#Old writing
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Old Notebook
#dark academia#dark academia aesthetic#light academia#light acadamia aesthetic#literature#classic#writing#booklr#art of writing#writings#my writing#writlbr#writlr#writing notes#writing aesthetic#writing about writing#spilled writing#spilled thoughts#spilled ink#spilled words#dark academia vibes#old writing#old aesthetic#noteblr#classic notebook
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Forbidden Love
Warnings: physical aggression, physical restraint, forbidden attraction, and romantic tension
In the dimly lit alley, Hero stumbled, their breath ragged and limbs heavy with exhaustion. They had been chasing Villain for what felt like an eternity, their determination fueled by a relentless sense of duty. But now, as they faced their adversary in the cold embrace of the night, Hero could feel the weight of their fatigue bearing down upon them.
Villain, ever the opportunist, seized the moment, lunging forward with predatory grace. Hero's reflexes were dulled by exhaustion, and before they could react, Villain had them pinned against the brick wall, their body pressed close, trapping the Hero.
"You look tired, Hero," Villain purred, their voice a low, taunting whisper that sent shivers down Hero's spine. "Is the weight of the world finally catching up to you?"
Hero gritted their teeth, refusing to show any signs of weakness in the face of their enemy's gloating. "Maybe," they managed to rasp out, "but that won't stop me from taking you down."
Villain chuckled darkly, their breath hot against Hero's neck. "Such bravado," they murmured, their lips dangerously close to Hero's ear. "But we both know you're no match for me in this state."
Hero's heart raced as they struggled against Villain's iron grip, their body pressed against the cold, unyielding wall. Every fiber of their being screamed for release, for freedom from Villain's suffocating hold. Yet, even in their exhaustion, a flicker of comfort grew within them, being so close to the villain.
As Villain's gaze bore into theirs, Hero felt something stir within them – a strange, forbidden attraction that blossomed despite the circumstances. There was something captivating about them, something that stirred Hero's heart in ways they couldn't explain.
"You may be right," Hero admitted, their voice barely above a whisper, "but there's something about you that I can't ignore."
And in that moment, with the world crumbling around them, Hero reached out, their fingertips grazing Villain's cheek. Villain leaned into the touch, their eyes fluttering closed as they surrendered to the irresistible pull of fate.
Suddenly, their lips met met the villain's in a desperate kiss, emotions surging between them – desire, longing, and a hint of defiance. In that stolen moment, Hero and Villain were no longer enemies, but two souls intertwined in a dance of forbidden passion.
But as they pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, Villain whispered words that shattered the fragile illusion of their connection.
"Perhaps in another life, we could have been more than enemies."
And with that, they disappeared into the night, leaving behind a trail of uncertainty and longing in their wake.
"Amid the chaos, find beauty in the unexpected."
Masterlist
#hero x villain#reading#writers on tumblr#short story#villain x hero#hero and villain#villainsxheroes#hero villain#villain#hero#enemies to lovers#forbidden love#writing snippet#snippet#writing#invalidstories#old writing
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#writeblr#polls#childhood writing#i say these things fondly as i was just a kid having fun with fiction#but#Im reading through these oldass notebooks right now and im rolling#old writing#old ocs#al chatters#this week has been so full of nostalgia omg
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Another Homestuck-on-the-meteor fic snippet I never finished, this time a chatfic centered on Davekat - specifically Karkat struggling with his quadrant and turning to Kanaya about it. Despite being about Davekat (only semi-directly) I think my favorite bits are all Kanaya's, lmao.
•••
-carcinoGenetecist began trolling grimAuxilliatrix-
CG: KANAYA.
GA: Yes?
CG: CAN I TALK TO YOU ABOUT SOMETHING?
CG: SOMETHING IMPORTANT?
GA: Well This Is Rather Unusual.
GA: I Don't Mind, But Are You Sure You Shouldn't Go To Your Moirail Instead?
CG: ACTUALLY...
CG: THATS JUST IT
CG: I CANT REALLY GO TO HIM ABOUT IT BECAUSE ITS
CG: KIND OF
CG: ABOUT HIM.
GA: I See.
GA: That Is A Conundrum.
GA: Very Well. My Auricular Sponges Are Open To What You Might Have To Say.
CG: SEE, THE THING IS
CG: I'VE BEEN THINKING LATELY AND
CG: I'M NOT SURE I WANT HIM TO BE MY MOIRAIL ANYMORE.
GA: Oh Dear.
GA: Well, Humans Aren't Exactly Well Versed In The Intricacies Of Quadrants.
GA: I Suppose An Inadequacy In Filling One They Aren't Familiar With Is Something Of An Inevitability.
CG: ER
CG: ACTUALLY, THAT WASN'T WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THAT.
CG: DON'T GET ME WRONG, HAVING A HUMAN TRY TO BE A SUCCESSFUL MOIRAIL WITHOUT BLURRING THE LINES IS AN ENORMOUS BULGE-BITING CHALLENGE
CG: BUT AS FAR AS HAVING ALIENS IN YOUR QUADRANTS GO, DAVE ISN'T... ACTUALLY THAT BAD OF A MOIRAIL ALL THINGS CONSIDERED?
CG: HE'S STILL HEAPS BETTER THAN GAMZEE IS, NOT THAT THAT'S SAYING MUCH.
GA: I See.
GA: Well, If It Isn't That Dave Is Being An Unsuccessful Moirail, As I Had First Presumed, Then What Is The Problem?
GA: Is It One Of Those "It's Not You, It's Me" Things That Your Favorite Movies Are So Fond Of Employing?
CG: KANAYA, FOR GOG'S SAKE DON'T MAKE ME SAY IT.
GA: Say What.
CG: THAT
CG: DAMMIT
CG: THAT I WANT HIM
CG: IN ANOTHER QUADRANT.
GA: Ah.
CG: DON'T "Ah" ME LIKE THAT
GA: Wouldn't Dream Of It.
GA: So?
CG: SO WHAT?
GA: Which Quadrant Do You Want Him In?
CG: WELL THAT'S
CG: KIND OF WHY I CAME TO YOU.
CG: I'M NOT SURE WHICH QUADRANT I WANT HIM IN.
CG: IF I'M COMPLETELY FUCKING HONEST, I'M NOT EVEN THAT SURE I WANT TO END OUR MOIRALLEGIANCE, EVEN IF FOR THE SAKE OF STARTING NEW IN ANOTHER QUADRANT.
GA: That Is A Real Problem.
GA: Have You Considered Seeking An Auspitice?
GA: Not That I'm Volunteering, Mind You.
CG: YES, KANAYA, I'M PERFECTLY AWARE YOU ARE VERY SELECTIVE IN WHO YOU'D AUSPITICIZE FOR, I DON'T NEED A REMINDER.
CG: AND WHILE I HAD CONSIDERED IT, ALSO CONSIDER:
CG: WHO THE FUCK *COULD* I GO TO??
CG: I CONSIDERED ASKING TEREZI, BUT... WELL, GIVEN HER HISTORY WITH BOTH OF US INDIVIDUALLY I HIGHLY DOUBT SHE'D WANT ANYWHERE NEAR US TOGETHER IN A QUADRANT
CG: I WOULDN'T TRUST VRISKA AS FAR AS I COULD THROW HER
CG: GAMZEE CAN'T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO SHOW HIS STUPID CLOWN FACE AROUND ANYONE BUT ME
CG: NOT THAT I'D TRUST HIM AS AN AUSPITICE EITHER
CG: WHICH LEAVES YOU AND ROSE WHICH
CG: YOU'VE ALREADY MADE YOUR STANCE CLEAR, AND ROSE AND DAVE WOULDN'T EVEN CONSIDER IT GIVEN THEIR WEIRD HANGUPS ON BLOOD TIES AND RELATIONSHIPS
CG: NO OFFENSE, BUT THAT'S HONESTLY A RELIEF BECAUSE I WOULDN'T WANT ANY HUMAN AS AN AUSPITICE NO MATTER HOW KNOWLEDGEABLE THEY ARE ON THE SUSBJECT. NOT EVEN ROSE.
CG: SO I HAVE FUCKALL IN THE AUSPITICE PAGEANT TO SELECT FROM WITH MY KEEN JUDGE EYE
CG: AND ON TOP OF ALL OF THAT THERE'S AN EVEN *BIGGER* PROBLEM.
CG: HOW THE BLISTERING BLUE HELL WOULD I EVEN BROACH THIS SUBJECT WITH DAVE???
CG: HE'S ALWAYS BEEN WEIRD ABOUT QUADRANTS.
CG: NEVER MIND I'M RELUCTANT TO ADMIT TO HIM THAT I'M VACILLATING IN THE FIRST PLACE...
GA: If You Don't Mind My Asking, Why Is That?
CG: Vacillation Is Perfectly Natural In A Quadrant Needing Auspiticizing.
CG: WELL
CG: I MEAN
CG: YEAH, I KNOW.
CG: BUT HE'S NOT EXACTLY FAMILIAR WITH THAT. I DON'T KNOW HOW HE'LL TAKE IT.
CG: HUMANS ONLY HAVE ONE 'QUADRANT', REMEMBER.
CG: WHAT IF THE MERE CONCEPT OF VACILLATION IS A DEALBREAKER FOR HIM?
CG: HELL, EVEN THE CONCEPT OF BEING MY MOIRAIL WAS ENOUGH TO SEND HIM OFF ON SOME BULGE-STROKING RAP TANTRUM ABOUT WHO KNOWS WHAT, I COULD BARELY EVEN LISTEN TO THE FIRST FIVE WORDS BEFORE TUNING IT OUT.
CG: IMAGINE MY COMPLETE AND UTTER SURPRISE WHEN HE ACTUALLY SAID HE’D THINK ABOUT IT.
CG: AND THEN *AGREED* TO IT.
CG: BUT HE STILL DOESN’T GET THE FINER CONCEPTS OF QUADRANTS AND IF *I* CAN BARELY RECOGNIZE WHEN I’M ABOUT TO VACILLATE THEN HOW UNDER THE BLISTERING SUN WOULD I BE ABLE TO EXPLAIN IT SO THAT EVEN A SHITTING WIGGLER CAN UNDERSTAND IT.
CG: BECAUSE YOU KNOW HE’S GOING TO GET LOST IF I EXPLAIN IT A LEVEL ABOVE THAT.
#homestuck#se7enfic#wip#fanfiction#karkat vantas#kanaya maryam#davekat#old writing#long post#I was tempted to color code it but I can only do Kanaya in the light green tumblr uses so. decided against that ndjvdivjdjcj#also from around 2020-2021
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HEYO LOSERS
I'm too lazy for a poll
SO
Who wants me to go through my 4-year-old TCOT very first very original drafts?
And also my stack of papers that's got stuff from like t0 different WIPs ranging from written last year to like 6 years ago?
WHO WANTS TO SEE MY OLD EMBARRASSING STUFFF???
