#or was it just my middle school that had all the rage for colored cords | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mechalily · 4 months

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fir branches, tied with red cord.

hello everyone! this writing is a secret santa present for precious @lovely-rubeum, who's works are a must-read for Thoma fans.

(🍂) tags: fluff (flashbacks), angst (currently), small age gap (2 years), fem!reader.

(⭐) spoiler tags: abandoment.

„ ♪ Last Christmas I gave you my heart, but you gave it away the very next day..“ New Year songs could've been heard everywhere. Layers of snowy crystals covered roofs and columns, fences and street lamps, making the light fuzzy. It's been six months since you left your homeland and went to university in another city. Yes, unlike your quiet little town with no kind of gaities and very few inhabitants who all knew each other, the city had much more to offer: wild parties every night, tons of cafes and restaurants, huge 20-floor shopping centers and different varieties of professional paths to follow. But your heart belonged to the calm peace of the town, soft sunbeams in the mornings, endless pinkish sky with plum-colored fluffy clouds — such dear memories were engraved in your soul. And, of course, your constant source of warmth whenever loneliness of an outsider hit you too hard was your childhood friendship with Thoma.

Thoma, who's hair reminded you of straws, who's green eyes shined brightly, who's genuine smile painted your cheeks with a prominent blush. Although you never communicated since he moved, reminiscence of your innocent tender bonds was still precious to you.

"Does he even remember me?" you wondered at times, looking up at the sky, gazing upon stars, so close yet so far, just like Thoma himself.

You were 7, he was 9. He was a "big boy" with responsibilities much bigger than yours. His family wasn't very financially stable: the father went missing two years ago, the mother worked two jobs so she appeared at home just to sleep and to cook something for her son, who also worked hard everyday, mowing lawns and walking dogs in order to get some money.

Your family was totally opposite. Huge inheritance allowed your parents to live as they pleased, going on trips every year and spoiling their beloved daughter — you — with tons of clothes, toys and sweets. At times, when you acted capriciously, your mom scoldingly reminded you of poor Thoma.

"Honey, you shouldn't take everything for granted. You are living a very comfortable life, unlike some people who weren't born that lucky. Think of the neighbor’s boy! Only two years older yet already working. Behave and take an example"

You sobbed yet didn't start crying in rage like you always did. After all, mom was right. Sometimes, on snowy winter evenings, you could see Thoma from your balcony. He cleared snow with a shovel twice his size. You never saw him playing with other kids or doing silly things natural for his age. Actually, he didn't have friends at all due to being constantly busy.

Christmas arrived, and your parents showered you with gifts on this occasion. Wearing new boots, cute hat and a coat, you went out into the yard to build a snowman. You saw a glimpse similar to a dark spot on a pure white snow. It turned out to be Thoma, dressed in some rags — the boy carried heavy packages, which was visibly difficult for him.

"Lemme help ya," you volunteered out of nowhere, grabbing a package's strap.

"You sure? It's heavy..." he hesitantly mumbled.

"I'm billion percent sure. Let's be friends!" you blurted out, steam curling out of your mouth.

Thoma froze in place. It was the first time ever anyone suggested to befriend him. You two were breathing heavily, dragging bundle along the street in quietness. You started feeling worried due to him keeping silent, but suddenly cheery voice interrupted the hush:

"Sure, let's be friends! What's your name?" Thoma smiled widely, exposing teeth.

You introduced yourself, and that was the day your life has entirely changed.

You were 11, he was 13. Even after enrolling into middle school and making friends with his peers Thoma still valued you the most. He picked you up after classes, treated to home-made meals, played games with you and helped when it came to studying. School wasn't easy for him. Working part-time and taking care of his mother in a hangover took all of his free time. Thoma expected you to dump him: after all, he was unable to go to cafes and amusement parks, buy you gifts and share candies. He couldn't endure your saddened face and pouty cheeks without heart ache whenever he told you he wouldn't have time to go play with you.

But what Thoma did not expect was you acting on the contrary.

"Oh, you are such a good boy!" your mother giggled, patting his head. You invited him to a sleepover in your house every week, and he finally gained an opportunity to shower in warm water, eat a proper dinner and not some semi-finished products thrown in one plate, sleep for full 8 hours..Your parents were incredibly kind and caring, considerate yet never intrusive. Here, in your place, Thoma felt loved, loved unconditionally. You two enjoyed your cocoa with marshmallow, cooked slightly crooked gingerbread and decorated the Christmas Tree all together.

“Who do you think you will be in the future, Thoma?” you asked one evening, when two of you were busy with baking a pie.

“Uh, wait, wait a second! One last thing… Here,” he spread out dough strips, “closing” the pie. “Who will I be in the future, you said? Ha-ha, to be honest.. I don’t really know. I hope I’ll work with kids or manage domestic stuff, cuz I enjoy doing it,” he chuckled, fixing his apron. “Hey, you are all in flour! Give me a second, I’ll wipe it off,” the boy reached out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear and swiped the flour away. His touch sent shivers down your spine, as if you got hit with electricity.

“And who do you think you’ll be?” Thoma questioned.

“Hm… I want to become a teacher one day. Or a doctor,” «or your significant other», you added mentally.

“You are so hard-working, I’m sure you’ll succeed!” he smiled encouragely and patted you on the shoulder.

You were 14, he was 16. From shy and ordinary guy Thoma became popular, quick-witted and got admired for his nice sunny personality. You, on the other hand, had grown up reserved and quiet. That, whatsoever, didn’t break your friendship.

“Hey, pumpkin, forgetting your lunch box becomes a habit!”

Of course you recognized this upbeat voice. Who else would’ve called you a pumpkin?

When you turned your gaze up to your desk, there was a cute box in sight and widely smiling blond.

“Aww, come on, Thoma, you didn’t have to!” you sighed dramatically, although internally you were screaming, feeling flattered from such solicitude.

“I have to, because I care about your health, silly,” he gently ruffled your hair, avoiding ruining your hairstyle. “Let’s have a meal before lunch break ends, okay? I’ll stay here with you, no worries, we won’t go to the cafeteria,” he added immediately after noticing barely evident hints of your anxiety.

“...thanks, Thoma. Let’s see what you’ve prepared for me,” with that, you opened the box.. and your heart started pulsing like you have run a marathon.

Absolutely adorable salad with different vegetables, cut in some cute shapes. The dedication and efforts, invested in this dish, were obvious. You nearly teared up. No one has ever did something like that for you.

“H-hey, is everything alright? You’ve turned pale…” Thoma asked in concerned tone.

“No, no, not at all! It’s just so sweet of you.. Thank you so much. I can’t make myself eat such masterpiece..”

“Hold on, kid! You need to eat, otherwise I might spoon feed you,” once in a while Thoma acted mischievously, and you couldn’t predict this behavior. He was never mean, of course, but teasing certainly had a place in moments like this.

“And how about feeding me from mouth to mouth, huh?” you teased him back with a sly grin.

Thoma reddened: the color of his face was similar to the color of his jacket.

“Ah-ha-ha… You are quite naughty, aren’t you?” you could feel the heat emanating from his body.

“And what if so?” you cheekily raised your eyebrow.

“I assume a kiss will be able to erase this smirk from your face,” the boy tried to get his composure back, but failed miserably, stumbling his words and awkwardly fidgeting.

“Try it, so we could discuss the truthfulness of your statement”

“Um… maybe next time, ha-ha…”

To Thoma’s luck, the bell rang, so he ran out of the classroom, leaving you alone and flustered.

“Don’t forget to eat, pumpkin!”

Since that day you two have never brought up this accident, even though having lunch with Thoma became a daily routine.

You were 16, he was 18. He was embracing you tightly, despite the uncomfortable proximity under the boiling sun.

“I’ll miss you, pumpkin,” he mumbled, and you could tell he was being honest — every wrinkle, every muscle of his face depicted the dreary sorrow of parting. Even though his 12 years old Nokia phone still worked, you heavily doubted it would function properly. Yet you still hoped for the best.

“Thoma, dear.. Please, call or text me as soon as possible. It’s dull without you,” tears flowed on their own, and you couldn’t help it.

Suddenly you sensed some soft sensation against your skin. There was no need to look up to understand what was it. You closed your eyes and indulged in bubbly pleasure.

Thoma was your first best friend.

Thoma was your first Valentine, though you both considered it to be a friendly one.

Thoma was the first person apart of your family to cook for you.

Everything important in your life was about him.

And now, he granted you your first kiss.

“I love you,” his green eyes watered just like yours. “When I graduate, I’ll come back for you. Do you agree?”, you grabbed his calloused hands and squeezed them.

“Yes. Yes, of course”

Two years have passed since then. There were no news from Thoma nor texts or calls. He simply disappeared from the world. Both of his parents rested in peace, and they didn’t have any relatives, so wondering about his fate was all you’ve got to do. Your messages never got delivered.

“Sorry, the number you dialed does not exist,” you heard this voice line so many times it annoyed you to no end. You cried out of frustration, you felt numbness and anger, and finally, you accepted the entire situation.

Maybe he dumped you.

Maybe something happened to him.

You won’t know until his studying finishes.

Graduating from high school, passing exams, enrolling into university — you went through everything all by yourself with support from your parents.

Sipping coffee and sinking in your unhappy thoughts, you didn’t pay attention to any of the cafe visitors — after all, it was way too far from yor home, there was no chance to meet your countryman.

With the bell tickle, which announced the emergence of new client, loud fast speech could have been heard:

“Yoimiya, I’m so sorry! I left my place on time, it’s just that traffic accident with a mongrel dog occured, I had to take poor animal to the vet-”

This voice.

You stared upon the guest in disbelief.

Blond hair. Red coat. Black bandana which looked like horns. Pitiful smile. Green eyes.

“Oh, dear God, Thoma! Is everything okay? Is the doggie alright?! Ugh, how could this be?..” fair-headed young lady came out of the stall and jumped forward the man.

“Wait,” he shook his head as if he was trying to get rid of weird delusions. But that was not a delusion.

“Is this…” his voice lowered to husky whisper, eyes widened in shock.

“...Thoma?” you stood up on shaking legs.

#thoma x reader #genshin headcanons #hurt/comfort #genshin x reader #gixrsecretsanta2023

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hxwks-gf · 4 years

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｡･:*:･ﾟcrossing the line

pro-hero deku x reader

summary: you show up on deku’s doorstep in the middle of a stormy night with a fresh bruise on your cheek. he big mad and takes care of you

genre: angst, fluff, mutual pining

warnings: domestic abuse, descriptions of abuse, descriptions of injuries, spicy elements if you squint, one swear word

w/c: 2.4k

request: Hey there! I am feeling the sad and the numb and feeling like being rescued. So can I request Deku saving female reader from an abusive situation? (up to you whether they are in high school or adults) Like say a boyfriend, or now ex boyfriend, is all mad you've been spending with Deku. So you get in a fight and this now ex boyfriend has the audacity to slap/punch you. Either in front of Deku or like reader comes running to him with a dark bruise on their cheek.

a/n: this has some explicit depictions of the reader being hit by their partner, so if that’s triggering to you i would advise you not to read! it’s not super graphic, but i know it can make some people uncomfy. also, if you or you know someone who is a victim of domestic violence, here’s their hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) please be safe my lovelies! and enjoy some sweet and soft deku ♡♡

“Y/N…” Deku’s soft yet firm voice only served to force the tears in your eyes to spill over your cheeks against your will. “Who did this to you?”

“Deku, it’s fine,” you said through trembling breaths, trying to regain at least some of your composure. “It’s not a big deal.”

He stepped close to you. Too close, your mind screamed. This was exactly what your manipulative boyfriend had berated you for, this strange closeness between you and Izuku that could no longer be categorized as pure, simple friendship. You had danced along this line for months now, blissfully unaware of the fact that taking even a single step over it, accidental or not, could ruin you. However, as Deku’s warm breath fanned over your face, smelling of peppermint and comfort, you were so afraid. It was blindingly evident in your wavering breaths and trembling hands.

The pads of his fingertips found themselves gently caressing the harsh bruise that mottled your upper cheekbone, his green eyes carefully gauging your reaction to see if you would stop him. You didn’t. You couldn’t.

You melted into his touch and pushed your cheek further into his hand, wincing at the dull, aching pain of the bruise. Pretty soon his fingers were damp with your tears.

“When?” he asked, and you recognized that dark, determined tone lurking just beyond the word.

“Not long before I came here,” you replied. “He…he just lost control. That’s all.”

“No, that’s not all.” Deku pulled his hand away and settled for holding one of yours, still shaking with fear. The callouses and scars that decorated his skin stood out against your own, a reminder that he too was no stranger to abuse. Albeit none of it came from a jealous, manipulative, disgusting boyfriend. “Was this the first time?”

