#I sent my friend a rough version of this yesterday while reading

[nothinggold13]

This is canon, btw.

[hockeyboysimagines]

All good boys go to Heaven but bad boys bring Heaven to you

Chapter 6

Warnings: language, sex, a fist fight, (tw) stalking, lots of angst, and some fluff.

Sorry it’s taken so long. I’ve been trying to get Say it to me softly out, and now it’s finished so this will be updated more regularly. This is a very appropriate gif for this chapter. Stay tuned💕

“Chucky watch out!” Matt turned just as a puck cracked off the side of his helmet and sent him tumbling to the ice. He hadn’t been paying attention during practice, instead thinking all the ‘not sleeping�� he had done the night before. He could hear Noah and Johnny laughing as they skated over and helped him up. He deserved that one.

“Dude you gotta pay attention. What’s going on in there today space cadet?”

He wanted nothing more than to tell them. He was not only thinking about Hallie, but also about the mysterious flowers that had obviously rattled her. So he went with amended version of the truth.

“We’ll actually.” He turned to Noah and leaned on his stick “Has Hallie ever mentioned like a bad boyfriend or anything?”

Noah looked at the ceiling and chewed on his lip for a moment before he shook his head “I don’t think so, not to me anyway. Why?”

He chose his words carefully, keeping his expression cool “Well I showed up at her place yesterday and made her have dinner with me, and while I was there she said she got flowers and she assumed they were from me. But I didn’t send her any, and she got all fucking weird about it.”

“Was there a card?”

He shook his head “No but she was definitely upset. I offered to stay but she said it was fine.”

Johnny rolled his eyes and gave him a shove “Of course you did.”

“I can ask Carly if you want. They tell eachother everything.”

“No it’s okay. I don’t wanna invade her privacy or anything. Just seemed weird to me.”

They went back to running drills but his mind was still elsewhere. The more he thought about it the more her behavior bothered him. She had seemed upset, anxious, and scared and the whole thing had rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t want to get involved in her business but it was really bothering him.

*******

“Come on Hal we’re going to be late.” Carly complained as Hallie shoved her feet into her shoes. She locked the door behind her and dig around in her bag as they took the elevator and exited her building towards the parking lot.

As they walked through the parking lot, she was still digging for her keys when she felt Carly’s hand on her arm forcing her to stop.

“Hal?”

Hallie looked up and felt the blood feeeze in her veins. Rose petals littered her car, moving very gently in the breeze. She took a step backwards turning her head this way and that but the parking lot was empty. She turned slowly towards Carly who was looking at her alarmed.

She began to shake, eyes filling with tears. She thought when she came here this would be over, that she could finally be free and not live her life looking over her shoulder. But she was wrong.

“He found me.”

**********

“Hal? It’s me open the door.” Matt said knocking. He hadn’t heard from her all day, and was starting to get worried when Carly told him she was sick, but was them confused when she texted him and told him to come over. He heard her shuffle around on the other side of the door before she eased it open, big eyes peering at him through the crack.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, come in. Hurry up.”

She yanked him inside and clicked the lock as she shut the door. He frowned at her.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine why?” She breezed past him to pick up her buzzing phone on the counter. As she read the message the color in her face drained.

“Something wrong?”

Hallie stuffed her phone in her pocket and shook her head not meeting his eye.

“No why?”

He shrugged “ you just got super weird when your phone went off that’s all.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You did but it’s none of my business.”

“Your right. It’s not.”

“Maybe I should just go.”

“No!” She grabbed his arm holding him in place “I-I mean sorry. I just had a long day is all. Stay please?” She looked uncomfortable asking him, but there was another emotion he couldn’t identify. Whatever it was, it was convincing.

“I got your mail by the way.” He said setting several white envelopes and a large Manila one down on the counter, and walking from the kitchen to the bathroom. He needed a shower, and went to rummage through the collection of clothing he had accumulated. He had hoped by pulling his shirt off and walking back past the kitchen he could entice Hallie to come shower with him but he found her standing with her back to him, looking at an article of mail in her hand. He could see her trembling from where he stood.

She had opened the large envelope first, noticing it had no return address, but felt bulky and heavy. She felt goosebumps bloom across her skin as a stack of photos slid out and she looked through them. There were dozens, her walking to work, out with friends, her and Matthew. Each photo got progressively closer and some had foul crude writing on them. Mattys face was crossed out on several of them and a few were ripped in half.

“Hallie?”

Matt was standing in the middle of the room, shirtless looking at her, concerned. She thought for a minute about hiding them but she knew that there would be no point. She held the photos out to him and he took them, frowning. His eyebrows furrowed as he shuffled through them.

“What-what is this?” He looked mad now, eyes burning. His knuckles were white as he gripped them ”Who took these?”

She took a deep breath “ His name is Ryan. I dated him for a few months before I moved here, to get away from him. He started stalking me, saying we were meant to be and he couldn’t live without me. I thought I got away from him but he found me. He left roses on my car this morning. And he texted me just now.”

“How long has this been going on?”

She looked down “A few days. That’s where the flowers came from the other day. And I got a weird phone call at my office last week. -“

“A few days? And your just telling me this now?”

“I’m sorry. I thought he would just go away. I was wrong.”

Yeah I’d say you were. We need to go to the police.”

“I already have. They can’t do anything about it. Besides he’s just trying to scare me.”

“ And what happens when that’s not enough for him anymore? What happens then? If you think this creep is going to be content to watch you forever, your wrong. He’s going to hurt you.”

“I know I’m-I’m sorry.”

“That’s it. I’m moving in here.”

“What?! No!”

“It’s not up for discussion. Till this guy goes away I’m staying here.”

She wanted to be annoyed, but in all honesty she was relieved. She felt safe with him in the apartment, and it felt good to get this off her chest.

“And what are we going to tell our friends?”

“Would it be so bad if they just knew about us? I mean really Hal. Your starting to make me feel like I’m just a good lay and that’s the only reason you keep me around.”

She looked hurt for a minute and her expression softened “Matty. I’m sorry.” She put a hand on his arm and rugged him closer “I never meant to make you feel that way. I’m just scared okay. Of this, of Ryan of everything. We will talk about this, but give me some time.”

He pursed his lips for a minute before he nodded.

“Okay. That’s fair.”

She squeezed his arm before wrapping her own around him, her head resting on his chest near his heart. He was so big and safe, any worry she had about Ryan out the window, as she stood listen to his heart beating through his shirt.

She had lived by herself for so long it was weird having a roommate. Especially one who walked around mostly shirtless and slept in her bed. She learned a lot about him in the following days. She learned how incredibly sweet he was, and how much he loved his mom and his sister. She learned he slept on the left side of the bed, that he never had a dog growing up, and that he was not the pest that everyone saw on the ice. She learned that he loved to dance, and they had spent much time slow dancing in her kitchen, and that he could talk about everything and anything late at night. His voice, which had annoyed the hell out of her just a few months ago, now soothed her every time she heard it. She liked seeing him smile at her across the table, or next to her while they brushed teeth, and his presence had become a comfort that she never knew she needed. She had fallen hard for Matthew Tkachuk, just like she knew she would.

One particular rainy Sunday morning she had woken up to his big rough hands barely brushing the bare skin of her back. She rolled over eyes still closed, lips immediately finding his in the dim light of her bedroom. He kissed her deeply, lips moving slowly, tongue pushing inside her mouth. There was already minimal clothing on, so it didn’t take long before he was pushing inside her. She let out a breath, eyes closing slowly. Each time was more enthralling than the last time. He moved slowly, lazily hot breath on her neck. She reached up, running her fingers through his hair. She could her the dull pounding of rain hitting her window, the thick grey clouds making the room dim. But she could see those eyes burning into her own, as he moved above her, curls falling into his eyes. He leaned down and kissed her heavily, as his pushes became faster until he let out a ragged breath as she tensed around him, her own high coming with his.

“Can we stay in bed all day and do that again?”

Before she could answer she heard her front door open and then close. Panic rose in her throat as Matt jumped off the bed, yanking a pair of gym shorts on and banged the bedroom door open. He couldn’t believe this creep was bold enough to come into her apartment in broad daylight, but he was going to kill him before he got the chance to ever do it again.

“Matty wait!” She whispered pulling a T-shirt over her head as she hurried out behind him. To her horror it was not Ryan in her kitchen, but Noah and Carly standing there with wide eyes and open mouths.

“What the hell?” Noah said, eyebrows raised so far up his forehead they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline.

Hallies face had bypassed Red and turned Maroon as she shrank down behind him under Carly’s glare.

“Are you two serious right now?” She asked hands on her hips, looking between them.

“How long has this been going on?” Noah asked. He too was frowning, arms crossed. He knew something was up, and they had become even more suspicious when Hallie started being magically busy the past few weeks, coupled with Matthew being notably absent and coming and going at all hours. They had never though thought in a million years they would find them shacked up together in Hallies apartment.

Matthew took a deep breath and turned to look at her before looking back at their friends “Since that weekend at the lake.”

Carly sucked in a loud breath, eyes huge. She sputtered for a few moments, words completely escaping her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked after a few moments. She looked hurt. Hallie had wanted to tell her so bad, but she didn’t want to say it out loud. She was so scared that she had even let him in, but now to tell everyone else? That was terrifying.

“Let’s talk about this another time yeah?” Noah said, giving Carly’s arm a gentle squeeze.

“No.” Matt said “Let’s talk about it now. We didn’t tell you guys because we didn’t really know what to say. I honestly still don’t know what this is.”

“But there’s something else too.” Hallie reached behind her to pick up the envelope full of photos and handed them to Carly. She looked alarmed as she pulled them out, face turning white.

“Hallie.” She whispered.

“What the fuck?” Noah said, grabbing a few photos from Carly’s hand, and looking at both of them clearly confused.

“Sit down.” Matt said, patting the counter and walking to the fridge to pull out the liquor “We’ll tell you everything.”

And they did. They started with the lake house and went from there. Hallie and Carly walked Noah and Matt through the details on what had happened with Ryan and how they had come to Calgary to get away from him. Noah was so angry about the stalking, and the fact that she had kept it from them, he gave her a very stern talking to.

“This creep could have hurt you. Both of you.” He said glaring at Carly as well “We can’t keep you safe if we don’t know what we’re trying to keep you safe from.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Carly said giving his hand a squeeze.

“Now that we’re all in the loop I think we can agree that you two can’t go places alone for right now.” Matt said rubbing his chin “It’s just the way it is. Until this guy goes away or does something to get arrested for it has to be this way. When we have away games you two have some kind of sleepover or something. Have Jay come too.”

Carly giggled “I don’t really see Jay taking down an intruder, but safety in numbers right.” They laughed and the mood seemed to change. They decided to order takeout, and Hallie realized how much better she felt not keeping secrets. To finally have her and Matt out there in the open felt good, and natural.

After Noah and Carly left, it was just them in her apartment. He was smiling at her, a smile she hadn’t seen before. He walked very slowly towards her, eyes burning into her own.

“Thank you.” He said coming to a stop in front of her, hands resting on her shoulders.

“For?”

“For telling our friends. I know it wasn’t easy, and I know you didn’t want to, and I know your not my girlfriend or anything but thank you.”

“You haven’t actually asked me to be your girlfriend.”

He shrugged “I’m not really in the market for a relationship right now so.”

She gaped at him till he burst out laughing and swept her up, carrying her down the hallway towards her bedroom.

“Come on. Let’s go do boyfriend girlfriend stuff.”

********

As news of their new relationship spread, Matthews performance on the ice skyrocketed. He was having a great season, exploding on the ice and making headlines every game. He was still a pest, and that would probably never change, but he found himself playing with a confidence he didn’t know he had.

Plus it was an added bonus to look up and see Hallie sitting in the stands, looking so damn good with his name across her back. She was a steady constant in his life, and he found that having a real relationship was better than any hookup.

After one particularly physical game, Hallie waited nervously in the hallways outside the dressing room. Noah exited followed by Johnny and came over dropping a kiss on Carly’s cheek and turning to Hallie with a smile. Johnny gave her a gentle bump on the shoulder and grinned when he saw her expression.

“He’ll be out in a second.”

She peeked our from behind Him, as the door banged open and Matt came through the doors of the locker room, wet curls falling around his face with a casual elegance, cheeks pink, tie loosened around his neck. His eyes searched around the room till they landed on her and he smiled.

That damn smile.

He accepted a few pats on the back from his teammates as he made his way over to her, and stopped a few feet in front of her. She looked him over not noticing any injuries or blood and he held his arms out wide.

“ I’m fine Hallie. “

She breathed an audible sigh of relief and fell gratefully into his arms. He was so big and warm and she closed her eyes and breathed him in.

Watching Him fight had been a confusing expression to say the least. She had seen videos of it on YouTube but watching it happen live was completely different than through the tv screen. It was horrible because he was her boyfriend and she didn’t want him to get hurt, but it was enthralling to watch him throw his 6”2 frame around with such confidence on the ice. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or smack him and the whole experience had left her emotionally drained.

They made idle chatter as they made their way out of the SaddleDome and into the parking garage, making plans to get together with some other guys from the team the following evening.

Once they were buckled in the car he turned to find her already staring at him.

“What?”

Her eyes were squinted and her head was turned to the side and like a flash of lightning she had hopped from the passenger seat to the back. He wasted no time following her, as they hurriedly pulled at whatever clothing was necessary to come off. She tugged the zipper of his suit pants down, and hiked up her skirt. She was dressed for work, having come to the game right from there with no time to change. She motioned for him to sit but he shook his head and leaned her back against the backseat, coming in between her legs. She settled in, opening her legs. His eyes bugged as he watched her pull the skirt up to reveal she wasn’t wearing stocking, but black thigh highs, and no underwear.

“Hal.” He breathed as she pulled his suit pants down enough and guided him towards her entrance. Her eyes closed and she arched back against the seat at the sensation of him pushing inside of her. He pushed again, adrenaline pumping through him as he quickened his pace, pushing deeper with each thrust.

“Matty.” She breathed, pulling his face to hers so she could kiss him. She fisted his dress shirt in her hands, as she pushed her tongue inside his mouth kissing him sloppily. Her legs began to ache as his pushed became erratic, and she came, him following shortly after. They say breathing heavily for a few minutes before he pulled out of her and sat next to her, situating his suit pants and turning to her. She smiled tiredly at him, eyes closing as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“Take me home.”

********

Hallie felt a twinge of annoyance at the way the girl was so obviously flirting with him and he was doing nothing to stop her. After a long night and a lot of sex, Hallie was overly tired and hadn’t really been in the mood to go out at all. She only had because she promised Carly she would. Matthew had gone to the bar to get a drink and was immediately approached By some bimbo in a short skirt, and that was all it took to bring Hallies mood down even more than it already was.

“Relax Hal.” Carly warned. She could feel an angry heat creep up her neck as she watched him smile at the girl, way to friendly for a guy who had a ‘girlfriend.” She angrily slugged the rest of her drink before setting it down loudly on the table.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” She said stand up and storming towards the ladies room sign, glaring at the back of the girls head who was flirting with her boyfriend.

She burst through the door, startling several girls who were fixing their makeup and blinked away angry tears while she went pee. Who did he think he was? They finally tell their friends the truth and here he was laughing and smiling with some random girl in the bar.

When she exited the bathroom she felt a hand on her arm. She turned ready to chew Matt out, when she realized the hand wasn’t his. She froze. It felt like someone was pouring maple syrup over head, and it was trickling down her body suffocating her as she came face to face with Ryan.

“Hi Hallie. I’ve missed you.”

“Get away from me Ryan.”

“I’m sorry about the photos, it was the only way I knew to get a hold of you after you blocked my phone number.”

“And what about the flowers on my car? How did you find my apartment?”

“I just know that you really love pink roses.”

“How did you find my house?”

He took a step forward and backed her further into the corner. Carly had noticed the exchange from across the bar and stood suddenly knocking her stool back and startling Noah. Matt turned from the conversation he was having to look at her as she jumped over the stool.

“That’s Ryan.”

As Hallie tried to maneuver around Ryan he grabbed her arm.

“Hallie please talk to me.” As she tried to pull away there was a commotion and Ryan’s face went white, a look of terror flashing across it. She turned just in time for a fist to come flying over her shoulder and connect solidly with Ryan’s face.

“Matty no!” She tried to grab on to the back of his T-shirt as he surged forward, punching Ryan again. He was so much bigger than her and she struggled nearly falling forward, until Noah appeared and grabbed Matt around the middle hauling him backwards. Johnny was standing looking at the scene with his mouth open and Carly was attempting to help Noah pull Matt towards towards the entrance. Hallie bit back tears and gave Ryan once last glance before she followed her friends out of the bar.

She burst through the door of her apartment not checking to see if he was behind her or not. She was so angry at him for what he had done she didn’t even want to look at him.

“Look I’m sorry okay?” He said leaning against the doorframe. The cut above his eyebrow had stopped bleeding and he was flexing his fingers, bruises beginning to bloom across his knuckles. “I just. When I saw that guy grab you like that, I don’t know. I just reacted” He looked at his hand and sighed “ it’s cuz I fucking love you okay?”

“You have to stop punching first and asking questions later. You almost punched me in the face!”

“I would never punch you in face Hal-“

“Your fist was two inches from hitting me.”

He looked at his feet embarrassed before she continued.

“And don’t think I didn’t see you flirting with that girl either!”

“What? What girl?”

“The bimbo at the bar who’s chest you couldn’t stop staring at! Thanks for making a complete idiot out of me in front of everyone!”

“This is never gonna change is it? Your never going to trust me.”

“Give me one good reason why I should?! You fill my head with air about wanting to have relationship with me then you flirt with some girl at the bar!”

They were standing ten feet apart, red faced and screaming at each other.

“I don’t need this.” He snapped grabbing his he let and leaving the room. She followed him.

“No you don’t need this and you clearly don’t need me either. Get out!”

“I am. And I won’t be coming back either.” He slammed the door behind him as she stood there, fists balled up at her sides. She listened to him walk angrily down the hallway until his footsteps could no longer be heard.

[my-soul-sings]

just my luck: chapter 1

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Taehee x Reader 

Summary (placeholder): Having been cursed to live a life filled with misfortunes, moving to a new city to start anew was, as expected, a difficult process. But things start to change after you encounter a mysterious doctor who seems to know you even though you’ve never met him before. 

Notes:

Will contain spoilers for Taehee’s Story. 

The ‘Reader’ character will be left unnamed, and there are no mentions of ‘y/n’.

Taehee is trained in western medicine here, instead of oriental medicine.

The reader character will not be based on the in-game MC, other than her looks. The differences are because personally I think the in-game MC and Taehee’s personality don’t really match somehow.

This is basically my version of events of how Taehee and MC meet again. The details and events in this are not true to the game, other than Taehee’s backstory. 

For now it’ll be here on tumblr (if and until I move it to AO3) and i’ll be using the tag #justmyluck on the blog for chapter updates. 

***

The rain was loud in your ears. Cars whizzed by you, water splashing beneath the tires and onto the pavement as they went by, and people hurried about with their umbrellas that did little to keep them dry in this torrential weather. 

You stood still in the middle of the hustle and bustle, your luggage by your side and your broken umbrella hanging limp and useless in your hand. The cold rainwater seeped into your clothes, and you shivered as a chill ran down your spine when the strong wind blew against your frame. 

You could feel odd stares being directed your way, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your phone battery had been depleted, which meant you could no longer refer to Poogle Maps to get to where your new apartment was. You had already waited for the past hour trying to hail a cab to no avail, and no one was accepting your request on the Duber app. 

As if moving wasn’t stressful enough already, all of this just had to happen. But you weren’t surprised in the least—it was just another typical day in your unfortunate life. 

For as long as you could remember, you had terrible luck. At first it was trivial things like always getting the shitty prizes in a lucky draw no matter how many times you spun the wheel, and always losing in games of chance against friends. No matter where you went or what you did, it seemed you were doomed to consistently draw the short end of the stick. 

Your luck seemed to only get worse as you grew older. Injuries grew increasingly common, and more severe. You didn’t think there were so many ways a person could get hurt—you had to learn it the hard way, from slipping on a banana peel, getting knocked down by someone who accidentally ran straight into you, getting hit by stray soccer balls or baseballs in school… The events were countless. 

Your classmates used to joke that you had been cursed by a witch when you were younger. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if that was true after all. There was only so much bad luck one person could have in their life, and you seemed to be attracting a never-ending supply of it. 

You’d hoped that maybe things would change after moving to this new neighbourhood. You had even specifically asked for an apartment that had ‘good feng-shui’, hoping that would make some kind of difference.

It didn’t. You hadn’t even arrived in your new home yet, but you could already tell that things weren’t going to change. If you had been cursed by a witch or been fated to suffer neverending misfortune, then moving to a new neighbourhood to start afresh wasn’t going to change anything. 

With a sigh and a shiver, you decided to shake yourself out of your low spirits. No point dwelling on these things, you may as well hurry to your apartment before something worse happened. So you picked up the handle of your luggage and continued trudging on, your feet making squelching sounds with each step from the water that had filled your shoes. You’d get home one way or another, and a little rain wasn’t about to stop you.

Just as you finished that thought, the handle of your luggage broke, and the whole thing tumbled straight into a muddy puddle, sending specks of mud flying and staining your jeans.

It took everything in you to suppress a frustrated scream when you dipped your fingers into the dirty waters to pick up your luggage again. 

***

By the time you arrived at the apartment building, you looked like you had been to hell and back. 

But hey, at least you had come out alive, right?

Your landlord had been surprised to see you drenched from head to toe, and she had kindly offered a fresh towel and some hot tea for you after inviting you into her home. She was a kind elderly lady, and her warm welcome brightened your mood considerably. The tea had felt extra warm as you made small talk with her before taking the key to your apartment. 

But then your mood sank right back down to rock-bottom when you realised that you had to carry your heavy luggage up five whole flights of stairs, because it just so happened that the elevator wasn’t working. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anyone you could ask for help—certainly not the sweet old landlady. You felt bad to bother any of your neighbours too. 