(Reblog or comment if you do :])
Requirement is like 25 people? - and I'm going to @ everyong who helps
@oliolioxenfreewrites @friendfromdsmp @thepeculiarbird @corinneglass @phoenixradiant @sunflowerrosy @kia-is-poisoned @rivenantiqnerd @aestheic-writer18 @ryahisbored @nkikio @somethingclevermahogony @mjparkerwriting @sl-vega @darkandstormydolls @agirlandherquill @baconandeggs-25 @alnaperera @fantasy-things-and-such @ajgrey9647 @aalinaaaaaa @cybercelestian @danielleitloudernow @illarian-rambling @idunnobutliaiscool @jeremy-no @fandom-pits-dweller @katwritesshit @smudged-red-ink @sunnyjustice @thelazywitchphotographer @pastellbg @louudthoughts @bigwipscholar @killingthemoon84 @attemptingwriter @purplehandshumanfeelings @bluberimufim @artsandstoriesandstuff
#creative writing#fiction writing#writing community#writer things#writerscommunity#writers on tumblr#writeblr#writing#writers#writer#cringy stuff#ellia's rambling#notes#notes game#old writing#old stuff#cringe#writers and poets#writblur#writblr#writbelr#writbr
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the wall slam scene but 12 year old me's version
FUCK YOU @howmanyholesinswisscheese I SHOWED YOU MY OLD WRITING AND YOU SAID WALL SLAM SCENE AND RUINED THE WALL SLAM FOR ME FOREVER. SO HERE MAGGOTS I'LL RUIN IT FOR YOU, TOO.
THIS WAS THE FIRST PAGE OF A STORY I WROTE WHEN I WAS 12, SO, WELL, BACK IN 2016. DON'T ASK ME ABOUT THE NAME KING BAZA, IT STARTED OFF AS A BEDTIME STORY FOR MY BROTHER. THE OTHER NAMES ARE WORSE, BELIEVE ME. THE STORY IS A DUMPSTER FIRE. OH THE EXPOSITION THE INFODUMPING THE CLICHES IT'S--
THE HOMOEROTIC TENSION IS INSANE 12 YEAR OLD ME HAD NO IDEA--
YOU WANTED CURSED PROPHECIES FROM ME, THE PROPHET? TAKE CURSED PROPHECIES. WEEP, GOOD OMENS FANDOM, WEEP.
#good omens#good omens mascot#weirdly specific but ok#asmi#good omens fandom#I LOVE READING MY SHITTY OLD WRITING#BUT ALSO NOW THE POOR GOOD OMENS WALL SLAM IS TAINTED IN MY HEAD#WITH BLOODY KING BAZA AND HIS MINIONS#maggots#crowley#lgbtqia#aziraphale#neil gaiman#homoerotic#subtext do be subtexting#old writing#my writing#AS A TWELVE YEAR OLD PLEASE I SWEAR IM BETTER THAN THIS#wall slam#aziracrow#aziraphale x crowley#ineffable brainrot#ineffable husbands#ineffable idiots#good omens brainrot#ineffable fandom#good omens 1#gay
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Spontaneous
Image from 'Expiration Date' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GLlLQ3LmZWU * * *
Author's Note:
Upon searching for some inspiration when I was feeling down, I found this short piece of writing I made back in July of 2023, a year ago.
It isn't perfect, and it depicts a Scout who is perfectly capable of reading and writing (how uncanonical! Gah! Shame on you, past self). Yet, I feel like the message in it was something I... just needed to hear, especially now, when I feel as if I'm stuck in this creative rut of comparison and demotivation.
This little thing just spoke it perfectly and offered me a bit of happiness that makes me feel that, just maybe, not all is lost. I don't know how or why I wrote it, maybe for the same reasons I feel today, but I am really glad I did, and I wanted to share it with you.
I hope this little vignette helps and speaks to you as it has for me.
Happy reading.
* * *
Scout just needed to start.
He needed to start sometime, otherwise, when would he ever?
He closed his eyes, sighing. His fingers traced the contours of every key with hesitant eagerness, as if he were trying to mentally prepare for a big event. But he knew that this wasn't the case, and he knew that the longer he waited there trying to find the "ultimate source" of inspiration, the longer he would be left in the future doing nothing. He knew that if he let this moment of dutiful obligation to himself pass, he would just procrastinate once more in the future, and he would forever regret not having taken the chance while he still had it. So, here he was. In front of the screen, keyboard beneath his hands, and his eyes weary with sleep deprivation and sheer will.
He suppressed the urge to compare himself to his past work, or to other authors, or to use lazy methods such as paying someone else to do it for him, and just do it. He also suppressed his urges to reread every paragraph and word and just go with the flow, just as he did on the battlefield. No turning back, just live in the moment.
Spontaneous.
Yes, spontaneous. Scout was good at that, he did it practically every day. Making witty jokes with the boys? Spontaneous. Bashing mercenaries' brains out as fast as a speeding bullet? Spontaneous. Confessing to Miss Pauling? Well... that one, not so much.
But God, why was it so hard when it came to writing?
Scout felt helpless against what he was feeling, and he hated it. He hated it with every nerve of his body. But when his nerves felt as if they were going numb, and that his heart was rising out of his throat, the hate he felt was soon overpowered by... whatever this... this thing was. Was it his perfectionism? His inner feelings of inadequacy and self-criticality? His fear of things ending up like they always were in the end whenever he started a writing endeavor such as this: abandoned, left in the dust with all the other unfinished projects. All the other ones that were once filled with sparks of inspiration, then left to die out in the chilling breeze of procrastination, perfection and comparison.
Scout didn't want this one to end up like them.
He couldn't afford to lose something as precious as this. He had made a promise to himself to keep this one, no matter how long or outdated it may become in the future: he knew that he wanted this one to survive. Why? He didn't quite know why. Besides, it was like every other one that he ever had before. It all started off with that high of happiness and creativity, then sloped downwards into a spiral of neglect. But there was something different about this one that wasn't like the rest.
Perhaps it was his own inner improvements that he had made in his personal life that made him tougher than he was before. Maybe it was even just because he had found a character within it that he could personally relate to, at least to the physical and mindset extent.
But he just knew that when he made that promise to himself, he would keep it.
And he would let it burn on until the world was ablaze.
Scout smiled as he saw what he typed down in his conundrum. A way of catharsis or self-soothing, perhaps.
573 words? Not bad for a first shot.
Scout knew that it wasn't as much as he had initially hoped for, but he knew inside that in order to get anywhere, especially if he wanted to keep his ever-sacred promise to himself, he needed to congratulate himself for it.
Be proud of the milestones you hit, no matter how small or insignificant they may seem. And break those high standards you set to yourself; you have nothing to prove to anyone except yourself. And if you can prove to yourself that you are, in fact, capable of writing something, even if it is only half a thousand, it should be a clear sign that not all is hopeless and that it is never too late to achieve these goals you set for yourself.
And that they are not impossible... if you have FAITH.
Scout smiled and shut off the computer. He had a long day ahead on the battlefield, but he knew that he'd be off a little better knowing that he had something to look forward to when the day was done.
Mission complete.
#tf2#team fortress 2#rosain quivan's daily logs#tf2 scout#tf2 writing#writing#old writing#short story#expiration date#inspiration#scout tf2#scout#scout can read and write! ah! how uncanonical#will you be ever able to forgive me?#scout probably wouldnt lol cuz hes not a NERD#... he secretly is tho but dont tell anyone I said that
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April Fool's! Author April 2024 #1
I posted some of this on Patreon and it got some good feedback. But I wanted to share some stuff before I posted it. I found a file with a ton of old writing on it. If you were on Patreon in October you got to see some of this mess. For Author April I decided to share here so ya'll can see where I started. I've been writing since I was ten, but I started writing original works around the time I got out of high school. Anyways, this is Wild Adapter. It was from 2009.
I was barely 20.
This story is FIFTEEN years old. But anyways...
I found the old book cover I made for this story and I wanted to share despite how humiliatingly bad it is. I am already considering reworking it and making it a novel by rewriting, editiing and changing a lot. My bff even gave the news that she so loved a character from this story she considered naming one of her twins after them.
So like, maybe this is worth investing time and love back into, maybe it's worth revisiting my late teens early twenties and see if that idiot had something going I can finish. Let me know, would love to make this a journey to share next year!
Prologue
Fate leads the willing and drags along the unwilling. -Seneca
When I was little, my father took me to where he worked. He was a doctor for a special orphanage and some of his patients had been asking to see me. The entire time we were there, Dad never let go of me, and whenever he did he was so close beside me it was like he was my shadow. Dad had never been this protective of me before. At the park he let me run free as long as I stayed in his sight, but he never watched me like a hawk.
He showed me into a room that had four sets of bunk beds, and I found it odd considering the room was so small. Then there were six boys and two girls. The two girls clamored around me, held me, kissed me, cooed and giggled to me. The six boys watched me with curiosity. They were amazingly still and quiet, only whispering to one another for brief moments. They were watching me as if I were some sort of fascinating animal. It looked like they wanted to approach me but were afraid I’d run away from them if I did.
One boy managed to gather up the courage to approach. He broke away from the group and kneeled before me and the other two girls. He held his hand out and I grabbed onto it almost instinctively. I don’t remember much about him, or anyone else in that room, but I did remember the boy’s eyes as he watched me. I can’t remember the color, only that they fascinated me, dazzled me. I was little so I was able to comprehend a lot more about emotions and sensations than I do now. I can remember a great burst a joy as he looked down at me. His hand tightened over mine and he pulled me towards him. I heard Dad shout, but I felt no danger. I felt safe. The boy clutched me tightly in his arms. I heard the girls coo and muse sweetly. The boy held me tight and firm. I wasn’t sure, but I believe he was crying. I wanted to hold him. But my arms were too small.
Chapter One: The Empty House
I came home expecting the house to be completely empty. I could also see smoke rising from the chimneystack on father’s private lab where our backyard had once been. This meant I would have to make dinner then deliver it to him and watch him eat it to make sure he actually had something to eat that night.
Dad and I lived alone in a three story Victorian mansion painted mint green. The house itself was largely unfurnished due to that fact it was too big for the two of us. The house also had a screened in porch at the back and ivy growing all around it and up to the roof. It had been in my mother’s family for generations. Technically, according to family tradition, I was the heir of the house considering I was mother’s last living descendent. Dad and I joked about this. He said I could kick him out anytime and he could live alone in the lab. I said then I wouldn’t have to work and I could let my friends live in the house with a monthly rent. I would never do that though, even though Dad did practically live in the lab. The mansion was his home, our home. And we were the only things we truly had.
In back, where my swing set used to be, sat Dad’s private lab. I tried to keep it private for him, but every so often I went inside and became his lab assistant. To me it looked like the science lab of a high school, a well stocked high school lab at that.
During the seventies a garage with an apartment above it had been added back when my mom’s parents did use it as a boarding house. The apartment had been Mom’s room, keeping her away from all the hippies and beatniks her parents said. The garage apartment then became my brother Spencer’s when he turned ten. I hadn’t been inside it for over ten years. At least not since he and Mom died. In fact the garage itself became untouched save for storage. Dad and I parked out front then walked around to the back door and into the bright, yellow kitchen.
