#somebody take me out back and shoot me like the sick dog i am so i dont have to go to work tomorrow im begging

[toxooz]

Ponti grants Kari Scary Dog Privilege

#ponti #kari #somebody take me out back and shoot me like the sick dog i am so i dont have to go to work tomorrow im begging #only worked half a day today and i was bed ridden ever since lmfao #capitalism: ''its wisdom tooth removal surgery how long would recovery be 2 days?'' #these meds are kicking m y ass #my art #monster oc #monster #monster boy #monster girl #monster girlfriend #monster boyfriend #terato #exophilia #oc #original character #wheel bitten

[tremblingwithevelyn]

this isn’t me

     This isn’t me.  It isn’t me but it might have been me.  When I look at it, I see me.  The girl that grew up in Marfa, Texas and couldn’t wait to get out.  Who lives in Marfa, Texas?  Used to be ranchers and their cattle, evangelical Christians (some nice and some not so nice), occasional aliens (both illegal and extraterrestrial), and yes, a queer little girl named Evelyn. Today I honestly couldn’t say who lives here because I just got back. Yes, Marfa got her little queer home girl back. Whoopee.

     I was born in Marfa thirty-five years ago.  I left Marfa seventeen years ago.  Right after I finished high school.  All of eighteen and over ready to see a world without empty brown fields and emptier stretches of blacktop, I got on a bus and got the shit out of town.  Far out.  I have only been back once.  Today.  My mother called.  She said she was sick and that she needed me to come home.  So, ever the dutiful child, back I came.  All the way back home to Marfa, Texas.  Oh no.  Oh yes.

     Okay, so I suppose Marfa has changed since I left.  I hear tell it is now something of an artist's colony.  No shit.  Major surprise?  No, not really.  Austin is close enough for the techies with money to burn to find and build their vacation homes in.  The Prada storefront art piece is here.  Sorta here.  Out on the highway just a bit, but here enough, I guess.  Hell, Marfa is the second home of Minimalism.  Pilgrims of all kinds of arty-farty bents pass through.  I’m arty-farty, or so I’ve been told.  I’m kind of bent too.  The kind of bent that can’t be unbent.  

     I paint.  Or I did for a time.  I went to a state university after I left Marfa.  Studied hard and did well. I got a degree in Art History.  It’s a useless piece of paper but I like it.  I got a job.  I saved some money and opened a studio.  I painted portraits.  I sold a few.  Very few.  I had to close the studio.  I got another job.  I saved up some more money.  I tried again.  I failed again.  I got another job.  Tried to save up some more money, but mother called, so not so much.  Sense a pattern?  I do.  An unfortunate one.  Failure is a given.  Living is losing.

      Here at home, I am, once again, just me.  Virginia's little girl, Evelyn.  Nobody special.  Just an ordinary girl dutifully sitting at home with her sick mother.  Her extremely sick mother.  The kind of sick that you don't get over.  Yes, the last kind.  I am losing a mother.  Strange to say and hard to take in.  No choice in the matter.  Cancer came to call.  Cancer, despite what you may have heard, always wins.  The fight is to die of something else first.  What will I die of?  Hopefully of old age, but that isn’t a given.  Cancer runs in families.  Families like mine.  Oh no.  Oh yes.  

     So, I bought a pair of boots.  And a cowboy hat.  And a pick-up truck.  An incredibly old pick-up truck.  Yee-hah.  No dog yet but give a girl some time.  Alpine is just a short drive away.  Perhaps I'll get a horse.  A pale one.  (Dark smile.)   Mom has a shit load of guns.   Soon I'll be packing.  I don't like guns a whole lot, but I must admit that I often feel like shooting somebody.  (Darker smile.)  I don’t quite look like Uma Thurman, but I’m closer than most girls.  Small thumbs.  Hey, nobody's perfect.  Certainly not me.  Or you.

      I left Roni, my sort of steady girl of long standing, back in the city.  Sorry, Roni, I had to go.  I know you’ll keep the girls down at the dyke bar busy while I'm gone.  (Very dark smile.)  While the queen cat is away, the pussy posse will find new kittens to lick.  (Full blown frown.)  Everyone is replaceable.  Roni will replace me.  At least, I hope she does.  I may not be coming back.  (Hard truth.)  Perhaps I’ll send her a postcard of me in my new shit-kicking attire.  Tell her to put it up at the bar.  The girls will have a hoot over it.   Evie the cowgirl.  No shit.  Oh yes.

#evelyn tremble

[2close2sun]

being neurodivergent is so weird, i’ll spend all day doing the smallest amount of work near people and be all

“nobody speak to me nobody perceive me if you exist within 30ft of me i will absolutely annihilate you.”

and then my friend will call me and suddenly i’m all

“man life is so alright today i sure do enjoy being a creature and shit hoohoohehehehee!!!1!”

it’s like when your phone dies and you let it sit for a couple of minutes and then you hold down the power button and it turns back on with like. 10% battery.

how in the howdy fuck did you regenerate buddy i watched the life leave your eyes seven minutes ago

#crazy how brain work…… #adhd be wilding and stufs #i did not sleep. i am awake #we are moving my stuff downstairs and i am. so tired #i wasn’t even moving shit i was mostly being very impolite in a somewhat funny manner #and yet. i am on the verge of being dead as hell #a 2 minute phone call about a concert saved my gd life #like. ok brain if you can restore energy like that why not do that ALL RHE TIME #rage rage #grumble grumble #somebody please just take me out back and shoot me like a sick dog i’m begging you please plea #adhd #mental illness #neurodivergent #why am me like this :(

[renova-writes]

Coney Island Hotdogs

Requested by: @maximeevansblog

Summary: “The reader is the daughter of bucky barnes, and the have a daddy - daugther Day, but the reader wants to sleep but her dad has other plans , and end of the Day the asks what do you wanna eat Mac donalds and the watch a movie, but the reader falls a sleep trough the movie, and he carries her to bed, but she wakes up and her dad she go back to sleep button, i am carring you to bed, and allot of fluff and cuteness and if its ready you tag me right thanks”

Words: 2,004

Warnings: Just basically a bunch of Fluff. Some mentions of bullying and death, but very light and fun

Other Works: masterlist

"Five more minutes," you whined. The clock on your bedstand read 5:39 am.

"Hey, button," you heard a voice whisper. The dark locks dangling over you told you that it was your father. "Get dressed. I have a surprise for you."

"It's too early."

"I know, but I'll make you a (your favorite caffeinated drink)" Your dad obviously wanted you to get up but was not going to force you. That was one of your favorite things about him. He never forced you to do anything you didn't want to.

"Really" Your sleepy eyes lit up at the mention of caffeine.

"Yes button, really. I promise. Just get yourself ready to go, and it will be waiting for you" he smiled and walked out of your room, "Also, bring a jacket. Just in case."

With that, your dad left. As you paused for a moment in your bedsheets, soaking up the last moments of fluffy warmth before you needed to get up, excitement crawled up your spine. It wasn't often that you and your dad did things, just the two of you. He was always busy with the Avengers, or you two were over with Sam and his family. When you did make time for special days, he usually asked you what you wanted to do beforehand.

His walking into your room at five in the morning, asking you to get up so that you two could have a bonding day, was unusual. He must have something special planned.

You forced yourself to get out of bed. That was going to be the hardest part. Half asleep, you dragged yourself over to the bathroom. You did your business and paused after washing your hands to brush your teeth and your hair. A smile crept across your face in the mirror as you tried to guess what you were going to do.

The zoo? The park? Maybe the museums?

You lived in the Avenger's tower in the heart of New York City, so there were many options. You gave up trying to guess and decided to go with whatever. It was going to be fun no matter what.

It was the beginning of spring, so it was warm during the day but cold in the mornings. You picked out a light floral dress, leggings, and a cardigan so that you could have layers. Some essential jewelry and your boots would also be a part of your outfit.

After putting on your clothes and some basic makeup, you made your way to the main room of your apartment. Just like he had promised, your dad had gotten your beverage from the Starbucks next to the lobby. He had probably gotten it before waking you up as it was sitting in the microwave/fridge.

"Hey button. Nice to see that you finally have awoken from your cavern of blankets," he joked, "You ready. I've got an amazing day planned out. Just the two of us."

"Yep. Where are we going."

"Button, that's a surprise!"

"Tell me!!" you giggled.

"Well, it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you," he smiled. A goofy grin was on his face, with admiration pouring out of his eyes.

"Just a hint…" you begged. "I'll probably forget by the time we get there."

"No. I want it to be a complete surprise," your dad insisted, "that's why, after you drink your drink, I want you to put on a blindfold."

Oh dear, he was very insistent about this whole surprise thing.

"But first, BREAKFAST!!!" he exclaimed as he presented you with your favorite breakfast, waffles, and strawberries. The plate seemed to sparkle with deliciousness as your stomach cried out in hunger.

"Yummy!!!"

"See, I remembered your favorite" he seemed very proud of himself. You had mentioned that you liked waffles when Wanda had made them for a birthday breakfast.

"Dig in! I put some strawberry syrup into the waffles themselves so that we would have extra strawberry flavor."

He handed you a fork and a knife, and you cut into them. The heat fell off of the bite on your forked, and you braced yourself in anticipation. Your father could cook; he and Steve used to make dinners for the team. But that was with Steve, now that he was gone, your dad rarely cooked. It had been hard for him. He was slowly getting over it; you definitely helped. Having somebody to take of, his therapist agreed, was very good for him. But his food was very hit or miss. This morning, however, the waffles were amazing.

The strawberries tasted fresh and had the perfect amount of sweetness. The waffles were eggy, precisely the way you liked them.

"Dad! These are delicious!" you exclaimed.

"I know, right, they're so good," he nodded in agreement, "but can I admit something? I stole the recipe off Auntie Wanda."

It didn't matter where he got the recipe from. They were delicious. It took the two of you a total of 10 minutes to eat the entire plateful.

He pulled a blindfold out of his pocket and put it around your eyes. You had faith that he wouldn't let you bump into anything. You weren't going to have to worry about the crowded city streets. When the strangers passing by got a glimpse of his metal arm, they always made a beeline away from him.

You knew it hurt him. You could see it in his eyes. He was your dad, after all. When you were younger, you couldn't understand why they were afraid, but now that you were older, you knew. It never, even for a second, hurt your relationship with your dad. You loved him. You knew that the real James Barnes was a cinnamon roll. This was a man who wouldn't kill spiders when he found them in the kitchen. This was a man who hung out with the Parker boy and played video games.

Even though the blindfold around your eyes took away your sight, you knew that your dad was checking to see if his gun was where he needed it. After all, he was the Winter Soldier. But that was an everyday thing. When he stopped rustling with his pockets, you felt a hand on your shoulder guiding you out of the room.

------

As soon as you heard the crowd's excitement, you knew where you were. The smell of cotton candy and hot dogs confirmed it.

Your dad had taken you to Coney Island.

You hadn't been there since you were a little kid and couldn't control your excitement. The hand that had been guiding you on your shoulder disappeared and removed the blindfold.

After taking a moment to adjust to the light, your eyes took in the flashing lights and kids running around. The roller coasters and carnival games all around you captivated your attention and caused a smile to form on your face.

"How's this for a surprise Button?"

"Dad, this is amazing! Thank you!!!"

"What ride do you want to go on first?"

The morning flew by in a blur. You and your dad had decided to go on every single ride you could. He had enjoyed the bumper cars and had won you a stuffed panda bear on one of the shooting games. You got the famous coney island hot dogs for lunch and ate on a bench on the beach. The entire morning, there was one thing that you really wanted to do… Ride the Cyclone.

"Hey, dad….."

"Yes Button"

"Can we ride the Cyclone"

"Um. of course. We have to. What's the point of coming here if we don't."

You threw away your trash and got in line. A man with purple hair and tattoos strapped the two of you in and took your picture.

"Alrighty ladies and gents," the loudspeaker in the car said. "Are you ready for the Cyclone"

Everyone on the train whooped and hollered in excitement, and the car lurched forward. Slowly you crept up the first hill and felt the adrenaline follow. At the top, you saw the people on the benches below. You couldn't help but compare them to little dolls from your height.

With that, the car reached the top of the hill and falls.

"Whoa, Button, I think I'm going to be sick," Buck said once you were off. He was looking somewhat green and queasy.

It was your turn to guide him... to a trash can. It turned out he wasn't going to throw up, which you were grateful for, but the Cyclone's toll had been taken. He rested his body on a bench and called it quits.

"What time is it," he asked. You checked your watch. It was two in the afternoon. "How about we do something a little, slower."

"Sure," you agreed. You were in Brooklyn, his home borough, and he decided to take you on a tour of where he grew up.

"And this is the alleyway where your Uncle Steve decided to get in all those fights," he said you passed by. "One time, after I saved his tiny ass, he told me that he thought he had pulled a muscle, and I was all like, 'Steve, you can't pull what you don't have."

You giggled at the thought of skinny Steve. Continuing on your tour, you saw his old apartment and walked through the one he shared with Steve. It had been turned into a museum, and you laughed together for an hour as he pointed out every single detail that had been changed.

"There was no way that we could have two beds! There was no heater, so we shared one! Why would they change that! It wasn't like we had anything going on between us!" he argued. You laughed as the tour guide still could not recognize one of the old occupants of the apartment.

Once your dad seemed satisfied with his tour, the two of you walked down to the nearest subway stop. In the underground station, you passed those golden arches.

"Dad, can we get McDonald's," you asked.

"Are you sure, Button, we can get much better food back a the tower"

"Yeah, we haven't had it in forever, and I need to feed my inner Chicken nugget," you joked.

He must have been in an excellent mood because he gave in to the lure of the golden arches. He also seemed like he really wanted a burger because he got his usual order, Two big macs, a large fry, and an M&M McFlurry. The super-soldier serum had granted him the ability and need to eat loads of food. You also figured that he wanted a break from Pepper's food because she had decided that the entire team needed to become more healthy conscience. It wasn't that anyone hated her food; it was just somewhat bland. And besides, who wants couscous when you can have Micky D's.

After Bucky had wolfed down his food, and you had savored each bite of Chicken Nugget, you got on the train back home. You could feel yourself grow tired as your body finally rested from an exciting and full day. Your head drooped down and rested on your father's shoulder.

"Hey, button, let's watch a movie in the tower."

He picked out a classic, The Wizard of Oz, and made popcorn. You barely made it to the tornado before your eyes finally gave up. You were so tired that you didn't feel your dad pick you up and start carrying you to your bed.

Your eyes fluttered open as you heard 'If only I had a heart' playing from the TV.

"Hey, Button," your dad's voice whispered, "You fell asleep. I didn't want you to wake up on the sofa, so I'm taking you to your bed."

He laid you down and pulled up the blankets. With a kiss on your forehead, turned to leave.

"Dad, I love you," you called out.

"I love you too, Button" On that note, he turned out your light and closed your door

#bucky x y/n #bucky x daughter!reader #bucky fluff #domestic bucky #fic request #steve x you #sam x you #marvel #avengers #avengers x young reader

[b1ksh88p]

Be Mine Chapter 3

Plot: A storm is brewing in Valentine, and you’re in the middle of it. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen Harry and there’s already been a horrendous murder. With tensions high and everyone finger pointing your ex, Edmund, makes everything worse by spreading gossip. With the sting of rejection still weighing heavy on your heart you attempt to clear everything up only to make things worse.

Describing your mood as sour would be a understatement. You were numb. A grey cloud loomed over your usual cheery exterior as you went through day to day activities. Whenever someone asked if you were alright you’d chalk it up to trivial excuses. When in actuality you were torn that you’d been stupid enough to try and have a picnic with a killer. If you were sane maybe you’d tell the Sheriff and get some of his boys in uniform to smoke Harry out somehow but you had no taste for revenge. All you wanted was to move on.

But it seemed your ex had other plans. You worked in the diner, usually taking up the night shifts to rid yourself of boredom. As you were cleaning a table you overheard a couple chatting away about you of all topics. Why your name was in their mouths you didn’t know but from what you got out of it made you want to raise hellfire.

“I heard she goes down there every night to see that killer.”

“Edmund said that the sherif saw her go in with food and came out empty handed.”

“No way, maybe she’s a killer.”

There’s no way you could allow these two peons spread such outlandish babble. You’ve never killed anyone nor would you ever. The thought of murdering another made you sick to your stomach. “Edmund is a long-nosed good for nothing asshole who spends his time making up calumniations and dumping his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day for a dumb blonde with a baby voice. You two and the rest of your bubble headed friends would be fools to believe anything that comes out his mouth.” You finish with a astute turn into the back for a extensive smoke break.

If you saw Edmund or that sleazy sheriff you’d be sure to give them a piece of your mind. And speak of the devil, there he was. Your blood was replaced with boiling water as you stomped your way towards him. He was with the sherif and some other random cop you didn’t know. Both of them saw you coming and started to drift apart before you whistle and jogged towards the two snakes.

“Where we going boys? Running away from the new killer of the town?”

“Now listen Y/N I didn’t mean to start anything.” The sheriff assured.

You weren’t impressed. “You’re just the last one seen in the mines so...it makes sense.” Edmund shrugged.

“And you were the last one fucking the blonde bimbo you cheated on me with and she has crabs....so it makes sense right?” You snap back garnering a chortle from the other cop.

“It’s not my fault you’re a boring bitch who can’t get anyone to date you except for some psycho?!” He growled.

“I’m not dating anyone and I’m not a killer. Instead of gossiping like little girls how about you three go investigate and find the real killer.” You throw down the cigarette and stomp it out beneath your heel.

“We apologize if we’ve caused you any trouble Miss, we’re doing the best we can.” The Sheriff whispered.

“Keep my name out your ass licking mouths and out the fucking paper.” You demand before walking back inside the diner.

After your shift you began to walk home. The ominous glow of streetlights did little to scare you. On your way to you lovely home you stopped by the liquor store. A bit tipsy you ventured the winding fucked up roads. The quiet sounds of the night were ruined by the sounds of sirens. It had been what? 72 hours and some change since the last murder what the hell could the coppers be speeding for? Even in your mildly drunken stupor you noticed where they were heading. The mines. Sober you would’ve kept walking like any sane person but you were running on anger, worry, and rum. A mix that didn’t bode well when making good decisions.

You knew a shortcut through the trees and made haste. By the time you fought through flora and fauna two cars were already there. The sheriff and Edmund were there holding lanterns and guns. You step out from behind the trees, face bathed in red and blue lights. Softly stepping towards the shit show. “What the fuck are you two asswipes doing?!” You call out as you make your way to the entrance of the mine. Before they can stop you you’re in front of the cold entrance.

“You protecting your boyfriend again?” Edmund spat as he loaded his gun.

“You don’t have a gotdamn clue who killed those two. It takes you dumb mother fuckers months to even get close to closing a case!”

“We know he’s down there Y/N and he’s gonna fucking burn for what he did. And if you gotta burn with him so fucking be it!” He aimed the gun at you which almost made you piss yourself. You stumble back as he aims it at you. The thumping of your heart beat in your ears.

“I’m not you enemy! And neither is he!” Your words were bold but hoarse.

“That son of a bitch killed family. I don’t care what you think he’s going to die, and if I have to shoot you to get to him I fucking will!” The sheriffs attempts to calm down Edmund were futile. He had his eyes on you. They were large and red and full of rage. He looked like a rabid animal and you his prey.

“...You’re angry I get that but this is a mob attack not a lawful pick up. You have no evidence-“

“DONT GIVE ME A FUCKING LESSON IN LAW BITCH I AM THE FUCKING LAW!” He shot at the ground beneath your feet sending dirt into your eyes. The muffled scolding from the sheriff did nothing to stop your beating heart. In fact there were bigger problems.

Another shot cracked through the night sending you to the ground covering your head. The grotesque sound of choking made you gag. The Sheriff was on the ground, clambering hands grabbing at the gaping hole in his chest as he bled out. Edmund was in shock. He held the man’s dead hand with wide eyes. Perfect time to get away. You book it into the mines. It was dark and cold, even chillier with a fresh murderer on your heels. At first you didn’t hear him but a shot echoed through the caves followed by some demands for you and Harry to reveal yourselves. That wasn’t happening so you keep running, ducking into random corridors to try and throw him off your trail.

Apart of you was afraid of running into Harry. What if he was angry at you? Running into one killer to escape the other was a chance you really didn’t want to take. You’d rather wait it out and hide. Hopefully Harry would take care of Edmund and you could run away without interacting with either of them. You stop running to hide in a old mining cart that was turned over. Covering your mouth with shaking hands you listen. A heavy set of footsteps past you, Edmund more than likely. It wasn’t like Harry to be so loud. He taunted what you assumed were the shadows to face him like a real man. He didn’t really see him right? You wish you could peek but you were far to afraid you’d get your head blown off.

“So that’s what you look like. Y’know it’s crazy. You don’t look like a monster.” He cocked the gun. “Tell me how you did it. How you killed my dad you fucking monster.” He demanded.

There was no response on Harry’s end. You hear something fall to the ground and then Edmund’s smug laughter. What the hell was going on? You quietly peak from out your hiding space. The minimal lighting made the scene hard to make out but by the looks of it Harry had...given up. He had thrown his pick axe ahead of him, taken off the mask, and dropped to his knees. A gloved hand on the barrel of the gun pointing it to his head. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Was he insane? Edmund goes into a end game spill about how long he’s waited to do this. How he’d pin the Sheriff’s and I’s murder on Harry and walk out the mines a hero. During this you start to crawl towards them, ready to rush him or throw a rock, anything to buy Harry time. Your chest is tight as you hold your breath. Nearing the both of them as quietly as you possibly can. Edmund cocks the gun and says something to the effect of “everyone dies, somebody should’ve take your sorry ass out long ago.” Before you hear a shot.

It hits the ceiling once you use all your might to swing Harry’s pickaxe into Edmund’s head, through his cheek. The blast was so close to Harry he fell back in pain. Edmund leans on the wall holding the left side of his face, still turned away from you. When he does look at you all the blood drains from your body. His tongue hung from the broken jaw like a salivating dog, torn flesh dangled around missing teeth, with so much flesh exposed blood spritzed out every time he moved closer to you. He couldn’t move his jaw so when he spoke it was a gurgled cacophony of rage and disbelief. You lift the pick axe once more but see him lift the shotgun and take aim. This makes you freeze like a deer in headlights. You close your eyes, bracing for impact. But to your surprise it never comes. Instead Harry had gotten up and tackled him, only problem was that he got shot.

The two men fell to the ground. Edmund kicking him off and frantically reaching into his pocket for two more shells. Without thinking you kick the gun from his hands. He tried to get up but you stomp on his chest with all the rage bottled up inside. He looks up at you with that mangled face and large eyes but mercy was the last thing on your mind. You look over him, raise the crude weapon, and allow the cold metal to pierce through his chest. You let out a exasperated scream as you continue your onslaught. Hammering down years of neglect, wasted time, slander, and abuse into what’s left of his broken body. When you’re done he’s left torn apart. Rib cage broken and organs exposed. In all the madness you vomit from the stress and overall exertion of energy you used up. The groans from Harry snap you back to reality and you go to aid him.

“Oh god oh shit hold on hold on.” You ramble. Your hands try their best to cover the wound. He was shot in the side. Luckily it wasn’t a direct hit but without medical attention it was gonna get nasty. You use Edmund’s jacket to help stop the bleeding. He was just staring at you. “What? What the hell are you gonna yell at me for now???” You yell trying not to cry. He lifts a bloody hand to your face.

FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON DRAGON BALL Z

#harry warden #slasher #slashers #fanfic

[harrys-reverie]

DOG YEARS // Harry Styles O.U.

Part 2: The Bar Cart

a/n: hey and welcome to part 2! this is kind of short but I felt that it  needed to be it’s own chapter (in my head it makes sense.) aw harry and colette are v sweet in this one (i love them already). also there is colette’s face claim in the collage/mood board above including real pics from the soho farmhouse. :) comments, likes and REBLOGS are v much appreciated happy reading! 

STORY PAGE // PART 1

What I had concluded throughout the night was that this small group of Harry and his friends were just so normal. It was so easy to watch him on a phone clip or on the screen of a TV for an award show and have a false preconception of who he was. After all, he was a huge celebrity -- it’s hard not to imagine him being a certain way. I never could have dreamed he would be the way he is though, I suppose that’s the beauty of first getting to know somebody. As the hours weened late and the clock neared 12 AM, I realized Harry Styles was as normal as any man in a baby chick sweater could be. 

I had never been a massive Harry Styles fan, sure if his song came on the radio I bopped along. If I saw him on my Snapchat Daily Mail snippets, I’d read them every so often — but other than that I had no true preconception of who he was and what he was about. I guess that came in my favor because I had no high expectations from him and therefore he could only go up from there. Throughout the night the five of us took an abundant amount of shots and played a few childish ‘Truth or Dare’ games. I found myself taking a shot of maple syrup and pickle juice MIXED — Harry’’s idea of a dare.

This was the most fun I had since moving over here to England, and in the presence of all these ‘misfit’ like personas, I felt at home. There was no awkward beats, shame or egos. The whole atmosphere was completely judgement free and as light as a feather. I talked to everyone, chatting away about California, good food spots, sports and more. I found it so refreshing to be able to relate to other people’s stories about my home state, a place I was starting to long for.

It was fair to say that we were all peak drunk around 12, dancing along to old 70’s hits as well as current ones. Jamie tried to teach us all  ‘TikTok’ dances she had learnt from her children back home. Of course the 5 of us tried our best to be choreographed and in sync, but failed miserably. Little did they all know I spent most of my free time perfecting these stupid dances. Of course any videos we took, were never posted publicly...but some did make the cut as a private post to a whopping 0 followers. Watching Harry Styles sing the words “I'm a savage. Classy, bougie, ratchet, sassy, moody, nasty” with a bunch of hip pops was an award winning scene.

So as it reached 1 am, I was near my max of what I could handle for the night. My head which was once spinning was now beginning to pound and that gross dry feeling in my mouth was taking over. I hated this part. I didn’t feel sick to my stomach yet but I knew if I didn’t get sleep soon I’d be regretting it.

“Hey, so do ya need a ride back home?” Harry’s raspy voice asked, reading the room very well. He had taken a sudden seat next to me on the couch, spreading his legs apart and laying his head back fully — complete relaxation.

“You drank tonight,” I reprimanded him jokingly. But I meant it, he was the most plastered of all of us. “You can’t drive, even if it’s just down the hill.”

“Can’t argue with that,” He hummed. “’M pretty trashed still.”

I turned my head towards him, he was still looking up as if he was admiring the wood paneled ceilings, taking every detail in. But when I looked closer, his eyes were shut. His face structure was flawless if I’d say so myself. His jaw looked like it could cut someone, his eyebrows full enough to make any girl jealous, and those floppy, thick waves — it was hard to admit that he wasn’t handsome. I blinked my eyes hard, trying to get out of the small trance I was under. I was drunk after all.

“Well…” I began, “I need to start heading down to my casa.”

“Well…” Harry chirped, directing his attention towards me. “If I can’t drive you back down, the least I could do is walk you there.”

“No, please,” I scoffed. 

“Yeah, yeah. Shaddup and grab your coat, it’s about to get chilly out there.”

I knew I’d manage doing the walk by myself well enough alone. The premises of Soho Farmhouse were protected with heavy security and gates. I knew I had no reasons to worry about a swift 5 minute trudge down a hill.

“No Harry, seriously. I’ll be fine!” I argued back, forming a tight lip smile to reassure him.

“Who knows?  A bloody chicken could be loose and start chasing you, ya? Plus, it’s my duty to make sure you get back safe. Now, up!” He instructed. “’M a gentleman.”

I knew there was no point in fighting back, he was adamant about it. Plus the look on his face when I obliged was well worth it. 

The two of us said our quick fair wells to everyone  who was still gathered round the kitchen island talking amongst each other. It might have been the alcohol, but I felt oddly emotional saying goodbye to all of them. For the first time in a month I made what felt like real connections with a group of people and all I wanted was to hang out with them forever. I was bummed knowing Jamie and Jeff would only be here for another week or so.

“Shall we take the wagon, bar cart contraption thing?” Harry offered, pointing to the blue wagon filled with alcohol. 

“I don’t even have the keys.”

“Fair enough, walking it is.”

“Thanks for having me tonight,” I spoke tiredly.

“Don’t even worry about it. Glad to be of assistance in the ‘lit’ department,” He laughed, using quotations around the word lit.

“You’re very Americanized,” I noted. He turned his head to me, raising his eyebrow as if he had just been accused of something terrible.

“That’s why I’m back here in the English countryside. Trying to ween away from all that LA bullshit…” He admitted, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“LA bullshit?” I asked, appalled...maybe even a little offended. Although I had lived in Northern California, an insult to one city of my state was an insult to all.

“Yeah, erm, spent too much time there ‘s all...” Harry mumbled. I was almost sure by his tone he was not giving off the complete truth but I didn’t want to push. Harry started to fiddle with his bottom lips, hit teeth constantly biting it over and over. Most likely a nervous habit. 

We continued walking along the cobblestone in silence, the click-clack of our shoes echoing through the emptiness of the night. Despite the quietness of it all, it felt pretty comfortable.

“I love LA,” I offered sheepishly. “I mean, as long as you surround yourself with the right people, I think LA’s one of the best places you could be.”

“Well you’re just saying that,” He countered. “You’re from California, you’re supposed to say that.”

“False!”

“I loved LA too,” Harry admitted, focusing his attention back to the cobblestone ground ahead of him.

“Loved?” I asked inquisitively.

He turned his gaze to me and laughed, “It’s complicated.”

“LA can have that effect,” I said back, trying not to delve any deeper. I had just met him today after all, there was no reason for him to trust me with any of his problems. 

“I think you staying here will definitely be a big change. It’s about as simple as it gets.” I didn’t want to delve any deeper and invade his privacy so I took his explanation as it was. I couldn’t help but think there may have been a direct correlation with his quick mood change yesterday and his reasoning for disliking California. 

“Looking forward to it,” He smiled. “‘S kinda just like, the perfect situation for me. No press, no distractions, just focusing on myself...the music.”

“Mmm, exciting.”

Harry caught my gaze, “You’ve got no idea.”

We began to approach my cottage, the smallest one on the property. The lights on in the kitchen we’re still on from when I left. They were now shining through the windows giving a angelic glow to the darkness of the night.

“No rush to get up early tomorrow.” Harry insisted as we approached the large wooden door. I looked at him excitedly, all I wanted to do was sleep in after tonight and he had just granted me his permission to do so.

“Really?” I questioned.

He nodded his head, “I’ll be sleeping in late too. Bloody tired.”

“Alright I’ll just wait for a text from Jeff..”

Harry cut me off swiftly, “Or myself.” He pointed a finger to his chest playfully.

“Or yourself,” I agreed.

“But don’t worry, like I said, sleep in and uh I’ll see you tomorrow maybe.”

For some unknown reason the air between us felt extremely awkward. I was still a little tipsy, but coming down quickly. I thought to myself that if this was any other guy, I’d probably be on my tippy toes and ready to kiss him, because why not? But it was Harry Styles. He was like my boss, I guess, and he’d have no interest in me. If anything he’d file a restraining order if I tried to pull something like that. I pulled my jacket closer to my body as the air swirled around us.

“Alright well goodnight!” I exclaimed bringing him in for a quick side hug. Harry quickly turned it into a full on hug, giving me a tight squeeze. He smelled divine. How badly I wanted to arch my head up and meet his lips, which were probably freezing. The alcohol just does something to me and makes me want to kiss almost anybody to be fair. Making out with friends whilst drunk was one of my famous traits. It was like he had handed his warmth over to me because being embraced in him I instantly felt warmer, any shivers I once had were gone.

He let go of me and awkwardly stood there, his hands flying into his pockets. “Just want to make sure you get in safe,” He noted, bringing his lips into an awkward smile, shooting his gaze towards the door.

“Oh yeah, of course,” I laughed nervously. I emphasized the key in my hand, giving him a big smile as I twisted it and unlocked the heavy door.

“Right,” He muttered.

“Get back safe!” I chirped, allowing myself to fully walk in the warmth of my cottage and turning to face him.

“I’ll text you.”

“Oh?” I arched my eyebrow at him jokingly.

“Goodnight, Colette.” And with that he turned on his feet, slowly waking back up the treacherous hill and to his abode.

I slammed the door fast, the thunderous noise vibrating through my whole cottage. I rested my back against it in a state of relief and confusion of the encounter I had just endured. Pulling myself back together and avoiding any intrusive thoughts I may begin to think, i decided to start up a hot shower and brew myself tea.

HARRYS POV

I felt weird. I hadn’t felt this way since the night I had met Camille, years ago at a friends party. It was a feeling I longed for, but also was scared of. The creative side of me wanted to embrace the feeling, the broken side of me wanted to steer clear. I knew the girl I had just waved goodbye to depended on this job, I couldn’t just ask for a replacement — plus, I was intrigued. I felt like I was at tug of war with myself over a girl I had just met earlier today. It was a tad ridiculous.

I figured the best thing for me to do was to only call her around when trulynecessary. It wasn’t like me to be this unwelcoming, but the feeling in my stomach that was creeping up to my mind was telling me to be this way. I wasn’t going to text her tomorrow for anything. Colette, right? Yep, that was her name — how could I forget it. A face as pretty as the name. I didn’t say much when I came back into my temporary home, instead I insisted I needed sleep and get a propers nice rest of what was left of it anyways. It was the most polite way to let my dear pals know to fuck off for the night. I loved them all, but I needed to get situated and I wanted space. Time to myself is what I cherished most.

I rushed up to my bedroom, shutting the door and entering the attached bathroom. I neatly undressed myself, taking a deep stare in the mirror. I looked at myself hard, the alcohol was still in my system so I appeared a little fuzzy. I felt older, my hairline was not what it used to be in the 1D days, it didn’t bother me but I had seen some tweets about it. My facial hair was growing in kind of unevenly, this is what I get for wanting to be independent and not have a stylish take care of how I look. I preferred it that way though, that’s how it should be.

Sighing, I went for the toothbrush and started on my nightly routine. I wanted to create a new set of routine now that I was becoming accustomed into this place I’d be calling ‘home’ for the next four months.