So an hour and one rough tumble down the stairs later, you miraculously made it all the way up to your door. You would be jumping for joy if your arms didn’t feel like they were about to fall off. All you wanted to do was take a hot shower, lie down and get some sleep. Maybe take some painkillers before that too, because you could feel a migraine coming up. 

The apartment smelled a little musty when you entered, but otherwise, everything looked great. It was bare, seeing as there was some delay in the delivery of your furniture, but it was clean. There weren’t any bugs that you could see from a quick survey of the rooms, so that was good enough in your book. 

Looking around your simple studio apartment, you smiled to yourself, glad that you had finally made it here despite the many hiccups along the way. Nothing could dampen your spirits now; moving here marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life, and you were ready for your new job that would be starting in two weeks. 

You had a good feeling about all this somehow, despite dripping wet all over your floor and even though your sides hurt from falling down the stairs together with your luggage earlier. 

Cursed or not, you were excited about living here already. 

***

Two days later, your furniture still had not arrived. You had to make do with the sleeping bag you’d packed in your luggage for contingencies such as this. The moving company wasn’t getting back to you even though you had sent them a string of emails asking for updates. You hoped it was just a lack of staff around on the weekends, and that someone would get back to you by Monday.

Apart from that, there weren’t any major problems. Everything in the apartment was working fine. You had made sure to check everything to make sure you wouldn’t suffer some kind of freak accident in your own home—it had happened before, when the ceiling fan in the living room fell just when you left to take a drink. (Looking at it from another angle, you had been incredibly lucky with that close shave.)

The only issue left was the fever that you had woken up to that morning, definitely because you had been caught in the rain. Thankfully, the landlady had informed you that there was a clinic just across the street, so you made plans to go after forcing yourself to eat half of an apple. You didn’t have an appetite but you’d probably faint on the way if you went on an empty stomach, and ending up in the hospital was definitely not on your to-do list here. 

It was warm out when you stepped out of your apartment building. The sun was up, and the temperature was just right. Perfect for a walk. You’d probably enjoy it better if your head wasn’t pounding so much. 

It wasn’t too difficult to find the clinic. Like the landlady said, it was right across the street, a mere five minutes’ walk from your apartment. And then right down the street was a convenience store too. You’d go pick up some snacks and ready-made foods later — it’d be too tiresome to cook while sick.

The clinic wasn’t too full, thankfully. There were maybe about four to five people inside when you arrived, and after registering at the counter you took a seat and checked your phone. You hadn’t had the energy to reply to anything yesterday, so it seemed that your phone had blown up while you were gone.

The messages were mainly from Seohee, your best friend. You saw multiple missed calls and messages from her, and from what you could glean from the message previews, she had been worried because you just went MIA without updating her on your whereabouts. She had been worried from the start when she heard that you were going to live alone in a new city, without anyone accompanying you. 

Grimacing, you swiped right to open the chat, and you typed a quick message to assure her that you were doing fine and adjusting great, casually omitting the part where you had fallen sick and your furniture hadn’t arrived yet. No need to worry her, she had enough things on her plate to manage. 

The other messages were from random group chats that you didn’t have the energy to read at the moment, so you locked your phone and closed your eyes momentarily, leaning back in your seat and resting your head against the wall. The doctors seemed to be taking a while…

About half an hour later, your number was called. Finally. 

You stood up a bit too quickly, and black spots promptly appeared in your vision while your head started to spin. A nod was all you could manage when the receptionist pointed to one of the rooms down the hallway, while you took hesitant steps forward and tried to steady yourself. Eventually the dizziness subsided and your head cleared up a bit when you read the name written on the door plate: Dr. Taehee Kim. 

You repeated the name a few times in your head. It had a nice ring to it. You knocked twice on the wooden door and pushed down on the door handle to enter.

“Good morning.” You heard a deep, male voice, and your first thought was that you liked it. There was a soothing quality to it, and maybe it was an exaggeration but your headache seemed to lessen just from hearing him speak. 

You looked up, wearing a polite smile and returning the morning greeting. Or at least, you were about to, but then your voice caught in your throat and you found yourself staring into the eyes of who was quite possibly the most gorgeous man you had ever seen. He had thick, wavy black locks parted to the side, and a pair of deep set, dark grey-ish green eyes—a colour you had never seen before. His complexion was fair and otherwise flawless, and you could tell from his defined jawline and broad shoulders that he worked out regularly too. He looked handsome enough to be a model, and you couldn’t help but stare with widened eyes, while heat began to gather in your face. Whether it was from the fever, or because of him, you couldn’t tell. 

But getting to see such a handsome doctor… today had to be your lucky day. For once. 

The only thing was, it seemed to be the exact opposite for him. Contrary to the tone of his greeting, he now looked like he had just seen a ghost. He sprang to his feet the moment he saw you, and his chair rolled backwards until it hit the wall behind him with a loud thump. His eyes were blown wide, lips parted as he stared at you, searching your face for something… You didn’t know what, exactly. 

The normal thing to do now would be to sit in the empty chair next to his desk and for him to do his job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move a single step. Not when he was looking at you like this, as if he had a million things to say but couldn’t. So you stood there, feet glued to the spot by the door as you stared back, blinking and confused. 

He spoke again after the tense silence stretched on for much longer than you’d have liked. 

“Is… Is it really you? Am I dreaming? Is this… real?”

In the silence of the room, his shaky whisper rang loud and clear in your ears. 

Affection. Sadness. Longing. They were unmistakable in his wavering voice, in his eyes that were starting to glisten with what seemed like tears. 

The only problem was, you didn’t understand why. Much less why it was being directed to you. You were missing something here, or maybe it was him. You didn’t know. Your head hurt, and you just wanted some medicine, and then to go home to sleep this fever off. 

But now your doctor was walking towards you, each footstep ringing in your ears as he drew closer and closer, his perplexed expression remaining the same. And for some reason you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, much less find the strength to push him away when he stood an arm’s length away and gently held you by the shoulders. Even the way he tried to hold you was strange — his hands were shaking and his palms were barely brushing against your shoulders, hesitant and afraid. 

Maybe you had spoken too soon. It probably wasn’t a lucky day at all—when would you learn? Now you were stuck in an office with a weirdo who was getting way too emotional over a simple consultation.

“A-Are you… okay?” The words came out as a timid squeak, and you watched as he blinked, though his eyes didn’t lose the glass-like quality to them. The ceiling light was reflecting off his eyes, and they seemed to be glistening with fresh tears.

“I never thought… I… I can’t believe it’s- it’s- H-How could this happen?” 

You flinched when you felt something brush against your cheek, and it took a few seconds for you to realise that the back of his hand was ghosting over your skin. 

Belatedly, your fight-or-flight response finally kicked in and you pushed his hand away, putting your hands out to make him step back and put some much-needed distance between you. Handsome or not, this guy was getting downright creepy and inappropriate.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, and I think you’ve got the wrong person. I’ll just go to another clinic-” You turned around, ready to hightail it out of his office, when you felt his hand on your wrist, holding you in place. 

“No, wait. Please- Please wait. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault.”

A voice pounded in your head then. An image flashed in your mind, one of a man who didn’t belong in this time period. He was dressed in traditional clothes, and he was holding you with tears streaming down his face. You couldn’t quite make out his face from the blurred picture that came and went like lightning, but the sound of his voice was the same as this doctor’s desperate plea. 

Then dizziness hit you once more, but this time it didn’t subside. The last thing you remembered before your vision turned black was the sound of him calling your name. 

***

A/N: I will be leaving this on tumblr for now, I’ll probably start posting on AO3 when I have more chapters ready to post. :) I’d love to hear your thoughts on this first chapter and thank you for reading! :)

[ivory-sunflower]

Arty Art Things ✨

Hellooo!

I've decided to post some of the arty things I've done either recently or in the last few years, well the pieces I'm somewhat proud of at least. All my posts tend to be a lot more wordy than they need to be but hey it's what I do here!

Conchúr White

Anyone one who's been on this blog for a bit will have probably have seen me talk about this lovely Irish fella. The pencil drawing is actually a year old as of yesterday, I only know that because screenshots of me flipping out about Conchúr following me on twitter popped up in my memories yesterday. I think I'd sent it to him at about 3 in the morning (I was not in a good head space at that point in time), so probably not what he was expecting to see when he opened his phone in the morning aha

The biro version is much more recent: I got bored while sat at my desk and doing research about university courses, saw a biro, saw my old drawing of Conchúr, had an idea. I revisited my GCSE art techniques and here we are. Again, I put this up on Twitter and now (at the the time I'm writing this) when you google "Conchúr White" it's the third top image of him which is a bit mad really. I think I spent all of about 20 minutes on Conchúr but another 45 minutes on the words behind him. The words are the names of the songs on his EP 'Bikini Crops', he doesn't just really love the idea of Channing Tatum driving him around at night in a daisy print bikini... Well maybe he does but what he does in his spare time is none of my business...

TechDif

So I mentioned that the pencil drawing of Conchúr came from a rough patch in my mental health and this one is no different! In fact this one came from an even worse circumstance so we love to see it. I had a bad, bad time in July and this started as a way of distracting myself from what was going on in my head. Without it, I can't honestly say I'd still be here so even if the final product of this had been a terrible mess I would still love it for keeping me alive. However, it did not turn out to be a terrible mess!

Now that the origin of this is out the way, where do I start with TechDif? Unlike Conchúr, I haven't really talked about them on here (unless you count one brief post about Citation Needed) before so I guess I'll do it here. The Technical Difficulties are a wonderful group of 4 British fellas who have had their fair share of fun online and even before. They did a radio show at university together, which went on to become their Reverse Trivia Podcast, later moving on to a panel show called 'Citation Needed': and a game called 'Two of These People Are Lying'. All of which I would thoroughly reccomend, they're one of my go to things when I'm having a rough time. All 4 of them are excellent! Tom Scott (red top, blue jeans on the picture) has his own YouTube channel which does content aside from TechDif. If you're quite nerdy and like science, linguistics, computers, or any number of other things you may enjoy Tom's channel. He is probably best described as "The Moderator" of the group, much like a tired teacher he tries desperately to keep everyone on track with what they're meant to be doing, but usually it does not end well for him. Then we have Matt Gray (space top, holding an ice cream) who also has a channel away from TechDif stuff, he does techy electronic things and has a series called 'Will it Soft Serve?' where he puts all kinds of strange things through a soft serve machine. Matt brings a very specific energy to TechDif and I can't fully describe what that vibe is but I love it. Matt and Tom also share a YouTube channel where TOTPAL is posted and they had a series called 'The Park Bench'. Moving on to everybody's favourite Gary Brannan: Gary Brannan (SATIRE hoodie, glasses) and can I just say, what a fella he is! He's just excellent! He is the one that will argue and rip into Tom the most (not in a malicious way) and hilarity ensues. There are some episodes where he is absolutely on it, getting all the points and others where he very clearly has no idea and that's where some of his funniest quotes come from. Given how badly I was doing at the time I made this, his response to it on Twitter was so so lovely. I specifically remember one tweet where he said I'd made him happy and although it was probably a flippant comment, it just made feel alright for a bit. Yeah I might be feeling awful right now, but I've made someone else happy so that's a nice feeling. Then last but certainly not least, we have Chris Joel (buffalo check shirt, beard)! I would be lying if I said he isn’t my favourite... His sense of humor is the one I vibe with most, he can get rather dramatic in parts and can chat bollocks like a champion. He has absolutely no online presence away from TechDif and, like Rens from Temples, I fully believe he’s a cryptid and lives off in a tree somewhere. 

The picture took me about 4 days to complete, well 4 nights because I did most of it between the hours of 12 a.m. and 7a.m. - I remember watching the sun come through my window each morning. It’s made up of lots of little pieces, all cut out and stuck on; even the sky and hills are made of separate pieces of paper. Nothing was actually drawn on the piece of paper it’s all stuck on, it’s not how I usually do things but if I messed up one little but I could just redraw it rather than ruining the whole thing. The most tedious parts to make were Chris’ shirt because I had to draw each square individually and then join the as well, and cutting out the ban-hammer in the bottom right was surprisingly hard. Every single detail of the picture is a reference to the podcast/shows, I still have the plan sketch and reference list knocking about somewhere. I listened to a lot of true crime videos while making it to the point that certain parts remind me of different cases: the brandy now reminds me of Peter Tobin, and the big spiral thing reminds me of Tim McLean (very harrowing case) - sorry that fact is a bit morbid but interesting nonetheless. 

I did post this for a little bit back in July, but I received some rather awful messages so I took it down. Generally, Tom Scott/TechDif fans are lovely but there’s been a few that have taken a disliking to me for some reason so I’m hoping they don’t resurface again. I’m in a better head space now though, so even if they do I’m more equipped to deal with it this time.

Hozier

This was a quick sketch I did in April, I was getting bored with lockdown and decided to summon the bog man himself. There’s not really much more backstory than that, no poor mental health story, no fun twitter story - he’s just here. He’s vibing. I will say I’m particularly proud of his nose, I just think it’s one of the best noses I’ve ever drawn. His hand is okay, but I think that the hands on my Conchúr drawings are better. So there is the Hozi-Boi...

The Corpse Bry

I’ve talked about Bry on here before as well, I love him, he’s excellent, top lad. He is a living Tim Burton character, he’s 6′6, very skinny, and his legs are longer than my will to live. I was watching ‘The Corpse Bride’ a few weeks ago and suddenly had an idea and so ‘The Corpse Bry’ came to be. I gave him a little panda friend because the panda has always been his animal - he used to wear a panda beanie all the time and his album had a panda on the cover. Again, there’s not really a fun story behind this one, I guess it’s somewhat fun because it’s the first art I made after finishing my psychology exams in October so it was nice to actually have the time to draw.

James Bagshaw

Ginger talking about Temples for the third post in a row? it’s more likely than you think! I did this one last week, I’d had a bit of a wobbly day and had group therapy on Teams in the evening and I just couldn’t concentrate on what was going on and I ended up doodling Mr James E. Bagshaw, the glitter crying fraggle man himself. It’s a bare-bones drawing that I could definitely work into more but I’m happy with it as it is to be honest. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit and add the individual bits of fringe to his jacket, just thinking about doing that makes me tired. Maybe I’ll get around to drawing the whole band at some point...

Alice in “Wonderland”

This one is from about 5(?) years ago, it’s not my typical style and was a “study” based on another artists work (basically i just had to copy this fellas work). I’ll be honest, this one has a sketchy backstory that I won’t go in to because it’s not exactly a nice one, and because of that I also won’t say who the artist is that it’s based on. Despite this, I’m still really proud of this one and I’m so sad that I never got this piece back after I got taken out the class. I’ve considered trying this style again, I’ve even joked about doing another Conchúr drawing in this style as a nod to my progression through GCSE art, eventually leading to Conchúr drawn in ink on music manuscript and stained with neon paint and dyes - it would be quite the project!

So this has been quite a lengthy post so apologies about that but life goes on. Similar to the vinyl post, I’ll probably add to this as and when I make more art. Even if no one is reading these posts, I’m enjoying making them so that’s the main thing. It’s just nice to document things and the feelings that go with them. 💕

~ Love Ginger xx 

29/11/2020

[duskowithapen]

Of Flowers and Tattoo Needles Chapter Two

Read on AO3

Read on Fanfiction

Read Chapter One

The Flowers

Luka walked into the Secret Garden. Juleka took one look at his face, sighed, and led him towards the backroom. “Be glad I hadn’t had time to take this home,” she grumbled, emerging from the freezer with a tub of caramel ice cream tucked under one arm. After a moment, a spoon appeared under his nose.

Rose looked up from where she was doing paperwork. “What happened Luka? I thought you and Marinette would get along really well!”

With a groan, Luka flopped into a chair. “We were!” He totally-didn’t-whine. “She designed the most kick-ass looking tattoo that was everything I wanted, she gave me the friends and family discount, she didn’t laugh at me when I flirted…”

“Well, that’s an improvement,” Juleka sassed from her own ice cream rub – strawberries and cream, because she was a sap for Rose, who she was intermittently feeding. “But I can’t see the issue…?”

“It was all going well until her boyfriend showed up.” Luka glared over his ice cream. “So thanks for the warning, guys.”

Rose frowned and put down her pen. “What do you mean? Marinette doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“She was moaning about it during our last girls night,” Juleka interjected. “Talking about how all the guys who came into her shop seemed to be over-muscled sissies who cried the second they saw the tattoo needle.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what to tell you. Him and Marinette were definitely close.” Luka was about ready to drown himself in his ice cream. Even the excitement over his tattoo had faded into abject misery. He looked into the depths of his slowly melting ice cream, recalling the last ten minutes with perfect clarity.

Marinette looked like she was going to devour him. Her eyes kept flicking between his, darting down to his lips and back. She had even started to lean in when someone coughed.

“Uh, excuse me, am I interrupting something?” It was a tall blonde, formally dressed in a pressed black suit that made his eyes stand out (yes, Luka noticed. He might have been besotted with Marinette, but he wasn’t blind.) While his question may have been innocent, the smirk that crossed his face wasn’t.

Marinette’s face lit up bright red as she jumped out of her seat. “Adrien! I wasn’t expecting you here till 4.30!”

“Look at the time, buginette. If I’d known you had another client, I would have waited.” Adrien laughed as he wrapped the smaller girl up in a hug, lifting Marinette off her feet.

Luka glanced down at his phone, while Marinette began to stutter out apologies. 4.28. He couldn’t have been a couple of minutes late, Luka thought bitterly.

“I’m really, really sorry Luka!” Marinette had come back, the blonde – Adrien – wandering away to look at dragon tattoos. “I didn’t realise how long I’d spent on your tattoo, and Adrien had been a last-minute booking, so I’d completely forgotten!”

“It’s okay, Marinette.” With an internal sigh, Luka gave her a smirk. “Gives me a reason to come back.”

It seemed to snap Marinette out of her anxious haze.

He didn’t know if it was his words or his smirk, but something snapped Marinette out of her anxious, apologetic haze. Her grin was evil when she stepped into his space. “You needed another reason? I thought you said you were fine with needles.”

Luka’s mouth opened and closed for a moment before he collected himself. “I’m fine with needles if you’re the one poking me with them.”

Whatever Marinette was going to say in return was interrupted, yet again, but Adrien. “Sorry Mari, but I’ve got dinner with Pere tonight, so if I’m getting this tattoo, I kinda need to get it now.”

Adrien was now shirtless.

That’s all Luka could process as Marinette stepped away with another apology.

Adrien was sitting in one of the tattoo stations, jacket and button up slung over the top of the chair. Marinette ruffled his hair as she walked past. “Don’t go rushing an artist, kitty. Otherwise you might end up with something less badass fire dragon and more Mushu.”

“Hey! Don’t go hating on Mushu!” Adrien gasped in faux-outrage, turning away with his nose in the air. “He’s travel-size!”

“Uh huh,” Marinette sighed as she walked back over to Luka. “Anyway, ignore him.” She held out a clipboard with a form on it. “If you just want to fill in your details, I can polish your design after I do Adrien’s tattoo, and then send it through for you to look at. If you like it, I can fit you in…” She paused and walked over to the desk near the door. “Well, I have a cancellation tomorrow morning, and I can get Nathaniel to do Ivan’s tattoo… I can fit you in for tomorrow at nine, if you’d like. If that’s too soon, I have openings next week?”

“Tomorrows fine,” Luka said as he wrote down his email. “And I’m sure I’ll love whatever you send me. Your rough sketch is incredible – I can’t want to see what it looks like in colour.”

The smile Marinette sent him was almost blinding. After Luka handed her back the clipboard, Marinette said goodbye and walked back towards Adrien.

The last thing he saw was Adrien’s smile as Marinette pecked him on the forehead. “Ready to get stabbed, mon chaton?”

Luka refused to look up as Rose and Juleka digested what he just told them. They shared a glance in that way all couples do – like they can communicate via intense eye contact – before bursting into laughter. Well, Rose burst into laughter. Juleka just chuckled and shook her head.

“You’ve got it bad, brother,” She said around a spoonful of ice cream, “It’s almost pitiful.”

Rose poked her with a pen. “Jules, don’t be mean to him!”

A scoff. “I can be mean to my brother as long as he remains a dumbass.”

Luka raised an eyebrow. “Oh really, sister? Do I have to mention the Prince Charming incident?” That had happened back in college, when Juleka had moped for days when she thought Rose had fallen for the foreign prince who she met on his visit to Paris. There had been much relief when Rose had clarified, no, the prince was too male for her refined lesbian tastes.

Alright, Luka had been pretty insufferable then too.

Juleka snapped the lid closed on her ice cream and turned to put it away. “You said that your appointment is at nine, right? Rose, we can open late tomorrow, right?”

“Ooo, yay!” Rose clapped, gathering her paperwork. “I can’t wait to see what kind of tattoo you’re getting Luka!”

“Do I get a choice in this?” He asked with a raised brow.

“No.” And Juleka pulled away his ice cream.

Later that night, Luka opened an email from marinetteDC@email.com. Hey Luka! I’ve attached the full colour layouts for your tattoo. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow!

He was so glad he lived alone – there was no one there to watch him blush over an email from a girl who may or may not have a boyfriend. Then he looked at the photos. His breath caught.

These are incredible. The image was flat but drawn so that when the transfer paper was wrapped around his arm, the sides would line up. The snake was coloured in various shades of blue, with a lighter sea blue down what could be seen of the spine before merging into a deeper teal green near the belly. The belly itself was a pale yellow, blending in perfectly to the ring of daffodils just above where his elbow would be. As for the flowers themselves, they seemed to pop off the page. Bright blue iris’, with the edges of the petals tinted purple, bold red gladiolus’ with a white outline, pale yellow daffodils with brighter yellow middles… they all emerged from around the snakes body, with the gaps a deep shade of brown – the colour reminded him of his mothers’ mahogany chest – and tiny flickers of pale green leaves creating little spots of calm.