I was surprised though, that when I entered the house Dad was sitting at the table preparing the take out he had ordered from Lee’s Take Out Dragon of Fifth Street. We both stared at each other for a moment, as if we had no idea who the other person was. We then smiled awkwardly and went on with what we had been doing before.
I sat my school things in the closet and kicked my shoes off against my bag. I then wafted over to the dinner table and looked over the spread Dad had ordered. It was a rare occasion when Dad made dinner. It wasn’t that he was lazy or a bad parent, he just got wrapped up in his work easily. That, and he nearly burns down the house every time he attempts to cook.
He sometimes jokingly said that while working he would remember he had a daughter and come in to discover me five years older than he had last seen me. For me, I said he’d come in looking the same each and every time I saw him.
His hair would be shaggy, unkempt, and graying around the ears. His lab coat, uneven due to sloppy buttoning, yellowing at the cuffs and collar, and dingy from being worn without-end. His shoes untied, scuffed, and often times mismatched like his socks. His glasses smudged, lopsided, and duct taped to the point I had to force him to buy a new pair.
His face was unexplainably young and handsome for his age. Under his disheveled hair he had bright green eyes surrounded by long black lashes. He had a cute button nose and smooth cheeks with high cheekbones. He had dimples whenever he smiled and a round beauty mark at the corner of his lips. Despite his scruffy and unkempt appearance my father’s skin was always clean and unblemished furthering his youthful appearance.
I more than often thought my father was an ancient alchemist who had created a philosopher’s stone and was perpetually manufacturing an elixir that kept him from aging. If so, this answered a lot of questions about him. He was more knowledgeable than his age allowed and often spoke with outdated words and phrases. I also found myself hoping I had his good genes and was able to look that good at his age.
I looked up as Dad handed me a plate and fork. His dimples appearing in a shy, sheepish fashion in an attempt to get me to speak.
“You didn’t tell me you got a job.” He replied, sitting down in his chair.
“I‘ve had it for two months.” I answered, sitting at the opposite end of the table. Then for his benefit I quickly added on, “And it’s only part time so it doesn‘t affect my school work.” I smiled. “Not that I have much anyways.” I joked.
Dad’s eyes softened, making him look pitiful. “I still don’t like you working during the school year. Don’t I give you enough money?”
“You do, Dad.” I argued in attempts to get that sad look off his face. “But I need to get out of this depressing house once in a while. I need this job, Dad.”
“Are you sure?” He pressed.
“My school work is better than ever, considering I only have electives this semester.” I plopped a spring roll onto my plate. “Besides, I’m using the money you give me to start up a college fund.”
I could see a twinkling smile in his eyes. “Well that’s very smart of you, Mackenzie.” He was overly proud of me, especially during moments like these.
Dad was one of the only people who called me by my first name instead of a silly nickname. I had several. My friends called me Mac, Kenny, KZ, MC, and a number of other things. I suppose I had my darling friend Scout to thank for that. She had started the whole nickname craze back in fifth grade and ever since then I’m never, ever called by Mackenzie. Unless someone is angry of course.
“When do you go to work again?” Dad asked between bites of his fried rice.
“Um…tomorrow.” I answered.
Dad stopped shoveling fried rice and looked up at me in shock and awe. “But it’s Saturday.”
“I know.” I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. “But they need all the help they can get and I’m one of the few delivery people who actually work.” I grunted.
The place I worked at was a small collection of family owned business that, in recent years, had pulled together to form one industry that sold books, baked goods and other food, movies, games, appliances, and other such things. They called the place the Market. Not only that, they delivered, which was my job.
Also, I wasn‘t just working tomorrow because they needed me. I had a whole ulterior motive for wanting to work that day and working the one route everyone avoids on Saturday due to this very reason. Every Saturday a huge order of food, books, games, and everything and anything imaginable went out to a thought-to-be abandoned studio in the artist district downtown. And for the past month I had been working at the Market I had had to make a delivery to that building where I would be greeted by a voice through an intercom and two envelopes in the mailbox. One filled with the money to pay for the delivery and the other with a large tip for me. But it wasn’t the tip I was after.
The voice on the other end of the intercom was polite and nice, but I never learned his name, unlike with most people on my route, and I had never seen him. Since I already had an over active imagination it was going crazy at the prospects at what the intercom hid. I had already made up my mind to at least try and befriend the faceless voice, or at least learn his name.
Everyone at work had rumors about the place. There was one stipulating it was a crazy shut-in who was actually the second person on the grassy knoll, running since the assassination on JFK years and years ago. One was that it was what was left of Manson’s cult, in hiding until they receive word. Another, even more ridiculous idea was that it was a coven of vampires. Then again, a recent boom in the vampire craze had been going on so I chalked this up to the overactive imagination of fans.
While the first two could be considered plausible, although I doubted it, the voice sounded really young. And while I had never met the guy, he seemed sweet and nice, so I doubt he could be a killer at all. I could feel it in my gut that I was nowhere near harm standing there in front of his door.
The next day as I arrived at the Market I found one of my coworkers, and best friends, Dee Laughlin, sitting in the employee lounge sipping on a cup of hot tea. She looked up at me with her large hazel eyes and beamed.
“Good morning, Mac.” She greeted me cheerfully.
“Hey Dee.” I answered as I moved over to the snack machine to decide what to have for breakfast.
“Scout said she was going to be running late today.” Dee murmured, looking back briefly at her opened book before she shut it. “You know there’re same day old donuts and pastries in the bakery you can help yourself to.” She chose a job in the Market Bakery in order to loose weight. She said if she worked around the stuff long enough, she’d grow and aversion to it. Sure enough, she had, but in the process she had become addicted to the overly sweet coffees they also served.
“Nah.” I mused, placing a dollar bill into the machine. “I’m fine with this.”
“I just fixed some coffee too, so help yourself.” Dee mused as she looked dreamily back into her book.
“I don’t understand why you don’t just work in the bookstore instead of the bakery.” I chuckled, moving towards the coffee pot.
“I work in the bakery to have an aversion to pastries.” Dee laughed. “You know that. Besides, if I had a job in the bookstore, I’d never have any money. I have insurance and a car payments to think about.”
I nodded. “Well, what about Scout?” I asked as I poured my coffee into a yellow mug with a P on it. Scout loved the mug for this reason.
“Scout is a special case.” Dee muttered bitterly and snapped her book shut. “She rides her scooter everywhere she goes and with all the games and videos she buys she doesn’t have to go anywhere else.” She then watched me as I added creamer and sugar to my mug. “And what about you?”
I peered up from my brewing. “Me?”
“You’re Dad pays for everything and even gives you money for the week. Yet you’re working here.” Dee paused a moment to tie back her cropped, sandy hair into pigtails that jutted out from behind her ears.
“I work to get out of the house. I’m not like Scout in that department.” I breathed, taking a seat across from Dee at the table.
“And you deliver, the most brutal job to take! Why don’t you just stick to working in a specific station like Scout and I do?”
I told Dee everything. I enjoyed the deliveries and not having to stay in one place all day. I got to travel around and meet new people and see new places. I also got to drive, which I loved doing anyways. I got to drive in places, that during the right season, were straight from fairy tale lore. Doing the deliveries gave me a chance to escape the mundane life that had built up in the years of complacency I had gotten used to since the accident.
Dee nodded in approval. “To each his own.”
The door slammed open and a white blur whipped into the room followed by a cold gust and a bundled up Scout Theobald. After slamming the door back shut and shaking the freshly fallen snow from her shoulders, Scout peered out from between her hat and scarf with her big blue eyes.
“It just started snowing like crazy for no apparent reason out there!” Scout blurted as she unwrapped herself from her thick jacket and scarf. She hung them on the coat rack and readjusted her beloved cap. She wore that hat religiously and she wore it proudly. She had received the hat from her favorite band’s guitarist when, in a moment of extreme ripping, had tossed his head so hard that the hat flung out into the crowd and into Scout’s eager fingers.
“You’re early.” Was all Dee and I could think to say to her.
Scout’s already thick bottom lip pouted out even further, looking like a slice of apple, as she frowned at us. “I saw this snow start up and decided to be early than never, or, God forbid, buried in that mess.” She peered out the window before she grabbed up a coffee mug. “I ain’t ever seen it snow this hard before.”
Dee and I both stood up to peer out the window. “You didn’t come here on your scooter did you?” Dee gasped, looking over her shoulder at Scout in awe and horror.
Scout shrugged, more snow falling from her curly, amber colored hair. “What else could I do?” She took a deep sip of coffee.
“Take the bus.” I scoffed. “You could have gotten yourself killed in this weather!”
“It’s safer than a car.” Scout argued weakly but triumphantly. “The worst I could get is a cold.” She then laughed at the idea.
“Or pneumonia.” Dee snapped.
Dee and Scout had known each other longer than any two people should. They had grown up together, going through school in the same class since second grade. They had been together so long they could finish each other’s sentences. They sometimes even came into work wearing similar outfits. I was often jealous of how close they were. While I had met and befriended them in the fifth grade, at least seven years ago, I still felt like the third wheel. And even though they were my closest friends and confidants. I don’t think I have ever really had a best friend.
Scout pushed a stray hair out of her eyes then sat down at the table. “I never get sick.” She bragged proudly, putting on her Joan Crawford smug expression.
Dee and I sat down on the other end of her and decided not to argue with her. She had obviously survived the storm and like she said, she never got sick. She took a lot of personal days during the school year, but never once had she taken a day because of a cold or other illness.
“I’m glad I work in the bakery where it’s warm.” Dee breathed. “I know I’d probably die if I had to work in that weather.” Her and Scout then both glanced over at me. “Sorry Mac.”
“Sorry for what?” I asked. “They’ll probably make me work stock or cover a shift in a section today.” I turned back to the window. “There’s no way in hell they’re going to make us do deliveries today.” I turned back to my coffee and was struck by the realization of what I had just said. I wouldn’t be able to go to the studio today and try to make contact with whatever it was living behind those walls. I bit my lip and sighed disappointedly.
“Or they’ll just let you go home.” Scout grinned. “Or, you could take over my shift and I can go home.” If I had a younger sibling, I’d want them to be like Scout.
“Don’t be such a lazy mooch, Scout.” Dee scolded. “Although, it does sound tempting.” She sighed dreamily. “A hot cup of herbal tea, a good book, and the fire place. Oh, and my favorite tunes playing full blast in my new surround sound system. Sounds heavenly.” She cooed. “In more ways than one.” If I had an older sister, I’d want her to be like Dee.
“To you.” Scout sneered. “For me it’s a customized, wireless controller, bags of chips, cold sodas, the newest Slayers game, and a warm TV screen.” She took a deep sip of her coffee and added quickly. “All nestled snuggly in my bed and wrapped in several blankets.”
“Of course.” Dee snickered, wrinkling her nose. “If you had an opportunity like that, you’d never leave your home.” She glanced up at me and smiled. “What about you? What’s your dream wintry day in?”
“Well…” I thought for a moment. “I’d snuggle up on the couch with my favorite old blanket, pop in an old classic movie, then relax with a warm bowel of popcorn in my lap, a bag of chocolate chips at my right, and one of those huge jugs of chocolate milk on the floor.” I smiled dreamily at this thought. It had been a long time since I had a movie day.
