#TIME TO GET THAT SHOEBOX FROM 2 YEARS AGO

[fatallyaddictedtofiction]

Help i lost the i want to make stuff

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |1|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Stabbing, Break in

Word Count: 3.3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

“Hey babe, what’s up?” you asked.

Tara smiled, even while at work you still managed to answer her calls. She could hear you moving around, the clanging of glasses and the sound of patrons on the other end of the phone. “I miss you,” Tara said. She hadn’t seen you all day and she was home alone and bored.

You chuckled. Tara couldn’t make out the words, you sounded far away but she could tell you were talking to a customer. “Sorry,” you said, coming back to the phone. “We saw each other yesterday.” Tara didn’t say anything, pouting as she grabbed a pot to make dinner. “But,” you sighed, but Tara knew you were smiling. “I missed you too.”

“You didn’t spend the night last night,” Tara pouted, even though you couldn’t see her she wanted to make you feel guilty. “I’m home all alone.”

“You’re always home alone.”  Tara’s pout turned into a frown, she glared at you through the phone. “Besides I have an apartment, we could literally be alone together whenever you want.”

“Your apartment is tiny.”

Tara couldn’t help but smile, imagining the eye roll you’d surely give her. “Is that your way of saying when we get out of this hellhole, you’re not going to live with me?” Tara rolled her eyes; you always made everything so dramatic. “It’s fine. You’ll be going to college, living on campus, and I’ll be living in a shoebox all alone wherever you decide to go.”

“I’d love to live in a shoebox with you,” Tara giggled. “Sounds cozy.”

“Yeah?” you teased. “I thought my apartment was too small.”

“It is.” Your apartment truly was tiny. There was a living room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It was tiny but it was all you. Tara knew it was the best you could do and still save money and since you were on your own it was actually incredible how well you were doing. She still loved giving you shit about your tiny apartment though. “But I like the idea of being in close quarters with you.”

It seemed you had taken the phone away from your ear again. Tara heard you mumbling and someone else, they had a deeper voice, she assumed it was your boss. “I have to go,” you sighed. “I’ve been informed this has counted as my break.”

Tara rolled her eyes; your boss could be an ass at times. “Tell them you’re dealing with an emergency. Your girlfriend is needy and wants your attention.”

You chuckled again. Tara bit her lip, she didn’t need to see you, just hearing your laugh was everything. “I’m not really sure he cares about that.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“I’ll come over after I get off.”

“I’ll wait up.”

“It’ll be late.”

“I’ll wait up,” Tara said again. She always tried to wait up for you. You worked at a bar and usually didn’t get off till well after midnight, almost early morning the next day at times. There were days you’d get off and come over and you’d be in bed for maybe an hour at most before Tara was getting up for school, those days you were always still in bed by the time she got home.

“Off the phone!” an angry voice came. They were clearly a good distance away, but Tara could hear them clear as day.

“Two seconds!” you screamed back. “I really have to go,” your voice went back to being soft, like it always was when you spoke to Tara. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Tara smiled as she hung up. You’d been dating for almost two years and had said ‘I love you’ a long time ago but it never failed to make Tara blush.

Tara smiled to herself, swaying back and forth in the kitchen. You and her always casually talked about the future together. It wasn’t anything crazy, it wasn’t talks about marriage and getting a house together. It was simple, it was talking about moving in together once Tara graduated. It might seem rushed to most people, moving in together right after high school, especially since you were a few years older, but Tara was eighteen and she knew what she wanted.

Some of the people who thought she was crazy were her best friends, they didn’t have a problem saying it either. Tara didn’t listen to them though, you and her had a plan. Tara would graduate and once she heard back from the schools she applied to, she’d choose, hopefully she’d get into her number one choice, then the two of you would find a little place by campus and you’d work, she’d go to school, and she’d get to come home to you and wake up next to you every day.

Since she couldn’t talk to you, she decided to text Amber. She was bored and though she only needed to entertain herself for a few hours she didn’t want to do it alone. She would just have to make sure Amber didn’t spend the night. You and Amber didn’t get along to put it lightly. You basically hated each other but tolerated each other’s presence, to an extent, for Tara’s sake. Tara honestly wasn’t sure why you didn’t like each other. It was more Amber than you, you kind of just reciprocated her hatred. Amber was never fond of you though. Tara has tried to ask a few times what the deal was, and Amber only ever said she just didn’t think you were good enough.

Tara: Wanna come over? We can binge watch movies

Amber: Where’s the girlfriend?

Tara rolled her eyes. Amber always started off hostile when it came to you. Ever since Tara introduced you, even before the two of you started dating. Amber has always had attitude. Tara tried to avoid talking about you but in times like this it was hard when Amber was the one bringing you up for no reason.

Tara: Work

Amber: Glad to know I’m the second choice

Tara: Stop

Tara: Do you want to hangout or not?

Tara: I’ll make the popcorn

Amber: You can do better than that

The phone on the counter started to ring. Tara looked up from her phone, scrunching her eyebrows at the ringing. No one ever called the landline, if someone wanted to talk to her or her mom, they had their cell. Hell, Tara wasn’t even sure she knew the home phone number. She shook her head and went back to texting Amber.

Tara: You get first pick of the movie?

Amber: I got some homework to finish up

Tara rolled her eyes, of course Amber was going to be difficult. The landline continued to ring. Tara was doing her best to ignore it, whoever was calling seemed persistent though.

Tara: Open liquor cabinet

Amber: Sold!

Tara: Fucking landline won’t stop ringing

“Hello?” Tara answered the landline with an eyeroll, not being able to stand the ringing any longer and hoping to get rid of whoever was on the other end quickly.

“Hello, is Christina there?” A man asked.

Tara rolled her eyes again, of course it was someone asking for her mom. “No, she’s not available. May I take a message?”

“Oh, uhh, yeah, sorry,” he stumbled over his words. Tara didn’t pay him much mind as she got the footrest and made her way over to get the key to the liquor cabinet. “I’m a friend of hers from group. Shit,” he whispered, clearly not meaning to say that.

“From her shit?” Tara smiled to herself, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

“Just tell her I’m from group, I’m Charlie, she’s got my number.”

“Oh, she goes to group?” Tara asked, not believing for a second her mom was going to any sort of group.

“I shouldn’t have-look can you just tell her Charlie called?”

“And I’ll do exactly that Charlie, once you tell me what kind of group we’re talking about. Is it AA? NA?”

“Well, you sound exactly like she described you.”

“She talks about me in group?” Tara couldn’t believe that either, that definitely didn’t sound like her mom.

“Look, I don’t think I can really talk about that.”

Tara sighed, pulling out her phone again. She needed to tell Amber about this. Amber knew exactly what her mom was like and there was no way she wouldn’t enjoy this.

Tara: Dude I think it’s my mom’s new BF

Amber: Seriously???

“What did she say about me?” there was an edge of hostility in her tone, she wanted to hear all about what her mother possibly said about her in this group.

“Well, she loves you very much.”

“Oh, what does she love about me?” Tara asked, her sarcasm coming back.

“She loves that you’re creative, you love art and TV and movies.”

“Okay, lots of people love movies,” she shook her head, dismissing him.

“But she said you love scary movies and that you guys have that in common. She’s proud at making a fan out of you.”

“She is?” Tara slowed her movements, she used to watch scary movies with her mom all the time, but she’d never heard her mom say she was proud of her for anything before.

“Yeah, she told me the other day she wonders, what’s your favorite scary movie?” Tara ignored the way the man’s voice changed, still focusing on the fact that her mom was apparently proud of her.

“Uhh, The Babadook, it’s an amazing meditation on motherhood and grief.”

“Isn’t that a little fancy pants?” the man asked with a chuckle.

“Well, it’s elevated horror.”

“What does that mean, elevated horror?”

“You know, it’s like scary but with complex emotional and thematic underpinning, it’s not just some schlocky cheeseball nonsense with wall-to-wall jump scares.”

The man hummed, not seeming very interested in her answer. “That seems kind of boring to me. Have you ever seen Stab?” his tone changed again when he asked her the question, but once again Tara didn’t think much of it.

“Once, I think, at a sleepover, when I was like twelve.”

The man laughed at that. “You live in Woodsboro, and you don’t know Stab? Well, your mother loves that movie, she talks about it all the time in group. How well do you remember the original?”

“I don’t know, and it was like super 90s, it was really over lit, and everyone had weird hair.”

“Do you remember the beginning?”

“Not really, I mean it started with a kill scene, right? They always started with a kill scene.”

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s right,” he tone shifted again. “It’s a girl at home alone, she answers the wrong number and starts talking with the killer who makes her play a game.” Tara slowed her movements again, thinking the conversation was treading into weird territory. “Would you like to play a game, Tara?” he whispered her name. A chill went down her spine and she quickly hung up, not bothering to answer him.

Tara tossed the phone on the counter, watching it as if it would ring again. Her eyes darted around the house, looking for anything that shouldn’t be there. She pulled out her phone and locked all the doors, arming the alarm. She knew it was Woodsboro and someone always liked to make prank calls, especially around this time of year but she wasn’t taking her chances. Tara looked out the window, not seeing anyone creeping around her yard as she closed the curtains.

Tara checked the time on her phone. Only several minutes had passed since she had talked to you. She still had a few hours before you’d get off and get to the house. Her thumb hovered over your contact, wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. Tara knew she was just being paranoid, but she just wanted your comfort, you’d calm her down within seconds. She didn’t want to bother you though, she knew you were at work, you were busy, and you’d already been yelled at for just talking to her.

She left your contact and went to text Amber. She just needed to be talking to someone. It was clearly a stupid prank, but she just wanted someone to help keep her sane otherwise her imagination would drive her crazy.

Tara: It was some psycho. I’m locking the doors.

Amber: WTF??? You okay?

Tara started to type out she was fine and just a little jumpy. She knew it was probably a prank but that didn’t mean it wasn’t freaking her out. Before she could finish typing her text though the phone started ringing again, making her jump.

Amber: You should answer it.

Tara scrunched her eyebrows looking at Ambers text, she slowly lifted her eyes to look at the ringing phone again, then back down at her cell. Her thumb hesitated over the letters as she typed out her message.

Tara: How did you know my landline was ringing?

Tara: Amber?

Amber: This isn’t Amber

Amber: ANSWER THE PHONE BITCH

Tara moved to call the police; she had nine dialed, tears slowly began to fill her eyes, when another message appeared.

Amber: ANSWER THE PHONE OR AMBER DIES

Tara ran back to the counter, picking up the phone. “This isn’t fucking funny Amber,” she said but couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice.

“I told you, this isn’t Amber,” the same voice as before said, this time sounding much more sinister. Just then a video was sent to Tara, when she opened it, she saw footage of Amber, sitting in her room and brushing her hair. “Amber’s looking particularly fetching tonight. She really shouldn’t leave her phone lying around for anyone to clone.”

“What do you want?”

“I told you, I want to play a game,” he talked to her as if she was a child. “Stab movie trivia, three rounds, you call the cops, she dies, you get a question wrong, she dies, her parents aren’t home, I can be in that room in fifteen seconds. You want a warm-up question?”

“I told you, I don’t know these movies,” came out in a whine, tears already getting ready to fall. “I don’t! Ask me about something I do know,” she tried to bargain. “Ask me about It Follows, ask me about Hereditary, ask me about The Witch.”

“In the first Stab movie,” he continued, completely ignoring Tara’s pleas. “What Woodsboro native was introduced as the franchise’s main character?”

“It’s Sidney Prescott! It’s Sidney Prescott and she lived on Elm.”

“Correct. You see, you’re gonna do great at this. Okay, question one.”

“Nonono, I got that one right, it should count.”

“Anyone could have gotten that one right, Sidney’s in every movie but the last one. Question one, who wrote the original book the Stab movies are based on?”

“The chick from TV,” Tara struggled to remember her name. She had never read any of the books and she certainly didn’t watch the morning show the lady did.

“The chick from TV is not going to cut it Tara,” they let out a disappointed sigh.

“Oh! Gale Weathers! It’s Gale Weathers you motherfucker.”

“Correct. Amber might live to see the sunrise. Question two, who played the dumb bitch at the beginning of Stab one who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that the answer you’re going with?” Tara quickly typed on her phone, going to IMDB and looking at the cast for Stab. “A non-answer counts as a wrong answer Tara. Time’s running out.” He continuously repeated the words tick tock, getting faster and faster as the seconds passed, making Tara more anxious and scroll faster.

“Maybe I made a mistake,” he continued, causing Tara to halt her scrolling for a second. “Maybe Amber isn’t enough motivation.” Tara let out a shaky breath, preparing herself for his next words. “Maybe I should have gone after your little girlfriend,” he spit out, not able to hide is clear hatred. “It’d be much easier, I mean it’s late, there’s no one around. No one would even hear her scream.”

“She has nothing to do with this!” Tara screamed, sobbing into the phone. She couldn’t get the image out of her head of you leaving the bar and getting jumped by Ghostface, getting stabbed and left to bleed out in the street with no one to help.

“She has everything to do with this,” the voice snapped. Tara didn’t even have time to process the clearly emotional outburst. “Tick tock Tara,” they snapped again. “Or should I just kill both? I’m sure I can gut Amber and then make it to-”

“Heather Graham!” Tara screamed finally finding the name, cutting the killer off before he could threaten you again.

“Correct,” he said, going right back to his calmer demeanor. “You pulled that one out, now for the final question, who was the killer in Stab one?”

“Oh, I know this one you fuck,” Tara gasped, realizing she knew the answer. “It’s Billy Loomis! It’s Billy Loomis and he was Sidney’s boyfriend, and he was played by Luke Wilson, and I got you asshole,” Tara couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved at getting the answer right. “I got it! I got it right!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Tara,” he almost sounded sympathetic. “But that’s just not correct.”

“What?” Tara whispered, confused, and not believing what she was hearing. “No no no no it is, that is right.”

"The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, there are two killers in the original Stab. I’m afraid someone’s gotta die now.”

“Nono, Amber I’m coming!” she shouts as she sets down the phone and grabs a kitchen knife, running for her front door.

When Tara threw open her door, she was met with the sight of Ghostface who quickly slashed their knife across her left side. Tara punched them in the face and slammed the door. She fought against Ghostface as he tried to shove his way in but eventually, she got the door shut, quickly locking it.

Tara pulled out her phone again, arming the system again and hitting the button to alert the authorities. She picked up her knife, slowly backing up down the hallway as she heard Ghostface relentlessly banging on the door trying to get in when suddenly the banging stopped. Tara’s heart dropped when she heard the alarm system say it was disarmed, Ghostface had access to her system somehow. Tara quickly armed it again, but Ghostface was ready, disarming it once again. They went back and forth arming and disarming the alarm system until it finally landed on armed.

Tara stood at the end of the hallway gasping for breath as she continued to sob. The landline rang again, startling her and making her swing the knife. She held the wall, sobbing as she made her way back to the landline.

“Hello?” Tara said, her words shaky as she stood in the middle of the kitchen, keeping the hand holding the knife raised.

“Bonus question Tara,” Ghostface whispered.

“Please stop,” she begged.

“Do you think I made it inside your house before you could re-arm?”

Just as Tara’s eyes widened with the realization, Ghostface came out from behind her, stabbing her in the stomach. Tara let out a scream of pain. When Ghostface pushed her into the kitchen island she turned around, smacking him across the head before he could stab her again.

Ghostface grabbed her by the head and shoved her to the floor. Tara rolled over, kicking Ghostface in the stomach. Ghostface brought down their boot, snapping Tara’s leg. Tara rolled over, sobbing from the pain.

Ghostface brought down his knife towards her face, but she reached up, causing the knife to go through her left hand. Tara screamed, holding Ghostface’s arm up as he continued to try and push the knife towards her face despite it still being in her hand. He finally pulled the knife out and Tara kicked him, making him lose his balance and crash to the floor.

Unable to walk, Tara crawled her way to the front door, screaming for help. Just as Tara reached the door and she could hear the police sirens, Ghostface yanked her back, stabbing her in the side several more times.

“Nononononono,” Tara screamed as Ghostface brought his knife down onto her again.

[remiratboi]

Lost Souls Campground - Ollidar

Masterlist

Yandere!MHalfOrcXFatAFAB!G/NReader ~ 11K Words

You met when you were children, and he never spoke. You were childhood best friends. Now, a decade after you last saw him, you've returned to the very campground you grew up seeing him at. You never imagined you'd find him there again.

CW: Monster fucking, noncon/dubcon, stalking, yandere, obsessive relationship, unhealthy relationship, body image issues, bondage, gaslighting, manipulation. Let me know if I missed something.

I re-edited it and changed a few things, and posted it all as one!

