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mintchocolateleaves · 5 years ago

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Match-Made (1/4)

Summary: Whilst spying on David one day, trying to come up with new ways to break him, Max, Nikki and Neil come to realise that the man is... married? But - of course not. There's no way that could be true. It's - it's David. Who would marry him? It seems like they're going to have to figure it out.

A/N: Y’all know I started to watch camp-camp, and this is the product of that. Hope you all enjoy. If formatting decides to fuck itself up, then here’s the AO3 link.

It had been just another one of those boring days at camp trying to keep themselves entertained. Skipping out on awful camp activities with poor, crappy resources, and trying to come up with an adventure of their own was nothing short from normal for them.

Nikki had wanted something more fun, Neil had wanted something a little less mind-numbing, and quite honestly, Max just wanted out.

Any time away from David and that overbearing intensity would be a godsend, and so leaving behind the god-awful cross-stitching camp hadn’t been a difficult decision to make.

Sure, they’d have to deal with David’s poor attempts at scolding them later, but they were going to have to hear it whether they disappeared for the day or not. The counsellor had a habit of calling them out on every ‘inappropriate’ thing. For swearing, for being mean, or cruel, or whatever else fell outside of overbearingly happy children.

Newsflash David, you’re telling kids to stop being fucking kids.

Either way, they just needed to get away from him for a while. To be in a David-free zone for just a little longer than the eight hours they slept.

“I miss Saturdays,” Nikki said, finally, as if the day had been cancelled. As if it wasn’t Monday, and they hadn’t only just had the weekend to themselves. “We always get to go into the forest on Saturdays.”

Well, technically they were in the forest now – all the fucking time, really, since they were stuck at this shitty camp – but they were allowed to roam a little further during the weekends.

“We go into the forest all the week,” Neil said, tone bordering on a whine, “I want it to be Saturday so I can go on a computer without someone telling me I’m being antisocial.”

Max shrugs his head, jumps over a log in the pathway and says, “You know why you guys miss Saturdays so much?”

He phrases it by a question, but really, he doesn’t want them to offer any answers. He just wants his friends to wait for the answer, to anticipate the scheme that might be forming in his head.

“I just said why I missed Saturdays,” Nikki says.

“Because the adults don’t have to spend all their time with us,” Max says. “Because we’re not stuck doing shitty activities, and the counsellors leave us the fuck alone as long as we’re not murdering each other.”

Nikki nods emphatically, and for a moment, it’s almost possible to see the memories of last weekend swimming through her eyes. Possible to see how they’d been left alone for a full day until she tried to throw Space-kid across the lake in the mechanised sling-shot she’d had Neil help her make.

“There’s no way we can stop that though,” Neil says after a while, and from the way his nose scrunches, it’s clear that the boy has spent time trying to figure out ways to achieve more computer time, but so far, has come up short. “We’re lucky we only have to do five days a week of activities.”

That’s alright, Max is more of the diabolical genius of the three of them anyway.

“I didn’t sign up for any of these shitty activities,” Max says, “and I’m sick to shit of being forced to do them.”

“…Revolution time?”

A sigh. “No Nikki, we tried that last week, it didn’t work.”

“Part two could be better though.”

Max appreciates the thought, honestly, he does. But the last time they revolted, he’s ended up shirtless, fighting back against the man and his other camp mates, because they’d all thought Erid a better leader than him.

Fuck that noise.

“What we need,” he continues, “is to find a way to make the counsellors agree to leave us alone.”

Nikki’s eyes shine, and she jumps forward as she realises what he means. She shakes his shoulders back and forth, ignoring the scowl she receives as Max tries to push her back. “We change the calendar so that every day is Saturday!”

Well – uh, not exactly what he meant, but the sentiment kind of stands. Sure, why the fuck not.

“Make every day Saturday.”

Neil, always the one who questions the plans, says, “I doubt we can just convince people that every day is Saturday.”

Fuck, honestly, Max thinks that they probably could if they came up with a crazy enough story about inter-dimensional time travel, and Groundhog Day. David would probably buy it, because the man’s a fucking idiot.

Convincing Gwen that the day was just repeating itself wouldn’t be so easy though. What with how often she read those werewolf fanfictions on her phone all the time, she’d go onto her email searching for any updates and immediately know the truth.

Maybe if they found a way to commandeer her phone so she wouldn’t be able to search things all day…?

He needs to stop.

“That’s a mindfuck that can wait,” Max says, “but we so could. No, we get them to leave us alone through blackmail.”

If it were anyone else but the kids at camp, talk of blackmail would be met with horror, or confusion. But here, at Camp freaking Campbell, he receives two looks of equal contemplation, considering how easy such a task would be.

It all comes down to blackmailing three people, essentially.

Quartermaster, who they kind of… don’t really need to? He tends to stick to himself, which is always good because Max is pretty sure that the man is a fucking sociopath.

Gwen, who – well, she doesn’t really care enough about the camp, so it’ll be really easy to blackmail her. They can find something easily enough – it’s always simple to narrow down what she cares about, since she doesn’t feign caring about other things.

The person who’ll be the hardest, will be David.

“Does David even have anything that we could blackmail him with though?” Nikki asks, “he’s like, so shiny and bright.”

Max scowls. “Someone like him, is bound to have some things he’s keeping secret from us.”

He still doesn’t believe that someone like that, someone so bright and happy, doesn’t keep things hidden beneath a layer of faux optimism. He’s probably got some fucked up secret that they just need to figure out.

“Maybe,” Neil says, “but it’s David.”

Max crosses his arms as if to say, he doesn’t care. Their new task of the day, is to spy on David and find a way to blackmail and ruin his life. And oh yeah, get the whole Saturday being every day thing put in place.

Honestly, just messing with David seems like it could have been the initial plan, but the others are more likely to help out if there’s a clear reason behind it.

…Well.

Actually, fuck that, he probably could have just said it. Nikki loves anything chaotic, and Max is pretty sure that Neil is still outraged over the lack of a proper lab at the camp.

“We’re going to find a way to fucking blackmail David guys,” Max says, crossing his arms. “And when we do, every day, will be fucking Saturday.”

Which leads them to now, using the other campers as a distraction, some early set disaster as a distraction, so that they can clearly search the counsellors cabin. The place has fucking air con in here.

Max resists the urge to cut the wires of the air con and puts it in mind for later instead. Why the fuck do the counsellors get to be chilled during the evenings when the rest of them are stuck in fucking tents?

Yeah, there’s a bit of a imbalance in the way they’re being treated, and Max isn’t blind to it. This is exactly why he rebels against the man.

“I ask to watch TV and I get told I’m not taking advantage of nature and my surroundings,” Neil says, as he pushes the button, the screen flicking on, greeting them with grey static.

The sound of static is like a bursting explosion, and Max leans forward, past Neil to shut the TV off before anyone hears, before the sound can give them away.

“We’re meant to be being stealthy Neil,” Nikki says, and from her, it seems almost hypocritical. Although – well, she is okay at being stealthy sometimes, he supposes.

“I don’t understand why the sound was turned up so high though,” Neil says. He pauses, “I mean, your hearing doesn’t go that bad by twenty.”

Who knows, Max thinks. His twenties are an entire lifetime away and he’s not really thinking about the quality of his hearing.

“Right,” Max says. “But we’re here for blackmail material, not a hearing test Neil, jeez.”

Neil just gives him a look, and says nothing.

But nah, loud TV isn’t a blackmail opportunity. Max reckons that Gwen turns it up so high so she can block out the sound of the camp when she’s not got to deal with them – or even to just block out David.

“Who cares,” Nikki says, and points towards the drawers by each bedside. It’s easy to tell whose side of the room is which based by which side has more sentimental crap in it.

David’s side has a photograph of the camp that’d been taken at the beginning of the summer, everyone lined up and pretending that they were happy to be in the photograph. It’s such a fake photo, but still the man has it framed, on the drawer, beside his alarm clock.

Gwen’s side doesn’t have an alarm clock, but maybe that’s because she’s sane and not a horrible morning person like David is. Always waking them up at ungodly times when quite frankly, he’d much rather they all get to sleep in.

“Nothing blackmail-y yet though,” Nikki says. With little regard for personal space, she pulls open the drawers, rifling through in a way not unlike a raccoon going through the trash.

“We’ll find something,” Max promises, standing beside her to peer into the drawers. Sometimes Nikki overlooks things that aren’t cool, or dangerous, and Max wants to make sure they don’t overlook anything.

“You keep saying that,” Neil says, “but what if we don’t find any blackmail material?”

Max pauses. Considers it. Then:

“We’ll make blackmail material then.”

Neil nods his head, as if this is perfectly logical, and not simply a dick move. Whatever, they want their Saturdays and there’s nothing else to do in this fucked up excuse for a camp anyway.

Max goes to open his mouth, pauses. Then, with the urgency of a thief knowing there’s a cop nearby, he grabs the sleeves of both Nikki and Neil, shoving his friends down and under David’s bed.

Hitting his head as he shuffles under, Neil lets out a small groan. Max resists the urge to tell him to shut the fuck up, since he also, should be shutting the fuck up.

Footsteps echo as the cabin doors swing open. Except, it doesn’t really swing open, but rather, is thrust open with far more energy than necessarily. David then, because Gwen would never open the door with such energy.

David’s voice follows suit.

For some reason, there is a hint of stress – not unhappiness, but an urgency that he shows sometimes, whenever there’s a task he wants to start but they’ve hit time delays. Which is strange, because Max hasn’t ever thought of David as someone who knows what urgency means.

“Of course, I didn’t forget,” David calls, and then, after the door closes, his voice quieter: “Oh dang, I can’t believe I forgot to pick up the flowers.”

Flowers?

Max shares a look between his friends. David doesn’t usually pick up flowers, but rather, heads into the meadows to pick his own. He’d done it when they’d heard one of the women in town were ill, and another time when he’d –

Oh god, he’s totally got a date, right?

David’s a fucking romantic like that, of course he’d want to give someone flowers. God, even if they don’t have any

Their camp counsellor grabs his phone from his pockets, dials a number and holds it up to his ears. It’s impossible to hear the dial tone from under the bed, so Max reckons he’s going to have to find a way to infer everything from just David’s side of the conversation.

Not that it’s very difficult to do. David doesn’t really hide conversations.

“Oh hi Mr. Foster, it’s David, from Camp Campbell.” There’s a pause, and then, sheepishly, as he rubs the back of his neck, “yeah, I completely forgot the pick up for the bouquet was yesterday, I was caught up with activities–”

Another pause.

“You didn’t hold the bouquet back even the extra da–” David runs a hand through wispy red hair, “yeah, I know you don’t hold them back for customers who don’t pick them up but this is me – you did my wedd-”

Max has to slap a hand over Nikki’s mouth to stop the noise that builds against her tongue. Beside him, Neil leans up to pinch himself. David having had a wedding implies marriage – and who the fuck would marry that asshole?

“No, I know. I know. Can I get a bouquet made quickly then?” Another pause. “I understand it’s extra, but it’ll be our anniversary, and I–”

For a moment, there is silence. Then, a long, relieved silence is breathed into the air, almost like a dying gasp, almost like a gulp of someone who’s forgotten how to inhale.

“You’re the best sir,” David says, “-yeah, if you still have those lilac peonies that we had at the wedding, I just know she’ll love them. Yeah, thanks sir. I’ll pick them up tomorrow morning. No delays this time.”

The phone call must end, because David slips it back into his pocket, takes a moment to smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt.

“That’s all dealt with then,” he says, “now back to today’s activities!”

Max can hardly keep himself quiet for the time it takes David to leave the cabin. He doesn’t know how the others manage it. They wait until the door is closed again, until they hear footsteps fade away into nothingness.

Then, slowly, the three campers slide out from under the bed.

“What the fuck was that?” Max says.

“David never mentioned being married before,” Nikki says, “I wonder if his wife knows how to fight a bear! I’d only marry someone who could fight a bear.”

Neil doesn’t say anything. When Max looks at him, the boy shrugs his shoulders, as if there are no words to decipher how the knowledge has thrown him.

“No, but seriously,” Max continues, crossing his arms. “Who the fuck would marry David?”

It looks like they’re going to have to find out.

#camp camp #cc david #cc max #cc neil #cc nikki #cc gwen #gwenvid #mywriting #fic: match-made #this fuckin thing exists now I guess - hope y'all enjoy it? but who knows #I just found the concept fun

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douxreviews · 6 years ago

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Russian Doll - Series Review

"Life is like a box of timelines. You feel me?"

Yes, it's Groundhog Day. But I'm okay with that. Because Russian Doll, an eight-episode half-hour Netflix series, is much more than a Groundhog Day retread.

(And I won't spoil you in my opener. Although I definitely will under the adorable spoiler kitten.)

Why did I love this series? It's not just that I could watch Natasha Lyonne in anything. She's wry, she's dry, she's incredibly funny as jaded, sarcastic and emotionally exhausted Nadia Vulvokov ("It's like Volvo, but with more letters and dyslexic") who becomes stuck in a time loop on her thirty-sixth birthday. It's just that it's so enjoyable watching Nadia figure out what is happening to her, and why. Russian Doll not only stays good, it keeps getting better, right through to the satisfying ending. I finished it last night and I could sit down right now and watch the whole thing again.

The loop begins in the bathroom at the birthday party that is being thrown for Nadia by her friends Max and Lizzy. Each time Nadia dies, she returns at the sink, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. Just the décor of the bathroom itself is enough to clue in the viewer that this is no average story; it is shiny and black and features a decorative glowing purple vulva on the door, and a door handle shaped like a gun.

Initially, Nadia seems self-absorbed and uncaring. She was unable to commit to a relationship with her boring ex-boyfriend John, who hangs around the party hoping to get her back, and it is very like Nadia to keep leaving a party that is being thrown specifically for her. And yet, as we go through the time loops with her, we learn that she cares about homeless people and homeless cats, and that she carries with her an immense load of guilt about the death of her mother.

There is an absolutely mad amount of metaphor permeating Russian Doll. My favorites are that Nadia is a game developer who designs characters that get stuck in certain levels, like what is happening to her, and of course, the title of the series is a reference to Matryoshka nesting dolls. You get the point.

If you haven't tried this series yet, I encourage you to stop reading right here and go check it out. It's really wonderful. And I'm going to delve into spoilers below the adorable spoiler kitten.

It's fascinating how Nadia proceeds in her investigation of the time loop. Was it the drug in the joint Max kept handing her? No. Could it be ghosts in the creepy old yeshiva building? No, but I loved the visit to the rabbi. Is Nadia herself simply crazy? Let's check in with the therapist that raised her. Is she being punished because she's a bad person? Am I a bad person, she asks all of her friends. Clearly, she is not.

The part of Russian Doll that I found the most intriguing, and interestingly, the most unlike Groundhog Day, was how Nadia's loop was tied into Alan's (Charlie Barnett), a man who is essentially her complete opposite. He is as controlled as Nadia is freewheeling, as tight as she is loose. (And I don't mean sexually... although actually, that works, too.) The music that is playing when Nadia re-sets in the strange black bathroom is the bouncy and appropriate "Gotta Get Up." For Alan, alone in his pristine white bathroom, it's classical music. And yes, black and white bathrooms, I get it.

What an incredibly cute meet. I mean, there they are in an elevator full of terrified people plummeting to their deaths, and Nadia and Alan notice each other calmly waiting to die. I enjoyed their debates about morality and existence and the multiverse as they tried to figure it all out. Especially how Nadia decided at one point that she and Alan were the same person and stabbed him in order to find out if she would feel his pain. And now that I'm typing that sentence, I realized that Nadia and Alan did feel each other's pain, that that was the point, pun intended.

Because of course, and by the end it made sense, the two of them got caught in the same time loop because they were initially supposed to save each other's lives. When they repeated the initial loop knowing the truth, they were able to save each other as well as break free of their old emotional chains.

The changes that started creeping into the later loops freaked me out – the disappearing fish, the rotting fruit, the broken and disappearing mirrors. The intersection of Alan's cheating girlfriend Beatrice (Orange is the New Black's Dascha Polanco) and Nadia's one-night-stand Mike (Jeremy Bobb), was so clever. The way that young Nadia kept appearing and causing adult Nadia's death was also freaky. Not to mention the flashback watermelons. Ruth, the woman that raised Nadia, was a therapist. You'd think Nadia would have explored her feelings about her mentally ill mother sooner, but okay.

A couple of other things, and I'm done. Gotta love a series that segues into a discussion of art criticism. I thought Mike's line about himself was so fascinating that I wrote it down: "Nobody chooses me. I'm the hole where a choice should be." The early sequence where Nadia kept falling down the stairs was supposed to be funny, but I found it disturbing. And I appreciate Nadia's humanity in doing so, but how could she let a strange homeless man with his own scissors cut her hair?