Beside the larger image was a single iris, connected to the main tattoo by two deep brown branches, with a scattering of leaves ringing it. The blues of this flower were paler – closer to the colour of his eyes, Luka realised with a blush – and the purple of the petal’s edges were the same shade as Juleka’s hair. The orange streak down each petal stood out starkly from the rest of the flower.

It was incredibly detailed, and just so much more than Luka ever thought a tattoo could be. He thought back to Rose and Juleka’s tattoos, how lifelike the flowers were, and found that he preferred this saturated, brighter than life version better. It matched perfectly against the calmer tones of the snake and stood out against the dark wood and pale greens of the supporting stems.

He sent back a response before going to bed. Luka couldn’t wait to go to Charmed Ink tomorrow.

This is amazing Marinette! I didn’t think your sketch could get any better, but you’ve blown all my expectations out of the water. Should have expected that such an incredible person can produce incredible art. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow – and get the tattoo.  

**************

The next day, a blushing Marinette waved Luka into the tattoo parlour, throwing a glare over her shoulder at where a red head was busy with another customer. “Luka! Hi! I only saw your email this morning – I was too tired yesterday to do much more than send you the design and go to bed.” She hopped up a little on her toes to press a kiss against his cheek, moving away before he could react.

“Rose! Juleka!” Rose was pulled into a hug that lifted the shorter blonde off the ground, while Juleka was greeted with a faire la bise, which his sister returned. “I believe I have you guys to thank for my newest customer!”

“Well if anyone deserves a Marinette Original tattoo, it’s Luka!” Rose chirped, “And he refused to show us the design – I can’t wait to see it!”

Juleka smirked from her other side, and Luka instantly felt on guard. It was never a good think when his sister made that face. “It’s something sappy, isn’t it? Mine and Mum’s name on a ship, or the score for his first song, or his guitar? Gods know he rarely goes anywhere without it – I had to convince him not to bring it with him today.”

Luka raised an eyebrow and wandered closer to Marinette. Her cheek kiss restored some of his earlier confidence, and he leaned into her space a little. “Marinette could make the most sappy tattoo concept into something that could even fit in with your Lady of Midnight, goth chic style. After all,” And here Luka returned Juleka’s smirk with his own, “She managed to turn your love song into a pretty cool looking tattoo.”

There was a hint of a blush on Juleka’s face as she pushed at his shoulder, making him wrap an arm around Marinette’s shoulders so that they didn’t both go over. Her first tattoo idea had been the Always from Harry Potter, surrounded by roses – Rose had always been a big fan of the series, and had actually cried onto Juleka’s shoulder as she read the last book – but when Juleka came back from the design appointment, it had been with the flower wreath concept. It maintained the original intent behind the tattoo – a permanent reminder of Rose’s impact on her life and of her feelings – while being truer to Juleka’s style and personality. Rose had loved it enough to get the same one.

Marinette glanced up at him, not bothering to move out from under his arm, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Ahh, so you’re one of those musicians. Any girl would have to fight your guitar for your affections.”

“With you, Marinette,” Luka said with a wink, “There wouldn’t be much of a battle.”

Another blush bloomed across Marinette’s cheekbones as she stuttered, almost drowned out by Juleka’s fake-gagging and Rose’s squeals. Despite that, it was a nice moment.

Of course, with Luka’s luck, someone had to break it.

The door of the tattoo parlour was slammed open, and a woman with black hair cut in a no-nonsense bob stormed inside, one hand curled around a wooden rapier. Behind her stood the blonde from last night – Adrien – and Luka’s stomach dropped.

“Marinette,” The scary woman started, “What exactly have you been tattooing on my fiancé’s chest?”

[ifeellikeameowster]

E.V.O.L Chapter 3- Living Dead

Chapter Summary: After a bit of a rough morning, Virgil decides to visit the grave of his long dead best friend... Meanwhile, Patton has finally graduated and is ready to take on his first assignment as a newly appointed cupid!

Warnings: Beginnings of Yandere like behavior, stalking, watching other’s without them knowing, wounds, stabbing, blood.

Pairings: One-sided moxiety.

Word Count: 4k+

Chapter followed by Author’s Note then Tag List under the read more:

Everyday I feel the same.

Stuck, and I can never change.

Sucked into a black balloon.

Spat into an empty room.

The next day Virgil found himself waking before even the roosters themselves would have crowed.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and cursing his wishy washy biological clock, he wondered if it was too early to grab a bite of breakfast. He had missed dinner the previous day, after all, having been too tired from being forced to socialize for so long with someone so new. His parents would probably understand if they caught him. They always did.

He shrugged and slung one of his lighter weighted blankets over his shoulders before taking a few shaky steps away from his bed. His legs felt like jello, making it tempting to just go back to the safety of his little nest and spend all day inside of his room. But the obnoxious rumbling of his ungrateful stomach made that nearly impossible. So to the kitchen it was instead.

Virge tried his best not to step on any creaky floorboards on his way out of his room and down the stairs. If his parents weren’t already awake, then he certainly didn’t want to be the loud, fumbling asshole that actually woke them up. Heaven knows they deserved all the rest they could get. They did so much for him. And for the whole neighborhood, for that matter.

Wonder if there’s any of those blueberry bagels left. He pondered as he descended the final step.

He went past the living room and into the kitchen, where upon after he entered, Virgil was immediately met with his answer.

“You’re up early, V.” Talyn said around a mouthful of their buttery bagel, “Can’t sleep?”

“More like slept too much.” Virgil corrected as he joined them at the breakfast bar.

Talyn was a Banshee, a wailing ghost that had the ability to warn others of approaching death.Though, they usually used their glorious screeching voice for the screamo parts of their band’s songs instead. Once in a blue moon however, especially back when Virgil had done something particularly rebellious when he was a teenager, he had had the pleasure of witnessing firsthand the more negative side to their voice. Between his maddy’s booming voice and the sad puppy dog eyes his pops had sent his way-it was easy to see why his version of a ‘rebellious phase’ had been cut short. 

“I’d chastise you for your poor sleeping habits but I’m honestly not one to speak myself.”

“You’re a ghost, you don’t even need to sleep.”

“And yet here we are.” They waved the hand holding the bagel, sending some crumbs flying, “With me taking afternoon naps and staying up all night like a heathen.”

“God, same.”

“We’ve rubbed off on you too much, little one.” Talyn chuckled, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Me and Joan. Why don’t you take after your papa more too?”

“Pops is too sunshiney for me, maddy. I’m half convinced he’s made of literal sunbeams at this point.” Virgil sneered out with a fond undertone as he gently lathered butter on his own bagel, “I’m more of a punk moonchild, ya’ know?”

Maddy was the affectionate nickname he had given Talyn as a kid. He was pleased to later find out that, unlike with dammy, other kids sometimes used maddy for their nonbinary parents too.

His maddy chuckled at that, patted his shoulder, then returned to devouring their own breakfast. They both sat in a comfortable, companionable silence for a while as they finished up their food and took in the morning sights through the wide kitchen window. Then as the birds started up their autumn songs and the sun started it’s slow trek over the horizon, they both got up to put away their trash and tidy their mess. As he was putting his blanket over the couch for later cuddling-while-watching-tv purposes, Virgil’s eyes unfortunately happened to land on the calendar hanging next to the entryway. The sight of a certain circled reminder of a date he had been trying to forget caused a past pain to resurface just as hot and stabbing as the first time it had ever appeared in his heart.

He reentered the kitchen with a familiar, haunting grimace. Talyn sent him a fleeting confused look before it morphed into one of understanding instead.

“It’s next week, isn’t it?” They breathed softly, “The anniversary.” Their tone held an unnecessary weight of guilt. For even though they were a Banshee, they had not been able to foresee that death. The most important one. The one that had hurt their child so much at such a young age.

“Yeah,” Virgil choked out, tears threatening to brim his eyes, “If...I’m being honest...I’m not sure if I can make it, this year.”

“Well maybe…” They bit their lip and shifted on their feet nervously, “Maybe you can just go now? It might be less pressure, if it’s not the day of.”

“I-I don’t know, maddy. I’m still kind of worn out from yesterday.”

“Ah, the matchmaker meeting. I almost forgot about that.” Talyn moved to lean back on the counter, “How did that go?”

Virge sucked in a breath, blinked away the wetness of his eyes, and thanked whatever higher power may be for the change of topic. “Terrible, I hate socializing. Also it felt like I was being hounded by a teacher with how many questions I was being asked.”

“He needs to ask questions, dear. How else would he know what you like?” They sent him a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite meet their eyes. The mood of the room was still soured by the date hanging ominously on the wall. Taunting them both with it’s ever approaching red circle.

“What I would like is to not have to go to these meetings at all.” Virgil whined. He hopped up to sit cross legged on the countertop beside his maddy. “Why’d you and dammy even talk to him anyways? I thought pops was just going through one of his romance craze phases again, but…”

“But, we all agreed it’s what’s best for you. It’s not healthy to only ever hang out with your family. You need to spread your wings, sweet little baby boy.”

“Ew, baby talk.” Virgil mimed throwing up before crossing his arms and pouting. “Why’s it gotta be some stupid dramatically set up romcom though? Can’t I just go to an online group chat for depressed-emos-anonymous or something?”

Talyn did a laugh somewhere between a giggle and a chortle at that. They playfully swiped at his shoulder. “No, you idiot. Just listen to your parents, okay? It’s time. Way past time, actually…”

“Time to what? Get some?”

“Find someone to love. Someone to...give your feelings too.”

“I give mushy lovey dovey stuff to y’all all the time!”

“Not like that, V. To…” They tapped a frustrated rhythm onto the countertop with their long, pointed nails. “To obsess over. To be attracted to and fawn over. Stuff like that.”

“To bone.”

“Virgil!”

“What? That’s the only difference, ain’t it?” He sighed as he leaned over to place his head on their shoulder. “Why can’t platonic love be enough? I've been doing just fine with just that…”

“Honey…” They let out a sigh of their own before running a reassuring hand through his hair. “That may have been enough until now, but trust me you need this.” The soothing touch of their petting almost calmed  him, until- “We need this.” They ended in a strained whisper, yet unfortunately still loud enough for him to hear.

Virgil jolted away from Talyn and off the counter as if he’d been burned. “What? You’re...You’re all trying to pawn me off or something? Finally tired of me being a fucking mooch?”

“No, no- Little one, that’s not what I-”

“Well if I’m such a leech, maybe I will go hang out in the graveyard with the rest of the rotten worms.”

The tears that had pricked at his eyes earlier decided to return, yet once more he held back the flow of the damn. His eyes reddened with the strain of the repression. Still, he refused to cry around others. Weakness was an ugly shade of color to wear. He wanted to toss out all of his flaws from the closet of his inner self and go shopping for better traits. But maybe, he couldn’t help but think...he was the one that needed to be tossed out right along with them.

Got bubble wrap around my heart.

Waiting for my life to start.

But everyday it never comes.

Permanently at square one.

“Tell the others I’ll be at the church.” He snapped instead as he rounded the corner and stomped up the stairs. He no longer cared if he woke anyone else up. His body was brimming with aggravated energy and his mind was swirling with all the possible negative implications of those few simple whispered words.

The day had barely begun and he already had a massive headache.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After having haphazardly thrown on the nearest clean clothes he could find and all but running out of his house and into the nearly empty street, save for a lone old maid that was bird watching on a nearby bench, he began to make his way over to the cemetery.

On his way there he stopped by Fauna's Florals to pick up a small bouquet of soft and pale yellow roses, the flower of friendship, because that's what he had been to him- the truest friend he would probably ever have. Besides his family, of course, though they were kind of obligated to hang out with him. And he was beginning to wonder if even that reliable, familial obligation had started outstaying it’s welcome.

Miss Fauna, having noticed his red rimmed eyes, had given him a sympathetic smile and a pat on his hand as she handed over the bouquet. He shied away from the unwanted contact and thanked her in a small voice. It was the loudest one he could muster at the time.

When it's late at night-ight,

I'm so dissatisfied-ied.

The weight of an empty life-ife,

Will lessen in the moonlight.

In the light,

In the light,-light,-light.

Shooting Star Cemetery was luckily located in the next street over, making it an easy and short walk. Yet not nearly a long enough a walk to clear his head any from the raging storm it currently housed inside. The graves were all well kept and neatly aligned. The landscaping was done with care and sheer professionalism. The overall atmosphere was more bright and welcoming than one would expect a place housing the dead could ever be.

Virgil moved past the groundskeeper with quick steps, not wanting to have to engage in any conversation with the man whose smile always seemed to stretch too far over his face and whose eyes appeared to linger on his form for too long. Especially not today of all days. He thought as the conversation from earlier resurfaced in his mind. Fresh and unwanted.

His feet took him to his destination almost on autopilot. He had been visiting this particular grave at least once a year for almost seventeen years now. Of course it would be practically hardwired into his system at this point.

“Hey, buddy.” He called out wearily as he approached. Virge leaned over to place the bouquet of yellow roses directly in front of the ivory gravestone before stepping back to sit on the grass across from it.

The stone was the lightest of the ones in its row, almost basking it in an ethereal spotlight. The carvings of angels, ribbons, and roses around it’s surface only accentuated the holy glow. In the dead center, carved in looping and elegant cursive writing, was the epitaph.

It read,

“Patton Sangster:

A young Cherub bright and fair,

Taken from this world too soon.

Now he is way up there,

Dancing between the Sun and the Moon.”

Definitely more fancy and vague than most of the epitaphs around here. Virgil mused, Then again Mrs. Songster was always the poetic dreamer type.

While on the other hand, if he had a gravestone, it would probably say something like "Here lies Virgil Spurling: What an idiot" or "Virgil Spurling: Died of Depression and General Dumbassery".

He let out a long sigh and curled his legs underneath him while crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had, Pat.” He began, “I think my parents have lost their ever loving marbles. Don’t get me wrong or anything- I love them a bunch. But I just don’t...I just don’t get why they’re doing this, ya’ know?”

“They’re insisting I see this stupid matchmaking witch doctor guy, who probably thinks I’m a loser by the way-he seemed kinda stuck up and I kept making a fool of myself as per usual. And like they want me to get hitched to some dude ASAP I guess so I can ‘spread my wings’? Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean?”

He started waving his arms around to accentuate his ranting, ”But a part of me can’t help but think they’re just trying to get rid of me. Just pawn me off to a random guy so I can be out of their hair! But they...They’ve never said or done anything like that before...They’ve always been so nice to me and so supportive and so loving so I just don’t…”

Now, in the sanctum of this empty cemetery and the equally emptily promised presence of his only friend, he finally let the tears fall quietly and slowly down his ever reddening cheeks. “I just don’t get it anymore, Patton. Nothing makes sense. It hasn’t for a long time now. Ever since...ever since high school, really. And I just…”

“I just wish you were still here.” He hissed into the morning air as he closed his eyes and let his eyes finish emptying themselves so he could hopefully return home with them dry and pretend that they had never been crying in the first place.

From several yards away the groundskeeper stole glances at the strange visitor as he worked his usual surveyal of the grounds. However, his gleaming, unwelcome eyes were not the only pair that happened to be following Virgil that day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Patton Sangster, newly appointed cupid under Eros, had just finished the last of his angelic training and was lined up with the rest of the lucky graduates about to receive their first heavenly assignments.

Finally! He cheered in his head. A chance to prove that all of his training wasn't for nothing. He may be light hearted, but he certainly wouldn't take his heavenly duties lightly. He would prove without a doubt that being soft hearted didn’t mean he was weak. Far from it in fact. He considered the overflowing love he had in his heart to be his greatest and most cherished source of strength.

Little did the little cupid know just yet, but that unbridled and passionate love of others would soon be his very downfall.

I'm living dead, dead, dead, dead.

Only alive-live-live-live.

When I pretend-tend-tend-tend.

That I have died, died, died, died, died, died.

An elder, more experienced cupid passed back and forth in front of the recruits with a golden clipboard they had summoned. Odiel, patron cupid of dark love ballads, was surprisingly the one giving the assignments to the newbies this year. He listed off each angel and their assignment with a resigned sigh and dramatic flip of the page. He went through many graduates before finally getting to Patton, which had caused the poor angel to bounce nervously on his feet.

"Patton Sangster?"

"Yes, that's me!" He nodded eagerly with a dazzling grin.

"Hm." His superior clicked his tongue before looking at his clipboard. "No official angel name given yet. No patron title earned yet."

Patton's eager expression flickered, a brief frown gracing his features before they turned back into his patton-ted steadfast smile.

"We'll just assign you to your old hometown during life, then. And see where it goes from there."

Patton gasped, bringing his hands up to cup his face. "Heartwish City?!"

Odiel pauses for a moment to check another page on their clipboard. "...Yes."

"Yay! Oh, I can't wait to see everyone again! And help them out!"

"Mhmm. Well, you will have to wait a bit more. There's still orientation to get through."

"Oh, of course." His smile turns more nervous, "Yes, sir."

And with that, the rest of the graduates were assigned before they all headed over to the orientation stadium.

The clouds are thicker and fluffier around the stadium, which is covered in red, pink, and white decorations and gold trimmings. Eros himself stands on a stage floating gently above them. Some of his more well known cupids fly  beside him and his effervescent presence. They give the awaiting crowd reminders of what-to-do's and what-not-to-do's before Eros finally speaks.

"Today is the day you truly become cupids. Go forth and spread love, devotion and admiration wherever you may fly to. Prove your loyalty both to me and to my almighty mother Aphrodite. Be the best angel you can be." He intones in a booming voice accompanied by grand hand gestures. He then bows his head toward the crowd of new cupids in respect and waves them off, officially dismissing them to their new posts.

Patton, having been absolutely jittery with excitement throughout the whole orientation, immediately flaps his small, pink and blue hummingbird like wings and takes off into the early morning sky.

His flight time is shortened by both his familiarity with the destination and his newly appointed status. So much so that to any outside spectator, he would have arrived there in the bat of an eyelash.

As he glided over his old town, he spotted several people he once new. Miss Fauna was putting up a new display in front of her flower shop. Tia and Ana were putting up an ad for their speciality tea of the day. Dr Picani was leaving the Blue Fairy Therapy building while glancing at his watch. And many, many more lovely and well missed faces.

But the one he had missed most of all was currently over at the Shooting Star Cemetery, sitting criss-crossed applesauce right in front of his grave.

Sure, he hadn't seen them in over seventeen years, not since their childhood together. But he would be able to recognize that pale face and protective spirit anywhere! This was his best friend we were talking about, after all. And Patton never took his friendships lightly. So he did a spiraling turn in the air to change directions for this newfound destination. He could worry about his other duties later, he had a dear friend to visit!

He hovered over the cemetery like an excited bee hovering over a group of flowers, staying close to the sparse clouds strewn about the glorious sunrise. Not only had Virgil grown up healthily, but he had even remembered him! And was currently paying respects to his grave, apparently. He leaned forward and focused his hearing on the sounds happening down below him.

"You wouldn't believe the week I've had, Pat." Oh dear, what could have happened? Is whatever it was the reason he was visiting? "I think my parents have lost their ever loving marbles. Don’t get me wrong or anything- I love them a bunch. But I just don’t...I just don’t get why they’re doing this, ya’ know?”

What could they have possibly done? Patton remembered Virgil's parents, three queer platonic partners who had always adored their son. They were loved by the whole neighborhood and Patton himself had also enjoyed their company whenever he had visited Virgil's house for playdates and sleepovers. He couldn't imagine them ever doing anything to harm their beloved child! But, if they had hurt Virgil somehow…

“They’re insisting I see this stupid matchmaking witch doctor guy," Ohhh! A matchmaker, huh? Virgie really had grown up! It seemed like just yesterday the two of them were talking about the other boys possibly having cooties during recess. "Who probably thinks I’m a loser by the way-he seemed kinda stuck up and I kept making a fool of myself as per usual." Well that didn't seem very nice of whoever this matchmaker fellow was. Patton would never think of his assignments as losers...everyone was equally deserving of love after all!

"And like they want me to get hitched to some dude ASAP I guess so I can ‘spread my wings’? Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean?” Wait just a minute...Matchmaker...Wings...Patton was a cupid now! Duh. The solution was obvious!

Patton puffed up his chest and fluttered his wings excitedly. He could be Virgil's new, better matchmaker. And nothing would make Pat more happy than having his childhood friend being his first assignment as an official cupid. It was all falling into place so well, almost like destiny! But Virgil was talking again now, so Patton tuned back in.

”But a part of me can’t help but think they’re just trying to get rid of me. Just pawn me off to a random guy so I can be out of their hair! But they...They’ve never said or done anything like that before...They’ve always been so nice to me and so supportive and so loving so I just don’t…”

Ahhh, this was all Virgie's anxiety getting to him again. He had always been a worrywart, even back when they were kids. He guessed some things never changed, not even when it had been so many years. Back then, Patton had always tried to ease his worries and be the most supportive friend he could be. But even at his best and most empathetic, he had been far too young to quite comprehend the full depths of Virgil's emotions.

He looked back at Virgil only to find tears running down his cheeks now, marring his dark eyeshadow. Oh dear sweet Aphrodite- he was crying! “I just don’t get it anymore, Patton. Nothing makes sense. It hasn’t for a long time now. Ever since...ever since high school, really. And I just…”

Highschool? What had happened in high school? Did someone hurt his dearest friend while he wasn't there to protect him? Patton leaned even more forward and gripped the clouds nervously.

“I just wish you were still here.”

Patton froze. Only holy magic and his grip on the clouds keeping him in the air.

I lay back in a glittering mist,

And I, I think of all the men I, I could have kissed.

I haven't lived my life, I haven't lived love,

It's just a bird's eye view from, from up above.

A part of him wished he was still there too. And that same part of him wished he had been there beside Virgil through it all. Had been there in highschool to prevent whatever it was that had hurt his Virgie. Had been there to tell that rude matchmaker off for him. Had been there to give him a lesson in proper etiquette and respect towards his clients. Had been there to help his parents find a better matchmaker. And even to help Virgil pick only the best partner for a great guy like him.

