warmth

Said cats will gather around them as well if they can

Asra has taken to calling them the oldest married couple

They are an old married couple, sinking into home like routine

Muriel carries Bink on his back when they go out into town because Bink does not want to walk

Bink and studying don’t go together well due to poor attention span (FAIR) Muriel has created a reward system for him (yes Muriel still has his glasses, and yes Bink steals them and wears them himself. yes he has gone blind in them. Yes Muriel has lecture him. yes Asra has a picture of this)

#the arcana #the arcana game #muriel #muriel of the kokhuri #bink #muriel headcanons #the arcana headcanons #fluff #college au #Muriel is an old man #HAPPY BIRTHDAY TABBY!#friend's apprentices #mc x Muriel #muriel x apprentice #muriel x bink

68 notes · View notes

elsewhereuniversity · 3 years

Text

About Face

“Do you have any questions about your prescriptions today, uh…m-miss?” The pharmacist’s question is laced with assumptions about who you are. It’s not great, of course, but it’s also not worth your time to fight about today.

“No, I’m good,” your smile and voice are sugary-sweet, but your eyes are daggers as you take the bag and turn back towards the door. The heat and humidity are already staggering at 8 am and you are immediately made sticky by the brief walk to your car. As you start it up, there’s a brief chime of email-receiving from your phone, but you ignore it. Then there’s another ding, this time your lab-mate, Valerie, texting you.

Hey, u almost in? In like 30min. had to stop by pharmacy

K. Jill was looking for u. Also ugh that paper for tomorrow, I’m not even a birdsong person lol

Lol get over it, I had to read one of your fancy neuro papers last time. Did jill say what she needed me for?

Whatever lol. She didn’t say.

Ughhhhhhh

Jill, Dr. Dominguez, is your advisor, and you know you need to get her some figures and sections of your thesis soon, but these damn stats…well. There’s a reason you prefer spending your time traipsing off-trail through the wilderness over sitting in front of a computer all day. Not that this part isn’t interesting and important too, but come on.

Traffic is moving at a sluggish pace, of course, so you’re lost in contemplation and dread of the analyses you need to attempt running today, and the inevitable conversation with Dr. Dominguez that will have to happen at some point. As the traffic finally begins to move, you grit your teeth. Maybe it’s time to consider actually asking for help. I have no fucking clue how to do multivariate shit…You stare ahead as you inch forward, before a frustrating, jolting stop at a red light. Your eye is drawn to a kid crossing the road, wearing a grey hoodie. They look forlorn, for some reason you can’t entirely enumerate, and you glance back at them as the light finally turns.

The sun isn’t very high yet, so there are still some odd shadows stretching across the sidewalk, but you could’ve sworn that the kid had no face.

****

You manage to put the pharmacist and your grandma and the obviously-just-a-trick-of-the-light-I-mean-how-else-could-that-be faceless kid out of your mind for the rest of the morning and actually get some results you can work with from the analyses you’d been worried about. And when Dr. Dominguez pops into lab to talk to you, she is actually impressed at both the pace and quality of work you’ve delivered thus far. In fact, you’re feeling pretty damn good about everything, despite the earlier unpleasantness, so you decide to grab some lunch and hang out with some of the other grad students and lab techs.

Lunch-special sushi in hand, you plop yourself down at one of the rundown old tables in the work room. Valerie is there, along with Raul, one of the grad students from a micro lab down the hall, and Jackson, one of the general lab techs. Everyone says hi, but you’re only vaguely following the conversation as you dig into your spicy tuna roll. Something something TA stipends being cut. Which is such bullshit, of course, but nothing new. You’re just about to jump into the discussion when you get a Facebook notification. It’s your cousin, who tagged you in a post. You stare for a good five seconds at your phone.

Just remembering the good times with my cousin before he decided to be a transsexual.

And then a picture from when you were 14, a picture you’d thought you’d deleted from every conceivable online location. A picture that highlights pretty much every single aspect of your body that made staying in the closet completely untenable. Everything just always happens at once, huh.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter, and are surprised to feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes.

“Becca, you alright?” Valerie asks, and you belatedly realize that everyone at the table heard you and is now staring. They think you were talking about one of them, or responding to something they said.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just something my cousin posted. She’s—she can be such a jerk. Don’t worry about it,” you say as you hastily wipe away the tears.

“What’d she do?” Jackson asks. Valerie glares at him so fiercely that he rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, “Just, like, if you wanna talk about it.”

You sigh. You’re not precisely going stealth, but you also don’t just talk to everyone about being trans. Have you actually come out to Jackson? Valerie knows, and Raul, but you don’t think you’ve ever directly talked to Jackson about it.

“It’s—it’s fine. Just, she posted a picture of me from before I came out, and I really hate thinking about any of it.” You speak with a bit more force than you intend.

“Why is that a big deal?” Jackson asks, taking a bite of his pasta. Valerie glares at him again and Raul just shakes his head.

“It’s just…it took me a long time to figure it out, and I don’t particularly like being reminded of that. And it’s not great for dysphoria, either.” You say this distractedly as you go to the post and untag yourself.

“That’s really rough,” Raul says, frowning.

“Sorry, what’s that word?” Jackson asks with a raised eyebrow, “I guess I just don’t get it? It’s just a kid picture of you, what’s it matter?”

And that does it. You stand abruptly, “I need to get back to the lab.” You hear Valerie and Raul berating Jackson as you walk away, but you’re just so very done. You toss the empty sushi container in the trash at the corner of the hallway, near one of the windows overlooking the main walkway through campus. And you nearly trip over your own feet as you swivel to double check something down below. A gray hoodie. A child with no face looking over their shoulder as they turn a corner.

****

You don’t mean to take the wrong street. It’s already been far too long a day between all of the inanity with your extended family and Jackson. And everything you tried to run after lunch was a bust, making you feel like Dr. Dominguez’s praise earlier was completely undeserved. Given all of that, you decided to get takeout again, even though you really should be cooking, so you’re walking to pick up your order. It is early evening, the shadows having elongated to embrace nearly everything, and while debating whether it’s even worth confronting your cousin about the jab, your feet simply take you the wrong way. You don’t even notice, until you’re standing in front of an empty park that’s three blocks over from where you should be. Or, wait.

Not empty. One lone figure, sitting quietly on one of the swings, wreathed in shadow.

You’ve been walking quite quickly, but over the course of a few steps have come almost to a stop. With a shiver, you glance around the area, but no parents or adults are in sight, and the figure looks young, even from a distance. 12, maybe? Maybe the kid lives in one of the nearby houses? Probably. Should you call someone? Who? Not the cops. They’d just as soon arrest or hurt the kid as help them. It isn’t that late, leaving the kid be is probably the most prudent course of action.

But. The kid feels…familiar. Even from a hundred meters, you can see that their shoulders are hunched, their hands are tight on the chains of the swing. The gentle creaking as those chains move with the slight shifts of the kid’s body is despondent in a way that is known to you, somehow. So, against your better judgement, you leave the sidewalk and walk across the damp grass to the edge of the playground. When you step onto the sand, the kid’s head jerks up and their shoulders tense further, raising almost to their ears. You stop walking and from the new angle a streetlight throws the kid’s grey hoodie into stark relief.

“Are-are you okay?” you have to clear your throat to get the words out and your voice sounds weak and tinny in the still, silent park.

The shoulders shrug. The kid is also wearing jean cutoffs, their scuffed sneakers unlaced.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

A sharp shake of the head, and then their hands release the chains and fall into their lap.

“Don’t need anything,” the kid’s voice is low, you can barely hear what they’re saying. Gingerly, you take the last few steps to the swing set and awkwardly settle into one of the worn rubber seats. Only after you have already done this do you think to question why you are so compelled to talk to this child who—maybe? how?—has been dogging you all day.

“I said I don’t need anything,” the kid says in an emotionless voice. Their face is still completely shadowed by their hood and shaggy hair.

“I just—look, kid, I think I’ve been where you are, and—”

The kid cuts across you, “I tried to tell them today. But I…couldn’t, I didn’t know how to, so I just ended up saying I like girly shoes and wanted some or whatever.”

Oh. So you were right. You know exactly what’s going on. In fact, you’re pretty sure you had that precise conversation, once.

“That’s tough,” you acknowledge, slowly pushing back in the swing, which creaks beneath you, “It took me a long time too.”

There’s silence. Then:

“That’s what I was worried about.”

You start and quickly glance over at the kid, who has finally turned to face you.

She doesn’t have a face, which, you suppose, really shouldn’t be a surprise. You weren’t seeing things, earlier. There’s just a smooth expanse of dark olive skin. The featureless head tilts to one side and she speaks again.

“I thought you might recognize me.” The voice is plaintive. With every word, you feel a sense of vertigo, like there is a mouth, somewhere, that is making those sounds, that it’s right in front of you, but you cannot perceive it.

You are breathing very rapidly, “I thought—how do you know me? What’s, I mean—”

“This?” the kid gestures at her face, “I don’t know, I can see but I can’t see myself, I dunno what’s going on. All I know is I was walking to the park and then I was here, or I mean, on the road this morning and saw you and I followed you and I just want to go home or just sleep or just melt away but I can’t, okay? There’s just nothing.”

Without noticing, you have sprung to your feet and are backing away from the faceless girl, the faceless girl who can’t tell her parents who she is. Who you are.

“I didn’t want to think about it,” you whisper. Why are you even responding to this? This is a hallucination, or a dream. You’re just reacting to the whole bullshit situation with your cousin and Jackson and that fucking pharmacy tech. Did you fall asleep back in the lab, is that it? You pinch yourself, but no luck, “I came out and that was what I needed. Okay? Why dwell on, on, on all of that shi—stuff that happened before?”

The girl is still sitting placidly in the swing, though her hands are once again clenched around the chains.

“I knew you were me, I guess. So I followed. I don’t think anyone else notices me either, not that that’s anything new,” The note of bitterness in her voice cuts you to the bone, “I thought maybe you—me, future me, whatever—would be able to…fix me? But nothing’s changed, has it?”

You’re backed up to the slide now, “Why are you doing this? What even are you?”

You slump against the side of slide, your knees suddenly weak, “This cannot—this is bullshit, I don’t know how you’re doing this, but—”

The faceless girl is in front of you now, hands jammed into the front pocket of her hoodie. She stands there, contemplating her future self, “I just want to understand,”

The kid, proto-Becca, or whatever or whoever she is, sure sounds like a kid desperately trying to make sense of something, and not some ghoulish nightmare creature.

“Just stop,” you say in a hoarse voice, “I just don’t want to think about it, I shouldn’t have to think about it, I just want to move forward.”

“Yeah,” proto-Becca abruptly falls to her knees, and draws them up to her chest. It takes a few seconds for you to understand the sounds that the kid is making are sobs.

You hug your own knees and contemplate getting up and running away and just forgetting about all of it: this faceless phantom of your childhood self, your relatives’ inability to accept your reality, the absurd, useless, pointless stats and analyses. You’re crying too, desperately trying to refocus on the here and now, instead of being drawn down into the rabbit hole of loneliness and regret and fear that always consumes you when you think too hard about those years in which it felt like your whole body was turning against you and you couldn’t find any satisfactory explanations for what you were feeling.

But the sounds of proto-Becca, of proto-you, sobbing into her knobbly knees bring you back to the present. Ironic, that. No matter what else, however she got here, whatever happened to her face, she’s a kid. She’s a kid. She’s. A. Kid. You were a kid.

You furiously wipe your eyes and nose and sit up, scooting a bit closer to proto-Becca.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you say in as steady a voice as you can manage, “I was scared, and, and, and I lashed out. It’s not your fault, kid.”

She doesn’t lift her head, but the sobs are quieter.

“I mean, kid, no offense, but you don’t have a face. And somehow you’re me, right?” Okay, that came out meaner than you meant it to, “The truth is that I’ve done my best to forget pretty much everything that happened back when I was…you, I guess. But I can’t.”

She sniffles, “I’m trying to tell them, I am. But the boys at school, every time I try to talk to Mom or Dad I see those boys laughing and yelling and coming at me and I can’t, I don’t—know how I ended up here, or what to do about this or anything. I just want things to be normal.”