Dee chuckled. “Classic literature, classic films, and…” She stared blankly at Scout. “Classic brain rotting.”
“Don’t dis it till you try it.” Scout swayed side to side, wagging her finger. She then glanced up at the clock. “Uh oh!” She finished off her coffee and jumped to her feet and strutted to the door. “Time to open shop.” She announced happily.
“You seem exuberant.” Dee mused.
Scout grinned goofily. “Of course! Today’s the release date of the new Vampire Hunter X game!” She gripped her fists close to her cheeks. “Innocent Blood the Second Dawning! I will literally be the first person to get their hands on it.”
“You enjoy that.” Dee sighed, patting Scout’s head as she left the lounge.
Scout turned to me before she left. “What’re you gonna do?”
“I’ll check my route and see what needs to be done. If there is anything serious I’ll get that done with. If not, I’ll tack it onto Monday’s shift.”
Scout nodded in agreement. “Just be real careful, Mac. If anything happened to you out there…”
I smiled softly. “Thanks Scout. I’ll be safe. Promise.”
Scout gave me another reassuring smile. “Alrighty then! Come see me anytime you want. We’ll lunch.” She then bounded out of the employee lounge and down the hall to her section of the Market.
I made my way slowly down to the delivery room. As I suspected, no one was there. All the other delivery boys must have seen the snow and said to heck with it all. I lifted up the delivery roster for my route. Sure enough, the studio’s order was on there. I checked the delivery number and found the box. There was a post-it on the front that told me to get the new game Scout had been rambling about earlier.
I’d get the game then head out to make the delivery then head home for a much needed movie date. I’d even make quick lunch plans with Scout.
I took the box with me to the gaming section of the market. Scout was surprised to see me after such a small break from one another and she happily got me the game. We made plans for lunch at noon, if weather permitted, at Dee’s bakery so we could get a discount.
I went out into the snow and wind, barely making it to my delivery car unfrozen. I was also surprised at how clear the roads were. They had probably salted them early that morning while Dee, Scout, and I had been talking.
I slowly made my way to the artist district, leery of black ice. The sky around the many studios and galleries was a dark gray from smoke billowing chimneystacks. It reminded me of a scene in an old movie depicting a very primal, coming-of-age city.
I parked out front of the old studio. As I approached the front steps, I noticed there was no smoke coming from the chimney. Perhaps the person who lived here was rich, considering how much he spent each week at the Market.
I pressed the buzzer and waited.
“Hello?”
I licked my lips and took a quick breath. “The Market Delivery. Mackenzie Bronwyn delivering.”
“Oh wow! You actually came!” He laughed. “Aw gee…I didn’t think you would be coming. Um…I didn’t put the money in the mailbox. Uh…” He stalled for a moment and I thought I heard people arguing and running around in the background.
“Uh, hold on one moment. The door is unlocked. You can come in and warm up while we get your money together.” There was a loud, stunning buzzing noise and a loud click. The doorknob turned ever so slightly.
I was so surprised I was actually frozen. Forgive the pun.
“Y-yeah. Thank you.” I turned my attention to the steely, icy doorknob. I swallowed hard and reached for it. Ice shattered as I turned the knob and pushed myself in. The door groaned lowly, like someone disappointed.
I stepped inside the large entrance hall, it was dark, but cozy and warm. I closed the door behind me and stood in the darkness. I dumped the box off the handcart and noticed I was breathing loudly. It was better than I expected. Not only did I get to have a few words with him, I was inside the studio. And from the sounds over the intercom, he wasn’t alone.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could notice some of the details in the hallway.
To my left I was a little surprised to see a shattered mirror. I bit my lip and turned away from it. I wasn’t sure to take it as a sign or as a piece of modern artwork. I decided to pay more attention to the right side of the hallway, which was a large white wall covered with crayon drawings and other random artistic scribbles. Certain sections were dated and signed even. I leaned closer and ran my hand over it, barely making out the signature of Dakota.
There were three other distinct signatures on the wall but I couldn’t make out the names in the dim light. I ran my fingers across the indention of one name, trying to decipher it.
“Here’s your money.”
I gasped, jumping at the sound of his voice. I gasped and caught my breath. “Gee! You scared me.” I chuckled, scanning the darkness to try and find where the voice had come from.
“So sorry.” He laughed. “Um, here.” Two white envelopes came out of the darkness towards me. Beyond them I saw a pale, moonlight hand and arm. “You can leave the box there if you wish.”
I knelt forward and plucked the envelopes from his fingers. As soon as I did, the moonlight pale hand vanished. I studied the envelopes quietly then looked back up into the darkness. I heard something shifting as if impatient for me to leave. I opened up one of the envelopes to make sure the balance was correct.
“Just get out of here!” A voice I didn’t recognize roared out at me.
I jumped and dropped the handcart. I rushed to pick it back up and once I had a grip on it I ran back out into the white snow. I stood there at the door, wondering what had made me move so fast. I pressed my palm against my face and ran my fingers limply through my hair. I barely glanced over my shoulder at the door, afraid I might see someone or something standing there.
The intercom buzzed and I jumped again. Clutching my heart I quietly answered.
“Yes?” I gasped.
“Sorry about that.” The familiar voice said. “He’s, uh, unfriendly.”
That barely answered one of my questions. There was more than one person living in the old studio. I turned to face the intercom, unsure if I should say anything to the familiar voice beyond the door. I furrowed my brow.
“It’s okay. I was intruding.” I answered meekly. “Thank you for your continued business.” I waved, even though I knew they probably couldn’t see me.
I quietly turned back to my snow covered car. And as I drove home I began to wonder more and more about the people living within the studio. Hidden away from the public eye in a giant safe. Were they a family? Friends? How many were living there? Why were they living there? All the possibilities built up around me like walls, forbidding me to think about anything else.
Chapter Two: Like a Dream
The snowstorm didn’t stop until late Sunday night. And even then the snow stayed piled up until next Saturday due to continuous light flurries and snowfalls that occurred throughout the week.
The snow was thick everywhere, except on the roads and where people had shoveled it away, But where it still stood, like on our lawn, when you stood on it, you could detect three distinct layers. The top layer was soft and powdery, the fresh snow. The second layer was the kind of snow you’d want to use to build snowmen, for snowballs, and typical winter fun. Then, the bottom layer was thickly packed ice that probably wouldn’t disappear until spring, or, if you used a jackhammer on it.
Other than that it was safe to drive on the roads because they salted it constantly. School had only been canceled three days that week and I had to work double duty in the Market. I did my deliveries then worked in whatever section of the store that needed my help. A lot of people took any excuse to be able to take off work, especially during such heavy, snowy weather.
On Saturday it had finally gotten back to a place of normalcy where I was back to being just a delivery girl. I received my delivery roster for my route and our supervisor told us that once we finished our routes we could head on home. He said his knees were hurting him and that meant another snowstorm.
I didn’t trust his knees, but I did trust the clouds enveloped sky and the way the clouds shaped together like a package of frozen cotton swabs. And it was also as if I could smell the bad weather coming on. In a way, it was the same as the day of the accident, something just didn’t feel right.
After examining my roster and the clouds I jumped into my car loaded with packages. There was an especially huge package that took up half my back seat that was headed for the studio. It was their largest one thus far.
I delivered all the other packages first then ended my route with the artist district and the old studio. I had to pull out my trolley cart to lift the giant box. It felt like one of the boxes in Dee’s room filled to the gills with thick books.
I left the handcart at the foot of the stairs and walked up to the intercom. I pressed the buzzer and waited a moment. There was no answer. I stared puzzled at the mesh screen of the intercom and pressed the buzzer again.
Still no answer.
I decided to examine the mailbox. Perhaps they had left me a note along with the payment. I pulled out the envelopes, but no note. I pressed the buzzer again. Still there was no one to answer me.
I pulled my scarf tighter around my jaw and neck as a cold breeze floated around me. I waited for a few more minuets then descended down the stairs and went to try and heft the box onto the stoop.
It was times like these I wished Scout was around. She possessed an amazing upper body strength. I had often heard her bragging that she could lift a little over twice her body weight.
As I managed to figure out a way to balance the huge box in my arms I felt a presence around me. I glanced up to see three rough looking guys standing around me. I gave them a cordial smile then went back to work, hoping they either go away or ask to help.
I wasn’t so lucky.
One of them grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. I was able to keep myself from being pulled into their crowd by pushing against the heavy box. With a hard kick I was able to make the box flip over and disorient the gang if only for a moment.
I ran, dashing into the alley between the studio and the tenement building beside it. I heard them chasing after me so I ran faster. I pushed myself out of the small wedge between the buildings and popped out in the back yard of the studio.
The small yard was littered with rusted exercise equipment, several bent and destroyed trashcans, and stacks and stacks of folded up cardboard boxes from the Market. I heard the gang behind me and I raced forward, praying someone inside would also hear them and come out to see what the noise was about.
The ground stopped suddenly, crumbling into a huge ravine where the sewer line ran for the artist district. I looked this way and that. I stared up at the windows of the studio. All the windows were closed and covered. I ran up to the backdoor and started poudning on it and screaming
“Let me in! Let me in! Please! Someone! Help me!” There was no sound from inside, no sign of life at all. I cursed and raced for the chain link fence separating the properties. Just as I was making way over the top I was pulled back down onto the icy ground. I foot came down against my temple and for a moment everything was black.
Just as they were forcing me deeper into the snow I heard one of them scream and I slowly came back to my senses. Their release on me became looser until none of their hands were even on me. I sat up from the snow to see a black shadow bashing one of the thugs across the head with what looked like a rusted free-weight bar. I winced, relieved someone came to my rescue, but afraid I had only gotten rescued by an even more dangerous animal.
The shadow kicked at a downed thug then turned to stare at me through the visor of his helmet. He was dressed from head to foot in black leather, every inch of his skin hidden away under a thick skin of shining black. He had large shoulders and a muscular chest. His arms were twice the size of mine and I could see the ripples from the muscles even under the leather. His hands were big but thin with long fingers, his right hand still clutching onto the rusted bar. His waist was slender and he had long, muscular legs.
He walked towards me and pulled me out of the snow by my shoulders. His head bobbed up and down, inspecting me.
“You okay?” He asked gruffly.
I felt like crying but something held me back. “Y-yeah.” I sputtered. I had half expected it to be the voice over the intercom. But I was wrong and disappointed and I suddenly started crying.
“Tha-thank you so much!” I balled.
His hand came down on top of my head and ruffled my hair. “Stop crying.” He huffed, sounding a little impatient. “You’re bleeding so you better get home.” He wiped a little blood away from my temple then rubbed his thumb against his pants.
I rubbed my eyes. “Bu-but…”
“Hurry up and get home.” He pointed in the direction of the alley. “Ya hear me?” He half threatened me with the bar. “Get!” He shoved me forward with his hand then prodded my back with the bar.
I wanted to turn around and thank him again, but I was too frazzled to even breathe. Only until I had gotten in my car and lost sight of the studio did I breathe again. I pulled my car over to stop and compose myself. As I did so I saw a red motorcycle fly by with a man covered in leather riding on the back. I was so relieved I smiled. Although, I had never expected my guardian angel to be a leather clad biker.