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

Every year, your family would vacation in the Moonlight Realm. The pocket universe that had been discovered around 100 years ago. ‘Moonlight Realm’ it was affectionately called because of the creatures who dwelled there. Monsters.

As well as monsters of all kinds, the Moonlight Realm boasted of beautiful scenery, cheap rates, and what humans originally deemed “exotic cultures”.

But the humans and the monsters had settled into a comfortable coexistence, and monsters were far from rare any longer. You grew up with creatures all around you. It was common and equal. The human race had come a long way.

The little cabin you always rented for the whole summer was small and cramped. You, 3 siblings, your parents, and an elderly dog made the 2 bedroom unit feel like a shoebox. From a very young age, you had learned all the best hiding spots and getaways in the park. When you were around 10 years old, you found that apparently someone else had found them too.

A young half orc named Ollidar, or Ollie.

You didn’t speak the same language, and the first time you met, it had been awkward and confusing. You had tried to tell him he was welcome, and that there was enough room for the both of you. He seemed to understand, as he ended up sitting across from you in the small natural clearing that sat just inside the forest.

You probed him with questions, you tried acting things out, you tried writing them down with a stick in the dirt. He didn’t respond. Sometimes it looked like he understood something but he never gave any reply. Just sat there, watching you. Sometimes he’d smile shyly.

The first summer it had been a lot to get used to. He started meeting you every day in the same spot. Sometimes he’d read, or listen to music on his AirPods, but mostly he watched you.

You wasted a few days trying to get him to respond, but since he never did, it slowly switched to you just talking to him. You told him… everything. You had to fill the silence. It would be too awkward if not.

You told him about your friends back home, your cat who you missed terribly and hoped was liking the pet sitter. About your favourite movies, books, foods. You told him about your fears, you weren’t sure why. You told him embarrassing stories. Sometimes you even worried he would think you were lame or weird and leave, but he never did. He just listened.

The summer came to an end and you did your best to tell him goodbye. That you hoped to see him again.

And you would. Every year. Every summer you spent two glorious months glued to each other’s sides. Your families became close through you.  He had a sister and two moms. Your parents got along, and all of your siblings as well.

No one understood why he never spoke. It wasn’t a language barrier anymore. After 7 summers together both families knew more than enough about the other’s language. Enough to communicate with little confusion. He seemed to understand everything. If you asked him to pass you something, he would. If you gave him something he didn’t want, he’d shake his head. But he never spoke.

You stopped going on family vacations when you turned 18. You had moved out, so had most of your siblings. Your parents decided it was time for your own family vacations.

The first summer that you weren’t going, hit you harder than you’d ever imagined. Your chest hurt.

The next year was better.

And the next.

Soon you were 28 and that little half orc was just a fond, albeit, bittersweet memory.

Until your parents decide to do a sort of reunion trip this year. All of your siblings, and their families, plus you and your parents, would be taking a summer vacation to Lost Souls Campground in the Moonlight Realm this year.

It had barely changed. Some machines had been upgraded, the cabins had clearly been renovated to function with modernity, but other wise it was beautiful, serene, and just like you remembered it.

“It’s you.” A strong deep voice full of awe whispered from behind you. You turned around and was met with a face indeed in awe. It took a moment but you realized this was the first time you’d ever heard his voice.

“Oh wow!” You exclaimed. Genuine joy spreading across your face. “You’re here?!” You cried and raced up to him. He didn’t even flinch as you threw yourself at him. His arms opened and he gathered you in a powerful embrace. There was a hint of desperation in the way he clung to your soft body.

You felt a pang of anxiety that had been previously overtaken by the shock of seeing him. You were not thin anymore. And while you loved your body, and felt sexy in it, not everyone else was as comfortable with fat bodies as you were. What if he didn’t want you like this?

Want me like this? What am I thinking?!

You tried to pull yourself away from the hug, but he held tight.

“It’s you…” he muttered into your hair. He was warm, and huge. The orc part of his genes must have been strong. He dwarfed you. It took a lot for someone to make you feel small. Some part of your brain short circuited when you finally registered he had been lifting you. You panicked slightly then, worried about being too heavy and pushed yourself from his chest. He reluctantly lowered you down.

You were blushing from feet to head as you smoothed out your clothes. “Sorry, I… I was just surprised to see you.” You stuttered out. You looked up at his face. He was beautiful. You could see hints of the boy you knew, but he had grown, developed thick muscles, his face thinned out and lengthened.

“You came back.” He replied. His gaze was hyper focused on you. It seemed nothing else registered to him any longer. You squirmed a bit under such overwhelming attention.

“Yeah, we stopped back then, when all of us had moved out. But we are doing a sort of reunion trip this summer!” You explained excitedly. You felt giddy. You didn’t even really understand why. You felt excitement at seeing him.

“Does your family still come here every year?” You asked and leaned around him to see if any of them were standing near by.

“No, just me.” He answered. For the first time since seeing you, his gaze dropped. His cheeks darkened.

“You must really love this ratty old place, huh?” You joked and nudged his arm with your elbow.

“I guess.” He replied, still avoiding eye contact. “So how long are you here for?” He asked.

“The whole summer!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms out wide as if that would show the physical manifestation of time. “I had about a decade of vacations days saved up, so I decided to take the whole summer. Everyone else is just here for a couple weeks.”

He nodded and glanced back up into your eyes. “So just you and your partner are here for the summer? Or do you have kids now?” He asked and dropped his gaze again.

You chuckled. Kind of a transparent attempt my guy. “No, no partner. No kids. Never found anyone willing to put up with me long enough.” You joked self deprecatingly. “You of all people know how much I can talk.” You grimaced at yourself.

“That was my favourite thing about you.” He replied quietly. He seemed nervous. You blushed again. “The way you spoke was mesmerizing.” He continued before, it seemed, he could stop himself.

A manic sounding giggle escaped your lips. “Wow, marry me?” You joked. It was his turn to laugh like a crazy person.

“So, uh,” you continued “how long are you here for?”

“Whole summer.” He answered and smiled up at you. “How solo were you hoping to spend your time?” He ran his hand down the back of his neck and rested it on his shoulder.

You laughed and placed your hand on his arm.

The first few days with Ollie were a little awkward. Not in an uncomfortable way, but in that you didn’t know eachother anymore. It had been a decade since you had spent time together, and while he talked a little more than he used to, it was still few and far in between.

You couldn’t tell if he found it awkward though. He never mentioned it. He just followed you around. He seemed content to just exist nearby you.

The first two weeks breezed by in a flurry of family, kids, games, and way too much food. At the end of it, you waved them goodbye and excitedly hurried back to the little cabin. This would be the first time you’d had it all to yourself.

You pulled the door shut behind you and basked in the quiet for a moment. You could always hear other campers outside. Kids shrieking, vehicles moving, multiple different music sources all floating on top of eachother. And inside was a sort of haven from it all.

You made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink when you found a plate full of cookies, uncovered and still warm on the counter. You were surprised, you hadn’t noticed anyone baking before they’d left? Weird.

You inspected a cookie. Sniffed it, licked it. You didn’t immediately explode, so you shrugged your shoulders to yourself and took a bite. It was a very good cookie. You grabbed a couple more and threw them in a baggie. You gathered some other things, and changed into your bathing suit.

The beach was a short 5 or so minute walk from your cabin, and you munched away at your cookie the whole way. It was a bit overcast, so the beach wasn’t as crowded as it usually was.

You claimed a spot near another family, so that you felt comfortable leaving your stuff alone if you swam, and laid your towel out. You pulled your slinky bathing suit cover over your head and dropped it next to your things.

It was still a bit early in the day to go into the water so you opted for sunbathing with the hopes you’d get all warm and toasty then cool off in the water. Soon you were face down on a towel, your head on your arms, dozing away. You were interrupted by a prolonged blocking of sun rays.

You craned your head up and struggled to make out who it was looming over you with the suns rays blinding you from behind them. You glanced down at their feet next to you and recognized pale green skin.

“You liked the cookies?” Ollies deep voice asked. You were about to say yes, when you processed the implications of him being the one to hand deliver, into your kitchen, without asking, the surprise treat you’d found. You sat up and tugged his hand so he wasn’t standing in front of the sun anymore and you could actually see him.

“Uh, yeah they were good. But, that means you were in my cabin?” You asked incredulously.

“Oh, sorry, was that inappropriate?” He asked, genuine concern seeming to lace his tone. “Sorry, I sometimes…” he trailed off. He looked anxious again. You chose to let him work through what he wanted to say. Words were hard for him, and you wanted him to feel safe sharing them with you. Even if right now you were kind of peeved with him. “Sometimes I don’t understand what’s.. ok, or whatever.” He finished.

“Well, I appreciate your apology. No, going into someone else’s space without their consent, isn’t ok.” You softened. He wasn’t trying to cross a boundary. And he had apologized immediately. “How did you get in anyway?” You queried, already moving on from the emotions.

“I, uh, it was unlocked.” He stuttered out. Your eyebrows knit together. You could have sworn it was locked. But you shrugged past the confusion quickly. How else would he have gotten in?

“Weird. Well, anyway, I do like the cookies, they are delicious and very sweet of you.” You placed your hand on his lower calf where you could reach in a comforting way. “Just next time please knock.” You winked and giggled.

He nodded emphatically.

You and Ollie spent the day at the beach. You realized later that you never actually asked him to join you, but you weren’t displeased that he did. Even after only two weeks, you were pretty used to having him around you again. It was just like when you were kids.

Well, almost. You couldn’t help but notice some of his gazing wasn’t quite as… wholesome as it had been when you were kids. But it didn’t bother you. He wasn’t lewd about it at all, and if you were being honest with yourself, you kind of enjoyed it. Also, you had to admit, you had done some gazing yourself.

He was huge. He was muscled. He was gorgeous, and didn’t seem to be aware of it. He was exquisitely shy around everyone but you. And on top of all that, he seemed to notice only you.

You had watched countless others throw themselves at him, just to be rejected one way or another. More often than not, it seemed he just genuinely didn’t realize he was being hit on. Sometimes he’d be forced into straight up turning someone down, but mostly he’d just give them a puzzled look, and walk away.

Today was no different. You were reaching for the sunscreen when a volleyball sprayed sand all over you. You yelped and sand filled your mouth. A very pretty woman jogged over.

“O-M-G! I am so sorry about that!” She said in one of the fakest voices you’d ever heard. She said it to Ollie, not you, even though he hadn’t been hit with the spray at all. Normally you would have said something sassy, but you were too busy spitting sand from your mouth.

Ollie didn’t respond to her, but he leaned over to grab the volleyball from where it had landed between you.

“I’m Selina!” She said, all bubbly. “I’ve seen you around, you should play with us some time!”

Ollie looked up at her, volleyball still in his hands. He glanced at you. He turned back to her and thrust the ball towards her. He held it tightly in one single hand. You couldn’t help but notice how large his hand was.

“You should be more careful.” He replied, emotionless.

She took the ball and giggled anxiously. “Oh, yeah of course, we totally will.” She smiled awkwardly at you. “So, do you want to come play now?” She shot her shot.

“No.” Ollie replied.

“Aw, come on. We don’t bite.” She joked and wiggled her finger at him.

Ollie glared at her now. His face no longer impassive but furious. It surprised you. He didn’t normally express much emotion visibly.

“First you spray sand all over my partner,” he started.

Partner?!

“Then you apologize to me, not even the one you sprayed.” He continued, his tone developing an edge. The girl raised the hand not holding the ball in front of her and took a hesitant step back.

“THEN you hit on me in front of them, and don’t take no for an answer?” He shook his head at her, his soft black curls bouncing with the movement. “I am so, painfully, not interested.” He finished.

The woman blushed deeper red at each of his words, before spinning on her heel and practically running away.

“That was kind of rude.” You said quietly. You could feel his annoyance rolling off of him.

“Did I say anything untrue?” He asked you. His words were demanding, but his tone was soft. He was always soft with you. He glared in the direction she had ran. 

“Well, not really.” You answered speculatively. “Mostly. Partner?” You asked and turned to look at him.

“Ah, yeah, sorry. I guess that wasn’t true.” He replied. He glanced up at you from the side, but didn’t turn to face you.

“Why did you say it then?” Your voice sounded small, but you felt bold for vocalizing the question pounding in your head.

He turned to look at you for a moment. A fire blazed in his eyes. He didn’t say anything for a long time. He just stared into your eyes. You found you couldn’t look away.

Finally, “Sorry, I guess I wanted more reason to defend you. I felt… more angry than made sense.” He turned to look back down in front of him. You mulled his words for a moment. That made sense. What you still wondered about was the feelings that made him ‘more angry than made sense’.

You reached out and lay a hand on his shoulder. He tensed for a moment, but then quickly relaxed into your touch. “Thank you for defending me.” You said quietly. A smile played at his lips. He glanced back at you for just a second.

“Oh, also I think that was the most words I’ve ever heard you say all in a row about the same topic.” You teased him.

Your hand still lay on his shoulder. A part of you recognized the moment was over, and it made sense to remove your hand. But you didn’t. His skin was warm and you could feel his muscles tense and move with him.

You were surprised by a sudden, intense desire to touch him everywhere.

“I like your bathing suit by the way.” He mumbled. You almost didn’t catch it. Your cheeks burned and you stared at him for a second too long. 

You snapped out of it and finally pulled your hand from his shoulder. You found yourself fidgeting with the ties that hung down the side of your string bikini. To be honest, you hadn’t expected to see him here, and this suit was one you normally reserved solely for private sun bathing as it was pretty skimpy. You were suddenly very aware of the soft rolls on your sides. The way your thighs pressed together. 

“Oh, really?” Your laugh had a slight edge. “My mom told me it’s not… flattering on my body.” You didn’t know why you told him that. It was embarrassing. Not only had your mother insulted you, but she’d body shamed you. And now you were telling the absolute hunk of a man sitting next to you looking like an Adonis? “But I like it, still.” You finished lamely. 

You looked up then to see Ollie staring at you. The fire in his eyes had returned. The same fire he’d had when you asked him why he’d called you his partner. “It’s very flattering. Your mother is a lovely woman, but clearly blind.” He spoke with an almost comedic level of seriousness. You fought the instinct to brush off the compliment. You didn’t want to. You wanted to believe him. 

You tucked your hair behind your ear and smiled to yourself. “Thank you.” Your voice was soft. 

After that day on the beach, Ollie became significantly more protective of you. More possessive. He was always around you. He brought you coffee and breakfast, he fixed little things around the cabin for you, he planned activities for you both to do.

You wouldn’t have thought him a hardcore hobby guy, but he took you rock climbing, and snorkelling. He took you to a local pottery studio, he brought you to the library in town. He always had you doing something.

It was starting to drive you crazy.

You had wanted to relax?! Not that you didn’t enjoy the activities, and his company, but it never stopped. You were on vacation. You had planned to lie on the beach for two months straight, eating, drinking, and probably smoking a lot of weed. Now here you were, sober, and painting in the woods.

You felt guilty. This was a beautiful activity, and you were genuinely enjoying it. But it just hadn’t been what you planned for. You would have loved a few things here and there, but not every day, all day long.

You decided to tell him that evening. The painting class ended, and you were actually pretty pleased with your work. It was a life painting of the little waterfall and pond the class had been set up next to. You weren’t anything special, but you were proud of it nonetheless.

Ollie jumped into his old, open jeep and carefully placed both of your paintings behind his seat. He leaned across the bench seat to offer you his hand. He pulled you up onto the bench like you weighed nothing. It’s something he must have done 100 times by now, but every single time, you blushed like a fool. Your core heated at the casual way he handled you. 

“You’re not heavy, you know.” Ollie broke the silence as you headed back to the camp.

“… what?” You asked, confused.

“You always look so worried after I help you into the car.” He glanced at you then back to the road. “You’re not heavy.” He stated matter of factly

You blushed again. He had no idea.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I’m worried about that.” You lied lamely. You’d always been bad at lying. You chewed on your lip.

His brows furrowed slightly. “Ok, so if that’s not it,” His voice was smooth and deep. He didn’t speak much. Even now. He mostly used basic gestures to communicate. But sometimes, when you were alone, he’d talk. You loved it. More than you probably should have. A warmth spread from the centre of you and radiated out. “what is it then?” He continued, pulling you out of your own thoughts.

“Uh, what is what then?” You replied, hoping he’d drop it if you pretended not to understand.

“Why do you blush so hard every time you get in my vehicle?” He asked. There was no getting around that one.

You sighed to yourself. Do you tell him? What the hell, you thought to yourself. What does it matter if he thinks you’re a horny slut? He’s just some guy you’re going to see for another month and a half, then never again. Who cares… right?