And, finally, you get it. Not why she’s here, or how, or what any of this means, but, at least, what to do. You’ve tried to help kids who were like you before. You’d never have told them that they needed to keep their feelings concealed, that they needed to not do anything so as to avoid reminding you of your own past. So why, then, are you doing it to yourself?

“Is it okay if I come sit next to you, maybe give you a hug?” you ask, as gently as you can.

You get a glimpse of the faceless face from behind the curtain of hair, “I—I think so?”

You get to your feet, a task far more laborious than you feel it should be, and cross to her. When you plop down by her side, she twitches, but it’s toward you. Slowly and carefully, you wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders, and hold her close. She’s still crying, and the hood has slipped from her dark curls.

“It’s okay that it’s taking time,” you say, “It’s really, really hard. I meant that. There’s…nothing out there. No one to explain to you, to, uh, us, what these feelings mean, really. I remember. I remember how much it feels like you’re just stuck in the same looped computer program. Endlessly completing the same actions with no idea why, only feeling like something isn’t right. And so scared of what happens if you do anything that breaks that loop.”

“That’s pretty much it,” she says with a note of wait, that wasn’t completely in my head???, “I don’t see how I can explain to anyone, especially Mom and Dad.”

“I think all you can do is be honest. There are some resources out there, although maybe they aren’t published yet,” you glance sideways at her, “But if you just…elucidate those feelings you’ve been sitting on, it at least opens the door to them comprehending.”

“I guess so,” she sighs, and then giggles, “But also, like, no offense, that was, like, a really freakin’ pretentious way to say that.”

You snort and ruffle her hair, “Whatever. Something for you to look forward to, then.”

She’s quiet for a bit and then, quick like a bird, she wraps her arms around you too, “So I’m gonna tell them, then?”

You shrug, “When you’re ready. Whenever that is. And I promise, you are no lesser if it takes a while. Okay?”

“But you’re still going to hate thinking about me, right? I mean, about how long it took me, you, to finally do it?” her head tilts.

You sigh, “I don’t know. It’s hard, I won’t pretend it isn’t. But I think I can at least say that it’s okay. That it’s not my, or your, fault.”

When you look up, her face appears. Smile first. Broad and full of braces, her quick and nervous brown eyes darting to your face and then back to her knees.

“You’ll be fine,” you say, giving her one last squeeze, “I’m the living proof, right?”

Her laugh lingers in the air as she fades away.

#transroadwarrior #stories #long post #about face #body horror #of the faceless variety #trans #transphobia #briefly #becca #proto becca #submission

128 notes · View notes

xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 3 years

Text

Mission of Mercy: Thirty-Six

“Sam,” you call, as he walked through the house from the bathroom, “Make sure none of those knuckle heads throw their back out trying to set up that tripod.”

“On it,” he said, glancing out the Cabin’s screen door to see Joe and Cooksy having a very animated argument about how to set up the aforementioned piece of equipment.

Natasha and Sharon watched him go and Natasha turned back towards you, “Jesus Christ.” You were sweating and Natasha was fairly certain you’d started cooking some time around 5am and hadn’t stopped since. “How?”

You shrug and wipe the sweat out of your eyes with a towel slung over your shoulder, “It used to be my mom, my grandma and I. Then Grandma died and mom stopped coming so…Here we are.”

You’d like to cry. You’re tired and your back hurts and you can feel the muscle cramps from standing in one spot for so long trying to get everything done. But you don’t, you just resume chopping to try and get things on the stove so you can finish things over the fire. Camping is work. Something no one else really seemed to understand.

Sharon drifted out to go be with Sam and you take a deep breath, tossing your knife into the sink with more force than was probably strictly necessary before adding the onions, tomato, and garlic into your waiting, perfectly seasoned cast iron pot.

Natasha squeezed behind you to get to the sink and started washing. She wasn’t entirely sure if you wanted help but. She didn’t blame you for being irritated by the male voices outside bellowing laughter while you were stuck inside trying to feed everyone you’d planned to feed AND the people that had decided to come along.

She couldn’t feel the tension in the air but she’d worked with you long enough to see it ratcheting down on you. It was like someone was twisting a corkscrew down your neck. And she’d be lying if she said it didn’t break her heart a little. She wondered, in the back of her mind, how long it had been like this on these little excursions. And if it was always like this or just the added pressure of having to also feed gods, supersoldiers, and other sundry heros.

______

You stood on the porch watching the goings on for a minute and sighed. There was still cornbread to be made but at least that you could do outside. It was hotter than hell in the kitchen and the breeze off the lake felt like heaven as it cooled the sweat on your forehead. You hefted the pot slightly closer to your body and started down the steps carefully.

“Move,” you snap. You’re hot and this pot is heavy and you really don’t have the patience to be polite and wait for someone to listen to you.

Sam started and pulled Sharon out of your way quickly to let you through and you sigh, starting across the grass to adjust your fire and get the chili on properly. You can feel people watching you and it rankles. Honestly with all the strong ass men that have been drinking and laying around all day, you’d appreciate it if someone would have at least ASKED if you wanted the extra set of hands.

You wrestle the cauldron sized pot into place and wipe your forehead on your forearm, swaying slightly on your feet. “Can someone-” you start the sentence but. You can’t really seem to find the rest of the words. No one’s looking at you. They’ve all gone back to doing… whatever. And all you want to do is cry. There’s still so much left to do. And you realize that if you wanted to work this hard all weekend you could have just stayed home holed up in your office.

But. Your boys like corn bread. And it isn’t their fault that Tony rented out what feels like half the lake. So. You turn and go to get the things you need to make it. Just the way your grandma did. Because she learned from her mom. And so on and so forth. It was the only thing Joe ever asked for and you were going to make sure he got it.

Bucky watched you disappear back into the house and frowned. He’d not seen you all day. Not since you slipped out of bed to make sure Cooksy got his pancakes and there was breakfast waiting on everyone else. But even from a distance, you looked wrecked. And he didn’t miss that you were limping just a little. He wasn’t sure if it was your old injuries or a new one. But he whistled to Lucy all the same and started back up the beach.

_____

He stopped at the kitchen door and watched you for a minute, watching you mix batter and talk to the dog who was sitting very patiently to have her ears rubbed just like she liked.

“Are you having fun?” you ask, kneeling for just a minute to lavish attention on her, “Out there exploring? I’m gonna have to check you for ticks tonight before bed.”

“You okay?” Bucky watched you look up and his stomach twists. You look hot and tired. And even Lucy seems to know that all is not right. Her tail, which usually wags nonstop when you talk to her is still and she’s frantically burrowing into your chest like she can will you into feeling better if she wipes enough eye boogers on your shirt.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, catching yourself on the counter as you waver on your feet trying to stand up straight.

“Now say that and don’t fall over,” he said folding his arms.

“I’m not arguing with you, I’ve got too much to do,” you tell him, pouring batter very carefully into your freshly greased pan.

“Sweetheart,” he started.

He wanted to put an arm around you and make you sit down but when you brush past him, pan in hand, he had no choice but to follow you. And watch as you knelt by your fire to make sure everything was exactly how you wanted it to be.

“Something smells good, kid,” Joe said, lowering himself into a camp chair with a groan

You make a soft sound but otherwise, you don’t answer. It’s still hot, this close to the fire but at least you can feel some of the breeze of the lake at your back. And you’re not standing up. That’s good. Standing hurts. Kneeling like this hurts too but at least it hurts new muscles.

“Cornbread is an art,” you explain to Lucy, scritching her neck.

“Damn straight,” Joe agreed, chuckling when the little dog waddled her way over to investigate her pop up dish for treats.

Bucky came and took a spot on your other side and leaned over to kiss your head. Your hair is damp with sweat and he can see the tremors in your hands when you reach out to carefully adjust pans. “Thirsty?” he asked softly.

“And hot. And hungry. And tired.” you answer.

“Baby-” Bucky starts. But he stops when you shake your head. You don’t want to talk about it. You don’t want anything. You just want to be done. And you want to go home. Bucky gets to his feet and kisses your head again, going to get dishes and find an ice pack to put on your back when you decide to stop being grumpy and let him help you.

By the time the corn bread is all done and the chili has simmered into it’s perfect state, fireflies are drifting over the grass. You straighten up slowly and set the last pan on the wooden table with a clang.

And that’s the last thing you remember.

At least until you roll over and dry heave into the grass for about a minute.

_________

Bucky saw you waver for a second and he’d never been more thankful to be fast in his life. He didn’t quite manage to catch you, but he did manage to keep you from smacking your head on the concrete right behind you.

He isn’t sure who handed him a cold cloth and he honestly doesn’t really care. All he knows is that he’s kicking himself for not sticking closer to the house. And that there are several team mates he’d personally like to strangle.

“Easy,” he cautioned, wiping tears and snot off your face with a clean handkerchief and putting an arm behind your back to help you sit up.

“ ‘m okay,” you protest weakly.

“Get her inside,” Nat said quietly, nudging Bucky. Most of the party hadn’t really seen what happened. And Nat figured you’d probably like it to stay that way.

“Put your arms around my neck,” Bucky murmured, nodding.

You did. Too disoriented and tired to do anything else. And Bucky carried you carefully into the bedroom that you were sharing, laying you on the cot. You whimper just slightly and Bucky takes a second to run practiced hands over your limbs feeling for anything broken.

“Easy,” he repeated, putting a hand on your chest to keep you still. “Someone bring me some cold water. And rags.”

Your skin was the wrong temperature. You were too hot and too cold all at the same time. Heat exhaustion then, not heat stroke, he decided and pressed a kiss against your forehead. “You gotta take it easy,” he scolded gently, taking the ice water and a stack of wash cloths from Joe and Natasha before shooing them out.

__________

Bucky sat on the floor by the bed and watched you sleep, stroking your hair. He was afraid to sleep next to you, worried that you’d get too hot. He hadn’t even wanted to let Lucy sleep with you but the poor puppy had cried like someone was killing her when he shut the bedroom door.

“You’re not doing anything tomorrow,” he muttered. “All you’re gonna do is lay in the shade and watch those chuckle fucks figure out how to feed everyone.”

#Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #natasha romanoff #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort

25 notes · View notes

pixieungerstories · 3 years

Text

Quarantine -3

It would have been nice to have something other than the word of a shadow to go on. I stared at the ceiling. I wished I had a cat or a dog or - hell - a pet hamster. Some other living thing in the house. I had no idea what Nick was but I wasn’t entirely sure he counted as a living thing.

“Humans who don’t sleep start to hallucinate,” I muttered to myself. Maybe if I actually got some shut eye, I would wake up and this would all be a dream. “Fuck it.” I got undressed and crawled under the covers. I settled under the covers, then realized I was facing the closet, so I rolled over. Having the door in my blind spot wasn’t necessarily better.

“Nick?” I wasn’t really expecting an answer. “Can you move the bed to another room?”

“I can. I don’t want to. I like having you where I can see you.”

I nodded. “I’ll go sit in the kitchen until dawn.”

“Go! To! Sleep!”

I jumped then started to shake. “Yelling at me isn’t going to help me sleep,” I muttered.

The bedroom door slammed shut. Rattling the door knob and pulling as hard as I could didn’t make it budge. “Please don’t do this,” I whimpered, then I screamed as something brushed my face.

The door opened suddenly enough that I unbalanced and fell on my ass, but a moment later I was running down the stairs and out the front door. I was at the gate before I knew what I was doing.

The cops were still right there.

“You need to go back inside ma’am!” the closest one called. After that they were all looking at me.

I paced for a moment, uncomfortably aware how odd I was behaving. I needed to get out of here. I needed a smoke. I needed to stop acting weird before they decided I had killed my neighbours.

Oh god. I was trapped in a house with a creature that probably killed the looters.

I didn’t want to face the idea that Nick was a killer.

“Ma’am! Go inside!”

“I saw what happened on the news,” I explained. “It’s giving me nightmares and I’ve been stuck in that house for more than a month. I wasn’t expecting to be quarantined in a construction site.”

“Be that as it may, you need to go back inside,” the patrolman called.

“I’m more than six feet away from you. Can’t I just stay out here near some other people and the street lights? Please?”

“You aren’t exactly dressed for the weather,” he pointed out.

I crossed my arms over my chest as I realized I was standing on my lawn in my night dress. I should go in and at least get my robe. It was in the room with Nick’s closet.