He released a breath he didn't even know he was holding in the first place. But he was here now! And he could help him now!

Now filled to the brim with determination- He hurriedly fumbled to summon his bow and quiver, which he had been storing in his Grace, and pulled out a red romantic arrow from the bag. In his haste, however, he had nicked the side of his arm with the tip of it. He paused to look at the offending wound, wondering if a nick was considered the same thing as a pierce. It wasn't, right? He didn't remember them saying anything about scratches while in the heavenly academy. Oh well, it was probably nothing to worry about! It hadn't come anywhere near his heart, after all.

Besides, Patton had much more pressing matters to attend to. And a heart that needed a connection only he could create was waiting for him. A connection that would transcend the very heavens themselves! Pat would definitely find Virgil a beloved partner that could kiss his many worries away. Many, many kisses. Kisses for that kissable mouth...and soothing voice...and soft looking cheeks…and pale, elegant hands...

Patton shook his head furiously to rid himself of those lucrative thoughts. Sure, Virgil had grown up handsomely, yeah. But this was Patton's best friend he was talking about! How could he be thinking such scandalous and traitorous things? Besides, he had chosen Virgil for his very first assignment. He had to be more professional than that! He had to prove himself a worthy cupid both to Eros himself and to his fellow angels.

He moved to expertly draw his bow, with the same arrow that had previously drawn his blood, poised in the direction of the huddled figure below him. Just as he was about to finally fire, however…He heard it.

"Patton." Just a whisper. A whimper through tears. Just a mumble amidst other unintelligible cries of sorrow.

And yet it felt like a shout. A cry for help. A plea for him. It rang through Patton's ears with the force of a hurricane and knocked him off of his balance.

The arrow cracked and twisted off it's place on the bow and turned to stab through his heart.

He choked on the blood that had bubbled up into his throat and desperately pawed at the arrow lodged accidentally into his most valuable organ.

The words of one of his superior angels and teacher, Balladeil, flared up into his mind. A cupid was not meant to take a cupid's arrow. A cupid's arrow was not made to be used on a cupid.

"Oh Eros!" He cried "Oh no!"

He grabbed at the arrow and started yanking on it. Trying to pull it out of his chest. But it was being stubborn, latching onto his Grace and using that to keep ahold of him. More blood gushed from the wound only to be consumed by his Grace as it tried to heal him from the intrusion. Tears started pouring from Patton's eyes to match Virgil's.

Then, before he knew it, the arrow had melted into his heart and merged into his Grace. And the connection had been completed.

Patton stared dumbfoundedly at the clean space where it used to be for several solid minutes. The wounds were completely healed now and the blood was all gone. It was too late. He had been too late. He had failed.

He took a shaky breath and moved to collect his bow and quiver.

He stored them carefully back into his Grace.

He looked back down at Virgil, who was getting up from the ground now.

He flew slowly over the graveyard as Virgil walked hurriedly past the leering groundskeeper.

He followed Virgil silently all the way back to his home, often passing by a strange crow that happened to be on the same flight path as him.

He watched over Virgil for the rest of the day and way on into that night.

Did I really deserve it?

It happens when you're hurting.

And cut me at the surface,

Of my heart.

Of my heart-heart-heart.

A/N: Patton, you darling idiot. You would have been fine if you weren’t so clumsy. X3 Anyways, hope y’all enjoyed! The next fic I’ll post will be that Creativitwins one shot I mentioned earlier. And then it’ll be right back into the E.V.O.L au! ;3

Tag List:

@accidental-sanders 

@ren-allen

@noneed4thistbh

@virgil-the-void-kitten

@totalwhovian

@bandgeek82002-love

@allycat31415

@notalwaysthevillian

@cloudchaser7

@iamredxd

@lacrimosathedark

@idon-kno

@darkhumourandfandoms

@phangirlandkilljoy

@nikova-eve

@rebelrewriter

@chaoticpanpastelle

@simreaper98

@adroolingmaw

@corrupt-ink-denials

@all-of-them-sanders

@6-daughter-of-a-witch-6

@angelicakaiba

@blobdad

@bi-sappy

@clara-oswald-333

@friendly-neighborhood-murderer

@randomcrew

@demon-of-sparkles

@transdimentionalapocolypse

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@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes

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@hunter-shyreen

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@bee-a-queen

@thatonepersonwhoshippeople

@virgil-is-baby-boi

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@im-a-space-gay

@kai-the-person

[purplesurveys]

1034

survey by tater-tots What is a fruit that you might eat in the morning? Hahahaha. That’s a pass for me; I can’t imagine regularly eating fruit at any set time of the day.

Do you enjoy any food combinations that others might consider to be weird? I like to eat fish with mayonnaise, which was always normal in our household but I realized was weird when I first saw the horrified expressions on my friends’ faces when they saw me use the combination. I like mayonnaise with a lot of other foods as well, which a lot of people generally find weird.

What is a green vegetable that you enjoy eating? Broccoli and asparagus.

Name something you might find in a salad. In my salad, you’ll always find tuna sashimi in it heh.

What is your favorite type of sandwich? Anything that’s like an Eggs Benedict or Monte Cristo. 

Which condiment do you use the most often? Mayo, for sure. Banana ketchup too. I also like sriracha sauce but my dad hasn’t been buying a new bottle of it for a while. 

Name a chocolate bar that you enjoy eating. It’s called Whittaker’s - just not sure what country it hails from; maybe Australia? - and I like their peanut butter variant. Google also told me it’s a New Zealander brand.

What is a meat that you do not eat - ever. Dog or cat.

Are you lactose intolerant, or have any other sort of food allergies? I’m mildly lactose intolerant but I ignore it because a lot of my favorite foods use dairy. Other than that, no food allergies.

What was the last food that you burnt your mouth on? Just plain rice, haha. I had been extremely hungry and I just wanted to dig in; but I ended up spitting it back out.

Which brand of soup do you eat? I don’t regularly have soup, much less buy canned brands of it. 

What are some flavors of ice cream that your enjoy? Cookies and cream, mint chocolate, coffee, chocolate chip cookie dough, queso real.

What is the best type of cookie, in your opinion? I like keeping things classic when it comes to cookies, and I’ve always been perfectly happy with chocolate chip cookies :)

Would you rather have popcorn, pretzels, or chips as your salty snack? Chips. I dislike the other two as I only like the softer, doughy version of pretzels.

Have you thought about going on a diet & actually went through with it? No.

--

survey by pinkchocolate

When you woke up today, was there anything on your mind? Kinda. I felt sad and I was aware of it instantly, compared to most days where the sadness will take a while to build.

Who was the last person you interacted with for the first time? Literally speaking, maybe the barista at Starbucks who took my temperature at the entrance before I was let in the store. I interacted with her yesterday.

What colour was the wrapper of the last snack you ate? White. It’s more of a tiny bag than a wrapper, though.

Do you have a favourite mug to drink from? What does it look like? Yeah, I’ve since claimed my mom’s mug for myself. It’s a copper mug with the Starbucks label on it. It looks super minimalist which I appreciate.

What was the last thing you used, that came in a spray can? It was a Lysol spray.

What colour is your favourite bra? Don’t really have one.

Who was the last person you went to for advice about something? I think it was Andi. I’ve been going to them a lot for help, advice, extra sanity, etc. lately. If it hasn’t been for them I probably would’ve left a few months back.

Have you had a deep conversation with anyone lately? Yes. I finally met up with Gab yesterday to discuss a lot things, iron some stuff out, figure out where to go from here.

What was the last compliment you recall receiving from someone? I’m not sure, I haven’t been receiving any.

And the last compliment you gave to someone else? It was most likely a compliment for Andi on how helpful they’ve been to me.

What kind of bread did you eat most recently? Flatbread.

What was the last sound you heard, that you found pleasant? We were watching a mass livestream earlier and I was delighted when they played the closing song.

How many books do you think there are in your house? Take a rough guess. I would guess around 60, the overwhelming bulk of them mine.

Of all the books you own, which do you think has the most pages in it? It would definitely either be Gone with the Wind or Les Miserables, but I’m not sure which one is thicker.

^ And how many pages is that? I checked both of my copies and they’re soooo close – GWTW has 1,440 pages while Les Mis has 1,463.

What was the last film you saw at the cinema? What did you think of it? Knives Out. I went to the mall yesterday and the cinemas were still closed, so it’s not like I’d be able to watch new movies at theatres anyway. Anyway, I’ve been vocal about the movie enough times on my surveys but I didn’t enjoy it. Whodunnits were never my cup of tea, but Gab had wanted to see it and I didn’t want to make her watch the film alone.

In the last book you read, what was the main character's name? Haven’t been reading.

What was the last song you heard, that meant something to you? Lose by Niki.

How many people do you know whose name begins with Z? I can only recall one such person at the moment; it’s one of my mom’s aunts who also doubled as a principal sponsor for my mom and dad’s wedding.

What do you expect to be doing at this time tomorrow? Maybe doing my embroidery (my package finally arrived!!) or surveys or watching Start-Up, because tomorrow will be a holiday :)

--

survey by luckforlemmy

Did you start listening to more Michael Jackson after his death? I can remember that there was definitely a brief period after his death that I caught up with his discography and listened to MJ nearly everyday; I read up on him and his life as well. 11 year old me figured he must’ve been an interesting figure because of the big reception around his death, so I wanted to know the reasons behind it.

When was the last time that you played hide and seek? I can vividly remember the day when Nina and I played hide and seek when the house was newly-built and still devoid of furniture, back in maybe ‘07 or ‘08. I’m fairly certain that was the last time I played hide and seek.

Who was your first celebrity crush, if you can remember? It was a tie between Ashley Tisdale and Zac Efron, though the older I get the more I’ve been convinced that I ‘crushed’ on Zac only because I was surrounded by girls who went crazy over him in school. I’m pretty sure my first real celebrity crush was Ashley, hahaha.

Do you worry about money? Yeah, especially now. I can’t even enjoy my first paycheck because most of it’s gonna go to Christmas presents, but oh well; at least I can finally buy gifts for my loved ones who’ve always gotten me presents.

Have you ever had to beg for a second chance? Kind of, when I was trying to convince Gab to let our relationship have another shot four years ago. Beg is a strong word for what I actually did, though. It was more of me pitching the idea, not begging.

When was the last time that you sent an actual letter through the mail? I don’t think I even ever did that, not even when I was younger and snail mail was still kind of a thing.

Are you excited to return to school? There’s nothing to return to anymore. Unless I decided to take up a post-grad course in the future, I’m done with school.

Do you hate Internet abbreviations? It can just feel a bit jarring when they’re used excessively in a single sentence, but I honestly don’t mind it for the most part. It’s understandable especially now that most, if not all, of my interactions whether personal or for work happen online.

What was the last insult you gave out? I was never really the roasting type of person, not even towards my friends.

What'd you last look up on YouTube? Hahaha I looked up ‘skynwallz.’ I was looking for the episode of Rhett and Link’s vlogs where they painted the rooms of their offices in the color of their entire person – hair, eyes, and skin. They were joking about starting a new business for it called Skynwallz, so that’s what I looked up.

Are you texting someone really awesome right now? No, I prefer to be alone today.

Do you know when to be serious and when you shouldn't be? Er sure, it’s not that hard.

Do you think that you're funny? I like my sense of humor, yeah, but I know it’s not always going to translate to everybody’s tastes. For example, I’m still figuring out the dynamic in the team I was put in at work, so I can’t make the same jokes that I would normally say with my co-interns with whom I have a more comfortable relationship.

Have you ever sent a secret to Post Secret? I don’t know what this is, so no.

What movie do you really want to see in theatres right now? They aren’t showing anything at the moment. A movie I want to see badly, though, is Ammonite.

Have either of your parents shown affection for you today? My mom made breakfast for us, if it counts. She also gives each of her kids a kiss during the peace-giving portion at mass, so there’s that as well.

What's the last thing that you sang out loud? I watched Start Up before this survey and was humming to the song that was being played at the end of the episode. I couldn’t sing along to it because it was in Korean, but I knew the melody so I hummed.

Is there a word that you always misspell? Rhythm is one of my worst enemies for sure. I also have a love-hate relationship with accommodate.

What was the last thing that you bought that someone else benefited from? I met up with Gabie yesterday and bought her her favorite meal from Yabu to break the ice – menchi katsu with brown rice. I originally got mozzarella sticks for myself but when we got to talking, she mentioned her sisters at one point; I remembered how much I miss them, so I gave up my food and told her to just give my food to her sisters since I hadn’t touched it yet anyway.

Has someone ever made you a really great mix CD? Andi gave me one before she made the flight to New Zealand 10 years ago to permanently live there. I believe I still have it, but I’m just not sure where it currently is.

Have you ever been on Omegle.com? Yes, when I was a teenager and it was new.

Did you talk to someone cool there? Not really; most seem to exit our chat after we did the whole asl thing. I also avoided the webcam option because my anxiety for video calls has always been present.

What song reminds you of your best friend? Any song by The Maine.

Who was the last person to hit on you? Some creep on Facebook.

What's on the paper nearest you? It’s the guide for my embroidery kit. It tells me what stitches to do and the colors of thread to use for the different parts of the template I was provided with.

Do you have a set of lyrics that you really love? From Paramore’s Pool: “As if the first cut wasn’t deep enough, I dove in again ‘cause I’m not into giving up Could’ve gotten the same rush from any lover’s touch, But why get used to something new When no one breaks my heart like you” I scream those lyrics every time they come on. I know I often showed the good, shiny side of my relationship on these surveys; but it was very much toxic at a lot of points and those lyrics - and that song - served as a nest for me, something that told me someone understands how I sometimes felt about my own relationship.

Did you get an A in your last English class? I got a 1.25 instead of a perfect 1.00, but I think that’s still equivalent to an A so yes.

What did you last use scissors for? Cutting thread.

Did you ever secretly hate a friend of yours that thought you liked them? That makes me sound shitty lol, but yeah I’ve acted nicely to people I don’t particularly like.

What do you think of when I say "boat"? That episode of Friends where Joey bought himself a boat at an auction; and Canadian accents.

Would you ever get a tattoo sleeve? Nope. I planned on getting one as a teenager, but I grew out of that phase.

Do you know any really fake people? Yep. I think everyone’s got to be at some point.

What does the last blanket you used look like? It’s pink and has multi-colored polka dots on it.

Do you have appreciation for graffiti? Sure, especially if it’s for political purposes (that I agree with).

Why don't you drive? I do. I just have done it a lot less because I have had little need for driving and traveling to places throughout the pandemic.

Does it annoy you when your printer runs out of ink? I think we have the kind of printer that never runs out of ink, but I’m not exactly sure about the terminologies or how the technology works. I let my sister do the printing hahaha.

Have you ever drank anything from a thermos? Yes, mostly water and coffee.

When was the last time you played in the snow? Never.

Do you know any ignorant people? Sure, mostly Gen X-ers and Boomers.

What is the coolest name you've ever heard? Thylane.

What did you last argue with someone about? Relationship stuff. It wasn’t a full-blown argument, but when Gab and I talked yesterday it was natural for us to disagree on a few points.

Is there anyone that you dislike for no real reason? Hmm, I don’t think so. If I feel that strongly about someone, I usually have a reason otherwise it wouldn’t be fair to them.

Have you had a good day? It was okay; it was nice. I got to do my embroidery hoop art thing, got to watch a couple episodes of Start Up, played with Cooper, and now I’m doing these surveys and am planning to continue my embroidery later. It’s nice to feel productive about non-work things :)

Are you going to have a good night? I hope.

[lundiivith]

untitled (lydia and dovahkiin, one hundred years, dot com)

posted a fic to ao3. it’s mostly plotless nonsense but i’ve been sitting on it for two years so it felt like the right time to post it, lol

it’s a little piece about lydia meeting my dovahkiin. first impressions and all that

read it over there or here, under the cut!

It was far too early in the morning, and Lydia’s life had just changed radically in the span of a few hours. For starters: The Dragonborn was here, and Lydia had been sworn into her service.

...It was dark outside.

“Uh,” the young woman said, once outside Dragonsreach. She stared at Lydia, blinked once, owlishly. “I don’t have a house. I hope that’s not a problem.” She enunciated the syllables carefully. Her voice was a little rough. Almost as if she had a sore throat, or as if she hadn’t spoken in a long time.

“We could stay at the Bannered Mare, my thane,” Lydia told her. She felt a little odd. She’d sworn service to the Jarl - her uncle - some years ago. She’d accepted the offer to become the new thane’s housecarl of her own volition. But the last couple of days had happened so fast, and so many things had happened in them. It felt… surreal. Attacks in Helgen, the court mage receiving strange visitors… a dragon attack nearby, and. This.

Her thane opened her mouth. She closed it and then simply nodded. She began walking towards the stairs. Lydia followed her after a moment, a couple paces back. Her thane… she didn’t know her thane’s name yet.

She had white hair, done up in some sort of knot. It looked as if she’d tied it up the best she could while busy, so it didn’t get in her face. Loose strands fell out of her updo and framed her face. Her ears were slightly pointed, and her eyes were pitch-black all over, like some elves’. She had freckles covering her entire face. She didn’t quite look like an elf, not did she quite look like a Nord. Lydia’s new thane was smaller than her, shorter and skinnier too.

She wore cheap-looking leathers and ragged, worn clothing. At her hip hung an ancient-looking black sword. Its edge was uneven, maybe recently sharpened. Slung onto her back, a quiver with a few arrows and a bow.

They got to the Bannered Mare after a couple minutes of silent walking. The sun was rising. Pink clouds crossed the sky, and the first stirrings of life in the morning could be seen. A group of Companions came back to Jorrvaskr; they looked bruised and hungover.

Lydia had only been woken up recently, right before dawn. She knew her thane had been awake for longer. Especially, Lydia thought, with her tendency to stretch and yawn while she walked. The way she did it — and Lydia noticed she was musing at this point, filling her bored mind with description if only to ground herself in what would soon become her new life, what already had become her new life, and also, a little bit, to entertain herself —, the way her Thane did it reminded Lydia, in a strange way, of the few khajiit she’d seen in her life. Lydia hadn’t traveled much, but she remembered a few years back when a khajiiti merchant came into town proper. One day she’d seen him stretch. She’d thought for a moment he was purposefully dislocating his own arms. He hadn’t been, of course, but. And that was the same exact feeling the… she was the Dragonborn, Lydia had to keep reminding herself, the same exact feeling the Dragonborn gave her as she moved. Graceful but a little worrying. Claws and fangs in plain view.

A wooden squeak. The inn’s doors needed oiling. The Bannered Mare’s fire was mere embers at this hour, a half-asleep Redguard woman manning the place. Her thane spoke with her, gave her fifteen septims for a two-person room. She showed them to their room and went back down.

The room had two beds. They had white bedclothes. Furs were strewn on top. Two chests, each at one of the beds’ feet.

The Dragonborn sat on one of the beds. “So,” she said.

“So,” echoed Lydia, standing by the door. There was a pause. “My thane. I don’t know your name.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she muttered, surprised. “I don’t think I have one.”

“I… don’t understand?”

“I don’t know who I am. I apologize.” Her thane smiled, apologetic. Under Lydia’s confused look, her smile crumbled. “I don’t… remember.”

“What do you remember?” The sunshine coming in through the tiny window had changed colors during the time they’d been inside. The day was a sleepy blueish-gray.

“Not much.” The Dragonborn looked down. “I remember… a forest, shakily. Running from some soldiers. There was something I needed to do, but I feel… as if it doesn’t matter now. Or as if I’ve already done it. As if it was done, now. Isn’t it strange?” She looked up at Lydia, a wobbly smile on her face. Lydia nodded, a small smile on her face. The Dragonborn is so… small, she thought.

“In any case,” the Dragonborn continued, breaking eye contact, “I don’t remember any names. After that vague memory, I just woke up being carted away to be executed.” Lydia’s back straightened in surprise. “Oh, I haven’t told you how I ended up in Helgen yet, huh? I forget not everyone knows, uhm... what I know.” She snorted. “Do you want the short version?”

“It would be my pleasure, my thane.” A little sarcasm seeped in, but the Dragonborn didn’t seem to notice.

“I woke up in a cart, alongside a horse thief, a few Stormcloaks and Ulfric Stormcloak himself,” the Dragonborn begun, amused. Lydia raised her eyebrows. Sure, that had happened. “We made a line. They executed a Stormcloak. The horse-thief ran away, he was shot by an arrow…”, and she was counting these off on her fingers, “then it was my turn. And then the dragon came.” She shrugged. “Those are my first clear memories. Um,” she bit her lip for a moment, “after that, the Stormcloaks and the Imperial soldiers both ran away. I ended up joining a lone Imperial soldier that made his way through some catacombs… Hadvar, maybe?”

Her thane’s voice was a little slurred. She’d taken off her shoes at some point. She pulled her legs on top of the bed, dragged herself back to lean against the headboard. “We went to his uncle’s house in a small town nearby. I ate lunch and dinner there, and after dinner I made my way to Whiterun. I was here, hm… a bit past midnight, maybe. I caught the Jarl sleep-deprived.” She giggled. Lydia nodded. “He sent me to his insomniac wizard, who sent me to a cavern near the town I started at. To find a rock. I crashed on the streets of the Cloud District, under the tree, got woken up by a child asking for coin. I gave her some.” Her smile turned bittersweet. “We talked a bit. Her name’s Lucia.”

“I’ve seen her,” Lydia said, quietly. She’d appeared only a couple of months ago. It was sad to see a child begging on the streets like this, but she didn’t know what she could do.

The Dragonborn paused. Internally wording something. “I bought Lucia a night at the Bannered Mare,” she said after a bit, hesitant. There was a pause before she continued.

“Um… where was I?”

“You were sent to some caverns?”

“Oh, yes. An old Nordic tomb. I fought…” and her thane yawned, “a lot of… corpse men…?”