“Yes,” you whispered, swallowing the lump in your throat as you remembered the pure, unchecked rage and aggression that had bubbled in your boyfriend’s eyes just moments before he snapped.

“You’re staying here tonight.”

Fresh fear ripped through you and you violently shook your head, pulling your hand out of his grasp. You didn’t want to think of the consequences you would suffer if you didn’t return home that night.

“I can’t,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I have to go back, you don’t understand—”

“Hey, listen to me.” Deku reached up and cradled your cheeks, mindful of the bruise. “Y/N, you’re safe here. With me. I will never let that man come anywhere near you ever again, do you understand?”

“What are you saying?” It was hard to focus on anything but his warm hands on your cheeks, his thumbs idly wiping the salty tears that never seemed to stop dripping down your face.

Deku sighed and dropped his face. “I want you to stay with me until we can find another living situation for you. You aren’t going back to that apartment until we pick up your things.” His expression hardened. “You will never have to deal with that pathetic excuse for a man again.”

Your lower lip trembled. “He won’t just let me go, Deku.”

“Yes, he will.”

“How do you know?”

Deku ran his thumbs across your cheeks again. “Because if he doesn’t, I’ll make sure he does.” He slid his hands along your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. He was so warm, so inviting. He was a cozy cabin in the middle of a harsh and unforgiving blizzard, just waiting for you to open the door and let yourself inside.

“Deku,” you whispered, looking up at him through tear-stained eyes. Your hand was on the metaphorical door handle of the cabin, all you had to do was turn it. “I…”

His lips curved into a smile. “You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. Let’s get you inside.”

“Wait, wait,” you said, reaching out to stop him. Your fingers curled around his bicep, strong and corded with muscle. “Deku, you really don’t understand—” Pinching the bridge of your nose before you could say anything else, you sighed. You wanted to scream at him that it was because of the budding feelings you had for him, the feelings that were forcefully pushing back against your inhibitions you had so carefully crafted, but no sound came out of your mouth.

He just stood there, staring at you with those impossibly deep green eyes that reminded you of forests in spring, bright and soft all at once. “Y/N, is there something else? Something you’re not telling me?”

Nothing ever gets past him, you thought to yourself. He was still so close. You could feel the warmth radiating from him.

Your phone suddenly buzzed in your pocket, the familiar ringtone that you had assigned to your boyfriend breaking the strange, heavy silence. Your stomach dropped as you slid it from your pocket with shaking hands, barely able to read the little text bubble.

“Don’t read that,” Deku murmured, and his hands were covering yours and gently pulling the phone out of your grasp. “Can you come inside, please? It’s going to rain again soon.”

The bruise that decorated your cheek was starting to throb, as if somehow you were still connected to your boyfriend through it. Every thought you had of him only made it worse.

“Okay,” you said softly, letting your head fall in defeat.

Deku wasted no more time in ushering you into his apartment, mindful to double-lock the door behind you. The space was a little more cluttered than the last time you had been over, various piles of clothes strewn about the floor and boxes of takeout left forgotten on the kitchen counters.

“S-sorry,” he sheepishly chuckled, clearing some of the clothes out of the hallway with a swift kick. “It’s been a busy few weeks since I last saw you.”

You stood in the middle of the living room, waiting for him to tell you where to go or what to do. Everything felt...muddled. Your toes were up against that invisible line again, but this time they were curious. What was it like on the other side? Your eyes flicked up to watch Deku hurrying andto try and tidy his place for you, his eyebrows pulled together in adorable concentration. He noticed you staring and flashed you an embarrassed grin.

One step.

“Deku,” you said, wringing your hands.

He stopped, his grin dissolving into a frown. “What’s wrong?”

You licked your lips in anticipation, not sure how to approach the words that wanted to spill from them. All you wanted to do was have him wrap those strong, protective arms around you and never let go. “You don’t have to worry about cleaning,” you found yourself choking out, wincing at your own cowardice. “I’m really tired.”

“Oh, right,” he said, dropping the box of takeout he held in his hands into the garbage. “Let me get you some clean clothes to sleep in, is that okay?”

You knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you simply nodded. He disappeared into his bedroom for a moment and then reappeared with a pile of neatly folded clothes; a soft hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. When you took them, his fingertips brushed your knuckles and it sent a bolt of electricity up your arm and directly into your heart. He stood there and stared at you, hands still just-barely touching yours, until you cleared your throat.

“I’m going to go change,” you said, averting your eyes and skirting around him to escape into his bedroom. Once inside, you quickly shut the door and threw the pile of clothes on the bed. You stared at his sheets, still rumpled and messy from whenever he last slept in it. You had no doubt it smelled of him, too.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” you said from the bedroom door, dressed in his hoodie and sweatpants.

Deku glanced over his shoulder and his eyes traveled over your form, unhidden appreciation all over his face. However, his expression shifted into confusion as he processed your words. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ll take my bed. I’d be a terrible friend if I made you sleep on the couch after what you went through.”

“It’s fine,” you said, unable to tell him that you didn’t want to be completely surrounded by his scent for fear it would only catalyze your feelings that you still refused to acknowledge. “Please, just let me sleep out here, Deku. It’s okay.”

“Alright,” he said slowly before glancing at the clock. “I have some work to finish at the agency tomorrow morning, but I’m going to take a half day and come home early. Will you be okay by yourself for a few hours?”

“I think so,” you replied, absentmindedly running your fingers over your injured cheek.

He stepped close to you again, breaking you out of your thoughts. Your breath hitched in your throat as he reached up and studied the bruise, fingertips tracing the mottled colors. He shook his head and sighed, dropping his hand. His touch lingered on your skin.

“Get some rest,” he murmured, guiding you to the couch and placing a blanket over you. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You looked up at him standing over you, knowing that it would be so, so easy to twist your fingers in the collar of his shirt and bring his lips down to yours. But a heavy thunderclap shook the apartment and interrupted the thoughts that were stirring in your mind. You pulled the blanket up over your shoulders and pressed the uninjured side of your face into the pillow.

“Goodnight,” you said, already feeling the sleep begin to pull you away from the waking world.

Deku chuckled, giving the top of your head a gentle stroke, before disappearing into his bedroom and drifting off to sleep himself.

A deafening thunderclap jerked you from sleep and you shot straight up on the couch, looking wildly around for any signs of your boyfriend.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, putting your face in your hands. The bruise throbbed incessantly. The rain pattered against the windows, and every few minutes a bolt of lightning would illuminate the apartment.

Without thinking, you were slipping out from under the blanket and walking towards the bedroom. Stop, stop, stop, the little voice in your head started to shout as you placed your hand on the doorknob.

“Shut up,” you growled at it, and you twisted your hand to take that glorious first step over that invisible line you had been dancing along for so many months.

His bedroom was dark but you could make out his sleeping form underneath the comforter. You pulled it back and slid beneath it, already feeling his warmth stretching across the bed.

“Y/N?” came his groggy voice.

“It’s me,” you whispered, and he shifted so he was facing you.

“What’s wrong?”

You swallowed nervously. “I want to do something.”

That got his attention. He lifted his head and blinked before saying, “What do you mean?”

“Just stay still, okay?”

“Okay.”

Your heart melted at the softness of his voice. Before you could stop yourself, you scooted close enough to him that you could smell his sweet breath again, and you hesitantly placed a palm on his cheek.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

“And don’t talk,” you whispered back, bringing your face just centimeters away from his. His hair was soft at the ends of your fingers as you held his cheek, and then you slowly, slowly brushed your lips over his in the softest way possible, so soft that you were sure you had imagined it.

But when the breath he had been holding exhaled over your mouth, you realized you had not imagined it and you had, in fact, just kissed Izuku Midoriya in his bed, in the middle of a thunderstorm.

You pulled back and took a trembling breath, still feeling the lingering touch of his lips. He was staring at you with wide eyes and a slack jaw, no words coming out of his open mouth. A breath of silence passed between you.

Before you knew it, his hands were grasping at any part of you that was available to him and pulling you flush against his body. He placed his lips against yours again, but this time it was like a dam had broken and he was spilling out every single missed opportunity into the kiss. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, the only thought you had in your brain was of him.

You opened wider for him and he gasped into your mouth, fingers gripping your hips so hard you knew it would leave bruises.

“Stop,” he breathlessly whispered against your mouth. “This...this isn’t how I thought our first kiss would go—”

“You’ve thought about kissing me?”

Deku pulled away and looked at you, the softness returning to his eyes. “Of course I have.”

You were already craving more of him, now that you had gotten a taste. As you leaned in for another kiss, he gently stopped you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, unable to mask the nervousness in your voice.

“I want to take this slow,” he murmured, running a hand along the side of your face. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you and your….current situation. I want to give you the time and space to properly heal and process what you’re going through.”

Is this what a healthy partner does? you thought to yourself as you stared at him. Weird.

“Alright, fair enough,” you finally said, laying back down beside him. Deku automatically wrapped an arm around your shoulder and brought you into his chest, just like you had pined for just hours earlier. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to kiss you,” he said into your hair, and your eyes fluttered closed.

“I want to do it again soon,” you said, smiling into his chest.

His chuckle rumbled through you and put you at an ease you didn’t think existed. The line you had crossed was long gone now, and you would never think about it again. As his arm tightened around you and the rain continued to pour outside, you felt safe for the first time in a very long time. The apprehensiveness of the future still festered in the back of your mind as you lay there and listened to the rain.

But for now, with his arms keeping you safe from the world, it was enough.

♡ 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐: @greatbiscuitsword @a-monsters-love @jennammae @heydae20 @unlasting @kuurechr @erilerichan

𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝!

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marsupials-of-mars · 5 years

Text

Graying

Synopsis: From the initial split at childhood all the way through present day, a collection of days in the life of Remus as we get to know why he is how he is now, and how he got his white streak.

Warnings: gore, blood, sexual reference, poison, angst

7/8/94

Creativity woke up in a cold sweat. Creativity also woke up in a cold sweat. They looked at one another. That wasn't right. Wrong. bad. The mindscape felt conflicted, and everyone was looking at him. At them. One thought rang in Creativity's mind, something that had been there before he woke up. He smiled and shouted:

"Poopyhead!"

"No!" Virgil squealed and covered his ears.

Creativity's face fell. It came back to him. He'd been just one person, moments before. Five year old Thomas was arguing with his mom and needed something to call her, because she was being very unfair. No dessert, she'd said, and that wasn't fair. Deceit had said so. So Creativity had made up the perfect name.

"Poopyhead!"

"NO!" Everyone had yelled at him at once, and it hurt his ears, and his head.

"We'll get in trouble!"

"That's really mean!"

"We definitely won't get dessert!"

Virgil, then Patton, then Logan, all hated his idea, and it hurt, and it hurt more, until he felt his brain tear apart. And he woke up in two pieces. The sides all grouped around Creativity, but not him. The other one. The one with the name. The name that Creativity himself didn't feel like he had anymore. Around Roman. Roman was bright red again, not the icky pukey color he'd been fading into recently. The gross color that happened when you color a green marker over a red marker. He must have gotten the green marker out of him. With that thought, Creativity looked down at himself. He felt his heart fall into his stomach. He was the green marker. The ruiner. His bangs fell into his face, and a flash of silver caught his eye. One grey hair. And Thomas didn't say "poopyhead". Instead he said;

"I'll make you a drawing for it!"

9/20/97

Remus hung his head off the edge of the top bunk, playing with his costume's few new baubles and frills, watching Roman scribble furiously. Thomas had been assigned a Young Author's book, a story he had to write all by himself. It was very exciting, but Roman had insisted he would do it himself. From what Remus could tell he was basing it off of The Little Mermaid. Remus usually stayed quiet at this point, whispers or nothing, his pinch of silver hair a constant reminder of the pain of daring to contribute. But he had such a good idea, and Thomas wouldn't be the best writer in the class without it!

"Flounder gets eaten by an eel! And he dies!"

Roman spun to look up at him in horror and disgust. "NO! It's my story and that's not what happens!"

And Remus heard shouts around the mind as Thomas experienced the thought, and though distant, he heard them all clear as day.

"That's so sad, nooo!"

"We'd get in trouble with the teacher!"

"We definitely wont win if we get disqualified!"

Again, sharp pain, stabbing into his head, pressure, squeezing, piercing. He gripped his head and whined.

"Fine! Do it your way! Fartface!" He pouted as another sandy hair drained of color. He decided it was best to just stay quiet no matter what.