I thought about just confessing to something so that I could go with them. Prison wouldn’t have Nick. Maybe I just needed a hospital. No. That was a death sentence these days.

He was driving me off. He had flat out told me that he was good at that.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“No!” I snapped. “I’m scared.”

He gave me a pitying look but still insisted, “You need to go inside now. You will be safe in your house.”

I snorted, and swatted at the bugs that had found me.

“Go inside,” he said gently. “The last thing you need is to catch something from the mosquitos.”

I nodded slowly and headed back in to sit in the kitchen. Maybe he would let me make a pot of coffee. When I got inside the lights in the kitchen was on and the bed was set up on the main floor.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome. This is temporary. You will sleep upstairs when the walls are repaired.

The next morning I got a phone call ordering me out into the garden as a forklift delivered a load of drywall. It was left in the middle of the floor next to my bed. I looked at it. Nick’s voice was too close to my ear, “Someone will come hang in tomorrow.”

“How did you pay for this?”

“You have an excellent credit rating and you aren’t spending much of your money.”

“Great. Did they say how long it would take?”

There was no answer to that.

“I guess drywallers wear masks all the time anyway,” I mused. “At least there will be some other people around.”

“Yes.”

I didn’t have walls the next day. In fact things were worse as the last of the lath and plaster was taken down. They found hundreds of razor blades in the wall in the bathroom. The construction guys assured me that it was normal to find all kinds of weird things in the walls of old houses, but they still looked uncomfortable that it was razor blades and that some of them were more bloody than you would expect from a mere shaving accident. I spent the night picking them up with tweezers and dropping them into a jar for safe disposal. Nick didn’t say a word and the lights stayed on that night.

One half the team turned up the next day. No one commented on why that was.

I ordered a hammock and a grill for the backyard. I got the hammock but someone had changed the grill to a chiminea when I wasn’t looking. It was nice, but I couldn’t cook on it. My order had also been edited to include a bunch of bug repellant candles and some sunscreen. I tried to figure out if that was something a shadow creature would actually do or was this another sign that I was losing my mind.

Either way, I worked on the concrete table out back at the very limit of the wifi during the day and concentrated on fixing up the yard after official work hours.

One of the drywallers sold me a patio umbrella.

I also got the lecture that just because the walls were up didn’t mean that it was safe to use the shower.

“You still have to get a membrane installed and your tiles up and sealed,” the guy explained.

I nodded, “You don’t happen to know a tile guy that is still working?”

He frowned, “I’ll ask around. Do you have tiles yet?”

“No,” I admitted.

“That might be the hard part. You can still find a few guys willing to come out, but all the factories are shut down.”

“Shit.”

He gave me a look of sympathy. “Yeah. There are stories of people doing penny walls or using their grandma’s china to tile just so they have a working bathroom.”

“I don’t have either of those things,” I said sadly.

He nodded, “I’ll ask around. It isn’t a big project and people might have some leftovers.”

Given how protective Nick was of the house I should have expected his warning. I was still unimpressed to see “no ugly tile” written on the drywall in the morning. Still, he could have used the last of my lipstick and instead had found a pencil somewhere. I tried to ignore it as I brushed my teeth. I didn’t even have a mirror over the sink. Grumbling around the toothbrush I realized, “Fuck. I’m the only person who could buy a haunted house where the ghost had been watching too much HGTV.”

That earned me a creepy house shaking laugh and proof that he hadn’t just left.

“It’s your fault,” he purred in my ear. “You are the one who fell asleep all those nights with decorating shows playing on repeat on your computer.”

I sighed. “Yeah, it was,” I agreed sadly. “If I hadn’t would you be haunting me right now?”

“If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have seen the value in what you are doing and I wouldn’t have spent a week keeping you alive when you got sick. Perhaps you would have been haunting me.”

I frowned, “I wasn’t sick for a week! It was only a couple of days!”

“You should check your calendar. It was a couple of days of you being sick and a week of me forcing you to breathe.”

“There is no way I lost a week without noticing!”

He didn’t say anything. When I checked my calendar there were nearly two weeks missing. I told myself it didn’t mean anything. Nick used my computer, he could have just deleted the information. I could just call work or Penny or someone and ask how long I was away for.

I kind of didn’t want to. What if he was telling the truth?

I took my coffee and toast and ate breakfast outside, once again wishing for a cigarette. Nick had never left the house, as far as I knew, and I didn’t want to talk to him just then. This was ridiculous! Shadow monsters didn’t … do that! They didn’t … exist. I was just … this wasn’t happening!

I was out of coffee and the coldness of the concrete bench was soaking through my night shirt and into my ass. I had left the folded towel I used as a cushion inside overnight so it wouldn’t get damp. Now I was cold and damp instead. Fuck.

When I made it back to the kitchen, my laptop was open and had apparently been searching for bathroom tiles. ‘Fine. Whatever. Pick something nice that I can afford.”

I don’t know what I was expecting him to do, but contacting a local stained glass artist wasn’t it. I really wasn’t expecting her to check if it was OK if my boyfriend picked out the design since it was my credit card that was paying for it.

I was afraid to ask, but I had to know, “What did he pick?”

Nancy cleared her throat, “Well, originally he wanted a reproduction of a stained glass window from Maison Schott in France. But when we talked about how complicated it would be for a tiler to install that, he settled on a simpler rose on trellis pattern.”

I set down the phone to close my eyes and scrub my face. “Do you like what he picked out?” She seemed a little taken aback by the question. “Yes? It’s a little modern for your age of house, but it’s a nice piece and will be easy to install. It mostly uses different textured white glass, so it would be in keeping with a white bathroom. I can have it ready next week. I’m not exactly over run with work right now.” She paused before she added, “I’ll send you some sketches and if there is anything you need changed, just let me know. I could really use the income, to be honest.”

“Yeah. I understand that. I guess I’m just doing my part to keep the economy running.”

“I really appreciate that. The whole ‘buy local’ movement ended when we weren’t allowed to leave our houses,” Nancy pointed out.

“Ok. Send me the sketches and the quote and I’ll get back to you in the next couple of days.”

I lay in bed that night and looked at the newly drywalled dining room ceiling. “What are you doing, Nick?”

“Making a home for you,” he whispered.

“Can I even afford this? You don’t have a secret money vault hidden in the walls with the razor blades, do you?”

There was a long moment of silence, then he whispered, “You could sell the wine instead of drinking it.”

I froze. “Just because it’s old doesn’t mean that it’s valuable,” I pointed out.

Something caressed my calf as he purred his reply, “But it is.”

I closed my eyes and let my body melt into the mattress. My breath caught in my throat as the touch moved up my leg. As soon as I made the noise, the contact vanished. I groaned.

“What are you doing?”

“Breaking the rules,” he grumbled from across the room.

I needed to know, “Why were there razor blades in the walls?”

“There was a slot in the back of the medicine cabinet for used razor blades to be dropped between the wall boards so that they were safe and wouldn’t hurt anyone in the trash. That was perfectly normal at one point in history,” he explained.

I considered this, “Why were there bloody razor blades in the walls?”

He didn’t answer that one. “Why haven’t you used your little toy since I cleaned it for you?”

Now it was my turn to be silent.

“You liked that toy,” he prompted. “I liked watching you enjoy yourself. Good for everyone.”

“That’s really creepy. Can’t you just watch porn like a normal person?”

“Porn isn’t as satisfying,” he replied. Then he added, “For either of us. And I am not a normal person.”

“I noticed.”

“Would we have fucked by now if I was?” he just sounded curious. The vocal leer from a moment ago was gone.

“I would have had you arrested by now if you were.”

The low chuckle rumbled through the house at that. I closed my eyes and he stroked my face. “Let me watch,” he purred. “I can feel how badly you want.”

That made my eyes snap open. “What?”

“I can taste your fear, but also your pleasure. I enjoyed watching you cum in a way that humans can not understand. And I am very aware of your frustration.”

“What happens to my soul if a shadow … creature watches me play with myself?”

“It gets to live in a house with a happier guardian?” he suggested.

“A guardian? Is that what you are?”

“Guardian sounds better than monster or eldritch god but that’s just semantics.”

“I’m pretty sure there is a difference,” I pointed out.

“Perhaps the difference is what I’m doing at the time. And right now, I am guarding this house, taking care of you and hoping you will take care of yourself.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” I joked. “I’m too damn tired!” I thought for a moment, “I need more rules, Nick.”

“Like what?” he asked in a breathy hissing rasp that sounded pretty much like how I imagined a death rattle would sound.

“Well, there’s that,” I pointed out. “Now I’m scared and I can’t see you so this is going to be another night of sitting up until I fall down.”

“You need to rest,” he murmured in a more normal voice for him. It wasn’t human sounding, but it wasn’t deliberately scary.

I had already set up and was fumbling for a light switch. I shrieked when he caught my hand. “Ugh! Look, either I get to sleep or you get to scare me, but you have to pick one. And I can’t see when you are going to touch me, so it’s scary every time. That’s why I asked you not to. But if you can’t do that, can you at least tell me when it’s coming?”

“Would that really make it better if you knew I was going to lick my way up your back?”

“It would if I knew you would listen when I tell you not to. This is about trust, Nick. I don’t trust you. I am already very aware of how vulnerable I am here. You could easily lock me in the basement and wait for me to starve to death. You could smother me with my pillow. Hell, you could slice open an artery and hide the razor blade in the walls.” I stopped abruptly, wondering if I was just giving him ideas. “I can’t stop you and I can’t leave and I can’t trust you not to lock me in the bedroom because you think that will help me sleep.” He let go of my hand. I turned on the light and looked around the empty house. “My head hurts and I don’t want to be afraid any more.”

“I have never done anything to hurt you, but I can see how I have done things that are frightening.” It sounded like a whisper on the very edge of hearing. “Turn out the light, lay down and I will rub your back until you can sleep. I will do my very best not to be scary.”

I turned on my laptop as a source of light and sound before I turned off the light switch. “I can’t believe I am saying this, but if you want this to be less scary for me, find me a nightlight. I haven’t needed one since I was ten, but, congratulations, I do now.”

I felt the bed dip. It didn’t always do that. “I’m going to rub your back now,” he whispered. “You can tell me to stop.”

“Ok,” I acknowledge.

It wasn’t a massage; it was more like a person petting a cat. He started at the top of my head and stroked back to my waist, then stopped and started again. It was vaguely soothing and I was really exhausted by then. At some point in the night I woke to see a huge black shape hunched over my keyboard.

In the morning I had emails confirming my order of six cartoon animal night lights from IKEA and one from an auction house saying they would be happy to broker the sale of my wine and that they would send an expert to confirm its authenticity.

I wondered how you forge wine.

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined #shadow monster

32 notes · View notes

jobean12-blog · 4 years

Text

Top Shelf: Chapter 19- Book Ends

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (bookshop, bartender, baking AU)

Word Count: 2,096

Summary: Spring is on the way and with it lots of new ideas and beginnings...

Author’s Note: So I have this ready and I was excited to post so it’s a little early again. I know the moodboard probably gives too much away but I enjoy making them so much! Hope you love this chapter and I did it justice. It was hard to imagine how this would go down but I think it was grand enough in the choice of place and the words and attention to detail that make it work without being too much. I’m rambling! The Meatball Shop is such a great place, check it out here, I’m hungry just thinking about it! haha I hope you like it and THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for your continued amazingness, you are all the best! Much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: SUPER SOFT FLUFFY SWEET LOVE :)

Top Shelf Masterlist

It’s early Sunday afternoon when you get the text from Peggy that the wedding proofs came in. You and Nat reply with several uppercase letters and happy emojis, agreeing to meet at Peggy and Steve’s for dinner and a browsing party. “Hey babe?” you shout, waiting for Bucky’s reply. He pops his head out of the bathroom, “yea baby, what’s up?”

You rush over to him and do a little dance, “Peggy said the proofs came in so we’re gonna go over there later and eat and drink wine and look and photos and no boys allowed!” He starts laughing before you even finish the sentence, shaking his head to get rid of some excess water. “Hey! You’re splashing me!” He drops the towel from around his waist and rubs it over his hair. “Better?”

Keeping your eyes on his you cross your arms, “mmm, I don’t know, let me check.” You walk closer and run your hands through his hair, the soft fluffy locks only slightly damp now. “Yes, better.” His arms snake around your waist and he pulls you all the way into the bathroom, picking you up and sitting you on the counter. “You have way too many clothes on,” he simpers, spreading your legs and standing between them. “Well then you better do something about it before I leave.”