“I… gods this is embarrassing,” you started. You saw his one eyebrow raise. “It’s… ok… it’s hot as fuck, ok?” You forced out. You could feel how warm your cheeks were. This was worse than you thought it would be. You cared more than you liked.

“… what’s hot?” He asked slowly. You died a little. Of COURSE he was going to make you spell it out.

“Omg Ollie, I just… I’m not… small alright? So having a very attractive man casually lift me like it’s nothing?” You stared out the open window, unable or unwilling to look at him. “That’s really hot.”

He nodded slowly beside you. You could see in your peripheral that his cheeks had also darkened.

“Is it hot because any man is lifting you, or because I’m lifting you?” He finally asked.

Jesus Christ

“You know,” you started, your voice an octave too high. “I REALLY haven’t given it much thought.”

It was silent in the car for a long time.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore. “So…”

He didn’t look at you. His knuckles were white on the wheel.

“So what are we doing tonight?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He replied, too quickly. Your heart fell. Here it was. Just like always.

You were quiet the rest of the drive. He dropped you off at your cabin. Normally he’d jump out and open your door for you. Not tonight. Had you really read him that wrong?

You shut the door behind you and turned around to speak. Before you could, he shifted the gear and drove slowly away.

You spent the evening alternating between disappointed, embarrassed and annoyed. It surprised you how hard it was to keep your mind off of it. Normally rejection rolled off of you. You were pretty used to it, unfortunately. Dating while fat was… something else.

But this was different somehow. You cared this time. It hit you like a truck when you realized it. For the first time, in a very long time, you cared.

You hated it. You hated giving someone that power. Being vulnerable wasn’t something you did well.

You had spent your entire life being “too much”. You were too big, both in personality and body. You were too loud, you had too many emotions, and thoughts. You talked too much. And people were not scared to tell you. You couldn’t even count the times and ways people had defined you as “too much”. The blatant words, the subtle actions, the micro aggressions. That was your life.

But not him. He had told you his favourite thing about you was how much you talked. Which, honestly, felt fake, but it was hard not to believe his genuine eyes. He had done so many things to make you think he…

You instinctively shut down that train of thought. You shouldn’t get your hopes up. He’s made it clear you read things wrong.

The next day came slowly. It was raining. You rolled over in bed, not eager to start the day. You debated going back to sleep, when you heard dishes clinking.

You shot up, fear ripping through your chest. Had you imagined that? No. You heard it again.

A chill settled in your bones as you carefully, silently, crawled out of bed. You wore a skimpy tank top that barely covered you. It was low cut, you never wore a binder/bra, you didn’t need to, you had been blessed with only tiny handfuls for tits, and it rested under your waist showing your lower stomach. The booty shorts you wore didn’t make things any better. They were practically underwear. You debated trying to throw more clothes on, but knew the closet doors creaked.

The little cabin was small, but the bedrooms were on one side, and the kitchen on the complete opposite. You made your way towards it, picking up a badminton racket on the way. It had been discarded in the hallway after another one of your activities with Ollie.

You raised the racket above your shoulder and took a deep breath to steel yourself. This was it. You slowly stepped around the corner. Your mind filled with murderers and villains.

The tall, pale green half orc that was bent over the stove with his back to you was not what you were expecting. You practically sobbed with relief.

“Ollie?!” You demanded, your voice cracking and sounding a lot more desperate than you’d like. He turned slightly, but didn’t look away from whatever he was doing.

“Good morning!” He said cheerily. “Sorry if I woke you. I just wanted to make you breakfast to make up for yesterday.” He continued. You noticed now milk and eggs on the counter. The smell of food wafted towards you.

You didn’t say anything. Your brain was struggling to compute. You had like 7 questions. How had he got in? Why did he do this? Why did he think it was ok? But most importantly, what does he mean ‘make up for yesterday’?!

Just as you realized you’d been standing there, slackjawed, not answering, for far too long, he turned. As soon as he saw you, he froze. His cheeks went dark green and the flipper he was holding clattered to the ground. You were confused for about .02 whole seconds before you remembered you were almost naked.

“Uh, I’ll be right back.” You blurted out and raced back to your room. You threw the door shut and leaned against it. What the hell was he doing here? In your cabin! While you were asleep!

Your mind raced as you threw a loose tee over the tank, and a pair of thin sweats on. You made your way back to the kitchen.

“Ollie, I think we need to talk about boundaries-” you started. You stopped when you noticed the front door was open. You looked from the door to the kitchen. He was gone. A thin plume of smoke started on the stove. Something was burning.

A quick toss of the pan into the sink dealt with that. You turned off the burner and leaned on the counter in bafflement.

No, fuck that! He doesn’t get to just run away from this!

You ran after him.

You stormed down the little path, through the camp, and straight to Ollies cabin. You always thought his cabin looked less like a vacation home, and more like a regular home.

Three raps rung out as you knocked on the front door.

No answer.

You were like 90% sure he had gone home.

“Ollie, I know you’re in there. We need to talk.” You called. It was silent for a long moment. You almost began second guessing yourself.

“I… I can’t.” Came softly from inside.

Can’t?! CAN’T?!

“Like HELL you can’t!” You shouted through the door. You cringed slightly when you ended up being louder than you’d meant. A couple walking by stared at you. You raised your hand and smiled unconvincingly.

“Ollie,” you continued, a bit quieter. “You just broke into my cabin while I was sleeping. We are talking about this, right now.” You gritted your teeth. “Open. The. Door.” You left no room for discussion.

A long moment passed with no reply. You fidgeted. Just when you had started to consider squeezing your ass through a window, his voice came through the door.

“It’s open.” He answered.

Oh.

You turned the handle and pushed the door open. He sat, in the afternoon light filtering through the window, on his couch, head hung so you couldn’t see his face, with a large pillow gripped in front of him.

He looked sad. You hadn’t expected sad. You don’t know what you’d expected, but not sad. You steeled your resolve.

“Ok, this has gone too far.” You started. “You’re a great guy, but you don’t seem to understand boundaries, so I’m going to lay them out, clear as day, and if you cross them again, that’s going to be it, Ollie.” You finished and crossed your arms. He looked up through his curls. He looked like he was in agony. You instinctively took a step back, surprised by his intense reaction.

You shook your head, trying not to let those puppy dog eyes break you down. “How do you keep getting into my cabin?” You demanded. “And don’t give me some shit about it being unlocked. I know it was locked last night.”

He looked up, further. His eyes scanned your face. He seemed to be debating if he wanted to answer. You waited.

Finally “I… have a key.” He said, guilt lacing his words.

“A KEY?!” You practically shouted. “Where the hell did you get a key?!”

He groaned and leaned back on the couch. He ran his hand across his face. “I own it.”

Your mouth dropped open. “What does that mean?” You said slowly, dangerously.

“I, I bought the campground a few years ago.”

“You own the ENTIRE campground?!” You demanded. Your voice had started to enter dog whistle pitches.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. He buried his face in his hands. The large pillow was squished and stuck out at weird angles.

“You never came back.” He said quietly. The dam broke. “One day, you just never came back. 4 years went by and I did everything I could to find you. No one had information, no one knew how to contact you or your family. I kept coming back every year, desperate to see you again, to hear you again. But you were never here.”

He glanced up at you. You felt numb. His eyes were filled with sorrow.

“4 years after you last came they were going to shut it down. It hadn’t been doing as great and the owners were old. They told us it would be the last year. I had some money from my grandparents inheritance, and…” he shook his head at himself.

“I couldn’t let the only connection I had to you disappear. Even if you never came back, all those places we had spent time in, the feelings I had for you, here I got to live in them. I felt you everywhere. Every little memory.”

His cheeks were a deep dark green, but he seemed unable to stop the flow of words from his mouth for the first time in your entire lives.

“I made a lot of changes, put a ton of work in, and the campground is doing great now. This is my life here. I don’t run the day to day anymore, but I live here, I maintain it.”

He looked back down at the ground. “And you finally came back.”

You stood there, stunned. Long moments of uneasy silence passed between you.

“Ollie this…” you didn’t even know what to say. Panic started to rise in your throat. “This is too mu-” you heard yourself start to say it. The words you’d heard your entire life. Too much.

“I need to go.” You blurted out and turned to leave. A noise came from behind you.

Ollie grabbed your shoulder and turned you around to face him. He pushed you against the door, your back to it. He held you there with his hands against the door next to your head. His huge arms framed your face and he bent down to look at you. His face was so close.

“Please, don’t go, just listen, I-” he stuttered. Desperation filled his eyes. Frustration filled yours.

“No!” You shouted. “You don’t get to stop me. You don’t get anything!” You poked his chest, jabbing your finger accusingly. “You don’t get to reject me then tell me you’re obsessed with me!” You spat, the words cruel. You didn’t care. Your nerves were frayed. You didn’t know how to handle yourself after his confession. His obsession.

Confusion pulled his eyebrows together. “Reject you…?” He asked. You blushed. You hadn’t meant to bring that up. But apparently even now, your stupid little monkey brain could only think about that.

“Yesterday.” He still didn’t understand. “And today.” He grimaced but still seemed not to understand. You rolled your eyes and ran your hand through your hair. “You’re so dense sometimes.” You muttered.

“Yesterday, I told you… that I thought you were hot, and how turned on I was, ok? And then you just ran away.” You couldn’t look up at him not with his face so close. Not with his eyes boring into yours. Not with his lips just inches away. “And then today, you see me in skimpy clothes and run away again.” You couldn’t believe you were about to say it. “Like, I get if I’m not your type, but… I guess I just thought you felt differently ok?” You looked up into his eyes for one second before looking back down. The desperation hadn’t gone away, but it looked hungrier than before.

“This doesn’t even matter, I shouldn’t be talking about this right now.” You placed a hand on his chest and pushed softly. He didn’t move. “I need to process what you just told me, and I’m not thinking right.”

“I didn’t run away because I wasn’t into you.” He said. His voice was surprisingly hoarse. Gravel had filled his throat. You looked up in surprise. His cheeks had a new kind of heat to them. Hunger filled his eyes. But there was also fear. You could see how unsure he was.

“I ran away, both times, because I was about one second away from throwing you to the ground and fucking you.” Your breath caught. Your eyebrows pulled together slightly. You shouldn’t be so happy to hear that, you thought. He’s crazy. He’s obsessed with you. Like actually.

But he’d never hurt you.

A small voice in the back of your mind said.

“I love you.” He held your eyes. His gaze softened slightly. The hunger didn’t go though. Neither did the fear. “I always have. I could listen to you talk for the rest of my life. You’re funny, witty, gorgeous, and a bit of a dumbass.” He smirked. “I would do anything for you.” You believed him. “Just give me a chance to show you.”

He moved one hand from beside your head to rest it on your waist. He pulled himself into you. His hard chest pressed against yours, the solid door against your back. You couldn’t breathe.

You felt hot. You felt like you were standing on a knife’s blade. Fall into him, into this crazy, terrifying fantasy, or fall back into reality. What if you could make fantasy a reality? Did you even want that? Some rational part of you screamed. He had been in your home while you slept. He bought an entire huge business because he might get to see you again. He was obsessed with you. He was dangerous. How many times had he let himself in while you slept? What could he have done?

You felt yourself shaking your head before you’d decided to. You pushed your hand on his chest again. “Ollie, I need some space. I need to think.” You said.

“Please,” he begged. “Please just let me show you how well I can take care of you. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.” Some part of you wanted that to be true. Wanted him to be true. But could you handle the obsession? What if it went deeper, darker.

You shook your head again and he let out an exasperated groan. “You’re not giving me a chance.” He complained. And edge of mania had started to show in his voice and expressions. “I need to show you. If you just let me show you, then it will all be ok.” He spoke fast and low. You felt his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, then the hem of the tank top underneath.

“Ollie-” you warned.

“No, no, just, you don’t understand.” He cut you off. He leaned down and kissed your neck. You froze. “I’ve been waiting years for you. You think now that I’ve finally got you back, I’m going to let you go?” Darkness seeped at the edges of your vision as fear took hold. “That moment a month ago changed my life, and I’ve spent every second since learning about you.”

His hand on your waist tucked under your tank, and he placed it against your ribs. His hand was huge. Almost comically so. And it rested just inches from your chest. No fabric separating you any longer. All he had to do was move up.

His other hand came down to hold the back of your neck. He pressed you even harder against the door. His breath was ragged as he kissed up and down your neck and shoulder in between words.

“I know what you like. I know how you like it. I’ve watched you.” A sob wracked through your chest at that. The first time you’d reacted outwardly since he started kissing you.

“You’re so lonely. I’ve heard you cry in your bed at night. I’ve heard you beg to be loved. That’s what I want to do, baby.” He pulled back and looked deep into your eyes. “Let me love you.”

“Let me love you.” Ollies plea rang through your head. He was so close. Too close.

“Let me make you feel good, love.” He said. He pushed his knee between your legs, parting them. You gasped and wiggled but he held you firm between his hand on your waist and his arm bracing the door by your head.

You didn’t know what to do. You could scream. Somehow that felt like the wrong thing to do. You knew you weren’t thinking straight. You could feel your cunt throb against his leg.

“I want to show you how well I know you.” He nuzzled into your neck, nipping at your soft flesh. You couldn’t help the half sob, half moan that ripped from your chest. “I want to show you how well I can take care of you.” He pleaded with you. He raised his knee and ground into your clit through your clothes. You moaned and tried pushing him away. He didn’t budge.

“Please, Ollie, don’t-” you tried to beg him to let you go. Just as you started talking he reached up under your shirts and rolled his thumb over your nipple. You choked on your words.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.” He whispered into your neck. “But I thought you’d never look at me that way. Until yesterday.” He squeezed the nipple he was rolling. Your back arched instinctively and you pushed yourself into his body. He groaned.

“Everything about you is so expressive.” He practically growled. The words flowed like they’d never been stopped up before. “I used to imagine you were singing. The melody of your voice. I would play beautiful instruments in my mind worthy of keeping up with you.”

He ran his lips up your neck to your jawline. You felt him tremble slightly. He didn’t kiss you there. He just lingered. “I wished a thousand times I could talk to you. That I could open my mouth and words even half as clever as yours could fall out.”

He pulled back and looked you in the eyes. You were still pressed against him, your pussy was resting, and throbbing on his leg. His thumb rolled your nipple slowly while he spoke.

“But you didn’t force me to talk. You were ok to let me be silent. I never got to thank you for that.” You saw a pain flash through his eyes. He didn’t break eye contact and you found yourself unable to. You were surprised when your own heart throbbed at his pain. “You were… are the only person in my entire life to accept me as I am, no expectations.”

He kissed you. It was soft, warm, but just like everything else, desperate. You didn’t move for a moment. You didn’t know what to do. He kissed you harder, and you felt his anxiety rise. The panic that you weren’t going to kiss him back. You felt how badly he wanted you to kiss him back.

And then you realized, you wanted to. You wanted to kiss him. Not like this, but you did. Some where along the lines, you’d developed feelings for this huge, stupid hot, and completely crazy man. You knew it was dangerous. The fear chilled you. But the desire warmed you right back up.

Suddenly you were kissing him back. Your hands were in his hair, on his neck, his shoulders. He leaned in even further, crushing you against his chest. His other hand came down to your neck and gripped you tightly. The hand on your chest explored further, touching all of you. Just as quickly as it started, it became overwhelming.

“Ollie, stop, not like this.” You said in between kisses. You tried pushing him back again. He growled again, but this time it was frustrated, feral.

“Stop pushing me away.” His words were heavy with warning. “You want this, me. I know you do. Just let me show you how good i can be. How i can make you feel.” He spun you around faster than you could react. He pressed you against the door, his hard cock pressing into your lower back. He twisted one of your arms behind your back and held you there. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you wont give me a chance.” His other hand snaked back under your shirt and pinched your nippled, hard. You gasped. “I know you’ll love it, eventually.”

Tears started to spill from your eyes silently. You didn’t fight back. You knew there was no point. He was so much bigger and stronger than you. It was more than just that though. For some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to. If he was telling the truth, he knew exactly what kind of things you liked. You knew how wet your pussy was already. Being taken against your will was probably your number one fantasy.

BUT IT IS JUST A FANTASY

You shouted inside your mind. You should be screaming. Fighting, kicking, anything! And yet, as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, all you could do was think about how hot that was. He threw you around like you weighed nothing. And he wanted you, so badly. You had never been desired like this before. Not to these extremes.