After freshening up, I let my body get underneath the cool covers, pulling them up high up to my neck to keep me warm. I stared at my phone that was sitting on the wooden table side. I always kept my phone on Do Not Disturb when I was taking time off for myself. Seeing a bunch of missed calls and emails stressed me out, and I wanted to detach from all that. I let out a puff of air, knowing what I’d be seeing if I decided to take a look at my phone. But the alcohol that was left in me couldn’t hold back so I reached for it anyways.

I quickly opened up the safari tab and typed my own name, something I was never keen on doing. I hadn’t done it for weeks actually, but I knew there was a part of me that needed to see what was being said. Just like that, a bunch of highlights of new articles and my name as well as hers were everywhere.

“Fuck..” I sighed, closing my eyes shut for a second. “Why..”

Camille Rowe, model and famed ex girlfriend of musician and heartthrob Harry Styles releases tell all book — including steamy details of  her former romance with the star!

Click. I waited for the page to load, nervously biting my lower lip.

There’s a lot of things we should thank Camille Rowe for — her Vogue tips on how to achieve the perfect Parisian makeup look, inspiring the fabulous Harry Styles Fine Line album and now releasing a book telling us ALL about her old relationship with the man himself!

Details in the book delve deep into her once what seemed great, but now known doomed relationship with the singer. She mentions details of cheating, jealously and what Harry’s really like in the bed. Thanks Camille — you’ve answered all of our questions. Turns out, Harry is just as packed as we thought he would be!

I couldn’t read it anymore, I felt humiliated and invaded of my privacy. Privacy. The one thing I valued most in my life, the one thing I hold onto like it is the most precious jewel in the world. Privacy — the one thing Camille knew was the most important aspect of my life. I grew up in the spotlight, placed under a huge amount of pressure and scrutiny. I felt as if I was made from a testing tube so specially to fit into a mold of a person I wasn’t.

For so long in my life I had felt as if people knew everything about me, even more than I did — and that’s a harsh feeling. I regained that privacy back after leaving the band and learned how to maintain a healthy balance of showcasing who I was to the world but holding back at the same time. It was what made my albums, my art, so special. Making my songs and putting them out there was  my own personal invitation to those who listened, to get a glimpse into my life.

I felt sick and the alcohol in my stomach stirred the more I thought about that damn book.I was getting older, and alcohol didn’t clique with my body the way it used to. I opened my messages up, seeing Camille’s name at almost the top of my list of new messages, probably trying to apologize.  What she should have done was ask if I was comfortable with her releasing a book that almost solely focused on our past relationship. A relationship that was well done with for almost 3 years now. For fucks sake, I’d always have love for the lady, but she never knew when she took things too far. I finally felt at peace and fully over her, and here she was ambushing my life and swiping away my beloved privacy.

I swiped left on the unopened messages, deleting them before even reading. I had to focus on the positive, that’s why I was here in the countryside after all. I hadn’t answered my publicist since the damn book came out last week, I didn’t even know where to start or what to stay. I wanted to keep silent, MIA.

Tonight with Colette though, I forgot about it all. She was stunning, there was no denying that. Funny too, and a little shy. She didn’t come off star struck by my presence, she treated me like any bloke off the street. Normal. Dropping her off at her cottage tonight, after spending the past few hours with her bloody gorgeous face, I wanted to snog her face off. Was I getting too old to be acting that way? I didn’t want to scare her off though, and that wasn’t really my style anymore.

Hookups and shit. The amount of one night stands from my days in the band were shameful. Thinking back to having security bring girls we thought were hot to our hotel rooms for a quick fuck, was so common back then, it was insane.  It was a part of my life that I felt deep regret for, and sickened me to think about. I was young, horny, and willing to give my body up to any girl. Most of the time, I felt awkward. I’d see a girl at the bar in a fancy hotel we were at, I wouldn’t even say a word to her, 20 minutes later I was back in my room, waiting for my security to drop her off for an hour or so. No phones, sign an NDA, show ID of proof of legal age, be my type and bam, she got to be fucked by Harry Styles.

Things were so much different now, I focused more on making those connections, I found it built more of an attraction. The lead up to the sex or the relationship, was now my favorite thing. After years of getting instant sex, waiting for it had now become the best part.

I shook my head, brushing away these invasive thoughts I wanted to avoid and memories I wanted to forget. Switching off the lamp beside me and placing my phone on charge, I dozed off.

#dogyears #dogyearsmasterlist #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanficiton #harry styles ff #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #1dff #1dffupdates #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x ofc #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #slowburn #friends to lovers

[advisortotheadvisor]

@nojohi hey, I was your holiday exchange person! I made some puckabrina fluff for you!

The first time it kind of happened was when Sabrina is thirteen.

She had been up since 5 AM because Daphne had woken everyone up banging on a pot and screaming that it was Christmas like it was new information the rest of the family hadn't been privy to until now. It was nearly 1 PM now and most of the adults were getting Christmas lunch ready, meaning that Sabrina (and Puck, kind of) was in charge of making sure none of the younger kids did anything hospital visit worthy.

Red was coloring quietly while Pinocchio talked her ear off about the new books he'd received; Basil chewed contently on the ear of his well-loved stuffed rabbit: Daphne had received a Nerf gun from ‘Santa’ and was currently doing her best to make it everyone else’s problem. Satisfied with the fact that nobody was in the process of burning the house down, Sabrina settled against the arm of the couch to watch whatever cheesy Christmas movie was playing and eat as much candy as she could until she inevitably lost her appetite trying to eat whatever food Granny Relda was whipping up. Unfortunately, a grubby hand stole both her peace and her candy cane.

“Your face is gonna freeze if you keep looking at me like that,” Puck responded cheerfully to her heated glare. There was a loud crunch as he bit the end of his ill-gotten treat. “You know, you humans like to pat yourselves on the back for all that lame stuff like going to the moon, but really your best achievement are these right here.” He waved the candy cane for emphasis. “Delicious and easy to sharpen into a weapon to use against your enemies? Genius!”

“Glad you're impressed,” Sabrina grumbled. “Now give it back.” She made a grab for it, but he simply leaned out of her reach. When she tried again, he fluttered away and hovered in the middle of the room. He shot her a smug smile and she saw red.

Oh, it was on.

She chased him around the room, nearly knocking over several stacks of books in the process. He would occasionally slow down, allowing her to almost catch him before picking up his speed again and leaving her in the dust with a high-pitched giggle. He finally stopped and hovered a couple inches above her, but before she could snatch the damn candy cane out of his hand (and maybe punch him a couple times for good measure), a loud, giddy voice interrupted them.

“Ooh, Puck and Sabrina are under the mistletoe!” Daphne cried, momentarily  distracted from shooting Nerf bullets at the empty soda can perched precariously on a stack of books. Sabrina looked up and, sure enough, there was a sprig of mistletoe strung up above their heads.

“Mistletoe?” Puck flew higher for a better look. “What’s it for? Does it give you some kind of horrible rash or something?” He asked, looking at Sabrina like hundreds of new prank ideas were already streaming through his mind.

“No, it-" Sabrina started to say, but was swiftly interrupted.

“Nope!” Daphne bounced over to them. “It's just a regular plant, but if you stand under it with somebody, you have to kiss them.”

“Kiss them? But that means…” Puck trailed off, eyes locking onto Sabrina's, and she could feel his blush mirrored on her own face.

“Whatever. It's just a dumb tradition,” Sabrina muttered, furiously shutting down any thoughts of her and Puck's decidedly less platonic interactions and the weird, warm feelings they conjured up.

Daphne looked like she wanted to protest, but, thankfully Granny Relda called them in for lunch before the conversation could get any more awkward.

(Her and Puck still avoid making eye contact for the rest if the day.)

--

The second time it almost happened, Sabrina was fourteen.

The wind bit into her nose and whipped at the exposed bit of wrist between the end of her sleeves and the start of her gloves. Snow had made its way into her shoes and was slowly soaking into her socks. Her fingers felt like icicles masquerading as a part of her body. But, despite the miserable weather, Sabrina was having the time of her life.

Why? Because she was in the middle of a free-for-all snowball fight death match.

It was almost 10 AM and despite the inviting warmth inside the house, nothing could beat the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Snowball fights might be relatively tame for other families, but add in a couple everafters and Grimms, and it became a dog-eat-dog world.

Sabrina panted as she hid behind a tree, fingers curled as tightly as they could around a snowball without crushing it. From her vantage point, she had a clear shot at Red and Daphne's hastily constructed snow fort. But, before she could make a move, a twig snapped behind her, immediately putting her on the defensive.

It was Puck, hiding behind his own tree only a couple feet away. She raised her weapon, but he shook his head frantically at her and pointed at Red and Daphne's fort with a raised eyebrow. Two years of battle strategies and living together meant that Sabrina could read the look on his place like it was a book; he was proposing a sneak attack. She nodded, and then held up three fingers. On the count of three.

Three.

Two.

Before she could lower her last finger, Puck transformed into a polar bear and charged. He roared and the little girls shrieked in response. They tried to fight back, but it was in vain considering that Puck was literally a fucking bear. He knocked the their fort down and then swiped at the snow with his paw, sending it showering over the girls. It was then that Sabrina attacked from the left flank, pelting them mercilessly.

But, just when it looked like victory would be theirs, Daphne reached into her pocket and pulled out a small ring. Sabrina's world was upended as the snow she was standing on rose up and then dropped back down on her and Puck.

“Using magic is cheating,” Sabrina said as she wiped the snow off her face.

“You never said that,” Daphne chirped.

“She's got a point,” Puck pointed out. “Good one, Marshmallow.” He shot her a finger gun and she shot one back

“Don't take her side!” Sabrina said, shoving his shoulder. “She's the reason we lost!”

“Aww, did the wittle baby wose the snowball fwight?” Puck cooed, his baby voice dripping with sugary sweet condescension as he shoved her back

“You lost too, dummy!” She cried, nearly sending him sprawling with her next push. It continued like that for a little bit, playful and pointless fighting without any heat behind it. But, despite the lack of heat in their argument, there was still a warmth settling into Sabrina's gut because this, this was easy as breathing. It sparked something deep inside that she didn't want to name.

But, when Puck tripped over a buried tree root and fell onto her, the spark erupted into a raging inferno because suddenly with him on top of her, their faces hovering only a couple inches apart, Sabrina couldn't feel the cold around her through the abrupt heat pooling in her cheeks. Puck stared down at and for a eternity of milliseconds, the only things that seemed to exist were the two of them and soft sounds of their breathing.

The moment stretched out long, too long, and if it stretched any longer it felt like everything they weren't talking about was going to bubble to the surface and spill over so Sabrina found herself pushing Puck away from her with a shout of, “Get off me, you gasbag!”

That moment was quietly added to the pile of Things They Don't Talk About and Sabrina swore to herself that the redness of her cheeks was a result of the cold.

--

Sabrina was fifteen when it finally happened for real.

Her and Puck were outside sword fighting with the swords Charming had gifted her. They were dull and blunted training swords, but still a definite upgrade from Puck's old wooden swords. Veronica supervised from the porch as their blades clashed.

Puck thrust forward with his sword and she blocked it, quickly twisting her own weapon into a disarming maneuver. Puck's sword fell to the snow with little fanfare and she snatched it up before he could even move to pick it up. Puck seethed, but couldn't do anything; they'd agreed before the match that all forms of shapeshifting and other magic were prohibited. She smiled smugly about her victory and held out his sword for him to take back and his hand closed around the hilt before she could move hers off. A warmth that juxtaposed the cold air around them filled Sabrina's body.

She didn't know who started it. Maybe he stepped forward first, maybe she did. All that mattered was that they were much closer than before and the only things between them were their hovering, visible breaths and all the things they refuse to talk about.

This next part though, this was all Sabrina.

She kissed him.

She decided that she was sick of this, sick of all these what-ifs and should-haves and almosts. She was sick of this game they were playing where they flirted and teased but never made any real progress. She was sick of saying nothing when she wanted to say everything they both already knew.

So she kissed him.

It made it sound simpler than it was. If she had to describe it in clichés, she would say it was all of them. Fireworks and butterflies and the sun going supernova all at once in her stomach. In that moment, she didn't care about the cold seeping into her fingers or the layer of sweat covering both of them or the fact that her mom was still outside with them. The world could have exploded for all she cared.

The kiss lasted five seconds and an eternity at the same time. Their lips broke apart, but instead of pulling away completely, Puck simply rested his forehead against her own.

“I always knew you had a crush on me,” Puck teased softly.

“Shut up,” she said, struggling to keep a grin off her face and out of her voice.

It might have taken two almost-kisses to get here, but hey, third time's the charm, right?

#sisters grimm #sisters grimm holiday exchange #mine #my writing

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #367

“i should warn you that you may fuck me, but chances are i’m gonna fuck you over”

Where was the last place you went for vacation? The beach. When was the last time you wore makeup? Halloween. Do you watch soaps or drama series? If so, which ones? Not currently. What’s your favourite tomato variety? I hate tomatoes. What was your very first pet like? Dad had a dog named Trigger when I was born, but I have no memory of her, so I'm excluding her. I consider our first family pet to be Chance, a cat my mom took in after finding her literally in the trash. She was... god, incredible. She was a loyal friend, and I can imagine no greater mother than she was (she legit fought off a rottweiler head-on to protect her kittens). She was so smart, so gentle, and just simply amazing. I'll always miss her. What was the best school project you remember doing? Looking back, despite the fact it TERRIFIED me before, that would be my senior project presentation. It was about snake misconceptions and fallacies, so I made a slideshow to present to the special ed class. I made drawings for them to color, word searches, all that kind of stuff. They were just the sweetest and seemed really into it. What’s your favourite type of fish to eat? None. What kind of an old person do you think you’ll become? I really... don't like thinking about this. Like I'm weak enough now at 25, I can't imagine how my, say, 60s would be. I hope and just about pray that my physical health will improve, but I'm just going to exclude that part entirely from this answer. Personality-wise and such, I have a feeling I'll be the quiet and sweet kind, the one that loves her (hopeful) spouse like crazy, and comes most alive on Halloween if I live in a place where children come trick-or-treating. I imagine I would LOVE that. I'd love to be the type that goes on morning jogs to help stay spry. Which well-known person’s death shocked you the most, if any? Steve Irwin and Chester Bennington might be tied. Both were so, so sudden. Steve was like, invincible to my childhood eyes, and when I heard about Chester's death, I thought it was just a sick rumor. Two amazing people that died way too soon. What’s the craziest colour you’d dye your hair? That would depend on personal opinions. I want to dye my hair LOTS of colors though, if that tells you anything. What’s the coolest hobby one of your friends has? Uhhhh. Idk. Name a video game you can play over and over again: Shadow of the Colossus. It's a pretty short game if you know what you're doing, and it's super relaxing to me and just so goddamn pretty to look at. Every time I've played it has just been a pleasant experience. Do you like meatloaf? Yeah, it's fine. How about Meatloaf? I know who he is, but I've never really listened to his music. Do you take time to do charitable work? If so, what do you do? No. ;_; Especially with all the free time I have, I really should... What is something that will make you laugh instantly? Okay, don't ask, but if I for a SECOND see that commercial of Mr. Clean dancing while he's cleaning, I will die because of memories. What is something you hope you will never inherit from a specific relative? Diabetes. It runs heavily in my family. Name a movie you wouldn’t watch solely based on its name: The Human Centipede. No. Thank you. Have you ever played in a stack of hay bales? No. What’s your dearest souvenir? The stuffed moose I got at Cabela's during a visit to Ohio. I named him Brownie, and he was my "childhood plushie" we all have. Is there a lot of graffiti around your neighbourhood? Not in the actual area I live in, but there are DEFINITELY places where it's a pigsty of distasteful shit. Have you ever made your own soda? (Soda Stream doesn’t count!) No. Do you have a hobby that forces you out of the house? If so, what is it? Nature photography. Have you ever been part of a theater group? No, that stuff doesn't interest me. What’s the most ecological thing you do? We recycle, and I also use metal straws. Would you stop eating meat, if you had to raise and slaughter it yourself? Absolutely. There is no fucking way I could do it. What’s your favourite board game? Why do you like it best? I like Clue just because of the mystery-solving factor, and I think it's kinda cool how you can think ahead and use other's findings to your own advantage to win the game pretty early. Besides English, what other languages can you speak? Some German. It's gotten pretty weak with neglect, though. Besides English, what other languages can you read? I can read German well. What thing/person/happening has made you the happiest you’ve been? This is a complicated answer that I just don't feel like elaborating on. What’s the most freeing thing you’ve ever done? Letting Jason go. Have you ever had a restaurant dish that was made with bugs? If not, would you even want to try one? No, and I'm not interested. Have you ever tasted birch sap? No. How about the young buds/shoots of spruce trees? No. Which edible flowers have you tasted? Honeysuckles. What has been your worst restaurant experience? Well, it's a fast food restaurant, but lemme tell you about my vegetarian encounter with Burger King. I ordered their veggie burger. Which they have. It's not a secret. These idiots gave me a bun with tomato and lettuce, and I think mayo on it, after sounding confused when Mom was ordering for me. Mom went back in there of course to tell them, and oh god was the manager pissed, lol. I got my veggie burger in the end. What’s the most immature, adolescent thing that still makes you laugh? Some sexually inappropriate jokes can still get me sadly, lol. Have you ever had a life-threatening condition? If so, what was it? Not literally, but boy do I think depression counts. Do you ever compare your life to somebody else’s? If so, why? Y E P. I can't tell you why, I just... do it. I look at other's successes and am just like, "Why aren't I there yet?", and beat myself up about being a failure. What is a food item or a dish you absolutely cannot stand? Brussel sprouts, asparagus, runny eggs, many other things because I'm just mega picky. Have you ever had a custom print done on a shirt? If so, what was it? Just the spray paint kind that vendors like to do at the beach and stuff. I don't remember any I got, though. What does your favourite mug look like? It's black with a Markiplier quote on it, given to me by Sara. :') Do you ever read other people’s survey answers? Yeah! Friends', anyway. I love learning all the obscure things about them. Do you like daytime or night time better? Why? Daytime, specifically early morning, because it's better for my depression. Are you more comfortable as a leader or a follower? A follower that isn't afraid to speak up when I'm really against something. What is your favourite song right now at this very moment? I've been really into "7empest" by Tool lately, and the synthwave edit of "Voices" by Motionless In White. If you watched The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, who was your favourite character? I don't remember it well, but I think I liked the butler. Was there even a butler? Who was your first online friend? Emma. :') Do you have any plants in your home? No. If you wear makeup, what’s the most outrageous colour you use? I only ever use black. What was the last photograph you took? My cat being adorable while sleeping. <3 Have you ever submitted a video to Funniest Home Videos? No. What was the first sport you learned how to play? I want to say soccer? I absolutely hated it. Do you have a headache at the moment? Yes, actually. I've really been attacked by the Covid shot side effects. Are your parents still together? No, thank god. What was the last hot food you ate? I made a chicken and I think pesto (some Italian noodles, idk) Healthy Choice bowl for dinner last night. Have you ever seen a meteor shower? No. :( Do you ever feel afraid people will question your sanity? I'm sure people have before, and back then? Rightfully so. Which X Factor audition(s) was/were your favorite? Never watched it. Were you a straight A student in spelling and grammar? Always. It's so weird how it's gotten worse with time since leaving school, even though I write... Were you a straight A student in math? Yeah, no. I usually got Bs or Cs. What is your favorite shade of yellow? Pastel. I don't really like yellow. What is something you want to accomplish before you turn 30? Have a stable job. Are you afraid of getting yelled at? YES. Do you feel a connection to the moon? It's not something I think about, so not really, but I do believe all things in the universe are connected in some way. We are simply a part of nature, as all else is. What does your heart long for? Contentment in who I am and where I am in life. I know I also miss being in love. Do you know what your purpose in life is? We have no innate purpose; we make our own, and I want mine to be to show others that there is always hope for yourself in yourself, and also to spread the message of love of all animals. Did you decorate a pumpkin this year? Last year I didn't. I really should change that this go around. Have you ever seen a fox? Yes! They're a kind of rare sight here sadly, so when I had the opportunity to photograph a fox tragically as roadkill, it was a photographic experience I won't forget. God, I wanted to pet it (I obviously didn't), but I did talk to it about how beautiful (s)he was as I got some shots. I never had a harder time leaving one of those angels I've taken pictures of. Do you find Halloween fun or scary? FUN!!!!!! Is there anything about Halloween you find offensive? Not at all. What do the trees look like where you live? I mean, there's a variety, but the staple that you see literally everywhere are pine trees. What is your dream vacation? Somewhere with mountains, clear lakes, cool weather, beautiful and various wildlife... What was the best vacation you’ve been on so far? Disney World as a kid. What is the best class trip you’ve been on? The zoo in the 5th grade. It was the one occasion I got to see meerkats. Did you like field trips when you were a kid? I lived for them. Do you find museums boring or interesting? I find science museums to be very, very fascinating. Art ones are great, too. What are three issues you are passionate about? LGBT rights, the pro-choice movement, and wildlife conservation, to name a few. Would you ever wear a shirt with your country’s flag on it? No. I'm not patriotic enough at all. What size is your bed? Queen. What’s a medicine that makes you sleepy? When we were experimenting with my Klonopin dosage, I learned that 3mg was enough to knock me on my ASS. Do you like bath bombs? I mean they're pretty, but I wouldn't waste money on 'em. Who are your favorite small YouTubers? Yikes, a looooooot. But this also depends on what you think qualifies as "small." Most of my favorite "small" YTers are tarantula keepers or sub-1M let's players. Who are your favorite big YouTubers? Markiplier obviously, Snake Discovery, Good Mythical Morning (even if I don't watch them anymore, they are veeery dear to my heart and I will always support them), Sam & Colby... Again, there's a lot. When you don't watch TV and YT instead, you really get attached to a lot of them. What was your favorite girl group when you were growing up? Would you believe me if I said Pussycat Dolls? haha Do you like Disney movies? Um, DUH. Were you ever in the popular crowd? No. Have you ever used an outhouse? UGH, at like childhood sports games, yes. I could NEVER nowadays, oh my god. Could you possibly write a successful novel? I think I have the creativity to, but not the dedication. Are there any foods that make you gag? Beans, for one. I just canNOT with them. It's a completely involuntary reaction. Have you ever had blonde highlights in your hair? I think I did? Who was the last person you video-chatted with? The lady who was seeing if I qualified for TMS therapy. Do you think sleeve tattoos look trashy? Definitely not, I love those. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? I don't actually want one, but if I did, I'd go to a serious professional to get THE Darkiplier smile. :') If u know u know. Do you have any stickers on any of your electronic devices? No. Do you think half blonde/half dark brown hair is attractive? It looks great on some people, but it's not my favorite combo.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''leave a scar'' by marilyn manson

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 19

Elena pats me on the back again and I raise a shaky hand to my mouth, wipe my lips on the back of my wrist. The suit tastes rubbery and horrible and the cloying plastic aftertaste of it mixes with the bile on my tongue in a truly awful way.

She looks a little green herself but she’s holding it together better than I am, at least. None of the others on the team, even Euler, lost their lunch.

“You okay?” she asks softly, but I don’t trust myself to speak, not yet. I shake my head narrowly, trying to avoid any sort of quick motions, trusting the roiling feeling in my gut. I don’t think there’s anything left for me to yak up, really, but just the quick convulsive retching motion is enough for me to want to die.

Thank goodness Elena had seen what was going to happen and hit the quick-release catch on my helmet first and shoved me outside. I shuddered there on my knees puking my guts up, the indelible image of the mangled body there in the station burned in the backs of my eyelids, the terrified face, the marks as though something had taken a great ice-cream scoop to the man’s neck and chest, huge welts and suck-marks like he’d been mauled like an octopus. And then, of course…

“I don’t understand it,” I hear Crookshank saying from inside the station. The rest of the team is huddled around the body still, with only myself, Elena, and Klaus still outside. Elena’s laid her rifle down on the floor but Klaus still has his in his hands, low around his hips but ready to bring up and fire at a moment’s notice. I can see his eyes darting around the titanic space we’re in, not panicked but watchful. “I don’t understand it,” Crookshank repeats. “Anything that could have torn a man fucking clean in half would have been too damn big to get in here.”

More voices, Peter says something and the Sergeant mutters a curse, same disgusted tone of voice strained even harsher. “I have to tell Veret something,” I hear him growl.

I blow a breath out and stagger to my feet. Elena takes me under the arm and helps me up and I cling onto her gratefully. I feel a little better now, but I don’t know how I’ll handle seeing that body again. I’d never thought of myself as having a particularly weak stomach, but I guess I’d never seen anything that gruesome up close. Even Rey’s death, just a couple of days ago, was relatively clean from my perspective. He’d been a fair distance away from me and the bullet had entered the back of his head; I’m sure the front would have been ghastly but he fell on his face, and I never saw anything other than that small red pinprick welling with blood before he fell and that was that.

“Was that your first time seeing a dead body?” Elena asks me softly, and I shake my head.

“No,” I tell her. My voice is shaky and I cough, feel the coating of bile at the back of my throat shift, and then I swallow hard. The taste of it surfaces again and I make a face. “No,” I repeat, a little more clearly. “The other day when Rey – well, you’d know him as the guy who tried to rush the Pit –“

“Wait,” Elena says, frowning. “You were there? I heard that they picked up a couple of people who’d gotten in somehow and one of them got shot, but I didn’t know you –“

“Yeah,” I say. I realize belatedly that I’d sort of skimmed over this part when I’d told Elena how I’d arrived at the Pit. “Peter got me in and –“

“What?”

I look at her and frown. “What?”

“Peter got you in?”

“Uh, yeah, he – wait, you didn’t know he was doing that?”

Elena is staring at the station. There’s something smoldering at the depth of her gaze and I realize with an immediate stab of trepidation that I may have just fucked up. Inside I can hear Peter’s voice. “- I’m telling you, a shamble wouldn’t have been able to do this –“ he says, all I can hear before Crookshank’s rough baritone drowns him out.

“Are you telling me,” Elena says, “that Peter’s the one that has been letting all those people in all these years?”

“I thought you knew,” I say quietly. I can feel the anger pouring off of her and it makes me nervous, like I’m eyeing a very large dog that’s currently in the process of sizing me up. “I thought it was common knowledge, I thought everybody knew –“

“Roan,” Elena says, her voice tight. “I’ve had to kill somebody because of that bastard.”

“What?”

Elena pinches the bridge of her nose. “A couple of years ago,” she says, “someone got in with a bomb. And just like the other night, they were running at the Pit, they were going to chuck the bomb down the orifice. I was on patrol that night, I shot him. I shouldn’t have even been on patrol but someone was fucking sick and they didn’t have anyone else. The entire time I was with the Coast Guard I hadn’t even fired a gun except at the range, I was a damn cave diver. You’re telling me Peter’s the person who’s been letting them in?”

“I thought you knew,” I repeat helplessly. “I thought everybody knew, I didn’t know it was –“

“Does Veret know about this?”

She looks over at me then and goddam it, I flinch. “Yes,” I tell her, my lips barely moving. Elena spits.

“That fucking bitch,” she growls. “Did she know the whole time?”

“Elena, please don’t –“

“Did she fucking know?”

Klaus looks over, a frown on his normally tranquil brow. “Elena,” he starts, but she shoots him a murderous glance and he holds his hands up and takes a few steps further away, shooting me a sympathetic glance as he does.

“Yes,” I tell her, feeling as though I’m stabbing Makado in the back.

“That cunt,” Elena says, very quietly. She gets to her feet then, with purpose, and starts for the station, but I reach out and take her by the wrist. She tries to jerk her hand free of me but I hold on tight. “Let go of me, Roan,” she says.

“Elena, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you,” she tells me. “This isn’t your fault. This is Peter and Veret, they’re the ones who’ve been letting people in so they can fucking die down here, so they can profit off of fucking thrill-seekers. I am going to blow the lid off this so hard that –“

“Wait,” I say, realizing that she must not know. She must not know about the disease, the fucking – psychic illness or whatever the hell it is. And then I realize that if I try to explain, I’m going to sound like a damn lunatic.

Makado had said it was fairly top-secret. That it’d get me put on a list. So it must be something the regular rangers didn’t know about, except for Peter of course.

Elena’s looking at me expectantly and I don’t know what I’m going to tell her.

“Please don’t,” I go with eventually, knowing how lame it is. Elena’s eyes soften fractionally.

“Roan,” she says, using the same tone one might to explain something difficult to a child, “I know he’s your friend, shit, half this team idolizes him in one way or another, but what he did was not okay. And he deserves –“

“There’s something you don’t know,” I blurt. “Something I can’t tell you, something secret. It wasn’t about the money, he had another reason, he and Makado both had a good reason, but I can’t tell you –“

I can see anger flash across her face for just a moment and knowing that it’s directed at me feels like something is torn inside of me, like some very important piece of tissue just behind my ribs has broken open and is leaking everywhere. “Roan –“ she starts, and then her eyes flicker across my face and I see her bite her lip. “Don’t cry,” she tells me softly, and then I feel the little trickle of moisture making its way down my cheek, and I turn away with a mumbled curse, wiping at my face.

“Goddam it,” I growl, and Elena takes my hand hesitantly, and though my initial instinct is to whip it out of her grasp, I’m able to stop myself.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Hey, hey, stop. It’s okay, I’m sorry.”

“Do you trust me?” I ask her.

“Yeah, of course.” Zero hesitation, as if it shouldn’t even be called into doubt. I smile a little.

Klaus has taken a few steps further away and is minding his own business so obviously he might as well be screaming it. The poor guy is clearly uncomfortable and something about the way it’s so telegraphed is immediately endearing to me. “Okay,” I whisper. I feel Elena lean in behind me. “Then trust me on this. Please.”

She blows out a big breath; I can feel it on the back of my neck and immediately a stream of goosebumps race down both my arms. I take a step backwards, a very small one, and feel her against me. I want her to hold me but she doesn’t.

Elena holds herself very still, and then gradually lets my hand go. I turn and face her. “Please,” I tell her. I put my arms up around her neck and pull her closer to me, touch our foreheads together. She doesn’t want to but she smiles, avoids my eyes. She bites it back down after a moment but I still saw it. “I want to tell you but –“

“Why can’t you?”

“Because it might put you in danger.”

“Why the hell do you know, then?”

“Because Peter and Makado told me.”

Elena snorts. “So they gave you an excuse and you believed them?”

“It wasn’t an excuse,” I say sharply, then soften my tone when Klaus looks around at us. “It wasn’t an excuse. It’s a secret. Nobody’s supposed to know. The kind of thing that gets you on a list, that gets you disappeared if you try to tell someone.”

“Bullshit.”

“Thought you said you trusted me.”

“Wow, ouch.” Elena scrunches up her nose and nuzzles against mine. “I do trust you,” she says. “I trust that you believe what you’re saying. Whether it’s true or not is a different story.”

“I’m not sure that’s the same thing as trusting me.”

“Look,” I tell her, “just don’t do anything – don’t do anything stupid. Not yet. When this is all over we can –“

She barks a laugh, pulls away from me grinning. “Alright, I’ll wait to do stupid things until after the mission.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I just thought it was funny the way you said it,” she tells me. Somehow her hand has found mine again and I can feel myself starting to relax. Then her face grows darker. “Roan, do you know how many bodies I’ve had to retrieve from gastric pits? I’m the only diver on the team, there’s two of us in the entire company. Anytime they find somebody else, it’s either me or him who has to suit up and dive in and grab the remains. How many? Guess.”

“I don’t want to –“

“Guess,” she tells me, more insistent now.

“Since you started?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. Ten? Twenty?”

“About a hundred.”

“What?”

“Like one-fifty or one-seventy-five total, cause the other guy got hired a year after me, so for the first year I handled all of them, 24/7. Do you have any idea what it’s like, diving into an acid pool, knowing that if there is a single spot of wear on your suit that you didn’t catch, a single tear somewhere that you didn’t see, you could end up either dead or crippled?”

“Elena, I –“

“Do you have any idea,” she says, her overcast eyes shining, “what it’s like to dive down there and find a puddle of jelly with a dissolving ribcage and skull sticking out of it? What it’s like to see half a face staring at you, with a gastric bristleworm peeking out of the eyesocket and trying to bite you? And you have to gather it all up and bring it back up with you, even if your hands sink into it and it feels like fucking jello?”

“No, I don’t,” I murmur. My stomach’s done an uncomfortable lurch in step with the images she’s putting in my head and I close my eyes and focus on my breathing.

“I have nightmares sometimes,” she says. “Well, not sometimes, more like most of the time. About those dives, about the things I found down there, about the acid getting into my suit and burning me alive, about drowning in it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“I’m still sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

She offers me a little snort, fleeting mirth tempered with something approaching despair. The way she looks at me, I realize, this must have been eating her for – for years. At least. “Deserve,” she says, spitting the word like it’s a curse. “I won’t rock the boat – for now. But there’s going to be a reckoning when we’re done here, and if Veret and Peter can’t give me a very good reason why they let this happen, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

She looks at me menacingly, as if daring me to argue with her, and I bundle up the knot of trepidation lurking in my throat and toss it aside. “Okay,” I tell her. “I’m okay with that.”

“You are?”

I shoot her a skeptical look. “Yeah, duh. This whole trip, this whole time I’ve been down here, you’ve been the only –“

“Merriweather!” the Sergeant roars from within the station. “If you’re quite done puking your guts up out there, I need you inside to take some pictures!”

I pull a face at Elena and turn to go, but she grabs my wrist. “Wait,” she says. “The only what?”

“MERRIWEATHER!”

I roll my eyes. “Tell you later?”

“You better,” she growls, but it’s with an unwilling smile, and then I turn and blow my breath out and walk back into the station, trying not to focus on the way my boots stick in the blood, still wet and glutinous on the floor.

 * * *

 “No,” Peter says again, patiently, “it could not have been a copepod.”

“Goddam it,” Crookshank says, his face growing redder, “what else has the strength to do this?”

“A copepod can’t fit inside the station. Even a small one wouldn’t be able to, it would not be able to get through the door.”

“So it tore him apart outside.”

“And what, threw the body in here?”

I’m still feeling a little queasy but even I chuckle at that, just a little.

“I don’t care what the hell did it,” the Sergeant says, “so stop fucking arguing about it. I just got off the phone with Veret and checked with her, there should have been four other people down here other than this guy. Hughes, you and Sato did a sweep of the entire organ, you didn’t find any trace of them?”