Will there be a second season? How could there be? Any theories?

Four out of four broken mirrors.

Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.

#Russian Doll #Natasha Lyonne #Nadia Vulvokov #Russian Doll Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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you-never-liked-this-sweater · 7 years ago

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Okay so I've seen stories about this for treebros but I haven't found a reader x connor story like this. So yeah anyway i want to request a story like groundhog day where reader is trapped in a loop during the first day of school and has to try and stop connor from killing himself. if you could write that for me i would love you forever!

Here you go! It’s a little longer than my usual stories so it’s a bit of a read, but I hope you like it!

Connor Murphy x Reader: Not Again

Word Count: 9302

Summary:Reader wakes up the morning of their first day of senior year, and finds themself stuck in a time loop and the only way to break the cycle is to save Connor Murphy.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of suicide

Your alarmblared and you groggily reached out from under your covers for your phone,slapping your hand around on the nightstand until you found it. After switchingoff the alarm you pulled yourself out of bed and walked to your closet. Youpicked out a loose shirt featuring one of your favourite musicals, a light bluehoodie and some jeans. As you were getting dressed you heard your mother callfor you from the kitchen, “Honey, breakfast is ready!”

You quicklypulled on your clothes, you grabbed your bookbag off your desk chair andhurried downstairs.

Your motherwas busying herself at the sink, doing up some dishes as she smiled at you overher shoulder, “First day of senior year! Are you excited?”

“Soexcited,” You said, trying to feign enthusiasm for your mother in hopes thatshe wouldn’t pressure you to talk about your school life further. Sitting downat the island in the kitchen, you pulled your breakfast toward you whichconsisted of eggs, bacon, bread, muffins, and an assortment of other foods. Yourmother rarely made you large breakfasts like this since you didn’t eat much inthe morning, but it was a sweet gesture for your first day of school. You ateas much as you could before you slid out of your seat, pulling your bag uparound your shoulder, “The bus is coming soon so I should get going. Thanks forbreakfast.”

“Have agreat day at school!” She called as you walked towards the front door, pullingon your shoes before you walk outside towards the bus stop.

When youmade it to the end of your driveway, you saw a familiar face waiting at yourbus stop. You smiled at him as you approached, “Jared, hey.”

“Y/N!What’s crackalackin?” Jared grins, turning to you as the bus approached.

“Mom mademe one of those giant breakfasts again. You know, the ones that I can neverfinish?” You say, readying yourself mentally for the noisy bus ride to school.

“I don’tknow why you hate it when she does that. Breakfast is in fact the mostimportant meal of the day,” Jared says, looking up at the bus as it pulled up besidethe two of you.

You bothclimbed up onto the bus, taking your usual seats at the very back of the bus oneither side of the emergency door. You looked at him as you settled into yourseat, “I thought you had a car now. Not driving to school?”

“My dad isgetting it painted for me,” He says, tossing his bookbag onto the seat besidehim, “It was supposed to be ready for today but it’s still in the shop so…”

“Oh,” Yousay, looking out the window of the bus as you pulled away from your stop, “Whatcolour?”

“A nicepepe green,” He says, a thoughtful smile on his face.

“You meanthat stupid frog meme? Really, Jared?” You shook your head and shared a laugh.

The bus ride was relatively normal, a mixtureof high school and junior high kids clashing, yelling, the throwing of papersand items over seats. As usual, you tried to tune it out, instead listening toJared drone on about the latest conspiracy theories him and his internetbuddies cooked up over the summer.

As the busfinally pulled up to the school Jared nudged your foot with his, making youlook up at him. He flashed you a smile that you knew all too well as hegestured at the back door, “Do you think I could open the emergency door androll out before the bus driver catches me?”

“Do youreally want to get detention on the first day, Jared?” Your laughter bubbledover as you stood up in your seat and filed off the bus with the rest of thestudents.

“You’reright, too risky. Maybe I could attempt my escape plan on the last day ofschool? Then I’d have nothing to lose,” Jared says, staring off into thedistance before looking back to you, tapping you on your shoulder, “Anyway, I’mgonna go find Evan. Catch you later?”

“Sure,” Yousay, watching him rush off down the sidewalk to where Evan’s bus would be droppinghim off. You pulled your bag up closer to you as you began walking inside ofthe building towards the main office so that you could figure out who yourhomeroom teacher would be for the year. The names and homerooms were posted onthe walls outside the front office and you took your time finding your name.Ms. Donahue in room 218. You made a mental note of your homeroom before youbegan making your way there to get your schedule for the first semester. As youwalked, you noticed Connor Murphy walking absentmindedly down the hall in yourdirection, his long dark curls framing his face. He looked nice with long hair,you noted to yourself, smiling slightly as he passed you.

You lookedup and noticed Jared and Evan standing a few feet ahead of you. Jared wasstaring past you, a large grin on his face, “Hey Connor, loving the new hairlength! Very ‘school-shooter’ chic.”

Jared’swords made your entire body stiffen. You peeked down the hall where Connor wasstanding, staring directly at Jared in a look of contempt.

“I wasjust…kidding,” Jared says, visibly uncomfortable with his sour the mood hadturned, “It was a joke.”

“Yeah, no,it was funny. I’m laughing, can’t you tell,” Connor said, voice monotone beforehe leaned toward Jared slightly, eyes narrowing in annoyance, “Am I notlaughing hard enough for you?”

Jared’snose turned up as a scoffed, dismissing Connor as he turned off down thehallway, “You’re such a freak.”

A silenceswept through the hallway and you looked between Connor and Evan uneasily. Evanrubbed his arm and let out a nervous chuckle, shaky as he glanced up at you.

Connor wentrigid at the noise and his eyes snapped to Evan, “What the fuck are youlaughing at?”

Evan lookedto him in confusion, “What?”

The tallerboy stepped toward him, anger rising, “Stop fucking laughing at me!”

Evan lookedat his hands, picking at the hem of his shirt as he looked back up at Connor, “What?I’m not-”

Connor wasfuming at this point, “You think I’m a freak?”

“N-No- no,I don’t-” Evan starting shrinking back slightly, eyes widening.

He walkedto Evan rapidly, “I’m not the freak!”

“But Iwasn’t laughing-” Evan held up his hands in defense.

“You’re thefucking freak!” Connor shoved Evan to the ground as he rushed past him, headingoff to some random location. As soon as Evan hit the ground you were pulledfrom your stupor and hurried to his side.

“Are youokay?” You held out a hand to him and he took it carefully, pulling himself tohis feet as he used you for support.

“I’m fine,”He muttered, looking down at his hands.

“Hey, I’msorry about my brother!” You looked over to see Zoe murphy approaching quickly,eyes wide with worry, “I saw him push you, he’s a psychopath…”

Evan lookedup at her like a deer caught in headlights, unable to say a word.

“Evan, right?”She asked, watching him curiously.

You pulledyour bag close to yourself and hurried off down the hallway toward yourhomeroom, not wanting to get tangled up in someone else’s drama.

When you reached your homeroom, you saw Connor sitting at theback, leaning his head against the window. You quickly averted your eyes,hoping to not get on his bad side as you sat down at the front of the room asfar away from him as possible. You tried to tune out the speech the teachergave about school rules and safety protocols in case of fires, lockdowns orearthquakes. Your classes consisted of teachers that didn’t really care, tryingto get to know their students for the year through ‘team building exercises’.

But luckily the day ended just as fast as it had begun andyou found yourself walking to the front of the school to get on your bus. Asyou passed the computer lab you heard the tail end of a conversation, loudvoices nearly screaming at each other inside. Suddenly Connor pushed open the door of the lab, eyes burning withtears, a paper crumpled up in the palm of his hand, “Fuck you!”

Evan was rushing after him, hands outstretched desperately, “No,no-n-no, I need that back, so please- can you just- can you please give itback!?”

You didn’t know what was happening and quickly sped after themout the side door of the school towards the student parking lot. When you madeit out the door you say Connor driving away and Evan stood frozen in the middleof the parking lot, staring after him. You moved to him quickly, “Evan, whathappened?”

He just shook his head and walked away, clearly not in themood to talk to anyone as he hurried and got onto his bus. You watched him gobefore you looked in the direction Connor had driven off in, your browfurrowing in concern. Slowly you made you way to your bus and got onto it,moving to your seat at the back and settling into the familiar cushioning.

Jared was already in his seat, digging through his bag. Whenhe noticed you, he perked up and whipped out a paper from his bag, visiblydistressed about it, “Mr. Harris assigned a paper on the first day back! Canyou believe this shit?”

“You’re in advanced English, Jared. I honestly expectednothing less,” You tried to smile, but you were still thinking about the tenseexchange between Evan and Connor.

Jared didn’t seem to notice and continued prattling on abouthow unfair the school system was. Then somehow the conversation moved toMandela effects and Jared talked about the name of a family of bears for asolid thirty minutes.

When the bus pulled up to your stop, you hopped up from youseat faster than Jared, and sped off the bus, in a hurry to just get home. Yousent him a smile over your shoulder as you ran up to your house, “I’ll see youtomorrow?”

“I’ll drive you to school!” He called after you, giving awave, “I’ll pick you up at 7:45. Don’t keep me waiting or I’ll leave withoutyou.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way up to your house,opening the unlocked door and hurrying up the stairs to your bedroom. As youclosed your bedroom door and tossed your bag to the side you heard your motherdownstairs calling for you.

Instead of laying down like you had planned, you moved backto your bedroom door and opened it, stepping out into the hallway to see yourmother at the bottom of the stairs, “How was your first day at school?”

“It was okay…” You say with a shrug, not wanting to mentionthe fight you’d witnessed.

“Oh, is there anything special you want for supper tonight?”She asked, her smile turning into a small frown, “Your father won’t be joiningus so I’ll save the roast for another night.”

“Dad’s not coming for supper?” Your brow furrowed inconfusion, knowing he only had a shift at the hospital until four today.

Your mother sighed, putting her hands on her hips as shelooked away from you, “A boy was rushed to the ER and your father decided tostay and help.”

“That’s awful…” Your brow furrowed as you stared at her, aknot forming in your stomach, “Was it really bad enough that dad needed to help?”

Your mother looked like she didn’t want to discuss it withyou and brushed out her shirt gently, “Your father is friends with the boy’sfather and Larry wanted to know that his son would be in good hands.”

You went pale, freezing at the top of the stairs. Very slowlyyou asked, “Larry…Murphy?”

Your mother nodded slowly and looked up at you, “I know thatConnor goes to your school. I wasn’t sure if you knew him or not…”

“What happened?” You asked quickly, “Is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know more than that, dear,” She nibbled her lip,“Your father only called to let me know he would be home late and told me thatthe Murphys had brought Connor in. I can tell you as soon as I find anythingout, alright?” She tried to be reassuring but nothing like this had everhappened before and she seemed unsure as to how to handle the situation.

You numbly walked into your room, mind racing as you thoughtabout how you had just saw Connor about an hour ago. He looked so upset inthose moments that you began to suspect what happened. You looked at yourlaptop which was sitting on your desk, moving to it to ask Evan what hadhappened between him and Connor in the computer lab. As you sat down at yourdesk, you saw the time in big numbers at the top of the screen change to4:30pm.

Yousucked in a sharp breath, jolting upright in your bed as you alarm startedblaring beside you. You quickly switched it off, heart still hammering in your chest as yourmind raced to recall every detail of what had just occurred. You glanced downat your phone, still gripped in your hand and saw the date. It was the firstday of school. It wasn’t real.

Youcollapsed back onto your bed and flung an arm over your eyes, trying to calmyour racing heart. Everything seemed so vivid, so real…

“Honey,breakfast is ready!”

Yourentire body stiffened in your bed, the familiar sentence from your dream makingyou jolt. You shook it off and slipped out of bed, grabbing your outfit for theday before you got dressed and grabbed your bag off your chair, hurryingdownstairs to the kitchen.

Youfound your mother over the sink, doing dishes calmly before she smiled over hershoulder at you, “First day of senior year! Are you excited?”

Youstared at her, your dream still fresh in your mind as you sat at the table andlooked down at your breakfast. The same eggs, bacon, toast and muffins from yourdream covered the table. You felt sick and slowly pushed back the food fromyour spot at the table, “Sorry, I’m just feeling a little off today. I thinkI’m just going to head to the bus stop early today. I’ll see you after school…”

“Have a great day at school!” Your mothercalled after you as you hurried out the door and towards the bus stop.

Whenyou got outside, you could see Jared at the foot of your driveway, waitingpatiently for the bus. You slowly opened your mouth, “Hi, Jared…”

“Y/N!What’s crackalackin?” Jared grins, turning to face you happily.

Theunusual greeting from your dream once again took you off guard and the wholething started to seem weirder and weirder. You looked down the road for the busbefore looking back to Jared, “I’ve been having the weirdest morning…”

“Oh?”He asked, eyebrows popping up curiously.

As youstared at him, you knew how wild his mind can get and if you told him aboutyour dream, you would just be enabling him. Especially since this whole thingwas likely just a coincidence. You shook your head as the bus began pulling upbeside you, “It’s nothing. I just…I expected you to drive your car to schooltoday.”

“My dadis getting it painted for me,” Jared says as he hops onto the bus, moving tothe back with you like usual before he flops into his seat, “It was supposed tobe ready for today but it’s still in the shop so…”

Yourbrow furrowed and you looked over at him, slowly asking, “Pepe green, right?”

“Yeah,how’d you know?” He quirks a smile.

“Just aguess…” You trail off, looking out the window at the passing houses, wonderingif maybe you were going crazy. When your bus finally reached the school, Jarednudged your foot with his, and you looked up at him to see him gesturingtowards the door. Before he could say anything, you cut in, “You’re not rollingout of the back of the bus, Jared.”

Yourwords caught him off guard but he shook his head, a grin forming on his face,“You know me way too well, Y/N.” The two of you got up from your seats andfiled off he bus with the other students. “In any case, you’re right, toorisky. Maybe I could attempt my escape plan on the last day of school? Then I’dhave nothing to lose,” Jared says, pausing a moment before tapping you on yourshoulder, “Anyway, I’m gonna go find Evan. Catch you later?”

“Sure,”You say quietly, watching him run off in the same direction he had in yourdream. Trying to brush everything off so far as a coincidence, you made yourway to the lobby of the school in hopes of finding out who your homeroomteacher was so that you could at least hide in the classroom for a while untilclasses started. When you got to the papers posted outside the main office,your eyes scanned them until they landed on your name. You followed your nameoff to the side and you felt your stomach churn at the sight of the homeroom.

Ms.Donahue in room 218.

Thesame homeroom you were assigned to in your dream. You finally came to theconclusion that maybe you were goinginsane and you were just hallucinating the day over and over again. As youturned to go to your classroom, you saw Connor heading towards you. Despite notknowing him, you felt relief in knowing that he was okay. Hesitantly, youreached out to him, getting his attention, “Connor, hi.”

He seemeda little confused as to why you were talking to him, brow furrowed, “Since whendo you talk to me?”

“Sorry,I just noticed that we were in the same homeroom,” You say quickly, “Ms.Donahue in room 218.”

“Great.I don’t have to check it myself. Thanks,” He says in a monotone voice before heturns on his heels and begins walking towards the classroom. That’s when Jarednotices the two of you, a large grin on his face. You felt your heart stop amoment before the words even came out of his mouth.

“Hey Connor,loving the new hair length! Very ‘school-shooter’ chic.” A beat passes. Thatsame uncomfortable amount of uncomfortable silence from your dream, “I wasjust…kidding. It was a joke.”

“Yeah,no, it was funny. I’m laughing, can’t you tell,” Connor said before his voiceraised angrily, “Am I not laughing hard enough for you?”

Onceagain, Jared dismissed him, waving a hand at him as he turned and walked away,“You’re such a freak.”

Evanseemed just as uncomfortable as the last time you had witnessed the event, andhe let out that same nervous chuckle.

“Whatthe fuck are you laughing at?”

“What?”Evan looked to Connor in confusion.

Youwatched as Connor’s anger rose, “Stop fucking laughing at me!”

Evanwas fidgeting now, retreating backwards slightly, “What? I’m not-”

“Youthink I’m a freak?”

“N-No-no, I don’t-”

“I’m not the freak!”

“But Iwasn’t laughing-”

“You’rethe fucking freak!”