4/5/01

Remus played with his hair, again trying to pluck the greys only to have another immediately grow back in their place. Still, he'd developed an enjoyment of the zap of pain at each pluck, escalating to tearing out larger chunks of hair and scratching tick tac toes into his thighs, watching the white marks fade to dark pink. It was something to do when nobody liked him, nobody wanted to talk to him, when a part of the mind wasn't allowed to do his job. He giggled and turned his attention to his new outfit, now a bit more glittery, frilly, crazy. He felt it was missing something. Before he could determine what, he was called to attention. Thomas was upset. He joined the others down in the common area to view what the body was doing. Thomas stood in front of one of his friends, Hannah maybe. Remus didn't care to keep track, why would he if he wasnt allowed to interact with them? But she wasn't being very friendly. She was yelling, something not true that she thought Thomas did, that he hit her maybe. She was saying she would tell the teacher. Patton was trying to reason and pacify, Deceit was ranting about how unfair it all was, Virgil was on the verge of tears. Roman was trying to find a way out of it, but to no avail. Remus growled. Thomas was upset, and he had an idea to help him. And he would say it, no matter the pain he knew would come with it, because nobody else was helping. He cleared his throat, almost rusty from lack of use after committing to being selectively mute for nearly four years now, squeaky and grating and unfamiliar. He pushed to the middle of the group and yelled, the group all startling at the new voice;

"KICK HER TEETH OUT!"

And the room went silent a moment. And Remus felt something. acknowledgment. Thomas winced. Thomas had heard him. Thomas had thought his thought. And that euphoria carried Remus through the onslaught of reprimanding by the others, the headache and the pain, and the three grey hairs that sprouted at once. He was all but shoved back into his room, in a blur. Rather than laying down (in his bed now fully across the room from Roman's), he conjured a little eleven year old girl, with a very kickable face. And he kicked her teeth out. And there was blood, and it felt good. He took the handful of teeth, thinking over his recent dissatisfaction with his outfit. He took some superglue, and bedazzled his uniform with the bloodied, bony gems. He felt better. This felt better. If merely kicking a stranger felt that cathartic... He conjured a Patton, then a Logan, a Virgil, a Roman and a Deceit for good measure. And finally a knife. And he used it. And he felt so, so much better, his vocal cords aching from sudden use as he laughed, and hollered his battle cries. Blood, so much blood of all colors of the rainbow. And he was loud, because he wanted to be, because he wasn't ever allowed to be this loud before, and because he wasn't ever allowed, he wanted to be. He wanted to be LOUD. He was so loud that he couldn't hear the footsteps approaching his door, that he couldn't hear the click of the latch, that he could barely hear his brother's scream of horror upon entering the room. Barely.

10/20/04

Remus ran circles around Deceit, trying to annoy him into submission, his tassels and sequins and beads jingling against his oufit as he danced about. He grabbed his friend's shoulders, shaking him, wrapping him in mucus laden tentacles and threatening disgusting and/or violent methods of persuasion. Deceit just calmly shook his head through it all.

"I can't allow that, and I'll continue to say it, your whining isn't as tough on my resolve as you think it is. I live with you. You're forgetting that most of these aren't really threats as much as typical weekday activities."

"Come OOON! He wants it, you want it, Roman and Patton wont admit it but OH how they want it-"

"NO. You don't think high school is hard enough already without that on his plate? He'd get torn to shreds! Chewed up and spit out! But clearly you dont care about his wellbeing..."

Remus felt as if a sword had been plunged through his chest. "I DON'T CA-?! Is that what you think of me?! I want him to be happy, and what would make him REAL happy is getting himself some dick!"

Deceit winced. "REMUS ENOUGH. Not the time, Not the place! End of conversation!"

Remus scoffed in disbelief. "LOOK at me! Look at Roman! You can't look at us with a straight face and think 'yep, straight, end of conversation'!"

"I'm not SAYING he's straight, I'm saying he doesn't need to know otherwise right now!"

"And wrapping it all up in some pussy with a little gift bow on top for when he's old enough to regret never being raw and honest with himself is better for him?!"

"He's in high school, he has a lot on his plate, we don't have the time or emotional stability for 'raw and honest!!!'"

Remus's face was hot and red, he sputtered out what could have been words if he wasn't so infuriated.

"FINE. That IS what you would want wouldn't it be DECEIT?!" He turned on his heel.

"Don't you 'Deceit' me! You know my name!"

"You're right! Maybe if you ever try a tactic other than repression and lies I'll try it out! As it stands, I'm taking this into my own hands! Oh! That rhymed!" Remus giggled.

Deceit threw up his hands. "Try! I dare you! You know what happens!"

"Oh of course I know! You all gang up and torture me for every suggestion I make! But that doesn't keep me from making them! Watch me! I like the pain! I'll jerk it to that shit if it means I get my ideas out! You can watch, I won't mind, but if you'd rather finally stay out of my way and let me do my job I'd take that too!"

It was Deceit's turn to flush with rage. But Remus didn't stick around to watch. He sprinted up to the main area and looked out the eyes of the body. And there he was. A boy, tall and tan and gorgeous, one lunch table away. Thomas was staring. Remus had one shot to bust through. He took a breath and spoke softly;

"It's just you and me Thomas. Nobody else knows what you need right now. But I do. And I want you to be happy. I always have." He cleared his throat, thinking suave, thinking tact. He paused. The others could block out tact couldn't they? He needed something loud and awful. He needed Thomas to start thinking, just to consider. He was better at loud and awful anyway.

The boy stretched, arms behind his head, his shirt lifting just enough to show a glimpse of his abs. Remus drooled. Perfect.

"BEND HIM OVER THAT TABLE AND FUCK HIM HERE AND NOW!"

Thomas choked, the bite of sandwich he'd just taken suddenly tasting sour and mushy in his mouth.

Remus felt the onslaught of reprimands coming at him from all directions.

"That's not right!"

"What would our parents say?!"

"We can't afford to think about this right now!"

His brain ached, his stomach turned, he felt as if needles were plunging into his skull from all angles. A folicle drained of pigment. But he was beaming. Thomas was thinking. And Deceit was useless to stop him. He felt arms grab him from behind, restraining his legs, his arms, keeping him from whipping his head back to dislocate a jaw. Six arms.

"How fun! My bestest friend came to watch after all! How's the repression going hm? Why arent you cutting him off? Why is he THINKING?" Remus teased as the pounding in his head only got louder and heavier, and two more hairs lost color. He suddenly felt fangs in his neck, piercing deep, venom seeping into his bloodstream. Remus moaned. "Deceit! I forgot you were into-" The effort of speaking became too much, his jaw exhausting with the rest of him.

The venom, which Remus had so lovingly taken to calling "dreamkiller", had a tendency to put him to sleep, killing his suggested train of thought almost instantly.

Remus watched Thomas start to hum to distract himself as he drifted off. Thomas's train of thought could die. That was fine. Because it would not be forgotten. He could be shut down, hurt, repressed, all they wanted to repress him. But now he could be heard. He could get through when he wanted. He could intrude. And that was all he needed.

4/3/09

Remus leapt like a trained ballerina about his pigsty of a room, twirling with ax in hand, gleefully slaughtering actual pigs. He was in a good mood, because Thomas was in a good mood. Thomas was eating lunch outside, leaned up against a cement campus building warmed by sun, his boyfriend by his side. They were chatting about majors, clearly a Logan-centric conversation, but Roman and Patton were also apparently hard at work with the amount of puppy love and flirting going on between the lines. Remus delighted in knowing he had a part in it, no matter how small it really was. The flint to the fire maybe.

The happy mood suddenly shifted into something less nice. Remus huffed. What went wrong? He made his way up to the main area, dripping with blood. Thomas was saying his goodbyes. He had a class to go to. Remus pouted. They were having such a good time! He pushed between Logan, Patton, and Roman.

"Remus? What could you possibly want to do?!" Roman grabbed for Remus's sash but he shook him off.

"We're merely parting for class, leaving this conversation to be resumed at a later time. I pose the same question." Logan didn't bother to try to stop Remus but looked at him quizzically.

"Fuck school. Just getting something out of my system." Remus readied himself. The others braced, Patton and Roman attempting to pull him back.

"DISEMBOWEL THE PROFESSOR! GOUGE HIS EYES OUT WITH YOUR PENCILS AND CRUSH HIS SKULL WITH YOUR OVERPRICED TEXTBOOKS! BATHE IN HIS BLOOD!"

"Jesus christ!" Roman tackled him to the ground. "Where did that come from?!" Patton held his hands over his mouth in shock. Even Logan seemed queasy.

Once again as usual, pressure in his brain, stabbing, burning, gut-twisting as they scolded. Two hairs lost pigment. Nearly all of his bangs were white at this point. He barely noticed the stress on his body anymore, he was used to it. Not that it didnt hurt.

"I HATE class. It's no fun!"

Roman lifted him over his shoulder and began marching him down to his room, the others following.

"Everybody hates class!" Logan began to speak but Roman cut him off. "Everyone but Logan. But that was WAY too extreme! You need to chill! You've been getting worse and worse, especially since classes started! what is UP with you?!"

Remus would have spoken if he'd known the answer. He thought back. His contributions HAD been more explicit and exciting recently. Maybe Thomas was just maturing and taking his thoughts with him. But he had been doing it more and more, suggesting bigger and bigger things. Everything about him was more extreme, had been getting more extreme over all of Thomas's years. His oufit, his ideas, his casual day to day actions... his gray streak. He brought his hand to his bangs. Buildup. That was what. Roman dumped him into his room.

"Whatever it is, figure it out. Thomas is stressed out already, he doesnt need your wicked suggestions."

"He doesn't need them, but arent they exciting?!" Remus grinned before the door was slammed in his face.

He sighed and got up, with a bit of difficulty considering the slick pig guts across his carpet, and flopped onto his bed. He played with his attempted facial hair for a moment, the few hairs he insisted would one day form a magnificent moustache to be jealous of, no matter all of Logan's insistence that Thomas didnt have the hair-growing capacity. It was coming along well enough. He considered his life. Thomas's resolve to be family friendly, to be a "good person" inside and out, every thought he had. But he was twenty, Remus should have some say over his creativity. But every suggestion was either too violent, too gross, too X-rated, according to the others. But he couldn't help it. He had to be loud and awful, it was the only way he got through. He would have loved if the others let him be the half of creativity he could be, but as it stood to this point, he had to intrude. He was conditioned to intrude. It was what he knew. And thinking about it, he wasn't sure he would be able to just be "bad creativity" anymore. He was retitled, the way Logan referred to him. Intrusive thoughts. And he liked that, he was his own entity, not just Roman's brother, not just the twin as his name entailed. He could do something that made a difference, that made Thomas stop in his tracks, and sweat, and panic, and question. An override. Everything stopped for his ideas. He liked that. But he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if it didn't hurt so bad. What he would have become.

But he liked what he did. He loved it. Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he'd believe it. That always seemed to work for Thomas, didn't it?

6/26/19

Remus could hardly breathe. He must have heard wrong.

"I can what?"

"I'm letting you out, you get to join the group with Thomas tomorrow. They're meeting for a video. I need you to do your worst, prove to Thomas that there are things worth hiding from himself. He wants to be more honest with himself and more 'direct' in dealing with his issues. I'm stepping back. I won't deceive him about the ugliness within him if he doesn't want me to. He's on his own."

Ouch. Not the best mission for his ego. But if he agreed he got revealed. Thomas would see him. Thomas would know him.

"DEAL!" He hopped from foot to foot. "I need to prepare! I'll be on my worst behavior, you can count on me!"

"I always know i can."

Bullshit. A clear lie, but Remus felt it was best not to antagonize Deceit while he was prone to changing his mind.

"They sing right?! I'm gonna write a song!" He immediatly started brainstorming, an introduction, everything he wanted Thomas to know about him.

Deceit sighed. "You dont have to write-"

"I will! I'm writing a song and it'll be better than anything Roman has ever sang! Anything anyone has ever sang! Watch me! If I can get Thomas sleep deprived, I could probably force them all into nightmare mode! Choreographed! It's going to be CHOREOGRAPHED!" He twirled excitedly, squealing with delight, his frills flying up in a tornado of sparkles.

"Don't lose sight of why you're there. Convince him that you need to be hidden, don't let yourself or anyone else distract you."

"Yeah yeah, I get it- OH I get to stand in Roman's spot don't I?! And I can GET RID of him from said spot?!"

"Yes, but don't get distracted!"

"I won't OKAY?! I'll do my disgusting, smelly, loud, ugly thing okay?! But let me have fun! That's where I thrive!"

Deceit paused before nodding. "I can not argue with that. You'll need to set up the conversation. I promise-" Deceit held his hands up to prove his fingers weren't crossed. "-that I won't work to repress you tonight. Say whatever you'd like, don't let anyone stop you. Wear them down."

Easy for him to say, he'd never had to continue a train of thought while being attacked from all sides, feeling like his brain was about to explode. But Remus could take it. It sounded like a lot of fun, an opportunity to have Thomas think his thoughts for a whole night rather than a minute or two. He had some ideas and opinions to share anyway.