“Nothing at all,” Ellis says. His eyes are wide still. “Like they disappeared.”

“Sato,” the Sergeant says, turning to Fumi. “How many arterioles branch out from Oyster’s Shame?”

“All of them, or just ones a person could reasonably fit through?” he asks. He’s already started tapping at his wristpad and I can see a map of our surroundings, wireframed and ghostly, hovering and rotating there.

“Just the ones a person could get into.”

He taps for a little longer. “There’s eighteen.”

“Alright,” the Sergeant says, looking around at us. His eyes are dark, menacing, purposeful. They settle, eventually, on Euler. “Mister Euler, get Joker set up in the center of the organ. Same defensive characteristics as we went over last night.”

Euler nods and hustles outside, and then we hear the thunderous squelching footsteps as he gets Joker set up. I look around for a panicked moment and then remember I’d left my helmet on the table in the other room – I’ll just grab it before I leave. The radio tag in it is what keeps Joker from thinking I don’t belong.

“Everybody, pair up,” the Sergeant says. “We’ve got eighteen vents to search and not much time to do it in. I want constant radio contact, and if anyone finds anything, get on the horn immediately. Understand?”

The team nods and murmurs assent, and favorite partners join up, slide on helmets, check magazines. I crouch down on my haunches and continue photographing the bent steel on the interior of the doorframe. It looks as though a titan hand had reached in and caught itself there, crunching the metal to oblivion. Then I realize the Sergeant is still standing there, staring at me.

“Uh.”

“Miss Merriweather, ‘everyone’ includes you.”

Behind him, Elena gives me a little wave and a grin. “You want me to go out there?” I ask. “And, you know, search for –“

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m a photographer.”

“You’re a body,” he corrects me. “Do what you’re told. Novak, with me.”

Elena frowns, glancing at me. “But Roan – “

“You girls can have your tea party later. I need you to check a gastric bulb that’s along vent 45-b out of here. Merriweather, you’re with Hughes.”

Ellis and Fumi share a glance, then a shrug, and the groupings rearrange, and with a sigh I rise to my feet, my knee letting out a loud crack that nearly makes me jump. Ellis grins at me and I grin back and for a moment, just a moment, I’m able to forget about the body, or what remains of one, lurking there in the other room.

 * * *

 For the dozenth time since we made our cautious way into our assigned ventricle, Ellis whips around, his slug rifle held in far too shaky hands for my taste. “Did you hear that?” he asks again, and I give a perfunctory and weary glance behind us.

“Nope.”

“You didn’t?” he asks. “I could have sworn…”

“Ellis,” I say gently. “Do you think you might be, I don’t know, a little freaked out right now?”

“Freaked out? Me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not freaked out,” he says. “I’m just, you know.”

“Staying alert?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Exactly.”

There’s an ominous gurgle from ahead and I stop. “Okay,” I say, “this time I heard that one.”

“I did too,” Ellis says, glancing over at me. “But I think that was just the Pit.”

“Just the walls or something?”

“Yeah. You know, contracting.”

“Oh, okay,” I say, and relax a little. “You’d know better than I would,” I say, more for my benefit than his, and he nods.

“I was going to mention,” he says, peeking both his head and his gun around the corner upcoming. “I thought it was really brave of you to, you know, even volunteer to come down here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. Not a lot of people would do that, much less people, you know, without any real training.”

I laugh. “Are you calling me brave or foolish?”

“The two overlap, don’t they?”

“To a certain degree. Are we not going that way?” I ask as Ellis walks back past me the way we came, gesturing for me to follow. He shakes his head.

“No, the passage narrows, we wouldn’t be able to get through. There wasn’t anything down there anyway.”

So we head back. Other than the normal assorted creepy-crawlies all over the place there hasn’t been any sign of the ephemeral monster, big and strong enough to tear a person in half at the waist, ragged splintered spinal cord leaking –

Stop.

We haven’t found any of the other four people who worked at the Deep Listening Station, and judging by the lack of transmissions on the radio, none of the other pairs have either. I’d been a little apprehensive at first, watching Elena and the Sergeant vanish down a cavernous fleshy hole in the pockmarked wall of the chamber, while Ellis and I edged around another one of the vast pearl-like waxy secretions slumped cratering in the spongy floor, but after about half an hour without any radio calls other than routine check-ins, I’d began to relax. Ellis hadn’t, but I’d began to realize that he was just naturally a high-strung, twitchy little bastard, so maybe that’s understandable.

We’ve got two more vents to check, and in all likelihood they’ll be as empty as this one. It seems as though whatever did the deed in there, in the station, just crept in, killed the poor guy in there, and then ran off with his legs. It didn’t seem, in Slate’s expert opinion, quite messy enough in there for it, whatever it was, to have actually eaten the lower body while it was inside the station.

But then, I’d thought to myself, why would it have ran? Most animals I know of prefer to scarf everything down immediately if they’re able to. Harder to get your food stolen if it’s inside your stomach. Maybe that rule doesn’t apply inside the Pit, but it seems logical. Then, another thing – yeah, most animals will run off with food that’s too big or too much to eat right away, but if that was the case, why leave the upper body? Those marks on it certainly seemed like evidence of some kind of consumption, I guess, although not a method I was familiar with, but there was still plenty left to eat on it. I try to keep my mind from wandering onto the terrible expression on what was left of the man’s face but I’m not successful, and I grimace inside my helmet.

It’s pointless. I don’t know any of these creatures, I don’t know what sort of twisted behaviorology evolution has forced on them. Maybe it made perfect sense to run off with the legs without eating them.

But what the hell happened to the other four?

That’s the question eating at me, and I can’t see any way around it, I can’t see any meaningful explanation. They’d left their suits behind so they’d left in a hurry, they didn’t leave any communication, no logs or notes or anything. Ellis had looked through the computer system there and hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. It was like they just…decided to leave. Went for a walk and hadn’t gone back.

I think back through a dozen foggily-remembered spooky stories of similar disappearances, picked up through sort of cultural osmosis, absorbed from clickbait article titles and five-second daytime TV snippets, but I can’t think of anything useful. And then, because there really is nothing else to do, I look over at Ellis. “Alright,” I say. “Tell me what you think happened in there.”

“In the listening station?”

“Yeah.”

He blows a breath out, lets the words fade. All I can hear is squelching footprints and vague writhing from the flesh around us. “I think,” he says finally, “that whatever it was, I think it’s smart.”

“Yeah?”

“Cause, think about it,” he says. “It gets in there, it’s big and tough and strong enough to rip that dude clean in half, you know? What makes it want to leave after that?”

I shrug. “Maybe it was chasing the other four.”

“Nah, nah, nah, see, I bet it didn’t give a fuck about the other four. It knew it was in a place where humans were and even if it managed to kill one, shit, even if it managed to kill all five of them, it knew we were going to get mad and come looking for it.”

“So you think it ran away?”

“I think that it’s hiding somewhere, watching us, waiting for a good moment. You know?”

“Christ,” I mutter, “don’t say things like that.”

“I’m just saying, we have to be realistic.”

“What do you think it was?”

Ellis shrugs. “Copepod, that’s what I figure. I don’t know what else would have been strong enough to tear someone in half like that.”

“Peter thinks a copepod wouldn’t have fit inside the station,” I point out, remembering what I’d heard earlier while I was busy throwing up. Ellis shrugs.

“Who knows, man. All I know is, there’s some bullshit going on here and I don’t want to be anywhere near this place when whatever did it decides to come poking around again.”

We pause back in the main chamber so I can pop another SD card into the camera. I’ve manage to save it from the worst of the wear I was anticipating we’d run into but it’s still slick with gore from hours spent in the Pit. I’ve managed to keep the lenses clean, for the most part, and as far as I can tell the footage I’m getting is decent, but there’s going to be a lot of it.

I’ve been trying not to think of the next steps we have to take. If we’ll even keep going, after what’s happened here, after what we’ve found. Maybe Makado will want to pull us out, send more people down.

Or maybe, I reckon with a little sinking grind at the bottom of my stomach, maybe this is just normal here in the Pit. Maybe it’s normal to have one guy dead and four missing, maybe that’s just – Christ, what day is it? Down here it’s so dark that my mind just registers it as a constant endless night. I don’t even know what time it is, how light it ought to be on the surface. If I look at the time on my camera all it says is 6:54 PM, but I know I never set it properly, I didn’t bother to, so there’s no way that’s accurate. I’d ask Ellis but he’s gone back to jumping at shadows again. He keeps asking me if I saw that shadow down at the end of the vent we’re searching next, and I keep telling him that I was busy fumbling with my camera, I didn’t see anything.

I think he just misses Fumi. The past couple days the two of them have been inseparable, and I assume from how they’ve been acting that that’s the normal state of affairs for missions like these.

Ellis shakes his head finally. “I don’t know, man. I’ve been down here for too long, my eyes are playing tricks on me. You know?”

I can’t help but smile at him. “Yeah, I know,” I agree, slapping my camera closed and booting it up again. We stand there a little longer while it does and then finally I angle it upwards at him. “Smile,” I tell him, and he does, throws up a peace sign as well. “Beautiful.”

“At least you got my good side,” he grins, and I can’t help it, I laugh, even though it’s a dumb joke. Then we let the sound trail off and we make our way into the vent, the ribbed, dripping ceiling closing over us like the roof of a mouth.

We don’t have to wait long before it happens. Screaming, muffled as though it were passing through multiple layers of flesh, and then gunfire, and even though it too is muffled it still makes me and Ellis flinch.

“Sounds like it’s right fuckin’ next to us,” Ellis says, working the action on his rifle. The radio has ignited with voices, calling for status and such, but among them I can’t hear Crookshank’s deep, surly growl. I frown.

“Wait, it’s Crookshank. Crookshank and – who?” I ask. Ellis thinks for a moment, then nods.

“Slate,” he says. “They got paired up.”

We rush our way back to the main chamber, then listen. The screaming and gunshots have died down by now and left in its wake an ominous silence. I don’t see anybody else, although the radio is still squawking down at my belt. Everyone else must still be deep inside their vents, it was just chance that we were at the mouth of ours.

A gunshot sounds again and this time I have a fix on it – I saw the blare of a muzzle-flash reflecting crazily off the sweat-slick walls of a vent on the other end of the chamber. I point to it and look back at Ellis, the words already forming in my mouth, but I can see from his face they aren’t necessary, he saw it too.

Whatever trepidation and nerves he might have felt before are gone now, I can see. His mouth is a thin-set line and I can see determination in his eyes, and without anything more than a nod we both set off sprinting towards the vent. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest but in a good way, in a reckoning sort of way, like I’ve grabbed reins I never knew were hanging just in front of my face.

We don’t even make it to the mouth of the vent, though, before Crookshank blazes out of it as though the devil were chasing him, bowling me over and careening into Ellis. The man’s face is red as a beetroot and his eyes are wide and terrified. Ellis had almost shot him before our headlamps had caught his face and suit and we’d realized that he wasn’t a monster, some prehistoric annelid come back for seconds. Ellis struggles with the larger man’s weight for a moment but finally gets him back on his feet. “John,” Ellis says, “what the fuck –“

“Don’t even fucking go down there!” Crookshank yells. He staggers a little and then breaks into a run again, heading for the station. He knocked the breath out of me and that combined with a heavy landing right on my ass left me dazed for a moment, but I manage to clamber to my feet with a minimum of cursing.

“Where the fuck is Slate?” I shriek after him, trying to keep my voice even, but Crookshank ignores me.

“Goddam it,” Ellis grunts, and then takes off after Crookshank, and then I’m alone.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, dusting myself off – or perhaps ‘wiping’ is a better word in this environment. I thought I heard some sort of crunching noise from the camera when I fell but I don’t think I landed on it, and I spend a moment checking to see if anything is broken – I can’t find anything obviously wrong with it so unless it starts corrupting recordings, I’m fine.

Then I remember that I’ve been huddled here like an idiot tapping at my camera with my back to the vent Crookshank came bursting out of, and I whip around, eyes like dinner plates, half-expecting something horrible and nasty to be right behind me, but of course there’s nothing. I glance back at the station and see some of the other members of the team rushing for it – and there’s Elena too, in her wetsuit, padding along with the Sergeant right behind her.

When I turn my attention back to the vent I think I see something move, down there in the dark, but I can’t make it out. I reach up and angle my headlamp a little downwards but I can’t see anything other than pink flesh, scored by veins and tumors and callouses. “Slate?” I call out after a moment’s hesitation, my voice horribly shaky. I let my lip curl at myself and take a step or two inwards, and then it moves again, further down in the dark, where my light peters out.

I’ve got my camera slung low at my waist but I bring it up to my eye, then reach up further and turn my headlamp off. The night-vision mode isn’t very good but it might actually reach a little further than the headlamp does…

“Where’s Roan?” I can hear Elena asking, back in Oyster’s Shame. She sounds a little panicked. “Ellis, where the hell is –“

I open my mouth to call out that I’m right here, but before I can cold terror seizes my lungs and I can’t make them work, I can’t make my mouth form the sentence. On the camera screen, once the wash of the night-vision had finally clicked over and I could make out something down there at the end of the vent, before it curved over to the right. I made out a mass of writhing, squirming ropes or tentacles, but that was all, it was gone far too quickly for it to really fix in my mind. But in one great ropy appendage I thought it held -

And then Elena’s found me and she’s practically hauling me out of the vent by the collar of my suit. I see a flash of her eyes, wide and worried, staring into mine, before she spins me around and shoves me towards the station with enough force that I stagger. “Go inside,” she tells me, voice low and urgent, in a tone that’ll brook no argument. When I look back I see four of them, her and the Sergeant and Fumi and Peter, all with their guns at the ready, vanishing into the vent, the darkness swallowing them up even as the pale, faltering light of their headlamps stab at it.

“Don’t go down there,” I start to say, “there’s a … a thing,” but Elena has already gone and vanished, and with nothing left to do I turn around and walk back to the station.

It doesn’t take them long to get back, and when I see that they’re all still there, all still intact, my heart does a funny little flip in my chest, doubly so when I see Elena. The rest of us have moved into the station’s kitchen and grabbed seats at the big round table there, and I had the presence of mind to take two, resting my legs on one of them so Elena’d have a spot next to me. She practically throws herself down into it, and when I look at her I can see the tiredness and worry practically radiating off of her like cartoon stink lines. She glances over at me and offers a perfunctory smile but I know her heart isn’t in it.

I start to ask her whether they found anything, but the Sergeant comes in and tosses a helmet onto the table. It must be Slate’s, I assume; everybody else has theirs. The faceplate is shattered and there’s a vividly bright daub of blood down the front of it.

“We found this,” the Sergeant says, staring at Crookshank, “at the end of the tunnel. No Slate, no nothing. Just this, and a trail of blood leading into a compress arteriole that Slate would never have been able to fit into intact.”

For the past fifteen minutes Crookshank has done nothing but sit there at the table with his head in his hands. Now he raises his head and looks up at the Sergeant. I’ve never seen his face this pale. “It was the Leechman,” he says. “I saw it.”

Instant uproar. A dozen mouths shouting disagreement, disbelief, profanity. Elena is on her feet next to me, staring at Crookshank. “Bullshit,” I think I hear her say. “You fat fucking –“

I can hear Peter saying loudly from a few seats down that he’s seen one, that he knows he’s seen one, and I can hear Fumi saying equally loudly that the Leechman is just a myth, man, grow up, this is bullshit. Amid the noise I meet the Sergeant’s eyes; I haven’t seen or heard him say a single word since Crookshank spoke, but I can tell from his face that a Leechman, whatever the hell that is, is capital-letter Bad News.

I think of something, something I should have thought of immediately. I reach down, plonk my camera on the table in front of me. “I got it on video,” I say, looking around. Nobody hears, not even Elena next to me.

The Sergeant is looking at the camera, then he looks back at me. He frowns. I lick my lips, repeat myself a little louder. “I got it on video,” I say, then I close my eyes and stand up and yell it. I have to yell three times before everyone quiets down and looks at me. “I got it on video,” I say. “Here, look.”

And then I tab through the camera’s menu, find the last video I took, and then set it to play, as everyone crowds around me, craning their necks to get a good look at the unfortunately tiny screen, I feel for just a moment like I might actually be useful for something down here.

I look up again, look at all the faces peering at the camera, held tight to my chest, and when again I lock gazes with the Sergeant I try not to burst into flames from the sheer and incongruous spark of joy-at-belonging that I feel when he gives me a short, curt nod.

Elena’s the first to break the silence that settled in after the video ended. She flops into her seat, looks around at all of us, ends the slow sweep of the circle with her eyes on me. “Well,” she says. “Looks like we’re all fuckin’ dead.”

And I can feel a sudden consuming coldness someplace in my chest snuff out that little fuzzy spark of bucolic, ya done did good kid paternal acceptance when I realize that she’s completely serious.

Continue with Part 20

Back to Table of Contents

#mystery flesh pit #writing #writeblr #alt lit #spilled ink #thriller #novel #original writing #Michael Crichton #caving #disaster

[therealjordan23]

i know u usually dont write in the b99 fandom, but can u do some charles boyle angst?

Sure anon :) Takes place after S7E3, Pimemento

ooo

"Boyle?" a voice asked behind him.

Charles swiveled around in his chair to find Rosa staring at him, her expression concerned and confused.

"Hey, Diaz," Charles commented, not bothering to give her another glance, keeping his gaze focused on the case sitting on his desk.

Rosa frowned: it wasn't unusual for anyone to call her Diaz, but coming from Charles? It made her feel uncomfortable, so she set a hand on his shoulder. She noticed him tense up from the contact, and she immediately guessed something had happened between him and Jake.

"What are you doing?"

He let out a groan. "A case, what else?"

Now she was sure something had happened between Charles and Jake. She gripped his shoulder tightly, and spun him around so that he was facing her. To her surprise, Charles didn't shy away from her intense scrutiny like he, or anyone, usually would. He glared right back at her, giving her a harsh look, but Rosa didn't flinch: she knew he wasn't going home, he spent his free days at work, and his wife and son were getting worried. It was also pretty visible that he wasn't acting like his usual self: he was growing out a heavy stubble, there were bags underneath his eyes, and he usually smelled of alcohol. Rosa noticed that he never wore his usual plain shirt, khakis, tie, and dress shoes anymore, opting for a simple NYPD hoodie and jeans. While it wasn't a bad outfit, she knew it wasn't approved by Captain Holt, along with the fact that it was out of character for Charles.

"Take your hand off my shoulder," he mumbled, his voice cold.

"No," Rosa said curtly. "I know something's up, and I want to know what it is. You're never like this."

He let out a harsh laugh, standing up, ripping his shoulder away from her tight grip. "I think that's the problem! Maybe I should be like this more often." With that, he headed towards the evidence room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Rosa spent the day watching the surveillance footage from the evidence room: Charles sat down at the spare desk, finishing cases with alarming speed. He would grab another one off the shelf, and would solve it so fast, she was positive that even Jake couldn't keep up.

Knowing she wasn't going to get to Boyle, she decided to go talk to Jake.

"Peralta," Rosa frowned, crossing her arms, looming over him. "What's up with Boyle?"

Jake frowned. "How should I know? I haven't seen him all day."

"He's in the evidence room, because he doesn't want to face any of us," she said plainly, and his eyes widened.

"Damn," he groaned. "I knew he would make it a big deal."

"Make what a big deal?" Amy asked, stepping over to them.

Jake sighed. "Rosa, remember when Amy told you we were going to try for a baby? Well, Charles didn't know, until last week, when Pimento came in with his memory loss. I told Adrian, because I assumed he would just forget what I told him. But… he didn't, and ended up telling Charles."

Rosa glared at him. "Jake—"

"I know it was wrong, but Amy didn't want him to know. Charles was really hurt, and he said he couldn't remember why we were even friends," Jake ran his fingers through his brown locks. "He was also angry that I kept blowing him off."

"But I thought you fixed all this." Amy frowned.

Jake sighed. "We did… I don't know what the problem is now! If anything, he's the one blowing me off!" Jake cried dramatically.

Rosa nodded. "I'll go talk to him."

She walked towards the evidence room, and knocked on the door. "Boyle, open ip. It's me. I need an old case file."

Rosa heard him trudge towards the door, and he slowly unlocked it, not bothering to look at her. He walked back to the spare desk that lied in the evidence room, keeping his eyes on the case. Rosa shut the door, locking it behind her.

"Alright. We need to talk."

Charles stared at her in disbelief. "You lied to me just to get in here?"

Rosa rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Tell me what's wrong, Charles. This isn't you."

He smirked. "Well, maybe I'm sick of being myself. Maybe… maybe if I wasn't myself, Amy would have trusted me with the news of her and Jake trying for a baby. Face it, Diaz, I'm just not one of the gang. I'm not you, or Holt, or Amy, or Terry, or Gina! I'm just… on the sidelines, connected to Jake: somebody who doesn't even want to be connected to me." Charles shut the last case he was working on, and let out a small groan.

Before Rosa could reply to the shocking words he had just said, he added, "Can you tell Holt that I'm going to go home? Niko will still be at school, and Genevieve won't be home for another 2 hours. Maybe I can get a quick shower in."

Rosa felt her heart shatter at the sight of the man who knew her best falling apart—she wanted to help, but how could she? These were Boyle's own feelings of not feeling adequate or as "in" as the rest of the group. He felt like a black sheep, and that was understandable. How was she supposed to help? What was she supposed to say? It was usually Charles reassuring the group, Charles holding them together, Charles giving them advice: they had been so busy with their own problems, that they were completely oblivious to Boyle's misery.

They were selfish.

Boyle grabbed his things, and before he could exit, he turned to her. "You know? After my divorce, there were only a few things keeping me from falling apart: my parents, my dogs, and… and this precinct, including the people in it. I care about everyone here more than myself… it just hurts to know that they don't feel the same way."

With that, he left her alone inside the evidence room. She eyed the desk where he had been working, and sat down at the vacant chair.

ooo

There was a gentle tap on her shoulder, followed by another persistent tap.

"Rosa?"

Rosa blinked. Where was she?

"Amy? God… where am I?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"The evidence room. You've been in here for almost 2 hours." Amy frowned.

Rosa stretched. "I guess I was just… thinking."

Amy leaned on the desk. "About?"

"Boyle,"  Rosa answered. "And how awful we are to him."

Amy snorted, and opened her mouth to protest. "Rosa—"

"Amy!" Rosa snapped. "He keeps this precinct glued together! He makes sure we're okay, he supports Jake to no end. In fact, his and Jake's friendship is one sided! Have you ever seen Jake supporting Charles, to the extent that Charles supports him?!" she began ranting.

Amy was taken aback. "Rosa, you need to calm down—"

"No!" Rosa snapped. "He took 2 bullets for me! We spent 2 years calling him Mr. Grapes, which I know was a joke, but it must have been hurting him! He… he loves us, but we haven't been great about showing him that we love him back. That's why he's been down! That's why he's been avoiding us, his family, and it's also why he's been staying here, solving more cases than you and Jake solved during your little bet!"

Amy scoffed. "That's impossible… Charles isn't even that smart, he can't—'"

Rosa shoved one of his finished case files into her hands, and she opened it, studying the contents. Amy's eyes widened: his notes were clean and detailed, his writeup went above Holt's expectations…

"He said he was too afraid to 'take anyone's thunder'." Amy managed weakly, the truth of Rosa's words sinking into her.

"Because he puts other people's needs in front of his own," Rosa said quietly and bitterly. "Remember that airplane ride back to Brooklyn? After you gained intel on Figgis? Who was reassuring you?"

"Boyle was."

"Who convinced Jake to carry on with your relationship?" Rosa prompted.

"Boyle did."

Rosa seethed. "Who set up your goddamn wedding?!"

Amy grew annoyed. "Boyle did!"

Rosa chuckled. "And you couldn't trust him with the fact that you and Jake were trying for a baby."

Amy felt tears prick her eyes. "I didn't know it would hurt him that bad!"

"Because we don't care about his emotions!" Rosa cried. "He cares about us, but we don't care about him… what kind of friends are we?"

With that, Rosa left Amy inside the evidence room. She grabbed her motorcycle helmet: if Amy was right about the fact that she had fallen asleep for 2 hours, Boyle should have just been leaving his house, especially if he didn't want to be discovered by his wife and son.

"Detective Diaz!" Holt called, but Rosa ignored him. She ran towards the stairwell, dashing for her motorcycle. She needed to see him. She needed to talk to him.

Amy ran out of the evidence room. "Where did she go?"

Jake frowned. "She left, and took her motorcycle helmet and left. What's wrong?"

Amy grabbed her keys. "I just watched the surveillance footage, before Boyle left the building. He looked really hurt. I think he's in trouble." Before Jake could ask anymore questions, Amy left the precinct, and Jake was quick to follow.

ooo

Rosa pulled up to the Boyle household, inspecting the building: his car was still out, so he had to be here.

"Charles!" Rosa snapped, pounding the door.

When there was no answer, she felt a sinking feeling in her gut, and she didn't hesitate to grab her gun. She found herself shooting the doorknob, and kicking the door down.

She heard soft sobs coming from Nikolaj's bedroom, so she quietly crept her way towards it.

"I'm so sorry, buddy," Charles whimpered, clutching his son's shirt. "I thought I'd be strong enough for this, but I… I can't do this." he sniffled.

Her eyes widened when she spotted a knife near him. When he reached for it, she didn't hesitate to kick the door open. She tackled him, and punched him across the jaw—he didn't get angry like she expected, in fact, he didn't respond at all. He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing his tears to flow freely, and Rosa pulled him into a hug: they stayed like that, with her holding him, running her hands through his hair. He buried his face into her chest, and she felt her jacket become wet with his tears, but she didn't care.

That's how Jake and Amy found them: with Charles clutching onto Rosa for dear life, a knife just a few feet away from them. Jake slowly walked inside the bedroom, dropped onto his knees, and wrapped both Rosa and Charles in a hug, gently resting his chin on top of Boyle's head. Amy was quick to join, wrapping her arms around Boyle's waist, pulling him in close.

No context was needed. 

ooo

I love Charles and Rosa’s friendship.

I know I made Jake and Amy seem like antagonists here, but the sad part is, it isn’t even that far off from their usual behaviour towards Charles. It doesn’t sit right with me when he’s treated like shit, so... guess I just made my own form of justice for him. 

#brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine-nine #b99 #charles boyle #jake peralta #rosa diaz #amy santiago #pimemento #ask #fic #angst

[zwiezraczek]

Your writing is literally the best! I love it so so much! And I also need a second part of Liar! Maybe they taking the info they need and send Y/N back to her father. They break in and the father realizes its Billy, and knowing the bond between Y/N and him from the past; takes her as hostage to get the ghosts to leave! Honestly I didn't even had the idea when I began writing the ask. I knew I wanted to use 16 and now I got the whole plot 😂 As usual take your time 🐼

Believer [Blurb]

Part 1: Liar - Part 2 - Part 3: Player

~~~

He could talk about this for hours, and you could listen to him for hours. To Billy, your not-so-dead bestfriend. The one you missed, his voice, his eyes, his soft touch. Your bestfriend. Your bestfriend telling you again how he fell on that day. You couldn’t recall for how long you were sitting there, together, talking.

“So basically,” he continued, as you were still sitting in a chair, handcuffed by the French woman who finally brought you the glass of water you asked for about thirty minutes ago, “I have the necklace between my teeth, right? And then, that bitch grabs the necklace and I fall for like… An hour?”

“Don’t push the fucking drama too far,” you remarked, and grabbed the glass of water to drink a sip of it.

“It felt like hours,” Billy protested, looking at you.

“He fell for about two minutes,” the forty year old man interrupted their discussion. They were sitting and talking like this for hours, and everything began to piss One off. He needed information, no someone who would chit-chat with the hostage. Not at all. But you promised to tell them what they needed to know. “So now, sweet lady, like some kind of cheese”, he quoted as Billy and you looked completely lost before he just continued, “you need to fulfill your duty, a word is a word.”

“What do you need to know,” you asked him, furor in the eye. He reminded you everything: the kidnapping, the drugs, the light hitting your eyes, the anger. Everything. And now, now you found some kind of peace, with only handcuffs around your hands, he began to ask questions. He began to claim his part of the deal, and you had to yield to it.

“Where your precious father keeps his darkest secrets,” he asked, with a little smirk on his face.

“Fuck you,” you replied, before Billy put a hand on your forearm, looking calmly at you. You could only sigh. “His computer, in his office on the third floor.”

“Good girl. It was nice dealing with you.”

“If I could, I would rip your fucking head off. You hear me, wanker,” you almost spat on the floor while saying this, anger filling your veins and mind. He called you a ‘good girl’, whatwere you? A fucking dog?

“Yes I do hear you,” the man replied before looking at Billy, “well, now Four take care of the lady, her father already knows that she was kidnapped and Three is telling him we want money.”

“You’re a sick fuck,” you muttered under your breath.

“It’s like hearing you speaking,” the man remarked as he addressed Billy, “unbelievable!”

“We were bestfriends,'” you protested.

“Past tense, exactly. Now you play in different teams. So now, excuse us, when we’ll try to get the info about the children traffic guy that your lovely fa…”

“The what,” you interrupted him, all serious now.

“So you don’t know? Your father supports some guys that are doing children traffic. Not a big deal for a bad guy stealing, right?”

“One, you’re going a little bit too far on this one,” Billy said, his hand holding your now as you began to tighten your grip. You had tears in your eyes. Your own father… You knew what he did, you knew what you had to do, and how many people you had killed but this… Disgusting.

“I needed to know,” you replied. “I fucking needed to know about my father doing this sick shit. You do need more information,” you asked, looking at the man called One. You couldn’t let your father do that, killing people was one thing, involving children into it was another.

“I like her,” the man said, pointing at you before turning back in order to leave the room. “I’ll be back if I need more info, y/n.”

~~~

The Ghosts couldn’t trust you. Two looked at you with a deathly glare as you showed her the passwords they would need to get into the security system. You could feel how tense she was, as she typed the letters on the keyboard, ready to put a knife under your throat and to kill you on the spot. A nice change, really. She wasn’t the one to be suspicious - but nobody dared to be as aggressive as she was towards you – the whole group was, and you could feel it through the glances they gave you as you walked through the room, still under someone’s surveillance. But especially not Billy’s. You were the enemy, friends with one of them, bestfriends with one of them and all of them knew that ties were the only thing that could make somebody betray their family, their friends, anyone. So you were dangerous. Even more dangerous than you were when you wanted to spit on their faces while they held you like an hostage, after drugging you and putting into a trunk.

But Billy was sweet with you during the whole stay – two days. He asked One if you could sleep in one of the trailers, but he refused. Total disagreement, no, no, no, no, stick the status quo. So you spent your night on the couch, under a blanket Billy brought you from his trailer. And in the morning, you had some tea by your side with a few brownies. He remembered. He really did. And you smiled, not thinking about this awful situation youwere in.

And finally, they dropped you at your house. Three and Billy did, during an exchange, wearing masks and you were blindfolded during the whole car ride. Billy’s hand was always in yours, as you felt tense, you had to go back home, knowing the horrible things your father was doing behind your back. You trusted him, you killed for him, you worked for him: he was your family. He had been your family. Now, you had no family. Just a friend. Your bestfriend. Three suddenly took you out from the car, grabbing you by your shoulder and making you stand up in the middle of nowhere. The same stupid underground smell. A fucking perfect place for this kind of exchange, you were curious to know whose idea it was. Probably your father’s. Somebody tossed a bag to somebody’s feet on your side, before you were pushed on the ground, falling on your knees. Bleeding probably, again. It was Billy who pushed you, you knew, you felt the hesitation in his moment, you felt his touch and the way he pushed you… You would bleed, but not too much.