Insteadof rushing to Evan’s side, you quickly followed Connor, glancing back to seeZoe hurrying to Evan’s side just like before. “Hey, I’m sorry about my brother!I saw him push you, he’s a psychopath…”

Youlooked back ahead of you and made your way to your homeroom where you assumedConnor would be. Just like in your dream, you found Connor sitting at the back,leaning his head against the window. Hesitantly, you walked over to him,sitting down beside him. Before you could open your mouth to speak he cut youoff, “Go bother someone else.”

Yourface flushed and you looked away before you slowly looked back to him, “I um…Idon’t think you’re a freak.”

Connorlet out a snort, as if he thought the statement was funny, before he turned tolook at you, “You’d be the first.”

After amoment you smiled gently, “I’m Y/N.”

“Iknow.” He says, looking back out the window, “We’ve been in the same homeroomsince seventh grade.”

Youquickly spoke up, “I-I know, I just wasn’t sure if you knew because we’ve nevertalked before.”

“Iwonder why,” He grumbles, closing his eyes as if trying to tune you out.

Slowlyyou looked back to the front of the classroom and slumped in your chair. Once again,the familiar speech the teacher gave about school rules and safety protocols incase of fires, lockdowns or earthquakes came from the teacher’s mouth. Yourfollowing classes throughout the day were exactly the same as the dream youhad, which seemed more and more likely to not be a dream. And when the dayended and you headed down the hallway to get on your bus, you heard the sameangry conversation from the computer lab. Once again Connor pushed open thedoor of the lab, tears in his eyes, paper in hand, “Fuck you!”

Evanfollowed him closely, “No, no-n-no, I need that back, so please- can you just-can you please give it back!?”

Youfollowed them like the time before, leaving the school to see Connor fleeing inhis car and Evan standing broken in the middle of the parking lot. Youhesitantly made your way to the bus and got on, trying your best to ignore thepeople around you as you sat down in your seat, including Jared who noticed youthe instant you sat down.

You putin your headphones and tried to drown out the voices, closing your eyes as yourode out the bus ride in your own little bubble. When the bus finally pulled upto your stop, you got out of your seat and walked to your house, trying to get insideas fast as you could.

Themoment you got into your house, you stopped in the front room, shoes still onyour feet. Slowly, you walked into the kitchen where your mother was hanging upthe phone. Before she could say anything, you spoke up, “Did something happenwith dad at work today?”

Shelooked to you in shock before slowly speaking, “Yes, how did you know?”

“Whathappened?” You asked, fingers gripping your bag’s strap nervously, anticipatingthe words that you knew would come.

“A boywas rushed to the ER and your father decided to stay and help,” You mothersays, obviously uncomfortable talking about the situation.

You letout a breath, eyes closing, “Was it Connor?”

“…Howdid you know?” She asks quietly, brow furrowing in confusion.

Youshook your head and turned away from her, “I’m not hungry. You can makewhatever you want for supper.”

“Areyou okay, dear? I know that Connor goes to your school. I wasn’t sure if youknew him or not…” She said, calling after you.

“I’m fine,” You say back, but your mind was reeling atthis point and you were most definitely not fine. You pushed open yourbedroom door and rushed inside, eyes scanning over your room before they landedon your laptop. You tossed your schoolbag beside your desk as you sat down,opening up your computer as your eyes locked on the time displayed at the topof the screen. Slowly you watched the time change to 4:30pm.

Youreyes flashed open to the sound of your alarm and you got out of bed and shutoff the alarm instantly, running your hands back through your hair as you beganpacing in your room. Evidently this wasn’t a dream and you were somehow relivingthe same day over and over again. You quickly got dressed and grabbed your bag,running downstairs and into the front room, pulling your shoes on. You stuckyour head through the doorway of the kitchen, “Sorry, Mom, not feelingbreakfast today, I’m gonna head to Jared’s.”

“Alright,dear. Have a great day at school!” She called after you as you left the house,door closing behind you.

Quicklyyou began the trek down your driveway and over a house to Jared’s. You walkedup to the door and knocked quickly, impatiently waiting for a response. Youheard shuffling inside and Jared opened the door, wearing the same outfit hehad been wearing the last two loops through the day.

“Y/N!What’s crackalackin?” Jared lights up when he realizes it’s you at the door.

“Whatdo you know about time loops?” You cut to the chase instantly.

“Timeloops?” He asked, brow furrowing.

“Like…aday repeating over and over again?” You asked, trying to explain what youmeant.

Jaredrolled his eyes, “I know what a time loop is, Y/N. I meant…why are you suddenly so curious about them?”

You letout a breath and your eyes eased, “Because I think I’m stuck in one.”

Hiseyebrows shot up and his eyes widened before he started squinting at you, “Iwas excited for a second there. You almost got me, Y/N.”

“No,really,” You say, almost pleading for him to listen to you, “I know I mess withyou about this kind of supernatural shit but I’m serious.” You paused a momentbefore you say, “Your car was supposed to be ready for school today but it’sstill in the shop, right? You’re getting it painted ‘pepe green’.”

Jaredslowly looks inside behind him and grabs his bookbag off the floor before heushers you out of his house and down towards your bus stop. When you both reachthe bus stop, he turns to you with curious eyes, “How did you know that?”

“I toldyou already,” You say, crossing your arms, “Time is repeating itself over andover again and I have no idea why. This is my third time reliving this day. Atfirst I thought it was just a weird dream but…”

“Okay,so lets say that hypothetically you are in a temporal loop,” He says, lookingto you in thought, “When does your day reset?”

You letout a breath, relieved that Jared wasn’t going to dismiss you, “At 4:30pmexactly. And then I wake up in my bed this morning like the whole day neverhappened.”

“Do youhave any idea why?” He asks, looking up at the bus pulls up beside you.

The twoof you hurry onto the bus and sit at the back like usual before you turn tohim, “I don’t know…”

“Usuallytemporal loops occur when something needs to be corrected,” Jared says as if itwas common knowledge, “So something happens today that you need to fix in orderto break the cycle.”

“Likewhat? What am I looking for?” You ask, crossing your legs on the seat as youturn your body to face him.

“Itcould be anything,” He says with a shrug.

“That’snot helpful, Jared,” You cringe, leaning your head to the side against theseat, “So much bad shit happens today. How do I know what I have to fix?”

“Isthere anything that stands out to you?” He questions, gesturing to the rest ofthe bus, “Anything about today that you wishyou could change? Maybe something worse than everything else?”

After amoment it slowly dawned on you and you looked up at Jared, “Connor…”

At thesound of his name, Jared’s face scrunches up, “What does hot topic do?”

Youlook up to the front of the bus as it stops in front of the school before youlook back to Jared, “I know what I need to do. Jared, you’re a lifesaver.” Youstood up and began hurrying off the bus but before you do, you glance back atJared, “And don’t even think about rolling out the back door of the bus. It’snot worth it.”

Hegives you an odd look but he disappears from view when you exit the bus and runinside to the office. You stand in front of the homeroom assignment papers inanticipation of Connor’s arrival. Eventually you see him coming down thehallway towards the office and your eyes light up, a smile on your face.

When hecatches sight of your thrilled expression he hesitates and glances behindhimself as if you were looking past him at someone else. Very slowly he makeshis way to the office, brow furrowed in confusion as to why you would be soexcited to see him.

“Connor,”You say, a wide smile on your face, “Hi.”

“Sincewhen do you talk to me?” He asked, eyes narrowing curiously.

“Sorry,I just wanted to say that I really like your hair. Did you grow it out over thesummer?” You asked, looking up at him warmly.

Connor’seyes eased slightly, “Yeah, I uh…I did.”

“Itsuits you,” Your smile widens and you swear you can see the corners of hismouth twitching up in the slightest.

That’swhen you noticed Jared a few feet away, an amused grin on his face, “HeyConnor, loving the new hair length! Very ‘school-shooter’ chic.”

“Jared!”You snapped, grabbing Jared’s attention.

Jaredlooked at you with wide eyes and then looked up at Connor, realizing you knewwhat was about to happen and it didn’t end well. He cleared his throat andmuttered a quick, “I was just…kidding,” before he hurried off down the hall.

You letout a breath and looked up to Connor, surprised to see a look of distaste onhis face. He looked down at you, eyes narrowed again, “Are you friends withhim?”

Youstared up at him, brows drawing together, “What?”

“Areyou friends with Kleinman?” He repeated, eyes burning with rage, clearlygetting worked up, “You planned that didn’t you? You waited for me so you twocould pull this little stunt-”

“No,Connor, I-” Your eyes widened and you reached out for him quickly.

He cutyou off when he stormed away, shoving Evan out of the way as he passed him. Youstood there staring after Connor, watching Zoe rush to Evan’s side as Connordisappeared into the classroom. You buried your face in your hands as yougroaned in annoyance. After a moment you rushed after Connor and walked intohomeroom, sitting beside him at his desk at the very back.

“Ididn’t mean to make you upset. Jared can be a dick sometimes,” You say, lookingover at him.

Hedidn’t say anything and just stared out the window.

“I’msorry…” You let out a breath and looked to the front of the classroom.

Therest of the school day passed the same as the time before. Homeroom. Classes.The fight by the computer lab. Running outside after Evan and Connor. Evanrefusing to talk to you about what happened.

On thebus you slid down in your seat, still upset about how the day went. You lookedup at Jared as he got on the bus, “This is going to be harder than I thought.”

“Whatdo you mean?” Jared asked, sitting in the seat across from you.

“Connoris impossible to talk to. He won’t listen to me.” You slouched forward,forehead pressed into the seat in front of you, “I don’t know how to do this…”The bus pulled away from the school and you began your trek back home.

“Iguess my comment this morning didn’t help, huh?” Jared smiled sheepishly,rubbing the back of his neck.

“Youreally need to stop fucking with him,” You looked over at Jared, a frown onyour face, “He kills himself tonight. You know that?”

Jaredpales, and his smile is wiped from his face, “…what?”

“That’swhat I’m trying to stop,” You say, closing your eyes, “He gets rushed to the ERand my dad tries to help and then at exactly 4:30pm his heart stops and timeresets.”

“Jesus…”

Therest of the bus ride was silent and when it finally pulled up to your stop, youstepped off the bus with Jared. You stared up at your house, eyes easing, “Idon’t want to go inside…”

“Youdon’t have to,” Jared says, sitting down on your lawn, patting the spot besidehim, “We can stay out here until your time resets again.

You letout a breath and sat on the grass beside him, laying back and staring up at theclouds that drifted across the bright blue sky. Your brow furrowed, “I don’tknow how to fix this. He won’t talk to me. I try to be nice and it justbackfires.”

Jaredlays back beside you, staring up at the sky as well, “He’s fucked up, Y/N. Idon’t know if there’s any way you canfix this.”

“I don’tthink he’s fucked up. He just…he needs someone to be there for him, I think,”You said quietly, closing your eyes as you mulled over the day’s events. Aftera few moments you lifted your phone up in front of your eyes. 4: 28pm. You letout a shaky breath and dropped your arm back to your side, “I’m scared, Jared.”

“Hey,”He placed a hand on your and you looked up at him as he smiled reassuringly,“You’ve got me, right?”

“Right…”You smiled back, but it was empty.

Your days continued like this so many times that you lostcount. It seemed like weeks at this point. Repeating your morning routine,explaining everything to Jared, trying to help Connor. But every attempt endedwith the phone call, the news and those words from your mother just beforeeverything reset at 4:30pm. You had attempted to deal with the situation from alot of angles. Anything from trying to stop Connor from going to school, tofollowing him home afterwards. Nothing ever worked. And at this point, youdidn’t know what else to try.

Youralarm sounded but you remained in bed, not even bothering to switch it off. Youstared up at your ceiling, listening to the noise of your alarm repeat over andover until you hear your mother downstairs, “Honey, breakfast is ready!”

Slowlyyou picked yourself up and out of bed, numbly turning off the alarm. You stoodin front of your closet, staring in at all of your clothing. Eventually youreyes landed on a cute outfit your mother had gotten you over the summer. Itlooked like something you would wear on a date. A date you had never been on. Itwasn’t something you would regularly wear. Not because you didn’t like it, butbecause you never had the confidence to do so. You stared at it a moment, beforeyou grabbed it and pulled it on. Deciding that if you were trapped in thisloop, you would at least like it the way you wanted to.

Youpulled it on, admiring yourself in the mirror before you did your hair andgrabbed your bag, stuffing a blanket into it before rushing downstairs to greetyour mother, “Morning, Mom.”

“Goodmorning to you too, hun,” Your mother smiled over her shoulder at you, “Firstday of senior year! Are you excited?”

“Ofcourse. Only have your first day of senior year once, right?” You asked,grabbing some of the food she had laid out.

“Youlook cute today,” Your mother notes as she finishes up the dishes.

“I feelcute,” You say, glancing at the key rack which hung by the front door,“Do you mind if I drive today?”

“Isuppose you can use the car,” Your mother says slowly, turning to face you,“Just be careful, okay?”

“Iwill,” You walk over and grab the keys, sending your mom a smile as you headtowards the door, “I’m gonna head out. Thanks for breakfast, I love you.”

“I loveyou too,” Your mom smiles brightly, “Have a great day at school!”

Whenyou get outside you rush to your mother’s car, hopping in and starting it up.You back down the driveway to the bus stop and roll down your window, “Hey,Kleinman, get in!”

“Y/N!What’s crackalackin?” Jared beams as he gets into the passenger seat, “Drivingthe mom-car today?”

“I’mstuck in an endless loop. I thought I’d at least mix it up every once in awhile,” You say, tired of explaining the situation to him over and over again.

“What?”Jared asks in confusion as you pull out of your driveway and begin your trip toschool.

“We’vebeen over this, Jared. I’m in a time loop. I have to stop Connor from killinghimself,” You say, dismissing the look of shock on his face, “I can’t do it.I’ve been trying for weeks. So, I give up. I’m just trying to have the most funI can, at this point.”

Hestared at you, brow furrowing, “Wait, are you serious?”

“Ofcourse not, Jare-bear. I’m messing with you,” You shove his arm playfully, “Youbelieve that crap way too easily. I just wanted to drive today.”

You smiledat him as he rolled his eyes, reaching down to the radio and blasting themusic. The rest of the drive to the school was spent listening to the radio.When you finally pulled into the parking lot you looked over at Jared, “Andhere we are. Have a great day, huh, Jared?”

“Whatever,Y/N.” Jared gets out of the car as he smirks, “I’m… gonna go find Evan. Catchyou later?”

“Sure,”You beam and get out of your car, leaning against the driver door as you watchedJared disappear down the sidewalk in search of Evan.

Youstayed there in the parking lot, watching the other cars pull up until youfinally noticed Connor’s car. You didn’t know what you were expecting to feelwhen you saw him. The happiness you felt knowing he was alive was still there.At this point you actually cared about Connor. You spent all this time tryingto save him and now you felt like you knew him better than anyone else. Whichmade it so much worse knowing you didn’t know how to save him.

Zoe gotout of the driver side and hurried inside, leaving Connor alone as he got outof the passenger seat. You walked over to him as he slung his bag over hisshoulder, locking the car door from the inside before he shut it. When youreached him, you flashed him a warm smile, “Come on.”

Hisbrow furrowed, “What?”

“We’reskipping. Nothing interesting ever happens the first day, and we both know thatyou don’t want to be here,” You held out a hand to him, “What do you have tolose?””

Connorhesitated, eyes darting from your hand to the school. He didn’t know you. Notlike you knew him. But you knew he liked risks and going on an adventure withsomeone he didn’t know was definitely a risk.

Youquirked a smile, eyes easing, “Come with me.”

Withthose words he let out a breath and shook his head, muttering to himself, “Whatthe fuck am I thinking…” He looked up at you and shrugged, “Why the hell not.”

“That’swhat I like to hear,” Your smile widened and you grabbed his hand, pulling himacross the parking lot towards your car.

“So,where are we going, crazy person who has never spoken to me before?” He asked,just giving in to you at this point as you both climbed into your car.

“We aregoing to have the best day of your life,” You say, looking over at him as youstarted your car and buckling up.

“Thatisn’t insanely vague or anything,” Connor says, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“Justtrust me,” You say, handing him the aux cord as you pulled out of the parkinglot and away from the day you’ve been repeating for what seemed like aneternity. You were ready for a new day and you hoped that today could be thatday for you. At least for a little while. You gestured to the cord with a nodof your head, “Hook us up with some driving music. Only your favourites.” Hedid as he was told, plugging in his phone before he pressing play on the firstsong he found. You smiled at the familiar music, “Gorillaz, huh?”

Heshrugged, looking out your window as you drove, the window shipping around youas you rolled down the windows.