He threw you down on his huge, orc sized bed. It was reinforced with a thick wood frame. You instinctively curled into the fetal position. The tears hadn’t stopped, even if you didn’t really feel that sad. You were in a strange state of disconnection. On one hand you logically understood how wrong this all was. How dangerous this was. What he was about to do to you. But emotionally, you couldn’t care less. You were dripping wet, and the way he felt about you gave you butterflies. The way he talked about you and his feelings for you, made you feel valuable. It wasn’t something you had experienced much in your life. What he had said about you being the only one to accept him, rang in your mind. Was he that for you? Could you accept what he was about to do to you because he was the only person you had never been too much for?

You could give him permission, you thought. Then at least it wouldn’t be r*pe. But a part of you knew no matter what happened, it still would be. And another, quieter, more insidious part knew you’d rather it be forced. To finally fulfill that deepest darkest fantasy.

Ollie stood over your curled body on his bed. “You’re so beautiful.” He muttered. He didn’t seem to be speaking to you, but about you. It made you blush regardless. What was wrong with you? He bent down and tried to pry your limbs apart. You held to yourself tightly.

“Don’t make me hurt you. I don’t want to, but you need to listen to me.” The warning had returned to his words. You didn’t relax your position, but when he tried again to move your body, you allowed it this time. “Good pet.” He purred, satisfaction lacing his voice. Your cunt throbbed at his words. He slowly raised you up to a sitting position.

“Take off your shirt, love.” He said softly, but with intent. You found yourself staring into his eyes while you crossed your arms across your chest to reach for the hem on either side. You paused. He nodded once, and you slowly pulled both shirts up and over your head. His breath caught as your chest was revealed. You were surprised to find he hadn’t stoped looking into your eyes, and after the shirt was past your face, your gazes caught again. You blushed and squirmed under his intense eye contact. Instinctively, you lifted your arms to cover your chest. He raised one eyebrow in a disapproving way and you froze. He reached out and gripped both of your forearms.

“If you can’t keep your arms down, I’m going to have to restrain them. This is your only warning.” You lowered them and he smiled. Your heart thudded in your chest, his approval suddenly the most important thing. Where had that shy boy gone? Where did this confident, dominant man taken over? He moved forward, kneeling with one knee in between your legs. He pushed you gently until you were lying on your back on the bed.

Ollie lifted one of your legs, and started tugging at the hem of your sweats. it suddenly became too much again and you bolted back up. Your hands gripped his on the cuff of your pants. “Wait,” you panicked.

Ollie sighed. “I warned you.” You didn’t understand for a moment, until he reached by the beds headboard and pulled an already attached silk tie out. One end was tied to the frame. An alarm went off in your head that you silenced immediately upon realising he’d prepared for some eventuality of tying you up. He quickly grabbed your right hand and started tying it tightly to the headboard. Now the panic really set in. It was too real. You started crying in earnest, blabbering and begging. You weren’t coherent. Even you didn’t know what you were saying.

It was too late.

With one hand tied, he snatched the other and repeated. You pulled and wiggled, but he clearly knew what he was doing. The ties were soft, and not tight enough to hurt, but the knots themselves were solid. He returned to slowly removing your pants.

“Please Ollie, it’s not too late, you can stop still.” You pleaded. You honestly didn’t know if you meant it or not.

“Baby, you know I can’t stop.” He replied in a patronizing voice. “I need you, don’t you understand that?” He pulled the sweatpants fully off, and you were left in only your little shorts that were basically underwear. The cold air answered the reality you had been dreading. You were soaked. Your shorts definitely had a wet spot. And if you somehow hadn’t been sure already, the look of pure, animalistic satisfaction that spread over Ollies face, solidified it.

“I knew you’d like it.” He said smugly. “I told you, i know what you like.” He leaned forward, knee in between your legs again. He brought his face next you yours and whispered in your ear. ‘I know you’re a desperate slut, just begging to be fucked into oblivion.” He placed his huge palm against your clothed cunt. The heat was tangible. “Luckily for you, I’m happy to oblige.” He teased. His voice cavalier and excited. It was like he couldn’t understand how far past ok he had gone. He raised his hand from your cunt and brought it back down in a swift, hard smack. You cried out, not able to stifle yourself. It devolved into a long drawn out moan. “You can’t lie to me, beautiful.”

He turned and kissed you, hard, frantically. His hands roamed over your body. He ground his knee up into your clit again. Your breath hitched as you tried desperately not to moan again. He pulled himself away and looked down at your still clothed pussy. He looked mesmerized.

Ollie slowly hooked his fingers in the waistband and tugged down. You pushed your ass into the bed, trying to keep the shorts from pulling down. He glanced up at you, a look of impatience on his face. “Lift.” He demanded. You relented. The shorts peeled from your skin, highlighting just how wet you were. You squirmed in embarrassment both from the exposure and the fact you were dripping. He folded the shorts and tucked them into his pants pocket. You didn’t miss that he had tossed all of your other clothes.

He leaned forward, hand reaching for you, but you started wiggling violently, trying to close your legs. “Wait, wait, Ollie, no you need-” He stopped and smacked your inner thigh, hard. You cried out, the tears redoubling. You pulled at your restraints and tried to push your legs from their positions on either side of him. He held them down.

“Do you need me to tie your legs up too?” He said condescendingly. You cried, not answering. “Hmm? And maybe a gag too?” He started leaning back, reaching for something behind him.

“No no no no, Ollie, that’s not what i mean, stop, just listen to me a second.” You begged. You sighed with relief when he paused and looked back at you.

“It’s just...” You started, then suddenly felt shy. He waited. “It’s just, you can’t touch me… yet.” He cocked his head, clearly perplexed. You wished you could hide your face. “You can’t.. I can’t…” He held your eyes, not giving you an out. “I can’t be the only one naked.” You spat out finally.

You don’t think you could ever describe the look that crossed his face then. You understood you were basically giving him permission now. And you were no longer fighting it in any way but for show. He had you, and he knew it. Thankfully, he didn’t rub it in your face.

Ollie leaned back up, until he was resting on his own legs, bent and still in between your open thighs. He smirked as he pulled his shirt up and over his head. You’d see him shirtless many times. It was a campground with a beach after all. But this time, with the settings, the circumstances, it was much more intense. The daylight filtered in through a window, and no other lights were on. Thin curtains stopped anyone from seeing inside, but did little for the light. He was muscular and toned, the light rays almost illuminating him. He was beautiful, and not overly ripped, but clearly did a lot of physical work.

The green of his skin was slightly paler than on his arms, but was replaced with a surprising amount of freckles. You hadn’t really noticed them before, but now that he was so close and you were hyper aware of everything, you saw how his skin was covered with tiny, barely visible freckles.

He started undoing the buttons on his pants. His cock was visibly hard through them. Your breath caught. You squirmed at the idea of being utterly taken by him. He hooked his thumbs under the hem of both his pants and boxers. He leaned up as if to pull them down, but stopped and raised and eyebrow.

“What do you want?” He asked, his voice leaving no room for defiance.

“Wh… what?” You asked.

“What do you want?” He asked again, enunciating each word.

“I…” you couldn’t believe he was making you say it. “I want you to take off your clothes.” You said, finally. “Please.”

He sighed hearing that, and continued pulling them down. His hard dick sprang out and it was huge just like everything else about him. You were halfway between excited and terrified. You didn’t think it would fit.

“Don’t worry love” he said, reading your expression. “We will get you nice and ready first.” He leaned over your body, his chest pressing onto yours. His dick rested against your thigh. He leaned in to your ear and whispered “and I’m not going to fuck you until you ask me to.”

He sunk two fingers deep into your cunt with no warning.

You cried out and arched your back. His fingers alone were probably thicker than any cock you’d taken. His eyes were glued on your face. 

“I love you so much. I’ve been in love with you my entire life. I tried dating other people, I tried letting them in, but I couldn’t. I always compared them to you.” He spoke softly as he fucked his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt. 

“I never felt safe enough to open up, and then there you were. Finally back. At first I was scared you wouldn’t recognize me. But you did. Then I was scared you wouldn’t like me, but you did. It was just like we were kids again. I almost kissed you that day.” You tried focusing on his words while he lazily thrusted into you. He was clearly not trying to make you cum. Just rile you up. You squirmed under his touch and words. It felt strange and alien to have someone want you so much. 

“I spent years telling myself if I ever saw you again, I’d talk. I’d tell you everything. About myself, about my feelings. But then I saw you, and I was a kid again. A dumb kid with a crush and no ability to do anything about it.” He kissed your neck and chest while he spoke. You felt worshipped. “It didn’t make it any easier that you’re just ridiculously attractive.” You gripped the ties holding your wrists. The fear was bleeding out of you with every word. 

His tone shifted. “I know I fucked up, I know I’m not… not a good person, I’m so sorry.” He sounded genuine. A pain you didn’t expect, while he was fingering you no less, laced his tone. You believed him, despite his apparent unwillingness to stop. 

“Ollie,” you said breathlessly. He paused his kissing and looked up at you. “We,” you moaned between your words. “We can talk about that shit later, ok?” You found yourself smiling at his dumb face. 

It was that moment you realised you might be just as crazy as he was. You wanted him to fuck you. It didn’t matter to you that a few moments ago you were crying and begging him to stop. You wanted him. You were pretty sure it wasn’t just because you were desperately writhing on his fingers. Pretty sure. 

He smiled back and slowed his movements until he stopped altogether. He didn’t say anything and just looked down at you, smiling like a fool. You whimpered and ground yourself against his fingers. He groaned in response. 

“I can’t believe you thought I wasn’t into you.” He teased. 

“I can’t believe a lot of things, ok? I’m a self conscious idiot, and you might be a crazy stalker, I haven’t decided yet.” He chuckled and thrusted his fingers deep into you, once. You moaned loudly. 

“Please.” You said, almost by accident. A dark, hungry look covered his face. 

“Please what, beautiful?” His voice had lost all joviality. He was dead serious now. The words he’d been waiting his entire life for, were so close. 

You squirmed on his fingers. He stayed still, staring into your eyes. “Ollie…” you trailed off. You looked away from him. You knew he was going to make you say it, but you really didn’t want him to. You felt embarrassed begging for him. 

“Please say it.” He asked quietly. You were surprised by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. Your eyes dragged back to his and you could easily see the precipice he sat on. A similar one you teetered on earlier. One simple sentence and you both could have everything. Fall into the reality of what he’d done, into the messy, scary world of pushing everything good away to hold a place for the bad he’d done and the way he’d hurt you. And he had hurt you. Or, you could both plunge into the fantasy, the dream, the feelings you’d longed for your whole lives. To belong. To be loved. To be accepted as you were. 

You took a steadying breath. You could see he was trying to not react yet, but the fear and worry in his brow was unmistakable. “Ollie, what you did wasn’t ok. And how you handled this wasn’t right. I honestly don’t know how to forgive you.” 

His face fell. He didn’t look upset with you. 

“But,” his breath caught as you continued. “I’d like to try.” You smiled softly at him. Your heart throbbed as he hesitantly smiled back at you. 

“Please, for the love of gods, please fuck me.” You spoke with conviction. 

He didn’t waste time. In seconds his huge fingers were replaced with his huge cock. He teased your entrance, coating his dick in your wetness. He leaned forward and kissed you deeply. It wasn’t desperate any longer. It was passionate and hungry and eager. 

He slid the tip of his cock into you and you groaned at the stretch. “Fuck you’re tight.” He practically breathed into your ear. 

“You’re so big.” You whined out. 

“I know you can take me, baby.” He peppered your face with kisses while he pushed further. His breath hitched as he claimed another inch. He was moving painstakingly slow. You knew he was doing it for you, to not hurt you any further, but he was also driving you crazy. Every bit he sunk into you, you were desperate for more. You wanted to be absolutely filled but him, to be taken and owned. You wanted his powerful body ramming into yours. 

You squirmed and tried pushing back against his cock. Ollie raised an eyebrow. “Please…” you trailed off. 

“Are you ready?” He asked, incredulous. You nodded and chewed on your lip. You gazed up at him above you. His eyes were heavy lidded and his face was flushed. He was so beautiful. He smiled down at you and gently cupped your cheek. 

And then he was inside you. He thrust the rest of the way, in one, hard push. You screamed, fear at being heard forgotten. He chuckled and covered your mouth with his hand. It dwarfed your face. He held your jaw while he pulled out and sunk back in. 

He set a brutal pace, pounding into you. The extreme stretch started feeling more comfortable and your screams turned to moans behind his hand. Ollie pressed his fingers against your lips and you opened your mouth. Two thick fingers played with your tongue. He worked them deep to the back of your throat. He held them there, slightly gagging you on them. He smirked. 

“Say it again.” His tone teasing but his eyes serious. 

“Say wha-at” you sputtered out between thrusts and his fingers. His smirk twisted the other way and he frowned slightly. His pace slowed and after a couple more thrusts, he stopped moving. He pulled his fingers from your mouth. “Why…” you panted. 

“Ask me to fuck you.” His eyes lit up at the prospect. 

“You just were, why did you stop?” You complained and ground your hips into his. He snapped his hands tight to your waist and held you in place. “Ollie…” you whined. You gave him the best doe eyes you could. 

“I told you what I want.” His voice was stern but you could read his amusement. He liked seeing you desperate for him. 

“Why do you keep making me say embarrassing things?!” You demanded. You tried moving on his still deep cock once more and his grip tightened to a painful extent. You’d have bruises for sure. 

“Keep saying them.” He leaned forward to suck on your neck. You gasped as he worked a dark hickey into your skin. You whined without words, desperately trying to instigate his movement again. He held you tight, moving down your neck to your chest, leaving a line of deepening bruises in his wake. 

You realised he wasn’t going to let you out of saying it before you finally actually started talking. You tried putting it off as long as possible but he wasn’t wrong when he said he knew how to make you feel good. You were getting past desperate and moving to unashamed and wanton. 

Finally, “Please Ollie, please fuck me.” He grinned against your skin. You didn’t stop. A string of only semi coherent pleas spilled from your lips. “I want to feel you cum in me, I want to feel you wreck me.” Some part of you still held onto that embarrassment, but mostly you didn’t care anymore. And Ollie loved it. The most beautiful sounds in the worlds were of you begging for him. 

He snapped his hips back into motion and your pleas shifted to half moaned words and expletives. You had been brought close and denied, your pleasure slowly building but never releasing, and whether he meant to or not, he had you at the brink in moments. 

Your orgasm ripped through you with almost no warning. You cried out his name and gripped his back, nails digging in like claws. Your passion threw him over the edge as well and he trapped your lips in a rough kiss as you felt his hot cum flood your insides. You felt more full than you even thought possible. 

You rode out your orgasms locked tightly together, his hips stuttering as the last few ropes filled your already full cunt. Everything that had happened, the emotions, the hormones, wiped your mind right out, and before he had even pulled out, you were dozing in Ollie's arms underneath him. 

**********

You woke, apparently hours later, since no light came through the windows. The room was dim, but the door was open and light spilled through from somewhere else. You were wrapped in Ollies massive bed, several blankets layered on and around you, pillows framing your body. It was like a cozy nest and you snuggled in deeper. 

The smell of food wafted in from the rest of the home and you thought you heard low humming. You couldn’t help grinning to yourself. You had a hot, huge half orc making you food after railing you? Yeah, you could get used to that. 

You heard soft steps coming towards the room and you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to stay in this moment for a little bit longer. You heard Ollie pause at the door. He stood there for a few moments, not saying anything. Did he know you were awake?

You opened one eye just the barest amount, just so you could see. You hoped it wasn’t obvious. You told yourself it was dark in the room. You could see Ollie’s form, arms crossed over his broad chest. He leaned against the doorframe, face split with a wide smile. You still couldn’t tell if he knew you were awake. 

He stood like that for longer than you’d expected. Long enough that your pretend sleeping became real. You drifted in and out, hovering right between awake and asleep. 

You surfaced as you felt Ollie’s lips gently press into your forehead. You nuzzled against his face, and his breath caught. Ollie’s fingers danced along your jaw as you slipped back under. 

[billybatsonbrainrot]

Can you do 4 or 9 please?

Part 2 of Goodbye Marvel: What does the Justice League think about this? (Part 1 is the post below this)

After Billy decides to quit being Captain Marvel, he realizes that means he's quitting the Justice League as well. No more monitor duty, meetings, patrol, and going on missions that lasts for days, sometimes weeks. He never realized how much time being Captain Marvel took from him. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't have much of a personal life before any of this; he spent more time as Cap then he did himself. Well, it was time to change that.

Billy doesn't outright quit the League. He knows it would be easier to tell them, but he doesn't want to confront them after lying to them all this time. They would probably be more understanding if he had told them about his identity in the first place. And he's still not turning into Captain Marvel because he's wary of what the gods would do.