"That whole wedding situation is pretty fucked up isn't it?"

Deceit groaned. "Tell me about it."

"What if instead of worrying about their feelings..." He twisted his moustache in consideration. "We stab both Lee and Mary-Lee twenty-three times each in the chest and leave them to bleed out in the bathtub?"

Deceit cringed. "That would do it. Talk their ears off about that. Remember, the point is that I won't be involved. Traumatize to your little blackened heart's content."

Remus nodded. "Got it." He thought a moment. "Holy shit, I get THEME MUSIC don't I?!"

Deceit pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just... go do your thing."

"Aye-Aye!"

Remus spent the rest of the night up until Thomas went to bed writing his song, practicing his social skills, warming up his voice, making sure he was as entertainingly unlikable as possible. Sure he had to do Deceit's dirty work, but he wanted Thomas to understand him, in whatever way he could be understood. And he would be loud.

Loud for Thomas to hear.

6/28/19

Deceit pounded on the door. "Remus come on! Tell me what happened up there!"

Remus curled in his crumb and stain-ridden bed, exhausted. He groaned and unlocked the door with a flip of his wrist. Deceit slithered in, artfully dodging all the slimy and sharp things strewn across the floor; bear traps, the occasional boar dropping, etcetera.

"So? It clearly didn't go well."

"I dunno scales-for-sale, didn't it? I wasn't paying attention, you can have the honor of telling me cause I'm unsure."

"Well it didn't go my way."

"Nothing ever does, huh?" Remus smirked. He took some solace in someone other than himself having so much trouble with the others. He smacked his lips loudly. "My mouth tastes like deodorant..."

Deceit rolled his eyes. "Good for you. I'm so jealous."

"I know right?!"

"So what did you do wrong?" He squinted accusingly. Remus gasped, offended.

"Who's to say I did anything wrong?!"

"It was a pretty damn simple task! Be yourself, annoy and horrify everyone in your general vicinity!"

"Maybe they're all just amazingly difficult! You can vouch for that cant you?"

Deceit huffed. "I suppose that's believable... who threw it off then?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Logan. Dull one with the star fetish?"

"I'm aware who Logan is."

Remus layed his head back and threw his hands up. "He convinced Thomas that I'm irrelevant! That my contributions are nothing, that they don't mean anything to him! To IGNORE me!"

Deceit considered. "So how did that fail me in my efforts?"

"He convinced Thomas that repression doesn't work, that intrusive thoughts don't mean anything and that if he let them pass on without beating himself up about them, or without Patton and Virgil beating him up, that he'd be healthier! Just ignore me is what he said!"

Deceit growled, only succeeding in pacifying himself by taking a long breath in through his nose. "Okay then. Plan C."

"Easy for you to just move right along! My life is ruined! Thomas will never consider anything I say again! If I try to say anything he'll just brush me off! Without stopping, without sweating, without panicking, without trying to-" Remus stopped. He'd forgotten to consider. "...Without trying to... REPRESS me..." He felt his spirits rise, felt his hopes shoot up like fireworks, crackling warm and explosive in his chest. He bolted upright.

"Okay, you go do your Plan C, I have an experiment to conduct!"

Deceit left the room deep in thought. "Mhm just don't set anything on fire this time..."

Remus grinned and jumped out of bed. He sprinted up to the main area. Patton and Virgil were already there, assisting Thomas in helping a friend clean some gutters. His friend was on a ladder, a tippy, terrifying ladder. Patton was praising Thomas for holding the ladder steady while Virgil was passionately explaining the repercussions of failing to do so. Being jailed for manslaughter and the like.

Remus popped up between them, startling them both to momentary screams before they recognized him.

"Remus!" Patton crossed his arms. "Give a little warning at least!

"Hey! Mind if I sneak a few words in? Good! Me neither!" He ducked under Patton and Virgil's attempts to keep him back. "We're all friends here now, right? No need for all that! Just saying my piece. my worthless piece as Mr. Peabuddy would call it!"

Virgil was staring daggers at him but backed off. Patton was a bit more hesitant, but complied.

"See? We're getting along like nobody's business!" Remus beamed at the lack of force needed to find a good spot. He cleared his throat.

"SHAKE HIM OFF THE LADDER AND DELIGHT IN THE CRUNCH OF HIS SHATTERING BONES!"

Remus braced himself. He looked from Virgil to Patton, both their faces drawn taut and restrained and their hands balled into white-knuckled fists. They weren't scolding him. And it didn't hurt. No headache, no stomach turning, no sharp stabbing pains. He reached for his bangs. His unchanged, just as grey as before bangs. His breath caught in his throat. Just when he thought it couldn't get any better:

"Remus, bud, could you calm down?" Thomas mumbled under his breath. Remus froze. His name. That was his name. Thomas knew him. Thomas heard him, and Thomas let him speak. "You don't have to yell, you know. I'm not doing that anyway so save your voice. I can hear you just fine."

Remus blinked. Should he respond?

"But if I don't yell... how will I KNOW you can hear me?"

"Nobody's talking over you now are they?"

Remus fell silent. He looked back at Virgil and Patton, neither of whom were trying to drown him out. Thomas seemed to take that as his cue to stop talking to himself. Remus took a few hesitant steps backward and let the other two take back their places. Thomas hadn't done what he suggested. He hadn't stopped, or panicked, or begun to sweat. By all means this was the last thing Remus had told himself that he'd want. But he'd been heard. He'd been HEARD. And he hadn't been punished for it. He was part of Thomas, according to Thomas. Maybe not how he'd pictured it, but it felt so wonderful. It was a wonderful thing to be. With his experiment concluded, he stumbled absentmindedly back down the hall, lost in thought. He bumped into Roman halfway down, throwing him off gaurd. He conjured an array of weapons as reflex upon identifying his obstacle. Roman drew his sword.

"Wicked twin of mine, we meet again!"

"Aw, I love this little back and forth we've got! We're such a cute pair." Remus sharpened back into normality. With a snap he arranged his weapons onto a colorful lottery wheel. "Take a spin, pick me a winner, I'm not partial to any one of these goodies!"

Roman grabbed Remus's shoulder instead, an unsettlingly familial gesture that Remus wasn't quite accustomed too. The wheel vanished, leaving the weapons to clatter to the ground before they too vanished one by one. Roman sheathed his sword. He sighed.

"Wait, while I've got you here, I've been meaning to talk to you... well it wasn't my choice really, but Joan and Thomas have been planning this new song, about a gay Disney prince?"

Remus clapped his fingertips, responding in a cheery tone: "Oh how exciting! Fuck you! I thought we agreed that you don't get to let me in on these things if you don't ever plan on letting me help! What a fun fun example of something I'd theoretically adore! I'll kill you! Not even going to hesitate!" He summoned a dagger into his hand.

"I know, I know, calm down a sec Trashley Olsen! That's the point."

"Hm?" Remus lowered his weapon.

"Thomas wanted me to..." Roman groaned. "This project, there are bits where he wants to go a bit less family friendly. Since yesterday he's been considering being more... ADULT in his content. To 'challenge his viewership' as you put it. So..." Roman avoided eye contact.

Remus let the dagger fall to the floor, unconsciously leaning forward in anticipation. This had to be a joke. He couldn't possibly mean... "So...?"

Roman took a deep, frustrated breath. "So we're working on a project. Together. For the channel."

Remus nearly blacked out. He was suddenly on his knees without any memory of falling, his face was suddenly wet and salty without memory of how. He was shaking, and crying, and so, SO incredibly happy.

"Woah, woah, woah!" He felt Roman grab his shoulders, knelt in front of him though Remus could hardly see through the watery euphoria. "What's going on?"

"Twist my arm why dontcha?!" Remus broke into a fit of giggles, slumping against Roman. Roman rubbed the back of his shoulder awkwardly, unsure of how to react, which only made Remus laugh harder.

"So you're in? Or..." Roman tried to discreetly pull away, only to be restrained in a bundle of tentacles.

"I AM, TO INFINITE AND UNIMAGINABLE EXTENTS, IN!" He lifted Roman off the ground and twirled him about before tossing him back off in the direction of his room. He sprinted, twirled and danced merrily back to his own room, passing Deceit on the way, nearly barreling into him.

"What's gotten into you?!"

Remus gripped his bangs and called back to him: "LIFE!"

He cannonballed onto his bed, unfurling into an exhausted starfish. Life. New life. Creativity. Not Intrusive Thoughts, not Bad Creativity, but CREATIVITY. He finally had a job, a purpose, an outlet. And he could be as loud as he wanted. But maybe the best part was that he didn't NEED to be loud anymore. Whether or not he would ever be quiet again remained to be seen, but right then, just to know the fact that he could speak, converse, WHISPER, and be HEARD... it was a wonderful thought to think.

#remus sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #angst #creatwins

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spellcastersjudgement · 6 years

Note

hmmm 22 with hornets?

this was the baby froot’s second favorite ship growing up (fusionship was the otp at the time) so i am always am happy to contribute hornetshipping to the fandom

#22: a kiss in a rush of adrenaline

“Crowler is such an ass for doing this.”

Bastion, though not given to speaking ill of professors, was inclined to agree. “Being promoted to Chancellor has certainly inflated his ego beyond repair,”

Alexis leaned her elbows on the seat in front of her, the freshman occupant nervously looking over their shoulder and scooting forward in the chair. The arena buzzed with anticipation, everyone speculating on who would be dueling in the first official match of the year. Bastion remembered being in Jaden’s dorm room, listening to him talk about the party in their room tonight, the ‘squad’ as Jaden was so fond of calling it, planning to squeeze into their broom closet of a room and drink until the sun came up. Chazz had busted down the door, looking even more irate than usual, screaming about being roped into a duel with some snot-nosed, wet-behind-the-ears freshmen that were clearly beneath The Chazz.

Bastion thought it was all rather adorable. When the black-haired boy was angry–more than his constant simmer of anger, because if it was the default state was it really worth mentioning?–he blushed the lightest shade of pink and spit out swear words that weren’t words per se, but left no one in any doubt of the sentiment behind them. When Bastion had dueled Chazz freshman year, had been on the receiving end of one of those rages, it was impossible to take him seriously.

He was just too cute.

“If Zane were here still Crowler would’ve pulled his ass into publicity stunts instead of actually teaching him,” Alexis laughed, rolling her eyes, picking at her nails. “We’re the top dueling school in the world, why do we need all of this publicity?”

“Perhaps the fact our academic programs are gaining more attention than our dueling program,”

“Well fuck, that’s good isn’t it, B?” Alexis snorted. “I’m tired of friends from high school getting up my ass about going to Card Game College,”

“I don’t disagree. Remember who’s in charge here though,” Bastion watched as the seats filled. It was obvious who was a freshman because they sorted themselves into clumps of color, unaware that the dorm hierarchy was little more than a formality to most people. “Chazz will certainly provide a good show, no doubt. That’s why Crowler must have picked him,”

Though Chazz Princeton claimed to be no-nonsense, his theatrics when it came to, well everything in his life, belied him. The yelling, the trash-talking, the self-given nicknames, the chant–all perfect for the new chancellor’s half-baked plan to bring press to Duel Academy, not to mention his family name always raised eyebrows and turned heads. And Chazz, for all of his ranting that this was “totally lame,” had parked himself in front of the toothpaste-spattered mirror, stole Jaden’s hairbrush, and after painstakingly ridding it of what he called “Slacker DNA,” preened in front of the mirror, making sure every strand of his hair in place.

“Stupid, stupid Crowler,” he’d muttered, picking at a pimple on his cheek despite Bastion’s insistence he should leave it alone. “He doesn’t–he doesn’t even know what fucking cameras to use, which side is my good side! I bet he didn’t even get a real opponent,”

Bastion, though he barely was able to reign in the impulse, did not take the opportunity to tell Chazz he looked exquisite from any side.

Pining was a strange feeling, Bastion reflected as Chazz sprayed himself with air freshener. Or rather, he held his arms out and instructed Jaden to spray him, turning in place, smelling more like alcohol than Pumpkin Spice but better than anything else in the dorm. His black coat swished as he turned, and Bastion enjoyed the way his eyes fell closed, the way he stood up onto his tiptoes to twirl, akin to a sarcastic dueling Disney princess, not that Chazz would appreciate the comparison. Bastion had felt bad as soon as the thought crossed his mind, but he chalked it up to the fact the brain chemicals that caused one to feel ‘love’ were messing with him.