“I likethem too,” You say, settling into your seat as you drove. A comfortable silencefilled the car as you both just listened to Connor’s playlist from his phone.After a while, you glanced over at him, eyes easing as you noticed the smallsmile on Connor’s face. But once he noticed the lines of houses beside youdwindle and the lines of trees began appearing, you noticed his smile fall.

“Iseverything okay?” You asked curiously.

“I’vejust…I haven’t been here in a long time,” He says, eyes trailing along thetrees of the orchard before they settled on the small shop off to the side ofthe road.

Youpulled into the parking spot before looking up at A La Mode. It was a small shop with a pastel coloured theme; thefrosted glass of the windows depicted images of ice cream. The overall feelingit gave off was welcoming and despite coming to the shop a few times, you hadnever actually been inside. After a moment, you looked over at him, “Do youwant to come inside and get an ice cream with me? My treat?”

Connorslowly looked up at the ice cream parlor, eyes easing as he let out a breath.His eyes cautiously flickered over to you before he gave a small nod, “Yeah.Ice cream sounds nice.”

Yousmiled warmly and got out of your car, tossing your bag over your shoulder,circling around the side as you approached the front of the shop. Connorfollowed behind you, eyes moving around the familiar ice cream parlor as youboth approached the counter.

Thewoman behind the register smiled warmly at the two of you, “Welcome to A La Mode! What can I get you two?”

“I’llhave a (favourite ice cream flavor),” You say before glancing back at Connor.

“Rockyroad,” Connor says, avoiding her gaze.

“Comingright up,” She chirps, spinning around and getting you both your ice cream.After getting your cones, she hands them to you, “That’ll be fourtwenty-three.”

Youpaid for the ice cream and when Connor went to sit in one of the booths youreached out and took his hand, leading him out of the store. As you walked outof the store and away from your car, Connor’s brow furrowed, “Where are wegoing?”

“You’llsee,” You smile at him, pulling him towards the fences that lined the road.When you got to the high fence you glanced up at Connor, a smirk on your face,“We’re going up and over.”

“We’rebreaking into an old apple orchard?” He raises an eyebrow.

“What,are you scared?” You asked, holding your ice cream carefully, tossing your bagover the fence before you climbed over and hopped into the grassy field on theother side.

“Justdon’t want to get arrested,” Connor mutters and for a moment you thought he wasgoing to leave you there in the field until he swung a leg over the side of thefence and joined you.

“Ididn’t know you were so concerned about the police,” You smile as you pick yourbag up off the ground and sling it over your shoulder.

Connorrolled his eyes and turned his attention to the orchard around you, a smallsmile pulling onto his face.

Youheld out your hand to him again, “Come on. This way.” He took your hand and youlead him up through the rows of trees to an opening in the middle of the field.Once you got to a nice flat spot, you dropped your bag and opened it, takingout the blanket you had stuffed in there that morning before you laid it outfor the two of you. You took a seat on the blanket and smiled up at Connor,patting the spot beside you, “Come and join me.”

Connorrolled his eyes and sat beside you, leaning back onto one of his arms as helicked at his ice cream. His eyes moved over the trees, the leaves still avibrant green but they were bare of apples. He slowly turned his attentionupward, looking at the fluffy clouds drifting along the bright blue sky.

Youlicked at your ice cream, watching him as a smile edged its way onto your face.When you finished your ice cream, you laid back onto the blanket, looking up atthe sky with him. Connor hesitantly joined you, laying back and closing hiseyes. The two of you stayed like that for a while, just laying in the orchardtogether, looking up at the sky and relaxing.

Youtook out your phone to check the time. It was only a little past one but youknew you had to head back soon in order to get him back to school to catch aride home with Zoe. You let out a breath, “We better get back.”

“Y/N…”

Youlooked over at Connor, a smile still on your face, “Yeah?”

“Youwere right,” Connor said, eyes never leaving the sky as he smiled weakly, “Ithink this is the best day I’ve had in a really long time.” He turned his headto face you, “Thank you.”

The wayhe said that made you uneasy. You watched him stand up, brushing off his jeansas you gathered up the blanket and stuffed it into your bag. He started walkingback to the fence, hands in his pockets. Something was off. You knew it. Thiswasn’t right.

Youhurried to catch up to him as he climbed over the fence, “Are you okay?”

Connorlet out a breath and turned to look at you as he straddled the fence, eyesnarrowed in annoyance, “Why do you care so much?”

Therewas a pause and he dropped to the other side of the fence. Quickly you followedhim, climbing over the fence before you rushed after him towards your car. Youunlocked it and the two of you climbed inside.

“Ijust…” You slowly turned your eyes to look at him, “I don’t want you to die.”

Hisentire body stiffened in the seat beside you and he couldn’t take his eyes off youas much as he wanted to. His eyes were wide, voice barely audible as he slowlyspoke, “What?”

Youreyes flickered down to look at your fingers twisting together in your lap,“Connor…I…”

You letout a breath and your head fell back against the headrest, mulling over whatyou should do this time around. This wasn’t the first time you’d been in theparking lot of A La Mode. If you had this conversation again, you knew he wouldstart screaming at you and would leave. You couldn’t tell him about everything youhad been through because he would never believe you. Instead, you slowlyreached out and took his hand in yours, pretending as if this was the firsttime you’d been here with him. As if this really was the first day of senioryear.

“I’m sosorry,” You said simply, fingers squeezing his gently, “I know how hard thingshave been for you and those assholes at school only make things worse. And Iknow that I could never come to comprehend what you’re going through…” Youclose your eyes, voice shaking as you tried your hardest to hold yourselftogether this time, “I know what you were planning to do after school…but…Ineed you to know that someone is here for you, Connor.” Your eyes eased and yousmiled gently, looking up at him, “I’m here for you.”

He wasstaring at you, brow furrowed in confusion. That’s when you noticed the tearswelling in his eyes and you realized that you had finally gotten through tohim. He blinked a few times as he snatched his hand away from yours, scrubbinghis eyes with the palm of his hand, “Fuck…”

“Justthink about what I said. Please,” You say, watching him for a moment before youstarted your car. Connor’s music filled the car and you realized he had lefthis phone plugged in. He didn’t make a move to shut it off and the two of youstarted your drive back to your town.

As yougot closer to your town, Connor let out a breath, “Could you just take me home?I really don’t want to go back to school.”

Younodded, adjusting your drive to the Murphy house where you had been several timesbefore in this crazy time loop. When you finally pulled up into the driveway ofthe Murphy house, you smiled gently at Connor, “Here we are…”

Connorglanced in your direction, “Thank you. For everything. I think I really neededto have a day like today.”

Yoursmile widened slightly, “I’m glad. Will I…” You hesitated, eyes meeting hisslowly, “Will I see you at school tomorrow?”

Helooked up at his house and he let out a slow breath, “We’ll see.”

Beforeyou could stop yourself, you reached over and pulled Connor in for a hug. Hestiffened in your arms and slowly he returned the hug, his hands resting onyour back, the side of his head leaning against yours, “Bye Connor.” You stayedlike that for a moment, knowing how much Connor needed this. Then he pulledaway and avoided your gaze, getting out of your car and headed inside hishouse.

Youstared at the door of his house and slowly turned and drove away, hoping thatthis would be the last time you would have to relive this day. The drive homewas slow due to rush hour traffic. You got stuck behind a bus at one point, butyou were in no rush to get home. You got to your house just as Jared got offthe bus. He waved to you as you passed him and you gave a smile, waving back.As you pulled up into the driveway you noticed your father’s car parked up nearthe house.

Youclimbed out of the car and grabbed your bag, hurrying inside to see yourparents talking at the kitchen table. You looked to your dad, hope bubbling inyour chest, “Hi, how was work?”

“It wasgreat, darlin.” He smiles, “Lots of lives saved today.”

“Likealways,” You say, glancing at your mother.

“Howwas your first day at school?” Your mother asked, leaning against the counter.

“Itwas…nice,” You say, a smile pulling onto your face, “I’m uh…I’m gonna head upto my room.”

Yourmother smiled back, “Alright, just don’t fill up on junk food. We’re havingroast for supper tonight.”

“Okay,”You said, turning and heading up the stairs before you made it into your room.You tossed your bag down and ran a hand back through your hair as you looked atyour laptop, lifting up the lid to check the time. It was 4:29pm. Your heartwas racing as you stared at the numbers anxiously. Then the time changed to4:30pm.

You held your breath, waiting, frozen in place. Timepassed slowly, creeping along. And then finally the time switched to 4:31pm.You relaxed against your desk, tears filling your eyes as you realized you hadfinally done it. You had saved him.

Youralarm went off and your eyes shot open. You grabbed for your phone and flickedoff the alarm before unlocking it. Your eyes landed on the date at the top ofthe screen just to be sure. The second day of senior year. You really had doneit. Which meant you had to hurry to get to school.

Youleapt out of bed and moved to your closet, picking out a new outfit before youpulled it on and hurried downstairs. Your mother was in the living room readinga book when you got to the bottom of the stairs and she smiled upon seeing you,“Morning, honey. How did you sleep?”

“Great,”You said, moving to the front door to pull your shoes on, “ I will see you whenI get home. Bye mom, love you.”

“Loveyou too!” Your mother called after you as you rushed out the door.

Youlooked up at the sky, a grin appearing on your face when you realized it wascloudy and that rain might come. You felt like it hadn’t rained in months andthe sight of the storm clouds just confirmed you were out of the loop.

“Doingyour impression of the Joker today? Smile any wider and your face might crack,”Jared joked from the bus stop.

Youshook your head and looked up at the sky, “Just excited for the rain. I loverain, you know that?”

Hequirked an eyebrow as the bus pulled up, “I thought you hated the rain.”

“Nottoday, I don’t,” You say, climbing onto the bus and sitting at the back as youalways do, “Today is a new me.”

“Areyou feeling okay?” Jared asked, watching you closely, “This isn’t one of those‘invasion of the body-snatchers’ type deals, is it?”

Youshoved his arm playfully and began your regular banter for the rest of the wayto school. When you finally reached the school, you rose from your seat andsmiled at Jared, “I’m going to go find Connor. I’ll see you later?”

“Connor…Murphy?”Jared asked in confusion as he rose from his seat as well.

“Yeah,if you could do me a huge favor and try and leave him alone this year, I’dreally appreciate it,” You said, a weak smile on your face, “He’s been having areally rough time lately and your joking around with him really won’t help.”

Hisbrow furrows but he slowly nods, “Yeah, sure…”

“Thanks,Jared. See you later,” You say, turning to rush off the bus. When you got offthe bus you made your way towards the parking area, eyes scanning through thecars for the Murphy’s and eventually you saw it pull into the student parkinglot. Your eyes lit up and you waited patiently for Connor to head inside.

Likebefore, Zoe got out first and Connor was slow to follow, but the moment henoticed you waiting for him, a small smile came to his face. He fixed his bagup on his shoulder as he made his way toward you before he came to a slow stopin front of you.

Tearswelled in your eyes as if the sight of him was the single best thing to everhappen to you. And in that moment, it was. You smiled through the tears, “Hi.”

His gazesoftened as his eyes met yours, a soft chuckle escaping him, “Hi.”

#connor murphy #connor murphy x reader #x reader #dear evan hansen x reader #deh #reader #deh x reader #dear evan hansen #deh connor #connor x reader #not again #you-never-liked-this-sweater #groundhog day #fanfiction

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fiercyy · 7 years ago

Text

a thousand days, and then some

This began as a submission for @deathberryprompts ‘time’, but it’s like weeks late so I’m changing it to the ‘A Perfect Ending’ prompt for @ichirukimonth!. So it’s STILL freaking late.

So I changed some of the details of the canon situation/timeline to make the story neater and to have it all happen in one day. If that’s distracting for you, sorry! I’m not altogether satisfied with this, but oh well, maybe I’ll fix it later.

a thousand days and then some

Summary: A Groundhog Day fic. Ichigo relives the longest day of his life over and over and over and over and-

. .

If you knew that today was going to be your last day, how would you spend it?

Once you’ve spent so long fighting, scratching and clawing your way towards survival, how do you force yourself to accept what is inevitable?

When you look at someone you love and see them fade away, are you supposed to say goodbye or hold on to their phantom imprint?

. .

Do you give up?

. .

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Ichigo rolled over to slam his hand down on the alarm clock, only to overshoot and tumble out of bed. He groaned as he tiredly got to his feet and sluggishly made his way to the bathroom.

He’d been feeling especially tired lately. His limbs felt heavy. He figured that he must be coming down with something.

He dressed for the day and did his best to suppress his yawns at the breakfast table. He looked around at his family, in similar drowsy states, only to notice that someone was missing.

“Where’s Rukia?” he asked, lips pressed around the rim of his coffee mug.

“Dunno,” Karin mumbled, “She was gone when we woke up.”

“That’s odd.”

“Not really.”

He supposed Karin was right, the oddest thing about Rukia was not her sleeping habits.

Last night he hadn’t been able to find her and Uryuu after they’d left him to perform the konso on the little spirit boy. Eventually he’d just given up and gone home. Who knew how late she’d been out? Maybe she’d never come home.

It wasn’t that he was worried. If anything had happened, he’d know about it by now.

But there was a feeling, like a tickle in the back of his mind. There were things he was trying to tie together, but couldn’t quite grasp what they were yet. Something wasn’t right.

. .

It was the weekend, so he had nowhere else to be. He spent most of the morning strolling around Karakura, pretending that he wasn’t looking for her.

Normally, something like this would be a moment’s work. He never had much trouble finding Rukia. He could always feel her, at the edges of his awareness. She had been a constant in his life so long it would be odd if he couldn’t. To feel nothing was to feel empty. Inside him bloomed fear, planted in paranoia. If he couldn’t feel anything, he couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t gone.

It took him most of the day, but he found her by the river.

“Hey,” he startled her so badly that she spun around. This time he could feel her spiritual pressure spike. Like a hard rap on a distant door. “What’s your problem?”

“Problem? I don’t have a problem.”

“You’ve been kinda distant lately.”

Wind whipped around them in a spiralling current. It freed her hair from her scarf and blew it around her face. She turned with the wind, finally facing him. She seemed to be gathering her courage.

“Ichigo, I-“ she began, then closed her mouth, searching for words.

“Why is everything such a dramatic secret with you people.”

“You people?!” She growled.

“Stop brooding. Doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not brooding!”

“Sure you are, so just tell me what’s got you so pissed off so I can fix it and be done with it.”

“Ever think that maybe you’re my problem? Fix that!”

“Rukia, I’m trying to be serious here. What the hell’s the matter?” He wouldn’t usually push, but this was a worry that had been gnawing at her (and therefore, him) for a while. Things were best brought out in the open.

“You really want to know?”

And for a moment, he paused. Did he?

Not really.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He could feel in his bones how important it was, whatever she wanted to say. Whatever was eating away at her was something that could not be taken back. He didn’t know if he was ready for that. She looked up at him with glassy, earnest eyes and held her breath.

Ichigo sighed and ruffled Rukia’s hair.

The spell broke and Rukia growled. Then she punched him in the gut.

“Come on, your sister made dinner.”

. .

That night, Rukia sat across from Ichigo at the table. Karin and Dad took the ends and Yuzu crowded in beside Rukia. No one had usual seats, but Rukia usually chose to sit beside him. He didn’t mind, it was easier to observe her this way.

She laughed and chatted with his family, telling jokes, pulling stupid faces for Yuzu’s amusement and stealing the last of his favourite dumplings. Like she belonged. Like she’d always been there.

It had been quite some time since Rukia had to put on pretenses in the Kurosaki household. Her schoolgirl charms had faded with her patience, her lies along with them. It had to have been exhausting to even try and keep up an act like that all the time. With the disappearance of these falsehoods, surfaced a preoccupation on Karin’s part.

Karin was smart. She could smell bullshit a mile off, just as well as Ichigo could. She didn’t like liars and she was a good judge of character. He appreciated that even if she didn’t necessarily like Rukia, at least she spoke to her.

Rukia looked up sharply. Their eyes met across the detritus of the family meal and Ichigo suddenly felt warm. His face burned and his lips twitched, wanting to smile but not knowing if it was the right thing to do. She was trying to tell him something without speaking. Her mouth pressed into a grim line but her eyes were shining with warmth… and something else. For a moment, he forgot that they had an audience, or rather, company. He wanted to say something to reassure her that everything would be okay. He wanted to tell her everything that had been piling up inside him since she returned from Soul Society with her powers restored.

She shook her head. Not here. Not now.

Later would come. The war was over, they had all the time in the world.

. .

The hollow was big and ugly. In fairness to the beast, all hollows were ugly, but Ichigo was feeling particularly resentful today.