-Cut to Bucky’s POV about and hour later-

“Hey Steve, can you meet me today? I’m sure you know Peggy got the proofs and the girls are coming by your place to look at them. It’s the perfect opportunity for us to go.” Steve chuckles into the phone, “of course, wanna grab a bite first? Let’s get tacos!” Bucky’s stomach grumbles as he happily agrees, quickly getting off the phone before you come into the room.

*****

When you arrive at Peggy’s she already has the wine out along with some snacks. Nat shows up a few minutes later and you all get comfy on the couch. “How did you get rid of Steve?” Nat asks, shoving some cheese into her mouth. “He said he and Bucky were gonna get tacos then go see Sam.” Nat finishes chewing, "that sounds about right.” You all laugh, ready to enjoy the beautiful photos and help Peggy pick some out.

You get home later than you thought, finding Bucky standing in the kitchen, a cookie half stuffed in his mouth. “Hi doll face,” he mumbles through a mouthful, “did you have fun?” Grabbing a cookie for yourself you kiss his cheek, “I did, the photos are amazing! There is one of us dancing that is so perfect Bucky! I ordered an 8x10 so we can frame it and hang it up!” His eyes light up, “that’s great, I can’t wait to see it.”

“So how many tacos did you eat?” He’s about to pop another cookie in his mouth but he stops, eyebrows knitted as he thinks over his answer. “Hmmm, probably like 12.” He shrugs, eating the cookie whole and going to get some milk. Downing the small glass, he says, “these are really good by the way, is this the new sugar cookie recipe?” You do a little happy dance, “it is! I think I finally got it right! They’ll be fun for Spring because I can do all different shapes and decorations!”

Bucky reaches his hand into the cookie jar for another one, but you smack it, “don’t do it, you’ll get a stomachache.” He makes a sad face, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Save it Barnes! And save some cookies so we can snack tomorrow! I can’t have you eating my bookshop supply!” He puts his hands up in surrender, “fine, fine. But they are really good!”

Later that night you’re cuddled up in bed, reading your book while Bucky absentmindedly plays with your hair. “OH!” he nearly yells, making you jolt and sit up. “Sorry, I just remembered something I wanted to ask you. He smirks, continuing on, “so Spring is right around the corner and the weather is getting nicer and warming up so I was thinking we could set up some tables outside the bookshop. Maybe add an awning or just umbrellas and plants or something.”

You watch him talk, his eyes bright and excited and when he finally stops rambling you crawl on top of him, kissing his lips. “That is an amazing idea baby! I love it!” His eyes crinkle in a smile, “ok great, I’m glad, I thought you would like it.” A few comfortable moments of silence pass while you stroke his beard, lightly kissing along his jaw. “You know what else is coming up,” he says, almost dreamily. “What?”

He stops your hand and holds it, kissing your palm, “the anniversary of the day we met. Do you remember it?” Playfully tapping your chin, you pretend to think it over. “Ummm, I think so, maybe. I mean it was SO LONG ago.” He rolls over and squishes you into the mattress. “Oh. I see how it is. At least we know one of us is a romantic!”

A few weeks later…

You walk outside with a hot cup of tea and some of your rose macarons, placing them down in front of Grandma Betty. “This should warm you up a bit!” You sit down across from her, wanting to take minute to say hi. “It’s really quite beautiful out, I love that you set up this area.” She bites into the cookie, immediately smiling. “Oh, these are just delicious! Well done sweetheart!” You bring her two more before going to the back to put more in the oven.

“Grandma is loving those rose macarons baby, nice work.” He gives you a quick kiss before grabbing more coffee. “Can you save some for us, I was thinking maybe we could stay at the bookshop tomorrow night since I’m not working the bar. Would be the perfect snack.” Smiling over your shoulder you happily agree. “I should have some left and if not, I can easily make another batch just for us.” Bucky licks his lips and winks, heading back out with the coffee.

Bucky lays back against the pillows on the floor, hands behind his head and his long legs stretched out in front of him. “What are you doing doll?” His eyes follow you as you walk around the attic, scanning the bookshelves and quietly humming to yourself. “Just looking for something to read, any ideas?” You can’t see him, but Bucky let’s out a silent breath, rubbing his hands together and standing. He wipes his palms on his sweatpants and walks toward you.

“You know we never finished ‘The Never Ending Story,’ we could read more if you like?” Smiling at him over your shoulder you walk toward the shelf it’s on, filing through the spines in search of the title. “Perfect.” Pulling it from the shelf you hug it to your chest and turn toward Bucky. His eyes look bright with tears and you rush over to him, taking his hand in yours. “Bucky? What’s wrong?” He raises his hand to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb across your lips before kissing you.

The softness of the kiss takes your breath away and when you open them Bucky smiles, looking down at the book in your hands. “Ready?” You simply nod, lovingly stroking the cover of the book and thumbing the pages. You notice the ribbon bookmark, fingering the silky fabric before following it down and opening to the page it’s on.

Your eyes drop to something that catches the soft glow of the star lights hanging from the ceiling, it’s sparkle dancing over the words on the page. Your hand covers your mouth, nothing but a muffled cry escaping and when you look up Bucky is on one knee in front of you. The tears that filled his eyes earlier threaten to spill from the corners as he reaches up to take your hand in his. Your lower lip trembles and you squeeze his hand so tight, feeling as if you might float away at any moment.

“That’s for you.” You both laugh through your tears and you try desperately not to throw yourself into his arms, knowing he has more to say. “I knew you were special the day we met. And every day after I fell in love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing you every step of the way. And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality. I’d find you and I’d chose you. You will never be anything less than everything for me. Will you marry me, y/n?”

You fall to your knees and throw your arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder and saying “yes,” over and over again. He holds you for what feels like eternity, the thundering beat of his heart in sync with yours as it becomes steadier and your tears begin to dry. Lifting your head, you kiss him a thousand times, but it never seems enough and finally he says against your lips, “do you want to get a better look at the ring?”

Your cheeks are red and still wet from tears, but your smile is bright. “Yes! I’m just. I’m so happy, Bucky.” He picks up the book and unties the ring. Taking your left hand in his he slowly slides it onto your ring finger, kissing it before you pull it away to admire how perfectly beautiful it is. “Wow, it’s gorgeous. I couldn’t have picked a better ring myself!” You move your hand back and forth, the light from the moon filtering through the skylight reflecting off the diamonds and painting your face in shimmers.

“I can’t wait to marry you, Bucky.” You barely whisper the words, but they hold more weight in their honesty than any others, as if your heart spoke them. The mood shifts and Bucky has you in his arms, his body covering yours and his hands and mouth desperate to feel every inch of you. The sounds of city outside melt away and it’s only you two, skin to skin, every nerve ending alive with each other’s touch.

Thankful that you don’t have to wake up for anything you both sleep late into the morning, the sun bright and shining through the window, heating your bare skin and rousing you from your slumber. Your head rests on Bucky’s chest as you gently scrape your fingers through his beard, causing soft hums of pleasure to rumble through him. “I could stay like this forever.” Cuddling closer and pushing off the blanket you joke, “me too, except we might cook first.”

His laughter shakes you more awake and you roll over, stretching your limbs. The sunshine catches the facets of your ring, making it sparkle brilliantly and you can’t help but let out a squeal. “OMG BUCKY IT WASN’T A DREAM!” He takes your arms and brings you back to him, “no, it wasn’t. But it is a dream come true, you’re really gonna marry me.” Wiggling your fingers to get one more look you turn your eyes to him, “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”

“Why don’t we get dressed, and head home to shower then we can see if anyone is around to meet for lunch? Wanna go to The Meatball Shop, I’m already hungry.” You’re about to tell Bucky you are too but your stomach grumbles, saying it for you and you laugh. “Definitely, I could go for a giant plate of spaghetti.”

Once you’re back at your apartment you get yourself cleaned up, Bucky handling the texts to see if Steve, Peggy, Nat and Sam can meet you. “Did you hear from anyone?” you ask Bucky as you fix your hair. “Nat said she and Sam already ate but they expect us at the bar later and Peggy and Steve are on the other side of the city so it’s just us I think.” Smiling you skip over to him and plant a kiss on his lips, “sounds good to me, I’ll just tell everyone we see on the streets the news.”

You decide to walk to the restaurant considering it’s such a nice day and Bucky keeps you busy by asking you questions about when and where you want to get married. You don’t realize you’re just steps away from the front of the restaurant and your friends are waiting outside the door until you hear Sam yell, “well, I guess this means she said yes!”

@aesthetical-bucky @book-dragon-13 @bugsbucky @buckys-broody-muffin @breezy1415 @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hawksmagnolia @hailmary-yramliah @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @lorilane33 @lokilvrr @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @loricameback @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @tuiccim @the-wayward-robot @yansi1923 @flyawaybay @throwmyheartawayagain @amandatar-06 @nd1998sc @captainchrisstan @vherriepie @godofplumsandthunder @fire-flv @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @irishflutiegirl @rinthehufflepuff @moonybarnes @nordlysinthewoods @lauratang @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @buchanansebba @addikted-2-dopamine @lady-pswrld @buckys-henley @lookiamtrying @mishaandthebrits @hopefuldreamers-world @rebekahdawkins @randomesk-yuku

222 notes · View notes

hinamoria · 3 years

Text

Hitsuhina Week 2021 : Day 1

Hitsuhina Week 2021 : Day 1- Nickname / Hot and cold

Rating: K

Synopsis: Momo remembers the origin of her nickname: Bed wetter Momo

Word Count: 1801 words

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! My first participation at the Hitsuhina week is here. I hope you like it! I had fun writing it \(^.^)/

English isn’t my first language so excuse myself for any typos <3

----

“Shiro-chan!” Hinamori greeted cheerfully as she walked through the doors of the Tenth Division office. “We're going to eat yakitoris with Matsumoto-san and other lieutenants. Are you joining us? "

Hitsugaya, sitting at his desk, frowned at the famous nickname his childhood friend refused to forget, and declined the invitation.

"I have a lot of work to finish," he complained, putting an extra sheet of paper on the already tall pile of his desk. "Maybe next time," he added, afraid to upset his friend. "And Hinamori, for the umpteenth time, it's captain Hitsugaya."

"But Hitsugaya-kun, that nickname is perfect for you!" she replied, keeping her smile.

A perfect nickname from Hinamori's point of view. In harmony with the white and shiny hair like snow of her friend.

"Do you hear me calling you by your childhood nickname yet?” Sighed the captain.

Momo laughed lightly as she thought about it. "Bed Wetter Momo" was much less flattering than “Shiro chan”. Especially since it was referring to a single accident and therefore absolutely no more relevant today.

And yet, even though she wouldn’t like to be called that way again today, she still had a certain melancholy as she remembered the event where it’s from. Somehow, that night, Shiro-chan had for the first time given her a kind gesture.

It happened soon after arriving in Rukongai, when she was eight years old.

She still remembered the hustle and bustle, the lost people trying to get information about what was happening to them, and her in the middle desperately looking for her mom or her plush that she must have dropped something. It must be here. She remembered holding it during her last moments of life. So it couldn't be very far.

It was the end of her old life on Earth. Nowadays, it was just a vague memory. The faces of her biological family had gradually faded. She remembered that her mother had brown hair, often tied up in a bun. Momo may have subconsciously imitated her while growing up. But had she hazel eyes like her or were they a different color? She could no longer remember it.

A cholera epidemic had hit the country, killing thousands of people. Antibiotics did not exist at the time, so the chances of escaping it, especially for a child, were almost nil. Momo didn't end up in pain for long.

At the entrance to Rukongai, men and women dressed in black kimonos, whom she later knew as shinigamis, gave instructions to people around her. They were divided into groups. She was going to go to district number one, "Junrinan". She didn't know this place, but thought she heard the term "lucky" from a shinigami.

Looking back 100 years after, she understood how true it was. Especially after hearing Abarai-kun's stories.

Each person was taken to a different dwelling. Very little explanation was given. Sometimes locals sighed when they saw a new arrival, but others greeted them with a big smile. Her journey ended in front of a wooden house with a small earthen courtyard in front and two imposing shoji-style doors at the entrance.