Those same chemicals were causing his heart to beat faster and excitement to bubble up as Chazz, or The Chazz as he so preferred, strutted into the duel arena, chin held high and his typical scowl on his face. On the other side of Alexis, he could hear Jaden leading the cheer of “Chazz it up,” finding himself soon cheering as well. The group of freshmen in the row in front of them looked over their shoulders, sharing confused glances with each other at how the majority of the student body seemed to know the chant.

“Look at that,” Alexis stopped chanting to lean over to Bastion and point at the person walking in to the other side of the duel arena. “He’s so small–is he really old enough to be at college?”

“Syrus is only five foot two, it’s not unheard of,”

“Syrus also gets handed the kids menu when we go out,” Alexis said. “And at least Syrus got the proper uniform size. That kid’s drowning in his damn trenchcoat,”

Bastion only ever seen three people wear Obelisk blue trenchcoats in his time at the academy, and one of them had swapped theirs out for a ratty black one that had gotten him in trouble several times before the professors realized he could give a flying fuck about the dress code. Zane and Atticus, the top students at the school before their graduation this past spring, had made trenchcoats synonymous with high level dueling ability, which was ridiculous because they had never set out to do that. Bastion could attest, as the number-one ranked student (academically, that is, Jaden was the best for dueling of course), that a trenchcoat would not have helped him. And it certainly wasn’t doing any favors for this runt of an opponent, who was surreptitiously looking down at his feet, making sure he didn’t step on the hem.

“Chazz it the fuck up!” Jaden jumped up, waving around a Duel Academy water bottle that most certainly did not contain water.

The Chazz saw his roommate–actually, plural now because Syrus was leaning heavily against Jaden’s side, taking a sip from the same water bottle and slurring the words of the cheer–sticking up his middle finger with a glare so intense Bastion would’ve shrunk under it. Jaden laughed, of course, and Syrus shouted obscenities that Bastion never thought he would hear out of his mild-mannered friend.

“Sit down, you slackers,”

The phrase was so distinctly Chazz that Bastion was surprised the vice chancellor was now speaking, his voice booming through the microphone, contrasting his small size. He was also wearing a trenchcoat. Bastion would have to write some formula detailing the height of a person (or lack thereof) and how likely they were to wear such a ridiculous thing.

Chazz would be excluded from this formula, of course, because Bastion was almost as fond of his coat as he was of Chazz. He couldn’t have his feelings taint his findings.

“The trash-talking is limited to the participants. If certain members of the audience can’t keep their mouths shut for the duration of the duel, I will personally see they are punished,” Bonaparte continued, nearly tripping over the cord of the microphone.

Jaden and Syrus sat down, but that didn’t stop Syrus from much more quietly saying choice words.

Whatever was in that bottle, Bastion might need to ask for some.

“Welcome to our first official match of the school year: Chazz Princeton versus incoming freshman Reginald Van Howell–the only freshman to make it in to Obelisk blue this year and the pride of his dueling prep school!”

“That just means he’s a carbon copy of Chazz at the beginning of last year,” Alexis rolled her eyes and crossed her legs, leaning back in her seat like she was already bored. “Chazz is gonna wipe the floor with this little shit,”

“He better,” Jaden popped in. “if he loses I owe the guy down the hall a hundred bucks,”

“You don’t have a hundred dollars to your name, Jay,” Alexis said.

“All the more reason for Chazzy-Spazzy to win,” Jaden said, tipping more of god-knows-what type of alcoholic beverage down his throat. “That’s gonna be our beer money for tonight,”

This time last year before he knew how incorrigible Jaden Yuki was, Bastion would have admonished him for betting money he didn’t have. He didn’t waste his breath this time. “If Chazz wins, be sure to buy the higher-quality liquor from your supplier,”

“Bastion, why do you always have to make it sound like I’m buying heroin or something? Also I totally will because I don’t wanna hear his constant bitching tonight,” Jaden sat back in his seat. “Duel’s starting, duel’s starting–here’s hopin’ I didn’t just fuck us all over tonight!”

Chazz drew his first card, and Bastion was hopeful as well. Hopeful that Chazz would win not so Jaden wouldn’t land himself in trouble with whoever was this year’s designated bookie for the Slifer dorm, though it would be preferable for their alcohol fund to increase by a hundred dollars, but so he could see the elusive Happy Chazz, akin in rarity to Bigfoot. He would smile, a genuine one, not a sarcastic or mischevious smile that Bastion also loved, and he would laugh and not complain about Jaden hugging him and sometimes, just sometimes when Bastion would congratulate him, the black haired boy would say ‘thanks, Bas.’ That nickname, which was used my all members of the friend group (with the exception of Alexis who could never get a picture of a fish out of her mind when she heard it), sounded different coming from Chazz, made his heart swell and his brain short-circuit, and he would be lying if he said he weren’t desperate to hear it.

The duel was a quick one. Jaden only had time to make it through three cycles of “Chazz It Up” before Reginald’s life points hit zero, the freshman looking like his parents had just been murdered in front of him given the horror on his face at losing to a Slifer. Bastion rather enjoyed watching freshmen learn that the colors one wore didn’t always directly correlate to their dueling abilities, but he was now more focused on following his friends out of the crowd to get to Chazz, congratulate him on his victory, and maybe, just maybe satisfy his selfish desires to see Chazz smile.

Jaden and Syrus were already embracing Chazz from both sides, laughing and wobbling on inebriated legs, Jaden shouting that he was buying them Goose tonight and Chazz agreeing with him instead of shoving him off. Alexis shooed them off of Chazz long enough to give him a one-armed hug.

Chazz hadn’t seemed to notice Bastion yet. As the Ra stepped toward him, ready to offer his own congratulations, the black-haired boy looked over toward him, his eyes widening the slightest bit as he ducked out of Alexis’s hold, closing the distance between them, smiling. Bastion was confused for a moment, his words never making it out as the Slifer’s arms closed around his neck, lips smashing ungracefully against his.

Bastion had not even allowed himself to fantasize about kissing Chazz. He had only recently come to terms with the fact he’d been pining for the better part of a year, and it would probably take until graduation for him to allow himself to consider the possibility that Chazz would return his feelings. Now, as Chazz’s arms tightened around his neck, his lips moving against Bastions, skinny frame pressed against Bastion’s muscular one, he had to consider the possibility that he was hallucinating. It was possible that something in Jaden’s dorm room had been left over the summer and rotted to the point toxic fumes were permeating the space, infecting his brain.

Determined to see if he was hallucinating, Bastion forced his arms to relax the slightest bit from how they’d been tensed up in surprise, he hugged the black-haired boy to his chest, squeezing the slightest bit too tightly on accident, a gasp breaking the kiss as Chazz caught his breath.

They were both standing there, in the middle of the duel arena, with hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at them.

“Uh, um–good job,” Bastion said eloquently.

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Chazz said, face bright pink, the remnants of a smile on his face.

“God fucking damn it!”

The shout came from somewhere to Bastion’s left. An irate Slifer boy at the top of the stadium seats shouted again. “Do you know how much fucking money you cost all of us?”

“You bitches owe me twenty-five dollars apiece!” Jaden laughed, nearly falling over.

Chazz’s face went from serene to incensed, pushing away from Bastion to chew out Jaden for placing bets on his love life.

At least they’d have even more money to spend on the party tonight.

#prussian-lullaby #asks #the froot is incapable of writing anything short whoops #hornetshipping #gotta stick that sageship brotp in there #also gotta get in my jaden yuki shenanigans because i have a lot of thoughts about him regarding tomfoolery #get all of ur drunk jaden needs here

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casual-lip-bites · 7 years

Text

Prologue and Chapter 1

To Everyone in the Whole World. Every small thought or action or choice every single person has ever made has warped the universe into what it is now, and for that I thank you.

Prologue I bet you thought that this was going to be an insightful book or something. Well, you were wrong. This book really sucks. No one thought it would ever get published, much less finished. Not even my mom believed in me. But as I kept writing it, I thought of all the stupid teen romance books I’ve read and thought, hey, if those could get published, why can’t I publish a book too? So I’m really sorry if you decided to buy this or something. I hope you kept the receipt, because in truth, my book probably isn’t worth the five dollars or however much it cost you. Not in this economy. Unless, of course, you borrowed it or got it from the library or illegally downloaded it online or something. I hate writing. My vocabulary is passible at best. I never thought that I would write a book, like, ever, but look at me now. Just to let you know, I did not write this whole thing. I had help from my best friend and a Mexican kid who has told me multiple times that he wishes I was dead. These are literally the only people I ever talk to. I’m warning you right now: I don’t know what they’re going to write. Personally, I’m going to try to be PG-13, but I’ve been told that have a swearing problem, so that’s not always going to be possible. You know it’s bad when you have to Google “what does it take for a book to be banned”. It’s right there in my search history. Right above “why are teenagers so smug” and “when can I legally drop-out of high school”. Nothing really matters to me anymore. I’m just here to exist for as long as possible. I don’t like putting effort into anything, really. College is out of the question. I mean, someone has to wipe down gas station toilets. I only agreed to write this novel because there’s not too many realistic YA novels out there. Not everyone can have their dream relationship. (I’m going to marry a trashcan.) Not everything ends happily, and sometimes things don’t end at all. (My story begins at the end.) I never really have any deep thoughts. (At least, not in the way that it’s shown in teen books.) And most teenagers have boring-as-hell lives. (Either that, or I just assume that everyone else does too.) Really though, the deepest thought that I’ve had in a week happened when I dropped a bowl of soup and thought “oh shit son” and then wondered if soup has the ability to understand the concept of gender identity and family relations. Truly deep thoughts come and go. It’s usually only the stupid things that I remember long enough to write down. I’m just going to go ahead and warn you, some of the insightful stuff I try to write comes out like it’s supposed to, and other times it will just look like: boop boop boop Are trees vegetables? Exact words are not my forte. I’m lucky that I came up with “forte” right then. I’m really not sure how this will turn out at all. I haven’t even read most of this. I’m not allowed to read what Lily and Ethan write, and they’re not allowed to read what I write. We’re basically publishing it without proofreading each other’s work. It’s supposed to “encourage honesty” or something. So we’ll see how that turns out. Yeah. There’s probably a reason why books like this don’t exist. Again, sorry. Anyway, I wrote this for you because I care a lot about you as a person. I needed this book to exist because I need you to know something. I don’t care if it’s cheesy. You need to hear it. Things can and will get better. Do not kill yourself. I wrote this for you, so you’d better learn something from it. I have bled and suffered and bled some more to get this book out. If you kill yourself, I will murder you. Someone is always ready to listen. Sometimes we forget about people we can count on. There’s always that one person that you forget about. Like siblings. No matter how much you hate each other, no matter how horrible to you they are, no matter how shitty the personality, your sibling(s) will listen to you if you seriously need someone to talk to. Another thing I didn’t consider, until just recently, is talking to someone who has a crush on you. If they like you, chances are they probably don’t want you to hurt yourself. However, if he/she is one of those freaks that crawl in your window at night or design you-inspired sex dolls, you should probably think of another option. Like a guidance counselor. They’re legally obligated to care about your feelings. Don’t forget those people. Someone will listen. There’s always someone. I know this because I was forgotten. Wait, what was I writing about again? I have a really untraditional writing system. I first write out a bunch of BS that I really can’t use and then scan over it the next day. I delete little sentences that don’t make sense here and there until I’ve deleted the whole chapter. Then I re-write it and then ignore it all for a month or two if I’m getting behind on schoolwork or something. Sometimes in the middle of the night I take it out, read it, and type little scraggly messages on it to daytime me. They look like they were typed out by a toddler. I can’t even tell what most of them are supposed to mean, so I spend a lot of time trying to decode things like “bread water” instead of writing the actual story. My favorites are: “com on grill u cans rite better than that” and “higher than meth”. Oh yeah. I also hate it when authors get you attached to a character and kill them off right at the end like they’re actually trying to ruin your emotions forever, so I’m going to go ahead and warn you now so you hate me less for making you read this book. My sister dies in the first chapter. No amount of character deaths in YA books could have prepared me for what had happened. That’s another reason why I needed this book to exist. The suddenness and finality of death is unreal. It’s kind of like a text message ding going off and then the sound cutting out right in the middle of it. And then a random electrical wire snapping and burning and suddenly everything’s on fire and you’re on fire and your pets are on fire and it’s painful and even though you embrace death and dying and enjoy pain this is too much. Another thing: You’re probably wondering what gender I am. Even if it wasn’t at, like, the fore-front of your mild, you were probably subconsciously trying to figure it out. I won’t make you play “Guess That Gender” until my name appears in dialogue or something. This isn’t Walmart. My name is Kirsten Bloom. I also hate it when authors write shit like “his dark, leaf green eyes looked at me, comforting me and giving me memories of summery afternoon walks in the woods with my father” to describe how people look. Like, no. My face isn’t the type of face that could be described in poetry anyway. So here’s what I look like most of the time: I have brown hair. I would have black hair, but my mom won’t let me dye it. I have washed-out green eyes. I’m pale. I dress kind of gothic. (Eyeliner, 90’s choker, black leather boots, black lipstick, black/purple shirt, black skinny-jeans, black jacket with a skull on it.) My style is basically “economically disadvantaged girl trying to act cool and gothic but failing hard”. Just so you know, I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to write this just yet, but I’m sure that it will be really horrible for at least the first two or three chapters. I’m sorry about that, but believe me; it will be so worth it. If you’re anything like me at all, I guarantee that this book will save you from some shit. I have one hell of a story to tell you. And so it begins.