Whatever he was coming down with, it was winding him. He couldn’t even flash step anymore. And Rukia must have noticed because she took care of the Hollow in record time. “Perform the konso on the boy, I’ll take care of the others,” she instructed.

Ichigo sighed and redrew his sword, “Fine fine, I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

“No need,” she assured him like she honestly believed he’d listen. Which was crazy.

She blurred out of sight.

“C’mere kid, you’re gonna be okay.”

When it was done, he tried to scour around with his senses but was having a lot of trouble. He couldn’t even locate Rukia, and that was an energy signature as familiar as his own. It had literally been a part of him, once.

He spent an hour jogging around, looking. He would have given up and gone home if not for the primal roar that rattled him down to his spine.

Ichigo followed the sound to an empty city block in the financial district. He moved to step in but was intercepted by Rukia. “I’ve got this,” she told him.

Unusual. They tended to take down even the weaker hollows together. No point in one of them doing all the work when one blow from each was sufficient.

“I can-“

“Ichigo, I said stay back!” the moment of distraction gave the hollow an opening to rake a claw through the air, swatting her down onto the pavement.

“Rukia!”

She was back on her feet in moments, but he was already calling upon a Getsuga Tenshou. The electric black current ripped through the air and into the beast, decimating it.

“No!” Rukia screamed.

“What-?” he couldn’t understand what was the matter, why was she reacting this way? He attacked a hollow; this was normal, routine. The air was cold in his lungs and it burned. What’s wrong? Dread settled between his shoulder blades with an uncomfortable twinge.

He glanced around, searching for an oncoming enemy, but there was no one around. Only Rukia, only him. And she was looking at him like the world was ending.

“What-?” his anxious questioning was cut off by the pain between his shoulders twisting. It radiated outward. Every part of him began to burn, down to the roots of his hair. “What’s happening to me?” he grit through the pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I tried to stop it.” Rukia’s arms wound around him, holding him upright. Black spots clouded his vision.

And he knew, like a preternatural vision he could see what was about to happen. “We need to find my body.”

She half carried and half dragged him ten blocks home.

. .

“About Ichigo’s powers…” Uryuu had run alongside Rukia, and had run with her ruse to keep Ichigo occupied.

“The powers he regained using mod soul technology was only temporary. He can’t even do a flashstep anymore.”

“Then why are you still letting him fight?”

. .

Ichigo lay in bed, looking up at Rukia’s tortured expression and wondered why the opposite of dying felt like this.

“You knew this was going to happen.”

She hesitated before nodding.

“You lied to me!”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I…”

But he never got to hear her excuses. She began to fade away, before his very eyes. She realized this and cut herself off. The tortured expression returned, worse than before. “Ichigo, g-“

And then she was gone. Like a paused song. Or doors shutting. One moment she was above him, around him, her scent in the air, his name on her lips. The next, there was no trace of her.

. .

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Ichigo rolled over to slam his hand down on the alarm clock, only to overshoot and tumble out of bed. He groaned as he tiredly got to his feet and sluggishly made his way to the bathroom.

He’d been feeling especially tired lately. His limbs felt heavy. He figured he must be coming down with something.

He dressed for the day and did his best to suppress his yawns at the breakfast table. He looked around at his family, in similar drowsy states, only to notice that someone was missing.

And then suddenly, like a jolt he remembered.

“Where’s Rukia?” demanded Ichigo, with more force than necessary.

His family all looked at him oddly.

“Dunno,” Karin mumbled, “She was gone when we woke up.”

His heart began to race. She’d disappeared. She was gone.

None of it felt real.

He darted out the door, leaving his breakfast behind.

This time he went to the river right away. He found her sitting in exactly the same spot he’d found her in yesterday. She rested her chin on her knees, which were pulled to her chest. She stared at the water, unseeing.

“Hey,” he said in greeting and relief.

“Hello.”

“What was that all about yesterday?”

“Yesterday?” she glanced up at him in confusion.

“With the disappearing act.”

“Oh… I guess I haven’t been around much lately.”

That’s not what he meant. And her told her so. “I mean with the whole-“

Her expression was nonplussed.

“…Nevermind.”

What the hell is going on?

. .

Ichigo relived the longest day of his life in a haze. He was slow on the uptake. Questions went unanswered after long stretches of silence, barbs went unreturned.

He spent the day staring at Rukia, shuddering through an awful sense of déjà vu. It was like his heart had become a countdown clock. Every beat brought him closer to an unfair inevitability.

But Ichigo Kurosaki had done the impossible before. Maybe this was hope, maybe this was a chance. Maybe the day was resetting because this wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Maybe he was meant to change it.

. .

This couldn’t be happening. He could change it. He could. He could.

. .

“Ichigo, I said stay back!”

It occurred to him that maybe he should listen. He knew exactly what was about to happen. He’d distract her, she’d get swiped down, he’d attack the beast and then his world would end. Or rather, fade.

He couldn’t do it.

. .

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Ichigo awoke and stared at the ceiling. He heard once that doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different outcome, was the definition of insanity. He always figured that was for people who weren’t as stubborn as him, but maybe they were right.

He thought he could get out of this, like he had every other disaster in his life. He thought he could find away around it, find a way of keeping his powers.

But maybe he couldn’t. Maybe… this was it.

. .

Sometimes he would fight, sometimes he’d pretend not to find her. Sometimes Rukia disappeared before his eyes. Sometimes the world faded into three dimensions when she wasn’t even around to mark the change.

He didn’t know which he hated more.

And nothing ever changed

. .

He didn’t lose track exactly, but he thought it’d been twenty days, give or take a couple. Twenty days of trying to escape and he was frustrated. He was furious. Twenty days gives a man a lot to think about. It gives time for wounds to get infected and fester. It gives him time to work out what must have been going on, beyond the scope of his notice.

Rukia knew.

She fucking knew what was happening to him.

Together on a rooftop, they’d stared down at normal people skating around a rink, oblivious to the dangers of the world. All the while she was thinking he was about to become one of them.

“Nice isn’t it? Ordinary people enjoying their ordinary lives.”

Bullshit.

Looking back, he could see it all so clearly. Something had been going on and he’d let her get away with keeping it from him. She gave him no time to prepare. She didn’t think it was worth telling him the truth.

This betrayal was more than he could take.

Rukia was his partner. He trusted her with everything, his life, his tragedies and his truths. She took advantage of that.

. .

On the bank of the river, two figures stood opposite each other in the golden light of late afternoon. The slope of the grass ensured that they were hidden from passersby, but the rising volume of their voices made them anything but inconspicuous.

“How could you lie to me like that?!” Ichigo raged, gesticulating wildly.

Not one to be intimidated, Rukia crossed her arms over her chest and shouted back, “It was the right thing to do!”

“How the hell am I supposed to trust you ever again?”

“Well, that won’t be a problem considering that soon you’ll never have to see me again at all!”

If he looked like she had just slapped him, it was because it certainly felt like it.

This wasn’t new knowledge, but to have her say it, to get that glimpse of the future…

. .

It was worse.

Yelling had always been a coping mechanism between them, a method of open communication for two very difficult people. But being angry, spewing that venom in her face, it felt poisonous.

In their entire acquaintance, when had Rukia ever not prioritized him? He couldn’t think of a single betrayal, big or small.

What a way to say goodbye.

. .

What did he have to do? He wondered.

. .

He found her by the river, like he did every day.

This time he sat by her side and watched the current carry ducks downstream. He decided to enjoy the quiet. A hundred times he’d lived this day, but he still relished the comfortable silences between them.

Gently, he held her hand and kept his gaze averted.

He could feel her eyes on him and soon heard a sigh. “I know, I’ve been distant lately.”

“You have something you want to talk to me about,” he didn’t mean it as a question, but she took it that way.

“I think you can feel it.”

He couldn’t before, but that had changed. He told her so.

“You’re going to lose your powers.” Somehow hearing it from her lips was worse than all the knowing a hundred days in limbo could offer.

“There’s got to be a way to stop it. There has to.” The desperation in his eyes was mirrored in her face as she cried. She hardly ever cried.

“I’m so sorry.”

“There has to.”

His arms were full of Rukia, but for all the strength he wanted to lend her, without her he thought he might crumble.

. .

“Ichigo, I said stay back!”

“Sounds good, let me know if you need me.”

I give up.

Maybe he was just meant to accept that he didn’t have to save everyone all the time. Maybe if he just let Rukia deal with it he would keep his powers a little longer, she’d stay. It wasn’t that strong a hollow, she’d take it down easily without him. It went against the grain to leave his partner to the dirty work but nothing else had worked.

She seemed surprised by his acceptance. Worry coloured her features.

In a show of defiant complacency he turned his back on the fight and began to walk away. What did one day matter?

“Ichigo look out!”

This was why he should never do dramatic exits, he realized. He was very bad at them.

In a flash, Rukia stood between him and the hollow. He hadn’t seen what happened, but there were four rending tears in her torso, from shoulder to hip. “Fool,” she gasped, before falling to her knees.

Ichigo saw red.

The Getsuga Tenshou he unleashed was overkill and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself.

With the hollow gone, he came back to reality to come to grips with what he’d done.

Rukia’s hands clutched at her chest, trying to keep the ripped flesh together, to stem the blood pouring from her wounds. She was taking deep, ragged breaths, trying not to hyperventilate.

Ichigo flew to her side and gathered her up in his arms. “Rukia, fuck, Rukia. This is all my fault.”

“I’ve had worse,” she joked.

“I’m calling Inoue,” he assured her, fumbling in his shihakusho for his phone. His heart seemed to slow, only beating in time with the rings, with hope that help was coming.

Rukia reached up to cup his cheek with cold fingers. “Ichigo…” He grabbed that hand and held it to his face, willing it warmer with his own.

He could feel her fading.

Not from the world, but from his sight. “No no, not now!”

Rukia seemed to understand. “Hey, don’t look so sad. Even if you can’t see me, I can see you.”

“Like from heaven? WHAT THE FUCK?!”

She laughed, which turned into a cough. The hand on his face started to glow. “No, you fool.” She pressed her own hand over her heart and the skin began to knit back together. “I won’t go until I’m ready.”

She gave him hope. It made him dizzy with relief.

Rukia’s smile was the last of her that he could see. His name, the last word on her lips. For a while after he could no longer see her, he could still feel her in his arms, until that sensation too, was gone.

. .

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Ichigo lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. The blare of his alarm crashed over him like a cresting wave. He let himself be swept up in its anxious noise. He let the din eclipse every other thought.

He couldn’t move.

The alarm eventually turned itself off, but it was quickly replaced by unreturned calls and texts.

Yuzu came upstairs around noon to worriedly feel his forehead, but soon retreated from his blank stare.

Shortly before midnight Rukia took up a vigil by his bedside. They quietly stewed in each other’s presence until morning.

Then Ichigo’s eyes closed for only a moment.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

. . The next day he thrashed, like a shark caught in a net. He had to move forward. To stop was to die. Going back was impossible.

He burned with faith that he could make this better. He could reshape the world with sheer determination. He’d done it before. Everything he’d ever been and done and seen had led to this. So it couldn’t end here.

He fought harder, renewed in his righteous wish to continue to be.

What was the point of all this? What was the point of this day, if not to change things? Why was he reliving what was already the longest day of his life?

This was not an ending worth all that. A perfect ending was no ending at all.

. .

And he finally realized what she had done.

All that time wasted being angry.

By protecting him and keeping him from fighting, she gave him this day. She gave him yesterday. She staved off reality for just a little while longer so that he could do what he did best. He saved someone. He helped a soul. She let him fight. She let him have his pride. She gave him all the time she could.

If all he had was one more day, then he would give it to her.

A thousand days ago, he and Rukia had stood together at sunset, on a roof overlooking a skating rink. As she watched families, friends and lovers twirl and glide around each other, he watched her. She had smiled like she was at peace.

He could give her that.

Just once.

One perfect day.

. .

But before that. He needed to do one selfish thing.

He had one thing to say before it all ended.

He’d stood in this spot most of the day. Most of the days. By the river, he contemplated everything that had passed between them here. They’d been evasive, teasing, screamed and yelled, cried, fought for and with each other, quiet, serene. There was one thing they’d never been and would never be.

Rukia looked out at the river to avoid meeting his eyes, as she often did.

Ichigo took her hand.

He wondered if when the day was over, it will have never happened.

She whirled around in sharp surprise and gaped at him. She must have seen something in his face, something only she could have seen, for she reached her hand up and cupped his cheek. She had never touched him like his.

Her thumb stroked back and forth over a beauty mark below his eye. Her lips pressed together in pain, her dimples stood out differently when she frowned than when she smiled.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, laying his other palm over her hand.

“Okay,” she acquiesced in a breathy murmur.

“I love you.” Simple as that.

Rukia began to cry. “I love you too.”

For the first time in his life, Ichigo kissed a girl.

The girl.

It took all his strength not to live another thousand days exactly like this one.

. .

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Ichigo rolled over to slam his hand down on the alarm clock. He practically jumped out of bed. Then he washed and dressed for the day, taking more care than usual with his hair.

He grabbed a piece of toast on his way out, made excuses to his family and ran directly for the spot where Rukia had been standing for the past thousand and more days.

“Rukia, there you are!” It didn’t matter that there was no surprise, that he’d known where to find her for what amounted to years by now. Every time he saw her, he felt the same pull. “You look spaced out, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, nothing much…” how could he ever have missed that expression on her face?

“Oh really,” he said, skeptically. “You’ve been weird.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at me?” She had no choice then, but to try. And because of that, he could see it all. “You’ve been distant lately.”

She looked away.

“There’s something you want to tell me isn’t there?”

“Yeah.”

But today wasn’t about that.

“You don’t have to tell it to me now.”

That set her off. “What is with you?! First you want me to tell you, then you don’t. Make up your damn mind, you know, if you can find it.”

Any reservations or doubts he had about it all, melted with her rant. Her frustration made his heart full. How could he ever have missed this? Her pain. Looking at her now, she was so transparent.

“Listen, we’ve known each other a long time, so by now I think I can pretty much guess what you’re thinking.”

She deflated, “Fine, whatever,” That sly smile playing across her lips.

“Come on, everyone’s waiting for us.”

. .

He led her to the skating rink they’d watched over so long ago: yesterday. They discussed the beauty of ordinary people living ordinary lives. At the time, Ichigo had thought she’d been looking towards their future. Later, he bitterly supposed she’d been thinking only of him and what was to come. Now, he just wanted to give her that ordinary, perfect day.

Orihime waved them over, Tatsuki grinning at her side. Chad and Uryuu flanked them, Keigo and Mizuiro hanging off to the side. They all wore skates.

“What are we doing here?” He swore, you’d think no one had ever done anything nice for her before, the way she always acted.

“I thought… by the way you were looking at this place yesterday, that you wanted to do some ice skating.” Maybe this wasn’t the right choice.

She blinked at him, “you sap.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry about it,” she took his hand.

“Let’s go.”

For someone whose soul was an icescape, who commanded the winter and danced in the snow, Rukia was not a comfortable skater. He didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to hold her, without it looking strange.

. .

Fireworks went up in beautiful bursts of colour and all Ichigo could think of was serendipity. Chad explained about a new theme park opening or something, but he had to chock it up to fate.

Rukia’s face lit up in pinks and purples, greens and blues. She took his hand in hers, of her own volition, and Ichigo hoped the technicolor show hid the more natural reddening of his cheeks.

“This is nice,” she said. “I can’t believe you thought of it.”

“Tch, was that supposed to be a compliment?” Still the same Rukia then.

He felt completely different, but in a thousand days, she remained unchanged. It made him happy to know that.

Ichigo looked to the darkened sky as the lightshow ended and sighed, knowing his time was almost up.

“Rukia, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Back there, when I went full hollow and lost control of myself… how did you find me?” The question had burned within him. He couldn’t have picked his own spiritual signature out of a line up, how in the world had she?

There were many questions that Ichigo had asked over the course of this ordeal. Her answers were sometimes vague, sometimes overly detailed and required illustrations, but he was always glad to know. No matter how many times he relived this day, there would never be enough time to ask her everything.

“Couldn’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?” he griped.

“I mean, it’s hard to say.” Her smile was secret. He really could spend forever and never learn everything he wanted to know about her.

Maybe, it didn’t matter. Maybe he should trust that she’d always be able to get to him.

They walked on.

. .

The hollow arrived, as it always did.

This time, Rukia made her token protests but could not justify her fears without telling him what would happen.

She followed.

Ichigo had no real plan going into this fight. No thought but win.

“Come on!” Rukia yanked him out of the way of the hollow’s stomping feet and down the block.

The hollow roared and lunged for them again.