Instead, Billy sneaks out one night and goes deep into the woods in Fawcett City with a shovel and a shoebox containing his JL communicator. He digs a hole that takes hours while he's having conflicting emotions, he feels sorrow and resentment at the same time. Is he really doing this? Yes, he is. He buries the shoebox several feet under the ground and leaves. But not before saying a few words, having a makeshift funeral for his dead alter ego.

Meanwhile, the Justice League start to wonder where Captain Marvel has gone. He has not been seen in weeks. When the weeks turn into months, they start to worry. His absence does not go unnoticed in the hero community nor the public.

Eventually, they got to a point where they have to go looking for him. They track down his comm and to their surprise it shows it's in Fawcett, Cap's city but no captain in sight. They all go down there to see what's going on. They're led deep into the depths of some woods close to the city and they find nothing.

Everyone spreads out to look for clues. It's not until Batman points out a patch on the ground that looks freshly dug up that Superman uses his x-ray vision to look down and finds the Captain's comm buried inside a shoebox. They're able to dig it up in no time and Batman is able to confirm that it is indeed his. But what is it doing there? Did Cap bury it? For what reason?

With Captain Marvel's comm in their hands, they realize that there is no way to have their questions answered if they have no way to find him. That's when they have the idea to call Zatanna. Maybe she has a spell that shows what events happened in this forest. And she does.

When she gets there, she points out that there was a strong magical aura left in the area and it will take her a while to do the spell. They wonder if it's Cap's, maybe he was the one who buried his comm. But when Zatanna performs the spell, they see a small, hooded figure instead. They see him dig the hole and placing the box there and burying it, but they are unable to see his face because of the hood and it being nighttime when it happened. It's obviously a child. The figure finally finishes and stays there for a moment in total silence. It's when he starts talking that they are left frozen in shock. They can't believe the words coming out of the kid's mouth.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, captain. You used to be the best part of my life" He started off.

"I looked forward to seeing you more than anyone else, even myself at one point. You really were a ray of light in the darkness. You were able to make everyone's day better, but not mine." The league stared at him confused.

"You ended up being more trouble than your worth. You only bring chaos with you" Some league members gave him a look of disapproval.

"I think... I'm glad I got rid of you" That got everyone's attention

"My life actually improved now that you're gone. And I think that's kind of funny. I would have said the opposite about a year ago." What the hell is this kid even saying?

"Your responsibilities only caused disturbance to my life" That caused more confusion. Why would Cap's hero duties cause a disturbance? Was the kid secretly a villain?

"The only thing that will be a nuisance now is the fact that everyone will probably be worrying about where you've gone. But they won't be able to find anything" Some members got a stern look on their face.

"I have no doubt that the Justice League would come looking for you. But I think I'll just give it a few months before they stop looking. Were you even that great of a hero?" Who did this kid think he is? The league members got angered on the captain's behalf.

"Well, you were my hero. Even if I was the one that made you disappear, I'm still going to miss you" How dare he? A ghost of smile can be seen on face when he turned towards the moonlight. But the upper half of his face was still not visible. Oh, how they wanted to smack that smile off his face.

The words that came out of his mouth was like a messed-up eulogy. The kid started off praising Captain Marvel to degrading him, calling him a nuisance.

"Goodbye Marvel" are the last words he says before he turned around and left. Zatanna's spell stops there, unable to track him any further.

The league has no idea who the kid is or what kind of relationship he had with Captain Marvel, but they are certain of one thing: the kid was responsible Cap's disappearance. He killed Captain Marvel.

Some of the heroes were still in denial. There's no way they couldn't save one of their own. No way Cap would lose to some kid. Maybe the kid just thinks he killed Captain Marvel. But he had magic strong enough that not even Zatanna can track him down. And he was right about them not being able to find anything. He made Captain Marvel disappear off the face of the earth without any of them knowing.

Most of them left in tears that day.

A day later, they're all in the meeting room discussing yesterday's events and their newfound piece of knowledge.

Zatanna says something that ignites hope in them. Captain Marvel can't be dead because he was the Champion of Magic, a title the league doesn't know much about, but Zatanna assures them that if Cap really dead, the world as they know it would be thrown in complete chaos and destruction. However, there were cases where the Champion would be sealed away in a magical prison by powerful magical beings.

So, the kid did not kill Cap. To be fair, he didn't say that he did, just that he got rid of him. Maybe he was referring to sealing the captain away. That still angered them. How dare he do such an awful thing to Cap. He did nothing to deserve this! He was the sweetest person anyone could ever meet!

They hoped they could find him soon. Zatanna said some champions were locked away for centuries.

If they are able to find the kid, Zatanna would be able to assess his magic level and see if he was a threat. They could get answers as to where he hid the captain and why he did it.

The Justice League had a new goal. Find the kid and get answers. Some of them weren't above kicking his ass.

[comfy-whumpee]

The Box

@bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @rosesareviolentlyread, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @burtlederp, @mylifeisonthebookshelf

Josephina Engels sits with the box.

When she is at her kitchen table, eating cold pasta from Saturday night’s batch cooking session, she sits with the box. Its cardboard is slightly bent around the corners, the brown colouring uneven where it must have spent time in the sunlight. The lid fits snugly on, unadorned. It’s an odd box. It must be the kind that was bought just to be a box, not repurposed and reused as most boxes are. It has no personality except a little wear and tear.

When she is at her desk, messaging friends and working on her heritage research, she sits with the box. It is buried at the base of the family tree she sketches out, neat lines tracking siblings and marriages, dates written in pencil as she discovers them. The story of her family opens out with her at the centre, the middle child of three. B. 1849, she writes, after scrolling through handwritten records scanned two decades ago. B for born. M for married. D for death.

When she is half-curled across her sofa with a book open in her hands, she sits with the box. The stories she likes are historical romances, where the steps towards courtship are subtle and mild, and the barriers are antiquated and unrelatable. She turns the pages with a finger, slow over the paper. She loses herself in another time and another country, but the box is always in her mind.

When she is out with friends, the box is there. When she goes to work, the box is there. It’s under her seat on the train. It’s tucked amongst the street furniture when she walks. She feels like she should be carrying it around with her, never once letting it out of her sight. A little shoebox like that, and one that hasn’t even held shoes, should be unremarkable. But it won’t let go of her.

After a long day at work, where spreadsheet grids are burned into her eyes and her head throbs with each glare from each passing pair of headlights, she comes home to it. She drinks a glass of wine with dinner. She reads. She researches. She returns to it.

It makes her feel sick just by existing. Pulling it out is worse. Opening the lid is enough to make her feverish, her heart running wild and her blood rising to he surface. She glances at the curtains, closed. She resists the urge to check over her shoulder.

Her vision blurs as she reaches in. Her fingers flinch from the soft plastic of the toothbrush grip, as if its slight yield is cold flesh. Her fingers skim over the splintering wood of a roughly-sharpened pencil. Then they slide over paper.

She closes her eyes tightly enough to worsen her headache. She swallows each breath, fighting back a sob or a scream. She pulls out a random piece of paper from the pile. Some sheets are whole. Some are scraps, torn into halves or quarters. Some are folded, sharper corners pricking her fingertips. If they draw blood, she could sleep for a thousand years. She could wake up when all of this, and whatever it becomes, is ancient history.

She unfolds the paper. Her thumbs find the tiny indents of the writing, and feel the smooth, dusty graphite. She can feel her stomach pushing up against her ribs in rebellion.

She owes it to him to look.

Through swimming eyes, she can see it.

1. I must always obey Master.

She huffs out a lurching breath. It doesn’t get easier. It doesn’t ever, ever change. The grief twists and spasms and writhes, but some days the leech of it is weak and placid, clawless. This is what never fades.

Her stomach rebels against the words.

2. I must never question Master.

She’s sweating, or shivering, hot and cold. She should ask someone over to take care of her, but who could she ask? This is a whole other world to her colleagues and friends. Her parents don’t deserve this burden. Her sister has already faced too much.

Josie is the one who has to hold the box.

3. I must kneel and submit to Master.

God. She knows what it sounds like, when she reads that.

4. I must always address you as Master.

She tries to breathe. The words are true, and real, and held between her hands. No matter how badly they jar and splinter against the memories in her head, this is her reminder of how wrong she was. How wrong they all were.

5. I must make no noise unless invited to by Master.

She lets the paper fall, her legs pushing her back from the box. She needs a break. She needs to stop getting sucked into this endless, eternal spiral. Every time she opens the box, if she even thinks too hard about it, she ends up here.

She rubs her wet cheeks with the palms of her hands. Why did this have to happen? Why did it have to be so close to her, and hurt so much?

There is nobody who can know. Nobody. Her brother’s memory depends on it, this secret she keeps in his shoebox. She can’t imagine ever saying it aloud. My brother was a monster. The details are too lurid, a horror story she lives inside. He banned his captive from making noise, so even when we were there outside, he didn’t call for help.

Marcie doesn’t talk about it anymore. Mum refuses to believe it. Dad clings to excuses. None of them want to know about the box. Josie was the only one who looked inside it, and she took it home to hide it, and the truth it held. She thought she was protecting them.

Even so, she can’t stop herself opening it, grasping the weapon to hurt herself over and over. Her eyes are drawn back to the paper. She can see the numbers continue down the page. Every piece of paper in the box has the same message.

She doesn’t need to read them anymore to know. She can remember the key parts. I must ask Master for permission. I must treasure Master’s touch. I must always thank Master for punishment.

Sometimes, she thinks that she should destroy it. It doesn’t make any difference, of course. The evidence was burned into his skin. She could, maybe, protect his memory from the world. She could let these details go unknown. The nauseating everydayness of the toothbrush, a reminder that he was there for years. The confessional pages of these rules, transcribed on repeat.

Why him? Why her brother? How could he do that to them? And how could he do that to someone? Josie has looked him up online, has read his missing person reports, and has watched the statement from his mother that she gave on his birthday. Ellis was a gentle, kind boy, who never hurt anyone.

She could still remember his smile, when Marcie had found him in the cupboard. She remembered his words. She hadn’t known his name until much later, because he didn’t give it.

12. I am Master’s pet and I need to be kept.

She puts the lid back on the box and crawls into bed.

[oldfangirl30]

I don’t know what to title this. I haven’t written anything in years and have been inspired after watching The Night Agent. I don’t even know where this will go but I wanted to write something and post it to see if people would be interested. It doesn’t involve Rose. At least not right now. Completely different story line. 🤗 also sorry, it’s kind of long. I got carried away. And apologies for any mistakes!

Part 1:

There were very few things I wanted to be doing on a Saturday night. Sitting in an apartment watching a cat clean itself, listening to loud dance music and waiting to leave this hot shoebox apartment I was currently stuck in, was not one of them. After 5 weeks of desk duty I was finally placed with protection duty. Unfortunately it was specifically protecting one of the most difficult clients you could possibly have as an agent.

Emma Wilson.

Her mother was one of the most well known and loved politicians the country has had since that one guy (whom we won’t name) but there were still those who couldn’t be trusted. This girl refused to believe she needed surveillance but as a 28 year old woman with both parents being politicians, it was required. Especially now that her mother was the president.

It was roughly 11:30 and Emma was getting ready to go out with her friends to a club. A club that I personally would try to steer clear from if I were to be a normal civilian and went out on Saturday nights. Between the drugs and location of the club, I did everything I could to steer clear but alas. Emma was known for attending parties and events in places she had no business going but her friends were often persuading her into attending. She was rebellious and stubborn. Kind of fitting considering she was a daughter to parents in the political spotlight.

So, this meant that there would be double the agents and I just so happened to be the one of them going tonight. My partner, Agent Jenkins was helping along with Agent Parker however they don’t know Emma like I do so I have been tasked with watching her every move.

It had been roughly 2 hours since she had started to get ready and her friend, Alicia, was running in and out of the bedroom and the kitchen. Often carrying a bottle of liquor in her hand. I got up from the hard chair I had been sitting in and went to knock on her door to see when we were leaving.

“Ma’am. Can I get an estimated time that we will be leaving here. My guys have been waiting for about 2 hours.”

She opened the door wearing a skimpy black dress and her blonde hair was loosely curled flowing down her tanned shoulders. Her piercing blue eyes gave me a curt stare.

“You don’t have to call me ma’am.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Wilson. It’s just habit I guess.”

“Yeah we’ll break out of it. It makes me feel like an old woman.”

Alicia came to the door, already reeking of tequila. “You know, you’re way too cute to be calling her ma’am like an old lady.”

I couldn’t help but to laugh cause she was clearly drunk. My face flushed slightly and I nervously scratched my neck.

“I think we are almost ready. Hey Peter, what shoes should I wear?”

She had never called me Peter. It felt weird. She was holding up two pairs of heels for me to choose from.

“Whichever ones you will feel comfortable in.”

“Ugh you’re being too practical.” She pulled out some strapped high heels in which she would no doubt be taking off later to hand to me to keep up with.

Approximately 5 weeks ago I was navigating the streets of Istanbul until I tore my shoulder trying to catch a guy I had been working for weeks to locate.

My boss, Erin Akers, pulled me out when she got word of my injury and that our guy had fled.

Alicia yelled from down the hallway pulling me out of my thoughts, “vamos a La club yevala!”

From here on the rest of the night was bound to be interesting.

I knew my assignment would be different coming back but I didn’t know I was going to be like secret service detail for the new first daughter. In a way, I felt off about it. Kind of like ‘why me?’. My boss assured me it would be temporary but I had spent almost a month watching this girls every move in the evening. Some nights she would come in, and wouldn’t acknowledge my existence. Almost like her stress from the day kept her in overdrive. There were other nights she would bring me takeout and go directly to her room. I would hear her bedroom TV blasting and the occasional phone call but I mostly keep to myself. I don’t know what she does for her job, just that she works in healthcare. I could easily find out but figured if I knew everything then, conversations would be boring. That is if we ever have conversation. There were things I was certain of though.

She is very mindful of having a routine. After dinner she feeds her cat, tidies up the apartment (as I try to stay out of the way), gets ready for bed, and at 9:30 on a weeknight she is in bed. It explains why her weekends are so crazy. She keeps her apartment spotless and incredibly warm. There have been nights I have considered completely stripping myself to my underwear but I know that would be highly inappropriate. So it sit in her living room most nights, I Watch her complete her routine (but not in a creepy manner) and make sure she’s protected.

——

“Jenkins. Parker. Let’s go over the plan for the night. I’ll go in with Ms Wilson and have you two follow suit. Two other agents will be located at both the entrance and exit. If anything happens tonight, I will have the two of you give me backup. Try to blend in. Don’t make yourself known. Any questions?”

They both nodded and tapped their ear pieces showing they were set for the night. Emma and Alicia were in a car ahead with myself, Jenkins and Parker following closely behind.

Club Yevala was a new club with a secret location and those that went, primarily went for the easy access to drugs. But I only just learned this. Again, not the place Emma Wilson should be socializing but she’s an adult and can make her own decisions as to where she parties.

It was a club that the FBI has been closely monitoring due to potential drug cartels. I know Emma doesn’t do participate as I have heard her tell her friends she’s strongly against drugs, however she plays along and it’s caused her to be in situations she never should be in.

I was wearing my nicest button up and pants with no tie. Trying to fit in with the crowd wasn’t too hard, I just had to make sure my gun and badge wouldn’t show unexpectedly.

I was sitting at a bar stool sipping on a gin and tonic when Emma came up to me. She was sweating but her hair still looked perfect and her face glowed from the sheen of her sweat . She looked great in all honesty.

“Can you hold my bag for like 2 seconds? I don’t trust these bar counter tops.” Her breath smelt strongly of alcohol. I couldn’t help but to laugh to myself at her comment.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Peter, stop calling me ma’am. It’s fucking weird.”

“Sorry Ms. Wilson—“

“And don’t call me that either. Call me Em, or Emma.” Her eyes grew big and she flung her hand around as if to swat off my words.

I nodded to acknowledge her request. Her small bag was sitting in my lap and she was rummaging through it to find something. Finally she found her lip gloss and told me to hold her phone while she applied it. This is what I meant by difficult. She had a friend that could do these things for her but would often ask me. I couldn’t find it in myself to tell her no. I was just the guy who was supposed to be invisible and watching from a distance. Protecting her.

“You see that guy over there?” She pointed to a man dancing in the middle of the floor who had slicked back hair and was wearing a chain necklace and a button up floral shirt. I nodded.

“I’m going to make out with him tonight.”

I grimaced at how close she was to me when she exhaled her plans. Part of me wanted to interject but I couldn’t. Mainly because I kept looking at the guy she was referring to and also because I kept smelling the drinks she had been hammering on her breath.

She sauntered off leaving me with her bag.