Chapter 1 Katherine Bloom is dead. She killed herself. I can’t believe that she’s never coming back. She was alive just a week ago. She can’t be gone. But she is. Her death is one thing that I have accepted. Once a person is pronounced dead by medical professionals, there’s no way around it. But my heart feels like it’s been ripped to pieces. She was my other half. I never fully comprehended how awful deaths are until I saw my sister on a cold, metallic operating table, her lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. Seeing nurses in lab coats covering her thin frame in a sheet, gone forever. Watching my mother choke and sob in front of me. Not being completely sure if the screaming sound I heard was coming from my vocal cords or if it was just the sound of my brain collapsing in on itself. After three days of pure depression sprinkled with rage and denial, I know that my little sister is never coming back. Death is permanent. Death is unshifting. Death is cold. And I don’t love. [I warned you it would be like this. Just roll with it.] It’s as if she never existed, except she’s more here than ever. I can actually feel her absence. It’s heavy and empty at the same time, especially in her room. All of the Christmas lights that she always kept in there have been packed away into a little box, just like all of her other things. Mom said earlier that we could donate it to charity, but she hasn’t followed through on that. I have a feeling that her things will stay here forever. My little sister will always have a place in our house. But right now her room is mine. I’ve been sleeping here since I basically smashed everything in my room into a trillion pieces. It has a depressive presence in it, though. This place is so empty without her. I spend most of my time in here drawing invisible circles on her bed that’s been stripped bare, and think. She slept on rosy red sheets, which are now packed away in a box. It was her favorite color. Now her ashes rest in a rosy red urn. It was originally for grandma. We were hoping that she would die. I really wonder about what my sister was thinking about during the afternoons that she spent locked away in here, wasting away. A lump grows in my throat, but I can’t even cry anymore. I’m just done with it all. I still haven’t figured out why she would kill herself. No matter how many things I try to decode from days I can barely remember, I’m no further along than the previous hour. She wasn’t a depressing person. She smiled a lot. She had lots of friends. The only thing that was different about her attitude was that she stayed in her room for extremely long periods of time, listening to music. I didn’t find that alarming, because that was one of her favorite pastimes. Only she usually did it for less than five hours at a time in a locked room. I thought that she was just becoming one of those teenaged girls who like to keep to themselves. Like me. I guess it was more than that. And now she’s dead. I put my head down on the flat bedspread. I am determined to find out the truth. I need to know the truth more than I need oxygen. Someone rings the doorbell. What the hell do they want? I force myself out of bed and trudge over to the front door and open it. My heart starts fluttering and I just can’t believe my eyes. It’s Katherine. She smiles at me and I hug her so tightly that I just might kill her. I’m shaking so hard right now. “I missed you so much. Please don’t hurt yourself. Ever,” I say. When I stop hugging her, I see that she too is tearing up. There’s a bright glow around her. She starts to say something, when- And then I wake up. My sister is dead. And I’m still lying on her bed. I just dreamed it all. I’m ashamed to say that that was not the first time that I had done that. There’s nothing I want more than for my sister to come back. But she’s gone. All that’s left are bittersweet memories. Ashes can’t dance. Ashes can’t sing. Ashes can’t ride bikes. Ashes can’t feed birds in the park. Ashes can’t sit under the stars and watch them twinkle all night. Ashes can’t smile or love. They can’t do any of the things that my sister loved to do. I know for a fact that she didn’t just randomly decide to kill herself. No sane kid just looks in the mirror and goes: Hey. Today was a fun day, but I think that I should just hang myself now. She is, was, a very cheerful person. I secretly envied her for that reason. She was great. We had near perfect childhoods, but for some reason she was the only decent one out of us. The only conclusion that I can come up with is that she was bullied. And once I find out who caused this, I will kill them. All of those bastards are going to die tonight. I’ll stab them over and over and over and over and over and over and over again with the pocket knife she harmed herself with, after I make absolute sure that they feel guilty for their actions. Blood will be spilt tonight. And I hope those faggots rot in hell. I found her pocket knife in her bedroom closet yesterday, when mom and I were cleaning out her room. We were deciding what of hers we should keep and what we should ‘’give away”. We were just expecting to find old toys and stuff like that. Then I found that thing. Actually, it really wasn’t that hard to find. It stabbed me in the kneecap. I gave mom the knife. I didn’t give any explanation at all. The knife said more than any words could say. Apparently, that was a bad idea, because she didn’t say anything after that. She just got in the car and left me there, holding out the bloody knife. Now, that said more than words could say. For a wild moment I thought that she had abandoned me to start a new life. Wouldn’t be the first time someone did that. Apparently, mom went to the liquor store to drown her feelings in alcoholism. But she might as well leave, with all the support she’s given me. It’s like her soul was sucked out of her eyes. I hid the blade in my jacket pocket the minute she left Katherine’s room, assuming that she would take it from me eventually. But she never intended to, for reasons that I already covered. Katherine was just a kid. What did she do to deserve this? What did I do? There’s no way that she hung herself. But she did. She left mom and me. She didn’t leave a note or anything. There was no warning. It just happened. Everything reminds me of her. I’ll have to get used to it, considering the fact that I live here. I shut my eyes. I hate everything in this house, especially the mirror, which I can’t stand to look into. My face isn’t my face anymore. It’s Katherine’s: the same Katherine who was hanging by her neck in the bathroom, staring at me blankly. My make-up probably looks really runny and shitty. I decide to brave looking in the mirror. I look for only half a second, and then shut my eyes. My chest feels heavy. I lose my breath. When I say I can’t stand how I look, I mean it literally. Anyway, my eyeliner looks how I thought it would look. I look like a raccoon going through a gothic phase. I’m never going to heal if I stay here. Sometimes I just think about getting in the truck and leaving home forever. Like in every non-supernatural YA novel ever. But then my mom would have no one, except her liquor. Sometimes I think if I got drunk maybe I could experience whatever magical delusional feeling she’s experiencing, but I come from a long line of people who ruined their lives with alcohol, so I’m not going to take that chance. I am the generation that finally gets it right. I smoke instead. I strip off my jacket (aka security blanket) for the first time all day and walk right out the back door. The night air feels warm and cool at the same time. Crickets are chirping. The wind feels amazing. I’ve always preferred night-time. Usually in the summer I change up my sleep schedule where I wake up at 3:00pm and go to sleep at 5:00am so I can mostly stay up at night, but still do stuff with friends in the afternoon. Plus, going out and doing whatever at night means that there’s zero chance of getting sunburned, and everyone’s asleep, so it’s like I live in my own little world. It’s just me and the sky. I’ve decided to not do that this year, because I need as much stability as I can get. I get out my lighter and cup my hand around it. The flickering flame illuminates the cigarette just before I light it. Contrary to popular belief, smoking is actually a great way to cope. First of all, it’s fun. Second, I can get a nice buzz going without losing my mental facilities, and not just because I lost it all beforehand. Third, you get to light things on fire. That’s always fun. And fourth, you can slowly kill yourself by doing it. Then I’ll die slightly after my mom so she won’t have to outlive both kids. Drag. Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Exhale. Repeat. Drag. Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Exhale. Repeat. Drag. Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Hold it in. Exhale. Repeat. I got these from a place some of my friends call “the tube”. I found it by accident a couple months ago. It’s where all the drug-addicted teens at my school hide their drugs and alcohol. They’ve apparently created their own complex mini-black market. I used to be friends with some of them, but now they’ve turned into bitches. Not from drugs; just from being themselves. I would tell you where the tube is, but I promised not to tell. We made a deal. If it was stuff like meth I would report it, but why ruin my joy of having all those people owe me? When I wanted some of their cigarettes, the deal got that much more complicated. I had to make a little trade. You see, in the tube, there’s something they always need. It’s worth its weight in gold, and it’s the same color. It’s pee. They love pee. They have to like it, if they still want to keep their drugs. Each person that trades there keeps a small plastic bag of clean pee on them at all times in case of random drug testing at school. Clean pee is hard to come by for them, though, because mostly everyone who knows about the tube is high as fuck on all the drugs, and therefore do not have clean pee. I am their source of security. I agreed to trade with them. One gallon of pee buys two packs of cigarettes. I think it’s a fair trade. What would I do with all my pee anyway? A car zips down the road. The wind and dust hit my face a few seconds later. I gag and spit out the dust. Smoking by the road really isn’t safe, but at this point in the game, I really don’t care if I die. Actually, I care just enough to live just so I don’t inconvenience others. I wish I could end it all sooner. Ever since the suicide I sometimes notice my breathing and go: why? Why did she die instead of me? I’m not going to rush anything, but if I got hit by a school bus tomorrow, I don’t think that I would really care at all. My stomach jolts in a funny sort of way. Tomorrow is the last day of school. I hate school, but I always miss it when it’s gone. Sure, it’s shitty and stuff, but it does provide stability. I need to go back, even if it only is one last day. School will hopefully bring something normal back into my life. It will also give me a chance to spend time with my friends before summer break, if you can even call them friends. They’re basically just the people I hang out with at lunch so I don’t look stupid sitting alone. They seem to like me enough to tolerate me, which is nice, I guess. Those people are very, um, interesting. First of all, there’s Molly. She’s the smartest person at our school. Everyone wants to be her friend. She helps people she likes with their homework and stuff. After spending so much time around people who are brown-nosing her, I forgot the stereotype about nerds having no friends. I honestly have no idea where that came from, because at my school, we treat the smart people like royalty because we depend on them for, like, not failing. There’s this kid named Jacob who also sits at my table. His stupid hairstyle has not changed in sixteen years. He’s strange and vaguely fucked-up, but I guess we all are to some degree. He gives off a weird sexual vibe, but not really a rapist/child molester one. It’s softer and seems more obscure, like maybe he’s sexually attracted to goats. I really should stop his description here. And then there’s Lily. She has the weirdest stories. I read one of them and my eyes nearly bled. It was a Twilight fanfiction in which the characters were all gangsters. Her face is always really flushed and she laughs at everything. Except when she’s on her period, which in that case she turns into the nastiest, loudest, bitchiest person you’ve ever met. A lot of weird shit happens at that table. My favorite was when we created a match.com profile for a burrito someone dropped on the ground. It was the most amazing thing in the world. “Burrito1230345 looking for a one-night stand. Bring candles, incense, and lots of lube.” Lily tried to reposition it so it would look as sexually suggestive as a burrito could possibly be, but she failed horribly. Jacob took over and did the job right in less than a minute. How he managed, no one knows. It all started when Jacob’s crush dropped the burrito on the ground as she walked to her table. Jacob started staring at it because, of course, he’s a freak. We started to joke with him about him wanting the burrito, because Jacob just has the kind of pervy face that makes him look like he wants to screw everything. He said that he didn’t want it. We felt bad for this little burrito, because not even Jacob would make love to it. Somehow, ten minutes later, we created a full profile for our burrito. Those were good times. I’ve laughed a lot a that table. I miss those little fuckers. I haven’t seen another human being besides the local news and the pee collectors in a week. The news people did a story on my sister’s suicide. I remember watching it. Our story was the second to last thing on there. The day before the news report, they interviewed Mom. That did not go over well. When they tried to talk to me, I turned away and walked into the house. I don’t need their sensationalistic crap in my life. I thought I was through with them, but then they entered my house WITHOUT PERMISSION and asked me “WHAT MY MOOD WAS”. Take a fucking hint. What did they think? Did they consider it a possibility that I was elated that my sister committed suicide? Did I look like I was jumping over rainbows and skipping through meadows or something? You know, this is why I am no longer considering journalism as my career. I now hate the media. This whole thing has really opened my eyes. They didn’t show either of the failed interviews, thank God. I will give them that. Even so, the newscasters had blank, empty faces when they were giving the report about the suicide. Then, not a moment later, they were smiling and talking about a baby animal that was born in the local zoo. It’s clear that they don’t really give a damn about anyone’s feelings. About a second before I fall asleep (I collapsed on the rocking chair we have outside), my mom pulls up into the driveway, back from her midnight run to the liquor store. She ran into our trashcan pretty hard. That’s just wonderful. She’s driving drunk. Actually, she’s probably not even drunk, but depressed slap-happy. It’s a good thing that I have my own car so I can drive to school without chicken bones flying off the hood. I got mom’s old one about three months ago after I got my driver’s license. I always hated the school bus. I’ve seen some shit there. Mom got a new Honda a year ago. She was supposed to get a used one. To be fair, Hondas aren’t the most expensive cars, but still. She’s going to run that thing in the ground if she keeps that up. I hope that the car insurance will cover the damage. But I have a really bad feeling that the car insurance is actually my college fund. Bye, college. Mom gets out of the car, kicking out some wine bottles in the process. I don’t really want to witness this. I snuff out my last cigarette and go inside. My lungs were starting to struggle anyway. I crash on the couch and quickly fall asleep, praying that my brain won’t force me to relive my sister’s death again like it usually does. I wake up at what feels like seconds later, but it is pitch black outside, and the sound of thousands of horny cicadas chirping is louder. I’m thirsty and covered in sweat. My dead sister didn’t revisit me again, so that’s a plus. Forcing myself off the couch, I get a glass of milk and put it in the microwave. My head spins, due to either the smoke, the alcohol smell coming from mom’s bedroom, or how fast I moved in a short amount of time, or all three. It takes me a minute notice Mom, in her room, passed out. I suddenly wish that microwaves had a “silent” option. Mom would never hurt me intentionally, but you know. After the infernal beeping sound ends, I quietly get the milk out and slowly trudge over to the table. I sit down, taking quiet sips from my glass. Mom herself said that it was unhealthy to have addictions. But here she is, passed out, wine running through her veins instead of life. I wish mom was happy again. I wish that she would go to work and pay attention to the last daughter she has left. But wishes are empty. We are not happy. It’s like we all died that awful night. In some ways, I did die. My dreams are rotting away. My sanity is hanging by a single string of skin. The better half of me is gone. I’m ripping apart at the seams. Emotional pain is probably the worst abstract concept ever. I would burn off my right hand to see my sister for one more day. I would walk across hell if it would give her one year on earth. I would die a thousand painful deaths to make her happy. If only I cared enough about her before the suicide. Forget walking across hell. I couldn’t even walk to her room. A lump grows in my throat. What sort of things did my sister experience? Does she still remember it? Whatever it was, I hope that she’s stopped suffering. I really hope she didn’t go to hell. She couldn’t have, though. She’s too pure. Everything is temporary. That’s just one harsh fact of life and the workings of the universe. However, it would have been nice if the universe was kind enough to allow my sister to be a little less temporary. I look at the pictures on the table. You know what’s funny? Family photos are funny. They’re like little windows into the past. It takes me back to when I dressed normally, Katherine was little and not dead, Dad was here and still loved my mom, we lived in this big house by a river, and life was generally just, like, better and stuff. It sickens me, the fact that the happy people in those pictures have no idea about what the future holds. I chug the rest of my milk, accidentally spilling half of it on the table and my chest. I’m not cleaning that shit up. Stretching, I quietly go back to my sister’s room and fall onto her bed. I stare at the ceiling fan and watch it spin around and round. Just like my brain. I shut my eyes. Rain lightly taps on our metal roof. How long was it raining? I tilt my head to look out Katherine’s window. Water falls gently upon the water-starved ground. It runs and runs until it finds a low area to rest in. Then the soil draws it in like a slow breath. My eyelids close once more and I focus on the rain and nothing else. A boom of thunder wakes me. Unfortunately, I’m the type that stays awake all night if I wake up. Now I’m alone with my thoughts. I’m just tired enough to not be able to grab my phone. I wish I could play some music to drown out my thoughts. My brain won’t shut the hell up. I’m being reminded of everything I’ve ever said or did with her. I miss my sister so much it actually physically hurts. I wish I killed myself instead of her. I really have no idea why she killed herself at all. I can’t think of any conversation or anything that could even slightly read as “suicidal”. She’s not even that good at keeping secrets. What am I missing here? Is it just really obvious or something? I’m so frustrated. She didn’t even leave a suicide note. I really wish she had. I mean, isn’t that something that you just do when you kill yourself? I mean, I guess there’s not really a rulebook or a protocol for that sort of thing, but yeah. I have to go to school tomorrow. Maybe that would help me sort out my thoughts. Maybe I can consult with Jacob and Lily and Molly and see if they might know anyone who can help me. I need to find out what happened to my sister. It just doesn’t make any sense at all. I wish I could just find something that would answer all of my questions just like that. It’s probably going to take a while to know the whole truth, but I will do everything it takes. Mark my words.