“Sorry, I’m getting in your way.” He gasped, out of breath.

A look stole over Rukia’s face, before it erupted in fury. “Stop that! You are not in my way.” She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him off his knees, “If you get hurt, then I’ll help you. If you can’t fight then I’ll fight in your place. If you’re in pain then I’ll help you to deal with your pain. After all, we’re friends…right?”

When he set out to do this, to give her today, he had not bargained for this. These vows of hers were more than he could have ever hoped for. They were so much more than friends, but that was as good a moniker as any, he supposed.

“Yeah, we are.”

He stumbled and she caught him.

“Rukia, can you take out that thing’s legs?”

That’s the look. The look from that first night. The one he fell in love with. “Sure.”

And they go to work.

This has always been what they do best: working together, acting as sword and shield in turn. Despite the burn in his lungs and the chill in the air from her dance, this part was easy.

“This is my last one.” He charged his attack and the blue light struck the hollow, ridding the world of its miasmic presence.

She caught him before he hit the ground. “Honestly, you’re always pushing yourself way too hard.”

“Well, like you said before, I’ll always be me… so don’t go hiding stuff that you have to say to me, alright?”

Rukia stooped and helped him lay down on the ground.

“I’m really sorry for dragging you into my personal mess.”

Rukia rolled her eyes, “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

“We’re friends,” he grit out, feeling everything and nothing like it. “Right?”

“I know.”

. .

“…no matter what happens, nothing will change who we are.”

. .

Ichigo woke up without an alarm.

He shot up in bed and looked around, noticing his friends all gathered around him. Rukia, a shadow in their midst, still in her shihakushou.

“Am I home?” he demanded, clutching his chest as if he could feel his chain of fate. “Are my powers-?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. I saw this coming...” then he surprised them all. “Can I go outside?”

On the street he reached out to the world, fumbling around in the dark of the morning. The sun beat down on him, but he’d never been more blind. Rukia was behind him, but he wouldn’t have known it. He couldn’t feel her anymore.

He couldn’t feel anything.

But it was a new day.

And tomorrow another one would come.

“This is goodbye Ichigo.”

“It looks that way.”

“Hey, there’s no use looking so sad. Even if you won’t be able to see me anymore, I’ll still be keeping a close eye on you.”

“That’s just great, you spying on me! And just so you know: I’m not sad okay?”

He could never be made ready for this: to be made dumb and blind, to be numb to the world her knew, to be empty of her… but the pain was dull, stretched out over a thousand yesterdays and tempered with the knowledge that it could never have gone any other way. For the first time, Ichigo drew comfort from his helplessness.

“Goodbye Rukia.”

#ichirukimonth #ichiruki fanfiction #Bleach fic #ichigo x rukia #deathberry #my fic

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canvaswolfdoll · 7 years ago

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CanvasListens: The Adventure Zone

The Adventure Zone was a tough sell to me, despite (and possibly because of) seeing it pop up as various artists I respect began getting into the podcast.

First off, despite my love of the hobby, I have a rather low tolerance for second hand accounts. Short stories focusing on a singular, amusing event is great. Multi-part text narratives are a no go. Likewise, I’ve always had difficulty getting into actual play podcasts, since most that I encounter don’t really put a lot of weight on actual entertainment over, you know, just putting a recorder in the middle of the table during the usual game night. So I listen to very few Actual Plays.

And by ‘few Actual Plays’, I mean One Shot (Which does a good job of rotating content and keeping the separate narratives relatively short and self-contained) and Campaign (Which started with good production quality, and already had my loyalty due to being a One Shot spinoff show.) I don’t even listen to rest of their network.

I’d made a couple attempts at Critical Role, but since it’s a continuation of the cast’s ongoing campaign (thus continuity lockout) and was confined to YouTube for years (thus I couldn’t really listen while driving, running errands, or doing chores), I just couldn’t force myself to be invested. And it’s cast is a bunch of Voice Actors! I love voice actors!

Basically, a bunch of the usual complaints I have about media accessibility.

Further, as Adventure Zone’s popularity began exploding, I admit there was a degree of resentment on my part. I’ve longed harbored a desire to have my own Actual Play show, and if the genre’s exploding now, while I’ve still got no concrete plans, chances are, once I do have my act together,[1] I’ll again be starting during the twilight period of the genre.[2]

Dang it, McElroys! Don’t you burn the fuel before I even board!

Still, it was becoming a talking point, and was a downloadable podcast, so it wouldn’t hurt to try. Probably drop it after an episode or two.

The first couple of episodes were not promising. Players were mostly newbies, with a lot of rules talk; they were running the adventure that comes prepackaged in the Starter Set, which means I had to sit through the session that I’ve literally either tried to run or play several times. And it never gets past the freaking bugbear.

So, of course, after completing that specific portion, the McElroys promptly leave the rails, lightly skip past Phandalin, so I didn’t even get to finally see what’s supposed to happen after the lengthy mechanic and battle tutorial!

However, that’s also the point Griffin began making the story his own, so I might as well keep listening as I eat my slice of pre-work CostCo Pizza.

That’s what the series mostly was. Background noise as I prepared for work. The first couple arcs were okay. Not amazing, but okay. The performers were good comedically, and they seemed to be having fun, so it was alright.

I was intrigued by the premise of the second arc. Train-based mystery, huh? Sure. I’m always game for playing with tropes. Griffin, and the players, were beginning to explore character voices, and the NPCs were getting livelier. I admit, I was a quick sell on Angus. The precocious boy detective being placed in the middle of a train mystery, perpetrated by a serial killer, with a rather maimed body is just the right balance of darkly inappropriate.

Especially since Angus was there to solve the mystery in case the Boys were too incompetent.

Still, wasn’t too absorbed. I began swapping between TAZ Arcs and One Shot series. If I got too bored, I’d just drop TAZ, since podcasts are one of the few mediums I’m able to do so, since I can only will myself to consume them in limited circumstances (basically, while in transit, or some other activity that is physically busy but mentally void).[3]

Combat, however, remained a time for Canvas’s eyes to glaze over, and nothing of value to remain.

The Lunar Interludes were fun! Building comradery with a small community is what I’m about. Especially with their bunkmate, Pringles! Even though Griffin clearly didn’t want anything more to do with Pringles.

Poor Pringles.

Petals to the Metal is marked by many as the real turning point. I… liked it a little less than Rockport Limited? It started strong while the Boys were infiltrating a bank, and Taako has a semi-hypocritical moment I recognized from my favorite Pathfinder character, where this kleptomaniac wizard objected to Merle and Magnus taking time to rob the bank while supposedly saving it.[5]

However, this was followed by a sequence explaining the Mad Max race and infiltration to steal parts which… was actually kind of dull. The dialogue with the guards was great, but then it was long stretch of explaining a compound we’d never see again, and a large fight. Then there was a charming sequence where The Boys selected their animal motifs, with Taako getting an actually pretty nice (if meta) serious moment regarding his Mongoose mask.

Then the race itself was… a giant combat. Interesting enemy concepts. Still a giant combat.

The ending of the race, while exciting, didn’t carry much weight because I’d lost the thread due to not paying attention.

Then there was the final boss fight.

Petals to the Metal had a lot of combat, okay? I don’t enjoy combat!

However, music was beginning to be introduced, and it was pretty good. I was beginning to feel it.

Then the Crystal Kingdom knocked it up just enough notches for me to go ‘Huh. The finale’s coming soon? Better catch up.’ and gently set One Shot aside,[6] lean my head forward, and marathon with purpose!

The sound design continued to improve, to the point of being used to foreshadow the events of the arc. The events also helped highlight how the show creators were paying attention to and heeding the words of their audience. In a positive aspect, Griffin began reading out the lyrics of the song. And, in a bit of hilarious and spiteful worldbuilding, explains the origins of what were (apparently) the much discussed elevators.[7]

In retrospect, a lot of plot stuff happened in the lab. Weird.

It was a good arc for callbacks and call forwards.

Eleventh Hour, however, is my favorite arc. For some reason, I’m just a sucker for Groundhog Day loops.[9] Compounding this, Eleventh Hour was set in a small community of new characters, there was a mystery element, plenty of space for shenanigans, puzzles, ominous prophecy, and a well done tragic villain. Also, backstory for the three leads.

Oh boy, the backstory for the three leads.

I was a Taako fan until this arc. He clearly was the best character. However, as it turns out, Travis really did devise a solid backstory. A few quick early life scenes, then we’re shown he found happiness, won a happy ending already, and had it stolen.

Then Magnus showed his true strength of character, and I was sold. Magnus was my new boy. He’s great.

Anyways, episodes with ‘Finale’ in the title were showing up in the feed, and I wanted to stop spoiling myself, so I really had to buckle down.

Luckily, work kept putting me in the garden center as the season was in its death throes, so I had plenty of time to sit in a small hut with my phone and a pair of headphones. I’d begun actively looking for opportunities to listen to more, take longer errand runs to have an excuse to get through Eleventh Hour and more episodes.

It was a good time.

The Suffering Games however, was less good. Not because it was designed to be a miserable experience, which I naturally love. The sequence of events had a lot good character work, especially for Magnus. The Wheel of Sacrifice is an amazing concept once your players are high enough level, and Griffin does a good job narrating and describing what each sacrifice does.

Especially the loss of memories. Each one stung. And Griffin did a great job of making a few of the choices hurt in surprising ways; in particular, Merl giving up his unused Axe proficiency. What was originally a cop out, Griffin expertly weaved into a solid loss. Then Magnus was given a surprisingly insidious choice: losing the memory of who he had sworn revenge on.

Also a mercy, considering losing Julia might’ve been worse. However, narratively, that would’ve removed Magnus’s main drive and significant portion of his character. Remember, GMs, carefully consider how the threads are weaved before cutting them!

Plus, we also got a good demonstration of how close The Boys were when Taako and Merle agreed to take over the vengeance quest without further details. It’s important to Magnus, and now someone else needs to do it.[10]

Taako got off really light, as the only narrative sacrifice was his beauty, which Taako quickly rendered moot via magic.[11] Because we learned a lot about the other two, I wish Taako could’ve loss more.

However, the non-wheel of sacrifice parts were… well, they fell flat, and since there wasn’t space for any significant character interaction with someone outside of the party (even Cam got put into Magnus’s pocket), it was just gimmicky encounter after gimmicky encounter. It turned repetitive.[12] Prisoner Dilemma's don’t work if those on the other side aren’t emotionally significant.

Sure, looking back and examining it, a lot of interesting things happened. But sitting in the garden center, waiting for customers, it felt tedious. Not sad and emotionally devastating, just… eh.

Were I to replicate it, I’d probably combine the prisoner's dilemma and Wheel of Sacrifice, and make the players compete against one another. If you both spare the other, then you’re both given a choice between two sacrifices. If you’re forsaken by someone you spared, then you take both. And if you both forsake… I guess the GM just gets to decide which one you take?

If you want to up the ante in later rounds, offer to return something lost in later rounds if you forsake your partner. And if you want to twist the knife, have those spared choose the sacrifice for those they betrayed.[13]

Sorry, slipping into SepiaDice for a moment. Back to the review.

Reunion Tour was a good trip into the apocalypse, and final check in with a lot of the minor characters as everyone bugged out. Bad things are coming, and Madame Lucretia Director has a lot of secrets to be found.

Stolen century was... I don't know how I feel about it? There was a lot of backstory that needed to be conveyed suddenly, yes, but after the arc was concluded, I didn't feel like I'd learn much new about anything substantial. Nothing new about the world, since the places visited came and went so fast, that few left an impression.[14]

There were four characters for us and the players to get to know, but... Well, that didn't pan out too well. Of course, focus had to remain on the players, but ended up giving little room for Davenport, Barry, and Lucretia to develop. So, while it was an arc of vignettes, which is usually my jam, in this case, the vignettes were too small and delayed the plot so long, that I was just waiting for them to get on with it.

(Though, it probably didn't help that I was ill during the latter half of Stolen Century and the first two parts of the finale, making it kind of a blur.)

How to possibly improve it? Well, let's put the SepiaDice hat back on, I guess.[15]

First off, I wouldn't have changed systems, and not just because I hear about Powered by the Apocalypse so often I've become burnt out without ever playing it. Staying with 5e would've maintained a level of consistency with the rest of the series, and let the players use their experience to act the part of the well traveled people they are in the arc.[16]

Second, instead of a bunch of ten minute scenes for a handful of worlds, spend an episode on a world and do a one shot. Show them preparing to leave their homeworld, then the first world. Then do sessions covering the rest of the details that need to be conveyed.

Finally, integrate the other four crewmembers into these adventures. There's two viable methods: rotate through them as a sort of 'Guest NPC' (or Guest PC if they want to bring on temporary cast members). Or, let the players run two characters (Give Lup to Justin, Davenport to Clint, and probably Barry over to Travis) while Young Lucretia can be mission control until it's time to toughen her up.

So... that's Stolen Century, I guess? I'm having a hard time remembering specifics.

Story and Song was a good finale.

I don't get to play many endings. In fact, I’ve played only the one, and... it wasn't a good campaign to begin with, so it is what it was.

The Adventure Zone, meanwhile, did what every good narrative should do: give a cameo to everyone they practically can, tying up any fraying that may have occurred. That way, the audience gets a chance to see their favorite character at least one more time.

Then, for the players, they were split up, and given an epic scene that contributed to the final conclusion, and closed their character arcs (even if that closure involves an old running gag.)[17]

Afterwards, into the breech for a fancy final battle.

Finally, the epilogue. I don't want to spoil it, but I do wish to speak on the framework. Griffin handled the epilogue perfectly. First, he asked the players to describe where the characters are a year later, then pitched what he (Griffin) would like to have happened while making it clear the player got final say, before both were happy with where we leave Taako, Merle, and Magnus.

That's how you finish a game.

Suffice it to say, I may have started with a lot of reservations, but I learned a lot, and hope to apply it to my own games and projects.

If you enjoyed this... whatever I just wrote... maybe poke around my blog. I have other reviews and essays. Maybe I wrote something else you like. If you'd like to support me and my creative endeavors, I have a patreon! I like money.

Thanks for reading.

Kataal kataal.

[1] Heh, wordplay. [2] Though, to be fair, I kinda knew Sprite Comics were ignoble going into Nintendo Acres. Still, it had its charm. [3] This is foreshadowing to the fact that I ended up making a conscious effort to listen to the show while hanging out at home.[4] [4] I was also sick with a stomach bug at the time, though. [5] In my case, Trix was happy to loot a corpse the party found on the side of the road, but not the crypt they were dungeon delving. In my defense, the road corpse had his things by accident, while the items in the crypt were deliberately interred. It’s a respectability thing. [6] I’ll be back soon, don’t worry. [7] As someone who had a player try and call out a clock as anachronistic, I can understand how that could be irritating.[8] I solved it by just saying ‘this isn’t Earth, and there’s a wall clock.’ But different strokes, I suppose. [8] There was also an ongoing debate about whether sandwiches existed. I was in the ‘Sandwich like things likely existed before the Earl of Sandwich’ camp, but I never got around to dredging up the Good Eats segment. [9] Fair warning: if I figure out how to replicate Endless Eight on my actual play show, I’m doing it. Same session, on repeat. And you’ll have to sit through it. [10] This better come up during a live show! [11] It’s always annoying when a player does that. [12] You may ask, ‘Canvas, you hated the repetitive feeling, yet you want to emulate Endless Eight?’ Well, you see, I also deeply love meta jokes on the audience. And I’m just a little Chaotic-Aligned. [13] Obviously, you’ll need a mature game group to do this, and an emotionally satisfying conclusion. [14] One was the world of TAZ Nights, but since I find participating in the Max Fun Drive off-putting for unknowable reasons, I had no context to care. [15] Which is probably a giant paper mache D12 mask. [16] But mostly I'm just sick of Fate and ApocalypseWorld. [17] Especially if it delivers on that running gag's punchline.