Somebody began to take the blindfold off, the lights. Who the hell agreed to put such harsh light in an abandoned parking lot? And you saw his face: your father’s face. He came – he never did – for the exchange. He cared, he genuinely did. His hand on your cheek, before holding your whole face and kissing gently your forehead. How disgusted you felt.

~~~

You waited, for days, knowing that Billy would eventually break into your house. He was the only one able to do this, he was the only one knowing the place by heart. And you wanted to see him again. Ever since you came back, you couldn’t focus on anything anymore. You couldn’t feel the happiness of being feared anymore, of being the most powerful person in the room and even parties became dull. All because of him, of Billy. Because you knew he was alive, but you couldn’t see him. The two days you spent with him recalled you how much you loved him, as your soulmate, as your everything and how much it hurt you when he died. And how much it hurt now, when you knew he was alive but far from you.

And one night, as you looked through the security devices yourself, you saw something abnormal. Billy. You had to take your father as far from his office as possible, so you ran upstairs, looking for your father. And you found him, not so far from his office. And you began to small talk him, about the kidnapping, about your feelings, and how much it affected you to be treated this way by people, without even knowing their faces. You pulled out the sensible card, hoping it would give Billy as much time as he needed. But then, something fell in his office. And you couldn’t stop him from going inside. You desperately tried, but he opened the door.

And then, he saw Billy, right in front of his own computer, trying to plug the cable into the laptop he brought. He was caught off guard, and he couldn’t do anything, not even jumping out the window. He was too close to let it go. Immediately, your father grabbed you by the waist, drawing his gun towards your head. Your heart was about to explode as you felt the weapon against your temple. You breathed heavily, closing your eyes, not looking at Billy, hoping it would end soon.

“What a pleasure to see you again Billy! I knew you weren’t dead,” he said, and you could hear the warm tone of his voice quickly shifting to a colder one when Billy began to move. “Youmove, she dies.”

“You sick fuck… She’s your daughter,” he screamed, eyes burning with rage.

“A traitor so to speak, am I right, lovely y/n,” your father asked, moving the gun on the side of your face as you nodded, calmly. This threw you off your balance, you couldn’t move anymore. Your father was about to kill you, coldheartedly. “A mole in my own fucking house, my own daughter…!”

“I hate children abuse,” you managed to whisper, feeling a tear running down your cheek. All your boldness was gone, facing death, a death probably given by your father, was scarier than you imagined.

“I try my best to protect these children, y/n, I really do…”

“Probably not enough,” escaped from your lips. The trigger was about to be pulled, you knew it.

“Seven, don’t you shoot,” Billy whispered as your father looked at him.

“And he’s not alone, great,” your father stated. “Close the curtains, and unplug your cables from my computer, you bastard.” And so did Billy, slowly moving as men began to gather behind you and your father. The mission failed. Everything failed. You bit your lips. How could you fail…?

“Don’t you do that,” Seven’s voice blasted in Four’s ear as he began to close the only curtain that was open. “You’ll die!”

“I already died once without saying goodbye, not doing it twice,” he whispered into the device, quickly closing the curtain before Seven could shoot. He unplugged his laptop and stood behind the desk. “What now?”

“You’ll watch her suffer,” your father said, punching you in the stomach as you curled up in pain on the floor. You began to cough, uncontrollably. It.. Did hurt. “Until you tell me everything about your little group, deal? Billy?”

“Deal,” Billy replied, unplugging his microphone now as he heard Seven telling him to not do so. “What do you want to know?”

#you know when youu say this to me i'm always tearing up a bit 💕💕💕 #thank you 🐼 it's so lovely i'm all 😭💕 #i hope you like this part as much as the first one! 💕 #ben hardy #four x reader #four!ben #four/billy #four ben hardy #ben hardy four #6 underground ben hardy #6 underground #six underground ben hardy #six underground #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy blurbs #blurb

[ablogcalledrevenge]

Never Really Over

(a Gabriel O’Malley x Reader Insert Multichapter Fic, Rated M)

Chapter 3

The phone by your bed rings at 2:47 in the morning and you jolt awake out of a pleasant, if bizarre dream with your heart hammering inside your chest. Rolling over, you grab the receiver and focus on breathing.

“Hello, what?” You mumble, your cat’s eyes glowing yellow in the darkness from the foot of your bed. Getting a call this late at night, or perhaps this early in the morning, was never a good thing.

“Hey, I need your car. Can I borrow it?” The other voice says and there’s a pause where you try to figure out what the fuck is going on. 

“My car? Why do you need my- who is this? Gabe? No, you can not have my fucking car! It is 3 in the morning and I have work tomorrow. Go away!” You yell into the receiver. But before you can hang up the phone, he sighs.

“C’mon baby please. I’m doing this job and I gotta get this body outta the way. Please (Y/N), I’ll pay for the gas and everything.” He pleads into the phone. You rub at your temple and frown. 

“You are not putting a fucking body in my brand new Cadillac! Go ask Tony or David or somebody. This is your job, not mine. Zayde wouldn’t want me to get involved anyway.” You shoot back, wondering why you haven’t hung up on him.

“Tony’s busy and David’s car is in the shop. Besides, don’t you think I know that! I tried a bunch of other people before I called you. I promise I won’t get your car dirty, I won’t ask you to do anything but drive. C’mon baby I need your help please.” His voice has taken on a peculiar quality and your face floods with heat when you finally place it. He’s using his sex voice! He’s using his fucking sex voice to make you leave your house at 3 in the morning to drive him somewhere with a dead body. It was an underhanded move, he knew what that deep whisper did to you, and you clench your thighs together.

“Fine, fine! I’ll help you. But you can’t tell anyone and if you get so much as a scuff mark on my Cadillac, you’ll be joining that body.” You decide and Gabe cheers into the phone. He gives you the address and you figure you’ll be there in 15 minutes, although if you hit traffic you wouldn’t be surprised. But before you finally say goodbye, you lower your pitch as well to mimic his.

“Oh and Gabe? I’m not your baby.” The half groan, half laugh he responds with is worth the trouble.

The ride to the house where Gabe had prepared the body is pretty short, so you don’t feel too guilty about spending a good few minutes changing into a cute nightgown and brushing your hair. Gabe knows what you look like, but a little mascara never hurt anyone. Plus if you got arrested at least you’d look pretty for your mugshot.

You quietly pull up in your ‘76 Coupe DeVille, the street lamps bouncing off the red paint. Gabriel is waiting outside with a duffel, hiding in a shadow before hauling the large garbage bag over to your trunk. You join him at the rear of your car, helping him lift up the body and place it on the tarp inside. He slams the trunk closed and turns to you, long and lean.

“If that bag leaks, I’ll kill you.” You repeat, pointing your finger at him. He leans forward and playfully bites it. Scowling, you pull away and get back in the driver’s seat, glancing around the quiet neighborhood. 

“So where are we going? The river again?” You ask, adjusting your mirrors before getting on the road. Gabriel’s eyes travel up your bare leg to the hem of your nightgown but you ignore the leer.

“Santa Monica.” He finally says when you hit a red light. You’re glad the car has stopped, because you turn to gape at him.

“Santa Monica? Santa Monica! Are you out of your mind? That’s like a 45 minute drive from here! I’m not taking you to fucking Santa Monica. What’s wrong with the river?” You ask incredulously, getting on the highway regardless. He smirks but wisely doesn’t comment.

“The tide’s going out tonight, it’s perfect to dump the body. It’ll be out in the middle of the Pacific by the time anyone knows he’s gone. Besides, last time I used the river, I got sick.” He points out, turning on the radio. Dolly Parton sings about someone smiling that smile and there go all her defenses. You give the radio a glare because that’s a low blow.

“Yeah, I remember.” You murmur absently, merging into another lane. You remember everything and at least Gabriel has the kindness to look abashed. You ride in silence for the rest of the journey.

You make good time to the pier, everything dark and quiet above you as you walk under the wooden beams. The Ferris Wheel sits unmoving, all the bright lights are off and the only sounds around you are the waves lapping against the dirty sand. You take a deep breath in, always having loved the scent of the beach. Gabriel grabs the body from the trunk and you take some plastic bags out as well.

“Here, put these around your shoes so they don’t get wet. You’re not getting back into my car smelling all briney.” You explain, watching him drag the garbage bag down under the pier. 

“It’s fine, I brought a change of clothes. I’m gonna have to go in deep to make sure it doesn’t get stuck on the sand when the tide goes out. But hold this for me, will you?” He replies, whipping off his t-shirt and throwing it to you. Catching it with a smile, you sit on the hood of your car and watch Gabe disappear into the darkness.

You know that the body has been drained and chopped up to make it smaller, that there are weights in the bag to keep it underwater. By midmorning, that body will be in the middle of the ocean, halfway down among the fish. You didn’t know who the stiff was, but if Gabe had to deal with him, he probably deserved it.

Gabriel returns 10 minutes later, soaking wet and beautiful. The moonlight shines on his pale skin and the small ridges of muscle and bone are mesmerizing. He’s never been a wide sort of guy but there’s something so attractive about his body, in the subtleness of strength and the delicacy of his gait. He looks fucking good and you cross your arms for something to do. 

Grabbing his duffel from the backseat, he takes out a towel and wipes himself down. His gold cross shimmers in the early morning light and the car jostles as he joins you on the hood. The yellow light of dawn usually turns people’s faces sallow but Gabriel glows in his success. You turn your head and watch the waves instead. You should probably leave now before the surfers and dog walkers head over. You have to be at the bank in the morning but you’re tempted to call out. You haven’t done that in a long time and considering your uncle was the bank manager, it would probably be okay.

“All done. Give me a second and I’ll change my pants. Then we can go.” He says quietly, shaking out any remaining sand from the towel. He scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Thanks for helping me with this. You didn’t have to and I appreciate it. Thanks (Y/N).” Gabe adds, letting his hand rest next to yours, pinky fingers touching. You flush at the thanks and nod, content to watch the sunrise with someone you know.

Ten minutes later you’re fucking in the back seat of your Cadillac and you’d be pissed if you weren’t so satisfied. You almost kick a hole through the car roof, you forgot how good it could be. 

Once your breathing regulates and Gabe lights up a cigarette for each of you, do you actually say something other than expletives and his name.

“What was Claire like?” You ask, immediately hating yourself for bringing it up. Gabe was probably still mourning her and you didn’t want to know. Except you really did.

Taking a long drag of his cigarette, he looks over at you with a sad smile before turning his eyes back to the middle distance. You focus on the condensation left on the windows.

“She was great, she really was. She was tough; you know she was married to that guy for fucking years letting him hit her and curse her out. Never complained, never said a word against him. She stuck it out, she was resilient.” Gabe says and you can’t help but feel a little bad. No one deserved to be in an abusive marriage. In that way, you did feel for her.

“She was nice too, if you had a problem, she’d help you; no questions asked. She was one of those people that helped; a doer. That’s the resilience. She did what she had to do to stay alive. She was probably too nice for the shit she got mixed up in, but she wanted to be able to take care of herself. I could respect that.” He’s lost to his memories now and you bite your lip to keep from crying at your folly. You shouldn’t have asked.

“You know I showed her how to handle the bodies? She didn’t seem squeamish about any of that stuff, she wanted to learn everything about the business. It wasn’t darkness, not like you have, but it was a pragmatism. If she was going to be in charge, she didn’t want to be taken advantage of again.” The mention of you causes an intake of breath that he either doesn’t hear or pretends he doesn’t. You’re not sure if it’s a compliment or not. You’re also aware of the similarities between you and Claire and it makes you uncomfortable. At least if she had been your total opposite you could make peace with the fact that you would never be like her. But you two were so alike, which made your failure to measure up even more obvious.

“The sex wasn’t bad either”, he adds like one more nail in the coffin, “Yeah, she was really great.” And you’re underground with her, your bodies rotting with the worms. Gabriel O’Malley has killed you both. It’s amazing how he does it so effortlessly. Your thoughts drift to the body sinking down beneath the floam; how peaceful it must be to just lie back and let the sea take you.

You don’t cry, you just smoke your cigarette down to the filter and toss it out the window. He does the same. The sun rises higher in the sky and paints his skin golden.

“I’m sorry Gabe, I really am. I know you loved her, loved her a lot.” You finally choke out. You’re ready to go home now.

“I’m not finished (Y/N).” Gabe says, turning in the backseat to face you. He takes your hands and the tears start falling.

“Please I don’t want to hear anymore, I’m sorry I asked, I’m sorry I brought it up. You love her and you never loved me and it’s obvious now and I feel like an idiot and I just want to go home. I want you to leave me alone. Please leave me alone.” You cry, pulling your hands away but he keeps grabbing them and pulling them back. What the fuck does he want with you?

“I will if you let me explain something, something important!” He demands, his hands resting on your upper arms and shaking you once. You stop outright crying and nod.

“Claire was all those things. She was tough and hardworking and smart and so kind. But she was also a person with good and bad parts. Stuff that I needed to discover and accept about her. The thing is, I wasn’t treating her like a person, I was treating her like an ideal. I was comparing her, the real her, against the image I had created in my head. An image no real person could ever compete with. To be perfectly fucking frank, Claire was really boring.” Gabe confesses, looking tired. Your brain short circuits and you blink several times.

“Listen, I could’ve dated her and married her and had kids with her and I probably would’ve had a nice life. She would’ve been a great mom and a great wife and we would’ve been happy in the grand scheme of things. But she was just… outside of the business, we had nothing in common! We didn’t like the same music or movies, we didn’t like doing the same thing, we had nothing to talk about. The sex was good because that’s all we were doing, it passed the time. Although let me tell you, I forgot how repressed these Catholic girls are sometimes. It was a trial and a half to get her to let me fuck her from behind. It gutted me when she died, partially because it was my fault. Cathy wanted me to spare this kid, but he wasn’t a kid. He came back with a buddy and Claire got one but she didn’t know enough about this world to be prepared for the second guy. I should’ve told her, I should’ve protected her, but I didn’t. Turns out I was wrong about her, wrong about a lot of things. I realized while I was out there that the Claire I thought I wanted didn’t exist, she never existed, and it was wrong of me to compare her to the Claire I had, and to you. So yeah, I cared about her. I cared so much about her, I wanted her to be happy. But I didn’t love her, I couldn’t love her. Not the way she deserved, not in any real way.” 

There is silence in the car again, the sound of gulls starting to rise with the sun. Your tears have stopped and your breathing has too. You look at him, really look at him, and it’s like a bad picture trying to come through. His edges have gone blurry and the sound of your accelerating heartbeat is becoming the only thing you can hear. Your hands are shaking but you don’t know whether it’s from the comedown or your anger or something else entirely.

“Do you mean to tell me that this whole time I have been comparing myself to a person who does not exist? That I have been letting you compare me to a woman who is so perfect, she couldn’t even measure up to herself? You left me for something that was never going to work out? Is that what you’re telling me?” You confirm, your voice tight and deliberately slow. Gabe nods and swallows.

“Let’s get into the front seat and go home, huh?” You say after you watch him squirm for a moment. You pull your underwear back on and climb over the front seat while Gabe gets out and walks around to the passenger side door. You think very briefly about killing him, there’s a gun in your purse, but you decide against it. He was working for the Godfather now and you didn’t want to take away one of his guys.

Gabe pulls on the handle of the passenger side door but it doesn’t budge. You try and tame your hair in the rearview mirror, ignoring the sound of the door handle being pulled. 

“Unlock the door, let me in.” He says, the sun almost completely out on the beach. You give him a once over and start the car.

“Find your own way home asshole.” You say, before pulling out of the spot with a squeal and driving off. The last thing you do as you leave him in Santa Monica is snake your hand out through the open window, middle finger tall and straight.

Chapter Four Coming Soon....

Tagging: @babbushka​, @theold-ultraviolence​, @stylelovechild​, @niniita-ah

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

#gabriel o'malley x reader #never really over #reader insert fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #the kitchen #general hux x reader #my writing #fanfiction #gabriel o'malley

[shibyn]

are you blushing or is that sunburn

haikyuu!! | bokuto/kuroo | 23k | ao3

"Wuh?" Bokuto only looks slightly perplexed, munching down on his popsicle in thought. "If we can't do it this week, we can just do it next, right?" He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the whole universe, the only possible answer. A bead of melted popsicle runs down the wooden stick, spilling across Bokuto's fingers. He awkwardly gurgles, unmelted ice still in his mouth, and he tries his best to lick the trail and proceeds to knock himself in the forehead with the ice pop.

It's. Endearing, maybe, if not completely embarrassing to watch.

Ahh, Kuroo thinks and averts his eyes. His neck is warm under the sun.

It's the hottest day of the year.

And so was the day before, and the day before that.

(A summer romance where things get a little too hot and spicy— literally. Tokyo’s melting.)

"—temperatures are soaring, paired up with cloudless skies. Take care these next couple of days, and stay hydrated! A cold front is on the way, so sweat it out, there's relief coming soon!—" Blearily, Kuroo wipes the sweat collecting beneath his eyes, glancing away from the TV that's been playing as white noise as he waits. It's early morning, windows wide open to the city waking. Outside the air is muggy and hot and he would love nothing more than to close the windows and crank up the air conditioning, but he's gotta be mindful of the AC or the bill will skyrocket. First day of summer break and it's already abysmally hot, he laments, sinking further into the couch. The pleather of the couch is grossly sticky whenever it peels from his bare shoulders. It's gonna be one helluva long day. "Tetsurou!!" The front door swings open without warning, slamming against the wall and bouncing back, striking the intruder. Not even deterred aside from a sharp yowch, and only momentarily pausing to kick off his shoes, Bokuto comes romping in through the entryway. Every bit of his stride looks like he can just barely contain the energy he has. He almost strides right past the living room, double taking when he notices Kuroo. "Wha— Tetsu, are you not ready!" Rising from his sprawl on the couch, Kuroo says, "I am ready, you airhead, you just took your time getting here. It's, what—" a quick glance to the clock— "—ten thirty? You're late, buddy." "By just fifteen minutes!" Bokuto whines, shoulders slumping, "I forgot the tickets the first time I left my house so I had to run back to get them!!" "You—" but of course. What else was he expecting? He did make their meet time thirty minutes earlier than necessary— just in case Bokuto forgot something. And another thing. And then something else. "How far out were you when you turned around?" "Halfway through the station!" he announces, bouncing on his toes, awfully chipper for how sweaty he is, "I think that was the fastest I've ever sprinted home." He's got his puppy-dog grin, but he is breathing a little heavier, his shirt damp in dots along his chest. "You didn't have to," Kuroo says, grimacing. Maybe he should've said that they had plenty of time— even if they ended up being late, so what? He literally incorporated the wiggle room for a reason. Coulda saved him the trouble. "I coulda paid for us up front." Aghast, Bokuto digs at his pocket and nearly punches Kuroo in the nose he presents his hand so fast. Clutched in his hand are two brightly colored tickets, a holographic sheen to them with the shifting light. The smallest sliver of a tanuki's face peeks out from where it's covered by his thumb. "Never! I've been holding onto these babies for so long, it'd be horrible if I let them go to waste!!" Kuroo snorts, smacking his hand away. "For months, man. You won them at a raffle at what? The club fair this year? They're about to expire." "Well!" Bokuto retracts his hand, haphazardly shoving the tickets into his pocket. Kuroo tries very hard not the wince when he sees them fold wrong when they go in. "I wanted to wait for the perfect time! All the rides are open now, and it's summer break! Ideal time!" "It's gonna be packed as hell." "Yeah? It's all the more people to see how terrified you'll be on the Exterminator." Bokuto grins. There's a challenge in his voice. Of course. Wouldn't be Bokuto if there wasn't a challenge. Kuroo scoffs. Wouldn't be him if he didn't step up to the challenge. Or at least egg him on. "You wish. You'll be the one holding on to me, scared outta your mind." "Whoever closes their eyes first on a ride loses!" In either to set the deal or to pull him to his feet, Bokuto extends his hand to him. Clicking off the weather channel, Kuroo, knowing his grin is taking up most of his face, takes Bokuto's hand and pulls himself to his feet. His palms are sweaty but his grip is still firm, stabilizing. "Lets get going, then." — Both of them lose. Neither of them really knows who lost first, per se. The Exterminator, the tallest ride that the park has to offer, towers near the entrance which, of course, they beelined to once they stepped in. On the first unsuspected drop, they had grabbed ahold of each other, screaming, eyes screwed shut. Their eyes stayed shut the remainder of the ride, the force of the wind too strong for them to even pry them. The ride was long over by the time they even thought about it. (Though— Now that Kuroo thinks about it, they never really agreed to what would happen if they lost.) Since they've both technically failed already, they do not hold back. On the ride that shoots the cart backwards, they're holding onto each other for dear life, hollering. On the tower drop they're grasping each others arms, screeching and laughing, dropping, then again and again. Every time they get off a ride Kuroo's bangs have been blasted back from his forehead and Bokuto's hair is slowly and eventually coming loose of its gel. Its almost ritual now to laugh about it unnecessarily hard for five minutes, pointing at Kuroo's cowlicks and Bokuto's willowy hair. Everyone else in the park probably hates them, but who gives a shit. They're having the time of their lives. Though it takes more than half the day, they dwindle through the lengthy list of rollercoasters at the park: Mt. Everest, American Eagle, Storm Runner, Steel Dragon, Fury, the Manta Ray... They even go through the crummy water-log-ride that's more of a musical show than a ride, lined with animatronic tanukis and flowers and rainbows and shit. It's the best ride yet. Even though they don't know the words, they sing along the whole time. The day's mostly gone by the time they slump down on a bench, one that happens to have the tracks of a ride twisting overhead, rumbling with the oncoming cart of screeching passengers. Kuroo's slouched across the entire length of the bench, back against Bokuto's shoulder, absently sipping at the icee in his hand that'll probably dissolve his teeth in due time. Bokuto, on the other hand, is scratching off furiously on a flimsy map splayed across his knees. "I think that's all of them!" Bokuto beams, chewing on his straw. He draws two thick lines in a green sharpie marker over Tanuki Timbers Forge Ride, gleefully humming its little jingle. Kuroo turns his head to peer at the map. There's something very satisfying about seeing every ride crossed out, conquered by the two of them— there quite literally isn't a place on the map they haven't crossed out. "Well, except there's still the restaurants we could go to," Bokuto continues, pointing with the capped end of the sharpie to Tanuki Tavern, a medieval-themed food stop, and Derby Hall, where there's apparently incredible chicken wings. "I mean, the only thing that's worth getting is this hell drink," Kuroo says, lifting his icee as indication. Truly, there isn't really anything special about the icee— aside from being so obscenely sugar boosted, its gotta be against FDA— but the cup that it comes in is a tanuki head. He's getting sick of tanukis at this point having seen them all damn day, but it's pretty funny since he got the cherry icee flavor and it looks like he's slurping up tanuki brains. (It's honestly lost all humor value now that he literally feels his teeth fading away in his gums. A funny cup in exchange for his teeth...) Bokuto shrugs, folding up the map. His icee is practically gone already even though Kuroo didn't see him drink from it. What the fuck. His hands are too steady, too. Did he actually drink it...? "I don't think either my wallet or yours would appreciate it if we went anywhere else, anyways!" "Then all we would have left is the gift shop. Buuut..." Clicking his tongue in mock annoyance, Kuroo pulls the bill of Bokuto's new hat down until it covers his eyes. Bokuto squawks, swinging at him. "We've already been in the gift shop since somebody haaad to cover up his hair..." "I couldn't just let the world see my hair when it's down! They're not ready for that," he whines, pulling the bill up. Wisps of his hair peak out from the back. Kuroo successfully suppresses the need to tuck them underneath the hat. I wasn't ready, either, Kuroo thinks airily, then feels very stupid. The cheeky little winking tanuki embroidered on the hat seems to be smirking at him. Fucker. "The gift shop's the last place you're meant to go at a theme park," Kuroo continues, pointedly looking away from that stupid tanuki. "But since we've already been, we can just go and leave." "Wait!" Perking up, Bokuto pops the lid off his icee and downs the rest in one go. Kuroo feels his insides shrivel just from watching. Bokuto drags a hand across his mouth, grinning, "There's actually one more thing! We passed it on the way to the Exterminator so we didn't get to appreciate it in its full glory! It's right by the entrance, too, so it's perfect! C'mon!" And then they finally reach it— the Holy Grail. Unreasonably tall, stationed in its own little pond, ridiculously cheesy; the statue of the park's mascot. Tammy Tanuki. It's meant to be grand, he's sure, but— but he just can't take it seriously now that he's not ten years old. A big ole bobble-headed cartoon tanuki in some mock power-ranger outfit, waving like its calling kids into the park, a cheeky 'follow me!'. The jets of water arcing around the metal structure have apparently been misaligned over the years, because now a stream hits the Tanuki straight into its open waving palm. There's silence for a note as the two of them revere before it. Kuroo waits expectantly. "I'm gonna get a coin on its head," Bokuto says abruptly, a fire igniting in his eyes. Christ, he's got his volleyball face on. "I'm gonna get it on its nose," he changes, striding to the railing with way too much determination, leaving Kuroo to try not to fall over wheezing. It takes a whole moment for him to gather himself to be able to trail after Bokuto. To rest his elbows on the rails He has to nearly bend in half, but he does so anyway, eyes creased in residual laughter, watching Bokuto dig in his pockets for coins. "Why the nose? You're gonna waste all of your money trying to make it," he says, because while he fuckin' loves the enthusiasm, he's gotta make sure Bokuto doesn't end up completely broke. "It's special!" Bokuto says, scandalized. He digs in every single one of his pockets, back, front, shirt, jacket. Pats himself loudly on the ass, as if that'll help him find coins. "Everyone just tosses it into the water! Wouldn't it, like, up how many years of luck I get if I get it in a cool place?" Kuroo snorts. "Or it might make Tammy Tanuki extra pissed at you. Isn't it throwing the coin into the water what makes your wish come true, or whatever it is? Landing it in some sick place on Tammy wouldn't count." "It would so count! Tammy would appreciate my skills." With a bright 'aha!', Bokuto pulls coins from the funky little coin pocket in the front of his pants. He unfurls his palm, and in it are nine measly coins. On closer inspection, Kuroo chokes on his laughter. They're not even yen. They're arcade coins. Bokuto looks a little heart broken, lips wobbly. "I was gonna use these the next time I went..." he mourns. "How long have they been in that pocket?" Kuroo asks, his voice hitching too high. Flushing in something close to embarrassment, Bokuto quickly counts and recounts. "That doesn't matter! What matters is that I'm gonna fuckin' land these trick shots!" He holds them out to Kuroo, who easily lends his palm for the coins to be dumped onto. He tosses one of the coins into the air a couple of times like he's getting a feel for the weight. Kuroo rests his chin in the palm of his unoccupied hand. "Ya sure you even want to do this, Bo? What if Tammy thinks you're disrespecting 'em by throwing some crummy aluminum coin at it? Not even in the water, too," he says languidly. Now that there's no real threat of Bokuto going to go broke money wise, there's no real need to dissuade him. But it's fun to do so anyways.

"Tammy loves me!" Bokuto hollers. He winds his arm back like he's a baseball player about to throw the ball of the century, and he just. Chucks the coin. Both of them watch as it streaks across the air, pings hollowly against the tanuki's forehead, and plops straight into the water below. A long moment of stunned silence settles. Kuroo whistles. "I'm surprised you even hit it." Bokuto gasps. "No faith! You have no faith in me!" He scoops another coin from Kuroo's palm, nearly sending all of them clattering to the pavement. "I have faith in the fact you're not gonna have any money after this." Instead of retorting loudly like he usually would, Bokuto grumbles something suspiciously sounding like 'thats not true', which sends Kuroo into a peel of obnoxious laughter. He chucks the coin again in a fit. It flies right over the entire statue, and Kuroo has to hold himself upright with the rails to keep from collapsing. Like the seconds passing, the amount of coins in Kuroo's hand dwindles. Within the span of six coins, Bokuto's changed tactics, now tossing rather than throwing, and he's gotten closer and closer to the tanuki's head, more-less its nose. When the eighth coin hits Tammy's eye and slides sadly into the pond, Kuroo hands Bokuto the final coin as a passing of rite.   "Final one, Bo, make it count," Kuroo grins cheekily, raising a fist in a cheer. "It always counts!" Bokuto says, pinching it from Kuroo's fingers. Clutching the coin in his palm like he's channeling all of his energy into it, Bokuto pops his eyes open— when'd he even close them, Kuroo wonders absently— and, with his new strategy of throwing underhand, swings his arm back, and tosses. Maybe because it's the last one, but it seems so much more dramatic, the coin glimmering in the sunlight. There's no spin to it from what Kuroo can see in that split second, Bokuto's gotten crazy good at tossing in such a small amount of time— and for a brief second, he thinks this is the one. It lands solidly on the tanuki's head, the metal resounding like a gong, and it slides straight down the middle of its forehead. His breath catches and Bokuto goes ramrod straight, lurching forward and grasping the rails as if he's going to leap over them, and they both watch as it slides, slides, and reaches the nose— —and teeters right off, flipping as it drops to the water. Bokuto screams. Kuroo folds over in laughter. A mother hurries her child past them, pointedly not looking at them. "What the fuck! It was there!!" Bokuto screeches, leaning almost completely over the rail like he's yelling at the statue. Kuroo has to grab the back of his shirt before he joins the coins in the pond. "I was so close!! This isn't fair!" It takes a hot second for Kuroo to manage a breath to speak. "It technically counts," he placates, laughter still trickling in his voice, "It did get to the nose." "But it fell off! It doesn't count like that..." he whines, finally wilting from all of his yelling. He slouches against the rails. "I was so close..." A pause, then Kuroo finds golden eyes peering up at him. "Unless..." "Nope." Kuroo makes an X with his arms. "Not a chance. I'm not letting you make me go broke too." "But—! I was so close that time!! I could definitely do it if I had another chance! And with actual money—!" "Nuh-uh. This is how people develop gambling addictions, Bo." "Gambling's the only addiction that pays back!" "And that is where we end this conversation," Kuroo says loudly, ignoring Bokuto's indignant squawk. If he were here, Akaashi would obliterate Bokuto for such a statement in his quiet, judging kind of way. He actually shivers, fearful. He stoops to scoop up his icee that he'd set down, pointedly about to leave, but Bokuto clings to his arm, all hundred-eighty-centimeters of him weighing him in place. "One more! Just one more! And I promise that I'll stop! Even if it doesn't get in! I'll even pay you back!" Bokuto pleads, literally throwing all his cards on to the table. From the look that's in his eyes, he's going promise his first born at this rate. And— well. He can never say no to Bokuto. Kuroo sighs loud and deliberate. Bokuto perks up. Like a dog perking its ears. Goddammit. "Just one?" He asks, unrelenting. "Just this one," Bokuto reassures, unbelievably starry-eyed. Dude looks like he could catch the sun he's so determined. Even though Kuroo knows he'll keep his word, he keeps his eyebrows raised in challenge. Bokuto stubbornly does not crumble under the scrutiny. Then he sighs again, reaching for his pocket. "Lemme check if I actually have one—" "TETSUROU," Bokuto wails, louder than loud, christ, if people weren't looking at them suspiciously before, they sure as hell are now. If his face turns bright pink, he blames it on the stupid sun with its stupid UV rays. He doesn't quite fumble with the coin as he pulls it from his pocket, but there's a weird jerk in his motions, embarrassingly. It's a five-hundred yen. Yowch. "If you miss, you gotta buy me that shitty ice cream that's the shape of Tammy's head," he barters. "I was gonna do that anyways!" Bokuto cheers and snatches the coin, outshining the sun behind him. — "... Impressive," Akaashi says, eyebrows raising as excited hollering nearly blows out the phone's speaker. The screams last seconds too long, and he lowers the phone once he's realized the rest of the video's nothing but screaming. He slides the phone back to Kuroo. "I'm surprised he even made it." "Both of you have no faith in me!" Throwing his hands up, Bokuto slouches in the booth as far as humanly possible. "Of course I could get it! I'm thatskilled." "You missed the first nine times," Kuroo reminds, taking a long sip of his smoothie.   