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ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[HR] Blood

I looked at my mother’s face as tears began to stream down her cheeks. I couldn’t understand why she was crying, so I asked.

“Because you’re a woman now, Janey...my baby girl, all grown up.”

She sniffled up some runaway snot, pushed herself off from the ground, kissed me on the forehead, and told me that she would be right back, as she had collection cups stored away in preparation for this particular day. Then suddenly I was alone. My legs dangled over the edge of the seat and I played with my toes as they just barely grazed over the cold tile floor. The doctor said I still had a few more years of growth left, which is good. I’m looking forward to the day where my heels can share the frigidness of the ground with my toes. Speaking of, I had been sitting for so long, I could feel the roundness of the porcelain seat beginning to form an imprint on my butt. I laughed at the thought. My eyes followed the tips of my toes all the way to my thighs. They looked so much larger from this angle and I suddenly felt as if every boy in the entire school were standing in this modest bathroom, making fun of these massive chunks of flesh protruding out from the bottom of my torso. I quickly dropped the thought before I could get too upset about it. I’ll get upset about it another time. Out of curiosity, I shifted my right leg, thighs, toes, and everything in between, away from its left-set counterpart and peered into the void between.

Oh my god.

“MOM!!”

After a few moments, the bathroom door swung open with an overwhelming force that knocked some of the almost-empty shampoo bottles off of the shelf and into the drum of the tub. At the source of the power stood mom, worry in eyes and Always brand collection cups in hand.

“What is it?!”

Now I was the one crying.

“Can you make it stop?”

Mom’s heavy breathing began to subside as she exhaled a small chuckle. She placed the colorful package held in her grip on the sink counter and bent down until her eyes evenly met mine.

“Honey, I can’t make it stop. It is never going to stop.”

She stroked my head. She would always do this when I was sick.

“What do you mean?”

“The day that your flow stops will be the day that you die. But that will not happen for many many years. Until then, it is your duty now as a woman to become an integral part of the survival of our species. The first one should be coming next week.”

“...Okay.”

I didn’t completely understand what she meant but I went along with it. I wanted her to know that I was a sophisticated woman now, just like her.

The first one’s name was Noah and he was 12, just like me. I remember hearing the knock at the door as I laid in bed. I had already flowed enough to fill three collection cups that sat on the dresser across the room. My door creaked open as mom brought the boy into my room.

“Is this your first time?” mom asked Noah.

He nodded his head.

“Are you going to collect yourself or do you want a pre-collected cup?”

“My dad said I’m not old enough to collect myself.”

“Ah yes, that’s okay. We have three cups filled, feel free to choose one.”

Noah walked over to the dresser across the room, not even acknowledging my existence. He carefully examined the three cups and selected the cup in the middle. Without saying another word, he walked out of the room with mom as she brought him to his father’s car, parked against the curb at the front of the house. Through the window I watched as Noah went into the car, unscrewed the lid off of the collection cup, and consumed the entirety of the contents. His father beamed as he pat Noah on the back before driving off.

My door creaked open again and it was mom.

“The first time is always done with a parent’s guidance. In the future it will be up to you,” she smiled, “I’m really proud of you, you know.”

That was all I needed.

The next time it happened I was 21. His name was Peter. I remember the bass of the speakers rattling my heartbeat and the dimness of the light making it difficult for me to see my way through the crowded college house. I held a non-collecting cup in my hand and periodically tipped it into my mouth, letting the warmth of the alcohol flow down my throat in a way that reminded me of the warmth flowing down my thighs into the collection cup tied just above my knee. Later that night, as I wobbled through the house looking for the door to leave, his hand slipped around my waist and guided me to an empty bedroom upstairs. My body was shoved onto the bed as he made his way to the zipper of my jeans. He slowly pulled them down, revealing my bare legs that I was so insecure of 9 years prior. I tried to protest, but the alcohol coursing through my veins subdued my vocal cords. I cried out, but with the strong vibrations of the speakers, I knew no one would hear.

His hands gripped around the collection cup that was not quite full yet and ripped it from my skin, the aggression burning my flesh. As he placed the small cylinder to his lips, I rammed my foot into his face, causing him to lose his hold. The contents splattered all over the walls and the floor as raged filled in Peter’s eyes. He seized both of my wrists and held them down against the bed as he moved downward and began to collect himself. His tongue traced around my thighs as he licked up and down, trying to get a taste of the fresh flow. I tried to scream but no voice came out. I remember my mom telling me that the flow and its collection were sacred and I thought about what she would think if she saw me right now.

God, she would be so disappointed in me.

After a few minutes I came to the conclusion that fighting against Peter’s well-built body was a lost cause. I released any retaliatory tension in my muscles and sank into the cushiony fabric of the bed’s comforter as he continued to consume down below. He licked and slurped and sucked until I saw his head pop up from between my legs. He released his grasp on my wrists and dragged his right hand across his mouth, cleaning up some of the red that stained the bottom of his face after the rampage. He shoved himself away from the bed and from my body and paraded out of the room, disappearing into the abyss of overpowering bass-lines and endorphinated 20-somethings with too much alcohol in their systems.

I laid there for a few moments staring up at the ceiling before rolling off of the bed, lifting the littered collection cup up from the viscous pool surrounding it, fastening it back to my leg, zipping up my pants, and carrying on into the abyss down below.

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onenextdoor · 6 years

Text

The One Next Door

Eren bend his back backward and stretch he’s his own man his own woman if he choose so. No father to beat him and no sister to ignore him when dad’s around. Eren looked at his hideous scars on his wrists. They were ugly but, this was something he choose to keep. The deeper it was the better it was. His dad wasn’t the one to inflict the most pain on himself. It was himself who had done the most damaged.

He’s a new man the best way to leave a bad situation was to be on his own instead of helping humans to live longer. He’d rather help animals having said that he didn’t want to waste his medical degree as a doctor or a surgeon for humans. So the few rare friends who put him in rehabilitation were the ones he’d save any day. As well as his sister Eren could never hurt her or be angry with her. As soon as he is situated and can pay for another person. She’ll have to stay with dad, ‘She’s only a minor and I don’t have custody of her. Dads only nice to her but, if he starts using her as a punching bag…. I’ll kill him.’

It was eerie how calm he was when he was thinking about killing his own father. Eren closed his eyes, “Enough. This is my life my new life. I won’t waste my time or energy on a man who was never a father. That aside I need food and my class starts monday which means I need to get my shit together and do my homework and study for a quiz that following monday and turn in an essay next week on a wednesday so he has to shake his ass and get a move on. He was so glad he had the moving company hired extra help to bringing the shit in. He had bought a lot of things so they were moving it all in here. And with everything being put away he took a shower in his new home and got dressed in something more comfy and a bit airy as well.

Panties over his ass he slipped on a thigh garter belt on one thigh effortlessly keep his thigh high were it should be. It held up his solid black thigh high that has silver glitter inside it glistering in the light. The other thigh high was black and naked black stripes going down the legs. Going to his drawer taking a pair of panty for his naked ass it’s too damn windy to be going out of the house without any undies. Black and pink he put on the matching bra too. He looked at himself and cock a hip and fluff his hair. He felt sexy so that meant it he looked good too as well that he bend over to take a good look at the ass he’s so proud off.

Eren went to his closet and and took the sweater dress he bought two weeks ago and never worn it barely covered his ass despite the dress it was off the shoulder he took one look at the straps and decided to go braless. He unhook the bra and took it off one arm at a time and slipping the sleeves back on his arms one at a time. Going to a one of his many many many jewelry chest he snagged a headband with pastel yellow roses and black thorn. It matches the sweater dress it was pastel purple pale half the upper top and the lower half is pastel pale yellow with a black cross in the middle. His nails and toes were painted black so it went with the outfit and then he went to the next jewelry chest to snag a twin spiked black bracelet to cover the worst slashes on his wrists. Add a bit of eyeshadow, mascara, and eyeliner he was decked the fuck out and last but not least the choker with his mother’s key.. Mom gave it to dad and dad gave it to me but, dad took it back so mom took it from him and put it back around his throat while looking at dad warning him off with a baseball bat. I kept it ever since and when Ma found out he was hurting me she let me live alone since I was seventeen. Although I was in the fucking institue until I was nineteen. Seen a shrink from then until now his depression taken cared off he’s happy...happy. Eren walked into his walk in closet slipping on his heels. They were pastel doll heel shoe that’s four inches tall. He’s tall already but, he’s even more taller than he was now. He grabbed his keys, wallet and hand purse. Stuffed his wallet inside and walked out of his home he did stop to look at the door next door. He honestly can’t believe this man bought all of the rooms up here but, one that was next door to him.