When I got home, hoping I could take care of the cut on my head before Dad saw, I was horrified to see Dad standing in the kitchen making coffee. He was smiling when I came in but that faded away with an instant and he magically produced the first aid kit and was rushing me to sit at the table.
“My God, Mackenzie! What happened to you?” He tied my wavy black hair back for me in a ponytail, then poured some rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab.
What could I tell him? I had to think up a believable story fast.
“I was making a delivery and slipped on some ice.” I laughed.
He wiped the swab over the cut and I hissed. Nothing stung like that. “Oh my poor girl.” He whispered, then putting some disinfectant on it. “Did anyone help you?”
I smiled. “Yeah. Someone helped me.”
“That’s good.” Dad then put some Neosporin on the cut and a little band-aid. “Where did you fall at?” He asked, putting the kit away.
“Um…the artist district, in front of the old studio.”
Dad furrowed his brow and looked at me as if he wanted to ask me something then he went back to placing the first-air kit back in the cabinet above the stove.
“Well I’m just glad you’re safe.” He kissed me on the forehead. “Please be more careful next time. Okay?”
I nodded. “Okay, Dad.” I then smiled reassuringly for his benefit.
“Oh!” I then quickly changed subject. “Would it be okay if I spent the night with Scout and Dee tomorrow?”
“That’s fine with me. But you girls be careful in this weather, okay?”
The next day, Sunday, I went back to the studio. I carried with me a gift of thanks for the man clad in leather, hoping he was a tenant at the studio. As I had made my way to the studio a thick snowstorm had blown up and by the time I had gotten there, I couldn’t see barely five feet ahead of me. Everything thing was white and swirling like a snow globe with too much glitter inside.
I raced through the snow, pressing against the wind as if it were a wall and finally I came up on the stoop where I was a little safer from the icy elements, but just barely. I pressed the buzzer, praying they would answer inside.
“Hello?” The voice sounded quizzical.
“Hi, it’s me.” I rasped. “Mackenzie. Mackenzie Bronwyn” I blurted. “Listen I hate to bother you but I came by with a gift for the guy who saved me yesterday.”
I was equally surprised to hear him blurt back at me. “What are you doing out here? You could have gotten yourself killed in this weather. Yes! Come on! Come in!” He sounded both angry yet concerned for me. The door made the loud buzzing and it was kicked open from inside.
As I walked back into the warm hallway I heard an angry wind howling out behind me and slam the door against my back. I squeezed the gift close to my chest and held in my scream. My eyes locked on the broken mirror, many eyes looked back at me.
I waited for what seemed like hours there in the entranceway for someone to great me. Finally I heard someone approach then stop suddenly beyond the line of darkness.
“Are you warm enough?” He struck a match and lit and candle. In the glow of it I just barely made out his soft features. He was young, a little older than me but still young. He had soft, white skin and dark hair.
“Yes, thank you.” I looked down at my gift and held it out at arms length. “I don’t know if he lives here or not but I just wanted to thank the guy who saved me yesterday.”
“That’s very kind of you.” He breathed softly. “Um…listen, Mackenzie…” His voice cracked. “Our power is out, and, um, I don’t know when it’ll it come back on. I’ll give you some matches and candles if you want them.
“If I have to I suppose…” I held my arms back to my chest. “Is the snowstorm that bad?”
“Something like that.” He murmured. “I made up a room for you that you can stay in until the storm clears up. Is that alright?”
I felt oddly at home yet unwelcome at the same time. “That’s very nice of you. Thank you.” I swallowed. “I’m sorry I intruded like this. I never expected to the weather to get this bad this quickly.”
“It’s alright just come this-”
“No way!” Another voice blurted. “She can’t stay here. You!” The new and angry voice roared at me. “You need to go!” I barely made him out in the candlelight. His brow was heavy and creased, his face covered with stubble.
“Dude! Don’t be so cruel.” The first voice snapped. “It isn’t safe out there for her to drive.”
“Well we can’t keep her here.” The second voice sneered.
“You don’t have to worry about her.” The first voice whispered. They probably thought I couldn’t hear them. But ever since I was a little child, I could always hear the faintest of noises. I was rather proud of my unnatural hearing ability.
Well, right now I felt rather uneasy over hearing this odd conversation. I was an outsider who could possibly be in on a deep secret the tenants of this old studio hadn’t let out to anyone except themselves. I swallowed hard. I wanted to leave then and there to stop their fighting. But outside the wind was getting louder and louder, and the sound of ice beating against the door was growing from faint, tiny tinks to the sound of loud knocking.
Finally, the second voice roared. “Fine! But don’t come crying to me when she sees you and goes running away screaming!” He stormed off and I heard a door slam and something shatter.
“Um…Mackenzie?” The first voice murmured. “Can you see well enough in this light? Or would you like the candle?”
“Yeah, I can see fine. I don‘t need the candle” I gulped. “I hope I’m not intruding or anything.”
“Not at all.” He laughed softly. “My name is Vegas.” I heard his hand slide across the wall. “You know. It’s funny really. Ever since you became our delivery girl I had this feeling about you.”
“Excuse me?” His words made my insides jump. I suddenly felt scared.
“Well, you know how you sometimes have this sixth sense about a person who one day winds up being your closest friend?” Vegas asked. “That’s kind of what I meant. Sorry if I scared you.”
“Oh.” I chuckled meekly. “Sure, sure.” I didn’t have the guts to tell him that I felt the very same way.
I heard a door click open and a ray of grayish light poured into the hallway. I also had a feeling that Vegas was hiding himself behind the door.
“Here you go.” He handed me the candle. “If you need anything use the intercom and call for me.” He said as I stepped into the room. “I’ll bring you lunch later.”
I suddenly remembered my thank you gift and held it out towards the shadows of the hall. “You take it.” I instructed. “You’re being much to kind to me.” I then quickly tacked on, “Its pie. I made it, so I can’t say if its good or not.”
I heard the paper bag rustle as he opened it up. “What flavor is it?”
I beamed and wanted to go back out into the hallway. “Apple. I learned how to make them when I did a temp job in the bakery at the Market a few weeks ago. I hope you like it.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Vegas chuckled.
I smiled and turned into the dimly lit room, closing the door behind me. Hoping for a miracle, I felt along the wall for a light switch. A single skylight flickered on, but it was so weak it was barely better than the glow of the candlelight. I opened the curtains to my window and stared out at the snowstorm. Everything was white, but at least it allowed more light into the room.
I stared around, only now noticing that all four walls were made up of shelves filled with books, comics, movies, and magazines. I had never seen such a massive collection in person before. All I could do was standing there and stare around.
I then got the courage to actually touch something. I pulled a book from the shelf and flipped it open. I then looked to the pile of blankets and pillows sitting by the door and laid them out on the rug in the middle of the room.
I then picked me out a stack of books and magazines and curled myself down to read. But all I could do for the longest time was stare off into space and daydream. I was inside the studio, and I couldn’t have been more breath taken. But at the same time I trapped there, almost a prisoner. In a way, I was like a prisoner in a tower. Like Beauty from Beauty and the Beast, my favorite story and fairy tale.
Chapter Three: Life on Mars?
I had fallen asleep while reading, a common side effect for me. Although I was no longer on the big rug in the center of the floor, but lounged up comfortably on the large couch resting under the canopy of a bookshelf. I pushed the thick blanket off the top of me and stared at the clock sitting on the table beside me. It was a little passed five.
I figured Dad wasn’t worried, since I lied and told him I was spending the night at Scout’s house. More than likely he was holed up in his lab and unable to get out because of the storm. I then remembered Vegas and I saw the covered dish sitting on the table right beside the alarm clock. That explained how I ended up on the couch and it made me feel embarrassed but also impressed and flattered. Vegas was either a great gentleman or an even greater pretender.
It was then to my great dismay that I needed to use the bathroom. I had no idea where to begin. So when I blindly made my way out into the hallway I simply prayed for the best. I feel into a long, narrow hallway, but it creped me out so bad I didn’t try to find the door at the end. After a few more minuets of searching I suddenly stumbled into an open door and crashed onto the floor.
“Mackenzie?” Vegas gasped.
“Oh! So sorry.” I grunted as I lifted myself off of the carpet. “I was just…” I held my head. “The bathroom.” I muttered just above barely audible.
Vegas helped lift me up and placed me in a chair. “You okay?” He quickly stepped away from me and back into the shadows.
“Disoriented.” I managed to laugh. “Sorry again for falling into your room like that.” I tried to make out his silhouette in the dark in vain.
“It’s okay. I’m kind of glad you showed up.” I heard him stand up and walk back towards his door. “I had a talk with my brothers and we felt like you shouldn’t be kept in the dark like this.” The way he said you bothered me a little. It was like I was supposed to be in on the secret yet had no idea about it.
“But you said your power was out.” I chuckled nervously.
Vegas laughed softly. “If only it were that simple.” He took a deep breath. “I do hope you have an open mind about things.” He spoke softly and I could hear him moving about in the darkness. “I also pray you don’t scare easy. Here, take my hand.”
I reached up blindly in the darkness, finally touching something solid and warm. But it wasn’t what I was expecting. The palm of his hand was rough, like the calloused heel of a foot. The back of his hand was soft and furry and reminded me of Dee’s old Labrador. I looked up, trying to follow his arm and figure out this strange puzzle.
“Do I have your hand?” I asked, confused.
He half laughed, half sighed. “Yes. You have it.” He said as he helped me ease back up to my feet.
There was a click and fluorescent lights blinded me. I stared between my fingers at the oddly shaped figure standing a few feet before me at his open door.
“I am truly sorry if this bothers you.” Vegas murmured.
As my eyes became accustomed to the light I slowly became aware of the figure standing before me. I noticed that his outline was odd, rather shaggy. I rubbed my eyes, hoping the blur would take a much finer shape.
I became aware of pointed ears, jutting out from where ears normally were but to a length that they surpassed the head like an animal’s. And the shagginess didn’t stop at the head, it was as if his entire body was covered with thick, dark fur. But how could that be? When I saw him in the glow of the candlelight he had a milky white complexion and hair like a sheet if black satin.
I first stared down at the hand I was holding. The rough palm, in fact, looked like the underside of a dog’s paw. And while shaped like any normal hand, it looked like I was holding some Halloween glove for a Wolfman costume. My eyes trailed up the arm, growing wider the further up I stared. There I was, standing before a man-animal. At first, I thought of a werewolf. But the more I looked at him I didn‘t see a horror movie monster. His green eyes were certainly human, more human than even my own. But he was definitely not human. I recoiled and took several steps away. I wasn’t afraid, but I was shocked. His hand hung suspended in midair.
“Sorry. Again.” Vegas whispered, his hand falling back to his side. “If you don’t like it. We can all leave you be until the storm is over and you can leave.”
I suddenly found myself touching his outstretched arm. My hands worked up the shaggy black fur of his arm and onto his face, both my hands pinching his cheeks.
“Am I dreaming?” I muttered breathlessly.