Bokuto stills. "Well, yeah, I was figuring it out! Warming up!" He flounders. "If Kuro didn't give you his money, you wouldn't've made it," Kenma says around his straw and Bokuto deflates even more until he's practically a popped balloon on top of the table. Not even glancing once at him, Akaashi scoots his plate of food away from Bokuto's slump, out of collateral damage, in an almost practiced manner. Kuroo leans back till his head touches the booth, laughing. The four of them are tucked at a table next to a window, which is luckily situated in the path of the air conditioner. Bokuto had rallied them all here despite the crummy heat, claiming that they had to meet up, he's got a plan. Kuroo's only slightly worried of what that plan might be, since the last 'plan' involved raiding Karasuno's gym during practice. (It was a general consensus that one was shot down before it took flight. He doesn't even want to think of the wrath Sawamura would deal upon them.) Kuroo glances at Akaashi, measuring his expression: there's no tell-tale furrow to his brow, no slight scowl... He's just steadily picking away at his fries, nodding as Bokuto laments. Okay. That's good. Knowing Bokuto, he's probably spilt his plan to Akaashi before hand, so seeing that Akaashi specifically does not look conflicted means it's not too wild of a plan. That, or he simply hasn't said anything to Akaashi yet. Yipes. "Sooo," Bokuto begins, grinning. He even does a drum roll on the table, to which Kenma straight up glares at and Akaashi looks like he does not associate with anyone at the table. "Let's go to the beach!" "The... beach," Kenma repeats, deadpan. Kuroo chokes on his sip and spends the next minute trying not to die. None of them even try to thump him on the back, more-less glance at him to make sure he's not dying. Bastards. "The beach!" Bokuto repeats, leaning in, his chest nearly flat against the table. His eyes glimmer with a near tangible excitement. "Let's find a couple of days where we can go! Or it can even be just a day trip where'd we leave in the morning and spend the whole day there! I already looked, and the train ride wouldn't be too horrible, and I know where some public beaches are!" Kuroo raises his eyebrows, surprised. "You've really done your research this time, huh, Bo." "You betcha! There's no better time then now! And— We gotta play beach volleyball! If it's us four, I'm pretty sure that's more than enough to play!" Instantaneously, Kenma's face twists up into a scowl. "I'm not going to play volleyball. I'm not." "Kenmaaa!" "I'm not." Slouching into his seat, Kenma looks as resolute as he possibly can, even with his bright pink drink clasped in his hands. "It's going to be exhausting. You'll want to play too many matches, too, and that on top of the sun sounds awful." He slouches further until his chin and mouth disappears under the neck of his hoodie. End of input. Just before Bokuto can badger him more, Akaashi cuts in. "He's right, though," Akaashi says neutrally. Purposefully pauses to eat a fry. "What kind of 'relaxing break' would it be if we're going to be playing volleyball? We'd be doing the same thing if we stayed here." "But it's on the beach!" "My point didn't change." Like he's been shot, Bokuto slumps against the table. Presses his cheek on the cool surface, pouty as hell. "Do you just not wanna go to the beach...? Is that it...?" he asks more to the table than to Akaashi. Akaashi flicks his eyes to Bokuto then back to his fries. "It's going to be packed. And hot. I'd rather go during autumn." "But that's the point," he whines. "The hot sands, the blazing sun, the hot babes..." Clicking his tongue distastefully, Kenma redirects his attention to his phone. "'Knew there was an ulterior motive." And he drops the conversation with that one simple move. Once again, Kuroo chokes on his drink. Fuck, he needs to stop doing that— "C'mon! I mean!" Bokuto rises up, slamming his hands on the table and nearly sends a fork flying. "We'd be showin' off our stuff while we play! There's gotta be someone who'd be impressed! Anyone who'd think we're cool!" "I don't think it's necessary to try and look cool, Bokuto-san." While he speaks, Akaashi reorganizes the scattered cutlery, his motions very obviously a distraction from making eye contact. Kuroo salutes him in his thoughts. Even the strongest may fall to Bokuto's puppy-eyed look. "Regardless. I'm not keen on heat stroke. There's no sanctuary in hot water that's packed with people. I'd probably wouldn't go even if you said we wouldn't play volleyball, it's just not the right season for it." "But..." Bokuto flounders. Actually droops. Poor dude looks like all of his dreams have been crushed right in front of his eyes and its crumbly remnants scattered to the wind. Right around now, Kuroo decides he's finally had his fill of letting Kenma and Akaashi rip into his silly plans, and pats Bokuto's knuckles. "It's alright, big guy," he says, not quite keeping the grin from his voice, "I'm down to go. When are ya free?" And, he sees Kenma briefly roll his eyes into oblivion, Akaashi wince and brace. By some miraculous force, Bokuto does not quite burst at the seams, but comes very close to. — [Bokuto 10:22 A.M.] TETSU COME OUT FRONT DOoR NOW !!! ! It takes him a couple minutes to actually read the message, still groggy. He's been awake for the better part of an hour, but he's been too lethargic, soaking in his sweaty bed. Blegh. Even with all the covers kicked off into a pile at the end of his bed, he's still sweating profusely. The little portable fan he's got set up on his side table is cranked to its highest setting, too! This is bullshit, he thinks, closing his eyes and breathing slow, if he thinks I'm gonna go outside in this heat, this early... It's a little foreboding, that message. A little suspicious. Bokuto has no limits, and that will not change today. Even if he were to ignore the message, it would not stop him. Bokuto Koutarou is a force to be reckoned with. So he rolls out of bed. Wriggling on a pair of pants blindly grabbed from the floor, he clunkily makes his way down the stairs. He supposes it's a little miracle his mother isn't around to experience whatever Bokuto's got in store, or to even tease him about how this is the earliest he's ever been up during the break. Then she'd invite Bokuto inside for breakfast, regardless of whatever's waiting outside the door for him. Christ, she might even invite disaster inside. Have it sit at the table and hand it a plate of eggs. When he steps into the foyer, he can hear no immediately horrendous noises coming from outside, which actually does narrow down the options of why in the hell he's been called out of his house. Still doesn't reduce the amount of disaster that may occur, but at least it probably won't bother the neighbors. He puts a little steel in his spine and opens the door. Something golden, small, and very fast darts towards his knees and the next thing he knows he is flat on his ass, completely plowed over by what he belatedly realizes is a dog. All the air's knocked outta his lungs and he doesn't even get the chance to recover, especially when there's suddenly dog tongue all over his face. "Shit!" He thinks he hears the gods laughing at him. Bastards. Somewhere behind his obscured view of dog, Bokuto peers over him, face pinched apologetically, "Sorry, Tetsu! She got really excited and tore herself from my grip..." There's a sharp tug and the dog is pried of the top of him, finally letting him breathe. Since Kuroo's chemical makeup is one-hundred percent asshole, instead of asking why do you have a dog since as of three seconds ago he was very sure Bokuto didn't own one, or even pulling himself up from his current sprawl on the floor first, he says, "Should you really be walking a dog if you can't even hold on to the leash?" Bokuto rocks back on his heels, a corgi squirming in his hands as it tries to lick his chin, gaping at Kuroo like he's been hit. "I'm a little hurt. Should I be hurt? Actually, yeah, I am. Y'know what, just for saying that, Petunia, get him." Without warning, he releases the dog. "Petunia—?" Kuroo doesn't even get time to be boggled. With the force of a canon ball, the corgi crashes head first into his stomach again, maybe bruising some of his ribs. His fate doesn't look too well, so he resigns to it and eases back onto the floor, letting the dog lick his cheeks and forehead to its hearts content. Halfheartedly he pushes the dog's face from his, staring up to the ceiling. "You... named your dog Petunia?" he asks. Petunia's ears perk up and she briefly pulls away, looking down to him as if waiting for a command. After a half second of nothing, she returns to her original plan of cleaning his face for him. From his peripheral he sees Bokuto move and resettle next to him, feels his knee pressing into his side. "I don't have a dog?" Kuroo looks pointedly at Petunia who is slobbering all over the front of his shirt. "OH!" Rather than helping him, Bokuto reaches out and gives Petunia a hearty rub on the head. Petunia licks his hand like a greeting. A fond look lingers in Bokuto's eyes and Kuroo tries not to ogle for too long. "Petunia's not my dog, she's my neighbors! Ya know the lil granny next door? She asked me to take care of her dog for a while since her son isn't around to do it, he's on a trip or something, and she's got bad knees 'n all..." "God, I was gonna say what kinda bullshit—" he throws an arm over his eyes, nudging Petunia away. Finally she seems to get the memo and bounds to over Bokuto. "There's no way you wouldn't name your dog something silly if given the chance," Kuroo says. Bokuto has the audacity to look mildly offended, opening his mouth to retaliate, and halts. Closes his mouth. Pouts. "Touché," squinting his eyes, Bokuto huffs. "I think Petunia is a fine name, thank you very much!" "Never said it wasn't," he counters, then pulls himself up. "Just not one I'd think you'd go for. Maybe something like Soup." Looking up in thought, Bokuto nods like he's seriously considering it. "Hmm! Soup! Not bad! I was gonna go for something like Chad, or..." "Chad?" "It's fun!" "I don't think I could ever look at your dog and not lose it if you named it Chad." Bokuto gasps dramatically. "How could you! It's a lovely name!" Leaning down, he bonks his forehead with Petunia's, getting almost face-to-face with her. Well. About as face-to-face he can get with such an antsy dog. "Petunia, don't you think it's a good name?" Petunia, such a darling, hops up and tries licking his nose. He laughs, though it'd probably be more correct to call it a giggle, scratching beneath the dog's jaw. "Yeah! I know! It's brilliant!" Although he could sit here for hours, just watching Bokuto mess with this little corgi, laugh softer but just as bright, they are currently just sitting in his doorway with the door open, the heat crawling in. He can hear the phantom voice of his mom scolding him, Tetsurou, what the fuck, close the goddamn door, do you even know how much of the heat is coming in? "I'm guessing you didn't just bring her here to show her off, right?" Kuroo says pointedly. Both of them look up at him, eyes all sparkly 'n shit. Dammit, he thinks, squinting, it's already enough of a bright morning. "I thought about just going on a jog and taking her along, and I was, actually!" Bokuto says, lolling his head back to look up at the ceiling. Kuroo takes the moment to actually glance at his clothes— shorts, his usual kneepads, loose shirt. There's a very slight sheen of sweat on his arms and neck. "Then I passed your house and thought, hey, why don't I get Tetsurou?" "You woke me up to go jogging with you?" "With me and Petunia!" he reiterates, lifting Petunia up slightly like he's presenting her. Her tail wags with the force of typhoon winds and audibly smacks against Bokuto's bicep. Now. He has two options. Option one: go with Bokuto and sweat his ass off outside. Option two: don't go with Bokuto, get his persistent, moping messages, and sweat his ass off inside. Both options are gross and sweaty. Obviously. Obviously. Kuroo literally has to keep himself from grinning too too wide, reaching over to prod at the fleshy part of Bokuto's side. "Ya convinced me. Lemme change first. Help yourself to the freezer if you want." Bokuto cheers and, by extension of excitement, Petunia howls with him. — The teenager with sugar-pink hair at the ice cream stand greets them by name. Almost even has their usual order ready for them by the time they step up. To change things up, Kuroo gets a fudge pop. Dunno why— maybe it's just a chocolate kind of day. Bokuto hmms and haas in contemplation for five minutes. Familiar with his antics, the sugar-pink teenager lets him take his time. A queue of children has formed behind him, but none of them are putting up a fit— some of them even give him their input. ("The sonic one tastes more like blueberries!", "Strawberry's my favorite! Get that one!!") In the end Bokuto still gets his usual absurdly bright popsicle, a fluorescent-neon blue so obscenely blue it absorbs all surrounding light, though he's mopey whenever he leaves the stand. "It's not like we don't come here all the time," Kuroo drawls, almost done with his by the time Bokuto comes shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He didn't think it was possible to be this put out by ice cream choices, but this may be the saddest he's seen Bokuto ever since his last funk in a volleyball match. "But... but..." Almost glumly, Bokuto pulls the wrapper off and takes a bite. Never has he looked so unenthusiastic about his electric-blue pop before. "I wanted to get Bubbles..." Kuroo points his fudge pop at him accusingly. "You just wanted to see how fucked up her face could get." "Well, yeah!" Shocked, like he's surprised Kuroo has the audacity to state the obvious. "They're always funny! The last one I got didn't even have eyes!" "I remember that, yeah." The poor Bubbles pop not only was missing the whites of her eyes, but her pigtails had ended up in her cheeks. He's not entirely sure why the two of them had found it so funny in the moment, but they sure as hell did. Both of them had nearly collapsed onto the pavement from how much they howled with laughter— he's pretty sure a couple of bystanders thought they were on drugs or dying. He grins fondly. "Besides, I always end up getting this one!" Bokuto whines, his teeth already turning blue, "I mean, I like this one, but the Bubbles has its own kinda vibe to it, y'know? The chaotic energy of the fuck-up that's doomed for it and the gumballs for eyes. Love that crunch." Kuroo grins, exasperated, the remnants of the popsicle stick between his teeth. "I have no clue what you're talking about, man." In no particular rush, they meander along the sidewalk. Beside them, the river glitters with the sun's reflection, only blinding Kuroo whenever Bokuto's accidentally a small step behind to block out the glare. They're at the riverside that's caught somewhere between both their homes, not too horrible a walk from either to be an inconvenience. Whenever they have time to hang, they come around here. "So!" Bokuto beams once he's made a significant dent in his popsicle, fist pumped up in the air. With a plop, a small chunk of his popsicle flings onto the pavement. The lack of reaction from him is either him not noticing or not letting it get to him. "The beach!" "The beach," Kuroo nods. "This Wednesday." "This Wednesday!" Bokuto crows, excitement exponentially growing with each passing second. "I finally got some air into my volleyball, so we can use it when we go!" Bokuto says. He pats his bag where there's a very obvious volleyball-sized bulge. Of course he brought it along with him. Of course. "Though, I think there's a specific kind of volleyball we're meant to use at the beach? Er... because it... floats? Doesn't hurt as much when you spike it?" "That's just a beach ball, y'know, the inflatable red-blue-yellow balls?" Kuroo motions with his hand although he's not exactly sure what he's trying to gesture. "Not really specific for beach volleyball. Some people use it. They're inflatable, though. We— well, you might accidentally pop it if we use one." Gasping, Bokuto swipes at him. "What! I would not!!" Kuroo raises his eyebrows. "You nearly popped a regular volleyball with your super-inner-deluxe-crosses. An inflatable one would be vanquished in a single hit from you, you volleyball beast. We'd probably be playing with people who aren't volleyball players, too— Imagine the collateral damage. I don't think I'm ready to see you actually shatter someone's arm," he says drily. Grimacing, Bokuto surprisingly does not counter his point. "See, if Akaashi and Kenma were to come, we wouldn't have to worry..." he murmurs through the side of his mouth. Not quite bitter. Maybe edging on bitter. Maybe he's a little bit more hurt by their immediate refusal of the plan that Kuroo initially thought. "Nah, I think it might be for the better," Kuroo says flippantly. Cocking an eyebrow, Bokuto just gives him a look. "Well. Yeah, I mean, them not coming means we have no setters or braincells with us, but that means we have all the more freedom to do whatever we want," he points out, like he's revealing a hidden secret. "Also. Even if Kenma came with us, he woulda stayed underneath an umbrella the whole time, playin' on his gameboy. Completely invalidates the reason of going to the beach." Humming considerately, with his chin between his thumb and finger, Bokuto actually perks up, dawning on the possibilities. "Yer right. 'Kaashi's too nice, so he would keep Kenma company, so then regardless..." "Bingo," grinning, Kuroo pats him heavily on the shoulder. "So now that they're not coming— we literally have nothing stopping us!" "Do you think we can rent surfboards?" Honest to god, Bokuto twinkles he's so damn excited with the idea. "I've never surfed before! We could go surfing!" Kuroo has to bite down very hard on his tongue to keep from immediately saying let's do it. "I mean. Just because our residential braincells won't be there doesn't mean we should go do wacky shit that may end up with one of us drowned. 'Kaashi would skin me." "What are ya talkin' about? We can totally get someone to teach us!" "I think it just might be better to test the waters, yeah?" A little overwhelmed by the enthusiasm, Kuroo backtracks. "Next time we go to the beach we can surf. First we gotta make sure we can make it without a disaster playing volleyball there. Or accidentally wiping out some old grandma if the wind fucks with us whenever we're playing." Which reminds him— "Ah, shit. Wait a fuckin'—" Kuroo nearly drops both his phone with how quickly he pulls it from his pocket. Currently occupied with a bite of ice, Bokuto just peers curiously at him. He scrolls through the calendar he's got on his phone almost desperately, spotting Wednesday and the date— "Shit. I can't make it this week," he mutters, a scowl pulling at his face. Scratches at his cheek to keep it from cutting too deep. Dammit, how the hell did he forget? "My gram's birthday is this Tuesday. Ma's been designated as party host, and..." He cranes his head back and groans at the sky. "Fucking hell. My whole extended family's gonna be here for like, three days! I can't believe I forgot." "You forgot your grandma's birthday?" Bokuto says, scandalized. Even covers his mouth in a shocked gasp, like he's some horrified maiden from the eighteenth century hearing something uncouth. Dramatic asshole. "What a horrible grandson!" "Hey, I don't want to hear anything, you barely remember your own," Kuroo snipes back, punctuating with the popsicle stick. Bokuto shrugs, beaming. Not a damn care in the world. "I always have you to remember for me, anyways! I at least remember my granny's. Unlike someone here..." Kuroo snorts. "Bastard," he says, elbowing Bokuto, which consequently nearly sends the popsicle flying from his hands. "I wish I could just bail, but I know my mom would give me shit for the next decade if I did." Eyebrows shooting up, Bokuto smacks his arm both, maybe in retaliation, maybe not. Maybe he's shocked? "Dude! Our beach trip isn't that important, you shouldn't skip out on family just to hang with me! Your mom'll give me shit, too, if I let you come along!" "I see your true motive, you bastard. You just want my mom to like you enough to let you steal shit from our fridge," he accuses. Bokuto has the gall to not look ashamed of being found out. "Anyways, you're a helluva lot more fun to be around, y'know?" Kuroo continues, tipping his head back, back until he can't go further. He feels a little bare, talking like this. About this. "You don't ask me about the college I'm gonna go to or how I'm still single. Is that just an old person thing? To snoop in my life?" Gnawing on the popsicle stick, he shoves his phone back into his pocket begrudgingly. "Plus, you wanted to go this week. You've already gotten everything ready, right? We shouldn't have to push it off because I forgot about a family reunion." "Wuh?" Bokuto only looks slightly perplexed. He bites down on his popsicle in thought. "If we can't do it this week, we can just do it next, right?" He says around his bite, like it's the most obvious thing in the whole universe, the only possible answer. A bead of melted popsicle runs down the wooden stick, spilling across Bokuto's fingers. He awkwardly gurgles, unmelted ice still in his mouth, and he tries his best to lick the trail and proceeds to knock himself in the forehead with the ice pop. It's. Endearing, maybe, if not completely embarrassing to watch. Ahh, Kuroo thinks and averts his eyes. His neck is warm under the sun. "Alright, then," Kuroo says, rubbing at the back of his neck, "Same time next week? I swear I won't get wrapped up in anything." The grin Bokuto has rivals the sun above them. "I'm holding you to that! You're gonna buy me a Bubbles pop if you skip out!!" — "Man, is the AC even on?" Yamamoto knocks his head against the wall after collapsing against it. There's a pause as he inhales half his waterbottle. "I'm. I'm melting." "It's on," Shibayama says though he doesn't sound all too convinced, even though he's planted directly in front of the airflow. He and Inuoka look like they'd like to crawl into the AC unit since maybe that would be cooler. Kenma lays nearby, almost dead. "It sure doesn't feel like it's on," Kenma says into the floor. Kuroo reaches down and pulls on the back of his shirt. The noise of his shirt peeling off his back is, quite frankly, really gross. "C'mon— get up, you're gonna become a puddle there." "I might." "No, you're not," Yaku swoops in, forcing a water bottle into his hands. When Kenma doesn't move immediately Yaku threatens, "I'm not going to force you to drink if you don't move, but I'm going to force you to drink if you don't move." Immediately Kenma moves. "Don't." "Can we end practice early?" Lev cries from his place sprawled out on the floor. Fumbling with his water bottle, Kuroo watches as Haiba Lev, residential skyscraper and airhead of Nekoma, tips the bottle back and accidentally waterboards himself. Kuroo presses his mouth into a thin line, trying to keep his expression unchanging. From beside him, Yaku's turned away, shoulders shaking. Kuroo glances towards the clock. It's not too far into practice, maybe forty minutes. Usually by this type they're all raring to go, just getting started into their groove, but as he looks around, there's unmistakable sheen of sweat already layered on the floorboards and everyone's moving so sluggishly. Even at training camp they're not this exhausted, not even on the final days. "If you don't mind going home in this heat right now, I can talk to coach about it," he offers. Lev's face twists like he's tasting something nasty. "Neither sound good," Lev says hoarsely, using his shirt as a rag to wipe off his face. His face is just as damp as it was before when he pulls his shirt away. He groans. "I can't even wipe off my face! My shirt's already too sweaty to even absorb it! I think my face just got more wet..." Yaku's eyebrows raise like he cannot even fathom. "So you just smeared all of your sweat onto your face?" "That's fucking gross, dude," Yamamoto laughs, more amused than disgusted. "It's just sweat! It's natural!" Lev screeches, growing embarrassed, flushing even more under his skin. "I was already sweating on my face!" Teshiro, an angel, gives Lev a towel to save himself. As Lev scrubs at his face, Teshiro looks towards Kuroo, curious. "Would it even be wise to end practice today? It's meant to get hotter this week, then we'll have to practice in that since we'd've stopped this one." "Hotter?" Lev blurts, jerking the towel from his face to gape. Even though he just toweled off his face, the sweat just reappears. "It's already hotter than the sun! It can't get hotter than this!" "That's what a heatwave does, dumbass," Yaku grumbles. "Are you even from Tokyo? It's like this every summer." He nudges Lev's thigh not unkindly, but sharp enough to get him moving. "C'mon, nothing gets to ya, but some shitty weather does?" Although hesitantly, Kuroo calls for break. No one audibly protests, but he sees it in the dragging of feet, the slant of shoulders. At least they're good sports about it. Except for Lev. He'll have to check with Nekomata about calling practice over early today. — If he were an asshole, he could say 'I told you so!' and point and laugh. But he's not an asshole. He's nice. So he says: "Dude, you look like a cherry." Bokuto shoots him what's possibly the sharpest frown he's ever seen on him. It should be threatening since Bokuto has never given him such a stink eye, but the skin on his face is bright pink and there is no way on the planet he can take him seriously like this. The smile that threatens to split across his face almost slips by him, so he has to press a hand to his mouth to keep it from growing. Though he can try, there's no way he can keep the amusement from the tail of his words. "How in the hell did this happen?" Parked on a stool in the bathroom, Bokuto fidgets with his shirt in his hands, borderline embarrassed. His back is open for the viewing, the tanned expanse of it abruptly changing to an angry pink in clean lines at each of his shoulders and a wide scoop on his nape, along with a small gradation on the small of his back from where his shirt probably rode up. With how the sunburn's nearly glowing it's so bright, he's surprised it isn't audibly sizzling. "That's the thing," Bokuto rocks back in his seat, miserable, "I didn't even do anything! Well, not on purpose, but..." he flings his hands up in exasperation, nearly tossing the shirt with the motion. "I was just playin' with some of the kids next door, since their dad had to go get food for dinner— I wasn't even out there that long!" "So, due to the kindness in your heart, you've... fried, for a lack of better words," Kuroo snorts. There's no other word to describe the way his skin is radiating heat. If he was out there for any longer, Kuroo's worried his skin would have started blistering and boiling. Unsurprisingly, the heatwave's been unyielding. Bokuto blinks. Gasps with his whole chest. "Oh god, I hope they didn't get as burned as I did—! It was so fucking hot earlier—" He straightens up and for a second Kuroo's pretty sure he's going to leap to his feet and sprint to their house, just to make sure they're alright, up in arms with bottles and bottles of aloe vera. "They probably didn't," he quickly intercedes, almost reaching out for Bokuto's shoulders to guide him back to the stool but deflects his motion last second. There's no place on his shoulders that's not burnt, and he's not physically or mentally prepared to face the reaction if he were to even touch the sensitive burns. Unaware of his brief dilemma, Bokuto peers up to him, puppy-eyed, unsure, jittery. Kuroo sighs through his nose. "They probably didn't burn. Since... well, I'm assuming you went out to get the mail or something and the dad roped you into watching them while he went out, right?" "Right!" he nods enthusiastically. "So they were probably already planning to play outside," he points out, "hence, they probably had sunscreen on already. Unlike you, who didn't plan on staying out there aside from getting the mail." Bokuto ahhs in understanding, settling back into his seat. "Makes sense!" He leans back, back until he touches the cool wall behind him. A wince scrunches up his face but he relaxes once the initial pain of the sunburn fades from the chill. "I just wasn't expecting to scorch like I did. I've been outside for longer and never got burned! I really did get screwed over today, huh! Does a heatwave also mean that UV rays get stronger?" "Maybe," Kuroo shrugs solemnly. He himself feels the heat of a sunburn growing on the back of his neck, tips of his ears— he was outside for, how long? A couple of minutes to the station, then couple to walk here? It's probably an actual miracle Bokuto didn't straight up get sun poisoning. He enters the bathroom a little more, resting against the counter with his arms crossed. "So. You didn't just call me over just so I could laugh at you, right?" A pout pulls at his face. It's more of a subdued pout— probably because it hurts to be expressionate with burns that bad. He looks very sheepish for a moment, and Kuroo honestly cannot tell if his face just got pinker or not. He moves to rub his neck and immediately pulls away once he touches it, making a face. "I... I needed someone to put the aloe stuff on the spots I can't reach..." The acoustics of the bathroom amplifies Kuroo's laughter to a deafening note. He doesn't mean to laugh this hard, he swears, but it's just so— so cute of him. "You—" he wipes under his eye, getting dangerously close to straight up giggling. Bokuto's coiled up like a spring, pouting, embarrassed. "—couldn't you get your mom to help you? or your dad?" "It's! It's embarrassing!" he whines, throwing his shirt at Kuroo's face. "And besides, they're out for the day! And I mean—!!" "Why not Akaashi? He lives closer than I do!" "I didn't want to bother him!" "So you wanted to bother me?" He guesses Bokuto doesn't catch the amused lilt in his voice because guilt flashes across his face. The tension bleeds from him until he's slouching. "'Kaashi woulda lectured me on being more cautious," he slumps against his knees, staring at the tiles on the floor, "I knew you woulda just laughed and, like, told me to be careful, but I wouldn't feel as ridiculous as I would've felt if it were Akaashi..." Abruptly, he straightens up. "Not that I don't appreciate his fretting! I know it's kinda weird, so, I, uh..." Ahh. He gets that. He wonders if Kenma feels like that whenever he scolds him for staying up late and playing video games. Then again, Kenma's not a soft-hearted beefcake— he honestly probably doesn't give a shit about what Kuroo says, seeing that he still does it. Kuroo just waves off the worry. "Nah, I get it. It's a little less embarrassing since the worst I'll do is poke fun at you. Where's the Banana Boat stuff?" "Under the sink," Bokuto says automatically, then freezes. And, like a dawning sun, his expression brightens. "Bro...?" Kuroo's knees crack when he crouches down to the sink cabinets. Deep in the corner, past an unfathomable stock of hair gel, is the soothing lotion. "I'm already here, so I might as well," he shrugs, grin growing alongside Bokuto's. (As if. Even if Bokuto was forthright whenever he messaged him under the guise of 'tetsu pls its URGENT', he'd still come over and help.) (Whipped.) "Tetsuuu," he cries, reaching out like he wants to tackle him in a hug but physically cannot. "You're an absolute lifesaver, man! I can do my arms just fine, I just can't reach my back..." "I mean, it's just the nape of your neck. A little below it. You can't reach that?" Kuroo asks, stepping around Bokuto and taking a seat on the tub's edge. In a near habitual motion, like they've done this before, Bokuto immediately leans back and slots right between Kuroo's knees. He pointedly does not think anything of it, not at all, and chalks it up as it's easier for me to reach this way. He does not think about how warm Bokuto's skin is, even if it's not the sunburnt parts. Not even about how Bokuto tips his head back, nearly knocking the crown of his head into Kuroo's nose, how the smile curves his eyes from this angle. Not at all. Nope. Shirking, Bokuto shakes his head, the motion pulling Kuroo from inside his head. "My shoulders are tender since, y'know, they're crispy." To show, he raises his arm as high as it can go without making him strain— which, understandably, isn't very high. Maybe high enough to pluck something off a low hanging shelf. "And I'm not flexible at all! Even if I was able to move my arms more, I don't think I can reach it? I don't... really know how far it goes down, I can't really see it. And I can't really feel it out..." "It starts riiiight here." Kuroo presses the pad of his finger shy of where the pink starts, right above where his shoulder blades meet. Immediately he feels and sees every part of Bokuto tense up, ridged. It startles a laugh from him and he retracts his finger, and like an off switch, Bokuto slumps back down. "Dude," Bokuto laughs with his belly, the sound taking up the entire space of the room. He misses by a wide berth when he swings around to smack him. "You gotta gimme some kinda warning! That scared the shit outta me!" The muscles in his back dance as he straightens up, rolling his shoulders, and, frankly, it's a little distracting. Kuroo takes to looking at the soft hair curling at his nape instead. Which doesn't help. Shit. "Well, this is rather intimate," he says right over his inner turmoil because he is a man of composure, he cannot, will not, let this be where he loses it. "Ya sure you're not squeamish enough for me to do this?" Bracing, Bokuto says, "I'm ready for whatever you've got for me!" "Then I'll be sure to slather you up," he says lowly, squirting the aloe into his palm. The pump sputters, making a weird goopy noise, and his whole ambience of being even slightly risqué is ruined instantly. Whole bodied, Bokuto shivers. Laugh reaching squeaky, he twists around, planting a palm on Kuroo's face and shoving. "Dude. I'm literally a french fry right now. A fuckin' hush-puppy! No innuendos, please, it really hurts to smile like this! Keep it tame!!" Kuroo's nearly too entranced by the pitch of the laugh that he forgets himself and nearly flips backwards into the tub. "What! That's what I do best, though!" "Banana Boat just isn't sexy enough, Tetsu!" "Yeah, yeah, sure," he says, and without warning, smears the lotion across Bokuto's neck. Bokuto shrieks. "I said warn me!!" "Oops." — "I could kill you," Kenma grumbles, impatiently tucking his hair behind his ears. It slides right back out from behind his ear, damp with sweat. The entirety of him sags, like he's about to melt into a puddle on the pavement. "I could really kill you right now." It's easy to pretend he doesn't see the smoldering glare he's being given. He's dealt with it for... how many years now? Shrugging it off is just as easy as swiping a bug off his skin. "The gym has air conditioning. C'mon, we're already halfway there." He specifically does not say anything about how both of them and every person under the sun knows the gym's AC is shitty at best. And at least twelve teenage boys crammed in front of it? It can't even be called cooling at that point. Kenma huffs. He shifts his gym bag in a restless motion, pulling at his shirt. "Why are we practicing in this hell weather," he grumbles, "I'm already exhausted. I want to go home." "We've been let off the hook a whole lot recently— we gotta at least actually get some practice in instead of just calling it a day after warm ups." "No." "Yes, we have to." "No," he gripes. His hands flutter around again, pushing back his hair, readjusting his bag, fanning with his shirt. "We are going to be perfectly fine if we miss out on practice because of a heatwave. There's no matches in forever. We can practice when it's not hotter than satan's ass outside." "Sure, but then we'll have missed out chances to level up. You want to go against Hinata at your best, don't you?" From his peripheral, he sees Kenma straighten up. He grins. Hook, line, sinker. Kenma scrunches his nose and swings a hand at Kuroo's gut. "I hate you." "Do not." "I'm not doing this. I do. I'm about to die in my own sweat and other teenage boys sweat and it's going to suck. I could be at home right now. I'm out here, going to die in this shitty heatwave, because of you." "It's just sweat. You're already sweaty," Kuroo points out, "so it's just sweat on top of sweat." "And? you think I want to get even more sweaty? Bold of you," Kenma seethes, shoving the gym doors open with more force than necessary.   Entering the gym feels like entering a goddamn sauna, and practice hasn't even started yet. Kuroo mourns in advanced. He's glad this is one of the practices they do without Nekomata around— he's not sure if it'd be alright for the old man to move in this temperature. "Ah, Kenma!" Lev cries from inside the locker room, somehow still excitable in this oven of a gym. "Don't come near me," Kenma seethes before disappearing behind the locker room doors. Kuroo tilts his head back. Breathes in deeply. This is going to fucking suck. Twenty minutes into practice they've had four breaks. The breaks so far have consisted of refilling and refilling their bottles they've been drained so fast. Also a lot of laying around. Sweaty imprints are spotted across the floorboards from where they've laid. They're almost like chalk outlines for bodies. The analogy feels a little morbid. Frankly, at this rate, they'll have laid around more than done any substantial practice. He thought that the AC coulda helped somewhat in the slightest— he probably should have known it's practically useless after it reaches a certain temperature outside. On the fifth break, Lev loses it. "Wait, wait, wait," Lev whines, clutching the spout with a desperation, "I thought global warming would get us all in thirty years! Why is it happening now?! Heatwaves just aren't like this!!" "Move, you big idiot," Yaku grits, giving Lev a hard shove that doesn't result in much, seeing how Lev is quite literally wrapped around the spout. There's a real chance of bodily harm that Lev does not seem to realize yet. "It's just a heatwave, dumbass. There's no way its global warming— imagine the kinda crap we woulda have to have done to cut the expectancy by thirty, to make the temperatures that bad." Lev shoves back. Why is he putting up a fight. Why did he think it was okay to wrap himself around the spigot, Kuroo wonders, briefly considering using his power as captain to get him the fuck off. He wants his damn water. He's going to become horrifically dehydrated from sweating, standing right here. "Its not that hard to believe! Seeing what corporations can do, if they all just said screw it, the ozone layer could be gone in a snap! The greenhouse effect could go into tenfold with their word!" Kai swoops in to refill his bottle when Yaku solidly plants his foot on Lev's gut, which, surprisingly, unsurprisingly, leads to a scuffle. "It's only this prefecture," Kai cuts into Lev's hysteria, sounding not in the least worried, though he's sweat covered and already going for another refill he just drank all of it so fast. What a saint. "I have relatives in Hyougo and they've said it's not like this there." "But that's also Hyougo, which is, like, far away!" "Very eloquent of you, Lev." "Why here?" Finally, Lev peels away from the faucet, falling away with Yaku's foot in his gut. He flops straight back onto the pavement and nearly gets trampled now that the water's free again. "Ow—! How— how could global warming just get concentrated in one area? That doesn't make sense!" "It's not global warming," Kenma says absently. There's a flurry of emoticons on his phone screen that can only come from one Hinata Shouyo. He shoves the device into his pocket once he notices the cheeky curve of Kuroo's eyes. "It's kind of like a monsoon that's just moving slow. But instead of rain, it's heat." "But what coulda even made this kind of thing happen? I've never heard of anything like that," Inuoka wonders aloud. The absolute god-send, he helps Lev from the ground where he probably would've stayed. "Supernatural," Fukunaga pops in sagely, wiggling his fingers in his strange emphasis. Lev and Inuoka collectively scrunch their faces up, unbelieving. Kenma shrugs. "At this rate it doesn't seem that far-fetched." "It's just a test of willpower, ain't it?" Taketora says, squirting the water from his bottle with such force it actually makes him choke when it hits a certain spot in the back of his throat. From beside him, Kenma makes such a face at the word willpower and the gurgling. "The more resilient we are in this kind of heat, the better we'll be in matches, right?" Smiling politely but with an exasperation around the edges, Kai says, "I'm not sure what kind of conditioning this would even be. I doubt we'll have any matches in this kind of heat." Because he's so nice and also the captain, he lets everyone else on the team refill their waters first. Finally, finally, he can refill his. Kuroo feels a century-old weariness when he finally takes an endless gulp. "Let's just call it off for today," he decides. —

"—clocking in at 39 degrees, it's officially the hottest day in Tokyo this summer! There's a sparing amount of clouds out today, but don't rely on them for cover. Take precaution going outside today, drink plenty of water—"

Pulling at the neck of his shirt, Kuroo tries to lend his ear more, but the broadcast's cutting out. Behind the counter the store attendant curses, flicking at the radio which looks a little too archaic to even been working in the first place. It reaches static before the spokesperson's voice becomes somewhat comprehensible again, the tinniness of the radio nearly drowning out every word.