“Emma wait!” She couldn’t hear me over the loudness of the music. I knew she had her phone on her. She always tucked it into her dress. Don’t ask how I know that.

What I mean is, I can easily track her if needed and I’m keeping my eyes on her.

She and Alicia were dancing with two men, one of which Emma reported she was going to make out with. I was sipping on my remaining gin and tonic.

“Everything ok Sutherland?” I heard Jenkins in my ear.

“Yeah, all good. Just a little makeup adjustment.” I assumed he had seen me talking to Emma.

As I was sipping my drink I felt a presence next to me. A female, roughly aged 30 was ordering a drink.

“Can I get a rum and coke? And I’ll get him one of what he’s having.”

It took me a second to register she was talking to me.

“Oh no, I’m fine. Thank you though.” She saw me staring looking at the dance floor. I wasn’t going to take my eyes off Emma for long. I knew to keep my distance.

“Is that your girl or something?”

“Huh? Oh no, uhhh it’s my sister. I’m just keeping an eye on her.” That was a horrible lie.

“Well, I don’t think that’s your sister but I do know one thing. She’s definitely trying to make you jealous.”

“Oh…no I don’t think so. She’s just a little drunk.”

“Take it from a girl who has made her ex jealous many times in this place. She keeps looking at you even though she’s dancing with that guy. I know all the tricks in the book. She said she was going to make out with that guy?I heard her tell you that. Please. Look at him. He’s clearly a scum bag drug dealer.” This girl knew her shit. And based on her comments I knew I needed to change my view on what was going on tonight.

Something inside me began to bubble and I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that it might have actually been jealousy. And this guy. Yeah, he wasn’t getting near her if I had anything to do with it.

Emma was grinding and running her hands through her hair while this guy grabbed her hips and pulled her against him. I couldn’t go running out there and grab her and leave but I knew if I didn’t step in, she’d be drugged and taken to this guys place.

Parts of me grew hot and I don’t think it was the drink. I decided it was time to get out of the club and take her home.

“Jenkins, Parker, I am getting Ms Wilson and we are going home.”

“Everything ok sir?”

“Yeah, I’m just worried about this guy she’s dancing with. Don’t want to risk anything.”

“Copy that. We will meet you out front.”

I walked slowly through the crowd of people to meet Emma and Alicia.

“Emma, it’s time to go.”

“What? No, I’m having too much fun and Alicia isn’t ready to go!”

I let out an exhaustive breath and tried again, this time getting closer to her and wrapping my arm around her waist. The sleazy guy noticed and got closer to us, “we need to get you out of here right now. I’ll explain later.”

She looked me directly in the eyes and I swear I felt her breath catch. “What about Alicia?”

“She can come or get a ride back.”

“Hey man, why don’t you back off her and let us continue having our fun. I’ll make sure she gets home safely.” The guy butted in between us, completely smelling like every alcohol you could think of. He placed his hands on my chest trying to push me away but I’m pretty solid and he was very scrawny.

“Peter, I’m not leaving.”

Another guy stepped in, “hey, why don’t you leave her alone. She doesn’t want to go.”

The situation was getting me heated and I had to think quick. I grabbed my badge and flashed it to the guys, “how about you let me take her or I will report you guys for spiking drinks and have you arrested.”

They both backed off and Emma stormed off the dance floor. I followed behind and moved rather quickly, still holding on to her bag. The ride home was going to be fun.

——

[valeriasfragments]

The Rigors And the Heft - Part 1

She was born a mad woman, mad as Mae, mad as Arla, mad as Lærke. Mad as all of them, maybe more. She lost count the number of times she lost her mind, lost down the rabbit hole with Alice, down the well with Sadako. Not many people wake up in an irrigation ditch at 11 years old with their pants around their ankles without going mad from time to time.

Regaining her sanity (as if), in the ruins of her life, shredded by her own hands, bloody boney things, hateful things. No excuse powerful enough to undo the curses cast from her own maddend hands. They say we hurt the ones we love the most and she was efficient.

Years of this cycle and Chance has run herself aground, a bloated whale corpse heart ready to burst with rot. Laying on this beach of a bed wracked by nightmare after nightmare, screaming awake on an air mattress with a leak, she wakes up every few hours and reinflates it in the dark of her room while the anxiety of her nightmares drains away.

She wakes when she dreams, she sleeps when she wakes, she stays up the whole night. She takes the little green and blue capsules when she starts to hallucinate at the edges of her vision. Hydroxyzine Pamoate to dull her mind and lull her to sleep, she's stockpiled more than a lethal dose, though she has never even thought of doing that, probably very painful anyway.

She rolls out of bed and onto the filthy carpet, half deflated bed like arms of a desperate lover who can't get enough. Stark angry noonday sun lancing through the crack in her beige lifeless curtains to ensure she is awake. The same drapery supplied with the apartment 10 years ago, never bothered to replace them either, apathy was her favorite interior decorator.

Just 24 hours prior she was in Kansas on the threshold of her aunt Arla's single wide mobile home, maroon and white corrugated aluminum shoebox similar to the one Chance grew up in. Two big windows on the front like doe eyes, a barren planter box, and a carport filled with dozens and dozens of 30 quart rubber bins.

The smell of the dead woman is thick in the air, she's wearing two masks and still has the urge to vomit, it's a smell that doesn't leave her for days. Not even the first dead body Chance has smelled, though her aunt was taken away 2 days ago, he stinking days old rot still clung to the air.

How does one begin to even go through a mad woman's hoarded possessions? A life of clutter accumulated in every nook and cranny, barely a walkable path though the trailer.

The hallway lined with National Geographic magazines from floor to ceiling, they have congealed from an unfixed leak, the soggy paper shape of a stack of magazines. There's even a perfect handprint in the paper wall where an EMT mistakenly put their hand.

The floor in the back bedroom squelches under foot and sags in the middle, a putrid smelling mattress with decomposing bits of her aunt's body, a shit river stain and a floor covered in never been clean clothes and half filled bags of trash.

One end of the room is a closet that dominates the wall, inside it is full of boxes, some collapsing, and others with odious stains on the corners. The dresser built into the wall had no drawers, in fact Chance couldn't even find them anywhere on the premises.

The other wall is a gaping hole where the fire department cut out the death trap horizontal slot windows, the type long out of style and only found on older models without any renovations. The hole is lined by cancerous pink cotton candy that Chance's intrusive thoughts keep telling her would be a good idea to eat.

Chance finds nothing in the house worth saving but she does spend a few hours i going through the tubs in the carport. She dug out a copy of Mysterious New England from 1971, a ratty later edition of Prometheus Rising by Robert Anton Wilson, a cat skull, some small glass bottles with cork stoppers, things her mom would call "witchy shit" oh and Dino Crisis for the Playstation, her crazy aunt contained multitudes.

She would be kinder to her aunt's memory if she hadn't been so cruel, her mad woman aunt who talked to the dead and heard their voices. Chance's kindness long lost because of a knife at her throat, a gun to her head, and the constant stream of verbal abuse that made it hard to function.

Now jetlagged Chance is on her bedroom floor, her clothes covered floor, just like her aunt and her grandma and her mother too. Everyone's mad in her family, a long line of mad women as far as she can remember. Chance and her mother are the first generation to never be committed but that isn't a very high bar to clear in these supposedly more enlightened times (yeah right).

Chance retrieves the pack of clove cigarettes from the pocket of her jeans on the floor, flips it open, retrieves a single clove wrapped in black paper, and places it between her lips still caked with last night's lipstick, a cheap black from the drugstore, a small cheap comfort she allows herself.

She lights the clove cigarette and takes a short, quick pull from it. The aroma hits her nose and she is immediately taken back to that first kiss, to the girl who smelled of patchouli and cloves, and left a taste in her mouth for the rest of her life, the kiss never forgotten, a soul moving kiss nobody had ever duplicated, almost against her will, the girl who smells like heaven or the closest she had ever been.

She remembers this kiss each time she smokes, the only reason she really smokes them anymore. Chance still won't let anyone else call her "baby" or "lover", those words belonged to her, the girl who hated her guts, the girl she hadn't seen in 20 years. Chance doubts the girl would even recognize that boygirl she kissed in high school.

[inochinoyomikata]

Inochi no Tabekata 2 ch 0-2 Translation

0-2 Shiratama Ryuko– About to laugh

From the moment she woke up this morning, she had made up her mind to set up an ambush.

The problem was location.

After thinking about it, Ryuuko Shiratama hid behind his shoebox. When Otogiri comes, she’d leave suddenly. She’d done something similar before. She didn’t mean to surprise him then. When she poked her head out from behind the shoe box, thinking that he had come, she jumped and backed away.

How fun.

She really wanted to surprise him. So how would Tobi react? Her heart fluttered when she imagined. But–

While holding her breath and imagining Tobi’s expression and behavior, she became curious. What was it like as a person to surprise and delight your friends?

“What do you think? Chinu….”

At times like this, Ryuuko couldn’t help but talk to her favorite pochette. 

“I shouldn’t.”

She shook her head in panic. Luckily, no one was around now. It would be troublesome if there was someone.

People would think she was weird.

Ryuuko touched the pochette with both hands and let out a sigh.

“....Huh?”

Something was wrong.

Strange, or rather, the pochette was barely moving.

“Chinu….”

Ryuuko opened the zipper of her pochette. Soon Chinu’s horn popped out of the pochette. Chinu’s white fur was rustling.

“Are you in pain? It’s okay, come out.”

When Ryuuko whispered, Chinu protruded about half of his body from the pochette as if he had been waiting. A small mouth peeked out from between his hair and whined. 

Ryuuko nodded at Chinu and started walking. There was no problem, even if someone saw Chinu. Or rather, most people couldn’t see Chinu. Even so, she was somewhat concerned about the public eye.

Many students came and went around the shoebox.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to surprise Tobi…”

“Kuiii.” Chinu cried. He seemed to say he agreed.

“Ambush…”

That idea may be wrong. No ambush, just wait somewhere.

“Is it okay to wait in the classroom?”

“Uyuu,” Chinu cried.

“...But, I can’t calm down.”

Startled, Ryuuko stopped.

“Am I talking too loud? I’ll seem like someone who’s talking to themself.”

She quickly moved on. Ryuuko walked briskly.

Chinu was looking up at Ryuuko. Chinu had no eyes. But Chinu could see well.

She could act like Chinu wasn’t around while he was in his pochette.

It was not good for Chinu to be seen like this. She would definitely be conscious of Chinu.

Ryuuko stopped at the landing of the stairs. It just so happened that there were no people.

“Chinu—” 

She touched her pochette. About three-fifths of Chinu’s body was outside the pochette. Yet he was also tightly packed in the pochette.

“As I thought, you’ve grown, Chinu…”

He used to be smaller.

When her grandmother had bought her the pochette, she had plenty of time to spare. It was faint.

Did he grow slowly?

Little by little, gradually.

So was Ryuuko. For example, compared to three years ago, when she was in elementary school, her height was considerably different. She was fifteen centimeters taller. But she didn’t really understand it, and she didn’t feel like the scenery she sees has changed.

Even so, the recent Chinu was awfully big.

That was quick.

He suddenly grew up.

Recently.

I wonder when it began?

---

“....ha---”

Ryuuko gasped.

“Uniii–”

Chinu cried.

A female student came up the stairs. Ryuuko moved to the corner of the landing so as to not get in the girl’s way.

Her heart was pounding.

Ryuuko was crazy now. For a moment, she thought nothing of it. She probably couldn’t see anything and couldn’t hear anything.

She was dazed.

Ryuuko tapped her left and right palms around her temples. When she was trying to remember something, she naturally did that. She often did it during tests. It was a habit she’d had for a long time. Why was she dazed? How long had she been in a daze?

Since when?

That was.

Ryuuko had been thinking about something. It was Chinu. Chinu was big these days. Had she ever felt like that before? As Ryuuko grew taller, so did Chinu. That was wrong. He was smaller before. Before. What does before mean?

He grew recently.

Ryuuko closed her eyes tightly.

Later then. She didn’t faint. It was not like her consciousness faded away, but something like a pure white wall appears, and her thoughts stopped moving forward from there. It happens sometimes, for example, when she was reading a book her grandfather bought for her. She ran into a difficult chapter and couldn’t understand it no matter how many times she read it. No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t seem to understand.

All of a sudden, she couldn’t think of anything. If her grandfather asked her a question later, she wouldn’t be able to answer, and would be scolded. When she thought about that, she couldn’t help but be scared.

Even when being questioned by her grandfather, she’d sometimes become dazed. Her grandfather yelled, “Why is she silent?” He’d tap the table with his fingertips. Then Ryuuko returns to herself. Even if Ryuuko desperately apologized, her grandfather wouldn’t forgive her. Once he got angry, he couldn’t recover so easily. Thanks to that, her grandmother also became cold.

I’m a useless child.

Ryuuko regrets it each time.

I am a useless child.

There are a lot of things that are not good about me.

Terrible child.

I’m no good.

I’m a useless child.

That’s why.

Because of that, I’m sure—

---

And then Ryuuko was dazed again.

“Kiiuu—” Chinu cried out first. Or was it the sound of someone’s footsteps coming up the stairs that alerted her? She wasn’t sure.

“Ah.”

Ryuuko ran to the edge of the landing. Two male students came up the stairs side by side. Both of them were in the same class as Ryuuko. The boy with a backpack on his back glanced up at Ryuuko. Otogiri Tobi’s eyes widened slightly.

“Good morning, Tobi!”

Ryuuko pushed her hands up. It was an unconscious action.

Tobi said “Eh?” and frowned, and Ryuuko not only thought “waa,” but said it out loud. Ryuuko certainly had a strange pose. It was almost as if she was overjoyed. It was true she was excited to see Tobi, but she was not jumping with joy.

Ryuuko lowered her arms.

“Ah—....”

Tobi bowed his head.

“Morning.”

“G-Good morning.”

She had just said ‘good morning.’ She was embarrassed by repeating herself.

Next to Tobi, a male student with long bangs was stunned. Of course, she knew he was there. But honestly, Ryuuko didn’t pay much attention to him.

Come to think of it, that was pretty rude.

“Well, good morning to Asamiya-kun as well!”

After bowing to Asamiya Shinobu, Ryuuko realized that it was a ‘good morning’ for a third time. Her shame broke through the limit, and her whole body became hot.

“...Phew. ‘What about me,’ I was thi–”

“Pff—”

Tobi covered his mouth with his right elbow and looked down. Even Asamiya-kun burst into laughter.

“What a funny guy, O-Ryuu is.”

Even Baku, carried on Tobi’s back was laughing, “Fuhahaa.”

From Ryuuko’s point of view, she didn’t want to be embarrassed or amusing. She wanted to protest, but she couldn’t complain about Baku while Asamiya-kun was there.

Besides, when she saw Tobi holding back his laughter with his shoulders trembling, she somehow started to not care. Her face loosened up on its own, and even Ryuuko seemed to laugh at it.

She tried to hold back, but it was impossible.

“Fufuu…”

She managed to chuckle. Finally. However, perhaps triggered by Ryuuko’s laughter, Tobi started to laugh, “Phhh…” Ryuuko almost yelled. She wanted Tobi to hold back. Not good. He’d started.

“Hey, what are you doing..?”

Asamiya-kun started to laugh out loud while holding his stomach.

Ryuuko covered her face with both hands. She didn’t even know why she was laughing anymore.

Baku whispered like he was completely stunned.

“Beyond the funny, she was already funny, you guys…”

[badfanfictionaire]

Good Vibrations - Chapter 2 “Heroes and Villains”

Eddie Munson didn’t always live in the Forest Shores trailer park with his uncle Wayne.  He used to live in a shoebox-sized house on the other side of town with his mom and dad.  That was up until he turned eleven and his dad drove off a cliff, killing both of Eddie’s parents in an instant.  Edward senior was a mean drunk, and more often than not he took out his anger on his son.  There was a handful of times he beat on Sharon, his wife, but Eddie would always intervene and end up getting the shit kicked out of him.  Now all Eddie has left as reminders of his parents are a very worn photo album and mild hearing loss on his left side from one too many thwacks on the head.

Moving in with Wayne was a blessing, though it took Eddie a little while to see it like that.  Wayne was a man of few words, but he was kind and fair.  He never laid a finger on Eddie, never raised his voice unless it was serious, and he always let his nephew make his own choices (no matter how stupid).  Eddie stumbled into Forest Shores with nothing but a half-empty duffle bag and a buzzcut, and now, eight years later, he’s got long unruly hair and a surfboard of his own.  He looks like he belongs in Hawks Bluff California now, even if he doesn’t always feel like he belongs.  There’s a great divide in town between those like Eddie, the rowdy surfer crowd, and the uppity preps who prefer the town pool to the ocean.  It doesn’t help Eddie’s reputation any that he’s also into heavy metal, or that he’s on his second go of his senior year.  He’s got all the boxes ticked that have him labeled as a loser and freak.  But, he has friends, he has his surf club, and he has Wayne.  Things aren’t all bad, if he squints at it really hard.  