Eren went to do the ground level to get in his car he always checked around his surrounding before he gets into his car. No one was watching him and even though his dad or his sister knew where he lives. He still checked because paranoia was his new best friend into keeping him safe he may be cured of something things but, never that.

Finding the nearest market was a pain in the ass especially during rush hour he should have checked the time before he left. He doesn’t have a cellphone but, maybe he should invest in one he does however has a cord phone to talk to people if need be. He’ll think about getting a new one but, he’ll have to do some phone research to pick out the one that suits his need. He knows it won’t be a windows phone. When he found the place he was looking for he had to fight for a god damn parking spot. Three hours in the supermarket later he was just about to check out when he heard 70 percent off on cabbage. Eren turned his basket and speed the the aisle ‘Soo LUCKY, cabbage on sale oh my god it’s 70 fucking percent off. “Looks like I’m having cabbage soup~ Yum.” Parking his basket he went and stand in the back. It was no use fighting someone who’s constantly trying to shove their way to the front. When it came down to special skills his was getting bargain deals. Clothes, food, accessories, and cleaning supplies to toilet paper..no one can best him when it comes to snagging a very good deal.

Eren scanned which one he should go for the one on the right seemed pretty good but, it smelled like it was rotting from the inside and the one on the far back from it. It looked all brown on the front but, the water inside of it was not making it smell all moldy. If he used it today he can just peel off the first layer and can use the rest. The others weren’t as packed as the one he got his eyes on. Decision made he moved around for the bad looking one when it’s actually a good one.

“Listen up shoppers we are about to begin the 70% off cabbage sale get ready for the count down. 3….2….1...GO!”

Eren zoomed in letting the waves of the body carrying him to the front he snagged it from a student who was so close to getting it. Eren again used the wave of the body to slip right out of the raging housewives. Eren fixed his dress and put his cabbage in a bag before walking on over to the cashier. Behind him slices of cabbages leaves were flying all about and a shit ton of angry arguments of saying it’s mine. There was no old lady fighting for cabbage so he didn’t need to help grab another good one for the elderly. Checking out he had a total of three hundred and eighty-six dollars worth of groceries. Carrying it up to the elevator and getting into his house might be a pain the ass since he’s on the top floor. The VIP elevator is reserved to the person who lived next door. Hopefully they can be good enough friends to let him use it because getting groceries twice a month might be a pain in the ass. He’s not as fit as he used to be after all he lacked some serious weight. The institute don’t believe in letting him eat his fill so he was kind of skinny in his taste of mind. He still got his ass though so that’s a win in his book if anything he hoped his ass would bring some people into his yard. It’s rare if another girl was into a man dressing up as one of them….but, he’d hoped he find that one in a million.. He felt more of a woman than a man. Could be because of his mother since he was young she dressed him up in very pretty clothing. He loves it and it made him happy as the elevator slowly makes it ways up to the penthouse. Once he stepped out of the elevator he swears he hears an odd noise. What it was actually he didn’t know. Standing in front of his door he took his keys out and opened it. He only put away the ice cream and the produce stuff away like milk and eggs and cheese, the rest he set aside for now. Keys still in his mouth he locked up his place and went back downstairs to get the rest of his food. It took him four trips…..four very long trips to get all the stuff he bought from the market up to his place. He didn’t know what the fuck he was thinking when he thought seeing the skyline would be a fantastic idea. He was going to need to get that VIP elevator asap.

It took an addition hour and fifteen minutes to put everything away his pantry was full of goodies he had the meat neatly stacked inside his fridge. He got the good bubble baths and salt to change the bathwater color. He got sweets too he figured he’d watch a movie in his living room and cuddles underneath some blankets and pillows. He can do school work tomorrow and unlike other people he does finish that said work the same day before college even start.

Eren walked over to the cabinets that held his multitude of aprons he collected over the years and selected the kiss the cook one. Slipping the apron on and tying it in the front because he thought it made him be more of a chef he got to work on removing the bad part off the cabbage before washing it thoroughly. He thought about making a simple Kielbasa, potato, and cabbage soup, cornbread, and since the majority of the vegetable was literally inside the soup he didn’t make any side veggies. He was wondering what else to make with it when he turned his head to a loud thud as if something or someone just fell over. Concerned and a bit scared Eren turned off the water letting the cabbage stayed in the sink while he wipe his hands on the bottom of his apron.

‘Please don’t be a body please don’t let it be a body. Don’t be a serial killer, oh my god please don’t be a serial killer.” Eren kept the door of his place unlocked and went next door to knock. There was no answer so he ranged the doorbell. Again there was no answer ‘I know damn well I heard a thud...is-’ Eren looked at the name on the side of the wall it was a name plate of the owner inside. ‘Levi unconscious or something did he hit his head? What if he just dropped something.’ Erena his faithful baby girl came outside rubbing between his ankle mewling at him, “I know, I know you’re hungry from the long move right? Give me a second.” Eren knocked on the door heavily while ringing the doorbell. “Levi! Is everything alright in there? Do you need help!?” Only silence greeted and Eren was this close to kicking the door open like the police when he heard the motherfucking chainsaw…. Eren swiftly picked up his cat and hurried the fuck back inside his place slamming the door shut. He put the chain lock on the door, turned the bolt lock to locked and the little lock on the door knob as well. He even eyed the bookshelf and thought about dragging it over and locking the door by tilting it to the door to connect to the other ending wall in front of it.

“W-why would he have a fucking chainsaw in his house….i-is he….is he chopping up bodies.” Erena was so shocked at being manhandled she just let herself be dangled in his arms. She looked up to him with wide big eyes it never blinked even as he looked down to her wide cat eyes.”

“E-Erena...h-he could be….he could be a serial killer...oh my god what if he’s part of that chainsaw massacre...H-he’ll chop me up..”

Eren is literally crying right now and despite Erena reassuring licks to his cheeks the chainsaw was whirring noise was prominent in the air. It clashed with an object and a few moments later something heavy dropped on the ground again.

“I-I’m way to young to die…..I’ve never even kissed a person and now I might be a victim for this crazy ass guy…” Eren dropped his cat who landed perfectly on her cute wittle paws and pawed him. She didn’t looked scared at all she was just mewling him for food and the fucked up thing is his cat usually knows when something dangerous was going to happen because she’d would flip the fuck out and go on attack mode.

“Y-you don’t think Levi is dangerous do you? He might make kibbles out of you you know…”

Erena trots to the kitchen while looking over her shoulder she was basically telling him to get a move on to feed her and stop freaking out.

“That’s easier said than done my friend because he’s still at it….Oh my god…” Eren wrapped his arms around his stomach thinking it would help with his nervous guts.

“Neoow……..neow neow.” She kept going until Eren pulled out the premade food he cooked for the cat. He kept it separate so that he could feed her when ever and he was glad for it the cat rubbed between his legs meowing. “Come on, Rena gimmie a sec I gotta warm it up for you.” She still meowed at him impatiently clawing as his thigh highs. He instantly scooped her up before she can put a hole into him. “Baby girl, these are my favorite and since you won’t sit still long enough to be declawed you don’t get to scratch my legs.” Her tail flicked his face and the microwave dinged after twenty seconds. He carried her and her food to the mat in the kitchen setting the food down she leaped to it and did her routine of circling around it until she picked a spot.

Eren looked to the wall where the sound of chainsaw was still being loud so Eren looked at Erena was still gobbling her food and not pay any attention to the noise next door. Seeing her so nonchalant he got back to his own cooking. Thanks to his photographic memory remembering recipes were the next best thing which meant he didn’t need to take any grocery list with him and studying were his best subject.

2 tablespoons olive or vegetable oil

1 1/4 pounds (1 ring) kielbasa, 1-inch dice

1 pound (1 large or 2 medium) starchy potato, such as russet, peeled and chopped

1 tablespoon paprika, 1 scant palmful

1/2 tablespoon coriander, half a palmful

1/2 teaspoon ground allspice

2 carrots, chopped

2 ribs celery, chopped

2 cloves garlic, crushed

1 onion, chopped

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1/2 head savoy cabbage, chopped

A few grates nutmeg

1 cup lager beer, room temp

4 cups chicken stock

2 cups tomato passata or puree

1/2 cup creme fraiche

3 tablespoons chopped fresh dill or 1 1/2 teaspoons dried

Handful fresh parsley leaves, chopped

1/2 lemon, juiced

He put it in the pot once all the preparations were complete he put it all together and let it cook and simmer. The scent is deliciously filling up the house and to be honest a home cooked meal is his favorite smell of anything in this world. His Ma’s cooking was simply the best she taught him everything he knew. Eren smiled finishing up his cleaning in the kitchen and waiting on the food he figured he’d go to his room and get off secretly in the bathroom or something. By the time he’s done the food should be ready. Eren looked down at his groin his erection wasn’t sticking up or anything but, he was still young and he does get aroused for the strangest reason.

Puberty came awfully late with him it’s like he’s constantly waking up to a fully erect cock or he blew his jizz all up in his sheets. Both end result sucked but, if he do it himself once in awhile he won’t have to worry about getting an erection under other people's gaze. If he does jerk off he can get dress in his home clothes which was a shirt that barely cover his ass no underwear and thigh highs. It’s perfect and he can make popcorn and shit for the movie and since the neighbor is loud he can turn up his own tv and cuddle Erena aka Rena. Considering he already took a shower he didn’t really need a bath bath….he could just washed his ding dong after he finished jerking off...hell he could just keep his outfit on and just ditched the underwear, heels, headband, and bracelet. He can bathe probably in the morning he’ll take a nice long bubble bath candles and music.Eren sigh thinking that was pure heaven and just thinking about it makes him want to do it now instead of later…. Hell, he might do both night and day he prefers bath over showers any day.

Heading up stairs to his room he took off his heels and put it back in his walk in closet with the built in shelves for all of his shoes. He slipped his panties off and carried them to the basket he saw two furballs on his bed. The cats looked at him while he stared back at them he backed up hands clutching his used panties and both his hands. They...were….so...cute oh my god they have such beautiful black fur. Eren put his panties in the basket and walked over to them, “So gorgeous and you look well groomed.” They are obviously cared for so it’s not like he can take them in if they already have a home. “You’re so beautiful it’s a shame I can’t keep you. Where did you guys come from.” Eren scratched both of their ears. “Names, Eren. What’s yours?”

‘Corporal.’ Responded the male cat with silverish blue-grey hues that stared at him inquisitively.

‘Dreamer.’ Purred the female with striking brilliant purple hues as she rubbed her face into her new neighbor’s hand as he scratched her.

Eren smiles, “I take it you two have already meet the lady of this house , huh.”

‘Of course. It would be rude of us not to greet her.’ Corporal purred as he got up and moved over to Eren.

Eren sat down rubbing the male cat neck and under his ears just to hear him purr, Dreamer moved to get on his lap she was doing the grabby things with her paws and forepaw as if she can mold his flesh to her liking before settling down. Eren rubbed her back with his hands his nail lightly trailing down her back.

Corporal rubbed his entire length against Eren’s side before leaping up onto his shoulders to lay down. Laying there he purred nuzzling against Eren’s neck affectionately.

‘Master and Major would like you a lot.’ Dreamer purred fully enjoying the attention she was getting.

Eren cocked his head, “Who are they?” Eren rubbed his nose in Corporal neck and nuzzles him

‘Major is our brother, but he’s a dog. He’s a German Shepard so he can’t come visit like we can.’ Corporal answered first.

‘Master Levi is the one who rescued us as Kits. He beat the person who tried drowning us in the river and took us home with him.’ Dreamer answered after her brother.

‘We’ve been with him ever since keeping him company and keeping unwanted sorts away from him.’ Corporal said nonchalantly. It was Corporal and Dreamer that really approved of their Master’s neighbors. If they were bad people trying to get close to him they would run them off before they ever got the chance.

Eren blinked and picked up Dreamer so they were face to face but he had a hand under her head and her back sported by his other hand…. He might as well asked it couldn’t hurt to know if the man next door is these cat’s owner: “So….Levi he...wouldn’t happen to be the one next door from me right? The one with the chainsaw….he’s a serial killer isn’t he…” Eren didn’t pose it as a question because he thought it be true.

Corporal snorted from his shoulder and his purr sputtered like he was trying to hold back laughter. ‘Boss isn’t a serial killer. He does a lot of different things. Currently he’s sculpting a Forest God from a Redwood log.’

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