A lady with gray hair tied in a bun opened the door and smiled at Momo.

"Is that the little new one?" She asked in a voice marked by time.

The shinigami nodded and left the area without another word. His behaviour may have seemed rude, but the little lady ignored it. Momo watched him go with slight fear, but returned her attention to the stranger who began to speak to him.

"Welcome my dear. What's your name? "

"Momo…" the child replied after a brief hesitation.

“Very well Momo. From today you will live here. Come home, I'll explain everything to you"

The lady held out her hand, which Momo took, and together they entered the girl's new home.

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

To say that the first few days in her new home were easy would have been a lie. Momo was missing her family. And she kept looking through the portal to see if her mother was going to cross the threshold and come to get her.

Her new grandmother was a sweet and warm woman. She gave Momo time to acclimatize without rushing her. She even offered her a small dog-shaped plush toy to replace her previous one. Momo appreciated the little attention and hugged the plush tightly against her at night.

However, living with Toshiro was more difficult. The little boy already had a strong character and did not seem delighted by the arrival of a new child in his home. He often spoke harshly to her, when he just wasn't ignoring her. Momo, luckily, didn't seem to take offense and came back to meet him all the more, determined to make him her new friend.

He didn't looked to be appreciated by the other children, who seemed afraid of his particular hair. Momo, on the other hand, was fascinated by their color and had repeatedly tried to touch them - usually receiving insults and yelling in return - which didn't stop her from doing it again a few days later. He reminded him of the old cat that resided in her neighbourhood on Earth. He had hissed on her each time she approached. But after a few months, he had accepted her affection. Toshiro would be the same, she could tell.

One night, about two weeks after her arrival, Momo had a terrible nightmare. The pain of her last moments on Earth came back to her. She heard her mom cry and pray, but she couldn't see her. She was terribly thirsty and hungry, but the nausea tugged at her so much that she couldn't take anything. It was the end. She felt death coming to seek her. When a new wave of pain pierced her body, Momo woke up abruptly, breathing heavy.

The pain was gone. But she still couldn't see anything. After a few seconds, a growl to her left signaled the presence of the white haired boy and reminded her where she was. Her grandmother must have been somewhere to her right. They used to stick their futons together and sleep three side by side.

She was safe, everything was fine.

Catching her breath, however, she noticed a new unusual detail. Her clothes looked wet.

She straightened up and inspected her bed with the palm of her hand. A stain of moisture permeated the futon, a small part of the blanket and the entire bottom of her kimono. She was taken aback for a few moments, then realized with dread that she had wet the bed!

It hadn't happened since she was three, how could she have done that now? She wondered ashamed.

Discreetly, she got out of the futon, holding her breath as she saw Toshiro move around in the futon right next to her. Luckily, he didn't seem to wake up.

Would Grandma be mad if she saw this? Was she going to be kicked out of the house? Who would want a messy child?

Trying to swallow back tears, Momo took the blanket and left the room discreetly.

With any luck, she would manage to hide her mistake and they would let her stay here.

First she needed clean clothes, then she would go and wash it all in the basin outside. As a final step, she would take care of the futon in the same way. And when asked tomorrow, she could pretend she spilled a glass of milk on the bed. If no one saw the stain, her excuse would be plausible.

After grabbing some new clothes, Momo went down the stairs of the house to go outside.

Luckily, the moon lit up the courtyard a little and allowed herself to orient without too much trouble. Momo found the basin and put the blanket in it. The cold water made the child shiver, who could now feel the tears running down her cheeks.

Looking back 100 years later, she realized how dumb she could have been to feel so bad for a trivial accident like this, but at this moment, the world was falling apart for her.

She changed, taking a little water to clean herself, then tossed the soiled clothes in the water as well. As she began to rub the whole thing vigorously, a voice startled her.

"What are you doing?” Toshiro surprised her from the doorway.

She turned in his direction, speechless. He kept his arms crossed against his chest, obviously waiting for an answer that took a particularly long time to arrive.

"I ..." stammered the little brunette. “I spilled a glass of milk?"

Her voice had risen in high pitch with a sobbing hiccup, making her assertion closer to questioning. Toshiro certainly wouldn't be fooled by the situation. He was young in appearance, but he was significantly older than her in age. And she realized her excuse was completely incoherent when said out loud.

But strangely, she heard neither reproach nor mockery from the boy who was looking at her seriously. On the contrary, his answer surprised her.

"I'm going to get your futon to have it cleaned too…" He said with a sigh.

And he disappeared for a good minute.

On his return, ditto, he remained silent. He helped her clean up and spread the ling. And when they returned to bed afterwards, he even gave her a bit of room in his own futon for Momo. The rest of the night ended without further accident.

The next day, she said with more confidence her story to her grandmother, who absolutely did not believe a word of it, but who accepted it nonetheless, afraid to embarrass her. When she went out to do some shopping, Momo turned to Toshiro who was finishing lunch.

"Thank you Hitsugaya-kun," Hinamori said in a small voice. "For keeping my secret."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied with his mouth full.

Then as he swallowed, he looked at the girl and let go with a smirk, "Bed Wetter Momo".

Momo froze in her seat upon hearing the new nickname.

"How did you call me?” She asked scandalized.

"You called me Shiro-chan a few days ago, remember? From today you will be "Bed wetter Momo" if you keep using that nickname ". He treated her, pretending to be interested in his bowl of rice. But the smirk he kept showing indicated the pride he felt right now in torturing her.

It was the start of a new friendship.

And he kept his word: he used that nickname for many years, and she kept on calling him Shiro-chan. It almost became a game between them.

And if today she was no longer "Bed wetter Momo", she treasured the memory of the first step Toshiro had taken towards her.

#hitsuhina week 2021 #hitsuhina #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #bleach fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

amanda-glassen · 3 years

Text

The Wonder Years: Part 8

While getting ready for her first school dance, twelve-year-old Olivia starts a path toward discovering who she is truly meant to be. Parts 1-7 can be found under the the tag #alex and liv: the wonder years

Thank you @ghostwritingcabenson @imaginaryoperagloves @cabensons @oliviaswifey and my lovely anon for all of your really sweet comments and tags.

Cover courtesy of my tumblr wifey @ghostwritingcabenson

Seeing the brightly colored frozen yogurt shop put Olivia at ease because it was the setting of some of her best childhood memories and now she was going to experience it with her girlfriend.

Olivia did as Jamie had done for her mom and opened the car door for Alex. That small act of chivalry earned a big smile and a ‘thank you’ from Alex, which made Olivia feel as if she had butterflies in her stomach.

“Babe, why don’t you take Alex inside?” Jamie suggested. “I want to stay out here and talk to Ollie.” Uh oh.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Serena gestured for Alex to follow her. “We can get first pick of the toppings.”

“Yeah!” Alex said excitedly. “I want chocolate chips and chocolate brownie bites.”

“Is everything okay?” Olivia asked, worried that Jamie had a suspicion that she and Alex were hiding something.

“Everything is fine,” Jamie responded. “This is a good talk, I promise.” She pulled a twenty dollar bill out of her wallet and handed it to Olivia.

“Cool! Twenty bucks!” Olivia folded the money and put it in her pocket. “Thanks, Jamie. I was saving up to buy a－”

“It’s not for you, kid,” Jamie interrupted. “It’s for you to treat Alex.”

Olivia tried to hide her disappointment. “But my mom always pays for frozen yogurt.”

Jamie made a failed attempt at stifling her laughter. “Think about it, kid. What’ll score you more points, you paying for her frozen yogurt or your mom paying?”

“Me, I guess,” Olivia groaned. “There goes my new bat.”

Jamie shook her head and wrapped her arm around Olivia to guide her toward the entrance. “I have so much to teach you, Ollie.”

Alex and Serena were already choosing their toppings when Olivia and Jamie entered the frozen yogurt shop. Olivia noticed that her mom had gotten their usual and she was eager to get the same－chocolate flavored frozen yogurt with Oreo crumbles, gummy worms and Fruity Pebbles－a tradition in the Benson household that they had named Dirt and Worms.

“Mom, I’ll pay for me and Alex,” Olivia told her once all four cups of frozen yogurt were on the counter and ready to be weighed.

Serena took her debit card out of a pink and white polka dot Kate Spade wallet. “It’s okay, baby, I’ll get it. Save your money for that bat you’ve been wanting.” Olivia noticed her mom and Jamie exchange glances and she hoped Jamie could read her mind because she no longer had the slightest idea what to do. “On second thought, it’s probably not cool for your mom to pay for you on your first date.”

“I got this,” Olivia tried to say as smoothly as she could while she pulled out her twenty dollar bill and placed it on the counter.

“And I’m getting yours,” Jamie told Serena. “You already paid for dinner. We’re supposed to be in an equal partnership here.” After Alex and Olivia’s cups of frozen yogurt were paid for, Jamie inserted her card to pay for hers and Serena’s.

“I paid for us to eat at Hot Dog On A Stick, not some expensive restaurant,” Serena reminded her. “That’s all we had time for after Barnes & Noble and GameStop.”

Jamie picked up their frozen yogurt cups and carried them over to the table. Olivia figured she should do the same for Alex until she saw Alex already eating brownie bites from her frozen yogurt. Better not take that away from her. “I learned an important lesson today, Ser. If I value my life, I will never attempt to take one of your fries. Is it the same with frozen yogurt?”

Serena scrunched her nose. “Yours is vanilla with strawberries, blueberries, and bananas. No wonder you want to steal some of mine.”

Within seconds of sitting down at the table, Olivia’s phone started to vibrate. It was a text from Elliot confirming he'd be at their secret meeting, but Olivia didn't want to risk her mom seeing a message from her dad come through so she decided to put her phone in her pocket.

"What's this big science project about?" Serena asked them. "I've never seen an assignment have that effect on Olivia."

Olivia was in the middle of chewing a gummy worm, so she was grateful when her quick thinking girlfriend decided to answer. "It's the end of the year project which is worth 25% of our grade. Mrs. Rodriguez is supposed to give us more details on Monday, but my brother had her class three years ago and he said she lets her students pick the topic. Sometimes that's harder because the possibilities are endless. She also doesn't like us to pick partners because someone could get their feelings hurt if they aren't picked, so she puts us in alphabetical order. If she does that, it's fine because I'll get to work with Olivia. Alphabetically there's no one in between us. We should start brainstorming, Olivia."

The last thing Olivia wanted was to think about a science project that wasn't due for another month, but her girlfriend’s enthusiasm was contagious and the project was the only thing keeping her mom from asking questions about what was actually on her mind.

Olivia felt her phone vibrate again, except this time it wasn’t a text from Elliot or any of her other friends. It was another message from her dad that read, “Hey Sport. Wanna get some pizza tomorrow?”

“Who’s that, baby?” her mom asked her.

“Just Elliot,” Olivia said nonchalantly. “He’s asking if I’m still coming over tomorrow to watch the game. I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Olivia was grateful that the bathroom was a single stall so nobody could follow her in there. She pulled out her phone from her back pocket immediately after locking the door behind her and started to respond to her dad. “Yeah can we go to Another One Bites the Crust? That’s my favorite. I can meet you there at 1.”

She waited two minutes before another response came through. “Daddy/daughter day tomorrow at 1. They have those rotating basketball hoops outside. Bring your A-game.”

When she returned to their table, a feeling of guilt hit her hard and suddenly. She occasionally hid things from her mom like when she didn’t tell her she had a girlfriend, but this was the first time she had actually lied to her. It was the worst she had ever felt in her entire life and she knew that lie was only the first of many that she’d tell her mom that weekend.

Serena asked Alex about her siblings and Olivia heard Alex talk about her older brother who was fifteen and nice to her and her younger brother who was almost nine and kind of annoying. Olivia loved to hear Alex talk about her home life and her friends and her favorite movies and TV shows, but that night her mind was on her dad and how much fun the two of them were going to have the next day eating pizza and playing basketball.

“Do you have any brothers and sisters?” Alex asked Serena.

With Serena distracted by Alex’s question, Jamie took it upon herself to attempt to steal a gummy worm, but her attempt was soon thwarted by Serena gently smacking her hand. “Hey! Nope. Hands off my worms. If you wanted gummy worms, you should have added some to your frozen yogurt.”