“You gonna eat that?” Max asks, shaking him out of his daydream.  She’s pointing at the orange stuck in his lunch sack that he hasn’t touched.  Max looks like the Wendy’s logo if she came to life.  She’s one of a handful of kids at school that’s an import from elsewhere in the US of A, and she’s also his neighbor.  She and her step-brother Billy live across the way from him and Wayne, they showed up from Indiana two years ago and they’ve acclimated well to the Cali lifestyle as far as Eddie can tell.

“All yours Red,” Eddie says, tossing her the orange.

Max scowls at him.

“What’s a matter, Maxine?” Eddie laughs.

Her boyfriend, Lucas, shoots Eddie a dirty look.  Eddie teases all of them equally, but Lucas is very protective over his girl.  Eddie gets it, if he had a girl of his own he’d probably be the same way.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Jason Carver and his posse making their way into the cafeteria.  Jason’s got one hand clamped around the wrist of his girlfriend, Chrissy Cunningham, and the other’s clutching his lunch tray.  Eddie can’t understand what a beautiful girl like Chrissy sees in an utter shubie like Carver, but he’s not in a position to judge.

“Listen up my gremlins,” Eddie says in a hushed tone, “I hear that tomorrow morning we’re looking at pristine conditions.  Who wants to take dawn patrol with me and beat the Bluff’s finest to the waves?”

“Aye aye, captain!” Dustin replies, giving him a salute. Dustin is a freshman, but he’s one of Eddie’s best friends.  He’s like the little brother Eddie never had.  The kid is adorable, with a puff of brown hair and chubby cheeks.  Eddie took him under his wing the minute he started high school, because he knew damn well if someone didn’t look out for him Dustin would end up as fish food.  

“Right on,” Eddie grins, “Anyone else?”

The rest of the kids all nod in agreement.  Sure, some of them are a bit kookie, but Eddie loved them all dearly.  It made his heart swell with pride watching all the kids who had joined Hellfire Surf Club blossom into pretty bitchin’ boarders.  At least all of them were legit, unlike Jason’s crew, who could talk the talk but who would fall on their asses if they had to walk the walk. Jason and his cronies were the royalty of the school and the basketball court, but Eddie was king of the sea, and his gremlins were the most rad around.  Anyone who dared argue with that statement was sure to get dogged on by the elders of HSC, and that was for sure.

[italiantnea]

#1/ The pain* of falling down horizontally horizontal falling down

* pain? pane? idk man

Ahh, every night, I kill so many bugs and beetles. And now, I‘ll be killed by the hawk. How painful it is. Ahh, how painful, how painful. I‘ll stop eating bugs and starve to death. No, before that, I‘ll be killed by the hawk.

-The Nighthawk Star, Miyazawa Kenji

#1-1_otogiri_tobi/ how do flowers bloom

prev: 0 // next: 1-2

-----

“Otogiri…”

The teacher with black-rimmed glasses in front of the school gate called out. Otogiri Tobi gave him a glance and passed by without stopping. “Otogiri…” the teacher with black-rimmed glasses groaned again.

“Persistent one, that teacher.” The backpack laughed with a ke ke sound.

“It’s his job isn't it?” Tobi replied quietly.

Since he’d enrolled into school, that teacher had given Tobi life guidance countless times. He wasn’t in charge of his homeroom or any of his subjects, and Tobi didn’t even know his name.

“What with ‘that bag isn’t up to school standards’ or ‘those socks are too flashy’ or ‘your bangs are covering your eyebrows’ or whatever—What’s school for anyway, fitting people into molds?”

Baku grumbled. Tobi ignored him and entered the school building. He changed his shoes at the shoebox.

“Remember, Tobi? More than a year ago, that teacher would bug you every morning about your hair and you…”

“Dunno. I forgot.”

Tobi climbed up the stairs and entered the classroom for class 3 of year 2. Tobi’s seat was by the window, the third one from the front. He placed Baku on his desk and sat down. He lay face down on Baku.

“Getting your morning sleep right after entering school? You got no one to talk to so you’re pretty free huh? Wouldn't it be nice to make a coupla friends?”

“Baku, you shut up…”

“Oi oi, careful there Tobi. You’re gonna become the weird guy who talks to himself.”

“I—”

Tobi lowered his voice as much as he could.

“...I’m not talking in a voice that people around me can hear anyway.”

“Why not let them hear? You might get a chance to talk to them that way.”

“...That would be even more of a pain.”

“Ahh, you’re a, what’s it called? The kinda guy who thinks being a lone wolf with no friends is cool, huh?”

“...I don’t think that.”

“Nuh uh, you do. You know what that’s called? ‘Narcissism’. In Japanese that’s ‘jiko tousui’.” ¹

¹ 'narcissism' is said in English. Jikou tousui (自己陶酔) = lit. 'self absorption'

“...Yeah yeah, say what you want.”

“And that I will. I get bored all zipped up anyway.”

“.........”

“Just sayin’, if you think I’ll shut up just because you did, you’re hugely mistaken,” Baku laughed mockingly.

“As long as you live, I'll never shut up. Don't forget that, Tobi. You and I share the same fate. We are one, body and soul.”

I won't forget.

Tobi muttered internally.

I’ve never once forgotten.

“Well sometimes I’ve wondered, if I burned Baku till you were nothing but ash, what would happen then…”

“Oi, I can hear you!”

“....Your ears are playing tricks on you.”

“And where exactly do I have ears?”

“...dunno.”

“By the way, what is the deal with my hearing?”

“.... I said I don't know.”

“How cold… you’re such a cold guy. Your heart is subzero. It’s freezing.”

If only it would actually freeze. Tobi merely thought this in his heart. Saying it would just be adding fuel to the fire. He should just ignore Baku’s teasing. He knew this, but couldn’t help reacting. He needed more discipline.

“...Discipline for what…?”

Tobi was a fast eater. He always demolished his lunch in seconds. Well, maybe seconds was saying too much. But he devoured everything except the bread like he was trying to teleport it to his stomach. Then he cleaned up, and left the classroom with the bread. When the main course was rice or noodles instead of bread, he left empty handed. 

At first, his homeroom teacher went all “Wait a second, Otogiri-kun….” and tried to stop him, but after that was ignored he stopped saying anything.

Today was a bread day. And butter rolls, at that.

Tobi carried Baku on his back and walked briskly down the hallway.

“You like em dontcha? Butter rolls.”

“Huh? Not particularly?”

“Liar. your steps are too light.”

“....Well I don't hate them. I don't really have likes or dislikes anyway.”

The hallway was deserted. The middle schoolers were still obediently eating their lunch in their classrooms. Still, Tobi lowered his voice just in case.

“Tobii. You’ve always been more of a bread guy than a rice guy huh?”

“I'm a ‘whichever one is good’ guy.”

“You’re more of a fish fan than a meat fan aren’t you?”

“I seriously do not care.”

“Then kinako or red bean paste?”

“Red bean paste.”

“Red bean paste huh? That was fast.”

“...I’m not good with powdery things.”

“I know, right? No, wait, what would I know? What am I thinking, I'm a backpack! I’ve never had red bean paste or kinako.”

“How would I know…”

“What kinda tone is that? You and I are buddies aren’t we?....What kinda buddies are we?”

“That I really don't know.”

“A rotten fate we share². Yeah.”

“Yeah…that might be it.”

“Is it rotten? This fate that binds us. Isn't there a nicer way of putting it?”

“You’re the one who said it.”

“Then correct me! Tell me I'm wrong. I'm lonely!”

“You’re lonely huh…”

“Just a bit, ok?”

²腐れ縁- lit 'rotten bond', an undesirable yet inescapable bond

Tobi exited to the courtyard. Today was a sunny day. The courtyard had a lawn, benches, and flowerbeds, and was quite a bustling place during lunch break. But no one was there yet. It was deserted.

“You’re gonna do it again?” Baku said, appalled.

Tobi held the pipe installed on the outer wall with his middle and ring finger. To be exact, the metal fixtures securing the pipe. Hooking his fingers and tiptoes into other pipe fixtures, the gaps between pipes and walls, and grooves on the wall, Tobi climbed up nimbly.

“Good grief. Idiots and smoke or whatever they say, really.”

Tobi didn't pay Baku’s teasing any mind. He got up the roof of the three floor building in a flash. Not bad today. he thought. He didn’t get lost or stuck even once. It was completely smooth. That might have been a good route.

In truth, you could get to the roof from inside the building. The door to the roof was locked though, probably to prevent crimes and danger. Without getting your hands on a key, you had no way of getting to the roof except climbing. As far as he knew, no one would go to such great lengths to get up the roof. Tobi was the only one.

The roof was flat, unfaced concrete. There were low walls on the perimeter. They were called parapets or something. Tobi put Baku down at his feet and sat on the parapets. He ripped open the plastic wrapping and took out the butter roll. Taking a bite, he closed his eyes.

“Taste good, Tobi?”

“...Not really. It’s just normal?”

“Can’t you just be honest and say it’s tasty? You’re such a contrary guy.”

“Yeah yeah, it’s so tasty, tasty, tasty, tasty, tasty, tasty, tasty, tasty, tasty.”

“Don’t say it so many times, you sound fake as hell.”

“Like I said, it’s just normal.”

“Koppe-pan³ and butter rolls, which would you pick?”

³ a kind of Japanese bread, sorta like a hot dog bun

“Butter rolls.”

“See?”

“...See what?”

“Do I really need to explain?”

Tobi inhaled the butter roll in three bites, and gazed at the pale sky and fragmented clouds. He soon got bored, and turned back to look at the school building.

The school Tobi attended had a U-shaped building, with a courtyard in the concave part. The roof he was on belonged to the special classroom building, and he faced the classroom building. Third year students were on the first floor, second years on the second, and first years and the third.

The chime signaling the end of meal time rang. Lunch break had begun, and students went one by one into the hallway of the building facing the courtyard. Occasionally—about one in ten, or perhaps less than that—there were students with strange things perched on their head or shoulders. Even though he saw them, Tobi didn't turn his head wondering what they were.

For example, three girls walked together in the second floor hallway. Tobi didn't remember their names, but they were all second year students like him. One of them, the girl in the middle, had a bat-like, or perhaps flying squirrel-like creature clinging to her. The possibility that maybe the girl had a strange pet that she loved so much she brought it to school couldn’t be ruled out. However, this wasn’t the first time Tobi had seen that creature. Or rather, that creature was always clinging to the girl. Despite that, no one, not teacher or student, brought up the topic.

It seemed that the girl herself was unaware of the creature’s existence.

“Weird…” Tobi muttered.

“Huh?” Baku instantly responded.

“What’s weird?”

“No, nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You said it was weird. You said it so clearly, I heard you perfectly. So? What’s weird?”

“...Well, to be exact, it’s you, Baku.”

“Hah? What’s so weird about me?”

“Do you have no self awareness?”

“You!”

“Ehh—”

Tobi’s gaze dropped down to the courtyard.

The one who yelled “You!” wasn’t Baku.

A man in work clothes was looking up at Tobi. It was the janitor of the school.

“...Me?”

As Tobi pointed to himself, the janitor yelled, “Yes, you!”

“No matter how you think of it, it’s you! There’s no one there except for you, is there?!”

“Ah, I guess so huh.”

“Not ‘I guess so’!”

He was younger than most of the other staff members. Maybe it was something about the structure of his face, or the way he’s always smiling amiably. He always greeted Tobi when he saw him, but Tobi found it irritating and always ignored him. Despite that, he never learned and kept calling out to him.

“You know, Otogiri-kun, that roof is off limits, got it?! About that, you’ve done it before, haven't you? Sometimes you appear, on the roof! I always thought that was strange, how did you even get up there? The door is locked, isn’t it? I’ll be checking it! Do you happen to have a copy of the key?!”

“I don't have a copy or anything.”

“Right? If you went off and copied the key by yourself that’d be a huge problem! Anyway, get down immediately!”

“You mean jump down?”

“Of course not?! No, absolutely not, ok? Ahh, whatever, Otogiri-kun, just stay there! I have a bunch to ask you anyway, I'm coming up!”

The janitor ran off towards the school building. He was probably going to get a key from the staff room and climb to the roof using the stairs.

“What now, Tobi?” Baku inquired, half laughing.

“What else is there to do—” Tobi lifted Baku up.

“I'm not waiting. It’s a pain in the ass anyway.”

“Sure is.”

“I was kinda digging this place though…”

With a sigh, Tobi straddled the parapet. Climbing down along the outer wall took ten seconds at most. Of course, when the janitor arrived, Tobi was nowhere to be found.

After school, Tobi was called to the staff room by his homeroom teacher Harimoto-sensei, and given guidance. Specifically, the guidance in question was mostly about the incident on the roof, but Tobi let Harimoto’s words go in one ear and out the other. Well, not all of them, but most of them.

“Are you listening, Otogiri? Give a response,” Harimoto would check every few minutes.

And Tobi would answer, “Yes.” or “I’m listening.”

Harimoto was around forty years old, and barring stiff formal events, he always wore a red track suit. With his name being ‘Harimoto’, and his hair being spiked back, he was called ‘Harinezumi’⁴, or more affectionately, ‘Harry’ behind his back.

⁴harinezumi=hedgehog

“Sensei doesn't want to be here nagging you about warnings either. But you know, Otogiri, at the very least, the very minimum. There are rules in society that you have to obey….”

When Harimoto’s lecture was done and they walked out of the staff room, it was already past 4:30 PM.

“Pah!” Baku grumbled resentfully.

“He just went on and on, that bastard Harry. I'm tired of staying quiet.”

“Don't call him ‘Harry’...”

Tobi briskly exited the school. He wasn’t particularly in a hurry, but he didn’t have a habit of walking leisurely. He either walked slowly with large steps, or restlessly fastwalked. That was basically all he did.

“That way of walking. Are you race walking?”

At Baku’s jab, Tobi unconsciously slowed down before the school gate.

“...Shut up.”

“You’re so restless. Why don't you take your time and try living a more easygoing life?”

“I said shut up…”

Tobi looked at his watch. It took him 15 minutes to reach the facility on foot. There was less than an hour left before curfew—because of Harimoto’s lecture, only 40 minutes of free time remained. Taking the bus to the area Tobi used to live took 20 minutes.

“...Can’t make it today, huh.”

He arrived at the school gate just as he was seething.

The gate was less than 2 meters tall. It would be easy to climb up, but that wasn’t enough to cheer him up. Tobi kicked off the tile-covered gate, and used the momentum to jump up.

“Yes—”

Without thinking, Tobi pumped his fist slightly. Just as planned, he’d gotten up the gate without using his hands. He’d done well.

“Tobi… ummm…? There are rules in society you have to uphold, you know?” Baku laughed as he quotes Harimoto’s lecture.

Tobi was about to say something back, but forgot what he was going to say.

On the other side of the school gate was a female student. She gazed up at Tobi.

“Ah…”

With sharp, bold features and her long hair in double buns, she was a familiar looking girl.

Or rather, she was a classmate.

Rare enough for Tobi, he remembered her name. It was a bit unique, and he’d committed it to memory after seeing it written out once.

Her surname was Shiratama.⁵

⁵ white jewel

Her given name was a little special too: written as ‘dragon’s child’, and pronounced as ‘Ryuuko’.

Shiratama Ryuuko seemed surprised, and blinked several times.

Tobi was surprised as well. Why was Shiratama here? The school gate was deserted. No one else was here. And a girl from the same class at that.

Tobi sucked in a breath and pursed his lips.

What should I do?

Baku said nothing. This is the time you should say something. Tobi thought from the bottom of his heart. Some stupid nonsense, a mocking tease, an unfunny joke, anything. Say something. Though even if Baku did speak, Tobi would’ve been the only one to hear him.

Why was Shiratama remaining silent as well?

This is awkward.

Tobi looked closely at Shiratama for the first time. He had the impression she had a sharp face, but her eyes, nose and mouth weren’t particularly big; nor were they strangely small. They weren't distorted or off kilter at all. How’d you put it? They were well ordered. Everything was in its rightful place; not a single place was misshapen. You could keep looking at that face and never feel unpleasant. It was a form you never got tired of.

Maybe because of that, Tobi and Shiratama locked eyes. As if they were having a staring contest or something, he couldn’t turn his gaze away.

To be honest, Tobi was embarrassed. He should’ve just looked away, but somehow he couldn't.