From somewhere deeper in the store he can hear Bokuto still humming about which drink to choose. They took a pitstop here both because they were thirsty and because they may just have turned to mush if they stayed outside any longer. The broadcaster sounds a little too chipper about the damn heat than she needs to be.

Asshole. She's probably in some lovely air-conditioned building, unbothered by this bullshit. He's out here in this crummy store with the only form of relief coming from a rickety fan on the counter.

Ugh. Uuughhh.

Something very, very cold touches his neck. The noise he lets out is too high pitched, something he would love to say didn't come from him, but sadly, unfortunately, it does. Whirling around, he snatches the bottle from Bokuto's hands, who's face is so scrunched up to keep from laughing it's practically a raisin.

"Ha-ha, very funny," Kuroo says blandly, jabbing at Bokuto's side with the bottle. Bokuto screeches.

"You jumped! You actually jumped!" He's laughing too hard to even try and fight back. Each jab he gets to the side he shrieks at, folding in more on himself until he's basically crouched over. Kuroo decides to spare him for a moment to let him breathe. "You jumped, like, two feet in the air! Like a cat!" Comically, Bokuto gasps even louder. Unfolds like a dry sponge getting a splash of water. "Like a CAT! DUDE—"

"Don't say it."

"NEKOMA—"

Kuroo smothers Bokuto before his volume can amp up even more. "Understood, you've made this joke a billion times, alma mater cats, I'm basically a cat, yeah, yeah," he mocks. Bokuto's eyes crease up and he's laughing again, against Kuroo's hand, which is a weird feeling, so he peels it off before it gets weirder. "I can't believe you still find those kind of jokes funny. Bird brain."

"Excuse you, but owls are the smartest creature out there!" Bokuto puffs up like he's personally proud of it.

"They're literally not." Kuroo pokes his tongue out at the abashed gasp. "Crows have you beat. Even pigeons are smarter than owls."

The look of pure hurt on his face is hysterical. He actually goes through a facial adventure, which touches upon rage, grief, confusion, betrayal— before he just mutters: "Fuckin' Karasuno..."

Snorting hard enough it hurts, Kuroo puts a hand on Bokuto's shoulder to steer him out of the store. The second they step out, it's like walking into a different world, a different universe. He might be imagining it, but Kuroo feels the sweat immediately grow on his spine and soak through his shirt. Gross. Bokuto grumbles something deep. Wipes the sweat from under his eyes. They power on.

Maybe three minutes out in the heat and all energy they had earlier has sapped out of them and dissipated into the atmosphere. He thinks he saw it go with the heat coming from the pavement.

He is basically half his height he is sagging from the heat so much. Each step he takes the more he wilts. Perhaps not all that strangely, he can relate to the foliage they're passing, a grim shade of brown instead of their usual green. He, too, feels like he's withering at the edges. Overheating, dehydrated, about to set ablaze from the sun rays. In the false kinship he feels in the moment, he briefly considers sharing some water with the plants. Then he realizes that's stupid. Ridiculously stupid. There is not enough for both him and every single willowing plant out here.

"It's hot," Bokuto says, tone flat for once. When Kuroo glances over, his face is so scrunched up in a grimace so intensely Kuroo's momentarily scared it won't come off his face. "It's hot."

"Bo, if you keep talking about it, you'll only be more aware of it," Kuroo grits, lacking bite. The water bottle's already losing its blissfully cold condensation. He presses it to the back of his neck anyway— anything feels like a blessing against the sun.

"Te-tsu-rou!" Bokuto bursts, gesturing wildly, almost knocking Kuroo's elbow. It's a miracle he can even move this animatedly in this hellish beatdown. "I'm sweating my entire weight, man! I can feel the sweat between my toes! It might be pooling in my shoe—"

Grimacing, Kuroo presses the water bottle to the side of his face. The chill of the bottle seeps into his skin, an immediate comfort. He rolls it up his cheek, trying to sap out every degree of chilliness. Beads of condensation run down his face and he can feel it evaporating right off of his skin. "Wanna try camping out in a konbini until it gets cooler?"

"Nah, man, we're already so close to your place," Bokuto says, though he looks like he'd rather do nothing but exactly that. What an absolute trooper. "It's only gonna get hotter the longer we wait, right? Unless we stay till night, which like, defeats the whole purpose."

Kuroo, however, is not as strong willed as Bokuto. If he wasn't here, Kuroo would stop at every damn store to keep from being outside for longer than thirty seconds. But he is here. So he resigns himself to Bokuto's reasoning.

It is going to be a long walk.

Almost twenty-five minutes later and six stops for breathers along the way, they spill into his house, practically falling over each other once the door gives way. Near immediately Bokuto slings his bag onto the floor, punts his shoes off, but hesitates when he grabs the hem of his shirt. "Is your mom home?" he asks meekly.

Kuroo makes a face at his shoelaces, boggled. "What? I don't think she is."

"Cool." And in one fluid motion, his shirt comes flying off. He lets out a long yell that audibly comes from deep within his gut. "Aaaaugh! It's HOOOT!" Dragging his feet and his shirt, Bokuto moves sluggishly further into the house, specifically towards the kitchen. There's a loud thump and then what sounds like a body slumping onto the floor. Then a long wail. Slowly, it tapers, until it is no more.

Peering around the corner Kuroo finds that Bokuto had clipped his hip on the kitchen counter and unfortunately has passed away. He nudges the body with his foot when he passes. The body stiffens. "You alright there?"

With his face squished against the floor it's a little impossible to truly understand what is said, but Bokuto probably says: "I think this floor might be the best thing I've ever felt."

Snorting, he jabs his foot into Bokuto's side just to be an asshole. Tugging open the fridge door, he almost collapses against it, more than willing to just sit here and soak the chill in. He allows himself to be selfish for four seconds. Four seconds seem so, so short, but if he allows any more than that, he may not move away, so he quickly acquires a cold bottle of water.

"Holy fuck." Suddenly Bokuto's voice sounds a helluva lot clearer. He's peeled himself from the floor, now resting on his forearms, eyes pinpointed on the fridge like he's a predator locked on prey. "That feels fucking awesome."

"What, the breeze?" Kuroo jokes. Moves to close the fridge door.

Almost like a crazed animal, Bokuto scuttles— there just ain't another word to describe it— across the floor, planting himself directly in front of the fridges contents to purposefully prevent the door from being closed. Immediately, he sags, sighing, blissful.

A little befuddled, Kuroo laughs, bubbling. Bokuto's entire thigh is resting on his foot. "Dude?"

Bokuto simply reaches over and pats the spot next to him.

Kuroo's a simple man. Really. He allows himself a delegated amount of time to be selfish to be polite, to not be greedy. But this is an invite. So he goes. Sinking to his ass, he scoots closer and closer till his shoulder aligns beside Bokuto's and the edge of the door.

They probably look like idiots. They most definitely look like idiots. Both of them are sitting in front of the fridge's open door like they're starving, but instead of food, its the sweet bliss of chilly air. Sitting too close to each other to be even slightly comfortable, especially with how sweaty they are, but it's physically impossible to move from the sweet, sweet cold air.

Bokuto's right, though. It feels fucking awesome.

"My mom will kill us if we keep doing this," Kuroo says airly. Simply saying it to say it. With no conviction he grabs the door handle as if to close it, but with both of their bodies in the way, it doesn't go further than pressing into his own thigh. He slumps against it instead.

Bokuto hums. He looks one step away from crawling straight into the fridge, the shelves and food be damned. Anything to lower his body temperature.

Neither of them move.

As much as Kuroo himself would love to stay here, now that he's actually mentioned his mother he's very aware that she will commit murder if she sees this. It takes nearly all of his perseverance to roll out of the fridge's way, now slumping against it so it would close. Unmoving, Bokuto only grunts when it hits him. Kuroo leans harder. No budge.

"Bro."

"Dude."

Kuroo presses his cheek against the door edge. It's blissfully cold. The sunburn on his cheeks feels like it's healing right up. "C'mon. You gotta move. I do not have the power to stop my mom."

Every single muscle in Bokuto's arms and back visibly tense up. It's been a track record recently, how much he's seen Bokuto shirtless. What, is he becoming the new Karasuno's Number 5? Allergic-to-wearing-shirts? "I can't. It's too nice," he near whispers, strained, like he's caught between a horrible detrimental decision of life and death.

Unyielding, Kuroo puts the rest of his weight on the door. The vegetable compartment digs into Bokuto's side. "Just close me in the fridge," Bokuto begs, sagging forwards.

"No can do," he says. If it were an option he'd do it himself, but if his gangly limbs won't fit, Bokuto's beefy ones sure as hell won't. He puts his hands on Bokuto's shoulders and pushes. With minimum force, he falls right over.

"Auuugh, Tetsuuu!" he anguishes. Squirms like he's fight back to stop him, but is simply shoved out of the way. Like he's damming off the river of life, Kuroo closes the fridge door. Bokuto's very close to crying.

Heat lays heavy once the fridge air is used up. Bokuto has not moved, staring so longingly at the fridge. Not even blinking whenever Kuroo nudges him.

It is not looking good for their beach trip. The thought pulls at his guts, pulling them down to his feet. If such a short walk stretched into twenty-five minutes, he's got no clue how long it'll take for them to get to the station. And once they're there—

Thinking about the train cars makes him feel a certain kind of dread. He nearly didn't make it outside for ten minutes. To be in a metal death trap with tons of other people, for maybe two hours... they'd emerge as goo. Could they even make it to the next station without completely melting into the seats? The station might even be shut down. He hasn't even checked.

But it's just Tokyo, too— It's literally perfect at the beaches outside of Tokyo. Lovely temperatures, breezy days. Once they're outside of Tokyo, it's paradise.

Getting there's half the story.

"We're probably gonna have to raincheck for tomorrow, Bo," Kuroo says, knocking his head against the wall. Slouching, he inches down the wall, probably leaving a trail of sweat. Kinda disgusting. He honestly doesn't do anything to keep himself upright. Doesn't feel like he should.

For the second time, he's pushing this trip off, even though he knows how much Bokuto's prepared for it. Hell, he even went ahead and bought beach towels. (They were animal themed, too. Cats and Owls. They were so cute, Kuroo literally felt his heart squeeze when Bokuto showed him.)

Something doesn't quite wilt about Bokuto, but he slackens, sloping. "Okay," he says simply, pouting, and that's it. Kuroo waits for the refutal, the 'it's not thaaat bad outside!', the 'we can power through it!' He waits. Waits.

There is none.

Kuroo's stomach flips strangely, a weird dread in his gut, so he pulls himself upright to quell it.

"Hey," he says, quickly thinking of something, anything, to get that look off of Bokuto's face. With a curious expression, Bokuto rests his cheek atop his knee, waiting patiently. It's very cute of him. Kuroo distinctly pushes that thought aside and grins instead. "How does a water balloon fight sound to you?"

—

Practice is cancelled. Kuroo thanks every god under the sun. Someone would have died from practice if it were to happen— it'd probably be Lev, from either because he's got the heat tolerance of an ice cube or from Yaku's rage. Who knows.

However, during the time he would've been at practice, he finds he has absolutely nothing to do.

At this rate he might just fuse into the couch. His skin's already sticking, so it might as well just blend together. He can't practice volleyball, he might roast if he does it outside or break shit if he does it inside. The TV has nothing interesting on. He doesn't have school work he needs to catch up on. What is he even meant to do?

Audibly his skin tears from the couch when he rolls off. It doesn't hurt, but christ, the noise— he winces. In a haze, he moves to the kitchen, now hungry since he has nothing else to do.

When he opens the fridge with a grand swing, it's sad how hard it is to not crawl it. The popsicle box in the freezer is pathetically empty. Cursing the past him for leaving the fucking empty box like some kind of asshole, getting his hopes up, motherfucker, he plucks it from the shelf and chucks in the trash. After he's relished in the ice crystals on it, of course.

He rests his forehead against the fridge door.

Ahh. He wants some watermelon.

One-hundred percent on a whim, he goes to the store.

(It might not have been his smartest idea, bogged by exhaustion and heat, but he makes it. Somehow.)

"Welcome," the cashier calls from somewhere in the store. Politely she does not say a thing when he takes a whole ten minutes just standing at the freezer section to cool down. She also does not say a thing about how he should definitely not be outside at the height of day.

It's dead silent aside from the whirring of the plug-in fan at the counter and the cicadas outside. No one else is out and about. Usually, he can hear the chatter of the road outside, the screeches of children playing by the river. It's quiet. A damn ghost town outside. Is he in the Matrix? He's in the Matrix.

Maybe the heat's finally turning his brain to goo. He stands in front of the watermelon section for seven minutes before he realizes he's not actually in front of the watermelons, they're broccoli. He shuffles further down. Ah. There they are. Visibly there's no damn difference between the watermelons, but he still stands there and just looks at them, eying the textures. He gets a whole watermelon.

"Everything alright, Tetsurou-kun?"

He honest to god jumps, three inches off the ground and heart almost outta his throat. The watermelon in his hands literally shoots into the air and he scrambles to catch it. It's embarrassingly hard for him to catch it again. Volleyball player, who?

(Distantly, somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears a snort and a 'just like a cat!')

"Oh my, I didn't mean to scare you that bad!" Patting him heavy on the arm, it's the store clerk lady, portly and friendly. He did not realize he already made it to the counter. Jesus, he needs to clear his head. She seems more amused than worried about his whole struggle. "You feelin' alright?"

"Ah, yeah, don't worry about it, I'm just," he lets his eye wander, absently trying to fish for the right word, "out of it. The heat's getting to me, I think." Is he dehydrated? Aw, fuck. He's probably dehydrated, edging on delirious. Isn't this exactly why there's warning about going outside.

Humming, she says, "Go grab a water bottle, Tetsurou-kun, it's on me." It's the Adult Voice that leaves No Room for Refusal. Dutifully he grabs a water bottle from the freezer. She gives him a Stare until he realizes he should actually drink it in front of her. "I haven't see you here without Koutarou-kun in ages," the lady in the lieu of conversation, idly. Unknowingly, Kuroo locks up at the joints.

"Yeah," he says almost mechanically. Grins to loosen up. "It's strange to be here without Bo. Didn't want to bother him just to come with me to get just watermelon, y'know?" The last time he saw Bokuto was maybe a week ago. It's been very, very quiet without him.

"I'm sure he wouldn't have minded! That dear's too nice for his own good," waving her hand dismissively, she scans the lone watermelon he puts onto the counter.

He really is, Kuroo thinks absently. It's exactly why he didn't ask.

"The heat's always a little bit more tolerable when there's someone else with you," she continues, strangely profound, right over his absentmindedness. It makes him think of the walk he's got ahead of him to get home. Jarringly long, though it's barely that far away. Last time he walked back from here to his house was with Bokuto. They stopped at every place they passed, exhausted, but it was bearable. Fun, even.

"It is," he agrees. He looks outside while she bags the watermelon.

Outside, the city melts.

—

[Bokuto 3:56 P.M.] m guessin no beach this week either ?

[Kuroo 4:01 P.M.] don't think so : ( temps just hit highest ever recorded for tokyo jfc

[Bokuto 4:01 P.M.] WHAT didnt think it could even GET hotter here what !!

[Kuroo 4:01 P.M.] the beach might be boilin dude will there even be a beach left for us to go to....

[Bokuto 4:02 P.M.] DONT JINX IT!!!!!

—

"...despite the cold front that was meant to come, the temperatures are still astronomical. Tokyo is currently under Japan's hottest heatwave in all its history," drones the weatherman, who's looking at the broadcasted with a masked dread. "Everyone, stay inside until this heatwave passes. If you have to be outside, wear loose clothes and stay as hydrated as possible. Avoid staying outside for too long, especially if you are eldery—"

Kuroo peels his shirt off his back, uncomfortably damp with sweat. The weatherman isn't saying it, but it's clear as day on screen— the cold front didn't redirect, or gradually vanish. The blue lines are sweeping over Tokyo. The cold front is here.

Yet the temperatures haven't dropped. They haven't touched 30 degrees in weeks. Just in the past few days it's finally passed 40s and it's stillincreasing. At some point they might as well call a state of emergency for the city of Tokyo, if not the entire prefecture. There's never been a heatwave like this before.

Scrunching his nose, Kuroo gazes towards his open window. The sky is a pristine blue, completely cloudless. The sun leers in the sky just beyond the window frame, like an angry eye.

If it's only going to get hotter, he thinks fleetingly, then this could technically be called the cold front.

The thought feels like a resignation. Not groundbreaking, earth-shattering. He slumps back, head hitting the edge of the couch. Every scheduled event in Tokyo has already been postponed or cancelled altogether for the overhanging threat of heat exhaustion and heat stroke. He's got the itching feeling that public transports going to roll to a stop, and, eventually, everything else. How can you even stop a city like Tokyo?

If it gets hotter, what can they even do? Leave? Will everyone in Tokyo be evacuated, relocated?

The image makes his chest churn. He reaches for the remote and changes the channel.

—

Days pass. The temperature increases by three more degrees. It's catastrophic.

So, faced with an indiscernible future and nothing to do, he does what he does best.

He goes to Kenma's.

"Cars are overheating the second they turn on and it's practically dangerous to walk around, even to public transport, which just are functionally giant ovens now. What the hell are we meant to do?" Kuroo drawls, knocking his head against the bed frame, fanning himself with a roll of magazines as a substitute for a paper fan. The walk here didn't last longer than two minutes, but its under direct sun. The back of his neck feels like it's fried. He's gotten smarter about it, though, and brought an obscene amount of water for the walk. The bottle sits half empty next to his thigh.

Kenma looks... miserably resigned, maybe, like this is inevitable. His hair is permanently stringy from sweat, pulled back into the worlds shittiest and smallest pony tail to keep it from hanging in front of his face. A wet rag is draped around his neck, too— he minutely pats the sides of his face with it. Out of everything, the heat has yet to pry his console from his fingers.

"Melt." After a couple of powerful button punches, he glances to him. "If it becomes a national emergency maybe they'll send helicopters." He looks up in thought though his thumbs still fly across the console. "Helicopters can overheat, right?"

"Definitely." Once his arm grows tired, Kuroo lays the magazines over his face. The coated paper is slightly cool. Truthfully, it takes every ounce of his dignity to keep from smushing it into his face right now. "I'm a little insulted it's not a national emergency yet. Do people need to start dropping like flies for the government to consider doing anything?"

"Trick question. The situation needs to be unsalvageable before those in power takes notice. So. Maybe after a few hundred die and the city's on fire. Or until it wrecks some important business man's company."

Kuroo's eyebrows raise. Lolls his head back until he's looking at him upside down from beneath the magazines. "Heavy stuff, Kozume."

A victorious 8-bit jingle erupts from the switch in Kenma's hands. His eyes are sharp when he glances from over the top of it. "Lev may have been right for once, honestly— don't tell him I said that. I'll know if you do. But we could possibly be in this mess all because some rich man was thinking about how to increase production in some unethical way. We could feasibly be in a miniature greenhouse-dome if some factories let out some kind of advanced pollution all for the gains of a single man."

"I don't think there's a kind of pollution out there that can do something like that, especially to this magnitude— and to be so undetected prior? It just can't happen," Kuroo points out, motioning with the magazines, "and if anything, I don't think something that corrupt would happen here first. I'd maybe believe it if it first showed up in America."

"Doesn't matter where, the rich are to never be trusted."

"I'm going to pester you about this conservation if you become wealthy."

"If I become wealthy enough to actually have an impact on the carbon footprint, I'd want you to snipe me."

"Kenma!" Kuroo smacks his leg, scandalized. "Are you just moody because of the weather?"

Blatantly he is ignored. "Either way, you're right. This whole situation should be impossible. Even climate change couldn't just do this. There would've been some obvious kind of... sign, maybe."

"Even with a sign, it doesn't make sense that its thirty degrees in Chiba, yet it's almost fifty here." Begrudgingly, he pulls himself upright, tossing the magazines to the side. "It's only Tokyo! Just us! If it's not climate change, then what else could it be?"

Kenma shrugs, half invested. "Maybe this is how we're repenting."

Kuroo sneers. "Like this is happening because of some god? Of course you would think that, you've only been playing Fire Emblem recently..."

Raising an eyebrow, Kenma very pointedly does not look at him, focused on the game. Which is Fire Emblem. Go figure. "Well? Do you have a better explanation? Even Fukunaga said it's supernatural. That makes more sense than a selective global warming."

He slumps against the bed frame again, feeling a crick grow in his lower spine. The supernatural. He'd like to call bullshit, but at this point, what else would make sense? But— what would it be? He's not exactly religious, so he sure as hell doesn't know what kind of Shinto god has capabilities like this. Maybe some street-side shrine's god? Maybe not even that... Maybe something with its already established god-like statue?

A statue...

A snort bubbles in his throat. He has to stamp it down before he can start full-out cackling, but it still trickles out when he speaks. "Tammy would do it, that bastard— the amusement park's mascot statue. I told you about that thing, right? Suspicious as hell. If supernatural were real, that would have its own conscious."

He doesn't need to look to know that Kenma's face is twisting up in a scowl. "Tammy Tanuki. You think Tammy Tanuki would smite all of Tokyo."

"Y'know what, it's possible!" Kuroo sits up straight again, pressing his hands on his lower back to pop it. "Bo 'n I did throw coins at it! Ain't that disrespectful? Hah, imagine that! A silly amusement park statue saying fuck you to all of us because Bo landed a sick trick on it." He grins, recalling the catch of breath, holding, watching as that final coin soared through the air. That video he took was incredible, too. Two hooligans screeching, the video inconceivably blurry as they celebrated. It's almost like those bottle-flipping videos, but cooler! He should posted that to some other social media rather than just his instagram.

He wonders how Bokuto's fairing. Is he still taking care of Petunia, even in this sweltering heat? Is he putting enough sunscreen on if he does go outside?

It's... been a while since he's seen him.

A toe jabs right into the soft part of his neck abruptly. "I did not let you come over so you could mope and pine."

Jolting, Kuroo twists around, batting at Kenma's foot. "What? I am not pining. Or moping. Where the hell did you get that from?"

Kenma glances at him for a long moment,. "You're denying it."

"Of course I would, because I'm not?" "Then why would you bring up the amusement park? Sounds like pining to me."

Appalled, Kuroo sputters, "Pining for Tammy Tanuki? That thing appears in my dreams sometimes to haunt me, I'd be insane to pine for it. I literally just called it a bastard, too! Is your brain turning to mush?"

The look Kenma gives him makes him look like he's aged fifteen years in two seconds. It's the bone-deep-exasperation look he usually has around Lev, so, to say the least, he's a little hurt it's being used on him. "Kuro," he says, not even trying to school his expression into something more neutral, the asshole, "sometimes, I realize how much of a miracle it is you're academically smart, 'cause you're not smart otherwise."

"What?! Kenma—"

"Are you purposely being stupid?" Kenma sets down his switch in a way that's both gentle and irritated. From the quick glimpse, the screen's off. Instinctively Kuroo tenses. "I saw that wistful look on your face. You weren't thinking about the damn tanuki statue. You were thinking about Bokuto, weren't you?"

It sounds like an accusation. It sits heavily in the base of his gut. "I was, but why—?"

"Do I really need to spell it out?"

Kuroo's mouth is drier than it has been all week, all month. He tries to grin, tries to have some semblance of control, but its wobbly. "You might need to, because I'm not catching your drift."

Something glances across Kenma's face, but it's gone as soon as it shows. "You're pining over Bokuto, Kuro. Why else would you think about the amusement park? Don't give me the bullshit that it's Tammy Tanuki."

His heart misses a couple of beats.

"I— actually was thinking about Tammy first, though—?" he scrambles, because he's lost all purchase, Kenma's swiping out from beneath his feet—

"I don't care about that," Kenma scowls, "Even if you were, you still are pining over Bokuto. You literally just sat here, in my room, talking about Bokuto looking like a nut job in public, with some kind of lovestruck grin on your face. The audacity."

Kuroo's reeling. Mentally, physically, spiritually— he feels like he just got hit by a truck six times over. One second, he's thinking about how, hah-hah, maybe it's that stupid tanuki statue that caused a miniature global warming that scales the Tokyo prefecture, how funny would that be, and then, he's being told he's— he's in love? How the hell is he meant to recover from this? What the fuck? What the fuck?

A look settles on Kenma's face, some kind of expression that feels too soft. The turmoil is probably visible on his own. "We're going to melt to death eventually, you gotta say something."

"There's nothing to say!" Distraught, Kuroo turns away. His neck is more than just hot. He's burning. It makes sense. Does it? Is he in love with— Shit, it's, he's burning up hotter than it is outside, he's going to actually fucking scorch—

Chest tight, he tries focusing on outside because he's going to combust if he thinks of anything else. Blue sky, cloudless, shriveling trees, heat rising from the pavement—

Flashing in his head, the sun shining through the dotted clouds in the sky, coins glittering as they streaked through the air, striking like a gong, boisterous laughter—

Even if it may have possibly been that single moment that caused all of this, he wouldn't trade it for the world. Even if he angered some silly statue, chain-reaction causing a heatwave so violent there may be no recovery, he wouldn't.

The cicadas drone outside, so, so loud. He can feel the heat seeping in from outside, rolling in like a heavy wave from the windows. It trickles up his back, like sweat running backwards, and he. He.

He...

He stands abruptly, startling Kenma. For a moment he just stands and stares at nothing, thoughts lethargic but churning, churning in his head and oh my god.

"Kuro?" Kenma says somewhere, distantly, though he's just inches away. It feels like fuzz in his ears. Gauze. Cotton.

"I," Kuroo breathes, stumbling, "I, uhm. I have to... go." He turns, almost lurching, towards the door. He can't believe it. He can't believe it.

He's not thinking straight in the slightest, he realizes, as he slips his shoes on with a single shove. He's had his whole way of thinking just torn apart and reconstructed in the last two minutes, and, and what the hell is he doing. Plowing past the door, he staggers, it's like stepping into a brick wall of hot. It only stills him for a moment, but he keeps going, he may just disintegrate if he stops. There's clatter behind him and he thinks it's Kenma— if he can even move fast enough— and he makes it to the end of the yard before something nails him in the spine.

"Fuck—!" Kuroo shrieks, hands flying to his back. The point of impact on his back is strangely chilly, and he turns to see a cold water bottle sitting idly on the pavement.

"Are you an idiot?" Kuroo jerks, looking up, and there's Kenma at the doorway of his house, looking more frazzled than he has in hours— no, days. Even the agitation of the prior conversation holds no candle to the expression Kenma's got on his face now. Hand braced against the door frame, he looks like he's physically repulsed from stepping outside, but one step from lurching out and tearing Kuroo's head off his shoulders. Completely sapped of energy, too, just from the movement. "Huh? Did your brain melt out of your ears? Did it?"

Personally, he thinks this kind of assault is uncalled for. He's already been attacked not even minutes ago, come on. Sputtering, Kuroo bends to snatch the bottle from the ground. The condensation from the bottle evaporates almost immediately from the pavement. "Hey—"

"I don't know what you just thought of that was sooo urgent," Kenma bites, knuckles growing white as his agitation rises, "but did you really think you could last even a minute out here without water? Without an umbrella? Huh? We just talked about cars overheating, what the hell makes you think you can just sprint out here!"

He freezes. The heat weighs down on him, horribly overwhelming. He can feel his skin sizzling under the sun. Thinks he can hear it, too. "I..."

What the hell is he doing? Running from Kenma and his horrible confrontations? Running to Tammy Tanuki, maybe, to reconcile, beg forgiveness, please-return-the-temperatures-to-normal?

Running to Bokuto?

Kenma doesn't even give him the chance to gather his thoughts. "I don't care, it's hot." He reaches somewhere behind the door, grabbing for something— and Kuroo only has the briefest moment to catch the umbrella that's lobbed at him. Kenma points threateningly, "Whatever it is, get on with it, but be safe, you idiot, go get more water. Tell me about it later. Get out of the sun. Go before that water bottle becomes lukewarm."

Kuroo's mouth snaps shut. He nods, because that's all he can do, and turns heel and goes.

—

"How willing are you to do something that's dubiously illegal with me?" Kuroo blurts, words falling out of his mouth as he clutches himself upright on the door frame. Seconds pass and he's very, very hypersensitive of every single drop of sweat on him currently, rolling and dripping straight off him and onto the welcome mat below.

All Bokuto can really do is gape. His hair's loose of gel yet pinned back by a bright yellow clip, though stubborn strands still hang against his forehead. It looks unbelievably soft. The sleeveless shirt he's got on settles awkwardly along his neck, like he's been pulling at it to air it out, absolutely drenched in sweat. There's a spot of blue near the corner of his mouth that he can only assume is from an ice pop he may have had a while ago.

God. Even like this he is an absolute sight for sore eyes. It's been how long since he's last seen him? Two weeks? Three? Even with the recent revelations, he's. He's just glad to see him again.

Bokuto's mouth opens and closes three separate times before he settles on: "Can I even ask what dubious means?"

"I'm sure you get the context clues," Kuroo says, not quite snappish. Is he meant to repeat himself in this situation? Bokuto heard him loud and clear, yet, yet he's not saying anything. He fiddles with the umbrella nervously, unsure of how to keep going. It's unintentional, but his absent motions drags Bokuto's attention to it.

Bokuto glances past him, to where the heat rising from the pavement is visible, the browning foliage, and then back, a distraught look twisting on his face. "Jesus, Tetsu, did you— did you walk in this? How in the hell—"

"I've got an idea," he cuts off, leaning in as if it's a secret, "I think I know it! What started all of this shit— the catalyst."

"The huh?" Bokuto echoes, looking more and more confused with each passing second. The furrow in his eyebrow disturbs the sweat resting upon his forehead and slide down his temples. He's looking at Kuroo like he's lost his mind. Well— who wouldn't?

This. This is really not how Kuroo had hoped this would go. He's not exactly sure how this was gonna go, but this— this is not it.

"It was Tammy Tanuki," he plows on before he can lose face. Runs a hand through his bangs to slick them back but they just flop back over his forehead in a gross greasy mass. The empty water bottle in his hand crinkles with the motion. "We— It— Whenever we went to the park, I think it was throwing the coins at the statue. This all started after that day, didn't it? Right? The heatwave?"

Bokuto just looks completely lost at what to even think. "The heatwave? Tammy caused the heatwave?"

"Well— no, not—" he stumbles on his words, choking in his chest, "Christ, I dunno. Maybe? Remember— remember what I said about the coins, and if you landed them in a place they weren't meant to be, it'd piss Tammy off? I was totally bullshitting you, but, but I dunno, it— it's possible. With how fucked up this whole situation is, Tammy being behind all of it honestly could make some kinda sense. So maybe, if we were to, I dunno, get the coin off from Tammy's nose, then maybe? We'd be forgiven? If it's Tammy at all causing this heatwave..."

Once the words finish spilling from his mouth, he has to bite down on his lip to keep from rambling and sounding more like an idiot than he already is. Kuroo swallows thickly, running the back of his wrist under his chin.

God. This is all so fucking ridiculous, but— but this is all he's got. It's silly to think all of this rests on the shoulders of two stupid teenage boys who were just goofing off but. But...

Bokuto scrunches his nose, narrows his eyes. "I knew Tammy was fuckin' suspicious."

Kuroo, if he were a little more exhausted than he already is, could have cried right here and right now. Instead he just folds over and lets out probably the loudest laugh of his life.

—

"This is very illegal." Bokuto's voice almost wavers as he watches Kuroo vault over the fence. He isn't super successful, slick with an ungodly amount of sunscreen, doesn't land very gracefully, but hey, he's over.

"Dubiously illegal," Kuroo corrects, curses, flapping his hand from the sting of the hot metal. Any longer, and his skin might've been seared right off. The sun, hanging above their heads, is fucking vile. He can feel the heat rising from the pavement and it's scorching his damn legs. Doesn't help that the two of them just walked an abysmal distance in this goddamn heat, stopping every five minutes to rest and refresh and AUGH, his legs are already tired—

"I still don't know what that means," he whines, fidgeting. "Akaashi would kill both of us if he knew we were doing this. Without a doubt. I think I can hear him on his way over to come knock our heads off."

"All the more reason we should just hurry in," Kuroo reaches over the fence, motioning for the umbrella. "He wouldn't break in just to scold us, right? So if we're in, he wouldn't be able to kill us just yet."

"Yeah, but..." he passes the umbrella and grabs hold of the bars, wincing. While his climb over is awkwardly clunky, he does manage to land on his feet unlike Kuroo who nearly landed on his face. Once he lets go of the bars, he lets out a howl of pain, planting his hands on his thighs, then grumbles again when his hands burn the skin. "It's the yet! 'Kaashi would be waiting for us by the time we get out! We'll be trapped in here until the actual police come and get us! He might spare me, but I think he might actually beat you up, Tetsu."

"What! Why me?" He slips to Bokuto's side, putting both of them shoulder to shoulder to stay in the umbrella's shade. He's painfully aware Akaashi thinks he's a pain-in-the-ass, but damn, to actually be clobbered? Akaashi doesn't exactly look the beefiest, not like Bokuto, but regardless he's still an athlete. If he's unhinged, Kuroo's life might actually be in danger.

Bokuto doesn't really meet his eye when he shrugs. Weirdly enough, he gets the idea.

"I mean, you did just drag me along to commit a crime..."

"It's not a crime if no one finds out!"

With almost too much force, Bokuto nudges him with his shoulder, bubbling with laughter. Kuroo tries to save face but totally ends up stumbling almost completely face first onto the pavement. "Man, you're meant to be the more reasonable out of the two of us! How am I meant to argue with that?"

He's missed it. God, he's missed it.

Belatedly, he realizes just how quiet it is out here when Bokuto's impossibly loud laugh echoes through the park. He hears the tail end of it once, twice, then it's gone, and the dead silence of the air takes its place.

It's very strange to walk through the park when it's completely empty. There's no hum of rollercoasters, no jeers of children, no peppy tinny background music blaring over the speakers. Even stranger, their conversation tapered off almost immediately, and Kuroo's not sure if it's because it's too hot to talk, or there's a reason his hearts fluttering somewhere in his throat.

The path to the pond is not long. Now cleared of the usual human traffic and their brisk pace (the pavement's hot as hell, shit), they stand at the fence to the pond in minutes flat. The pond's half full— no, not even— probably a quarter full, most of its evaporated out by this point. The special theatrical arcs of water are no longer running, though the gleaming of coins beneath the statue light it up in its own kind of horrible theatrics.