Olivia handed Jamie a couple of her own gummy worms. “Here, Jamie. You can have some of mine. I have a whole bunch.”

Jamie took the worms and held them up to show Serena. “Unlike you, your kid actually shares.”

“What can I say?” Serena smirked. “My kid is better than me. That means I’ve succeeded as a mom.” She held Jamie’s hand on top of the table before turning to Alex. “Sorry, Alex, before we were so rudely interrupted by my gummy worm thief, I was going to tell you that my brother Kyle is two years younger than me and my sister Lexie is one year younger than me. The three of us are really close, like best friends. Kyle and I live in the same building, but Lexie moved back to California after college. She lives in Santa Monica now.”

“Lexie Benson is your sister?” Alex asked, wide eyed and completely in disbelief. “Lexie Benson, the YouTuber? I’ve seen every single one of the videos on her YouTube channel! She does these really funny videos where viewers can request what era or theme they want and she does these in-character spoofs about－” Alex started to blush. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. She’s your sister so you know all about her channel and her videos. Wait, I think I’ve even seen you in some of them!”

“Yeah, she’ll force me every time I go out to Santa Monica,” Serena smiled at her. “And don’t apologize for getting excited over something. I’ll tell Lexie about you next time I talk to her.”

“Babe, your phone,” Jamie told her as she looked down at Serena’s phone and noticed an incoming video call.

“It’s my mom,” Serena groaned. “If I don’t answer, she’s going to keep calling.” She swiped across the screen to answer. “Hi, Mom. I’m out right now with Olivia, do you mind if I－”

“Where’s my grandbaby?” Mrs. Benson interrupted her. “I want to talk to her.”

Serena handed the phone to Olivia. “Hi, Grandma!” Olivia said excitedly. “Wanna see my girlfriend Alex? She’s having frozen yogurt with me. Me and her went on our first date tonight.”

“Hi, Mrs. Benson,” Alex said after scooting closer to Olivia. “Pleased to meet you.”

“You’re adorable!” Mrs. Benson responded. “And so well mannered. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alex. So, tell me, how is my grandbaby on a date? Does she hold open the door and pull out your chair?”

“She’s a perfect gentleman and she’s so cute and sweet and she got me a rose and frozen yogurt tonight,” Alex beamed. “I like Olivia so much.”

Olivia felt butterflies in her stomach and she wanted nothing more than to kiss Alex if they were alone. “Doesn’t Alex look like a princess?” Olivia asked.

“She looks like Princess Grace,” Mrs. Benson told her granddaughter. “She could be a classic Hollywood starlet. And you look so handsome and grown up, my darling grandbaby.”

“Jamie cut my hair,” Olivia said excitedly.

“Jamie,” Mrs. Benson said in a teasing tone of voice, hoping Serena would hear. “Tall, dark, and handsome, herself, the one woman I would consider switching teams for.”

“Mom,” Serena groaned and Olivia couldn’t help but laugh when her mom put her head down on the table in embarrassment.

Olivia handed the phone over to Jamie. “Hi, Melanie. You’re looking beautiful as always. Where are you? I can see the sunset behind you. Are you on vacation?”

“Oh, no, I’m just on our rooftop,” Mrs. Benson said nonchalantly. “Didn’t my daughter tell you about the beach house in Malibu?”

Serena took the phone from Jamie. “I have to go now, Mom. Alex has to get home soon.”

“Not so fast,” Mrs. Benson told her. “Since you neglected to tell me when your spring break was, I looked it up on Columbia’s website and saw that it’s the week after next. I’m booking your flight to LAX. You can bring Jamie so I can finally meet her in person and my grandbaby can bring her little girlfriend and before you object and say you had something planned for my grandbaby, I will save you the effort and say nothing you can plan in that gloomy state you insist on living in is as much fun as the kids will have at the beach and at Disneyland.”

“Disneyland!” Alex said excitedly. “I’ll ask my mom if I can go as soon as I get home.”

Olivia’s dream of riding the teacups together and buying Alex a pair of sparkly Minnie Mouse ears could finally come true. “Please, Mom. Please can we go? I’ll do anything.”

“Don’t be the bad guy, Serena,” Mrs. Benson told her daughter. “I can hear how happy the kids are.”

“It’s 9:45 over here, Mom,” Serena said in a frustrated tone of voice. “I have to hang up now so we can take Alex home. Bye, Mom. I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Serena set her phone on the table and then turned to face Jamie. “One thing I hate about smartphones is that you can’t angrily close them when you wanna hang up on someone. Nothing gave me more satisfaction as a teenager than hanging up on my mom with my pink bedazzled Motorola Razr phone whenever she nagged me about something like she is right now. She completely undermines my parenting every chance she gets. What if I had something planned for Ollie?”

“At least you knew how to use that phone because, apparently, you can’t use this one,” they heard Mrs. Benson say. “I’m still on the line, Serena. I’m booking your flight and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Olivia looked across the table at her flustered mom and at Jamie who was trying to contain her laughter. The short interaction with her grandma had made all of her negative feelings go away. Tomorrow, she’d spend the afternoon with her dad and, as long as they could convince Mr. and Mrs. Cabot, she’d soon be at Disneyland with the love of her twelve-year-old life.

#cabenson #baby cabenson #alex and liv: the wonder years #serena benson #law and order svu

15 notes · View notes

platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

April Showers

Harringrove April Prompt 02: April Showers! Max drags Steve back to the Byers' after the fight, to make sure Billy didn't die on the Byers' floor, and they get some things talked out. LAST PROMPT, GUYS! I'M DONE! 30 days! XD

It was something Susan had always said—April showers bring May flowers. She said it when they visited Max’s grandma, and Max’s bigger, stronger cousins dogpiled her and ripped her hair out in chunks. They apologized—insincerely, and Max accepted just as insincerely, already planning her revenge—and Max’s mom hugged her tightly, shaking with relief, and said “See? You have to be patient, Max. Sometimes things can be tough, but—”

“Then you shower vengeance upon them,” Max gritted out, narrowing her eyes at the beefiest cousin, because if she couldn’t be the strongest, she could definitely be the craziest.

“Maxine,” Susan groaned.

Susan said it when her own mother looked at the dinner Susan had made, and said “...well, I suppose you did your best, dear.”

“The hell does that mean,” Max asked, slamming her hand on the table, and she got sent to her room.

“It’s fine,” Susan said later, wringing her hands. “The garlic bread was a little burned, and I’m not sure those tomatoes were ripe—”

“She can eat dog food next time you make the whole goddamn dinner,” Max told her, crossing her arms, and Susan smothered a laugh.

“Come on,” she said softly. “Sometimes being in a family means you have to weather a few storms. Don’t be mean to your grandma. She loves you.”

“Does she?” Max asked flatly, and Susan reminded her of the awful Precious Moments figurines she’d gotten for Christmas. “If those are my May flowers, they were not worth the crap,” Max told her, and Susan flinched.

Susan said it again, shakily, when Neil brought her actual flowers, the day after he hit Billy into her newly-planted flower beds. Billy had stormed in, leaving muddy footprints all down the hall, and at dinner his shoulder and jaw were scraped up from the metal thing Susan had put in to keep the grass from growing into her bulbs.

“Maybe you should be nice to him tomorrow,” Max heard her mother whispering to Neil, later. “Take him somewhere.”

“Maybe to the dog pound,” Neil said, laughing, and Susan winced.

“That ‘April showers’ thing is talking about actual rain, Mom,” Max said later, and “What the hell kind of flowers could even be worth this,” and “I don’t think Neil’s showers are the kind flowers survive, Mom, he’s more like the kind that causes landslides, and floods the garage.”

Susan hunched her shoulders a little, and lowered her eyes, the way she always did when somebody was mad, so Max stalked back to her room. Billy was sprawled on her floor, reading her Beverly Cleary books.

Billy hid in Max’s room a lot that summer, because Neil didn’t think to look for him there. He’d knock and immediately slide through her door, or run around and stand under her window with a bribe—some cookies, or a cold bottle of soda, or the next issue of The Amazing Spider-Man.

He’d been fun, then, twitchy and awkward, but he’d burst into giggles when she commented on her mom and his dad. They snuck out and went skateboarding, even, and ate cheetos as they read Billy’s comics, kicking their legs in the air—until Neil threw the door open one day, and drug Billy out by the upper arm.

Max didn’t know what he’d said to her mom, but Billy wasn’t allowed in her room anymore. She couldn’t even shut the door before Neil or her mom would throw it open, and she was half tempted to just be naked the next time, and see how they liked that.

Billy looked away from her, after that summer. When she finally grabbed him--two months in to the silent treatment--he snarled, watching behind her, and twisted away. She tried to follow him into his room, but he called her a bitch, and slammed the door right in her face, almost on her hand.

The night after she drugged Billy with the syringe for Will, she grabbed Steve Harrington, and hauled him back to the Byers’.

“You want a ride back to your car, right,” she’d hissed at him, and Steve blinked blearily at her, staggering a little.

“...I guess,” he mumbled, as she shoved him in the passenger seat.

Billy was lying a little more curled up than he had been, and she ran around to get a look at him, then sat down almost against her will once she could see him glowering hazily at her feet. “Billy,” she whispered, sighing, and leaning back on one arm to rub her face. She was so tired her arms shook, the adrenaline finally starting to clear her system from fighting the monsters of Hawkins.

Steve lingered by the door, frowning down at them, and Max squinted at him, half wondering whether she should try and get her absolutely loaded brother in the car by herself, or whether she should try and bribe Steve into helping, somehow. Or blackmail him.

There were some things Mike had seen that might come in handy, she thought, considering. “I know about the time you got dumped by two girls on the same night,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“...what,” said Steve, who was pressing gently at his skull, where Billy’s knuckles had hit.

“I’ll tell the next person you date,” Max said, setting her jaw, and trying to look like she could kill him with a shoelace.

“...what’s happening?” Steve asked, frowning at her. “...what?”

Just then, Max realized she was so tired she’d threatened him without telling him what she wanted, yet. “You gotta help me get this dumbass in the car,” she said, sighing. “Or—or I’ll tell everybody I know you, um, you wet the bed.”

“...what,” Steve said again, and Max tried to be patient, since she’d seen how many times he’d been hit in the heat that night.

“...Max,” Billy mumbled. “Fucking...bitch.” He kind of half-rolled onto his back again, rolling his face away from her, and she slid a foot out and kicked his hand.

“Shut up, you,” she growled. “I come running back here to see if you got your face eaten—”

“Whadda you care,” he whispered, laughing. “You dun give a shit. You wanted...brother like him,” Billy said, watching Steve, and Steve snorted a laugh. “How come you’re never on my side,” Billy whispered, and Max kicked his limp hand again, sort of, her legs limp with exhaustion.

“Wow,” Steve sighed.

“Fuck you, the hell are you talking about,” Max hissed. “You tried to kill him.”

“You knew,” Billy mumbled. “Fucking...knew I’d get my ass kicked. An’ you left the house,” he said, sighing, and trying to roll away, but he couldn’t even shift his body that much. His hands twitched, and he groaned, closing his eyes.

“...I’ll help you get him in the car,” Steve said, and Billy sneered, laughing.

“Oh, ’s so nice, isn’ he? Fucking...King Harrington.”

“You’re a piece of work, man,” Steve said, grimacing, but he helped her get Billy’s dead weight off Joyce Byers’ floor and down the steps to the cars. “Want me to drive him home? You get pulled over driving with him in the car…”

Max and Billy flinched at that. “Fuck,” Billy panted, his face getting red and veiny as his head and arms dangled over Harrington’s back.

“Oh, oh shit,” Max said, realizing she could hardly drive Billy home to a waiting Neil, when he was acting like he’d been doing drugs. “We can’t take him home. We can’t. His dad’ll end him.”

“Like you give a shit,” Billy muttered.

“Jesus. Let’s, um,” Steve thought, walking over to his car. “You’re not bringing this jackass to my house, so don’t even—”

For a brief second, Max was so strongly homesick for the skatepark by their house in California she had to shut her eyes, imagining taking Billy somewhere she knew to sober up, somewhere with people who had nothing going on but a few skateboard tricks. She groaned into her hands.

“Whoa, whoa,” Steve said, shifting Billy, who grunted. “Look, wait, there’s—we’ll take him to the playground, okay. When he’s sobered up some, he can drive you home.”