“I believe you pinch yourself when you feel that way.” Vegas chuckled, a little surprised at my reaction.
I pulled my hands back. “Oops!”
Vegas rubbed his face where I had pinched him. “Quite alright.”
“How did this happen to you?” I asked, reaching out again and brushing my fingers through his shaggy, shiny mane. “How come you…“ I hesitated, trying not to think along the lines of horror movies. “Are you circus freaks?” My voice squeaked.
Vegas shook his head glumly. “I wish it were that simple, Mackenzie. But I’m afraid our tale is a bit more complicated.” He shrugged.
“How many more of you are there?” I asked, following Vegas down the now brightened hallway.
Vegas opened a door for me. “Didn’t you need to use the restroom?”
“Um…” I glanced over at him and blushed. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
“I’ll wait out here for you.” He said, turning his head away as I walked into the bathroom. I hurried myself as much as I could, but as I sat there I couldn’t help but feel I recognized Vegas from somewhere. His form, his shape, his eyes all seemed familiar to me.
I then went back out into the hallway and looked up at him, standing like a guard on the left side of the door. “I’m good now.”
He nodded and waved his hand for me to follow.
“So?” I asked again. “How many?”
“Four. My four brothers and me. You kinda met Lexington.” He spoke about the second, much angrier, voice in the hallway last night. “Sorry about him.”
“No need to apologize.” I examined Vegas closer. I now noticed that he wore some straight leg blue jeans and a red vintage tee shirt bearing a classic band’s logo on the front. “I can see why he was…hesitant.”
“Hesitant is a soft word to use for his actions.” Vegas breathed. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the family. You woke up in time for dinner.” He hesitated and glanced over my expression. “Only if you want to.”
“I think I owe it to you.” I said brightly. “I’ve seen you, I might as well see the rest of the family secret. After all…” I took a deep breath. “You were brave enough to reveal this to me.”
Vegas smiled. “I knew I was right about you.”
I couldn’t help but smile back.
It was funny how his face worked. While being wolf like in every sense, he had a very human face, especially around the eyes. His eyes were the deepest forest green, like my mother’s and brother’s eyes had been.
He then had a cute little muzzle, not exactly as long as a wolf’s but enough to protrude from his face. If he were bigger and hulked over, he would be exactly as I pictured the Beast from my favorite fairy tale. That’s where I recognized him!
It was then I also noticed his body shape. I suppose it was because I wanted to figure out who the leather-clad biker had been. But Vegas didn’t fit the bill. He had small shoulders and lean, but muscular, arms. He also had a thicker waist and longer legs. I was slightly disappointed.
Vegas glanced over his shoulder at me. “You’re quiet back there.”
“S-sorry! Just lost in thought.” I caught up to Vegas so I walked beside him. I could feel the fur on his arm against my own. Vegas was also quite tall and my head barely cleared his shoulder blade.
Vegas then pushed open a door and allowed me to step in first. The room became intensely quiet. I stared up at two more wolf-like boys. They were sitting at a bar on high stools. One had his back turned toward me and the other was staring wide eyed and worriedly at me.
“Guys, this is Mackenzie.” Vegas patted my back. “She’s going to be staying with us for a while.” He said cheerfully as we walked into the dining room.
I felt suddenly at ease. I raised up my hand and scrunched my fingers down in my cute, signature wave. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”
The one who had been staring at me was now grinning and leaping over the bar to greet me. “She likes us!” He was small, about my height, and extremely skinny. Unlike Vegas, he was a reddish brown with a white face, paws, stomach, and feet. He wore a black shirt with a video game logo on it and extremely baggy pajama pants. His tail wagged happily as he ran up to me and his bright hazel eyes sparkled.
“Delivery girl!” He reached his hand out and I took it in my instinctively, suddenly feeling nostalgic in doing so. “I’m so glad to finally meet ya in person!” His thin arms then wrapped around me and squeezed me tightly. He smelled like chocolate and his fur was so soft. He then pulled away and gave me a big, toothy grin. “I’m Dakota by the way. I guess I should introduce myself before I go around hugging people.” He laughed.
“Make that a note next time you go out.” I chuckled with him, feeling extremely welcomed by the cub of the pack.
I then glanced up over Dakota’s shoulder to see the third wolf approach. He was slightly taller than me, the top of my head could easily reach the bottom of his chin. He was a peppered gray with a white muzzle, a black paw and a white paw, then both feet were black. He wore glasses before his narrow, sky blue eyes. His mane was thicker around his face than Dakota’s and Vegas’. His hands were also larger even though he had about as skinny arms as Dakota. He had a shapely rear though and well toned legs. I also noticed he wore a button up blue polo shirt and tan cargo pants with bulging pockets.
He smiled politely and held his white paw out to me. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m Raleigh.”
I managed to pull my hands away from the gleeful Dakota to shake Raleigh’s thick hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for having me.”
“We should be thanking you.” Raleigh smiled at me with a wise glint in his eyes.
“Yeah! You bring us our supplies every week. I don’t know what I’d do with out my weekly game dosage.” Dakota cheered. “Doc was right about the Market.”
“Doc?” I was about to question but Vegas cut in.
“Yeah, before the Market we used to have to order from fifty other places and the shipping was eating up all our monthly funds.” Vegas then cut a glare at Dakota who had latched hold on my hand again. “Especially those video games and anime cartoons you love so much.”
Dakota shrunk back behind me. “I know, I know.” He sighed pathetically. “Crack would be a cheaper addiction, but my body is a sacred temple.”
“So you’re the gamer.” I asked as I joined them at the bar. “My best friend Scout works in the entertainment section of the Market and she’s a huge gamer as well. Every game I’ve delivered to you she’s gotten herself.”
Dakota’s already bright eyes got even brighter and wider. “Really?” He squirmed in his seat. “I just got the new Vampire Hunter X game and I’m almost half way through.”
“I don’t get what’s so great about video games.” Raleigh sighed. “I keep telling him he can get just as much fun and excitement if head read something other than strategy guides and comic books.”
I knew who always ordered the books. “So then I take it you’re the one who orders the brunt of most of the heavy novels that have been breaking my back.” I chuckled, thinking to the previous package and how I needed the special dolly to deliver it. “The real intelligent gent?”
Raleigh sighed and took off his glasses. “Someone has to be.” He had a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. “I guess I need to apologize for that as well. I suppose I could order the paperbacks and be a little more gentler on you. But the hardbacks just last so much longer.”
There was a familiar buzzing that rang out through the house and the boys lifted their heads in anticipation. Vegas stood up from the bar.
“That’s probably the pizza.” He said. “I’ll be right back.” As he walked towards the door he stopped at the door and scanned the sheet of pockets that hung there and plucked what looked like a checkbook from one of the many pockets.
“Are the roads clear?” I asked.
“Not really.” Dakota hummed. “But we have connections. We get whatever we want whenever we want it.” He said, grinning proudly.
“Don’t worry, Mac, we aren’t holding you here against your will. You can go whenever you want.” Raleigh said in a very serious tone. “But I wouldn’t recommended it right now.”
I smiled and shook my head. “I wasn’t thinking that. It was just surprising to me that pizza would actually deliver in ice age weather.”
Raleigh cleared his throat then removed his glasses and rubbed at the lenses with the hem of his shirt. “Oh, um, well, I was just letting you know.”
“Yeah!” Dakota chimed. “Mac probably doesn’t even wanna leave.” He grinned over at me. “Right?”
In all honesty, I did want to go home. I was really worried about Dad. But I couldn‘t tell that to Dakota, it‘d probably break his heart. “Probably not for a while.”
“Here’s the grub.” Vegas said, hauling in six pizzas, three boxes of breadsticks, and two dessert pizzas.
I stared in awe at the massive amount of pizza. “Do you always eat all this?” I gasped, staring at Dakota for the answer.
“Naw!” Dakota laughed. “We got this one for you.” He placed a whole pizza in front of me.
“I can’t eat all that.” I murmured apologetically, staring at the box.
“Really?” Dakota stared at me in disbelief. “I guess you were right Raleigh. Women really are more delicate.”
Raleigh tensed up and I’m sure if the fur wasn’t covering his cheeks they’d be bright red. “Dakota, just shut up.” He huffed and hid himself behind his box of pizza.
I smiled meekly. “Thank you very much for this. I really do appreciate the thought. You can have what I don’t eat.”
Dakota grinned another toothy grin, cheese stringing down from his jowls to the slice in his hand. “Okay!”
“What about Lex?” Raleigh asked.
“If he wants to eat he can join us.” Vegas growled.
I furrowed my brow and sat down the piece of pizza I had been chewing on. “Am I causing some sort of trouble I should know about?”
“Huh?” Raleigh gasped. “Oh no, you’re fine. It’s our other brother, Lexington. He’s being a complete jerk as usual.”
“The correct term is ass hole.” Dakota said between bites.
Vegas leered harshly down at his pizza. “He’s the one being a problem. He says that he doesn’t want you here. He wants us to make to make you leave.”
“Does he know I’m not bothered?” I asked. “I think you’re all fine! When you said all those things earlier, Vegas, I thought the worst. Like you were a coven of famous serial killers or something.”
All three of them snickered and Dakota went into a fit of high-pitched giggles. He had to drop his pizza and control a spasm of hiccups.
“Do you mind my asking why our appearance doesn’t offend you?” Raleigh asked, politely.
I shrugged, slightly embarrassed to give my answer. “Growing up I was obsessed with Beauty and the Beast.” I laughed, avoiding all of their reactions. “I know that may seem extremely silly but I think that might be the main reason.” I glanced up at each of their interested looks. I smiled meekly. “But I doubt that falling in love with you would undo this.” I meant his as a joke, but I had the sudden pain that said it was much more serious than that.To them, it actually meant something.
“So…” I muttered quietly and put on a forced smile. “That’s my silly reason.”
“I see.” Raleigh nodded.
After that, the rest of dinner was extremely quiet. I only ate three pieces of pizza and let the others pick at it. When all was said and done Dakota dragged to his room, which reminded me of how I last saw Scout’s room. There was a bunk bed against the wall with the door and across from it a huge entertainment system with a wide screen TV, several game systems, a DVD player and a fancy music system. Then, on a desk put right up to the bottom bunk was a laptop, speakers, and several game controllers. His walls were painted red and covered with movie posters, magazine clippings, and photographs. His floor was littered with his clothes, trash, and dirty dishes.
He had what I thought was a closet in the farthest corner of the room, but when he opened it up I was surprised to see row upon row of video games and cartoon show DVDs. I found myself thinking how completely opposite this home was from my very own, and I was surprised to be extremely jealous.
“Whoa.” I mouthed, staring up into the store like assortment.
“Yeah I know.” Dakota giggled. “Do you have a preference?” He asked. Then, upon seeing my confused stare, grinned. “What kind of games do you like?”
“Uh…Mrs. Pac-Man?” I muttered.
Dakota scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’ll play this one.” He waved a fighter game before me then popped into the corresponding gaming system.
We played that for a few hours until Dakota started yawning loudly. He switched out the game for a cartoon and he curled up beside me on the bed. He fell asleep halfway through the movie, his head resting in my lap and my hand stroking his fur.