Tammy looks strangely lonely out in the middle of the pond. Maybe, also, like a caged beast.

Peering from the corner of his eye, he sees Bokuto's just staring out to Tammy. There's a challenging look in his eye and it starkly reminds him of the first time they stood here, armed with coins and the air twenty degrees cooler. He bites his tongue.

"Well," he starts, inhaling deeply.

"All we gotta do is just find those coins, right?" Bokuto says clearly like it's nearly the easiest thing in the world, the single answer to all the problems. He grins to Kuroo, and honestly, maybe he's right. Anything is possible, especially with this kind of attitude, especially with Bokuto by his side. "No need to waste time standing around!" he hollers, his voice echoing, echoing. Without any warning, he swings his leg over the short fence, and begins his descent.

Blistering hot. It's abysmal. Jesus fuck, how the hell is the water not boiling yet. Kuroo breathes in deeply, steels his nerves. Even with his shoes still on— the dark polyester of the pond bottom looks like it will sear his foot right off— nothing will be able to sooth this scalding. He's glad the water only reaches his calfs. Any higher and he may just wimp out.

Water had seemed so kind, a sanction in this hell, he almost dreamed about wading in it— but this is horrible.

Splash.

"Holy fuck!"

Kuroo turns— Bokuto's hopping foot to foot, wincing 'hot! hot!' with every step. Probably seconds away from lunging back out of the water. "How the hell are you not— not dying?" Bokuto cries, eyes squished tight as he rises an inch, on his tippy toes.

"It's the perk of already being hot," Kuroo winks, and grimaces. "That was awful. Sorry. I am trying really hard not to yell right now. It's not all that different from a jacuzzi, right? Just. A couple degrees hotter."

"Tetsu," Bokuto says warily, frowning as he trudges behind, umbrella up and opened in his hand, "Are— Are you sure about this? Man, I can't tell your mom that I willingly let you roast like a turkey in a big ole pond—"

"You're roasting with me, how would you even tell my mom?" He retorts automatically. Then, momentarily, he bites his tongue, hesitating.

He's... He's really just dragging Bokuto out here, isn't he? Making him walk with him in near catastrophic temperatures, where plants have shriveled and traffic cones have melted— All under the pretense of 'just trust me'? If Bokuto had shown up at his house, telling him to come cross the city in this sweltering heat, he—

...what would he have done?

"You... don't have to do this with me," he says belatedly as he slows to a stop. The words sit awkward in his tongue, regretful, "I know this kinda sucks— er, really sucks— so you... don't have to."

Bokuto blinks at him owlishly, pausing. Fear builds up in his throat, and momentarily, he thinks Bokuto might actually take the offer and leave. He's been talking about how dangerous it is to be out here, how risky it is. Of course he doesn't want to be here. What the hell was he thinking? Kuroo would honestly not be surprised if he left at this point.

He's not sure he'd be able to convince himself to stay out here without Bokuto by his side.

"Well!" he puffs up, finally reaching Kuroo and covering him in the red-tinted shade of the umbrella, "I can't let you roast out here alone! Plus, if what you're sayin' is right, it is kinda also my fault that this whole heatwave shit happened. So I'm here!"

In the red coloring cast, the pink of Bokuto's sun burn almost looks like blush.

Kuroo doesn't get a chance to stare longer when Bokuto swivels to look at him, somehow beaming in this temperature. "Besides, who else would hold up the umbrella?"

Groaning, Kuroo shoves him but he's grinning, grinning so wide. His stomach's all warm and he knows it's not just the weather causing it. "Letting me do all the grunt work, huh! I see what's going on!"

"I mean, you did say that you're resilient to heat because you're already hot!" he counters, cheeky. Kuroo gasps.

"I can't believe you! Using my own words against me—! Where the hell did you learn the word resilient?"

He glitters. "I knew that one myself!"

Once again, the imposing figure of Tammy Tanuki towers over them. Looming more and more as they approach. Christ, it's bigger up close than he thought. Tammy's just eerie now, with the lack of theatrics and children's laughter in the distance, with hard shadows casted across its face from the sun's harsh angle.

The two of them are so tiny compared to it, it's almost like two unbelievers standing before an angry god. Once that image crosses Kuroo's mind, he really has to bite down to keep from snorting.

The umbrella tips back, too far back, and the unyielding sun nearly blinds him. "Bo, man, what—" he sputters, throwing his hands up to at least save his eyes.

"It's not there!" Bokuto blurts, boggled. He quickly readjusts the umbrella, but his eyes don't stray from the tanuki's face. Kuroo follows, perplexed, and—

The coin's no longer balanced on the stubby nose.

It feels like a joke. He waits and waits but the coin does not reappear, does not come out of hiding. He quickly skims the entire structure for— for anywhere it could've landed, if it was knocked off by the wind or something, but there's nothing except the water below.

Kuroo clicks his tongue, stomach plummeting. "Well. Shit. That just made things harder."

"I... I can't believe it..." mourning, Bokuto trudges closer to the statue, stopping right where it starts becoming a mine-field of scorching hot coins. His eyes don't leave the tanuki's nose once, like he's desperately watching, waiting for it to reappear. "My... my sick trick... my trick shot... gone..."

For a painstakingly long moment, Kuroo feels like it's all in vain. It takes an even longer moment to even think of something positive about this situation. Something that isn't... well. Making this a waste of time. "Well," Kuroo starts, trickling, coming up with it as he goes. Slaps a hand on Bokuto's shoulder blade to perk him up, maybe. "I was worried that one of us was gonna have to climb Tammy. That woulda caused more damage than breaking in. Just another charge to add on if we're caught. It's gotta be around the statue somewhere."

Unbelieving, Bokuto motions to the coins scattered around the statue. "But— there's a billion coins over here! There's no way we'll find the one you gave me!"

His feet already ache just thinking about how long he's gonna be standing in this water, ankles scalding from boiling water. Who in their right minds started the whole tradition of throwing coins in ponds for good luck? He's going to throttle whoever it was. Asshole. "Ain't no one else gonna be throwing a five-hundred yen into here but us. And even if there are others five-hundreds, then ours would be the one closest to the statue, right? Since it was probably knocked off by the wind?"

Bokuto halts so suddenly Kuroo thinks he can hear the whiplash. "You gave me a five-hundred yen to throw?" Suddenly Bokuto's wide, earnest eyes are pinned on him. It's a bit much. He leans towards Kuroo, pressing, peering at him even when he turns away. "You— Did you believe I could make it that much? You betted that much on me?"

"I didn't have any other change!" he flushes, "I mean, I knew if you had an unlimited amount of coins you would've made it at some point, and I thought what the hell—" He lengthens his stride, ducking from beneath the umbrella, just so Bokuto won't see how embarrassingly pink his face just got. However, his friend's an absolute hardhead, dearly stubborn, and easily matches his pace.

"Tetsuuu," he coos, nearly too gleeful with the information he's just obtained. "You did have faith in me! I can't believe it— you said I wouldn't make it, but all along—!!"

"Who's Bokuto Koutarou? I don't know who that is," Kuroo says loudly, mockingly, crouching down and quickly darting his hands in the water to scoop up coins. Fucking Owch— like he thought, the coins are scorching hot, even worse with the water. They clink almost musically as he rifles through them quickly. None of the coins show the arcade's logo, none of them that dull brass. Grimacing, he puts them aside, plop plop plop into the water.

He knew, but this... This is going to take forever.

There's a shuffle beside him, and to his surprise Bokuto crouches down too, arm brushing against his shoulder. He dips his hand into the water and takes his pick, though he immediately drops them out of his palm whenever they start searing into it, wincing.

Kuroo pauses to raise an eyebrow. "I thought you were the designated umbrella-holder?"

Cheeks puff up in a pout, Bokuto tries again. "It's boring just standing here. I can't let you do all the work, y'know. I've got to find that five-hundred yen and treasure it, it's the symbol of your faith in me—"

"Oh god, no more," Kuroo whines, knocking his elbow into Bokuto's side. Somehow, Bokuto's unbalanced enough that the nudge is enough to nearly teeter him into the water, so he quickly latches onto Kuroo before he can truly eat shit.

"Bro, be merciful! I think I'll instantly boil if I fall in," he cries. His grip is tight on Kuroo's forearm, fingers digging into pink skin, burning slightly with the hot water.

"Not my fault you're all wobbly," Kuroo grins, though it's uneven itself, crooked and goopy. He's not sure if he's imagining it, not sure, but he swears Bokuto's hand lingers longer than it should, grip firm yet softening. He's looking too deeply into it. Fuck, Kenma put all of this shit into his head, 'liking' Bokuto, and it's, it's— it's making him more skittish, more jumpy. He's gonna see things that aren't there, now that his world's rearranged and slotted back into place. It's embarrassing, they're really close to each other, Bokuto's shoulder occasionally brushing his, his ears bright pink, his stupid, stupid—

God, he might love him.

He turns back to the coins, gently pulling his arm from Bokuto's hand. Like a fucking coward, he does not look back.

And, after a brief moment, though it seems much longer with how double-timed Kuroo's heart is beating, Bokuto resumes the motions as well.

It's hot. Even with the umbrella, even with the sunscreen, he feels like he's fucking melting, standing in this stupid pool of water, crouching, shuffling through hundreds of steaming hot coins in steaming hot water, looking for some silly arcade coins, for the silly five-hundred yen.

The sun now peeks between the trees along the skyline, which is the only way to tell they've been at this for more hours than necessary. Now that the sun isn't directly overhead, no longer boiling the water and scorching the skin, they've reduced to kneeling and the umbrella idles in the water, abandoned. The air, however, is still stagnant with heat. Fucking humidity. His shirt is soaking wet and he has barely even touched the water's surface with it.

Maybe it's been two hours, or four. He's got no goddamn clue. All he knows is that they've got seven of the nine arcade coins and no five-hundred yen. If it's been two hours, then that's at least three coins an hour average. So another hour, and hopefully, probably, he'd have them all. But if it's been four...

My brain's too mushed to think about this, he relents, rocking back on his heels to press his palms into his eyes. It's going to melt out of my ears. It's not even that hot anymore.

He presses his thumbs in harder until colors flicker across his vision. Who am I kidding. It's still hot. It's never not gonna be hot.

Behind him, there's the telltale plops of coins into the water. A dejected sigh. Kuroo's stomach folds in on itself, so he sticks his hand back into the water to distract himself.

They've been working in a silent tandem this whole, which is so unlike them it pulls at Kuroo's stomach. Not a peep from either one of them. No jests, no snickers, no roughhousing. At this point, he's not going to lose it because he's been sifting through hundreds of coins for hours on end, but from how much the silence is killing him.

He just— hopes things will turn back to how they were before, even if they manage to get all of the coins or not.

"Hey, Tetsu," Bokuto says absently, swirling his hand in the water rather than picking up more. Full-bodied, Kuroo jumps, but quickly tries to compose himself though his shoulders remain tense. He hums, not trusting his voice— it will warble, he knows. His fingers are pruny and no longer sting from the hot metal of the coins.

"Tetsu," Bokuto repeats. Finally he looks up, his eyes are trained to the water, glassy. The coins reflect the dying sunlight onto his face, the lights dancing with the water's movement. Kuroo's never seen him this still before.

"Hm?" he barely manages, the noise caught in his throat. If it didn't feel so off, he'd bask in this image of Bokuto, soft edges even rounder, a polite orange coloring his cheekbones.

The brief pause echoes a lot louder than it should, with the lack of, well... everything, around them. Bokuto takes in a breath. It's the most defeated sound he's ever heard come from him.

"We should probably just... go back."

Kuroo straightens up from his stooped crouch. Unexpected, is what he'd like to call it, but he's had the inkling sitting low in his chest this whole time. "Wh— We've nearly gotten all the arcade coins, and the yen's gotta be here somewhere!" When he presents his hand, where he's had the coins clutched, the arcade symbol's in red impressions on his palm. He sounds desperate. Fuck, he doesn't want to, but he is.

It's just— if they leave, he feels like it'll all be over.

"I mean—" ahh, he didn't notice— he didn't realize how aggravated Bokuto is about the prospect of giving up. Didn't catch the growing frustration in his movements. "It's just... we've cleared most of the pond already, and it's been a while since either of us found one, and I know I was just kidding about it earlier, but I think your mom's actually gonna call the police if we're here longer."

He wants to protest it, but honestly, who's he fooling? The yen was already gone from Tammy's nose. His whole theory was riding on the fact that it was resting up there. But it's gone. Not even there. And if it that was the whole catalyst, then what the hell are they doing out here?

Kuroo breathes in shallowly. Once, twice. Gathers his will. "Alright," he says, standing. Disrupting the stillness around him, the swish of water from his movement is jarringly loud— he didn't think he stood up that abruptly, but huh, maybe he did. Jesus, he needs to get himself under control."Okay. Yeah. We... We should go."

There's a complete lack of motion from Bokuto.

To keep from losing composure, Kuroo moves to retrieve the umbrella instead, which has idly drifted away. He reaches for the handle only to realize he's still got all seven coins clenched in his hand still. Still. Even subconsciously, he's still hoping. He breathes in deeply— in and in until he can't keep going— exhales.

He lets go of the coins unceremoniously. No need for them, really.

Just as the coins splish into the water, there's a strangled noise from behind him.

"Dude, you—!" blurting, Bokuto leaps to his feet. In a splash that soaks most of Kuroo, he dives straight into the water. Frantically he regathers all the coins Kuroo just dumped, breathing a sigh of relief when they're all in his palm.

Jarred, Kuroo just watches, startled into stillness. The water's lukewarm from where it clings onto his skin. "What are you—?"

As if they're precious to him, Bokuto pulls his hands closer to his chest, cupping the coins like they're delicate. "I mean— I meant!" Choked up. That's the only way he can describe the floundering Bokuto's doing, the thickness of his voice. "I didn't— actually mean give up. I meant for today! It's almost dark and I think we'll become prunes if we stay out here longer, so, we can just— come back tomorrow!"

He's never been this stupefied before, he thinks. Never been this bewildered, this boggled, this what-ever-synonyms-for-shocked-there-is. "Come back tomorrow?" he echoes dumbly, "W— Why? There's no reason to?"

"No reason too—?" Bokuto parrots, squawking, appalled. He sinks lower until he's just sitting in the water, growing more confused. "Dude, we didn't even get all of them yet! We have to get them all, don't we?"

"It's not even worth it to get them all." Admitting it out loud— he can't tell if it's a relief or not. It's a resignation, and it's pulling at his guts.

The furrow between Bokuto's eyebrows deepens and deepens.

"Everything I had was literally depending on the coin being there, though," Kuroo stresses, continuing, motioning abortedly towards the statue, "I— I thought Tammy was so pissed that you got the coin there, so once it was off, Tammy wouldn't have reason to cause a catastrophic heatwave! But it's gone, there's still a heat wave, and we've been sitting out here for hours for no reason."

"It's not just for no reason, Tetsu," Bokuto tries, but something's building in Kuroo's chest, clawing higher and higher until its in the top of his throat.

"It was," he croaks, shaking his head, "It was— ridiculous, I can't even believe—" He leans back, back, face tilted up towards the fading sky. "I went out a limb more than anything. Can you believe? I pulled this theory out of my ass since Kenma n' I were talkin' about this whole thing, and I used it as..." He swallows, swallows again, but there's nothing getting past the thickness in his throat. "... as a excuse to see ya."

Bokuto's dead silent in this moment. So still he might not be breathing.

"I'm," Kuroo pauses, almost wheezing, unsure, because Bokuto's not responding, he's not responding, how is he meant to take that? "I'm sorry I, I dragged you out here to roast with me, all for some, some stupid reason. I just. I panicked and..."

Condescendingly, Kenma's voice echoes in his head, 'We're going to melt to death eventually, you gotta say something.' Fuckin' Kenma. He wasn't ready to jump this hurdle yet. He wasn't ever gonna be ready. The words rest on the back of his tongue, refusing to come out or go back down, and he feels like he's gonna puke.

"Tetsurou," Bokuto starts after a beat. Unfaltering. "I'd go anywhere with you."

The world rocks. There's no excuse this time he could possibly come up with for how he flushes. How the hell does he sound so sure—

"I thought," his mouth forms words, but he doesn't say any of them, momentarily unsure. He's silent until he looks Kuroo straight in the eyes. "I thought I maybe fucked up somewhere— been to clingy, maybe freaked you out. 'Kaashi called me out sometimes, saying I was been too much. I dunno! I just like being around you, with you. I was really scared I scared you off."

"You'd. Never scare me off, Bo," Kuroo says, just above a whisper, because, because this sounds like something and he's very scared he might misinterpret.

Bokuto's eyes crease in a smile, dawning. "Sweet!" He says, loudly. It's loud enough it echoes, disrupts the silence that's settled over the park. He winces, sheepish. "Sweet," he tries again, quieter. "So, then, it wouldn't scare you off if I said I liked you?"

Like a blow to the face, Kuroo teeters, dropping into the water with a plop. The ripples wake against Bokuto's knees, making a small personal light show for the brightest thing in his life. "It wouldn't," he says, because christ, he's gonna melt out here. He's gonna dissolve in this water and it's gonna be so embarrassing.

Rushing out a relief breath, Bokuto eases. He didn't notice his shoulders were hitching up in tension. "Cool," he says, giddy, jumpy. "Sweet. Awesome. That's great. 'cause I like you."

Laughter bubbles out of his throat, though it's wet and gooey and he might've hiccuped by the end of it. "Don't say that so easily, you big doof," Kuroo says thickly, resting back into the water.

Unfair. Bastard. How unfair, he can say kinda stuff and not have his whole world tremor.

Pressing his hands over his face to keep from growing pinker, Kuroo breathes. Maybe he can drown before he makes more of a fool of himself.

"Wanna come over?" he suggests, muffled by his palms. His stomach's fluttering like he's asking something risky. Like he's asking for a first date. Silly. Ridiculous. They've been on plenty already, haven't they? "I've got some of your spare clothes at home. We've got ice pops, too."

From the stomach, Bokuto laughs, something chime-y and wonderful. He presses his palm against Kuroo's stomach, pushing him, and he jerks to smack at his hand. "D'ya even need to ask?" he says, doughy.

Backlit by the setting sunlight, Bokuto's probably the best thing he's ever seen in his damn life.

"I just hope Akaashi's not waiting by the park gates," he admits sheepishly when he pulls Kuroo upright. Throughout the park, Kuroo's laugh echoes, scratchy, loud, but it's the loveliest.

Behind them, Tammy Tanuki shrinks and shrinks, then disappears in the distance.

—

"Can I get a Bubbles pop? Ah, actually— two of them?"

Resting his elbows on the wood of the counter, Kuroo looks out to the ocean. The edge of the sea, dotted with the bright colors of people, blends near seamlessly with the sky.

"Here you go," the teenager says, handing him the popsicles. She's not the pink-haired one from the stand by the riverside, but she's got the same charming smile. Must be an ice-cream stand employee requirement.

Thanking her, he steps out from the awning onto piping hot sand. Unbelievably hot sand. Jesus fuck. He doesn't hop on his toes, not quite— he couldn't even salvage his dignity if he did. A mere couple minutes in the shade, and he's already lost his numbness to the heat. He wishes he brought sandals or something. His toes fucking hurt.

God. Where did his damn immunity go? He managed two weeks in a catastrophic heatwave, why the hell is hot sand his downfall?

It's, frankly, quite wild that just last week Tokyo was on the edge of becoming a giant hot pot. Literally one of the most extreme heatwaves on the planet— relative to location, of course— nearly closing down the entire city to a stillness.

And, somehow, within a two day period, the temperature in Tokyo plummeted from near fifty degrees to a helluva-lot-more-tolerable thirty. A month long disaster, cleaned up and wiped away in two days. Ridiculously unbelievable. But hey, it's whatever. It took a while for everything to get back onto its feet— train tracks were still cautiously looked after, and things that had melted had to be repaired or replaced. But everything's crawling back to normal.

And for the first time in nearly a month, he's actually willingly standing in the sunlight.

Growth.

Fuckin' Tammy Tanuki, he thinks, idly strolling back to their spot. What a rat bitch.

"Ah— Tetsurou!!"

Mid-motion he turns and proceeds to get blinded on the spot. He has to throw his hands up to block the sun, what the fuck, the motherfucker's bright, but it's awkward to try and block it with the ice pops in his hands—

A hand shoots up into the air and waves around haphazardly until it casts a shadow over his eyes, the palm blocking the sun for the most part. It momentarily helps but the fact that it keeps moving and light keeps peeping through his fingers generally makes it useless. Laughter bubbles from his throat, giddy, and Kuroo smacks Bokuto on his shoulder whenever he's close enough. "You're not helping much, bud."

Bokuto puffs his cheeks out, smushing his hand over Kuroo's eyes. "At least I tried!" His hands are grossly sweaty and gritty at the same time, a really weird feeling on his face, so Kuroo tries prying his hands off, snorting. In retaliation— just because he can— Bokuto presses both his hands on his face, squishing his nose. Then he halts very abruptly. Peeling Bokuto's hands off his face, he sees that all focus is directed to what's in his hand. "Dude, is that what I think it is?"

Cheekily, Kuroo presents the ice pops with flourish, bowing with an arm extended, holding Bokuto's long-desired Bubbles pop. "You betcha."

With how loud Bokuto's gasp is you woulda thought he'd be proposing. "B-Bro," he says, watery. He takes it with certain kind of gentleness Kuroo didn't think he had in him.

Knocking his own pop against his, Kuroo grins, "Wouldn't be a proper trip if we didn't have ice cream, right?"

Momentarily there's no response from Bokuto. An expression's on his face that's a little indiscernible— a little too heartfelt. It's very soft on his face. Feather-soft. It makes his pulse rise in this throat, just before a grin splits across Bokuto's face, dispelling the fluttering. "'Course," he says, and he steps close enough to Kuroo to where their elbows and shoulders knock while they walk.

Kuroo tries very, very hard not to go bright red in the face.

Completely ungracefully, Bokuto practically flops straight down onto his towel, disrupting just about everything and sending sand everywhere. Doesn't seem to bother him, though— he fidgets, patting Kuroo's towel with vigor. "C'mon! We gotta open them at the same time!! Tetsu!!"

"Alright, alright," he grins, exasperated, ducking beneath the umbrella and settling onto his towel. The umbrella's just barely big enough for the two of them with their broad shoulders (more like just Bokuto's broad shoulders—), so they're thigh to thigh, elbows and knees knocking together. Bokuto's jittering so much Kuroo can feel his bones vibrate.

Pinching the wrapper, Bokuto looks towards Kuroo, expression bright, eyes creasing. "On the count of three, okay?"

"One, two... three!"

In his vigor Bokuto nearly drops the entire popsicle onto his leg. Side by side, they present them. And like an off switch, Bokuto's smile plummets. With a laugh that grows and grows, Kuroo has to turn away from Bokuto to keep from totally losing it. "No way," Bokuto mutters, sounding so so confused, appalled, and it's sending Kuroo into a fit of laughter again. "They look normal?" Offended, Bokuto squints at the Bubbles pops, eyes roving over each part.

They're the most normal looking Bubbles pops he's ever seen. Didn't even think it was possible to get one that looks normal.

Honestly, it's kinda funny in how ironic it is. "I think its due— after all the misfits we got, there's finally a proper one," Kuroo says placatingly, grinning. He inspects his own— Maybe the gum ball eyes are a little off-centered, but honestly, she's not a monstrosity.

"I want a refund," Bokuto grumbles. Kuroo throws his head back and howls in laughter.

"I knew it, you only want them for the funny-factor," he accuses, leaning heavily against Bokuto until he leans over too, though he's laughing too much to make it sound like a real accusation.

Bokuto looks confused that Kuroo would assume anything else. "It's one of their defining features." Grumpily he pops it in his mouth, munching with such a scowl on his face. It's probably the angriest he's ever eaten ice cream before, and the whole ordeal just Kuroo wheeze.

"Anyways—" Kuroo starts, trying to divert the conversation so that he stops looking so down, "How's the games been going?" He nods towards the net Bokuto had just been playing at. Teenagers currently are bumping the ball across the net with the ease of those who truly don't give a shit who wins or not. One does a spectacular dive to save a ball, getting a mouthful of sand. Unfortunately, the ball does not go far up into the air from their save, sadly hitting the sand with a pomf. The lost point doesn't bring them down, though— everyone's laughing at the mess of sand on the teen's face. Even the teen's laughing, too, practically spewing sand outta their mouth.

"Oh!" Almost too easily, Bokuto brightens up. Takes a huge ass bite from Bubbles's pigtail before speaking. "It sucks ass! Absolute ass! It is impossible to get a good jump! All I've got going for me is that I can still hit it over okay-ish, but it's horrible, man."

"Well, at least it's not solid wood you're diving into." Residual sand is dotted all over Bokuto's face— it would look like freckles if it wasn't so pale. Brushing his palm over Bokuto's cheeks, he really ends up just smudging the sand across on his face, but the flush that grows along his neck is well worth it.

"It's not really any kinder," Bokuto whines, "Like, sure, I'm not breaking my ribs against floorboards, but... but there's sand up my ass."

"Gross."

"SUPER gross!" Shaking the sand from his hair, which has grown willowy with the humid air, he takes another bite from his ice pop. Then he sputters so loudly people walking by glance to make sure he's not dying. "Why! It's everywhere! Everywhere!" he cries, spitting the chunk of ice to the side. When Kuroo looks closer, there's the sprinkling of sand particles all over the remnants of Bubbles.

"That one was totally on you, you doof, you just shook the sand outta your hair with your pop in your hand," Kuroo grins, not sympathetic in the slightest. However, he hands his still-completely-intact Bubbles to Bokuto, who watery blinks at it, mid scrapping the sand off his tongue. "Have mine— I can try to wipe it off of yours in the meantime."

A dopey smile crests across his face. Simply looking at it makes Kuroo flustered, unbearably to the core, so he forcibly switches the pops to look away. "D'aww, Tetsu," Bokuto coos, the affection palpable in his voice. He nudges his elbow into Kuroo's rib, obnoxious, but so fond. "Yer bein' so nice to me. D'ya got a crush on me or somethin'?"

Nonplussed, Kuroo scoops up a handful of sand and reels back, threatening. Bokuto screeches. Bodily turns away, shielding his ice cream. "You wouldn't!" he cowers.

Though having the power is very nice, he lowers his hand because he's a patron saint. "You're right, I'm too nice to ya," he sneers. Smears the sand off the pop with a spare napkin. The napkin does not get the sand off. There's sand on the napkin. Fuckin'— there's sand everywhere.

What else is he expecting? It's the damn beach. Ah. Whatever. He sticks the pop in his mouth. The sand granules scrape against his tongue, but soon enough they're just in his saliva, which he spits out to the side.

Bokuto's nose is scrunched up like he's watching the worst thing occur. His Bubbles pop is already nearly demolished. "Gross. How can you eat sand."

"Didn't," he corrects. The ice cream's sugary sweet now that the sand's out of his mouth.

"You so just did."

"Didn't you eat some earlier?" he prods, grinning a sharp cat's grin. Bokuto bristles full-bodied, embarrassed. "I saw that dive." He whistles, taunting, "Didn't even save it. A whole mouthful of sand, for nothing... Top ace of the country, who?"

Looking like he's five seconds from just leaping at him, Bokuto almost bursts. "I'd like to see you try! Which one of us will eat the most sand! I don't think you'd even be able to block me," he challenges, puffing up, very smug about it.

Kuroo snorts. "Who's the one here who can jump higher? I can block you easy-peasy."

Briefly, Bokuto's momently stilled. Like he's genuinely surprised. Then he leans, far, far into Kuroo's personal space, "You— You're actually gonna come play a round?" he asks, glimmering. The gold of his eyes glitters so brightly, a sparkling so tangible. Even if he wasn't already planning on playing a round, that charm— he'd be convinced in a second. Bokuto could probably convince him to do whatever he wants.

"'Course I will," he says, fondness pulling at his guts. What a volleyball brain. They're at the beach and they haven't even gone in the water once yet. "What else did I come here for?"

He'd go anywhere he'd ask, after all.

"Besides. Gotta show ya how to set properly, after all," smirking, Kuroo stands up briskly, striding out from their little umbrella to leave a gaping Bokuto to scramble after him a second later. In a couple of long strides, Bokuto falls in step with him, bumping their shoulders together. This time, it's his smile blinding him. He might need to wear sunglasses every time he looks at him.

"You're on!"

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #kuroo tetsurou #bokuto koutarou #bokuro #this is my pride and joy #do not take it seriously. its a lil silly #sappy #fluff #italics didn't move over but! not feeling like adding them in rn! go to ao3 lol

[uptonogoodindiememes]

Pushing Daisies Sentence Meme - Pie-lette

“Every day I come in, I pick a pie and I concentrate all my love on that pie, because if I love it, someone else is gonna love it,”

“Undead, nobody wants to be un anything. It’s like beginning a statement with, I don’t disagree. Just say you agree.”

“I used to think mastrbation meant chewing your food,”

“So you want in on this opportunity or not?”

“Fine, but my threshold’s pretty high so you have to take what I say with a grain of salt,”

“My secretary sicked her dog on me,”

“How was your convention?”

“Been watchin’ the news lately?”

“I haven’t thought of her since I was ten,”

“You got something personal you need to say?”

“Do you remember the little boy who lived nextdoor to you when your dad died?”

“I had the strangest dream, I was being strangled to death with a plastic sack,”

“I used to, when I lived nextdoor to you, I had a cru, uh, I was in, you were my first kiss,”

“Your eye is twitching,”

“Hey, I think somebody’s truck’s on fire,”

“I can’t even hug you? What if you need a hug, a hug can turn your day around,”

“Then you haven’t been hugged properly, it’s like an emotional heimlich, someone puts their arms around you and they give you a squeeze and all your feelings come shooting out of your mouth in a big wet wad and you can breathe again,”

“So a kiss is out of the question?”

“I’ve lost my train of thought,”

“I always wondered if you’d come back. I guess you came back when I needed you most,”

“I’m gonna sleep here, you take the bed, I insist,”

“I’m not mad at you, I just wanna know. I’ll be mad at you if you lie to me though,”

“So how was the service?”

“No, I wanted you not to want the reward, fifty thousand dollars, that’s a lot of money,”

“I’m not a detective. I make pies,”

“You’re supposed to be dead,”

“It’s just o shockingly stupid, I have a hard time beliving you did it,”

“Are you in love with her? Cause it’s that level of stupid,”

“You know what, we all have childhood issues, okay? I got a full subscription, okay? Horror stories,”

“You know what. I’m glad you did it. It makes the worst thing I ever did seem insignificant,”

“I’m not who you think I am,”

“I just wanna look in the window,”

“I was supposed to keep them safe and than I left. I would just die if anything happened to them,”

“I can hold my breath for a long time,”

“I was being selfish. I’d love to tell myself I was being unselfish, but I know deep down in my primal sweet spot I was being unselfish for selfish reasons,”

“I just thought my world would be a better place with you in it,”

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“The planet’s fallin’ apart. Right now it’s our children’s problem. If we reincarnate, it’s our problem,”

#open starter #roleplay starter #indie rp starter #roleplay meme #Pushing Daisies #Moony

[gworlinterrupted]

Dreamboy Episode 6: Jupiter’s Lifeless Moons transcript

Hi! I was looking online to see if anyone had been doing Dreamboy transcripts and I saw that there was nothing after episode five, so I’ve started on the rest, episode six first. Sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes, I’m dealing with lots of run on sentences here. Anyway I hope you enjoy, more transcripts to come (I’m gonna try to do all the bonus episodes and such). Also: if you’re looking to hire a transcriptionist for your podcast or anything else please feel free to shoot me a message, I’m always looking for work 

Enjoy! If you’d rather have a pdf copy I’d be happy to send that to you too.

DANE

The dream is different this time. It starts in the dark like always, but this time I'm laying down. I’m curled up on something rough. I lift my head up. I feel like I'm moving. Oh my god, I’m inside the fish. I’m laying on its tongue. But it’s like it’s tongue is the whole bottom of the inside of the fish, and the inside of the fish is huge. It’s like the whole thing is hollow, and it has ridges like the inside of a throat. I stand up and look around. It’s daytime outside and the light is coming through the mouth and eyes like windows. I just stare at that ghostly daylight face, swaying slowly side to side as the fish swims. I have this sudden urge to look out, to look out of the mouth. So I walk to the front of the tongue. I walk right up to its giant jaws. The bones lay open just a little bit, and then they close and I feel the water come in, wash over my face, push my hair back. Outside I can see the tops of rocky spires, like underwater mountains or something, passing underneath us, and I want to see, I want to look but that means I have to lean my head out of its mouth, between its jaws. I think about it. Another intake of water blows my hair back. 

[WATER RUSHES IN]

The mouth is exactly the height of my head, and I reach out and touch the bone jaw, and then I pull my hand back and wait. Nothing. Maybe the fish doesn’t know I’m in here. I reach out and touch the jaw again, but this time I leave my hand on it. Nothing. Just the rhythm of swimming. God, it feels so sharp. I swallow, and I lean my head out over the razor edge, and I look down into the water at the rocky spires passing underneath, but they aren’t spires, they’re not mountains, they’re buildings. The tops of tall skyscrapers all fuzzy and covered in moss and algae. It’s a whole city. It’s downtown Cleveland.

[SWOOSHING NOISES]

DANE

I wake up. The bright, late morning sun is coming through the windows of the guest bedroom, and my hand immediately goes to my dick, but it’s soft.

[SOFT MUSIC]

DANE

I get up and put on my wrinkled red shirt and slog my way to the zoo for work. On my way I text Luke, just a simple “hey, WYD”, but he doesn’t answer. He never responded to my goodnight text last night, either. Like, maybe he’s mad? About the cakes? I don’t know. I almost walk into traffic because I'm staring at the message thread. I stop at Settler’s Coffee, and I text him again. I say “I had another fish dream, they’re getting weirder.” I watch my phone intently as I cream and sugar my coffee. I use the simple syrup even though it’s hot coffee, just to have a hand free for my phone. But nothing. I get to work. Maybe he’s still asleep. He is pretty nocturnal. Work is stupid, we’re understaffed so I spend six and a half hours straight at the roller coaster podium. I stop saying that whole de-briefing room line about three hours in, and I text Luke a few more times, but he still doesn’t answer. And then I run out of things to text without feeling like a crazy creep. Now it’s a half an hour before close and I'm only just now getting a lunch break because Tammy Jammers, who usually watches the ride while I’m out on break, called out sick today. She said she had food poisoning, but I know she’s just hungover. Her last Instagram post was at three A.M. last night, and it was a picture, taken with a flash, of Taco Bell that she put on a plate. I go out to the main drag to get food like I always do, but the only food place still open is the hot dog stand, and I just can’t with those. They’re like the same temperature and texture as a human body so they make your mouth feel like it’s kissing someone you don’t like. Hot dog? Lukewarm dog more like. A breeze blows. [sighs] It’s getting colder, so I go back inside into the hall of history which is just this longstupid hallway

[OPERA ARIA IN BACKGROUND]