#CanvasReviews #the adventure zone #taz #D&D #podcasts #SepiaDice

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megsamforever · 7 years ago

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so in my further adventures of living in rural PA, this morning my sis and I were in the kitchen after breakfast, and we saw a cat go into the barn since the doors were open for ventilation

so of course, because we like animals and wanted to see if it was a stray or not, we put on shoes and (despite the fact that I was in pajamas) exited the house as quickly as possibly

first exciting thing: on exiting through the garage, we found Beaker (the rooster) calmly chilling outside the chicken pen, like there was a perfectly good reason for him to be on the outside and not on the inside, where he is supposed to live, we grabbed him and threw him back in and he was slightly indignant

second exciting thing: spoilers, it was not a fucking cat, it was a groundhog that took one look at us once we got to the barn, clearly went OH SHIT and hightailed it out of the back of the barn and across the pasture

and like we knew there were groundhogs living around, but we weren’t quite expecting them to actually go in the barn

third exciting thing: we went back into the garage, and Beaker was out again and was Not interested in going back so he came into the house with us for a bit and hung out with me and was Slight Worried about the dog

then later my sis took Ella with her to the barn and let her run around while she did horse chores and my sister’s horse and Ella saw each other and were both making freaked out noises and apparently it was hilarious

#in the life of seb #chicken adventures #chickens

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sadihime · 8 years ago

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YOI Time Travel fic recs

a great desire to love by lily_winterwood

(7/7 Complete | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri | Soulmates AU)

For some strange, inexplicable, fantastic reason, Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov are trading places. Kimi no Na wa AU.

Gods of Circumstance by Ritequette

(6/? WIP | Mature | Viktor/Yuuri)

During his Free Program at the 2016 Barcelona Grand Prix Finals, Yuuri suffers a freak equipment malfunction and falls, hitting his head on the ice.

When he wakes up, surprisingly not dead, he finds himself in the last place he expected...

...the 2015 Sochi Grand Prix Finals. Again.

it’s not the side effect of champagne, i am thinking it must be love by lostincostco

(1/1 Complete | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri )

Somehow, Yuuri gets the distinct feeling he’s being punished for something

Katsuki Yuuri Solemnly Swears That Time-Travel/Alternate Universe Bullshit Did Not Happen With The Intent to Piss Off Yuri Plisetsky by Eldestmiddle

(16/? WIP | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri)

he is wrong

Maelstrom by feelslikefire

(5/5 Complete | Explicit | Viktor/Yuuri)

Victor Nikiforov is poised to win gold in his fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final. He has the world at his feet, is unparalleled in the sport--right up until a snowstorm blows into Sochi, and he finds himself repeating the same day over and over and over. He stumbles over Yuuri Katsuki, and everything changes.

(Or, the time loop au. Loosely based on Groundhog Day.)

News Travels Fast by TheSecretUchiha

(1/1 Complete | General | Viktor/Yuuri)

In which time travel happened but there is no mention of time travel and Viktor and Yuuri like to surprise people, especially reporters.

On my Love by RikoJasmine

(5/ ? WIP | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri )

For the second time, the Sochi Grand Prix Finals arrive, and with it a reborn Yuuri Katsuki. “Viktor,” Yuuri thinks over the pounding of his heart, the crowd going silent as the music begins. “I’ll show the world what you meant to me.”

Yuuri often thinks of his life as Before and After Viktor Nikiforov, the marking point being the day Viktor swept into his life and turned his world upside-down. After many years together, an accident leads to Yuuri suddenly waking up in the Before—back in Detroit, before the GPF, before he ever knew Viktor as anything other than his childhood idol.

As if it had all been just a dream.

Once More, With Feeling by Watermelonsmellinfellon

(5/? WIP | Explicit | Viktor/Yuuri )

"If anything, Yuuri could console himself with the fact that his husband remembered him most of the time and that he still cared about Yuuri in his own way, when he did."

Yuuri wakes up in Detroit after going to bed under heavy stress and emotional turmoil due to Victor's declining mental health. Things are different. He's dreaming obviously. And in dreams, people can do what they want.

So Yuuri decides to do what he wants. If only he could have accepted this new reality. Then the realization wouldn't hurt so much later on. But ignorance keeps the pain of reality away.

the gentle light that strays and vanishes by nauti

(4/4 Complete | General | Viktor/Yuuri)

An idea suddenly bursts into Yuuri’s mind as he looks down at his poodle-decorated phone. It was also not his current one—this one had been broken about a year ago after Viktor had dropped it into the toilet on accident.

He hesitates, his finger hovering over the “on” button. Taking a deep break, he clicks it.

He looks at the date, then promptly drops his phone. For on his home screen was not January 10th, 2019, but instead October 15, 2015.

Eight weeks before the 2015 Sochi Grand Prix Final.

also known as: that fic where Yuuri and Viktor go back in time separately, only to find each other again.

The Switch by BoredPerson69

(2/2 Complete | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri | Soulmates AU )

The Switch was a true mystery to science. Nobody knew how or why it happened, it just did.

Soulmate AU where Viktor switches bodies with his future self after years of believing he didn't have a soulmate.

the thermodynamic cycle of viktor nikiforov by falchion

(1/5 WIP | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri | Time Loop)

When Victor Nikiforov dies in a traffic accident, he is given the chance to go back in time and change the future. What he doesn't realise, however, is exactly how far back he needs to go in order to change the fates of not only himself but also of those he loves.

Turn Back the Clock by IronScript

(17/? WIP | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri)

When Yuuri and Viktor wake up over thirty years in the past, they don't know what to do. Does the other remember?

Luckily that particular question is quickly answered and they can relax slightly, but what about afterwards? Viktor was brought back to right before his first Olympics, and Yuuri isn’t even old enough to compete in Seniors’!

Then there's the fact that they're still very much in love, but a physical relationship would be illegal (and would gross them both out considering Yuuri's age), and they can't count on anyone to just trust them not to do anything age inappropriate. So maybe being long-distance (with as many in-person meetings as possible) would be better until Yuuri becomes a legal adult physically, never mind his actual age.

But it's hard to behave and act naturally when you're forced to be apart from your husband of twenty years, especially during one of the most stressful parts of anyone's life, so Yuuri and Viktor have to distract themselves somehow, right?

Right.

And if everyone around them ends up completely confused and blindsided at their sudden changes (though admittedly they seem to have changed for the better), then so be it!

Unimaginable by emilyenrose

(1/1 Complete | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri )

Sixteen year old Victor spontaneously travels to the future, where he's... retired? And married?

Way to Victory by crea_sei

(7/? WIP | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri)

Defeated after his loss at the GPF 2015, Yuuri doesn't expect anything more from the GPF. That is, until he wakes up on the 5th of December, five days before the GPF even begins.

“I came here to skate,” Yuuri says. “It was supposed to be the last time, the last dance.” He grows quiet.

Viktor is pleading him with his gaze, Don't give up, don't give up, he seems to say. His hands are still on Yuuri's cheeks, warm against the coldness of his skin.

Yuuri smiles. “But you were here,” he says softly.

What You Deserve by socketplug

(2/? WIP | Teen | Viktor/Yuuri )

"World Champion figure skater Viktor Nikiforov was found dead in his apartment in St. Petersburg, Russia, earlier this morning. Investigators say that Nikiforov’s death was most likely the result of a suicide attempt."

Yuuri Katsuki keeps stumbling through different lines of his own story as time continues to loop after one particular event- Viktor Nikiforov, his longtime idol, commits suicide. As Yuuri's choices continue to shape the paths he walks, he finds himself getting to know and love someone who's having a hard time living.

#these are wonderful to read #yuri on ice #yoi fic recs #viktuuri #viktor nikiforov #katsuki yuuri #my fic recs #fic recs #time travel fics #time loop fics #soulmates au

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sending-the-message · 7 years ago

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My Grandpa's Farm by CR_Jones

I didn’t grow up on a farm. I lived in a residential part of my town for most of my young life and only ever got a taste of the farm life whenever my parents and I visited my Grandpa who lived in a more rural part of the state about two hours away from us. The trips to my Grandpa’s farm were memories that I use to cherish as I was growing up, but as time went on and I got older our visits started to become less and less frequent until we stopped going all together. I asked my parents several times why we stopped visiting Grandpa’s like we use to, but they never gave me a straight answer. They would just dance around the question and change the subject before I had a chance to interject.

As time went on and I grew older I stopped caring about Grandpa and his farm. It wasn’t until my first year of college that I started thinking about it all again. I brought it up to my parents during one of my visits back home and a nervous look crossed both of their faces. The old dance-around-the-question routine started to happen again, so I switched the conversation to something else as not to upset my parents with a subject that they clearer didn’t want to talk about.

After my little visit with my parents had ended I took the long trip back to my university. That’s when tragedy struck. I don’t like to talk about this next part very much because the memory of it is still pretty fresh in my mind, but a fire had started in my parent’s house from an unknown source and had unfortunately claimed both of their lives.

College was put on hold for a while as I dealt with the death of my parents. I don’t have much relatives to speak of, at least, not close ones, so I was sent to my Grandpa’s when all of this occurred. I was technically an adult at this point so I didn’t need a new guardian, but I decided that living with my Grandpa was better than living by myself because, above all else, I didn’t want to be alone.

As I drove up Grandpa’s long, gravel driveway the nostalgic feeling of being young again washed over me and I immediately began to feel better. The farm was almost exactly how I remembered it. My Grandpa’s house stood in the middle of a large, open field with the old, but still in good shape, barn right across from it. Standing taller and wider than the house. The acres of land that made up my Grandpa’s property was once just fields of wild grass and hay, but now rows and rows of corn stretched across the land covering every inch of it until it stopped near a large body of trees that formed a barrier around my Grandpa’s entire farm.

I walked up the rock covered side walk onto the porch and took a long look at the view that filled most of my childhood’s favorite memories. I knocked on the door and waited anxiously as I heard someone shuffle over to answer. My Grandpa opened the door and I couldn’t stop the smile from forming on my face. He looked exactly like I last saw. He hadn’t aged a day. He was a short skinny man with wrinkly, old skin about as rough as dried leather.

“May I help you young man?” he said in his gravelly voice. He had a confused look on his face like he didn’t recognize me.

“Grandpa,” I said excitedly, “It’s me. (First name, Last name). Your grandson I came down here all the time when I was younger with my parents.” Saying those last two words caused my breath to hitch a little, but I pushed down the tears and held my smile.

A look of recognition started to creep across my Grandpa’s face after a couple of seconds and he pulled me in for a hug.

“How are you sonny?” he said smiling at me, “How are your parents? I haven’t talked to them in years.”

My body stiffened in his arms. How could he not have known about what happened to my parents? I know they didn’t talk much anymore but it was my father, his son, that died in that fire. I figured that the news of the death of one of his kids would have reached him at some point, but I guess it hadn’t.

He must have seen the confused look on my face because his tone changed.

“What?” he said apprehensively, “Is something wrong?”

I didn’t know how to break the news to him. I thought I wouldn’t have to, but there we were. I couldn’t stop the tears from coming this time. I began to sob and told him that my parents died in a fire several weeks ago.

I expected something out of him. I don’t know what exactly, maybe to cry along with me or to at least show a hint of sadness, but his emotions almost registered as indifferent. I gave him a weird look and his demeanor changed a bit.

“Oh—uh how awful,” he said anxiously, “It’s a shame that bad things happen to such good people.” He patted my shoulder and gave me an understanding look.

Well that was fucking weird, I thought to myself. I figured that my Grandpa’s lack of sympathy towards my parents was in part due to the fact that they had basically exiled him from my life when I was younger, but I don’t know. I still expected some sort of reaction. We walked inside and started catching each other up on what we’ve been up to since we last saw each other almost ten years ago. I went on about school, my parents, friends, and all sorts of other things while my Grandpa sat silently and listened. When I asked him what he had been up to he just shrugged his shoulders and said that not much has happened to him since I last visited. He said that most days he just tends to his farm and listens to the radio.

“I could actually use some of your help around here if you don’t mind.” He told me, “I’m getting older now and can’t quiet keep up with everything that I was once able to do in my younger years.”

“Of course I could help you Grandpa,” I told him. “It’s the least I could for you since you took me in.”

“Great,” he said with a smile. “Now, I hate to bring this up so early, but it’s best that you know now so I don’t freak you out later.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair as he continued. “I have this sleeping condition you see. It’s called insom— asomni— isomni—“

“Insomnia?” I finished for him.

“Yeah, that’s it. I’m an insomniac. I have trouble falling asleep at night so I’ll usually stay up and occupy myself until I’m tired enough to go to bed. I mainly go down to the barn whenever I can’t sleep so you don’t have to worry about me making a racket in here whenever you’re in bed.”

“What do you do in the barn?” I asked him.

I didn’t ask the question in an accusing manner, but a look of nervousness crossed his face for half a second before returning back to normal.

“Oh, I just keep myself busy down there by trying to make something or fix something that’s been broken. You know, just busy work.”

I informed him that I stopped going to college when my parents died and that I probably wasn’t going to finish the semester. He gave me a scoff when I mentioned college to him.

“Now there’s something that I never understood,” he said. “College. It’s a scam if you ask me. I never went to college and I turned out alright. It’s probably a good thing that you don’t finish the semester. You could just help me with the farm instead.”

We finished talking and had dinner. The next morning I began my first day as a farmer. I thought it was going to be hard work seeing that I’ve never done anything like it before, but it actually turned out to be fairly easy. My Grandpa didn’t give me much responsibility around the farm. I don’t know if it was because of a lack of trust or a lack of caring, but either way I was fine with it. I didn’t really want a lot of responsibility in all honestly.

I did some yard work every now and again, and tended to the cornfields every once in a while, but by far my favorite thing to do involved hunting down the gophers and groundhogs that infested my Grandpa’s property. He gave me a small .22 long rifle that I used to shoot them whenever I came across one during the day. I had only ever gone hunting once before with my Dad when I was sixteen, so I didn’t have much skill with a gun, but after a while I got pretty good at shooting the rifle and was more than likely able to land my shoot.

Whenever I shot one of the animals my Grandpa would always take the remains down to the barn, but I never knew what he did with them after that. I thought that I should ask him about it but decided not to seeing that it wasn’t really all that important.

And that’s how it went for a long time with me and my Grandpa. We talked very little to each other, only having short conversations whenever we ate together or happened to cross paths in our day-to-day chores.

As for his insomnia it was true what he had told me. Most nights he was in his barn working on something for hours on end. The barn itself is separated into two sections, the top floor and the bottom floor. The top floor is where he keeps all of his yardwork equipment so I visit that section almost every day, but I’ve never been in the bottom floor before. It was sort of an unwritten rule that I was not allowed to go down there without my Grandpa’s permission. He kept the barn door to the bottom section locked at all times and only ever went down there at night to work on whatever he worked on, or whenever I brought him a freshly shot gopher.

I was curious as all hell about what went on in that part of the barn, but again, I never brought it up with Grandpa. If he would have wanted me to know then he would have told me.

That was it though, that’s how life went on for several months. After a while I began to fall into a daily routine at the farm and was comfortable with how everything was going. I found myself thinking about whether or not I should go back to school whenever it started back up in the fall. I enjoyed working on the farm and could see myself taking it over if that chance ever happened to fall upon me. Sure it had its quirks, just like my Grandpa, but I loved it all the same. As time went on, however; things started to get even stranger than they already were.

Grandpa had started getting more hostile toward me as I became more comfortable living with him. I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but he had definitely gotten more intimidating as time went on. His resting face always looked like he was pissed off at something and he always seemed to have a little bit of venom in his responses whenever I asked him a question. I told myself that his weird behavior was due to the fact that he was a grumpy old man that grew up in a different era than I did, so I wasn’t use to his rugged demeanor. That was just the beginning, however.

During one particularly boring afternoon I managed to find an album of old photos inside one of my Grandpa’s desk drawers. The photos themselves were in great condition having been preserved inside of the album, and most of them were pictures of my Grandpa and Grandma when they were younger. I was never able to meet my Grandma because she had died before I was born.

The only information I had about her came from my Dad and my Grandpa back when I was younger and we use to visit. I hadn’t seen a lot of photos of her before, so naturally this album was of some serious interest to me. While flipping through all the pictures I came across one of my Grandpa in his early twenties wearing what looked like a football uniform. His younger self looked exactly like my Dad did back when he was that age.

I found myself staring at the photo for a very long time soon realizing that a deep sensation of uneasiness had started to wash over me because of something in the picture. I wasn’t able to put my finger on it for the longest time when it all of the sudden hit me. My Grandpa was wearing a Penn State football uniform in the photograph. Something that my Grandpa told me several months earlier replayed in my head.

“College. It’s a scam if you ask me. I never went to college and I turned out alright.”

I kept hearing that phrase over and over again as I stared at the picture. Was he lying to me about not going to college or had he just forgotten about it? I closed the album and set it back into the desk drawer where I found it. Call it a sneaking suspicion or just call it plain paranoia, but it was at this point that I started to become aware that something was not sitting right with my Grandpa.

That night I decided to stay up and investigate what exactly it was that he did whenever he had one of his insomnia fueled barn trips. After cleaning up dinner I told my Grandpa that I was heading to bed early and went up to my room where I waited with the lights off. My bedroom is located on the second floor of the farm house and it has a perfect view of the barn and cornfield which both sit directly across from my bedroom window right on the other side of the gravel driveway about fifty yards away from the front of the house.