“Draugr?”

“Draugr, yes, thank you… There was a glowing wall, at the end. And a very... big draugr. I took his sword. In his tomb, there was the rock I was sent to retrieve.” A silence. “The glowing wall spoke to me,” she added, impulsively.

“What words of wisdom did it give you?” A lot more sarcasm seeped into that one.

The Dragonborn very deliberately pointed her chin up wards, staring at the ceiling. “Fᴜs,” she whispered. Lydia shivered. Goosebumps went up and down her arms. Had some sort of sudden, chilly breeze gotten into the room? She grasped her right arm with her left hand.

The Dragonborn grinned at her when she noticed this. She still acted sleepily. “Magical words,” she told Lydia. Lydia… she’d never been much of a folklorist. Any Nord knew the story of the Dragonborn, but the details were fuzzy in her memory. She accepted it as part of the deal. Magical words. Sure.

After a moment, the Dragonborn kept going. “After that, I got a room at the town’s inn. I actually reached the town around maybe two in the morning? I was surprised the inn was still open. I got a room, the woman manning the inn looked at me strangely. I slept in until the afternoon, then I ate and left for Whiterun. Reached the castle around nine in the afternoon yesterday, got told a huge dragon had appeared nearby. You know the rest of the story.” She yawned again.

“You should rest, my thane.”

“Ah… I wonder if I’ll be nocturnal the rest of my life,” the Dragonborn wondered. She got under the covers as Lydia walked over to the other bed and sat down. The Dragonborn turned around to look at her housecarl.

“Good night, Lydia,” she said, softly.

“Good morning, you mean.” Lydia really couldn’t help herself.

“I do. Thank you… Good morning, Lydia.”

She fell asleep almost instantly.

The Dragonborn woke up around noon, demanding food. Lydia ate with her.

“We’ll need to leave for High Hrothgar,” her thane told Lydia over lunch. “We could leave tomorrow morning. You’ll say goodbye to your friends, I’ll say hello to a few friends I think I made when I first came here.”

“I’ve already said goodbye to all my friends here, my thane.” Technically true; Lydia didn’t have friends in Whiterun. Hadn’t in quite some time. The Dragonborn looked at her and nodded after a second.

“All right.” She finished her roasted vegetables and got up. She offered Lydia a hand. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I am sworn to do just so, my thane,” Lydia told her.

“Great!”

They paid the innkeeper another fifteen septims to rent the room for one more day and then hit the cobblestones. The first thing the Dragonborn did was go to the marketplace.

It was a busy day at the marketplace. The Dragonborn tapped Lydia’s shoulder. “I’ll give you half my money and you can buy some food for the road,” she said. Lydia nodded before receiving what amounted to two handfuls of septims. It wouldn’t be very good food, Lydia thought, but it’d be enough.

She spent about an hour shopping before seeing again her thane. She was holding a variety of items, such as: some better armour, a few changes of clothes, two pairs of new boots, a few books, and two traveling bags.

“I… assumed you didn’t have one,” she said, nervously.

“I did not. Thank you, my thane,” Lydia told her. She picked the biggest traveling bag, and the Dragonborn took the chance to unload on her the clothes and boots and armor. Lydia stared right into her eyes. “I am,” she said, trying to imbibe the statement with all the sarcasm she could muster, “indeed, sworn to carry your burdens.”

The Dragonborn laughed. Lydia did so, too.

They went to the Bannered Mare after a while, to pack up better. The Dragonborn changed into a new pair of pants and shirt, cheap-looking but clean and new, and told Lydia to stay at the room while she talked to a few people she’d met.

She came back around dinnertime. She had a new sword — Skyforge steel, Lydia noticed with a pang of jealousy — and looked grimy and sweaty. Lydia went downstairs while her thane, in their room, washed herself standing up in a bucket. Eventually, the Dragonborn came downstairs and they had dinner together. Lydia learnt that, while she didn’t know her name, knew her background and her age. She was twenty-two — four years younger than Lydia — and apparently a half-elf.

“You’re the first one I’ve seen,” Lydia told her. “I… have to admit, I didn’t know they existed.”

“Maybe we don’t,” the Dovahkiin said, distracted, “and I’m just some kind of magical accident.” She blushed furiously as she realized she’d actually spoken out loud, and Lydia laughed, hard.

They arrived at Ivarstead, the town at the bottom of the mountain, after a few days’ travel. They circled around the mountain, going north. Her Thane had, apparently, been hired to kill some bandits by her “friends”. (She’d clarified over dinner to Lydia they were, in fact, the Companions, and that she was working on joining them. Her “why” had basically been “I need friends and training”; good enough, Lydia guessed.).

During the trek to the mountain, they ended up passing by Morthal. They spent only one night there, but the town still managed to unnerve Lydia. Her thane resolved to pass by it again sometime later. She felt like something was going on, could “practically smell it” (direct quote), but they didn’t have time to do anything.

In the end, the duo arrived in Ivarstead at night. They rented a two-person room at the inn and ate dinner there. The Dragonborn talked to everyone she found. She’d decided they’d be staying for a while. Lydia thought it ought to be boring to stay for more than one day in a town such as this, but she wasn’t the one calling the shots, so she guessed it was out of her hands. She let her thoughts slip, though, and the way she phrased it made the Dragonborn snort and cough up her water.

After breakfast the next morning, they began their trek. No sooner had they passed the bridge that they found a man who couldn’t carry a bag of food and other such supplies to the Greybeards. Her thane promised to help, and she was given the supplies, and they carried on, but—

—after walking for some time, it was obvious she struggled under its weight, combined with her own bag. Lydia stopped in her tracks and her thane stopped with her.

“My thane, you do remember I am sworn to carry your burdens, right?” Lydia asked her. She put her hands on top of the bag.

“Oh,” the Dragonborn said. “Thank you, Lydia.”

During the trek, they took turns carrying the bag. The Dragonborn made sure to speak with the two or three pilgrims she found. She seemed to really want to talk to them further, but they didn’t have much else to say, so they carried on. She also took the time to read the etched tablets. Lydia mostly tuned her clumsy reading out through their trip.

After a while, the path went through two tall outcroppings of rock. Lydia’s turn carrying the bag ended, and she gave it to the Dragonborn. They kept walking.

There was a roar.

A frost troll. Lydia’s eyes widened, and she grabbed the back of the Dragonborn’s (new, handmade) fur cloak and ran like the winds.

Fᴜs,

she heard from behind her. A booming noise resonated behind her, sending the troll flying backwards. A sudden gust of wind pushed Lydia forward. They reached the edge of the little plateau, where the stone steps became discernible again, and the Dragonborn gave Lydia her bow.

“I’ve got fire magic! You shoot it!” she told her. Lydia drew the bow, a little shakily. She was no expert, but she knew enough. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her thane’s hands begin glowing. The troll came back, like a stampede, and the two women split up, moving opposite to each other, shooting it again and again. The troll was confused for a moment. Lydia, stupidly, chose that exact moment to shoot it one more time. It roared and ran towards her, and Lydia knelt, and it reached her, got his enormous claws so close to her —

— until a white-hot sword tip carved through its ribs. The troll tried to turn around, to see what exactly had stabbed it, and Lydia took the moment to grab a dagger she’d hung from her waist and stab its neck. That finished it off.

The troll fell to the ground with a dull thump. The Dragonborn was forced to kneel as it fell, since her sword was still stuck through its ribs. And still white-hot, Lydia noticed. Her thane’s hands glowed. She didn’t seem bothered by the heat.

“...How?” Lydia asked.

The Dragonborn panted. “What?”

“You’re going to melt your sword, my thane!”

“Fuck!” She pulled it out and dropped it on the floor in one swift motion. It sizzled, a little deformed by the experience.

They both looked around for the bag. The Dragonborn found it first, and pointed at it; she’d dropped it while they ran. When she came back with it, Lydia was still on her knees. Her thane offered her her free hand. Lydia held it thankfully, helping herself stand up.

“How did you not burn yourself with the sword?” Lydia asked.

“Oh,” the Dragonborn replied, distracted. “I think the heat doesn’t hate me. I grabbed a red-hot coal a few days ago, and I was fine...”

“A fine theory, my thane. Should we keep walking?”

“...Let’s wait a second and then continue.”

And behind the Dragonborn, High Hrothgar stood, as gray as its inhabitants — and holding behind its great doors their future.

[a-writing-bear]

[AmeriPan] Chapter 2: The ‘Hell on Earth’ Task Agency

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13286367/chapters/31876020

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’ But it is not formatted as well as the AO3 version.

Previous Chapter     Next Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing:  Alfred F. Jones & Kiku Honda (America & Japan)

AU:   Demon AU/HellTaskAgency!AU - Demon!America & Businessman!Japan

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings:  None in this chapter (Future addiction and other themes such as crime, murder, corruption etc.) A bit more PruCan in here

Organised as ever, Alfred should have expected this kind of planning from his handler. They knew that HETA had placed Matthew and him close to their targets, although the jean cladded boy didn’t assume he would be residing this close to his goal. The man in question was quite...adorable to say the least. Coffee-brown eyes paired with a 5’5ft stature was the least intimidating figure, his suit didn’t make the guy look any scarier either. To say the least, it was strange to believe that a cute being like that would be capable of the destruction of an entire company. Then again, Kiku had this weird aura that came off as unnerving and as Alfred had focused in on his soul (or as much as he could within the 30 seconds of the meeting) he recognised a bitterness within him. Slightly stunned and already geared in the mood to pester his new client he strode into the apartment whistling. The sibling glared at him suspiciously,

“Al. You have your fangs out and you smile looks like the time you started a riot.”Matthew noted with peculiar intrigue, eyes going wide as the tanner man explained that his client lived right next door. Alfred tucked his fangs away distractedly, realising that he needed to get used to the unfamiliar blunter teeth.

“But I thought you had to go for that fake job interview thing on Monday?” Nodding, Alfred was slightly puzzled too. His new alias already gave him an excuse to be near this Kiku guy as a personal assistant, somewhere he would be able to meet the man every day. Arthur was probably tryna make it easier for him. Fuck that guy. He didn’t need help adjusting to a human life! He could manipulate that soul easier than a kid using a finger puppet. First order of business, he had concluded, would be to get certain of their surroundings. They decided to get out into the streets and explore the cityscape of New York City. fumbling with his hands they walked out into the streets looking quite clueless to the world, however, they could sense all the different souls whizzing past them, locked within humans who knew nothing of how bright and blinding their souls could be. Noting with interest he recalled that Kiki’s soul had been a cool blue that greyed out ever so slightly, while the woman who had walked past was a dazzling bright red (Too kind-hearted for his liking).

His partner had already started moving down the street in the cold air, clearly in search of something interesting to find. The street lights marked their pathway as they strolled through the cool breeze, every now and again enamoured with any particularly bright soul that puttered nearby. A dainty bell dinged as they entered a quaint cafe a few minutes away. As his Mattie fumbled with a wallet and order on behalf of the two, Alfred occupied a vacant table before hearing a very loud voice which seemed to override any chatter from the other customers. He turned ready to give the stink-eye to the ruder patron but as he came to view a body whole obviously carried no human soul he was left speechless. The culprit in question had looked up sensing Alfred’s aura strongly- pale skin and red eyes all in return with a heavy amused laugh following. Could this be..? The figure partially revealed his wings using his cloaking (which was against HETA guidelines!) and winked before murmuring to whatever company this obvious demon had attracted.

Making his way the man was drabbed in a black zip-up hoodie, left unzipped showing off the thin white t-shirt and his tight black ripped jeans. The demon strolled towards Alfred pleasantly as if making a way to an old friend,

“Hey, there kiddo! New to town- Although I think I know you?” His hands dug further into his pocket as this mysterious thing stuck out his human hand to shake.

The figure tutted as Al failed to respond, “Jeez, at least pretend you’re a real human ma-”

“Are you Gilbert?” Blurting out, Alfred felt embarrassed as there was a pause- worried that he had gotten mixed up - heck for all he knew this wasn’t a demon he even knew! Yeah, those black wings looked quite similar to the description Arthur had given….

“I’m not surprised you recognise me...but uh.I don’t think we’ve ever met in the underworld...you remind me of someone... Am I still talked about?” The American noted that Gilbert’s human form had been given a very distinct German accent and judging from the appearance was residing under the cover of a recent art graduate, his silver-white hair matched with a young face seemed weird but somehow exaggerated the rough and rowdy aesthetic the man held. Recalling the tales and exploits that his former mentor, Francis, bragged about he already could imagine meeting the so-called prodigy demon Gil- the one that had set off many huge chaos points that he had to be put on suspension. If anything, Alfred was jealous that this demon was so highly skilled….and yet he was amazed.

“Yes! Oh but I don’t think we have actually met-I’m Arthur’s mentee. Formerly Francis’...” He had not noticed a sudden peak in Gilbert’s interest, those red eyes flickered with some sort of curiosity and familiarity. “I didn’t think we’d run into another employee this soon...we just got stationed to HETA literally yesterday.” the white-haired man eyes grew wide before bellowing even louder attracting the attention of Matthew who had just arrived with their drinks and those red eyes trailed Matthew’s human form. Did he know Matthew?

“‘We? Are you relate-’”

Suddenly as he came to introduce his partner to Gilbert, his brother stopped before the older demon, lowering his hands- seemingly nervous and suspicious. Gilbert took very little time to appreciate Matthew, that was clear as day as those blood red eyes grew vivid and his smirk faltered into a slight gasp. The two exchanged glances that even Alfred could not decipher, it was just like when he asked about Francis and Arthur’s gave would morph into a mixture of so many emotions that seem to override many others. Okay, he must have met Mattie befor-

“You’re not supposed to cloak your wings. Not even have them out, that’s breaking article 7.” Matthew hissed disapprovingly at the cocky looking demon, disregarding the clear as day brilliance of the veteran demon in front of them. Smooth. His brother obviously was not a seducer, so much for a demon right?

Surprisingly, Gilbert only smiled with gritted teeth, a low growl in his throat as he barked out a reply with feigned hurt: “Ouch, I’m so hurt, although you little thing... aren’t you aware I’m exempt from nearly all commandments and articles?” Alfred got anxious...had he just found himself stuck in a quarrel though Matthew’s aura of awkward annoyance died down and melted easily in the atmosphere as they continued. Alright. they knew each other, he concluded. No One would be caught dead calling Matthew ‘Little thing’ - they would be drop-kicked all the way to Heaven and down to hell in a fury of pain.

“Fuck off man, What ARE you doing here Gilbert?”

“Last time you were happy to find me, Not so excited to see me anymore Little birdie? I think you forget this is my turf this time.” Alfred cringed, God how DID these 2 know each other and why the fuck did Matthew never introduce the legend to him before???

“I meant this cafe! Not the district Gil, I’m not that unprofessional..”

Alfred kept staring at the squabble, The two look back at him embarrassed as they recognised he was still present watching them. Matthew flushed before sitting down at a nearby table, tugging on Alfred to join him- attempting to avoid the gaze of the older being. He huffed dignified, obviously trying not to be pleased that Gilbert had sneaked and sat beside the two twins. Alfred sent Matthew a questioning glare and his brother wavered for a minute before sighing as Gilbert leant closer next to him.

“We met at a directors meeting, Francis brought me to intern that morning-” the pale man had already started fumbling with a lock of Matthew’s hair absentmindedly as if it was a normal thing to do.

Alfred was even more confused “How come I wasn’t invited?!” Again Matthew huffed but this time more peeved than ever but replied firmly and calmly- this interested Gilbert obviously and the older demon grinned focusing on Matthew’s voice.

“Arthur invited you, but you forgot you fuck. I had to take notes for you remember? Too busy seducing some harlets…” His brother’s voice trailed off and an awkward silence fell upon the table. Their drinks were left untouched as Gilbert decided to ask about their missions and who stationed them here. He snickered as they hung their heads in shame when they told him it was because Alfred screwed them both.Gilbert had been in this section of town since the project started, and in fact was the district’s advisor (Matthew proceeded to tell him off considering all of these facts were given in their job file).

*Ding*

A jingle sounded through the small cafe and suddenly Matthew turned to look at his watch before turning to Alfred whispering about how their targets were about to enter simultaneously. Punctual and precise, Matthew was correct as a trio entered through the door, 2 short men dressed in fancy business suits, one was undoubtedly Kiku- Alfred Narrowed his eyes taking close attention to the man’s change in soul aura: It had been bluish gray this morning but now it had morphed to a dull rather very pitiful dark gray, there was a tinge of deep blue but it seemed much more complex than just the first tone from before. Besides him, a slightly taller and more...Germanic(?) Looking lad had a grumpy look on his face and fiddled with a briefcase in hand- to this person’s side was a young girl, her face too gleeful and innocent to be garbed in such professional pencil skirts and a jacket that fit her a bit too snuggly. The rounds of her face and her tiny nose mirrored that of the blonde man- obviously they were siblings or some sort of relatives and she seemed to follow the man closely like a doe infatuated by its mother dear. Hold no doubt though this little lady was not as innocent as she came closer.  Her cheery bright yellow soul had a very deep red core- not the dazzling passionate kindness he would have expected. it was the exact shade as the blonde man’s: an almost wine red, too close to blood and the black fog between the two connected souls obviously hinted to something sinister. The only difference between the assumed brother and siblings was that the man had a green tint instead of amber- this man was greedy. At that moment Alfred once again cursed the fact his brother got a double case, so unfair, these siblings looked like a fun case. They watched carefully as the tallest of the 3 told the girl something and pointed towards the Cafe cashier, they parted as she went to take an order and the 2 men moved for some seats.

Alfred knew Kiku would be naturally drawn to him, so it wasn’t peculiar to see Kiku suddenly perk up confused and look around before spotting him. The perks of being a hell-giver hah. Selfishly he mouthed a ‘hey there’ trying to seem casual and welcoming- yikes he really wasn’t used to his new body but at least he knew his smile was good since Kiku was actually quick to bring his guest towards their table. Thank the devil he didn’t accidentally use his fangs, he still hated these blunt biters. Kiku looked unsure but it was too late as his swiss accented partner had already ask who got him in such a rush and to “Not leave Lili confused as to where we are!”

“I must apologize to my new neighbours, please hold on Mr Zwingli.” That Asian meek voice still seemed so devoid of any evil. Mr Zwingli’s eyes twitched and his brow furrowed, he had seen the Japanese man apologize before but never quite so eager for supposedly the young men that were sitting near this table.

“Yo, Mysterious no-name neighbour! This is Matthew, he’s also in our apartment like I said before and that’s just a friend of ours”He pointed to Gilbert before jutting out a friendly handshake and Kiku obliged before giving his name (Alfred laughed internally, he knew more about Kiku than the man could ever assume, he didn't need an introduction- silly humans) Matthew nodded but took more interest in the man with the Swiss flag lapel pin.

“Pardon me, but are you the Mr Zwingli of Germanian Banking?” The man flinched before looking suspicious but Matthew’s smile was so disarming and seemingly too precious was able to be stop any detection of malice from the blonde man, he coughed before answering shyly.

“Formerly of Germanian Banking, I’ve gone independent now- working in finance with multiple new companies and clients on contracts, Mr Honda’s company is one of them in fact. Excuse my bluntness but...How do you know me? no offence but you look some college kid who woke up without coffee before a midterm…” Alfred could tell Matthew wanted to go hostile but his ass knew it would ruin the job, besides he was a professional even if it meant biting his tongue after insults.

“Finance and Econ.Grad,” his brother spoke, Alfred could only laugh, in the underworld, Matthew was the equivalent to a high ranking lawyer- not some shitty recent grad, what an awful cover-up they were given on earth.

Matthew’s voice carried on, ignoring Alfred’s scoff “In fact I’m looking for some internship work..got any space?” wolfishly Matthew smiled knowing full well his request was undeniable- charms always worked well on the less-socially inclined, and he had studied his case file well enough to know Vash Zwingli was not a social man at heart. In a way Alfred pitied him as he watched Matthew strategically manipulate, humans were too easy he supposed and he hope he was never cursed to be reincarnated as one- Devil have mercy if he was ever stuck with Matthew as one. Alfred’s own target had left quickly to assist the girl who had been stumbling and meekly making her way with 3 coffees on a tray, a balancing act as she navigated the closely knit tables. Her soul was so wild and strange but lightened even more as she arrived next to the banker, she felt more comfortable around him and only as Kiku stood behind her did her light aura flicker once more.

“Grüezi mitenand….” Her voice trailed off after looking at the rest of the crowd.

// (From Lili) [Swiss German] - Hello (to a group, formal) //

Vash huffed before quickly mumbling to his sister “Setzen Sie es auf einen anderen Tisch, wir werden nicht mit diesen ... Zeitverschwendern sitzen. Lassen Sie Herrn Honda einige persönliche Dinge tun. Hämmer kafi?”

// (From Vash) [German] - “Put it on another table, we will not sit with these ... time wasters. Let Mr. Honda do some personal things.” (From Vash) [Swiss German] - ‘“Do we have Coffee?”//

As the two shuffled to another table Kiku continued to stare at the twins, Alfred noted his calculating eyes and how his soul was tinting to an intrigued purple the longer he stared. This was going to be great.

For the first time ever his new human voice came out with an almost southern drawl- one that even the demon himself was surprised to hear come out of his mouth; none the less the new accent definitely caused the Japanese man to snap out of his long stare

“You ‘kay there Mr Kiku?”

God again those bright red cheeks, Al was pleased to know for the next few years he will be able to be the source of those blushes.

[niall-is-my-dream]

You & Me - Part Twenty (last part)

So here it is! The last part!

Thankyou to everyone who has read, liked and reblogged this fic. It means alot to me. Thankyou to @for-fucks-sake-h and @niall-talk for their support and advice.

Hope you like the ending. Let me know what you think! Em x 😘

2900 words

Christmas/New Year's 2017

Callie's POV

Christmas Day had been great with your family, your Mum had cooked an amazing dinner. You'd laughed with your cousins and watched films in your comfy clothes for the rest of the day. You even managed to get a Skype call in with Niall.