in the same building as the roller coaster. I have to walk through it every day when I go on lunchbreak, but I never actually stop because I only get thirty minutes for lunch break, and it takes twenty minutes just to get through the fucking food line, so I have to run through there, and it’s just like dusty plaques and old maps and stuff. There’s like a few old exhibits that don’t work. It’s, like, where grandparents go to hang out on hot days. Which you would think meant that they had more places to sit down, but.... I look down at my phone again. Nothing. There’s also this weird music playing, and it’s skipping like…. I look up and see a wall with the words “who's who” painted really big on the top of it, and underneath there’s like a bunch of buttons with flaps. I run my finger around one of the buttons and just like accidently the button pushes in and this voice recording starts to play. It’s Kritch! 

ELI KRITCH

You love grapes and naps. Before your life here at the Pepper Heights Zoo, you were an animal pioneer for NASA and actually went into space! After that, you spent many years at an interstate sideshow in the Florida Panhandle doing a high society routine. To this day you still listen to opera to fall asleep. Which Pepper Heights animal friend are you?

DANE

The recording ends. I lift up the flap. It says “you are the chimpanzee, Madam Beauregard.” Great. That’s creepy. I look back down at my phone. Still nothing. It’s not that I like... it’s not that I like need to talk to him or anything, it’s just that, like, it’s just the not knowing is fucking awful. Like, just text me back! How hard is it to text somebody back? I look back at the wall. There’s an arrow pointing to a smaller button next to Madam Beauregard’s name, and it says “push button to hear your favorite aria”, but the music is stuck in which totally explains the skipping music. Jesus Christ, it’s probably an actual CD player behind this fucking wall with this place. I look at my phone. Fucking nothing. Earlier in the day, right after I asked if he was mad, I saw the little dots

VOICES [sung]

Where is Luke?

DANE

You know, the little dots that mean somebody’s typing back. And I… I watched them, and then they disappeared and they never started again.

VOICES [sung]

Where is Luke?

DANE

And ever since then my head has just been full of all the little voices that say all the little things.. 

VOICES [sung] Where is Luke? 

Ughhh Jesus fuck, now they have music. That’s great.

VOICES [sung[

Where is Luke?

DANE

 Yeah I don’t really care where he’s at. And why are there so many buttons in this exhibit? Like, there’s no way there’s this many animals that still live here. Like, most of the exhibits are shut down, these animals are probably dead. 

VOICES [sung]

Losers

DANE

And the seven that are here are like not the kind of animals you want to push a button and hear about, right? 

VOICES [sung]

Losers 

DANE They’re like, retired circus freaks and movie animals that can’t work anymore. 

VOICES [sung]

Losers, losers, losers

DANE

It’s like this whole place just attracts washed up showbiz animals. 

VOICES 

Just like you!

DANE

[sighs] Yeah thanks I connected that. I look down at my phone. Again. Nothing. Again. I don’t even know why I keep checking. I mean, I turn my vibration notifications on so I wouldn’t have to check but I still check. So I open up instagram to see if he’s posting there, but he’s not. It’s just the picture that he posted late last night. The one of the blue hand on his neck that we took in front of the tunnel. It’s already got like three thousand likes, Jesus Christ. I check my texts again. Why am I checking it, I'm holding it. So I open up Grindr. I check his profile. He’s not on. It says he hasn’t been on in hours. So I open up my texts again and I just look at it, I just LOOK. UGHH why won’t he text?!

VOICES

Cause he’d rather spend time with strange old men than talk to me.

DANE

It’s like they practice in there while I’m sleeping, Jesus. I look back up from my phone. Now I’m in front of some sort of ice age diorama, like, why? There’s a caveman standing over a wolf that he’s just killed, and there’s blood everywhere. And behind that, really small in a cave, there’s a woman and a child, waiting for him all terrified. But right next to the cave in the dark where you can’t see is another wolf, and nobody sees it. And then another face appears in the glass. I turn around. It’s Kritch. Or, like, Kritch’s face, on a TV, in an exhibit on the opposite wall. I walk over. He’s younger. It’s weird seeing young Kritch, I mean it’s like still my boss but, you know, smoother. It’s some sort of like special news piece from like twenty years ago. 

KRITCH

Oh I certainly think the people over at Stonefall Labs can appreciate what we are doing over here. And for the record I do not believe that they are covering up any discoveries of alien life. That’s quite frankly preposterous. I can assure you they were in fact only only doing a geological survey of the moons of Jupiter, on contract from NASA, like they say. I just think they came up at the end of that, did more to make a big deal of it, we all have swings and misses sometimes, but I thought I’d take my own swing. 

DANE 

Boy, his smile hasn’t changed, that’s for sure. The video ends and there’s a black screen with a logo that says “The Zenarc Corporation”. I see my face in the screen. 

[SWOOSHING NOISES/MUSIC]

DANE

It’s taken me a couple weeks of working here to piece it all together, but I do sort of know a little bit about what Kritch’s talking about in this video. See, in the late fifties the Stonefalls built this private research and development site called Stonefall Labs on the other side of the woods from the zoo. All sorts of things were developed there over the years, everything from, like, ketchup recipes and zip-ties to lots of darker things I’m sure we don’t know about. Like they famously patented the first answering machine, for example. It was as big as a room. It got sabotaged by this secret group of secretaries, though. Which is a cool story, but later. Anyway, because of some sort of technology that they had patented, they got a contract from NASA in the eighties to survey Jupiter’s moons to look for the possible presence of a specific isotope of helium called helium two. Now, scientists thought helium two was going to be like the rocket fuel of the future, it was going to revolutionize space exploration they thought. And this was all public knowledge there was even a little article in the paper, but nobody really cared. However, Stonefall labs found nothing. Zip. And at first they just said that there was problems with their equipment, but then weeks went by and then months and they said nothing. And they stayed quiet for so long that it started to attract attention, and people started to say maybe they in fact had found something a lot more interesting than helium deposits on the moons of Jupiter. Which, of course, that blew up like a house fire and pretty soon there was this huge conspiracy theory and speculation and a media frenzy. But at the same time while that was all going on, the young Elias Kritch had just taken over the helm of the Pepper Heights Zoo from his late father, Eddie. Despite the fact that another Kritch in charge of the zoo was like the last thing the Stonefalls wanted. But Eli was intent on leaving his mark, and he vowed to turn the zoo into a profitable enterprise, rather than just another suckling on the Stonefall money teet. So he said “I have an idea, how about a full on theatrical roller coaster experience called Jupiter’s Lifeless Moons”. The whole story inspired by the controversy. It was supposed to be this stepping stone into becoming a real amusement park, but he never made the money back. Like not even close. He put the zoo into permanent debt. The Stonefalls never let him live it down. And it only took a couple of years before the entire context was completely buried anyway. Pretty soon, nobody remembered anything at all about the Stonefall Lab’s Jovian lunar survey scandal, you know. But the ride stayed and here it is after all these years. The video starts to replay, Kritch starts talking again, and I start to walk away but I notice something I didn't see before: a rough disk with a hole in it hanging from a string around young Kritch’s neck. A disk with a hole in the middle… John Stonefall. What the…. I check my phone. 

VOICES [sung]

Where is Luke?

DANE

Still nothing. 

VOICES [sung]

Where is Luke?

DANE

Why can’t he just text back? 

VOICES [sung]

Where is Luke?

DANE

Whatever. 

LADY 1 [sung]

And could he really actually like me?

DANE

Yeah, probably not.

LADY 1 [sung]

Maybe I fucked it all up again

DANE

Probably.

LADY 1 [sung]

Maybe I’ll never know again

DANE

Whoa, that seems a little melodramatic

LADY 1 [sung]

Why do I even care?

DANE

You know, I don’t even care

LADY 1 [sung]

Do I even care?

DANE

 No. I don’t think I even care.

LADY 2 [sung]

This is textbook patriarchal communication

 MAN 1 [sung]

Maybe he’s not answering for a reason

DANE

I.. I know he’s mad at me for eating his cakes.

VOICES

Guilt!

DANE

Which, I did eat his cakes. 

VOICES 

Guilt!

DANE And lie to him 

VOICES

Guilt! Guilt!

DANE

Ughhhhh 

DANE [sung] Why do I feel guilty?

VOICES [sung]

Resentment

DANE [sung] I mean it’s not that big of a deal, Cora’s just a crazy lady.

VOICES [sung] Resentment

DANE [sung]

And the cakes were sent to the wrong house

LADY 2 [sung] I don’t know if that is true

DANE [sung] Why do I care? I don’t even like him at all

VOICES [sung] Where is Luke? 

DANE Wanna know where he’s at? I’ll tell you where he’s at.

DANE [sung]

He’s off somewhere being young and stupid

HIGH VOICES [sung]

Haul him off, haul him off, haul him off!

DANE [sung]

He’s off somewhere not knowing what he wants

VOICES [sung] We just met

DANE 

Yeah, we just met.

VOICES [sung]

We just met!

DANE [sung] He’s too laid back

LOW VOICES [sung] Too laid back

HIGH VOICES [sung]

Sleeps on the floor of an empty house

DANE [sung] I wish I could sleep on the floor in an empty house…. But I can’t!

DANE

Cause I have real responsibilities

DANE [sung]

Like he doesn’t do anything

HIGH VOICES [sung]

Do anything

DANE [sung]

Maybe he does and I just haven’t asked

VOICES [sung] Do anything, I didn’t do anything

DANE [sung] Maybe I’m the one

VOICES [sung] NOPE

DANE

Being a total dick

VOICES [sung] NOPE DANE Maybe I’m being a dick

VOICES [sung] I didn’t do anything 

VOICE 1 [sung]

He’s just a narcissistic twink!

DANE Yeah 

VOICE 1 [sung]

He’s just a narcissistic twink! DANE

Yeah

VOICES [sung]

A narcisistic, masochistic, fetishistic, sorta cryptic, dirty little selfish fucking twink! Who would rather be hit by strange old men than talk to me.

DANE Yeah, but I don’t care.

VOICES [sung] I don’t care! 

DANE

I gotta get outta here. Where are the doors, where are the doors, I just need some air. I fall through the double doors, out onto the main drag. Oh, god….The air is cool, but it feels good. There’s, like, silence for a minute. At least in my head. I hear an age-guesser guessing his last customer somewhere.

[AGE GUESSER SPEAKING IN BACKGROUND]

DANE A smattering of laughing through the trees. 

[LAUGHTER]

DANE

And I reach for my phone out of like instinct.

VOICE 1 [sung]

Where is Luke?

DANE

But then I stop myself because this is stupid

VOICE 1 [sung]

Where is Luke?

DANE

Like it's annoying that...

VOICE 1 [sung]

Where is Luke? DANE Like there’s some, some sort of..

VOICE 1 [sung]

Where is Luke? DANE

My body seems to have a question. Like a body question.

VOICE 1 [sung]

Where is Luke?

DANE 

That it keeps asking.

VOICE 1 [sung]

Where…

DANE

My phone vibrates in my pocket! I pull it out. It’s a Grindr message. I open up the app. Oh, he’s cute. His message just says “hey”. It also says he’s only 200 feet away. I look up and look around. I don’t see anyone who looks like him. I look back at his profile. He’s playfully flexing his arm in his photo and making a goofy face, standing shirtless and soaking wet next to a pool in someone’s backyard somewhere, and his dark hair looks darker because it’s wet, and his underarm hair is pasted to his body in little black flames. His headline says Alex. I look at the time. I have twenty minutes. [sighs] Fuck it. “Hey”, I say. “What’s up”, he says. “On break”, I say. “Me too”, he says. “You work at the zoo?” “No, Stonefall Labs. I came to get a hot dog”. Wow, yuck, really? But I couldn't pass up the opportunity for a bad joke so I said “ah, you like weiners, huh”. Coy emoji.”LOL, yep”, he says. Then, “do you?”, and immediately he sends a picture of his dick. Whoa. Fuck, it’s huge. It’s thicker in the middle and curves really dramatically, and it’s so hard in the picture that it looks like a dead thing that’s swollen up on the side of a path. “Wow” I say, “I’d love to put that in my mouth some time.” Coy face. “You should”, he says, “how about now?” “Where”, I say. “Men’s bathroom by the Dippin’ Dots. No one’s ever in there. I’m by there now.” Fuck, my heart is racing. The zoo closes in half an hour, and there’s like nobody here, and he’s right, that bathroom is so out of the way that nobody uses it hardly. Even the Dippin’ Dots guy won’t be there cause he’s watching the rollercoaster for me right now. I look down at his message again. Then at the clock. Seventeen minutes left. My heart is getting quicker. [sighs] ”Okay”, I say “I’ll come now”. “I’ll be waiting inside”, he says. Okay. A few seconds later I’m cutting across the main thoroughfare. Walking quickly. The breeze is cool on my face. The stands are mostly all closed and the rides are shutting down. The few people that are out are all workers, all walking the same direction to the front gate. Their faces lit from underneath by their own phones. I come around the corner by the closed up Dippin’ Dots stand, and I stop. There it is. The squat, gray bathroom building with that rusty water fountain on the side that hasn’t worked for so long that an out of order sign is no longer required. I see the door of the men’s bathroom. It’s closed, but there’s an edge of seering white light all around the heavy metal door. Okay, okay okay okay okay. I walk up to it. I look around. Nobody. The whole building seems to have a low hum. I take a breath, and I open the door. There’s a loud metal creak as the door opens. 

[CREAK]

DANE And the door catches on the concrete floor and doesn’t shut all the way. I kick it a couple times until it does. 

[DOOR SHUTS]

DANE

The metal bangs ring and echo off the tile. Then I round a tiled wall into the bright restroom, and I see him, standing at the far left urinal, his back to me. He doesn’t look back or move, the cold white lights buzzing and flickering all around. I check the stall on the other side of the little room. It’s empty. It’s door off one of its hinges and hanging there like an open jaw. I walk up slowly to the far right urinal, side eyeing the guy. I keep a urinal between us. I get there and I start to undo my pants. The light directly above the urinals is buzzing, loud. I glance over at him, but he doesn’t look back at me or anything. He doesn’t talk or move or acknowledge me at all. Like, what the fuck? I mean it’s definitely him, and he’s standing away from the urinal so that I can see his dick but he’s just peeing. I look back at the wall, and then I look back over at him. He is handsome, though. He’s a few inches taller than me and muscular, in baggy Carhartt pants and a large dirty gray t-shirt. There’s paint on his elbows and grease on his arms. I look back straight ahead. Okay, now what? I start to panic. I try to pee, but I really don’t have to go. One more time, I look over. He’s done now, shaking his dick. God, even soft it’s big. But he’s still ignoring me. He’s still shaking it, like, way longer than he should. Okay, it starts to get bigger as he swings it around. And then he starts pulling on it, and I'm just standing there watching him out of the side of my eye, holding my own dick in my hand. God, it’s getting bigger and bigger and less floppy, and slowly his pulling turns into gripping and stroking, and it gets thicker and tighter until after about a minute it’s as thick as I saw in the pic earlier. God, it looks angry, and I'm watching his hand run the length of it back and forth, trying not to look like I'm looking, lost in the rhythm, when I hear it- a voice coming from everywhere at once. I look up at the side of his face, straight at it. The lights above flicker a little. It had to be his voice, but he’s still not looking at me. He’s just watching his hand move over his own dick. But as I'm looking at the side of his face I see his lips move, and I hear his voice again. 

ALEX Come here. Get on your knees. 

DANE I take a breath, I turn, and I walk up next to him. I can smell his cologne, and I kneel down in front of the urinals. The floor is hard and a little wet on my knees, and I try not to think about why. He turns, swinging his dick toward my face, and finally his eyes look down into mine. The light is buzzing and pulsing above him, his body’s like a silhouette, and then he reaches down and puts his fingers in my mouth. They smell like solvents and metal, and he feels around like he lost something in my teeth. And it doesn’t seem like this would be hot but, god, something about it really is. And then he opens my mouth wider with his fingers and takes them out and traces the wetness of my spit up my face, and then grabs my hair and slowly puts his dick in. Past my lips, and then past my tongue, gentle but also steady. I feel it hit the back of my throat and stop. He grabs my hair harder and looks down at my eyes. I don’t know how, but I sort of nod with my face and eyes and make a sort of “uh-huh” sound, and he smiles and puts more pressure in his thrust. And I feel my throat iris out like a dark, wet camera. And he slides all the way down, until my face is against his body. He just holds me against him, and he breathes. I feel the entire inside of my throat and head stretched over his dick. I feel it reaching down into my chest. I feel like a butterfly on a pin. His smell fills my nose. It’s a thick, sweaty smell- the smell of baseball and locker rooms and the back of the bus. He just looks down at me, and I look up at him, and the light buzzes. 

[BATHROOM DOOR OPENS]

DANE

The metal bathroom door. He takes his dick out of my throat.

[DANE GAGS AND COUGHS]

DANE It almost makes me puke. I scramble to my feet and quickly get to the urinal. He turns and does the same. We both just stare at the wall in front of us, become strangers again. I hear someone round the tile wall behind us. I hear Alex zipping up his pants and flushing, quick. I do the same. I wipe the water from my eyes and I go to leave, but as I turn, I see the person who entered. It’s the Dippin’ Dots guy, Trey. 

DANE [to TREY] Oh, hey man. Wait, you’re not still watching the ride...

TREY [laughs] Nah. I guess some little girl dropped her teddy bear on the track, so I closed it up early, but I left her number on the control console. 

DANE

But you didn’t go get it?

TREY

Fuck no. I'm not climbing all those jank-ass ladders. 

DANE [to listener] Alex brushes past Trey and heads out of the bathroom. Trey doesn’t even look at him. It’s funny what straight boys just can’t see in bathrooms. I watch Trey disappear into the slack jaw of the stall without even trying to close the door, and then I hear him start to pee. 

[PEEING NOISES]

TREY

Later, dude!

DANE I get back to the roller coaster, it takes like twenty seconds. I go into the side door 

[DOOR OPENING]

The door shuts behind me. 

[DOOR SHUTTING]

And I take a breath. That was fucking intense. It all feels like it didn’t happen, but it just happened like a minute ago. I can still smell the dude on my face. Whoa [sighs]. All the colored lights and space music are gone, and the big overhead lights are on, but I know Trey’s dumb ass didn’t do any of the other closing duties. I walk up to my podium and I see the ride is switched into its standby mode, which means that both cars are nestled into the shuttle bay, and the power is off to the ride. In order to turn it all back on again, you need to put a special key in and turn the red lever, then you hear a big “kerchunk”, and the whole building sorta comes alive and the lights change and the music starts, but now it just looks like bad props and old paint in a bright warehouse, which is what it is. There’s the note Trey was talking about, though. It just says “little girl lost teddy on ride” and then a phone number. There’s not even a name. The keys are next to the note. I take them both and put them in my pocket. 

[KEYS JANGLING, POCKET RUSTLING]

DANE I finish the rest of the closing duties: sweep and mop the floors, wipe the glass on the doors, wipe the coaster cars down, and when everything’s done, I go through the utility door into the underbelly of the ride to look for the damn teddy bear. Under the ride there are work lights, these bare bulbs hanging from scaffolding, but they definitely don’t work, so I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight. It smells like laser tag. You know, that... that special effects smoke that they use. Half the time when people drop something we find it in “The Net”, and we’re supposed to check “The Net” once a week but people never check it. Also, the net is so old that it has rips and tears and whole sections that have fallen down. It’s like the web of a giant spider that got bored and said “fuck it” and crawled away years ago. So, often things end up on the dusty floor, twenty or thirty feet below. I walk to a place where I can look up through the skeleton of the rollercoaster into the net by the big turn. That’s usually where people drop things, the big turn. No teddy bear. I point my phone light down onto the concrete floor below it. Nothing. Anything new down in this dusty world is immediately visible for its lack of gray dust fuzz. If it has color, it’s new. But I only see an endless field of small, linty shapes. Look, there’s one last place that things occasionally do end up. The moon platform. See, in the middle of the ride there’s this platform where the coaster stops, like full on stops, and this video plays. It’s supposed to be the surface of the moon that you land on, and it’s where you meet the alien that makes the name of the ride ironic, I guess. I’ve never actually ridden the ride so I don’t know, but, like, a rollercoaster with a video in the middle sounds like an awful idea. I’m standing at the base of the ladder to the platform, looking up. I give it a shake. 

[LADDER RATTLING]

It’s so loose that it wobbles and buckles all the way up, moaning and creaking. I hear a screw fall somewhere in the dark.

[SCREW FALLS]

DANE

[sighs] I take a breath and start to climb. 

[LADDER RATTLING]

DANE

I feel the swaying pull of my weight on the scaffolding. Jesus. More creaking. I just climb faster and faster, I just try not to look. Finally I get up to the top of the platform and pull myself up and dust myself off. 

[DUSTING OFF]

DANE

I stand up and look around. The platform is decorated to look like the rocky surface of a moon. Foam rocks, gray paint, that kinda thing. Still no sign of a teddy bear, though. I start to look behind the foam rocks. Maybe it got thrown. But then I hear a sound, a huge “kerchunk”. The work lights go off, the colored lights come on, and space music starts. The building groans, and something huge and metal begins to slither below me. Fuck, someone’s turned on the ride! I scramble to find the ladder in the dark, but I can’t, and I hear the coaster rumbling in the walls, it’s getting closer. Fuck! I don’t know what happens if I’m up here when the coaster comes, so I try to find the ladder again, but one foot slips off the edge of the platform. Holy fuck, I like almost fall. Jesus it woulda killed me, it’s like thirty feet straight down. The roar’s getting louder and louder and louder, I pull my leg back and I scoot behind a foam rock just as the coaster rounds the corner.

[COASTER WHOOSHING]

DANE There’s a person in it. The coaster slows and stops, locks into place. The screen lights up and the video begins, and in the light of the video I see that the person is Kritch, sitting in the middle front seat of the coaster, watching the screen, his arms in front of him on the lap bar. The moonscape continues in the video, making it look like the surface of the moon goes on for miles, and then there’s like eery moon music playing. Well, then a green alien emerges from behind a rock in the video, and it gets closer to us cautiously, and then it starts to speak. 

ALIEN IN VIDEO Greetings, earthlings aboard Shuttle 5. I’m a representative for the race of beings that has inhabited Moon 34 of the planet you call Jupiter for millions of years. Your civilization has remained unaware of our existence until this moment. We mean you no harm. We have no weapons, our technology is meager, but we know why you’ve come. The resource you seek is plentiful here, but its retrieval would destroy our home and lead to our certain demise, as we depend upon it for sustenance. We will restore your communications momentarily. However, we beg of you, do not disclose our existence to your superiors upon your return. You must report no helium two on Moon 34, the future of our species rests in your hands, earthlings of Shuttle 5. Good fortune and tidings to you.

DANE The video ends and the coaster comes unlocked and starts again.

[COASTER STARTING, ROLLING]

DANE

Kritch faces front, and I see him wipe his eyes. I must have stood up during the alien’s speech. I crouch back down and hide again quickly. Fuck, I hope he didn’t see me. I listen to the coaster disappear down another hill as the onboard computer says “malfunction, malfunction, returning to Jupiter base [unintelligible]. The roar fades. [sighs] I breathe out. Then I get up and start feeling around for the ladder. A few minutes later, I fall through the utility door back into the launch room, almost coughing from the fake smoke. What the fuck was Kritch doing riding a kid’s ride all by himself in the middle of the fucking night? [sighs] What a weirdo. I hear the coaster make the last of the big turns. I just wanna get out of here, so I slip out quickly  the way that the kids come out, through the debriefing room. The debriefing room is just a room with two big light-up buttons under a sign that says “MISSION REPORT”. I stop. The buttons… The buttons. I’ve never really understood them before now. There’s a red one and a green one, and the red button says “no helium present on moon” and the green button says “helium present on moon”, but it’s the green button that’s worn so much that it’s barely legible. I get closer. The glow of green gets brighter on my face. I don’t understand, the kids rat out the alien? That’s fucked up. I reach out and touch the green button. It’s rough from years of well-behaved, terrified children. But then, and I don't know why really, I reach over and press the red button. It blinks three times. 

KRITCH

Good choice.

DANE [to listener]

It’s Kritch. I didn’t hear him slip in. 

DANE [to Kritch]

Oh, um, I was... I was just uh leaving.

KRITCH It’s okay.

DANE [to listener]

He walks up beside me and looks at the buttons.

KRITCH

It is curious.

DANE [to Kritch]

What’s curious?

KRITCH Well, I didn’t expect it either but it’s true. All the kids push the green button.

DANE [to listener]

He’s not looking at me. He’s staring at the green button, his fingers running over that same rough patch. 

KRITCH They tell the truth because they know they’re supposed to or they will get in trouble. But the grown-ups? They choose red. 

DANE [to listener]

He looks over at the red button. His hand drops and his smile flattens.

KRITCH Because they know the truth about trouble.

DANE [to Kritch]

What’s the truth about trouble?

DANE [to listener]

He turns towards me. I can see that his eyes are still wet, and his suit is, like, way too shiny, and it’s reflecting the red and green lights. He takes a step towards me. 

KRITCH That you’re always in trouble. 

DANE [to listener] And then leans down until his face is like right over mine.

KRITCH And sometimes a little lie can really help with how much.

DANE [to listener]

The zoo is deserted. It’s after close now. All the lights on all the rides are out. Kritch said he would close up the ride and that I could go, so I started to head for the gate. I haven’t checked my phone in a while, but just as I'm reaching for it I hear something. 

[ANIMAL CRYING]

DANE

A crying sound. Zoe. I stop. Something is different about the sound this time.

[ANIMAL CRYING]

DANE

I turn around and walk slowly along the side of the huge building that houses both the rollercoaster and Zoe’s enclosure. The sound usually sounds like it’s far away, like in a cave, but this time it sounds very close. I round the corner and there she is, only like fifteen feet from me, in a small cement stall with an iron gate around it standing over a drain. She yelps when she sees me.

[ZOE YELPS]

DANE I scream a little bit and turn to run around the corner, and boom! I almost run into someone.

DANE [to person]

Oh I'm sorry I… 

DANE [to listener]

it’s Jennifer. 

JENNIFER Did you miss me?

DANE [to Jennifer]

Fuck. I should have known I'd see you. Wherever there’s shadows and secrets there you are a sneakin’.

JENNIFER Look who’s talking. You’re the sneak tonight. Sneak.

DANE [to Jennifer] What are you even doing here?

JENNIFER What are you even doing here?

DANE [to Jennifer] I’m at my job. It’s a thing grown-ups do.

JENNIFER Pssh. Grown-up? Nice shirt. I’m here for the rally, stupid.

DANE [to listener]

She holds up a flier to my face, like a brat. I recognize it from Emily’s porch yesterday. It says “save Zoe rally at the zoo”. Fuck, that’s today? I don’t even know the date. I look back down at her stupid face. 

DANE [to Jennifer]

You know what? You oughta go back and say hi to your little friend Zoe, stick your face through that gate and see if she’ll kiss ya’. 

DANE [to listener]

Jennifer looks at me with almost pity, and then she starts laughing. 

JENNIFER [laughing]

DANE [to Jennifer]

What’s so funny?

JENNIFER

[laughing] Oh, Zoe can’t hurt me. 

DANE [to Jennifer]

Why not?

DANE [to listener]

She steps closer to me. She’s holding a piece of cardboard with “SAVE ZOE” written on it. 

JENNIFER Because Zoe the zebra is dead. 

[THEME MUSIC]

ELLIE HAYMEN Dreamboy is co-created by Dane Terry and Ellie Haymen. Developed and directed by Ellie Haymen. Written, composed, and performed by Dane Terry, featuring Cecil Baldwin, Avery Draut, Michael St. Peter, Jake Sellers and Chris Weingarten. Sound Designed, Engineered, Mixed and Mastered by Christopher Weingarten at Bananappeal Studio. Edited by Alexander Charles Adams. Creative Producer and Assistant Director: Ashlin Hatch. Associate producer: Adam Cecil. Executive Producer: Christy Gressman. A very special thanks to Night Vale Presents. You can find us on Twitter and Instagram @dreamboypodcast. For more info and for merch check out dreamboypodcast.com. 

#dreamboy #dreamboy podcast #night vale presents #do i have to put a disclaimer? idk how these things work. this isn't my podcast i'm just a fan

[elektra-world]

The Wrath Part 3

↳ღ—— [Scenario: The Wrath Part 3]

Summary: Another surprise weigh in yields some unwelcome results and a member must pay the price when Mr. Park isn’t happy with what he sees. 

Warnings: This part is a bit darker and does include some “minor” physical and verbal abuse.

Requests are open so if you want a certain scenario with a member or the group, feel free to shoot me an ask and I’ll try my best to respond when I can.

It has been two weeks since the girls comeback and Loca had been doing surprisingly well. It reached number 13 on gaon digital charts while another one of their songs from the EP - freesm - reached number 15 after Lisa from blackpink did a dance cover. The company was buzzing with excitement and the girls were riding a high. They were finally starting to make a name for themselves and all the hard work was starting to pay off. 

Unfortunately, all that excitement would soon come to a halt on the dreaded day of weigh in.  

All six members of DIVIN3 stood side by side with their hands clasped behind their backs, heads lowered as the CEO and Mr. Park whispered to each other a few feet away. The tension in the air was thick - enough to suffocate someone, really - and the results were not good.

Mr. Park strolled up to the most nervous member of all - Jenna - and let out a long, exasperated sigh. “How did you manage to gain 5 kilograms in two weeks? The diet we had outlined for all of you would have prevented that if you had been following it.” 

Jenna bites her lip hard and bows her head. “I’m sorry Manager." She whispered, too ashamed to explain herself. 

“No, it’s fine because it’s not your fault.” Mr. Park tutted and turned on his heel to walk to the end of the line where Sora stood. Her heart was racing as the manager stared her down while shaking his head.

“It’s not your fault because your leader here was supposed to keep an eye on all of you but it appears she failed at doing so.”

Sora felt the sting of tears forming in her eyes and she looked up, preparing an apology for failing everybody but she didn’t get a chance to open her mouth, because what happened next happened so fast she didn’t get the chance to utter a word.

There was a loud crack followed by a pained squeal and it wasn’t until the burning of her cheek that Sora realized what had happened. Her members gasped. Yua - who was standing next to her - grabbed her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze while she shot the dirtiest look at the manager. It took all her self-control not to say and do unspeakable things to the man before her.

“Jihoon? Are you an idiot? You’re angry because the girls let themselves go and don’t look as pretty yet you leave an ugly mark on her face?” Mr. Ho motions to Sora, who’s holding back tears, a red welt forming on her cheek now.

“Makeup will cover it up just fine.” The Manager snaps back. The two clearly knew each other quite well, with how informally they talked to each other.

“That’s if you,” he turns back to Sora and points at her, “can do something right for once and make sure to cover it up everyday. You really don’t want to cause a scandal for your group, do you?”

Sora sniffles and shakes her head. “No, Mr. Park.” 

“Good.” He smiles hearing that before stepping back and checking his watch. “We will be taking full control of your bank accounts from now on and locks will be placed on the cupboards in your dorm. I don’t understand why they let you spend your funds so freely but that will end immediately seeing as how none of you have the proper self-discipline or respect for your bodies. You are idols and looking good for fans is a must. They want to see beautiful ladies performing, not dancing cows.”

Yua bit her cheek hard enough to draw blood. She wanted so badly to speak up - to tell this new manager to go jump off a cliff - but she knew if she did, one of her members would be punished, and there was no way she’d do something that could get one of the other girls hurt.

“Due to your leaders negligence, you will be spending an extra four hours here practicing all of your latest choreography. As you may or may not remember, we are planning a small tour and you need to be at your best so that you don’t make the company look bad. Is that understood?” His voice is so condescending it makes the girls sick.

“Understood, Mr. Park.” The girls murmured weakly. 

The CEO and Manager left for the time being, leaving the girls to begin warming up while they waited for the choreographer. Today was suppose to be their off day - the next two days would be spent practicing and recording more music show performances, along with preparing for appearances on a couple variety shows.

“Are you okay, Unnie?” Jenna whimpers as she timidly looks to the leader.

Sora nods and smiles, “I’m fine,”  she reassured the younger girl. Her face throbbed and was so warm to the touch but she would get used to it. 

“I’m sorry.” Jenna's eyes were teary and her lip quivered as she tried hard to hold back the sob that threatened to come out. She reached out for Sora - like a child desperate for the comfort of a parent. 

“Don’t you dare be sorry you wild thing.” Sora was stern when she said this, bringing Jenna in for a tight hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? He’s a mad man. Nobody here did anything wrong.” Sora took a few deep breaths to settle her nerves. “Let us warm up and get through this practice.” 

(Four Hours Later, Back At The Dorms)

The girls were tired, sweaty and famished. As soon as they walked through the door and into the kitchen, they saw the locks on the cabinets and a chorus of groans rang throughout the small kitchen. Chanri ran a hand through her hair and turned on her heel to head for the bathroom to shower  but gasped when she spotted a fruit basket on the table, next to it another basket of assorted breads and cheese. The other girls joined her, eyeing the food wearily.

“Oh my god! It’s like heaven!” She moans and picks up the card attached and reading it outloud.  ‘I am so sorry girls. I am working on fixing things, please be patient and keep your heads held high.  - kang yuri ♥️’

Finally some hope - the girls did have somebody on their side. CEO Yuri was a bit strict but caring and dedicated - nothing like her cousin. Though she had her cards stacked up against her and it would take a lot of careful planning before she could finally set things right for the company and the girls. 

“She’s still around!” D.UH sighs with relief. The CEO hadn’t shown her face too much the last month and the girls had wondered what happened to her. It was a huge relief for them all to know at least one of the “top dogs” of Starpunch was around and would have their back.

Sora made sure all the girls got a good portion of the food before excusing herself.  “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to eat too?” Kay asked mid-bite. 

“Just save me some. I’m going to take a shower because I feel gross.” She smiled and dismissed herself, quickly jogging up the stairs despite her legs being sore and feeling rubbery. 

As soon as she entered her room, she collapsed on the bed and immediately began to cry, hand rubbing her cheek that was red and tender from the slap earlier that day. She buried her face in her pillow and let out a pained sob, questioning whether she really had what it took to be a good leader and to be a good idol. It always felt like she was never good enough and all she did was let people down. So much weight was on her shoulders and there were times when she wasn’t sure she could hold it all anymore.

“Oppa...” She whimpered to herself, grabbing her phone and debating on calling Seven. It was a toss up between calling or not. He was busy and she didn’t want to worry him and cause more trouble for her group...but she craved some sort of comfort, and hearing his voice or seeing his face - especially that adorable smile of his - soothed her no matter what the circumstance was.

It was a horrible internal struggle Sora faced these days because she didn’t want to be too needy or clingy - it made her feel like a nuisance and slightly pathetic. What kind of leader was she if she constantly relied on others to help keep her shit together? 

With another pathetic whimper, she put her headphones in and curled up into a ball, choosing to stare at the wall for however long it took for the music to take her away to a better place.

To Be Continued...

#divin3!scenarios #my baby is hurting omg #kpop ff #peachykocnet #kpop oc group #sora is precious so this mfer needs to back the eff up already #kpop fake idol #oc gg #idol!au #idol!oc #kpop oc #luvkoc #idol!group #oc!group #oc!idol #kpop social media au #kpop au