When I was sure he was dead asleep I moved him off my lap and covered him up. I turned off all his appliances and lights then exited the room quietly.
“Dakota asleep?” I heard Raleigh call from across the hall. His room was opposite of Dakota’s and I could look into his room as I turned around.
“Out like a light.” I chuckled. I leaned in his doorway and stared around at all the books. It was a little bit bigger than Dee’s own boxed collection. He had two walls of bookshelves, but they went from floor to ceiling and there were several smaller bookshelves cradled into corners. His walls were blue and he had a futon bed positioned between two corner shelves. He had a door on one of the clear walls that was cracked open and I could barely see his neatly organized closet inside.
“The radio said the storm is probably going to last another two or three days.” Raleigh said, looking at the radio sitting by his bed. “Do you think you’ll be fine staying here for that long?” He removed his glasses and sat them on his side table.
I could see the worry in Raleigh’s eyes and it reminded me of my father. “I’ll be fine.” I folded my arms across my chest. “It’s my dad I’m worried about.”
“Well…the phone lines are down. But I do believe Vegas has gone to leave your father a note.” Raleigh murmured.
“What?” I gasped, early tripping over thin air. “He’s gone to my house?”
“Yeah.” Raleigh seemed uncomfortable, like he had just released top-secret information. “He was worried about your father too. I mean, with you not being at the house and all.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip. “That was nice of him to worry.”
“Well, in my opinion, I think he likes having someone other than the rest of us to worry about.” Raleigh said as he stood up and walked towards me at the door. “We’ve been alone in this house for about six years.” He smiled. “I guess we just got boring to him.”
I nodded. “I suppose that it would get boring for anybody for that long.” I glanced over my shoulder, thinking I heard something moving at the end of the hallway. “Where did you guys move from?” I asked, looking back up at Raleigh.
“Somewhere…” He hesitated and looked away for a moment. “Somewhere very unpleasant.”
“Oh.”
“No.” He defended. “Don’t think that we don’t want you to know. I think you should know everything. But for now Vegas wants to give you time. It’s hard to explain. But trust us.”
“No. It’s okay. I owe you guys big time. No need to explain to me.” I chuckled. “I mean, yes, I would love to know. But it understand that it must be a hard thing to talk about. You guys took a big risk even showing yourselves to me.”
Raleigh smiled softly. “Do you know what an amazing person you are?” He asked. “For some reason, it’s easy around you.”
I wanted to ask him about what he meant but his head jerked upward and looked down the hallway.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Someone is home.” He muttered then looked back down at me. “Anyways, I need to get to bed.” He laughed. “If I don’t get more than eight hours of sleep I become psychotic.” His smile then faded. “Not that I don’t like talking to you!”
I shook my head. “It‘s okay. I’m gonna head on to bed too.” I reached out and patted his arm. “Good night.” I chuckled and walked down the hall.
“Good night.” I heard Raleigh echo as I made my way down the hallway.
As I passed the kitchen I heard someone moving about. I, of course, thought it was Vegas. I popped into the kitchen and sat at the bar casually. There was a box of pizza sitting open on the counter along with a glass filled with ice. I looked to the fridge, but I couldn’t see Vegas from the open door and the bright lights inside.
“Hey Vegas.” I called to him, making my presence known. “Raleigh told me you went to my house to give my dad a letter.” I said and looked at the open box of pizza, remembering Vegas had eaten a whole one plus half of mine then a box of breadsticks and half a desert pizza as well. “You didn’t need to do that.”
The fridge door closed and the wolf that stood before me was russet colored and much bigger. My jaw dropped and my breath caught inside my throat. There was no doubt in my mind that the wolf before me was the infamous Lexington.
His silver eyes narrowed upon me and he didn’t move from his spot before the fridge. I was welded to the spot as well. I felt terrified, remembering what the others had been saying during dinner. He was certainly intimidating by appearance alone.
I swallowed my heart back down into my chest and gasped for air. “H-hi there.” Which was perhaps the stupidest thing to say at this moment. I wanted tog et up and run away, but I felt that if I did, it would only make my situation worse.
Lexington was even taller than Vegas and stronger built to boot. He had broad shoulders and thick arms to match. His chest heaved in anger and his lips curled up over his fangs. His fur was a rusty brown and grew longer and wilder against the back of his head. His ears were longer too and jutted out like daggers from his head. He wore no shirt over his muscular chest but he wore a pair of ripped and faded blue jeans that smelled strongly of grease and gasoline.
I managed to catch my breath from the shock and I cleared my throat. “H-hi!” I sputtered out again. “I’m Mackenzie. You must be…” I hesitated, watching as he closed the fridge and push passed me like I was a spider dangling from the ceiling.
“Y-you’re Lexington, right?” I asked after him.
He turned and looked down at me from the other side of the island. I could see the contempt in his eyes as he leered at me. He tossed his head to the side and reached over the countertop of the island, lifting up the box of pizza. As he leaned over the island I noticed how slim his waist was and how long his legs were. I stared up at him as he sat upright again. Our eyes met and he stopped suddenly.
His eyes looked like mirrors, reflecting everything in their silvery surface. I couldn’t look away, knowing his gaze was meant to terrify me to my core.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He snarled.
“I-I was…the storm…” I stuttered.
“I meant here in the kitchen.” He snarled, ripping his teeth through the pizza like he wanted me to think he would do the same to me.
“Oh! Um…I thought you were Vegas and…” I swallowed. “I don’t know.” I muttered apologetically. As I said this he got up and moved towards the cupboards behind me.
“But I feel like if I leave I’ll, well, I’ll stay on your bad side.” I looked up at him, his back turned to me. “And I’d like to be your friend.”
Lexington turned back around and rolled his eyes at me. He pointed a long finger in my face. “You don’t belong here. You shouldn’t have even been allowed through the front door!” He barked and grabbed onto my arm.
“Hey!” I half screamed. “Let go of me.” I struggled against his strong hand.
Lex’s eyes flashed and he lowered his head slightly, talking to me in a low, almost sad, voice. “No one like you should be here. You don’t deserve this kind of punish…”
“Lex!” Vegas roared.
Lexington dropped his hand and leered up at Vegas. I jumped back a pace closer to Vegas and looked up at him cautiously then back up at Lex. His face had changed, his ears slicked back, a smirk curled his lips. He had started putting on his airs.
Lexington sneered sarcastically. “Well, well, well…” He hissed. “If it isn’t our fearless leader.” He stood so that he blocked Vegas and I from one another’s sight’s.
“Don’t you dare talk to Mackenzie like that.” Vegas snarled. “She hasn’t done anything to you.”
“Ha!” Lexington scoffed. “Yet.” He scowled down at me as he skulked out of the room. He shoved Vegas out of his way so hard I was worried for a moment.
Vegas turned back to me and stared at me apologetically. “I am so sorry about him. He didn’t say anything to you did he?”
I didn’t have to heart to tell Vegas that he did say something. Just before Vegas had interrupted him, it sounded as if Lexington was about to say: “You don’t deserve this kind of punishment.” I suddenly felt sorry for Lexington. Out of all four of the wolf-boys, I had a feeling the affliction hurt Lexington the most.
“No.” I murmured. “Nothing that was worth getting upset over anyways.”
Vegas nodded and forced a smile. “That’s good, I guess. Just don’t pay any attention to him.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “But, I don’t blame him for being defensive.”
Vegas frowned, a quizzical look to his eyes. “You don’t?”
I shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Vegas shook his head and faked a laugh. “Guess not.” He turned. “Well, I’m going to bed. So…” He hesitated, watching me with his overly human eyes. “Good night.” He muttered and walked off.
“G’night.” I answered and looked around the kitchen before I went off to my own corner of the studio.
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you weird people liking/reblogging something i wrote over 8 years ago. ( ??? )
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Haikyuu boys-type of girl head cannons
Shiratorizawa Edition
These are what I believe, you don't have to agree
Wakatoshi Ushijima
I think Ushiwaka would like a smaller girl so he can tease her about how small she is compared to him
I also think he would like a girl with a lot of fight, one who doesn’t give up easily
He would want a girl who can keep up with him and his personality, and someone who has her own opinions on things and doesn’t always agree with him no matter what
I don’t think he would care much about how she looks, as long as she’s loyal I don’t think he cares about looks much
I think he would prefer a girl with Brown or Blonde hair with Blue eyes if he had to choose.
Satori Tendou
I think Tendou would like someone like him
someone who could actually understand him and like him for who he is instead of them thinking he’s a monster
Like Ushijima, I think he would like a smaller girl so he can feel powerful and protect her from danger
He would prefer a girl with long Black or Brown hair with Blue or Green eyes
But I don’t really think he cares how she looks, he’s going to love her no matter what.
Eita Semi
Semi would like a girl who is very kind and understanding
A girl who would be very supportive of him and cheer him up when he’s in a bad mood, like after he’s done dealing with Shirabu
He would want someone who can be patient with him, and someone who can tell him what they’re thinking
He likes girls with Brown hair, short or long doesn't matter
The eye color doesn’t really matter but if he had to choose it would be blue
Kenjiro Shirabu
Shirabu would like a girl who can deal with his attitude
This boy is only 5’8 so he would probably want a girl as tall as Noya or Hinata (5’3-5’5)
He likes blonde hair and green eyes but if she had a sweet, calm personality he would easily choose her
definitely prefers personality over looks.
Tsutomu Goshiki
Goshiki like all the others, doesn’t really care what you look like
as long as you’re kind of like him, you're good
He would want someone who is very shy and reserved, that way, if you ever need protecting it boosts his ego.
He likes all types of girls, but his favorite type has dark hair and dark eyes.
#haikyuu!!#shiratorizawa#ushijima wakatoshi#shirabu kenjirou#semi eita#goshiki tsutomu#old writing#writers things#credits to cafekitsune for the dividers
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a small kind of love
⋆₊⁺⋆ ♡ ⋆⁺₊⋆; Philia; Friendly love
⋆₊⁺⋆ ♡ ⋆⁺₊⋆ Storge; Familial love
platonic!teen Reader x Fyodor
What was it exactly that made Fyodor so fond of you, so caring of this teenage girl? Was it the way she seemed so open? The way she never saw the bad in the things around her? Perhaps. But one thing Fyodor knows for sure. This girl is precious, and made his cold heart melt, soften just for her.
He found you that one fated day by the river; as he was passing by on a nightly stroll. The stars were so bright that night, he remembered. So was the moon. And thanks to those two celestial sources of light, he was able to see you. A young girl, crouched by the river bank, her face buried in her knees. Sniffling, like on the verge of tears. Where did this strange girl come from? He decided he wanted to find out. But make no mistake; he did not care for you, not yet.
And so, he approached you, making sure to keep some distance between the two of you as he stood to your side. He was a cold man, so arrogant and proud, and oh so distant. But you were young and already so upset- he didn't want to scare you off. So, he put on a smile, though not genuine, and softened his voice.
"It is not safe for a young girl to be out so late."
And you looked up at him, those big eyes filled with tears- so red and puffy he remembers, like you've been crying for hours on end.