“What,” Max said, blinking as she imagined Billy going down slides.

“Just somewhere to sit that’s not Mrs. Byers’ floor,” Steve said, grimacing.

“...why’re you doing this,” Billy asked, possibly to both of them, and Steve groaned.

“No fucking clue.”

“Why’re you such a fucking asshole dipshit?” Max asked, rhetorically.

“Why d’you hate me so much,” Billy asked, as Steve struggled to hold him up and get the car door open, muttering, “Oh, I can think of a few reasons.”

“I don’t hate you!” Max shouted. “I don’t! Why the hell did you—why’d you try to beat up my friends—what the hell is wrong with you!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Billy growled back, but he sounded tired. “You’ve fucking...had it in for me for years. Little...bitch. Fuck...fuckface.”

“Shut up, dickhead,” Steve sighed, levering Billy into the passenger seat of his car. He slammed the door, and patted Max’s shoulder. “Follow me, I’ll take you to the playground.”

She nodded, glaring at Billy through the window, and wondering what the hell.

By the time she pulled up to the playground, craning to see in the low seat of the Camaro, Steve was hauling Billy back out of the car. “Let’s get you on the swing,” he was saying. “Get your feet moving a little, maybe.”

“Oh look, she’s here,” Billy said, baring his teeth. “Don’t you wanna take me home, Maxine? Tell my dad about something I actually did, for once.”

“The hell are you even talking about?” Steve sighed, rolling his eyes at Max, but Billy was glaring at her, his eyes still red and swollen from the mess he was, fighting Steve.

“You’ll find out,” Billy laughed. “Once she’s pissed and she tells everybody you touched her. Fuck you, Maxine Mayfield,” he hissed at her, his jaw working, and Steve stopped, staring from Billy’s drooping head to Max’s face.

“Wait, what,” he breathed, leaning warily away from Billy, as Max’s mouth dropped open in fury.

“I never said that shit, what the hell,” she growled. “I don’t lie. I’m not a liar.”

“I never did,” Billy yelled back at her, staggering as Steve held on to him. “I never—I never would’ve—I thought we were friends, you little shithead, you fucking—”

“I never said you did!” she yelled back, automatically, then remembered Neil dragging Billy out of her room. Her mom had stopped being nice to Billy, after that, she realized—she’d noticed, but she hadn’t thought about when. “...Billy, I never said that,” she whispered, watching his set face. “I didn’t, I—I never would have said that.”

“You told him,” Billy shot back, growling and waving an arm at her, so Steve nearly dropped him. Steve muttered profanity to himself as he hauled Billy along into the playground, and a few more feet, to the swings. “You coulda said one goddamn thing to me, I thought you were okay with me coming around, I—you fucking told him I was scary, you—you know how he was kicking my ass—he fucking...” Billy bit his lips together, breathing unsteadily. “Why the fuck would you tell him something like that—”

“I never did!” she shouted over him. “I never...I missed you too, you fucking asshole, I thought...I don’t know what I thought,” she trailed off with a sigh, realizing Billy was glaring at her even harder.

“...you didn’t tell my dad...to make me fuck off?” Billy said slowly.

“I missed you,” Max told him, sitting on the next swing, while Steve stood behind Billy, balancing him so he didn’t faceplant in the gravel. “Dunno why, but I did.”

“...he said I scared you,” Billy breathed. “You didn’t want to be in the same house with me—”

“I never fucking said that,” Max growled, spinning on the swing to kick his leg. “You moron, why would you…” she let her sentence trail off as she looked at him, and he was wiping his face, and sniffling. “...the hell would you think I’d lie to get you to stay away?” she asked, her own face reddening as Billy pressed his fist over his mouth to muffle his wet sniffles. Max’s own eyes stung and blurred. “Didn’t want you going anywhere, dickhead,” she whispered hoarsely, “—you had the back-issues of X-Men.”

“Holy shit,” Billy laughed like he hadn’t since they were kids, looking at her sidelong. “Thought you wanted me dead.”

“...’m sorry I had to sneak out,” she muttered. “I wasn’t trying to get you in trouble.”

“Fuck,” Billy breathed, “—I went nuts at the Byers’.”

“You went batshit fucking insane,” Max said dryly, and Billy hunched his shoulders, glancing back over his shoulder.

Harrington stepped back, one hand out to catch him. Billy clenched his hands on the chains for the swing. “I got it,” he muttered. “I won’t fall.”

Harrington nodded, and dropped into the swing on the other side of Billy. “Nice little family therapy session,” he said dryly, and Max winced with Billy, remembering how Steve’s head must be pounding, and how he’d slurred his words, stumbling around because of Billy’s fists.

“Sorry,” Billy grated out, and Steve snorted a laugh.

Max started explaining why she had to sneak out, stumbling over herself in her urgency, and Steve backed her up, just swaying on the swing tiredly, and kicking at the gravel.

“Fuck,” Billy started saying, as Steve described what had happened at the Byers’ the year before, and Max talked over him about the junkyard, and Billy’s eyes widened. “Fuck,” he said again, “...shit, you...saved her,” he mumbled, like his brain was stuck. “Holy shit.”

It was getting cold, late at night in the playground, but Max didn’t want to leave, so she just watched Steve spin around the seat of his swing, slowly tightening and tightening the twisted chains until he let go in a whirl. “Fuck. Sorry,” Billy kept saying, wiping his eyes.

For the first time, Max kind of...understood, what her mother meant, about the awful weather in April before flowers in May, because it wasn’t like Neil’s fucking raincloud was worthwhile, suddenly, but Billy was smirking at her again like a weight was off his shoulders. He was kicking at the gravel just like Steve, two little kids, and he grinned whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.

It was good to watch him bloom.

Here are my other Harringrove April prompts--DONE!

#Harringrove #Harringrove April #Susan has a shitty past too #She tries to teach Max it's normal #Max isn't having it #Max and Billy friendship

17 notes · View notes

babygurlkamya · 3 years

Text

Can’t Get You Out Of My Head Part 4

Warning: Swearing and My love for Harry Styles

Word count: 2822

Here’s my Masterlist!!

——————𖠄———————

The Next Morning Anastasia woke up and noticed that Julie wasn’t in her room. She could faintly hear Julie singing in the studio and that brought a smile to her face. After getting dressed In her cheer uniform and finding something to eat in Julie's kitchen she heads down the stone steps to Julie's studio. She slowed her steps after hearing Alex, Luke, and Reggie talking.

“Sup, boys. Whatcha talking about?” Anastasia said, causing the three boys to jump. “For ghosts, you guys get scared easily.”

“Good morning, Asia.” Said Reggie smiling and waving at her.

“Good morning, Reggie. Why do you guys look so stunned?” Anastasia asked.

“We— We’re not stunned?” Luke said, trying to play it off.

“Julie was playing the piano and singing the song her mom wrote for her.” Said Alex.

“I thought I heard her voice.” Said Asia excitedly. “Do you know how exciting this is! She hasn’t sung a note in a whole year.”

“But why’d she lie about not able to play,” Luke asked.

“You have to understand that it was extremely difficult when she lost her mom. Music is what connected me, Julie, and her mom. When she passed she didn’t want to play music anymore.” Anastasia turned around after hearing footsteps.

“Flynn! Wait, why are you crying?”

Flynn sniffed. “I just can’t believe Julie no longer in the music program.”

“I know. If you want to talk to her she’s in the studio.” Anastasia motioned to the studio.

“Alright, I’m gonna try to convince her to try to get back in the program.”

“You go do that. I’ll stay here.” She looked over the boys who were in a conversation.

“But we can listen.” Said Reggie. The boys went over to the door to listen to the conversation.

“Listening to girls' conversations is not cool. Did you guys do that back in the day too?” Asked Asia.

“Shhh.” Said Luke.

“I swear if you weren’t a ghost I would’ve kicked your ass by now,” Asia mumbled, crossing her arms.

A couple of minutes later Julie and Flynn walked out of the studio. Anastasia was sitting down with Reggie trying to act natural like the rest of the boys.

“There’s the other member of Triple Threat.” Said Flynn helping Asia get up.

“You know I never agreed to that name.” Said Anastasia rolling her eyes.

“Oh I know, but I don’t care. Plus I brought those shirts and it’s way too late to get a refund.” Said Flynn grabbing Anastasia's arm to link up with her.

“Oh, hey!” Julie said to the boys.

Asia and Flynn turned around to look at Julie. Asia knew she was speaking to the boys but Flynn couldn’t see them. Flynn gave Julie a weird look.

“Let’s hustle!” Yelled Julie turning Flynn back around motioning her to move. Julie turned back around and waved at them. Which is another mistake because Flynn turned back around to look at her.

“Julie, you okay?”

“Flynn, she’s fine. I bet she's just nervous.”

“Don’t worry, we weren’t listening.” Yelled Reggie.

Luke has immediately kicked him. Reggie has made a loud noise that caused the girls to look at each other trying not to laugh. A car horn could be heard. Julie tried to play off another wave to the boys.

“Ladies, if we don’t leave my mom will leave us here.” Said Anastasia

“Nooo, I don’t want to walk to school.” Yelled Flynn. Flynn pushed past the two girls and ran to the car. Julie ran behind her. Anastasia gave the guys a wave before running off.

——————𖠄———————

“Believe me, Julie, I think it’s wonderful that you sang again.” Ms. Harrison admitted after the girls explained what happened. “I prayed for this moment for almost a year. But it’s too late.”

“What if you hear her play?” Anastasia questioned.

“We all know she’s amazing.” Added Flynn.

“It wouldn't matter. A new student starts tomorrow.” Ms. Harrison sighed at the disappointed looks on the girls’ faces. “There’s only—-“

“So many spots.” Julie finished. “And if I don’t participate, I’m out. I know.”

Ms. Harrison stepped towards the girls. “I did everything I could to keep you here this year, but Principal Lessa was very clear that yesterday was your last chance. You’ll have to reapply next semester.” The bell rang signaling the start of class. “I’m truly sorry.”

The girls sighed. Flynn and Anastasia threw their arms around Julie as they walked out of the music room.

——————𖠄———————

“MOM!! I’m home!” Anastasia yelled as she closed the door after having an unscheduled class, meaning she could go home. Anastasia walking in the kitchen noticed a message on the refrigerator. “Went grocery shopping with grandma. We’ll be back in a couple of hours. Love Mom and Grandma.”

“Well, at least I can play music without being interrupted.” Anastasia runs up to her room to grab her speaker and runs back into the kitchen with it in her hand. After she sets its up. She plays “Adore you by Harry Styles” while she figures out what to eat.

Your wonder under summer skies

Brown skin and lemon over ice

Would you believe it?

Anastasia heads back over to the refrigerator as she starts to sing the lyrics pulling out certain ingredients.

You don't have to say you love me

I just wanna tell you something

Lately, you've been on my mind

She starts to dance around the kitchen pulling out certain items put her ingredients in.

Honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

Oh, honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

Anastasia gets too caught up in singing and dancing around the kitchen to hear a poofing sound.

Oh, honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

As Anastasia finishes the song she notices that someone has been watching her. Anastasia jumps as she gets scared.

“Holy Shit, Luke! How long have you been watching me!” Yelled Anastasia holding her chest.

Luke walks up to her. “Long enough. I thought it was cute and you also have an amazing singing voice.

“Thanks.” She mumbled.

“Did I make you that nervous? I’m sorry, Anastasia.”

“I— I... Just a little confused and worried. Are the guys here?” Anastasia scratches her head trying to avoid eye contact.

Luke hops on the counter table. “Nope. Just me.”

“I’m shocked I thought you guys were three peas in a pod. Are you too old to understand that?”

“Very funny, but back to what I was saying. You have a very beautiful voice. I understand why Julie is hiding her. Why are you?”

“I have my reasons. Wait! How did you know where I lived.” Anastasia went back to cooking.

Luke scratches the back of his head. “I..I- I... I may have followed you home.”

“Luke!” Anastasia tried to hit him but her hand went right through him.

“I’m a ghost, remember. You can’t hit me.”

“I’ll get Alex to you for me.” Anastasia grabbed a pan out of the cabinets then grabbed the oil.

“Alex won’t do it.”

“I’ll try!” Luke chuckled at Anastasia's comment.