Boxing Day was a busy one too. Tom and Claire came over and some of your parents friends. A cold buffet was served as you had a couple of drinks and played cards until late.

You were actually really nervous when your Dad dropped you off at the airport the next morning. You'd met Maura and Bobby before, but this felt like a much more grown up and important meeting with them.

After Niall gifting you a very expensive guitar and calling you the love of his life in his speech the other night, you'd realised how serious the relationship had got. It had sort of crept up on you, the busy life of travelling and touring kind of covered it up. Not that you were complaining, you loved Niall and you knew he loved you too.

If you looked back over the last month, all the signs for it has been there. It wasn't so much as giving things up for each other, more adapting both your lives to include the other one in it. A natural progression from friends to lovers had occurred, although to be honest Niall felt like one of your best friends. But you wouldn't tell Bex that.

You were friends who shared a love of the same music, laughed at the same films, joked with each other. But you were also partners who cared deeply for the other and it physically hurt you to be away from him, a dull ache in your heart. He had slotted into your life easily and you couldn't imagine it with out him.

*********

"Being in an honest, sincere, and committed soulmate relationship helps you to become a better version of yourself. You have to push yourself beyond your comfort zone, beyond your limits to find your better self.

Even though we tend to think of soul mates as a symbiotic union; soulmate relationships can be rough at the beginning. They can be like two jagged edged puzzle pieces trying to click into place. Sometimes it looks like you do not fit together at all, but soon after a little bit of twisting, turning, and flipping the pieces around, you feel the moment of the perfect click. It's a feeling deep in your soul, that says, this is the right one.

Often soulmates appear in disguise. You might not be physically attracted to each other when you first meet, but there is a mysterious force pushing you forward that tells you this is "the right one" for you."

(Quote from June Silny on life hacks.org)

**********

The flight is short from London Stansted to Dublin, just 1 hour 25 minutes. You had barely got comfortable in your seat, before the crew announced you would be landing. Storing away your sketch book back into your bag, you buckled up your seatbelt ready for the descent.

Niall had told you he would be outside the terminal waiting for you, hiding in the safety of his rental car. Your phone rang as you went through the sliding doors, pulling it from your pocket when you got outside, you smiled brightly as you saw it was Niall.

"Hey you!" You said as you answered your phone.

"I love how much you smiled when you saw it was me petal." Niall replied.

You looked up and down the pick up area and saw Niall's car waiting in one of the bays. He smiled when he saw that you'd noticed him.

"Get that bum of yours over here now, I need a kiss." He added.

"Sure thing boss." You replied and then hung up the phone and dragged your suitcase to his waiting car.

Niall hopped out and helped you put your suitcase in the boot of his car before opening the passenger side door for you. As soon as he had sat himself in the driver's seat, he leaned across the centre console, his hand coming up to your cheek. You leaned across to, fisting a handful of his hoodie and pulling him closer.

"I missed you." You whispered as you closed the gap between you both, kissing him gently.

"Missed you to sweetheart." He managed to whisper against your lips, that he didn't seem to want to stop kissing.

"Come on Horan. Let's get going." You said as you reluctantly leaned back in your seat.

"There are some services just as we leave, I need to pop for a wee." He smiled.

"No worries babe, is it far back to Mullingar?"

"Just over an hour."

"Not too bad then."

When Niall pulled into the services five minutes later, he leaned over and gave you a quick kiss and asked if you wanted a coffee from the Costa Coffee shop inside.

"That would be great, and a muffin to please."

"Usual choice?"

"Yes please."

"Won't be long, love you."

"Love you too." You replied with a wink.

Niall practically held your hand all the way back to Mullingar, only letting go when he needed to. Even though you had caught up with each other at least twice a day on the phone and sent numerous text messages while you'd been apart, you still had loads to talk about.

The journey back to his Mum's was a chance to have a bit of alone time, since you'd be surrounded by both your families for the duration of the trip.

He put on some music, Hozier blaring through the speakers, both of you singing away as you cruised down the motorway.

Niall's Mum's house was packed on New Year's Eve. Lots of their friends and family had made it over for the annual party they liked to have. Chris, Niall's Step Dad always did a spectacular fireworks show apparently, and you were looking forward to it.

Your parents, along with Tom and Claire had arrived yesterday afternoon and had settled in well with Niall's family. Maura had asked your Mum for advice with the food for the evening's party, and your Mum had practically beamed at being involved. The pair of them had even exchanged Christmas gifts with each other.

You found yourself sitting next to Niall's Nanny chatting for quite some time, her telling you some great stories about Niall as a child.

"Enough of that." Niall had said to her as she began another story.

He topped up both your glasses with prosecco before helping his Nanny into the garden to get her comfortable for the fireworks. Chris had set up all the garden furniture and patio heaters. There was a large fire pit as well, to keep everyone warm. You made sure his Nanny had a place near the warmth and helped her cover her legs with a fleece blanket. With just a few minutes left until midnight, everyone else gathered out on the patio in the garden, finding themselves a spot by the warmth too.

As the countdown began, Niall wrapped his arms around you from your seat around the fire pit. You cuddled up close to his chest, feeling completely content with him. When the clock hit midnight, everyone was cheering and hugging each other. Chris set off his fireworks and the sky was lit up with colours.

"Thank you for an incredible year Petal." He said, your faces mere inches from each other.

"No, thank you. Next year will be even better." You replied kissing him gently.

As you sat cuddled up watching the firework display, you thought about how much had happened over the last year. You'd travelled extensively with Niall, the band and the crew all over the world. He'd celebrated having a massive hit single with Slow Hands, followed up with a tour and a number one album.

When you had been texting each other back in July while you were both on vacation with friends, you hadn't expected anything apart from a bit of flirting. Finding out that he developed feelings for you had been a shock. Crushing on Niall hadn't been difficult, but you never thought in a million years that he would be secretly thinking of you as more than a friend too.

Everyday that you were together was a new adventure. Everyday your relationship and connection grew stronger. Even the stress of Saskia Jones couldn't break you both. The restraining order had remained even with the news of her supposed relationship with Jasper Littlewood.

Since the morning of Kim and Sam's visit to Nialls house in L.A. with the news that Saskia had been stalking Niall and yourself, you had been 100% honest with each other at all times. The news that she had text him saying she would ruin him and been hard to swallow. It had been beating Niall up inside, he hadn't wanted to scare you away.

But you had been true to your words with each other, no one would break you. Not even Saskia Jones.

*************

13 months later

February 2019

A week after arriving back in L.A. and you still felt like shit. You were pretty good at getting over jetlag, but you knew it must be something more. You felt absolutely exhausted, your face was pale and you had been sick quite a few times. Niall had even attended the Grammys after party without you.

Niall was in the kitchen when you came downstairs after your morning shower. He had been to the gym and then to the grocery store.

"You ok babe?" You asked giving him a quick kiss as he put the food into the fridge.

"Yeah, are you?" He said his eyebrows raised.

"Still feel a bit sick, must be something I've eaten. Can't think what though."

"We've eaten exactly the same stuff over the last week." He replied smugly. "So I picked you up something from the store."

He put his hand in one of the bags and took out a box and placed it on the kitchen counter.

A pregnancy test.

"Niall........I'm not pregnant. I think I know my body well enough to know that." You said, completely baffled by his assumption.

"Oh yeah, you think? Had your period lately?!"

You cringed at the topic of conversation. You weren't embarrassed to talk about stuff like this with Niall, but it wasn't exactly something you felt needed to be spoken about. Until you did the math in your head and looked up to see his smug face again.

"Fuck, I'm ten days late." You mumbled out.

"I know. I worked it out this morning while I was running on the treadmill."

"You were thinking about my period schedule while on a treadmill?!"

"Was just trying to work out if we'd eaten anything different, went back over each day to try and decide what it could be that made you so sick. Then it dawned on me, that you're late."

"It's probably just the stress of moving into the house and getting everything sorted for it."

You had recently become the proud owners of a beautiful house in a leafy suburb in London. You began discussing moving in together when you were on the world tour last year. You'd been together just a year at that point, but both of you were reluctant to spend the nights apart. Not knowing where your favourite hoodie was and constantly forgetting stuff was getting annoying for you both.

Niall had also surprised you over the holidays by asking you to marry him in front of both your families at his Mum's annual New Year's Eve party. You had been shocked but had instantly said yes, your parents had all known about the proposal as Niall had asked your Dad's permission.

"Go in the downstairs loo and wee on the thing then." He said excitedly.

You hesitated slightly, the box felt heavy in your hand.

"I love you." He whispered, but it did nothing to ease your nerves.

Five minutes later and you sat on the bathroom floor not wanting to look at the little white stick resting on the edge of the sink. The allotted two minutes was definitely up by now, but you were too scared to look at the result.

A knock on the door behind you made you jump in shock. You moved away and opened it, Niall's eyes landed on you sitting on the floor.

"So.....?" He asked.

"I haven't looked."

He knew you were worried. That boy could read you like a book. His face however was pulled into a massive smile as he looked at the leaflet from the box and then checked to see whether the stick had one or two lines.

"It definitely isn't something you ate. We're having a baby!" He said, the excitement evident in his voice and his beaming smile.

"You're not angry or worried about it?!" You blurted out.

"Of course not! I asked you to be my wife less than 6 weeks ago. We have just got a date to move into our dream family home. Yeah, I would've preferred to have gotten married first, but this is happening now for us."

You sat on the floor in complete silence. He had been thinking about a possible pregnancy for the whole morning, you just ten minutes.

He was so happy with the news, the smile however was soon disappearing from his face.

"Why are you not excited?" He asked the worry evident in his voice.

You stood up on your feet and reached out to him. His hands moved to your waist, yours landed on his chest. His eyes were confused you could tell straight away. That was until a smile crept up your face.

"I hope the baby is as beautiful as you." You whispered.

His lips met yours and you grinned and giggled as the excitement took over.

***********

One year later

February 2020

Musician Niall Horan 26, spotted browsing the aisles of his local Waitrose in London today with his cute 5 month old daughter Ava Elizabeth.

Niall Horan was spotted out in the capital today with his daughter. Craddling baby Ava close to his chest as she slept in her baby carrier, he left everyone swooning at the check out as he gently kissed her head while he waited to pay.

The former One Direction star has had an amazing few years since the band went on hiatus at the end of 2016. He spent 2019 writing and releasing his second album that went straight to number one in 44 countries. He and his personal guitar technician, Callie Brown became parents to Ava back in September and were rumoured to have got married over the Christmas holidays in his native Mullingar. Niall was spotted with a white gold wedding band on his finger as he picked up supplies for the family.

The couple who have been together for two and a half years are often spotted together out in London or near their other home in L.A. They were first linked when they were spotted sightseeing in New York back in October of 2017.

Niall, who never normally confirms anything regarding his dating life, has relaxed that a lot in the last few years. Callie had appeared in numerous posts on his social media and they've walked the red carpet together a few times. Most recently when he attended the American Music Awards in L.A back in November, where he picked up 2 awards.

Callie looked stunning in a long black strapless dress just two months after the birth of Ava. Niall looked lovingly at his fiancee and the mother of his child as they posed for pictures and were interviewed.

Seems he's come along way since his brief relationship with Victoria Secret Model Saskia Jones. A source close to Saskia said that she had become tired of Niall's fear of commitment, so had ended things with him. Seems unlikely now that was the reason for their break up, considering his current relationship status.

Maybe the rumours of her being a nasty piece of work are true. A news article published in May of last year described Saskia's strange behaviour when Jasper Littlewood ended their short lived romance. He reportedly had to ban her from the E News studios after she turned up very single day.

Everyone in the industry knows how humble and down to earth Niall Horan is. No one has a bad word to say against him and his wife Callie. His fans absolutely adore her, describing her as the best thing that has ever happened to him.

It would seem that she, along with their daughter Ava, are the best thing to ever happen to him. Niall was recently interviewed by Radio One DJ Greg James about his up coming world tour, which kicks off in two weeks. When asked if he was planning on having Callie as his guitar technician still and if she would be accompanying him with their young daughter on tour he said,"I don't go anywhere without my girls."

Anyone else swooning?

I know I am!

Tag list

@niallersdirtylaundry

@youvegotyourvictory

@fireawayniall

@sugarwithlilspice

@juicyfruitlove

@ihearthemcallingforyou

@klairelavarias

@lizziespidiepridie

@irishfireandice

@someoneunimportantxx

@awomanindeniall

@loulouloueh

@sing-me-a-song-harry

@niallergirl1d

@niallspeachybooty​

@roseytattoo

[eponymous-rose]

Weird question, but you seem really productive despite seeming to have a constantly fluctuating routine, with both your work and your hobbies. Most people think having a solid routine is the only way to increase your productivity but I've pretty much given up on having a routine since my life seems similar to yours--a lot of travel, weird and always changing work hours. Do you have any advice on how you deal with routine and productivity in spite of that?

Oh gosh, this is definitely something I struggle with a LOT, and I’m not sure I’ve found a coping strategy that works for me yet. But the small things that have been helping have been (1) keeping a routine in my planning even if the stuff I do changes dramatically (even if I’m traveling, I have a notebook where, every Sunday, I list all the stuff that has specific dates/times for the following week, I list the stuff where I still have to come up with a date/time, and I list the stuff I’ve gotta do that week for sure), and (2) finding multiple ways to approach the same goals that I can tailor to my level of energy/spare time on any given week (so this week I’m just not in a super exercisey mindset and can’t rely on having the motivation to run every day, but instead I’m making an extra effort not to eat out this week—lower-effort for my current state of mind, but all toward the same goal of feeling a bit healthier overall).

I’m also very cognizant of how little time at work is actually spent working, so I try not to feel guilty if the total number of hours worked is low as long as the work’s getting done. I’m an incredibly routine-oriented person, but it’s been a bit freeing to slowly and steadily teach myself that stuff just has to get finished one way or another, and the easiest way to do that is to just focus on specific goals and let the rest be flexible.

Anyway, yesterday I was thinking of this ask and was like, “You know, I’ll just write up what I do on Monday as an example, and I bet things will go hilariously awry.” And so they did.

So here’s what my weekly planning list looked like last night:

Dated Events:

Call with paper coauthor at 9AM Monday

Call with leadership academy planning committee at 10AM Monday

Call with peer mentoring group at 9AM Tuesday

Sit in on class at 11:30AM Tuesday and Thursday

Seminars Wednesday at 3PM, Thursday at 4PM, and Friday at 3PM

D&D Saturday at 6PM

Undated Events:

Coordinating abstract submission for an upcoming conference (early week)

Setting up Skype calls with a couple friends I haven’t talked to in a while (late week)

Assorted Priorities:

Book hotel for work travel in July

Accept journal article review request and scope out how long that’ll take

Review some materials sent out for my peer mentoring call

Revise my paper and submit the revisions before the Monday deadline

Get my driver’s license renewed (the joys of yearly visa renewal… your license has to be renewed yearly as well)

Put together a schedule for a biweekly Twitter feature highlighting new publications for the account I run for a subcommittee in my field

Respond to an e-mail about a conference in January about some weird deadline that popped up for next week

Come up with conference abstract ideas before the as-yet-unscheduled meeting

Fill out some action items in advance of my 10AM Monday call

And some more specific checklists for four research projects I’m focusing on this week

I purposely try to group conference calls together, because I currently share my office and feel weird doing video calls when she’s stuck in frame five feet away from me while she tries to work. So Monday seems like a good day to work from home, and I can squeeze in Tuesday’s call before heading to the office that morning. I’ll be in the office Tuesday-Friday, which means I’ll be able to attend those seminars and classes with no problem. I have most of my D&D prep done already because we ended early last game, so I can leave that until Saturday. The only thing I might have to shuffle to next week is the driver’s license thing, because it’ll take three hours and I have to account for finding a Lyft there and back. Okay. Aces.

Wake up this morning to find my internet’s out, and I also somehow left the hard drive with all my research on it at work. Hoo boy. But staring over my to-do list, I think I can set today up as a “big picture” day and not have to do any actual coding, so I’m still okay to work from home. I can also phone in to the conference calls instead of using the video call software. All good.

Luckily, the internet comes back right before my first call of the day. Said call is with someone who also happens to be a dean, so she has a tendency to get held up at meetings, so I take that delay to look at the action items for my second call (I mean… if you send me action items at 8PM on a Sunday I am not gonna touch them until Monday morning).

When she did make it online, we chatted about the new paper, and she strongly encouraged me to send it to our other coauthors in case they have suggestions. We’re submitting on Monday, which is way too short-notice to read a 20-page research paper, but they already read the pre-revision version in great detail, so I shot them an e-mail that included a summary of the substantial changes and a note to the effect that if any of them want more time to look at this stuff, I can beg the editor for an extension on their behalf. Minor crisis averted.

Second meeting is very intense and structured. Everyone has to volunteer to organize and lead two webinars in the next three months, so I go ahead and volunteer for the two April ones so I’ll get it out of the way early. Aaand the first webinar is at 1PM this Friday. Okay. I’ll work from home that morning so I can do last-minute prep, then head into the office in time for the 3PM seminar. No biggie. One organizer puts together a draft schedule, and I send a quick e-mail suggesting a different use of one of the ten-minute time slots. One of the other organizers requests another conference call tomorrow instead of e-mails. I tell them I can only do after 4PM, if I leave work early. Eh. We’ll see how that works out.

After the call, I get through a bunch of small tasks in maybe 20 minutes: hotel booked, Twitter posts prepped, review request accepted (not due until May 20, so plenty of time on that), conference deadline e-mail chain started. I spend the rest of the time before noon getting sucked into an article someone sent me about the myths surrounding undergraduate grade inflation and then reading up on the peer mentoring materials for our call tomorrow. A couple other minor e-mails pop up (scheduling the precise date of a conference mixer in January, that kind of thing) and I manage to deal with them right away.

Lunch! Clearly working from home means I should take the opportunity to indulge in some fine cuisine, some leisurely cooking that highlights—

I heat up a microwave meal (chicken couscous) and watch YouTube videos for an hour.

Back in it! I write up some abstract submission ideas and make a valiant attempt at setting up a time to talk about them, but it looks like that might have to wait until next week. We’re still a ways before the deadline, so that’s okay.

Mmmmmmm someone on Twitter mentions a conference in Germany in September and a workshop in Colorado in July that both look like a good fit for my research. I’m in a situation where I have a big chunk of travel funding that’s going to disappear unless it gets spent in the next year. Oh no. But also oh yes.

Just in case, I put together a couple point-form ideas for stuff to propose that I can bring to the people holding the purse strings.

The rest of the afternoon is spent putting together weekly goals for four of my research projects: each one involves a collaboration with a different person, so I’d like to be able to send each of them an e-mail with at least one new thing to share about that project this week. Just in case that doesn’t happen, though, I rank them from most to least important. Worst-case scenario, I don’t have to send any of them this week, but it’ll make next week tougher if I don’t.

It’s only about 3:30 at this point, but honestly, I’m feeling a bit exhausted and overwhelmed (some of the e-mail chains have gone through five or six replies at this point and keeping it all straight is giving me a headache), so I opt to get some groceries and call it a day.

I may have added some stuff, but I got a lot crossed off today! Here’s how that last checklist looks at the end of the day:

Assorted Priorities:

Revise my paper and submit the revisions before the Monday deadline

Project #1: come up with a new exploratory figure and send to Person A.

Project #2: summarize the early results I started last week and send to Person B, along with an ask to see whether he’d be up for me presenting this stuff in Europe in November.

Project #3: improve on figures I showed last month and send to Person C.

Project #4: prepare a rough outline of the next paper to send to Person D.

Not having my work hard drive means I was able to just focus on the stuff that wasn’t specific to research today. In all the chaos of today, I’ve set myself up well for a research-heavy rest of the week where I (hopefully) won’t have to worry about non-research stuff or big changes to the schedule and can just burrow into research, emerging for occasional seminar/webinar breaks. A good Monday, all around.

[the-gneech]

(Image Source: https://www.themarysue.com/riverdale-netflix-meme-video/)

One of my writing pals contacted me yesterday: he was trying to write a story for The Reclamation Project but wasn’t happy with the results he was coming up with. In an effort to get his creative juices flowing, I sent him a link to a Pinterest board I had created to help me get into the right frame of mind.

“Maybe I’ve been going around this wrong,” he replied. “I’ve been trying to pull story ideas out of thin air, but that’s proving hard. I used to go looking at pictures, but it felt like a crutch…”

I’m here to tell you, when it comes to creating story ideas, there’s no such thing as a crutch. There are only tools!

Inspiration is a Fickle Mistress

Sometimes a story will leap nearly fully-formed into your head, and the biggest obstacle is making sure to get it all written down before you forget it. And those times when the Muse Burns Within You are amazing!

…But unreliable.

If you want to get somewhere as a professional writer, you need to be able to create stories on demand. While “writer’s block” is a very personal experience, in my own case it’s often a matter of “perfect being the enemy of good.” Writing as a deliberate craft is less like dictating the voice of the muse, and more like slopping a giant blob of clay onto the wheel and spinning it into a useful shape — and since the final product is going to be vastly different from that original lump of clay anyhow, you can use whatever you need to get it started. Write about your cat. Take a story out of the news, flip the gender of all parties involved, and set it on a space station or in ancient Babylon. All you need is a starting point!

Here are some starting points I like to use…

Image Boards

A picture can be worth a lot more than a thousand words. Looking at an evocative image and asking yourself, “What’s happening here? Who are these people? How did this come to pass?” might be all you need to get the ball rolling.

I’ve already mentioned Pinterest. It’s not the best for all applications (it’s terrible about original sources, just for starters), but just in terms of finding neat pictures to look at it’s a good start. Tumblr is another source that’s easy to search by keyword. Want to write steampunk? Check out Steampunk Tendencies. Need a very specific “anime + elves” vibe? Do a keyword search for “anime elves.” If you can think of something, there’s probably at least one and possibly several blogs devoted to it.