"...I know, mister."
He chuckled softly at the name. Mister. It seems you were a polite girl. He looked down at your teary, puffy eyes... but that didn't sway him. If you had an ability- well he wasn't above using and manipulating children for his plan. So, he leaned down a bit, so that he could look you in the eye. A fake look of sympathy in his eyes.
"Then why are you out here, little one? Nowhere else to go?"
#fyodor dostoevsky#bsd fyodor#fyodor x reader#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#bungou stray dogs fyodor#bsd#bungou stray dogs#old draft#old writing
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One Bed
Warnings: Potential emotional distress due to relationships, non-sexual physical intimacy
In the dimly lit room, Hero and Villain found themselves in an unexpected predicament—they were both stranded for the night in a remote cabin, with only one bed.
Hero glanced around the cozy space, taking in the rustic decor and the soft glow of the fire crackling in the hearth. Despite the circumstances that had brought them together, there was a strange sense of tranquility in the air, as if the universe had conspired to grant them a moment of respite amidst the chaos of their rivalry.
Villain stood near the window, their silhouette outlined against the moonlit sky. There was a tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken truce that had settled between them for the night.
With a sigh, Hero approached the bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling into their bones. "Well, I guess we'll have to make do," they remarked, their voice laced with resignation.
Villain turned to face them, their gaze meeting Hero's with an intensity that sent a shiver down their spine. "Indeed," they replied, their tone unreadable.
As they settled into the bed, their bodies mere inches apart, Hero couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at their insides. They were supposed to be enemies, locked in an eternal struggle for supremacy. And yet, here they were, sharing a bed as if they were old friends.
But soon enough, discomfort crept in as Hero shifted, feeling the weight of Villain's presence too close for comfort. "I can't sleep like this," they muttered, their frustration evident in their tone.
Villain sighed, a hint of annoyance flickering across their features. "Fine," they conceded, "you take the bed. I'll take the floor."
But Hero shook their head, adamant. "No, you shouldn't have to sleep on the floor. We can find another solution."
Villain scoffed, their pride wounded by the suggestion. "I'll change rooms then," they declared, moving towards the door.
But Hero's voice stopped them in their tracks. "You can't," they said quietly. "I checked. They're fully booked."
Villain's shoulders slumped in defeat, the reality of their situation sinking in. "Well, what do you suggest we do, then?"
Hero hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing their features. But then, with a determined glint in their eye, they replied, "We share the bed. But we'll make a pillow wall between us."
Villain raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "A pillow wall?"
Hero nodded, "It's the best compromise we have. We both get to sleep in the bed without invading each other's space."
With a begrudging nod, Villain acquiesced, and together they constructed a makeshift barrier of pillows between them, creating a fragile boundary between them.
As they both drifted off to sleep, the sound of their steady breathing filling the room, Hero couldn't help but wonder what the dawn would bring—a return to their bitter rivalry, or the dawn of a new understanding between them.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
As morning painted the room in soft hues of dawn, Hero stirred from their slumber, blinking groggily as consciousness returned. But as they shifted, they found themselves tangled in a mess of limbs, their body inexplicably intertwined with Villain's.
At first, confusion clouded Hero's mind, their thoughts muddled from sleep. But as awareness slowly seeped in, they couldn't help but feel a strange sense of comfort in the intimate closeness.
With a soft sigh, Hero attempted to extricate themselves from the tangle, their movements gentle so as not to disturb Villain's sleep. But as they tried to pull away, Villain stirred, their grip tightening instinctively around Hero's waist, pulling them closer.
Surprised by the unexpected gesture, Hero stilled, their heart fluttering in their chest as they gazed down at Villain's peaceful expression. In that moment, all traces of loathing melted away, leaving only the warmth of companionship.
Unable to resist the pull of the moment, Hero allowed themselves to relax into Villain's embrace, their lips curling into a soft smile at the unexpected turn of events.
And as they drifted back into a peaceful sleep, entangled in each other's embrace, Hero couldn't help but feel a sense of hope blossoming within them—a hope that perhaps, despite the odds, there was room for understanding and acceptance in even the most unlikely of relationships.
"Love, akin to wildflowers, thrives in the unlikeliest of terrains, sprouting amidst adversity and blooming with unforeseen grace."
Masterlist
#reading#writers on tumblr#hero x villain#invalidstories#short story#hero#villain x hero#villain#villainsxheroes#hero villain#hero and villain#one bed trope#enemies to lovers#old writing
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Rip out my heart and feed it to me because that’s what you do anyways.
Xx dn
#spilled thoughts#personal#spilled ink#mine#spilled words#poetry#love#heroin addiction#words#addiction recovery#you broke my heart#heroin addict#heartbreak#heartache#lovewords#toxic love#spilled poetry#spilled poety#poems and quotes#slam poetry#poems and poetry#poets on tumblr#womensupportingwomen#women writers#writers problems#dark urge#dark writing#i write too much#free write#old writing
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very old thing i wrote about Kutners dead
I saw ppl saying that Kutners dead was a bit too rushed, but I think it makes a bit of sense because if u look at Kutners room it’s all filled with figurines, shows etc, some ppl who are alone or lonely watch shows and obsess over them to escape the reality of them having of them not having friends or family that they are close to not just that there was a scene in house where they showed every character being together with family and friends ,but when it comes to kutner he’s just eating cereal all by himself while watching a show of them not having friends or family that they are close to not just that there was a scene in house where they showed every character being together with family and friends ,but when it comes to Kutner he’s just eating cereal all by himself while watching a show He should kill himself,I also wanted to mention that the reason why house hallucinated kutner in the last episode was because house felt what kutner was feeling,house was about to lose his best friend,his job and go to jail and felt miserable like kutner did, the only difference Is that kutner was filling his void with shows to distract himself and house was filling the void with his addiction and his job.
very old thing i wrote about kutner might have grammar issues
#house md#lawrence kutner#dr kutner#rip kutner#house spoilers#gregory house#writers on tumblr#old writing#just yappin
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If I Close My Eyes
Part 1 of posting my original work from college. 🥲🤭🤭 unedited. Yall 🤣🤣 let's celebrate how far we come in our writing journeys. Give ourselves grace. Because who hurt me chilleee 🤣🤣🤣🤭
If I close my eyes, I'm invisible
If I squeeze them shut, I won't get noticed.
I'll climb down to the size of an ant and finally be insignificant.
If I make my voice as soft as possible, people won't hear me.
If I close my eyes, no one can see me.
I can drift by silently and swiftly
Like the wind blowing through an open window.
If I stand absolutely still, they will forget me.
If I'm quieter than a church mouse,
As silent as a monk,
And as still as a statue forgotten in history, I'll be gone with no one to miss me.
If I close my eyes, I'll be a nobody.
A face forgotten,
A life not lived,
A voice not remembered,
A body not important.
If I close my eyes, I can disappear.
I'll collapse in on myself until there's nothing left.
Not a drop
Not a speck of dust.
Fly, fly away,
To a land time abandoned.
Alone and
separate and
different.
If I close my eyes, I don't matter.
No one wants to hear me speak
Or see me dance.
If I close my eyes...
Yeah
If I close my eyes.
&&&
Taglist: @westside-rot @sageispunk @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @nworbaij
#Megaminds Secret Files#Megaminds Original Secret Files#please#why was I like this#original writing#original poetry#poetry#old writing#writing from college#the depression poetry didnt stop there im afraid
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Here's an abandoned Rosemary fanfic snippet I did back in 2020! The premise was literally "sharing fanfic with another as a sign of trust" so it was fun to write on a meta level, lol.
Pretty much the only context is, It's meant to take place early on on the meteor, I think either pre-dating or early into their relationship. Enjoy!
•••
Kanaya held the journal in her claws carefully, almost reverently.
"You're really sure I can read this...?" She looked up at Rose, her eyes seeking any indication of insincerity or insecurity in the other's. Despite her self-conscious smile, however, Rose seemed otherwise at ease with the concept.
"Well, I'm not sure it's worth that much fanfare or anything, but you can if you'd like to. I thought, since it's based on one of the books you lent me and all, you would be the one reader who best understands the source material... and would be able to point out any glaring inaccuracies I surely glossed over during my many late-night editing sessions," she let out a light laugh, and Kanaya could feel her cheeks warming up a little. She returned her attention to the manuscript in her fronds, bringing it closer to her thorax. Rose was letting her read her private writings... more than that, was trusting her, of all people, to be the first set of ganderbulbs - or eyes - to read it. Kanaya lightly chewed on her lower lip, feeling her fangs scratch the skin.
"I... am honored that you have chosen me to be your first reader, but surely there's someone more deserving of this honor than I? What about Dave?" Kanaya tried, though she still couldn't help but hold the journal tight as she spoke. Rose let out an uncharacteristically loud laugh.
"Hah!! Dave?"
Kanaya flushed again, although this time in mortification, trying her hardest not to shrink herself down behind the journal and severely failing.
"Trust me, Dave is one of the last people I'd let read my writing. Not that that's stopped him," the corner of Rose's mouth pulled down in a grimace as she reflected on something Kanaya could tell she really rather wished to forget. The look on her face passed, however, and she returned her attention to the present.
"Besides, it was you who first introduced me to the many fascinating and intriguing tales of romance from a long-dead alien world... I consider this a love letter of sorts to the spirits of those many departed writers, from the effervescent to the, well... cheesy. It's only fitting you read it, as the bridge between me and the final words of their ghosts." Rose smiled. Kanaya faltered, briefly confused.
"Rose, I thought you would know by now, I am not a rustblood. It is Aradia, if anyone, who would be the one to channel their spirits and hear their final words."
Rose tilted her head, a bemused expression on her face.
"No, Kanaya, I meant.."
"I'm kidding. Pulling your 'leg', as you might say," Kanaya offered a soft, mischievous smile.
Rose snorted.
"For someone who claimed not to get sarcasm, you sure do seem to have gotten quite comfortable with using it."
"What can I say? I had an excellent teacher, and bridge of my own, to show me the many wonders of human sarcasm and its applications," Kanaya laughed as Rose couldn't help but elbow her lightly - not that she would have noticed if it had been rougher. Rose still hadn't quite caught on just how sturdy trolls tended to be compared to humans.
"That said, if you really would like me to be the first reader, then I gladly accept. I am excited to see what you have written," Kanaya said, briefly holding the journal away from her long enough to flip briefly through the pages. Rose stiffened a little, though her expression did not falter.
"Oh, uh. You weren't... planning on reading it now, were you?" She asked, an edge to her voice. Kanaya quickly slapped the journal shut, perhaps a little too hastily.
"Oh, my apologies! I just-"
"No, it's fine, it's fine. I just was not... prepared... to see your responses to it firsthand."
Kanaya blinked, studying Rose's body language for signs of insult. Had she overstepped a cultural human norm? But as Rose's hand briefly brushed up to hold her other arm to her side, only to drop back down in a controlled manner, it occurred to Kanaya that perhaps she was more insecure about the writing than she let on, or at least enough to be embarrassed at the concept of watching Kanaya read her personal work.
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