“I have a question, Luke.” Said Anastasia looked up at Luke after turning the stove on

“You’ve had a lot of questions today so go ahead.”

“What killed you guys?”

“We ate some pretty bad hot dogs” Anastasia started to cook on the stove but soon pause after hearing what Luke said.

“Hotdogs!” Anastasia started to laugh. “You have to be joking. There’s no way that’s possible. Please tell me this is a joke.”

Luke shook his head no. “I’m not joking. We ate some pretty bad hotdogs. We just thought it was a new flavor.” Anastasia finished cooking and turned off the stove and started to clean up.

“So are you three scared of hotdogs now?”

“Probably, Alex. I have no idea about Reggie.” Luke shrugged.

“What about you?” Anastasia grabbed a plate to place her food.

“Maybe, I mean we can’t eat so it’s not much of a problem.

“So if I put a hotdog in front of your face you wouldn’t run away screaming?”

“Don’t try it. That would ruin my reputation.”

Anastasia giggles looking at Luke shaking her head. “You're dead! What reputation, the only reputation you have is eating bad hotdogs.”

“Ari!” Anastasia knew who that voice belonged to.

“Get off the table,” Anastasia mumbled.

“You know she can’t see me.”

“Still.” Luke looked at her for a minute then hopped off the counter.

“Yes, Ma. Also, why are you calling me back my middle name?”

“Cause, I can. Come help with the groceries.”

“Yes, ma’am” It only took her a couple of trips to the car and back into the house to get the groceries in the house. She grabbed her food and speaker and headed up to her room. She noticed Luke laying on her bed. She closed her door before she started to speak to the ghost in the room.

“Why are you laying on my bed.”

“It looked comfy.”

“Don’t you have to check on the guys?”

“They can wait. I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you too.” She said before taking a bite out of her food.

“Hey, what’s in that book.” Luke had pointed to the book that was laying on her desk.

“Don’t touch that, please.”

“Why?”

“It’s personal. Please, don’t touch it, Luke.”

Anastasia’s mom had knocked on the door. “Hey, Anastasia. Do you want to go over to Julie’s for a couple of hours?

“Sure, let me get changed.”

“Alright, let me know when you're ready.”

“I’ll see you at Julie.” Said Luke gaining Anastasia’s attention back to him.

“See you there.” Luke jumped and poofed back to Julie’s.

——————𖠄———————

Anastasia had made it just in time Julie was just reaching her door.

“Julie!”

“Asia? What are you doing here? Julie said as she opened the door to her house.

“My mom said I could come over if I wanted to. So here I am.” Anastasia said walking into Julie’s house

“Sometimes I question your sanity.”

“Ouch, I’m hurt.” Anastasia giggles as she and Julie heading up to her room. Julie laughs along with her. When they reached Julie’s room they didn’t expect to see Alex, Reggie, and Luke looking around Julie’s room. Anastasia and Julie both stopped in their tracks.

“What are you guys doing in my room?” Julie asked.

All of them turned to look at the two girls trying to form an answer.

“We were looking for the kitchen?” Luke tried.

“Luke, you were just at my house. You know where a kitchen is.” Anastasia said.

“This... this can’t happen. It’s creepy. Julie pointed at Reggie. “Get off my bed, please.”

Reggie obeyed and hopped off her bed.

Luke raised his hand as he was standing on a stool to look at her shelves. “Hey, Julie? What’s in the box?”

“That’s off-limits,” Julie answered.

“Oh. Oh, okay.” Luke chuckled. “Girl stuff.”

“Oh, like butterflies and glitter?” Reggie guessed.

“Is that all you know about girls?” Anastasia questioned looking at Reggie.

“Oh come on,” said Alex. “I’m sorry about them.”

“It’s none of your business.” Julie crossed her arms.

“I don’t even know what is in there,” said Anastasia. Julie pointed at Anastasia nodding.

“And yes, there might be some glitter.”

Alex then picked up a picture frame of Julie and her mom and turned around. “Hey, I actually picked something up! It then fell through his hands and landed on Julie’s bed. “I dropped it.”

“Is that your mom?” Luke questioned while looking down at the frame.

“Yes, and it’s my favorite picture of us, so if you break it, I’ll break you,” Julie warned, snatching the frame back and placing it on the table next to her bed.

“Okay, well, sorry, because we're kind of unbreakable at this point,” Alex argued.

“I don’t get it,” Julie admitted. “You guys can mess up our beds, pick up your instruments, but you can’t pick up other stuff?”

“I know right?” Luke agreed. “It’s hard. But for some reason, our instruments, easy.”

“Yeah, like super easy.” Reggie suddenly stood up from sitting on the beanbag at the edge of Julie’s bed. “Oh, and check out what I learned today.”

His bass suddenly appeared out of the air. However, it landed against his chest causing him to fall backward onto the beanbag.

Anastasia chucked. “Yeah, that looked super easy.”

“But it’s like I always thought, our instruments are connected to our souls,” Luke commented.

“Hey,” a voice suddenly greeted them.”

Reggie immediately rolled backward landing on his feet next to Alex. Alex's left-hand hits Luke's chest and Luke holds it before letting go. (I ship this so much!) Anastasia and Julie turned to see Ray standing in the doorway.

“Everything okay?” Ray Asked.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Julie answered.

“Okay. I thought I heard you two talking to other people.”

“Nope.” Julie gestured to her laptop that was sitting on top of a truck. “Must’ve been my laptop...that I just closed.”

Ray lightly chuckled. “Okay. If you two need anything...” He pointed to her door.

“Yeah, thanks,” Julie said.

Ray shut the door behind him. Anastasia and Julie turned back to the boys.

“Your dad seems like the kind of guy who likes to barbecue,” Reggie said. “I bet he has a great ribs recipe.”

“Ooo, my grandma has an amazing ribs recipe. “ Anastasia inputted.

“I don’t know, but if you guys wanna talk to me we have to do it in the studio,” Julie announced. “He’s worried about me enough as it is.”

“What if we want to talk to Anastasia?” Asked Reggie.

“My house or the studio,” Anastasia answered.

“Anyways, He seems chill. You should just tell him about us.” Luke suggested.

“Your kidding right?” Julie said as Luke's smile on his face faded away. “This past year, everyone’s been watching over me, being super nice, as if they’re waiting for me to snap. If I tell me, dad I met a ghost band, I’ll be back to talking to Doctor Turner three times a week.”

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t tell him.” Luke then looked back up at the box and stepped on the stool. “Julie....”

“Oh my gosh, I thought I told you to leave that alone!”

“I know. You should’ve said nothing, ‘cause now I can’t stop thinking about it and I can’t ask Anastasia. So.. what’s in the box, Julie?”

Julie sighed, finally caving in. “It’s just my dream box, okay? Whenever I get a thought or something I write it down and get it out of my mind.”

“Like lyrics?” Luke asked.

“They would be if I still wrote music like I used to with my mom. Now it’s just full of stuff that doesn’t make me sad.”

Alex stood up from sitting by Julie's window. “But, I mean, you do play. We heard you this morning.”

“Oh no.” Mumbled Anastasia.

Julie's eyes widened. “In the garage.”

Luke got down from his stool and slapped Alex on the arm.

“So you were there, too?”

They all tried to stammer out a response. Luke then laid on his stomach on Julie’s bed, placing his cheek in the palm of his hand. He stared up at the two girls with big green eyes. Anastasia felt her heart flutter at the slight.

“So, where is your kitchen, by the way?” Luke asked.

Julie got down to his eyes level. “Okay, we need to set some boundaries. For starters, stay out of my room!”

All of them immediately left Julie’s room. Reggie had slung his bass over his shoulder and strummed a tune while walking out of the room.

Alex then poked his head back in. “Hey, Um, sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. Did you get back into your music program?”

“No,” Julie responded. “No, I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

“Thanks.”

The three of them were left in uncomfortable silence as Alex wouldn’t leave the room. Anastasia was looking around the room along with Julie.

“Do you need anything else, Alex?” Anastasia questioned.

“Oh, Yeah. Reggie and I were wondering when you were going to sing for us since Luke told us you could sing. You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to..but if you want...I mean..I-“

Anastasia chuckled as Alex tried to form a sentence. “Technically, I didn’t know Luke was there but I’ll sing for guys soon. I promise.”

Alex nodded with a smile. His head had finally left the room. Anastasia had jumped on Julie’s bed, staring at the ceiling. All that was on her mind was the green-eyed ghost boy in Julie’s kitchen.

——————𖠄———————

Taglist/I’m also tagging people that reposted but let me know if you don’t want to be apart of it or if you do!!

@taehyungsrealgucciwife @oi-itsemily @spoiler-alert-im-not-straight @kaitieskidmore1 @lovepizza-cake11 @tuttigunner

53 notes · View notes

eleven-oh-five · 3 years

Text

We lost a friend today.

When you’re in your 20’s, the last thing you think about is burying a friend. Sure, accidents happen but not to me, right?

Today I learned the hard way that isn’t the case.

After a night of random insomnia, I get a call from a friend around 9 telling me that he’s gone. I didn’t understand, where had he gone?

Then she said that he’s dead.

At this point I don’t know what to say and am in shock. Husband takes the phone and asks what she needs from us at this time and she asks that we come over. We quickly change, grab our shit, and are out the door.

Upon arriving, she’s making phone calls informing friends of the tragic news. Husband calls our friend’s boss, as he used to work for that company, to inform the news as well.

At this point the coroner hadn’t arrived and the body was still in the house. She says that she wants to go sit with him and asks me to sit with her, so I do. I sit with her until about an hour and a half later and we’re watching his body be placed into the medical examiner’s truck and drive away.

No one tells you that, after someone dies, you’ll have the body of the deceased in your presence for hours after EMT’s determine there’s nothing they can do. That they’re gone. This was not a quick process. For better or for worse, I guess.

I’m thankful that the children were with their grandma and will never have to see their father the way we did. The body that I saw didn’t even look like him to me. He looked like a stranger who was all the wrong colors, only vaguely looking like the man I knew.

Many friends, family members, and coworkers stopped by to offer support. Many tears were shed. Many memories shared. We laughed, we cried, we found solace in the silence. We also all became sticky, sweaty messes because it was 100° out but we still embraced one another.

Nothing in life prepares you for this.

When his mom arrived from out of state and the children came home, it was time to tell them the truth. They were suspicious and it couldn’t be avoided any longer. I asked her if she wanted me there or if she wanted to do this alone with mom but she wanted me there.

The children had recently lost a dog and were explained about heaven and generally understood that this is a place people and animals go when they can’t be with us anymore. I’m not religious at all but this isn’t the time to be worrying about my beliefs.

This, however, was much more difficult than telling a child a dog won’t be coming home anymore. This is their father you’re talking about.

As gently as possible, it was explained that their daddy got sick in the night and went to heaven. He wouldn’t be coming home again.

The 4 year old understood this in generalities but was obviously confused. The 7 year old instantly bottled up his feelings and internalized whatever he was thinking. When promoted both children said they had no thoughts to discuss at the moment, which is fine.

The children went to a friend’s house for the night to give her time to grieve alone and they’ll return tomorrow.

I realized when I got home that imposter syndrome hit me pretty hard. I didn’t feel like I belonged there despite being like family to my friends and they’re like family to husband and I, too. When she wanted me there with her for significant parts of the day, I felt like it should have been someone else. I didn’t voice this or object to any request, it’s just something I noticed.

The days coming are going to be difficult. Today was hard. So, so hard.

I’ll never forget how he treated me like a person and not just husband’s significant other who he has to tolerate. He would teach me about his hobbies, which were also husband’s hobbies, so that I could participate in the conversation. While I didn’t always understand, he made a conscious effort to include me.

There’s so many little things I keep thinking of. Like how we’d always be a team on Smash and he’d put her and husband on a team because we kicked ass together even though I legit sucked at the game. Or how I surpassed being an auntie and became Momma Myiah to the kids because I meant more to him and them. Or how he nearly got kicked out of my wedding for being an ass only to turn around and have wood glue all over the back of his pants like a shit stain.

We were the first friends to arrive and the last to leave.

It’s just so surreal. He had so much more to live for.

Right now I’m just hurting and I’ll grieve in time. My husband lost his best friend and we’re all doing the best we can to cope.

#just shut up myiah #hold your loved ones close #tomorrow may bring tragedy

7 notes · View notes