The point of these boards is not to give you “the thing” you’re going to write; just lifting someone else’s creative work and repackaging it as your own would be a crutch, and worse. The point of these boards is to give you suggestions for moments, or ideas, or possibilities, that you will then weave into your own stories. An old pulp sci-fi painting I found on Pinterest gave me an arresting visual image; when I combined that with my own characters and plot it became a 15,000-word story.

Story Prompts

Story prompts are everywhere, from games like Rory’s Story Cubes or Storymatic, to NaNoWriMo Word Wars, to Writer’s Digest. One friend of mine sometimes uses Tarot readings to create story outlines.

I generally find prompts to be very hit-or-miss; if I don’t have a single notion in my head, the phrase “When you come to a fork in the road, take it!” is not going to be enough by itself. However, a prompt combined with something else — a character idea, for instance, or a relationship dynamic I want to explore — can sometimes be just enough to prod me into the right direction.

Fanfic

Here’s my secret, Cap: almost all my fic is fanfic.

Everybody knows about 50 Shades by now, right? My novel Sky Pirates of Calypsitania began its life as a notion for an AU fic about “Rainbow Dash, Airship Pirate,” even if the final story doesn’t have a little pony in sight.

Fanfic is a massive creative energy generator (well deserving of a Hugo award). One of its most powerful features is that, by piggy-backing onto established properties, it allows writers to cut to the chase in their story creation. The characters are already established and the rules of the universe are already written, so all the writer has to do is figure out what happens and write that.

Remember, however, that we’re talking about tools to get you started here, not finished stories. If all you do is shave the names and serial numbers off of a fanfic and repackage it as a new story, people are gonna notice. Fanfic can give you the bones of an outline, but you still have to go back and do the work of establishing your characters, and building your world, before you can truly call the work your own.

Genre-Mashing

This is a long-established practice, and a great one. Take two very different things you love, mash ’em together, and see what sparks fly. Put Casablanca in space and you get Babylon 5. Put a roaming samurai in the old west and you get A Fistful of Dollars. Put British snark and a touch of sentimental romance into The Book of Revelation and you get Good Omens.

There’s a lot of crossover between this category and fanfic — “alternate universe,” “fix-fic,” and “X but Y” are all well-traveled fanfic paths. You could make a cogent argument that Lord of the Rings is “Macbeth Meets Der Rings Des Nibelungen,” and Tolkien did all right for himself.

Writing to Market

And of course, there’s always just finding out what an editor wants, and writing that. For The Perfect Warrior, I was given the title and back cover blurb, and told to write an adventure that matched it.

In some ways, this is just a leveled-up version of a writing prompt. Cruising sites like Manuscript Wishlist, or checking out upcoming anthologies in your favorite genres, can not only spark cool story ideas, but has the added bonus of giving you a target market and a deadline!

Don’t Be Precious

Whatever method you use to get words flowing, the important thing to remember is that writing any story is a process and a journey. Give yourself permission to create something rough, and get writing! In the words of Tim Powers, “The first draft is supposed to be crap.” Where would the skill of the sculptor come in, if the blob of clay was perfect when it was first plopped down?

[recentanimenews]

Manga Editor Yumi Sukemune on Making Princess Jellyfish and the History of Shojo

Most writing about manga focuses on the artists and writers credited on the covers of the books. But there’s another role that’s indispensable to the creative process for most manga series: the editor. In addition to managing the manga production schedule, editors provide creative guidance for artists, in some cases acting as equal partners in coming up with the storylines and characters of their series.

A year ago at Anime Expo 2017, I sat down with manga editor Yumi Sukemune to chat about her work with Akiko Higashimura, the artist behind the josei (adult women’s manga) series Princess Jellyfish about a group of geeky women living together in a Tokyo apartment complex. But our conversation wandered a bit outside of her day job, revealing an editor with a critical, feminist perspective on the history of shojo (girls’ manga).

Thank you to Ms. Sukemune and Kodansha interpreter Misaki Kido for the interview opportunity, and for their patience as this interview sat in draft form for an entire year. It took a while to get this one out, but I think it was worth it!

First off, how did you get started as a manga editor?

I joined Kodansha 12 years ago right out of college. I’ve been assigned to the Kiss Magazine Editorial Department the entire time. The editor of Attack on Titan joined Kodansha the same year.

What titles have you edited?

Princess Jellyfish and Tokyo Tarareba Girls, which is Higashimura’s follow-up series about 30-something-year-old ladies. It’s like a Tokyo version of Sex and the City. A lot of titles that aren’t published outside of Japan. I always have five to six titles that I’m looking at at any time.

How typical is it for a manga editor to be editing multiple titles at the same time?

It’s pretty common.

What’s the process for how editors are assigned to titles?

For those existing series, there might be editors already assigned to them, but in Japanese companies, people rotate from department to department fairly frequently. So when some editor leaves the department, if the title needs a new editor, then that’s an opportunity where you might get assigned to an existing title.

In my case with Higashimura, there was another editor before me, but then that person left. But besides that, I was already close with Higashimura because we both liked Johnnys idol groups. That was our connection.

So when the previous editor left, because I was pretty personally connected to Higashimura, I became the editor.

Is Higashimura going to do an idol series?

(laughs) She loves K-Pop right now.

Being an editor is a creative role in addition to an administrative one. Is that assignment process partially based on story fit in addition to being good at managing an artist?

There’s no test for it or anything like that, but when you’re being hired into the company, in the interview process, they’re looking at the way you talk, the way you express yourself. The people looking for new hires are picking up those kinds of personality traits. So those are some of the challenging aspects.

In other cases, when you first start to become an editor, you team up with more of a veteran, “sempai,” editor. Then, when they go together to a creator’s house and they have a meeting, the sempai editor will ask you things like, “What would you do in this case of the story?”  You’re on the spot and you have to express what your opinion is.

A lot of the editors love manga of course, but they also study and watch a lot of movies and stuff like that too. There are a lot of movie otaku.

I imagine they read a lot of books too.

Yes.

So in terms of the creativity, of course there’s individuality, but at the same time … being in love with the character, that’s just being a fan. As an editor you have to really think about where the story’s going: beginning, middle, and end. You need to look at it constructively and then put your opinions into those critical perspectives. That’s something that’s expected from an editor. And then, depending on your level of skills in addition to your creativity, you could become a hit-maker editor or not.

The Manga Editing Process

What’s a day in the life of a manga editor like?

My working hours are flexible. Most of the manga artists work at night. So in the morning, a lot of people just watch movies and things like that. Around noon-ish, that’s when we go to work. But then we won’t be able to go back home until the last train.

In terms of shojo manga artists specifically, it’s kind of a one-on-one relationship of manga artist to editor, so as long as we can stay in touch with those artists, we can work from anywhere. We can work from home too.

Regarding Higashimura, she works on so many series at once, but she also has a lot of assistants and they’re kind of set up like a studio. Their schedule usually starts at 11 AM and goes until 7 PM. So in terms of Higashimura, she definitely doesn’t work beyond those hours. She won’t pull all-nighters, she won’t work on weekends. She keeps a work-life balance.

Do a lot of very successful manga artists do that?

It’s not regular at all!

Because it’s set up like a production studio, the main artist Higashimura just does the rough sketches for the story and she also does the penciling. But from there on she actually works with other staff, and they finish her work.

When the artist sets up a production studio-type of setup, then they can actually work on more than just one title at a time. But not too many female artists actually do it like that. Usually if you work with shojo manga artists they’re working with their friends and just barely making the 30 pages each month.

You mentioned in the Kodansha panel earlier that Ms. Higashimura is the most prolific current shojo manga artist. That she has the most titles.

That’s true. She works with all the major publishers.

Speaking of staying in touch with artists, we were looking at your phone before. Could you talk about the process? You two are on LINE sending “names” (rough manuscript drawings) back and forth, right?

(She shows me her LINE message history with Ms. Higashimura.)

Yesterday Higashimura sent a name. I usually just loosely say “I kind of want to see the first draft by this day.”

The name stage is usually very simple. But for her, she makes it very detailed. This one has notes on how to finish these panels for the assistants. So, “Put the shadow on here, on the blue.”

Here’s what I’m saying in these messages: “Sorry about the delay of this post. I think the name is really awesome. I think we can use it just the way it is. Especially the scenes in the past and the scene about grilled fish. You’re actually connecting them indirectly. I think it’s really well done. I am here in LA in the morning. I was in awe for a minute. If you’ve got a continuation of these pages please send it to me.”

What stickers do you use on LINE?

We mostly send photos. Not a lot of stickers.

(She shows another name with red pen marks on it.) This is proofing. I use red pen to mark things.

Princess Jellyfish is a really honest portrayal of fujoshi and otaku culture and social anxiety. What sort of conversations do you two have about telling this kind of story?

She often models these characters off of her real-life friends. There’s a friend of hers who’s into dolls. Also all her assistants are super manga otaku. While they’re working, they’re always chatting, for example, having a funny conversation with different ways to end a sentence. The way they talk is unique. She picks it up while she’s writing. Whenever I meet her or even on LINE, Higashimura mentions, “Oh this funny thing happened.” I say, “That’s really funny, why don’t you write about it?”

Communicating and keeping friendships with people outside of work is one of the main reasons she insists on doing the 11–7 shifts, the work-life-balance. Tokyo Tarareba Girls is really based on all her friends who are editors, who are always bitching about something. It’s like, “I’m working so hard, but I have no boyfriend. What’s going on?” She writes about that.

As her editor, my main job is to figure out what she’s into, what her main focus is right now, and to encourage her, to ask “why don’t you write that into the story?”

Shojo and “Waiting for Men”

In the panel earlier you talked about how shojo has changed. You said it was about waiting for a boy to discover you, and now it’s about girls saying “this is my way of life.” Why do you think that is?

I think the biggest influence was Sailor Moon. I’m 34 now. When I was little, Sailor Moon was a current, ongoing series. Up until the emergence of Sailor Moon, all the manga was really about an average girl being discovered by a boy. That was the classic formula. But as soon as Sailor Moon hit, everything changed into a new generation of girls who had the ability to do what they wanted to do in life.

Around that time in the history of Japan, women were starting to get accepted into regular workplaces. The timing in history might have contributed to the message too.

For those girls who grew up with Sailor Moon and keep that true to their hearts, as they get older they become these really strong women and do things for themselves.

Do you think the cultural shift influenced Sailor Moon? Or the other way around?

Sailor Moon was originally supposed to become an anime by the time it started. There was a project for the anime too, they worked on them together. So instead of waiting for the stories to finish, they actually continued the story at the same pace in manga and anime. Because it was a collaborative project between the artist and the animation studio, it wasn’t really up to the creator herself. The creation came from the anime production team as well.

Princess Jellyfish is josei though, not shojo, right?

Yes. The magazine is a josei magazine, although story-wise, none of them are working, so it’s more in the realm of shojo manga, really. And definitely the style is shojo manga.

How much of what you were describing about shojo applies to josei?

In the josei manga genre, unlike shojo manga, it’s not all pure and fresh. It’s not that kind of puppy love story. But in terms of the main character opening up the door to their own life, it’s actually consistent between both shojo and josei manga.

Was josei already doing that, though?

Even in josei manga back in the day, even though they were working women, the formula of an average woman being discovered by men was still the same. It’s like all the characters are mature adults, but it’s still this bubbly romance.

There’s a series called Tramps Like Us (Kimi wa Pet) in Kiss Magazine. It’s a story about a girl picking her favorite boy and keeping him in her house. The pet is a boy.

That change is interesting. Early shojo manga like the works of the Showa 24 Group weren’t about women waiting for men.

Those series like Rose of Versailles are very eternal, evergreen titles. Those tend to be the formula of the character seeking their own path. Those legendary creators: Keiko Takemiya, Moto Hagio. Series that actually stick around long enough to be classics, they tend to be based on main characters finding their own path. But series that became very popular hits but eventually as time goes became lost and forgotten, those are the ones with the formula where the girl gets discovered by the boy.

I feel like in the 1980s shojo manga went in that direction a bit.

Yes, during the bubble economy. Back in the ’80s during the economic boom, it was all about what kind of relationship can you have as a person. That was the biggest focus.

Keiko Takemiya was told by an editor that a story was not going to be a hit; it was complicated, it should be more romance. But she really felt strongly about writing those kinds of stories. So she created The Poem of Wind and Trees (Kaze to Ki no Uta) from there. It’s a really famous Boys Love manga now.

It really shows how hard it was for those female creators in the ’80s to stand up for what they wanted to write about and to execute their expression and get published.

There have been a lot of fans who have been supportive of creators like Takemiya, but at the time, those fans were a way smaller fraction of fans. But post-Sailor Moon people began to accept and understand and like those formulas too. In terms of The Rose of Versailles, it’s inspired by the sort of “fantasy” admiration toward French culture. So that brought in the audience. It’s not really because of feminism. It’s because France is cool.

But it sounds like Sailor Moon represents more of a true feminist shift.

I think so.

There’s an element of romance in Sailor Moon with Tuxedo Mask but that’s not the focus of the series and that’s not the reason why she’s fighting. She’s also looking out for her teammates and friends.

In the US a lot of fans had a very similar response. Because we didn’t get a lot of female characters with that kind of agency.

Everything is connected. No matter where you’re from you really want to cherish and respect yourself in terms of your personality.

As an editor, I always question the difference between the audiences. Like, the school life in America and Japan is different. Is that something that affects the popularity of manga?

The portrayal of the cool, attractive boys seems to be very different here in the US too. I think that might affect whether a manga series becomes popular overseas, not just in Japan. Series like Sailor Moon and Cardcaptor Sakura, ones set in fantasy-based worlds, are kind of rare in shojo manga. They’re just a fraction, and the rest of the titles are focused on school life and slice-of-life stories.

Even the editors and executives in Japan, they’re thinking that whatever is available here and the shojo manga outside of Japan is just a fraction of the shojo manga that is available.

The High School Formula

Have you edited any of those high school titles before?

I have a series called Love’s Reach. In shojo manga, there are a lot of teacher-student relationships, but elsewhere that’s illegal, right? Love’s Reach is the standard shojo manga formula: school life, always a big event with some emotionally thrilling moments. So if people actually get into these series and accept these kinds of stories then we can introduce a bunch more shojo manga. A lot of the shojo manga that’s available here, like Princess Jellyfish or Nana, is kind of irregular compared to the rest of the shojo manga in Japan.

Is there anything different about editing for one of those school life series versus something more irregular?

For Princess Jellyfish, the creation starts with Higashimura’s inspiration, ideas, and imagination. In terms of things like Love’s Reach, there’s the standard formula and then you put a good talented artist on it. So during the meeting, I say things like “do you want to go on a school trip now?” Like, “this is a good time now.” We have these formulas so you can sort of test the artist to see if they can work creatively with those frameworks and make them their own. That’s how each of the creators’ talents emerge.

Because the history of shojo manga is so long in Japan, there are readers who just want to read a formulaic story. Instead of going into a really fresh story that’s very imaginative, some people just want to read the same old story right before they go to bed after coming back from a long day of work.

In fact, a lot of the digital shojo manga sales in Japan happen after 11 PM. It’s interesting. They probably just buy it and read it and just fall asleep. Maybe right before you’re going to bed and you’re relaxing, you might not want to be introduced to super fresh, super imaginative ideas.

(laughs) The Rose of Versailles is too heavy!

(laughs) I might dream about it or something!

Of course sexy titles and “ero” manga too. Manga that you don’t want to have as a book also sell during nighttime.

It’s important for big publishers to fulfill all these people’s needs. Of course we want to create something new, but we also want to produce something that our audience would want.

Thank you so much for your time!

Manga Editor Yumi Sukemune on Making Princess Jellyfish and the History of Shojo originally appeared on Ani-Gamers on October 2, 2018 at 10:14 PM.

By: Evan Minto

[allienjoyz]

Sanji x Nami FF - Letting Go Ch. 2

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece just my FF

Summary: This is a FF “Version” of the WCI-Theme set in an AU. The story differs a lot from the original

Warning: English is not my first language ;)

Link to CH 1: https://allienjoyz.tumblr.com/post/160626548893/sanji-x-nami-ff-letting-go-ch1

Next Chapter: https://allienjoyz.tumblr.com/post/160670485138/sanji-x-nami-ff-letting-go-chap-3

The next day Nami was on her way home from work. It was a rough day so she almost forgot about last evening. Almost. Sanji and her didn’t talk too much yesterday and his fake smile was really worrying her – it was so unlike him. Normally he would go head over heels for her spending time with him, but all he did was quietly drying the dishes she had handed him. By now she was also wondering why it bothered her that much. Sure Sanji was her friend and it was natural to worry about friends, but it wasn’t like something really bad happened to Sanji, at least for what she knew, everyone is in a bad mood from time to time, so why did it bother her. Nami took out her mobile to check on time: 07:23 o’Clock. “So it must be dark already…” she thought, sighing about all the time she had to spend at work for such a low amount of money.

The subway stopped. Nami was walking fast off the station turning round the corner when she suddenly felt someone’s hand on her mouth.  “Wow what a rare beauty…” she heard a deep voice right behind her left ear. This man was so close that she could feel his warm breath on her neck. Nami dropped her phone trying to pull the arm of the man, who was holding her rudely, away from her. But she had no chance. “You’re right, what a happy coincidence. At least we can make use of her in more than one way than” Another man appeared in front of hair. She couldn’t see his face, because of the sunglasses and jacket he wore. The only thing she could see was his red hair. She thought about her options: Both of the two man seemed to be strong and from the physical appearance of one of than she could guess, that they were probably faster that her. Trying to fight them off and running a way wouldn’t be the winning option then. She had to get help. Her phone was lying on the ground, so no chance there. The area was known for it’s lack of inhabitants and life in the streets, the chance of meeting someone was low, the chance of meeting someone was even lower. So what to do? Her only chance would be tricking these man.  

She tried to relax her body. She took a deep breath and raised her hands as if she’d surrender.  The red haired man smiled “Smart girl… You’re coming with us. Yonji put her some handcuffs on and get her in the car.” The red haired man walked towards a black car which just stood on the roadside. The man behind her took his hand off her mouth to bend her hands behind her back. She heard the handcuffs clatter. This was her chance. She turned around grabbing the handcuffs and locking them around the hands of the man who was looking at her not realizing what was going on. She kicked him between the legs as hard as she could and ran off in the direction opposite to where the car stood.  The adrenalin kicked trough her veins as she run. From behind she heard some angry yells that came nearer and nearer. In panic her eyes were searching for something to help her. Suddenly she saw a police car a few meters away. Nami gave everything she had to speed up and get to the police car, the man who were behind her couldn’t possibly abduct her, or whatever they were trying to do to her, in front of the police.

Sweat was running down her forehead when she finally reached the police car. When the officer saw her he immediately got out of the car. “Lady is everything alright? What is wrong?” “There are two men… ha… ha… haa….following me – please help.” Namis was panting heavily. “Of course Ms. you’re sa…” the police officer got interrupted by one of Namis chasers. “Hello Mr. Police Officer thank you for catching our prey” the smile on the man’s face was bold and disgusting. Namis eyes wandered from her hunters to the police officers. He was in shock. In his eyes panic, his lips pressed together. Slowly he let his head sink. “Vinsmoke-sama…” he nodded shortly without lifting his head. Namis eyes widened in shock. She would get no help here. She jogged the police officer and begged “Please. Help.” But there was no response. Furious with anger she hit the police officer with her fist, then turned towards her chaser with the aim to hit them with all she got. But the red haired man hold her fist in front of his face, before her fist could reach it – effortlessly. “You know” the red haired man started while his smile got bolder and wider “you should have been a good girl and not such a pain in the ass. But lucky for you I like the fiery type… Nami” In this moment Namis heart skipped a beat. They knew her, they came for her. She was not just a random victim. But why? The man smile disappeared. Before Nami could react or ask why they wanted her, she felt his fist in her face and everything went dark.

 Sanji was at home entering the bathroom, when he heard his mobile ring. He went back to his room to look who was calling but he already knew it. 3 days ago an unknown number had called him, when he answered the call he heard the voice of a man saying “Son…” Sanji didn’t have to think a second about who has called it was his father, his real father. The young man immediately hung up, as he had no interest to have any kind of relationship with his real family again. The number had called Sanji multiple times a day since then, but Sanji didn’t answered any of it. A short view on his mobile assured him that it was just another call of this number again. So Sanji went back to the bath again. He had the morning shift at work today, so he was home early. He had time to prepare the dinner, clean the house a bit and to work out. “It must be late by now” Sanji thought to himself and sighed. He had tried to keep himself buzzy all day with the aim to keep the remorse away from his mind, he still felt guilty for lying to Nami and now that he was standing under the hot water pattering down on him, there was nothing that could keep these guilty feelings away. Even if he wanted to tell Nami or his friends what was bothering him, he didn’t know how. Belonging to that family like his, that kept murdering, betraying and oppressing people was sure as hell nothing he’d be proud of. He had never seen himself as a part of this family, never seen himself as Vinsmoke Sanji. Not that his family had seen him as one of them. So he thought when he finally had the opportunity to leave this place that he was never going to be confronted with this family again.  Telling other people about a fact, that he didn’t accept, that meant nothing to him seemed to be pointless. But now that Sanji was continuously getting receiving calls and with his father stepping into public, which surely didn’t mean any good, his parentage was becoming a matter and he could not deny that.

 Sanji cut the water and stepped out of the shower. He look in the mirror and held his braid out of his face. He looked at his eyebrows, this damn Vinsmoke-Curles. It would only be a matter of time till his shitty brothers would step in the spotlight as well and not long from this point he had to tell his friends – his beloved family. When he finished wiping himself dry he returned to his room. His phone was blinking so he opened it surprised to see that he got a message. The message has been sent by the same number that was calling him every day and Sanji thought about deleting it unread, when he noticed the attachment.  This couldn’t mean any good. His heartbeat slightly speeded up when he read the message “Surprise for you” and it completely stopped beating when he opened the attachment. It was a picture. A picture of Nami lying somewhere -unconscious. A laceration above her right eye was bleeding and her eye was slightly swollen.