I opened my window and patiently waited for my Grandpa to leave the house so I could observe whatever it was that he did from a safe distance. At about 11:30 I heard the front door close shut and looked out the window to find my Grandpa making his way across his yard toward the bottom section of the barn. He pulled out a key chain from his pocket and unlocked the barn door where it made a loud creaking sound as he slide it open. He went in and closed the door behind him. A small orange glow of light could be seen from the bottom of the door as my Grandpa flicked on the light.

I continued to stare out my window down toward the bottom part of the barn coming up with all sorts of crazy ideas about what my Grandpa could be working on down there. An hour went by. Then two. Then three. I thought about going down there and peering in through the crack in the door to see what he was doing, but the thought of being caught by him while I was spying made me shiver, so I stayed where I was. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be happening from my position at the window. Every once in a while I would hear a hammer pounding on metal or a power drill screwing something into place, but nothing abnormal. Just general workshop noises. After hour four rolled around a decided to call it quits and went to bed.

The next morning during breakfast my Grandpa told me that he needed to go into town to pick up some supplies and left me a long list of chores to attend to while he was gone. After we cleaned up breakfast he set off down the driveway in his old ass Lincoln that he kept parked near the house. While I was tying my work boots on and getting ready to begin the day I looked up and noticed a large ring of keys hanging from the key rack next to the front door. It was the same key ring the my Grandpa had used last night.

I had never seen it hanging there before because my Grandpa usually kept it on his person at all times never letting it out of his sight. I snatched the keys from the hook and raced down toward the bottom section of the barn with not a moment to lose. My hands we shaking with anticipation as I tried several of the keys on the locked barn door before finally finding the right one. I slide open the door as a musty, old smell flooded my nostrils. There was a string hanging from a light bulb as soon as you entered the room so I flicked it on and took in everything around me.

It was overwhelmingly plain. The room wasn’t very big, a lot smaller than the upper section of the barn so there wasn’t much to see. A long table stretched across most of the wall to my left which had a variety of different tools laying all around it. There were several old looking animal traps hanging on the walls and a broken down lawn mower laid rusted in one of the corners of the room.

I hadn’t realized how much I had wanted to find something incriminating until I was presented with this disappointingly normal looking room. The only thing that stuck out to me was a dead gopher that was hanging from a hook in the ceiling in the back left corner of the room near the end of the tool bench. A recent kill that I had made yesterday and given to Grandpa as I normally did.

There weren’t any animal pelts from what I was seeing so I was wondering what my Grandpa was going to do with the dead gopher hanging from his ceiling. I walked over to that corner of the barn where I noticed a dirty, bloodied plate that had a fork and knife lying on either side of it. There was still some remanence of what appeared to be gopher intestines on the plate which several flies were now feasting on.

I placed a hand over my mouth a let out a soft “Oh my God” at the grotesqueness that laid before me. Had my Grandpa been eating all the animals that I had brought him? Was he eating them raw? Like he was a fucking wild animal or something?

I didn’t want to be in that room anymore. I ran out of the barn closing and locking the door behind me. I replaced the ring of keys back where I had found them and then went on about my chores thinking the entire time about what I had found. I needed to bring this up with my Grandpa but I didn’t know how. How do you nonchalantly ask someone if they’ve been eating raw animal corpses?

I waited for my Grandpa to get back from town, but he was taking such a long time to get back. I continued the list of chores that he left me to keep myself occupied waiting for his return. It must have worked because I hadn’t even noticed that my Grandpa had gotten home until I saw his Lincoln parked near the house while I was getting equipment from the barn.

I told myself that there was no turning back now and walked up toward the house ready to confront him. But he wasn’t there. I checked all the rooms and even called out to him several times, but I couldn’t find him. As I was walking out I noticed that the key ring was missing from its hook so I went down to the bottom section of the barn and knocked on the sliding door calling to my Grandpa as I did. There was no answer and I noticed that there was no orange glow visible at the bottom of the door meaning that the light wasn’t on either. I got on my hands and knees and looked through the small crack between the door and the ground and peered into the small room. I didn’t see him in there.

I searched the rest of the barn but came up empty handed. I walked around the entirety of my Grandpa’s farm calling for him but had gotten no answer. He didn’t own a cellphone, so I wasn’t able to call him or anything like that. I didn’t know what to do but wait for him inside the house until he finally decided to show up. Lunch came and went, and so did dinner. Still no sign of my Grandpa.

I was starting to get worried that he had gotten lost somewhere in the woods surrounding his house or that he hurt himself somewhere in his cornfield but it didn’t seem likely. I had continued to walk around the property calling his name and yelling for him to answer, so if he was hurt somewhere he would have replied back to me by now.

It was dark by this point and I was lying in bed with the window open unable to sleep when I thought I heard the sound of the barn door being slid open. I got out of bed and looked down toward the bottom section of the barn half hoping that I would see my Grandpa and half dreading what I would do if I did.

The bottom section of the barn laid dark and dormant. No soft orange glow coming from under the door. No sounds of pounding hammers or power drills coming up from inside. I looked out over the rest of the farm straining my eyes against the dark when I noticed movement near the tree line right behind a section of the corn field.

A pale figured darted out from the woods into the corn field where it disappeared for several seconds hidden amongst the stalks. My breath hitched and my heart rate started to increase.

I searched rapidly around trying to find where it had went but couldn’t see the thing anywhere. Seconds later it came sprinting out of the corn field running at a pace that did not seem humanly possible.

The thing looked like a naked man only its legs were much longer and it skin was stark white. It was thrashing its arms above its head in violent, sporadic movements as it ran across the yard where it stopped about half way between the house and the corn field.

I felt like it was looking up toward my window on the second floor. There was no way it could see me because my bed room lights were turned off and I was hiding most of my body behind the curtain, yet there it was looking up at me with two eyes that were impossibly black against its white skin.

After a few seconds the thing sprinted towards the house waving it’s arms above its head with those violent, thrashing motions and I heard the front door crash open as several things proceeded to get knocked over downstairs. I quickly went over to my door and locked it. I kept the .22 long rifle that my Grandpa had given me in the corner of my room, so I grabbed that and pointed it directly at the door with my finger on the trigger ready to fire. My entire body was trembling, but I kept the gun steady in my hands. I pulled out my cellphone and called the police telling them that something had broken into my house. They wanted me to stay on the line with them, but I felt too vulnerable with a phone held up to my ear and wanted to keep both hands on my gun. Loud crashing continued on downstairs for what seemed like hours but what was probably only a couple of minutes.

Luckily for me the thing never made its way up the stairs and after a while the loud noises from down stairs finally went quiet as I heard the creature leave the house. I snuck a quick glance out my window where I saw the thing sprinting off toward the corn fields arms flailing wildly as it went. Just as it broke the tree line of the woods I could hear the approaching sirens of cop cars.

The police found me in my room still holding the .22 and scared half to death of what I just saw. I told the police everything not caring whether or not they thought I was crazy. A full investigation was launched on my Grandpa’s farm where the police uncovered several things that cause my blood to turn cold.

A human skeleton was found half buried in the bottom section of the barn underneath the broken down lawn mower that I had seen in the corner of the room the day I investigated it. The humans remains were old. Over ten years old as a matter of fact. The worst part though was that the skeleton belonged to my Grandpa. My real Grandpa. The one that had apparently been murdered ten years ago around the same time my parent stopped visiting.

It kind of started to make sense in my brain in a really fucked up sort of way. I now knew why my Grandpa hadn’t looked like he aged a day in the over ten years since I last saw him. I understood why he didn’t recognize me right away or why he didn’t show any remorse when I told him that my parents died. It made sense that he didn’t know that he had gone to college when he was younger because that man was not my Grandpa. It was some imposter that killed my real Grandpa all those years ago before taking over his life and appearance.

I began to wonder if my parents knew about the fake Grandpa which is why they stopped taking me there when I was younger. Had they noticed that something was wrong but didn’t know what to do about it? Were they just protecting me all this time? I’d like to think so.

But what about that thing that I saw last night. The pale creature that destroyed the downstairs before taking off into the woods. Was that the imposter? There are still so many questions to this story that don’t have answers, but there is one thing that I know for sure. That thing is still out there. It is out there and it is able to transform into anybody it wants to perfectly. From the dead gopher body that I found I can assure you that it is a meat eater. I don’t know what it wants but it’s already killed one man and I’m sure it won’t stop there. Whatever it is I can assure you it’s not human.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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deutscheshausnyu · 7 years ago

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INTERVIEW WITH WRITER-IN-RESIDENCE VEA KAISER

You published your debut novel Blasmusikpop when you were only 23 years old and it made you instantly famous, in Austria and beyond. How did you experience that time? Did the success of your first published novel come as a surprise to you?

I think one would be absolutely insane not to be surprised about one’s first novel becoming a bestseller. Actually, I expected the opposite. I was so freaked out about finding a publisher willing to publish my book that I didn’t care too much about what happened next. I was just happy that my words would be printed and planned to make ends meet by teaching Latin and German. As soon as the book came out, I had to forget all my teaching-aspiration (to the benefit of Austrian kids) because I found myself in the eye of a hurricane. I had to do book-signings, book-presentations, TV-, print- or radio-interviews nearly every day for more than a year. There was so much to do that I didn’t have the time to think about it. And for that I’m very grateful! If I had realized what was happening around me I would have gone nuts.

When did you know you want to be an author? What inspires you to write?

I never really cared about being an author. I have always wanted to tell stories. I remember this one moment in my childhood that seems to have changed everything. I must have been 6 or 7 years old, my brother 2 or 3 – it was late in the evening and he ran through our apartment, slipped and crushed his chin on the edge of a stair. He hurt himself very badly, his chin was cut open and bled like hell. My brother screamed, I screamed, our mother screamed. Since we were living in the countryside and it would have taken too long for the ambulance to get to us, she put us on the backseat of her tiny car, made me hold a towel against my brother’s wound to stop the bleeding and rushed to the hospital. My brother was crying very badly so I started to tell him a story. As I continued he became calmer and eventually stopped. Before he went in to get stitches he said to me: “When I am done, I want to hear the end of the story!“

That was the moment when I realized how powerful and how important stories are. When we travel, when we’re sick, when we’re sitting in the waiting room of a hospital, there is nothing better than a good story to keep us company or to cheer us up when we feel lonely. And that’s also my inspiration: to know that there are people out there, who need a good story.

Could you tell us a little bit about your creative process and your work routine? When and where do you prefer to write?

Unfortunately, I can only write in the mornings. Actually it HAS to be the first thing I do before having a shower (and after making coffee), or otherwise it doesn’t really work. If I’m under a lot of pressure because of a deadline, I sometimes can work in afternoons or evenings, but the morning’s output is always better. Usually, I switch off the Internet on my computer, my tablet and my phone for 4 to 5 hours and try to sit down as concentrated as possible. Sometimes that works, sometimes I start crying. But even crying is important – I realized it’s not about how much you get done in a day but how much you sacrifice for your writing.

Where I prefer to write is a tricky question. If I had the choice, I’d choose a different place every day. I love changes, I’d love to experience different libraries, coffee places, bars while writing there. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work. I badly need routine. I can write everywhere – but only when I’m returning. New places always distract my attention. So I have to do what I actually dislike: return to the same places. Like in the movie “Groundhog Day.”

Makarionissi spans many centuries and connects many places around the world. One destination your protagonists travel to is the U.S. What made you choose Chicago as the city of interest in the U.S., and what fascinates you about Greece?

Greece is the cradle of culture and democracy. Today Greece is not much more than rock, beach, villages and a lot of blue sea, but the whole world is still talking about it. How could that not be fascinating? And because of Greece Chicago became my city of interest in the US. In 2014, I had the chance to discuss my book at the University of Chicago. Afterwards three very nice students of the German Department took me out to Greektown for lunch. I was really impressed how vivid its Greek culture and tradition was. Some months later while writing Makarionissi I realized, my heroine had to leave Greece and go somewhere abroad to earn money. She was a single young woman, poor, very smart, brave but poorly educated. Suddenly I remembered the Walgreens drugstore in Chicago’s Greektown – all of its signs were in English and Greek. So I thought it would work very well for the story, if my heroine’s family had a 3rd degree cousin who had moved to Chicago 30 years ago and could now help my heroine move to Chicago, find work and earn money there.

Another Greek writer, I appreciate a lot, Aristotle, writes in his Poetics that when creating a story, you should always be concerned to make the story likely. And when writing about a Greek family, it makes sense to include the United States and especially Chicago.

The two Greek settings depicted in Makarionissi, actually do not really exist, compared to other real places you feature, like Hildesheim, Chicago, or St. Pölten. Could you explain why you chose to do that and not refer to Greek cities or islands that really exist?

Actually, both settings depicted exist, but in reality they have different names. I decided not to reveal the name of Varitsi’s model-village because it is very small. Its inhabitants were extremely friendly, shared all their stories with me, also their hurtful stories, and I wanted to secure their privacy. The (fictional) island Makarionissi, after which my book is also named, is based on a real island, but while writing the story I had to alter its size, its economy and other “facts“ to make my story more “likely.” Unfortunately, today’s readers use Google. Especially German readers. And Germans LOVE correcting you. No matter if you crossed a stop sign with your bicycle or if you didn’t stick to reality in a novel – Germans will love to correct you. So I wanted to spare them the work of googling my island and writing me letters about which details of my novel are “wrong.” It’s fiction. And that provides me with the rare freedom of switching between reality and imagination. A freedom we novelists should always defend.

One of the chapters in Makarionissi is titled “Die Schönheit und Erotik der deutschen Sprache.” Would you mind sharing what you love about the German language and do you have any tips for our students for mastering the language?

First of all, the German language is fascinating because of its variety. I grew up in the Austrian countryside and spoke the Austrian version of German, as well as the local dialect, which differs a lot from the German language. And that is something I love: “German” is a language full of variations. Every native speaker will sound different or be able to speak a very different dialect or various variations of this dialect, especially if they are coming from Austria or Switzerland. But that shouldn’t scare students – when people realize German is not your native tongue they will always try very hard to speak slower and clearer and without using their dialect. But those dialects are very fun and full of curious words. For example, there is no better way for swearing and cursing than using the Viennese dialect.

The title „Die Schönheit und Erotik der deutschen Sprache“ is a little ironic. As every other language there are beautiful things about German but also very bad things. The worst thing is that it’s impossible to write about sexuality in German. I never wrote about it in one of my books and I guess I never will. German is not an erotic language and writing about making love in German ALWAYS sounds like there was an embarrassed biology teacher talking. But if I want to talk about it I always use Viennese. It is the only language in the world providing about 50 different words for the female sexual organ and probably 100 of words for reproduction. I think it’s not a coincidence that psychoanalysis was founded in Vienna.

Besides that, German is a very fun language. There are a lot of rules and those rules have a lot of exceptions – what may seem strange at the beginning but makes a lot of sense as soon as you get into it. What I really love is the unique ability of German to create new words by combining existing words. The cutlery drawer of the dish washer would be called Geschirrspülerbesteckschublade. It’s a very playful and especially witty language. Its beauty lies in long sentences, that make you expect something at their beginning but surprise you with something very different in the end.

Finally, may we ask: Are you currently working on a new book? And if so, would you mind sharing some details? Maybe one of your future projects will even feature New York City’s unique vibrancy?

Right now I’m working on my third novel which is supposed to be released in the beginning of 2019. Unfortunately, it seems to be the most voluminous book I’ve written yet and therefore it’s a lot of work. But please forgive me: I’m very, very superstitious and I fear that it’s bad luck if I talk about something I’m writing in that very moment. I’ve done that several times and it always went terribly wrong – the Olympian gods punish those who cannot keep secrets and don’t have patience. There is a time to write and a time to talk. Because of my superstition, I also can’t say what the future brings, but it could easily happen that this unique city will play a part in a future project. It seems that it takes me some years to make something I experienced fruitful for my writing. But in my “smaller projects” New York already plays an important role. In my weekly column in the Austrian newspaper Kurier, I write about my life here, and in my quarterly column, about drinking wine, I wrote about how New Yorkers drink wine. Nearly every day I keep a lot of notes on New York in my note book, we’ll see what happens to them.

All together this city inspires me because of its people. People here don’t care about what others think of them. They follow their dreams, they are creative in how to make ends meet, they are very brave, open minded, witty and unique. Yesterday, I met a guy dressed up as a unicorn. He told me that he actually works in finance but on the weekends he usually dresses up as fancy animals to bring joy to the people around him. And for people like him I adore New York.

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