Sanji, for the first time in forever, was in panic. He had the feeling someone kicked him right in to the stomach, while he was drowning in a sea of very cold and heavy water. He felt like he was chocking. His whole body was shivering. He was grabbing his phone so tight, that the screen began to split. Thousands of thoughts were rushing through his mind: Why did they get her? How did they knew about her? Why her? Why not him? What are they going to do to her? And what did they want from him?

After a few minutes Sanji called the number. If he wanted answers to those questions he had to ask. “Sanji” the voice on the other side was not his fathers, but one of his brother though he didn’t know which one. “How are you?” Sanji had to calm himself to not shout at that bastard to not show how desperate he was.

“Quit that shit. What are you doing with her?”

“Well since you were not willed to answer our calls, we had to get well…. A good argument for you to visit us.”

Sanji felt like he was hit in the face – They kidnapped and hurt Nami because he didn’t answer the phone. He would never forgive himself for this.

“What do you want from me then?”

“Well as you know our beloved father has by strange coincidences just gained the office of the mayor. These coincidences do want to be rewarded, strange as it sounds: you are the reward”

Sanji didn’t get it.

“What. Do. You. Want.?”

“You’re a price to be sold. Congratulations brother you will be given as a husband to a sweet young lady.”

Sanji didn’t know what to say. His mind was empty right now. Marry? But who? And why him?

“You’re better going to attend to that wedding or your little friend is going to get hurt really really bad. And you don’t want anything to happen to Nami-Chan, right?”

Sanjis anger was right back up. How could he dare to call her like this?

“If I come – you let her go?”

“I don’t know brother…. She’s something very special, so beautiful and … sexy. Maybe I’ll keep her to have some fun. But don’t let that stop you from coming, you have other friends we can use to get what we want.”

Then his brother was gone. He had hung up. Sanji was cooking. He felt like ripping his brother apart. His phone vibrated. A message with a location. Sanji finished dressing himself and then ran out of the room as fast as he could. Past his friends who he could hear were asking what was wrong, straight to his car that he started. He didn’t even put his seatbelt on before rushing towards the location that has been send to him. Everything that was on his mind now was saving Nami. Because if one of his brothers hurt her our touched her in any way again. He swear he’d kill them and maybe himself.

[talkingboards]

On Monday afternoon, I received a text from Gene Orlando, from the Museum of Talking Boards. He sent me a link to a tumblr post and when I clicked on it I nearly fell off my chair. Smack dab in the post was a photo of one of the first #Ouija boards circa 1890 to have the word Ouija on it and a stamp on the back that reads “Patent Applied For”. We’ve seen this version only once before in a 2003 eBay auction. It was in rough shape and for whatever reason I let it go. I’ve been beating myself up for that every day since. But, here in front of me is an almost mint copy of that very board! I fell over myself trying to track down and contact the owner of the post, Charles Kline. From tumblr I moved onto his Instagram, then his Facebook, website, and email. So, I did what every obsessed person does, I sent the same message to him every which way I could, through all of his accounts asking him to contact me about that board. OK, OK it was stalkerish but what else was I supposed to do? Less than an hour later I got a call from Baltimore, and I thought to myself, no way?! Baltimore was where Ouija was named and first manufactured. Sure enough it was Charles Kline, the man who owned and posted the board. He was as surprised to hear from me as I was to see his board. We talked, I explained why that board was so significant to me and how early it was. It was the board I’d been waiting a long time for. He told me how he found it at an antique store while looking for props for a movie. I finally got the guts up to tell him how badly I wanted the board and asked what he needed to part with it. His answer? “What’s your address?” Ha! I wanted to buy it but he felt the circumstances were so perfect, that the stars had aligned, and this might be fate, he insisted the board was mine and this was meant to be. He was so sure that after we got off the phone he drove straight to the UPS store and mailed it off just before it closed. What kind of guy gives you something you’ve been after for years for the sheer thrill of making someone happy? Well, Charles Kline for one. It’s one of the kindest, coolest, selfless things a stranger has ever done for me before and I can’t thank you enough. I will find a way to repay you and just know you’ve got a friend in Denver now! The board arrived yesterday and I’m over the moon and seeing stars. Gene, Charles, this board, and the story behind it mean the world to me, and every time I look at it I’ll remember how it came to be. Now if the story wasn’t strange enough, get a load of this. While I was waiting for the board to arrive I kept looking at those posts, and suddenly I saw something I’d missed. Charles had found and posted this board on February 20, 2016 – my birthday! So, last year, while I was in Boston having a Ouija birthday party, another birthday gift was working its way to me, it just took a year to make its next stop on its journey. Thank you Gene and Charles, you made this Ouija Maniac the happiest guy ever :)

[badlydrawnyullen]

Who’s the Most Desperate in the Land?

Series Summary:  A series of drabbles where Alma lives, and Kanda, Alma, and Allen are in a happy poly relationship. Cue fluff with a smidge of angst. Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5,  Part 6

Story Summary: Kanda returns, tensions are high, and Alma and Kanda are the greatest lovers ever.

Rating: T

Warnings: language,  dissociation, panic attacks

(AO3 Version) || (FF Version)

     Sitting on the comfortable couch that was in Komui’s office, Allen felt as if he was going to be ill. Violently ill. He felt cold, slightly clammy, and he was positive that the cramping stomach and faint tremors running through his hands had nothing to do with a caught sickness. He clenched his hands as a means to deter the tremors, but frowned when they would not stop. So inwardly focused was he that he startled when he felt a warm hand encase one of his shaking ones. Adjacent to him, Alma was giving him on of their beautiful, deep smiles, the one that made him feel safe and secure.

     A pity that he had not been feeling a modicum of safety over the past month with nigh everyone looking at him like a freak and a monster. Oh yes, and he mustn’t forget scum, murderer, traitor, demon, and myriad of other choice names. While he never acted on the negativity that they all projected on him, he was not an ignorant fool.

      You may not be ignorant, but you’re still a fool, the voice in his mind commented in a tone that was a bewildering mix of condescending yet fond.

      Shut up, Allen hissed back mentally, I don’t need your opinion right now.

      He, Komui, Link, and Alma were waiting in Komui’s office for Kanda to show and give his mission report. He and Alma were sitting thigh to thigh on the couch while saving a space for Kanda to sit, Link had positioned himself at the door, and Komui was sitting at his desk, fingers steepled in front of his mouth. When the two exorcists had come to the Supervisor, explaining the need to have somewhere to hold an important discussion without roaming eyes and nosy ears, he agreed without question. He had offered his office as a place of refuge for them to wait for Kanda and to talk. To prying outsiders such as the Central guards, it would only appear as a simple mission debrief with an input of fellow exorcists.  

      Allen would have said that Komui was a godsend, but God no longer seemed to smile upon anyone in the Order. How could he, when they were sent like lambs to the slaughter every day? How could he, when the two loves of his life were created as weapons solely to be used and experimented on? How could he, when the prospect of leaving humanity behind to join his very enemies that treated him with more kindness than the majority of the Order seemed more and more appealing? Despite that, Allen was loath to admit that he still prayed every night to the God that abandoned them all like a good little Catholic boy should. Memorized passages, words of desperation, and pleas to the kingdom of saints and the Holy Virgin Mary painted his lips as often as the blood he coughed up from his injuries. They were pleas of safe passage to his friends travelling across country borders, pleas of protection to his comrades fighting nearly every day, and pleas of pathetic desperation that his loves would live to see another day, to be healthy and together and with one another. ‘Don’t separate them again. Not in yet another life,’ was his personal favorite. They could survive with one another…If something ever happened to him, they would have each other.

      Even if he did survive the absolute mess that was his life now, there was no way he was going to live past the age of thirty with his parasitic Innocence…

       Across the room, he noticed Link stiffen and lean his head closer to the door as if to better hear something. After a beat, he turned to them and said, “Kanda will be here shortly.”

      With that, the sickening unease returned to Allen, and he swallowed hard. He knew this conversation needed to happen, needed to be brought to light, but that did not mean it was going to be any easier.

      God have mercy on your souls, was Neah’s mocking chuckle.

       Without any preamble, as was his usual fashion, Kanda barged into the office with a frown on his face. To anyone other than Allen and Alma, that scowl would announce a terrible mood, but to them it was a signal of the raven-haired man’s tiredness. There was dust at the bottom of his gold-lined coat, and Allen could already see that next to him, Alma had a need to clean it. The Second liked to keep things clean (at least their clothes, anyway).

      Kanda stopped and narrowed his eyes, taking in all the people in the room. After flicking his attention to Komui and Link, he met gazes with his two lovers. A slight tilt of the head and twitch of the fingers belied his suspicion, and Alma met it with a mouthed explanation of ‘Don’t worry.’ He rested his gaze on the two of them a moment longer before turning to Komui and tossing the mission folder on the heavy oak desk.

      “…I thought this was a mission briefing,” he knit his eyebrows together. “What are Allen, Alma, and the lapdog doing here?” Even after returning to the Order together, the two men still had not rectified their differences. On any normal occasion, Allen would have chided Kanda for his sour attitude towards Link, but now was not the time.

      Komui sighed as he brushed the folder to the side of his desk, along with the mountain of other paperwork that everyone knew that he had yet to read. “I can read your report in due time. However, it seems that we have a rather urgent matter on our hands. It needs to be discussed with everyone present, though we cannot have…certain individuals overhearing.” There was no need to clarify who the people in question were. The tall scientist nodded his head in Allen’s direction, rubbing a calloused thumb over his knuckle in a worried fashion. “Allen will take it from here as he is the one who called for this meeting in the first place.”

      All eyes were on him and he forced himself to stay (somewhat) calm as he stood from his spot; it was now or never. He locked eyes, mercury to crimson, with Link across the room and received an encouraging nod in return. Clearing his throat, he began, “Thank you, Komui. I…I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, especially after we came back to the Order. This Holy War,” he could not keep the sneer out of his voice or off his face, “has been going on for far too long. Even I can tell, despite being here for almost two years. The Noah and the Earl have been getting bolder and bolder, and I hate to say this, but we have not been making the best progress.” He began to pace, trying to gather his thoughts.

      With visible reluctance, Kanda took a seat on the couch, eyes never leaving the white-haired exorcist. “We all know that, Moyashi. What’s your point?”

      A non-heated glare was sent his way. “My point, Bakanda, is…is, well—I know that none of you are going to like it. But Link has known since we’ve come back to the Order, and Alma partially found out yesterday.” Allen took a breath, trying to stave away the queasiness that was coming back with a vengeance. This is not going to end well. “I’m sorry for not telling you, but I’ve been actively communicating with the Fourteenth.”

      Their reactions were all of what he expected: Komui’s surprise was shown through his widened eyes behind his glasses and his tensed posture, while Kanda’s shock and subsequent anger were more prominent. Despite having sat for only a moment, he shot up from his seat, hands clenched and slanted eyes wide. “What the hell, Moyashi?! I fucking thought you were purposely ignoring that ass-hat.” To anyone that did not know Kanda as well as he or Alma did, the Japanese exorcist would have sounded furious; however, to Allen’s ears, his rough tone masked his deep concern and worry.

      Alma rose from their seat and stood next to Kanda, putting their hands on his shoulders. “Yuu.”

      “Allen, what have…” Komui spoke with a touch of unease underlining his voice, “what have you and the Fourteenth been discussing?”

      The drained, cursed teenager dropped his gaze to the messy, paper-covered floor. “I am tired, Komui. I am very, very tired. I’m tired of watching people die senselessly, I’m tired of having to fight for my body, and I am tired and done with running.” Frown stretching his lips, he steeled his gaze back to all of them before announcing, “I made a deal with Neah to join the third side of the war. Link and I are going to leave the Order.”

      Now, if what he had said before had caused some unrest, this statement brought forth a surging wave of chaos.

      Alma turned sharply at him, panic alight in their russet-brown eyes. “Allen, no!” Please don’t think I’m abandoning you, love.

      Komui finally stood from his seat behind his desk, walking around the piece of furniture closer to Allen. “You can’t be serious, Allen…Why? You were just reinstated!”

      “You must be out of your goddamn mind,” growled Kanda, eyes blazing. “You think we’re just going to let you walk away after all that work we did—that you did—in order to come back?!”

       It’s not like he wanted to go and leave all his precious people behind, but he had to do this. “There’s no other way,” Allen sighed as he stopped pacing. “Look, I can’t stay here, not with Neah in my body, not with the Earl getting increasingly adamant on capturing me. On top of that, I can’t in good faith work at the Order anymore, not with the knowledge of what they’ve done to all the people I care about.” Saying that, he gave pointed looks to Alma and Kanda. “Please understand,” he begged.

      “Fuck that!” Kanda slashed a hand in front of himself. “I am not letting you go, dammit! You think being here is bad? Think about what the Earl is going to do to you when you’re out there all alone. What then, Moyashi?”

      Alma reached a hand to clutch at Allen’s shirt sleeve. “You’re going to be an easier target for the Akuma and Noah, Al. Even if you came to an agreement with Neah like you said you have, it’s not going to end well at all!”

      “I won’t be able to keep Central off your tail, Allen,” Komui spoke, but what Allen heard behind the words was ‘I can’t keep you safe if you’re not here.’ Bless this man. Komui’s heart was too big for his own good: too caring, too passionate.

      Link, ever present near the door, finally offered his two cents. “Allen and I have been discussing this plan for a long while now. We’ve concluded that this is the best decision. Please respect it.”

      “No!” came the harmonious shut-down from Alma and Kanda.

      “I cannot, in good conscious, condone this, Allen,” Komui fiddled with his glasses, severe frown on his face.

      I knew this was not going to end well, but I need them to understand. I can’t keep putting them in danger. It’s my fault they keep getting hurt, shite. “I know none of you approve, but I have to do this!” He growled through gritted teeth. Tears stung his eyes, and he was quick to blink them away, trying to keep some sort of composure together. “I…” he took a shaky breath, “I just…Let me protect you, please.”

      The atmosphere in the room was tense, and Allen was sure that was not the reason he was having some trouble breathing. Alma and Kanda moved to engulf him in an embrace, but he stepped away not wanting the contact right now. The fabric of his clothing—What was I wearing again? —rubbed against his skin in a way that set his teeth on edge, despite being the clothing that was most comfortable in his very small wardrobe. He could not help but scratch his arms, the feeling of biting insects crawling underneath his skin.  There was a distinct buzzing in his ears that was beginning to drown out most of what the others were saying. Don’t leave, Allen. Stay in the moment, stay in the moment, he chanted, trying to anchor himself and not drift. Stay here, stay here, stayhere, stayherestayherestaySTAYSTAY—

      “Leaving isn’t protecting us, baka. You should—”

      “—don’t think that’s wise, since—”

      Too many words, too many voices. What were they saying? Shut up, shut up, shut up, why don’t you lot understand??! Why wouldn’t the ringing go away?

      “…not possible…the Order—”

      “Going on the run again…we’ve already—”

      You should have just left in silence, fool. This would have been much easier without anyone knowing of your departure.

      Please stop, be quiet, be quiet, bequietbequietbequietbequietBEQUIET! You don’t understand, you need me to do this. If not you’ll—

      “…Allen are you alright?”

      “Al?”

      “Moyashi…? Allen!”

      “YOU’LL ALL DIE!” The scream that ripped from his throat was shrill and near animalistic; he had trouble recognizing that was indeed his own voice. He heaved, gulping large breaths of air as he tried to calm himself down. His head felt like it was about to split, his heart raced in his chest, and he was fairly certain the human body was not supposed to shake this much. After a solid minute of silence, once he became somewhat more coherent, he realized that he had (at some point) dropped to the ground in a ball, hands clutching his white hair and tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.

      The only sound permeating the air was his unsteady breathing. Everything hurt, everything was tense, and Jesus Christ why was this happening? “Y-You’ll all die if…if I don’t leave. Central wants my head and the Earl and Noah, my blood.” He took another gulping breath. “They’ll come after you…and you’ll die.” And I’ll lose everyone I’ve ever loved for good.

      I’ll be all alone again.

       “Allen…”

      “Oh, Allen—”

      He didn’t realize how long he had been stuck in his head; however, it must have been a good few minutes as he jolted when he felt someone touch his shoulder. He raised his head to see Kanda and Alma kneeling next to him, faces morose yet loving. Kanda was careful not to jostle him as he scooped him up in his lap and pressed his head against his chest. The steady beat of his core-heart was grounding, a song that only he and one other were allowed to hear whenever they needed. “…We are not going to die, Allen,” he said in a low voice. His lover petted his white hair while Alma grabbed his shaking, mismatched hands in theirs. “Fuck the other people. Fuck Central, fuck the Ear and the Noah, and fuck everyone else. We are not going to die, do you understand?”

      Don’t make promises you can’t keep, he wanted to say aloud, yet the words died in his throat. Mana promised to stay with me, and…he died. He died and came back through a fate worse than death…left me all alone. All alone, all alone alone ALONEALONEALONE. Did he love me? Did he really love me? Do they—”

      “Allen.”

      He blinked, and it took a moment to realize that he had become lost in his mind for a bit there. He locked eyes with Alma’s worried russet-brown, then tilted his head to see Kanda’s equally concerned cobalt. As if sensing his distress, the swordsman kissed him and drew him closer. He felt Alma wrap their arms around the both of them, and Allen was comforted by their elevated body temperatures. If they had to look on the bright side, at least being a Second meant not being cold easily.

      “We love you, Al,” Alma said as they kissed the crown of his head, “and we love you enough to stay by your side. We won’t leave you, ever.”

      Kanda grunted, and Allen was familiar enough with his caveman-esque sounds to understand that one meant agreement. “Listen to the sap, Allen. If you think we’re gonna let you waltz out of here by yourself and the lapdog, then you have another thing coming.”

      Allen looked helplessly at his lovers, then to Komui and Link. He was a selfish person her hated to admit, hoarding his loved one like a dragon would their valuables. If they died…I wouldn’t know what to do. “I can’t stay,” he croaked, throat sore from the screaming and crying.

      Kanda shifted against Alma and Allen. “Well, then the answer is easy.”

      Allen felt his eyebrow crease in confusion, slight frown on his face. “How so?”

      In the agitated atmosphere, Alma’s light and warm demeanor was a balm to Allen’s unease. “If you can’t go, we’ll just have to go with you! Pretty simple, if you ask me.”

      Without meaning to do so, Allen and Komui spluttered at the same time, thrown off balance. “W-Wait, what?! No way, I can’t let you two do that!” Allen protested.

      “You can’t be serious,” Komui gaped. “I’m not comfortable with Allen leaving, but for all three of you to go, including Link? There is no possible way that Central wouldn’t be on your tails, what with that many combatants gone rogue!”

      Alma and Kanda pulled Allen to his feet, and he was thankful for their steadying hands as he was still a little disoriented. This wasn’t the first time he’s needed help after an…episode; he had long since swallowed his pride. “Fuck Central,” Kanda said in his natural brusque fashion. “Think about it. It’d actually be safer if Allen had us along with him. The CROW over there is just one person. Moyashi is gonna need more backup if things go south.”

      At his position by the door, Link practically bristled. Allen knew that Link bad kept silent for the most part out of respect for him, Alma, and Kanda. However, he also knew from personal experience that Link was very prideful in his abilities and did not take any insult against them lightly, direct or indirect. “I am more than capable of defending both Allen and myself, Kanda Yuu.” Link’s voice was leaning towards a mix of a growl and a hiss. “It would behoove you not to underestimate me.”

      Their raven-haired lover stepped towards Link, squaring his shoulders and baring gritted teeth. “You trying to start something, lapdog?”

      “I assure you, you must be deluding yourself, hot head,” Link shot back, also taking a step toward Kanda.

      Jesus Christ, Allen did not need a pissing match right now.

      Just as Allen and Alma were going to say something, Komui stepped in before things could get ugly; he startled everyone when he slapped a hand on his desk, but it did its job at getting everyone’s attention. “Link, Kanda, control yourselves.” The two men harrumphed, well chided. The Supervisor took a breath to visibly collect himself. “Now, Allen, I have to reiterate that I cannot condone you all leaving, especially after returning so soon. But…I can turn a blind eye towards it.” Komui moved to stand in front of Allen—Alma and Kanda had moved aside when they had seen the man nearing—and put his hands on his shoulders. “I’ll give you three an open-ended mission under the guise of searching for several pieces of Innocence. That will keep Central and Leverrier off your backs for some time. But, Allen…” The exorcist was surprised when Komui hugged him tightly, continuing to speak in a tone akin to a mourner’s eulogy, “I’m afraid I cannot do any more than that to help you. I’m sorry.”

      Bleeding hell, Komui is such a good person, Allen though as he gripped the back of the taller man’s white jacket just a little bit tighter. He doesn’t deserve all the shit that he’s put through in this hell hole. “Thank you, and there’s nothing to apologize for,” he said, just above a whisper. “You do more for us than anybody else.” He chose not to comment on the watery sniffle he heard from Komui.

      The scientist turned to address the exorcists and the Inspector. “I can give you all a week to get ready for your…mission. Anything more and Central will get suspicious why you are taking so long to prepare. Use your time wisely, you all.” The ‘be careful’ was left unsaid.

      “We’ll try our best, Komui,” Alma replied, smile more on the grim side, “but you know us. Can’t promise anything.”

      “I know, and that’s what worries me. Oh, and I still need that mission report, Kanda.”

      Alma laughed while Kanda huffed. “Can’t get rid of us that easily, Moyashi.”

      “It’s Allen, Bakanda.”

      Do as the scientist said, Allen. You have one week to do everything that you need to get done: say your goodbyes, tie up any lose ends and such…because once the week is up, you better not have any regrets when we leave.

      One week, one week to go.

Written: 2/3/17 ; Posted: 4/4/17