What is this?

What time is it?

“Hey you…!”

At that moment, someone shouted from afar. It was that janitor.

“Get down from the gate! Oh, Otogiri-kun! It’s you again?!”

The janitor’s yell seemed to release him from his spell. Tobi turned around. In front of the entrance to the school stood the janitor, brandishing a broom.

“‘Scuse me.” 

As Tobi lightly bowed his head, the janitor jumped up.

“Didn't you just get scolded by Harimoto-sensei? You didn’t reflect on yourself at all!”

“I already apologized…”

Tobi jumped down from the gate. The janitor seemed ready to chase after him, so he sprinted away from the gate.

After making two turns, he turned around. No one was there, so Tobi stopped running.

“What a pain in the ass, that janitor…”

“Looks like you've completely caught his attention.”

Baku laughs with a kuhehe. Tobi scrunched up his face.

“Give me a break.”

“Don’t tell that to me, how about you tell him directly?”

“What should I say?”

“What indeed. Something like, ‘I’m just a pathetic eighth grader all alone in this world, trying my best to live admirably without turning to delinquency, so please leave me be’ or something?”

“I don't think of myself as pathetic, though.”

“Isn’t it a convenient excuse? You look plenty pathetic just by being all alone in this world, you know?”

“Anyway, I'm not all alone in this world.”

“Yeah?”

“I have an older brother.”

Whenever Tobi brought up his brother, Baku clammed right up. Baku had never met his brother; When he'd met Tobi, he had already gotten separated from him.

When he looked at his watch, it was 4:40. He just had to barely make it before the facility’s 5:30 curfew, so Tobi took a little detour. A detour, in Tobi’s case, was just walking a more roundabout route. He wanted to spend as little money as possible. He didn't have much money he could waste anyway.

The facility he was enrolled in gave middle schoolers 3000 yen a month as pocket money. Tobi didn't know if 3000 yen a month was a lot or not, but the occasional one-way bus ride cost 220 yen, and he blew 440 yen on a round trip. The money disappeared in a flash. If he didn't have any when in need, it’d be a problem. He didn't want a problem, so he tried not to spend any money.

As such, Tobi had never been to a burger place or donut shop. He was scared he’d accidentally buy something useless, so he tried not to enter convenience stores either.

He didn't hate walking.

As long as there weren't people around, he had Baku to talk to too.

At the very least, it wasn't a boring time.

“I’m totally free though.”

Baku sometimes spoke as if he’d read Tobi’s mind.

“I’m basically just being carried around by you anyway.”

“You want me to throw you?”

“That’s not something you do even if it’s an accident you know?”

“Wouldn’t it be fun to fly though the sky?”

“Just a moment. Throwing can’t be considered flying. Even though you’re Tobi⁶, don’t you know the meaning of the word fly? Next time try looking it up in the dictionary. No, not next time, go look it up today! There’s nothing written about being thrown in the word fly.”

⁶Tobi(飛) is written with the character meaning 'fly'

Tobi turned into an alley from the road, then entered another road. He tried to turn into places he thought he hadn’t entered before. But he was mistaken; it was a road he knew. He’d walked around near the school for more than a year now. There were probably few paths he hadn't set foot in before.

The middle school Tobi attended was in a district called Ourai-chou⁷, and the facility was in the neighboring district called Asakawa-chou⁸.

⁷Ourai(往来)=to come and go

⁸Asakawa(浅川)=shallow river

Asakawa-chou, as the name suggested, had a river named Asakawa. The river was wide, but as long as the water level hadn’t risen due to rain, it was shallow enough to cross on foot.

“But really, Tobi, don't you think it’s lazy naming? Just because there’s a shallow river they name it ‘Shallow River’...”

“Isn’t it good it’s so easy to understand?”

“There’s something called atmosphere.”

Tobi walked on the bank of Asakawa river, holding a backpack that was cheekily speaking of atmosphere. On the floodplain of Asakawa river, there’s a tent village. It’s called a tent village, but there aren’t many camping tents to be seen. In truth, it was filled with little shacks made from plastic and scraps. It was also called “Asakawa Den⁹”. Den seemed to be a word that insinuated it was a burrow, or stronghold, or cave.

⁹ this uses the English word 'den'

Don't go near Asakawa river’s tent village.

That was what local children were taught. No matter in elementary school, or middle school, or the facility, all the adults said so. It’s dangerous there. They cautioned. Tobi had never entered Asakawa Den, the tent village either. He’d only looked down at them from the embankment from time to time, as he was doing right now.

It wasn't a particularly scary place.

The residents of Asakawa village probably weren’t very well off. There were people who weren't well dressed, too. But there were decent people as well.

Once, when he’d broken the curfew and walked around here at night, he’d seen the residents of Asakawa den gathered around a bonfire made in a steel drum. He didn't know their way of life, but he could hear laughter. They were cooking something, and chatting cheerfully as they ate and drank.

Tobi wasn't great with people who were having fun.

He was fine looking at them from a distance. He just didn’t want to get too close.

“Tobi, you should really fix that communication difficulty of yours.”

“That’s not what it is.”

“Are you seriously saying that?”

“I just get a bit tired, hanging around people.”

“No matter if you get tired or whatever, humans are social animals. You can’t expect to be able to live alone. You gotta learn to have a bit more patience, yeah?”

“Baku’s saying something proper…”

“When I feel like it, I say proper things too. I'm an amazing backpack!”

“Hmph. You’re just Baku.”

Asakawa river flowed from north to south. Tobi turned away from the setting sun, and began crossing the bridge spanning the river. The road was getting crowded, but the sidewalk was clear. Tobi climbed nimbly up the railing of the bridge.

“You’re doing it again….” Baku said in dismay.

Tobi paid him no heed and continued walking on the railing.

He could feel the wind better here, compared to the sidewalk. Whenever Tobi’s body swayed in the wind, Baku let out an exaggerated “Uoooh!”

“I won't fall.”

“Who knows. Don't you know the saying ‘Carelessness is your greatest enemy’?”

“Of course I know that much. But I’m not being careless though.”

“Taking it as high as you can just because you’re used to it. You know, it’s scary, acclimation. People who think they’re just fine get into accidents.”

“Why’re you being so cautious? You’re Baku.”

“Cautious, huh? I was born prudent.”

“Born like that huh…”

“Is that bad?”

“It’s not bad or anything. I was just wondering how you were born.”

“Aah? That was you—”

Nnnngh. Baku growled as he pondered.

Tobi remembered that man. The tall, top hat wearing, one eyed man. That man had left Baku in front of Tobi. However, Baku didn’t seem to know much about what happened before he started talking.

Tobi stopped and turned to face the river. As he sat down on the railing, he was struck with the urge to take the shoes off his feet, as they had lost their place to tread.

“Oi, Tobi. If you do something like that here, people’ll think you’re about to jump.”

“I'm not going to jump. Even if I fall, there’s a river down there. I can swim anyway.”

“But it’s a shallow river. Just an Asakawa after all.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Be careful, yeah?”

“Mm.”

Tobi nodded as he lurched his body back and forth. Baku bursted into a racket.

“OIIII! Hey Tobi, I JUST told you to be careful…!”

“We won't fall just from this.”

“You don't know that, do you?! That’s what you call being careless!”

“I wasn't being careless. I did it on purpose anyway.”

“Is that so. On purpose. You did it on purpose, huh. Don't do that on purpose. Don't do it. Do not. Do it.”

“Even if you tell me not to…”

“I am NOT joking. I’m done. Stop messing around and get back already.”

“Eeehh…”

“It’s almost curfew anyway.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“You don't wanna go back?”

Tobi pretended not to hear, and didn't answer Baku’s inquiry.

Ke ke. Baku laughed.

“Can’t really come to love that place huh, that facility.”

“Not really… I don't like or hate it.”

“Other guys¹⁰ tentatively come to call the facility ‘home’, but you’re different, aren't you? You don't think of the facility as your home at all. You just can’t think of it like that.”

¹⁰ written as 'residents', pronounced as 'guys'

Tobi let his legs dangle. Before he knew it, his back was hunched and he faced downwards. He didn’t feel like stretching his back muscles. He didn’t want to face forward, or upwards.

“It’s nothing to do with the facility. It’s just—”

“Just?”

“It doesn't suit me.”

“Heeh? What doesn't?”

“People.”

“Simply put, you hate people then.”

“I don't hate them. They just don't suit me. That’s what I said, wasn't it?”

“What a troublesome bastard you are.”

“Shut up…”

“By the way, Tobi.”

“Mm?”

“Have you noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“She’s here.”

“Hah? What is?”

“Over there.”

“Where?”

Tobi lifted his head.

He looked right, and looked left.

Only a meter away from him—of course, not on the railing, but below it, on the Asakawa bridge sidewalk—stood a female student. The student wore the uniform from the middle school Tobi attended. An awfully bold face. Long hair tied in double buns.

“......Eh—”

Strange things could happen.

Before, there had been a similar occurrence. “Before”, well more like, just a little while ago; just now really.

Shiratama Ryuuko gazed at Tobi. her eyes weren't particularly wide, but it was a gaze that seemed to capture its subject, and bind it in place. And that subject in question was Tobi.

In the past, when Tobi was young, he’d been instructed by a teacher at the facility to look people in the eye when talking to them. Tobi had done as he was told and looked the teacher in the eye. When he did that, for some reason, the teacher no longer looked Tobi in the eye. Instead, the teacher had looked near his nose or mouth.

For some reason, it could feel awkward to look someone straight in the eye.

In some book from the facility, Tobi had read that cats hated eye contact with humans. In most cases, an unabashed gaze was a sign of hostility.

However, Shiratama Ryuuko merely seemed to be observing Tobi. Was the creature known as Tobi such a rare thing? What kind of shape did he have, and what ecosystem did he live in? That was what her gaze seemed to inquire.

Ah. this person.

She was there just now.

She’s here, again.

Was it a simple coincidence? That couldn't be ruled out, but it was strange. A curious thing.

Or rather, it was scary.

Tobi wanted to run. Had he not been sitting on the railing, he might have taken off without a second glance.

That’s right. Let’s run.

He could run on the railing, or jump down and run. If he wanted to escape, he could run away right now. Why didn’t Tobi do so? Tobi himself didn't know. It was just like back at the gate. Gazing at Shiratama like this, for some reason he couldn't tear his eyes away.

“Um.”

At the same moment Tobi said this, Shiratama called out his name, “Otogiri-kun.”

“Yeah,” Tobi nodded without thinking.

“...Eh? What?”

“Do you know me?”

Shiratama continued staring at Tobi as she asked. She hadn't blinked the whole time. Didn't her eyes hurt from being dried out? Tobi was suddenly struck with such a curiosity.

“I—do… know. You’re Shiratama-san, right? We’re in the same class. Shiratama. Ryuuko.”

“So you did know. About me.”

Shiratama finally blinked, twice, thrice.

Then, she lifted her chin slightly and narrowed her eyes, the corners of her lips lifting slightly.

“That’s great. I thought you might not have any interest in other people.”

“...I basically don't, though.”

“You don't?”

Now she widened her eyes and shut her lips. As her expression changed, Shiratama transformed into another Shiratama. And yet, she was still herself.

“Then, why did you know about me?”

“Well… your name is a bit weird.”

“It is the combination of Shiratama and Ryuuko, so I’ve heard that before. But, Otogiri¹¹-kun should be just as, if not more rare than me.”

¹¹Otogiri(弟切)='little brother'+'cut'. the name of a type of grass.

“Is……that so. Well—”

“Tobii”

Baku laughs with a hehe

“Speaking of rare, you talking with a friend from school is a pretty rare thing too, huh?”

She’s not my friend. Tobi was about to retort back. But Baku had used that wording deliberately to provoke him. What’s more, he couldn't yell at a backpack to shut up in front of Shiratama.

“It’s true that my name isn’t that common either—”

Tobi suddenly noticed something strange.

Shiratama wasn’t looking at Tobi. Though she was looking towards him, her gaze wasn’t focused on him. What was Shiratama looking at?

It was the backpack slung over Tobi’s left shoulder. Shiratama was looking at Baku.

“...What’s wrong, Tobi?” Baku sounded suspicious.

Without answering, Tobi straightened Baku and brought him close to his body.

“It’s not. A common…. name…… Eh? What…? Is something—the matter……?”

Shiratama doesn't answer, and continues staring at Baku.

“Wha—”

Baku was starting to get flustered too.

“Wha— what’s with this—this woman? It, it can't be, she can see m……”

“You know,”

Shiratama spoke. She didn’t seem to be taking her eyes off Baku.

“I wanted to talk to you, Otogiri-kun. That’s why I lay in wait for you.”

“......in wait.”

For a second, Tobi didn't know what she was talking about. As he thought back, he understood.

“Ahhh… that just now, at the school gate?”

“Yes.”

Shiratama nodded without looking at Tobi.

“However, you made Haizaki-san angry and ran away, so I followed you.”

“......Haizaki-san?”

“The janitor from our school.”

“So that person has such a name. Haizaki, huh……”

“Haizaki-san never fails to greet everyone, and indulges people in lighthearted small talk. He’s a very friendly person.”

“Huh……”

To Tobi, it really didn't matter. The janitor’s name, or his character. It had nothing to do with him.

Rather than that, why had Shiratama been lying in wait for him? Why would she go through the hassle of following after him? What did she want to talk to him about? And Shiratama was still staring at Baku; that was the thing Tobi was terribly curious about.

“—So……Shiratama-san. Do you. Need something…… from me, or?”

“If I didn't need something from you, I wouldn’t have lay in wait for you, or followed you all the way here.”

Shiratama finally looked at Tobi instead of Baku, and smiled.

Tobi turned his face downwards. He couldn't help looking down. There was nothing to look down on. He stole a glance upwards at Shiratama.

“Um. About that…”

Shiratama lifted her right hand and pointed.

“...backpack.”

“......Eh—Baku……?”

“Ba-ku.”

Shiratama said as she cocked her head.

“Bakku? Baku? It’s a bag, so B-A-G. Correctly speaking, ‘bag’?”

“Ahh… uh, my, English, isn’t that……”

Tobi had started calling Baku Baku because he’d called himself a backpack.

It’d been quite a long time ago, and he didn't remember the exact exchange. But for sure, Tobi had asked, “What’re you?”, and Baku had replied, “I’m a backpack.” Or maybe it had been “I’m backpack sama.” Anyhow, ‘backpack’ was long and a bit hard to say, so he’d abbreviated it to ‘Baku’.

“My Baku, no—backpack….bag, huh. Um, so, my back…… I mean, Baku….uh. M-my bag¹², what about it?”

¹² Tobi abandons the English words and uses the Japanese word kaban (鞄)

“Otogiri-kun, you often talk with that bag, don't you?”

“With my bag—”

Tobi almost fell off the railing.

“W-with my bag? Me? T-talk. Huh? W-why? I don't. Talk to—it, though……?”

“Is Otogiri-kun good at ventriloquy?”

Shiratama asked the strange question matter-of-factly.

“Ventrilo……”

Tobi tried to do ventriloquy. Wait. It's no use. I mean, this is weird. To attempt ventriloquy, even though I've never done it before. I can't do it anyway. There’s no need to try it out here.

“I don't. Have any experience, with ventriloquy or anything.”

“In that case, the voice that doesn’t belong to Otogiri-kun, that often talks with you; whose voice is that?”

“Oi, Tobii……”

Baku lowered his voice and whispered.

“It seems my voice has been heard. We’ve been found out, by her.”

“That voice.”

Shiratama nodded.

“That’s correct. I’ve found you out.”

Seriously?

Tobi didn't just think this.

“......Seriously?”

The mutter escaped his mouth.

Shiratama puffed out her chest, and a huge smile spread across her excellently proportioned face, as if decorating it with colorful flowers.

“Seriously.”

-----

prev: 0 // next: 1-2

not much to add to this chapter. added the translation notes in the relevant paragraph to provide context. i guess ill put them at the end if they're too long and disruptive.

Haizaki uses the more polite second person pronoun 'kimi' when talking to people

some lore about the Otogiri name:

[dropsofjupitcr]

MIDNIGHT MUSINGS

The digital alarm clock's harsh red numbers blinked mockingly as Hunter stared at them through bleary eyes: 2:37 AM. Beside him, Ophelia let out a soft snuffling noise and shifted positions, burrowing deeper beneath the mound of blankets cocooning them both in blessed warmth. Away from the chill December night air seeping through the old dorm's leaky window frames.

Even in the shadowy dimness of their shoebox apartment, Hunter couldn't help but be transfixed by the way Ophelia's features seemed to almost glow, backlit by those faint crimson numerals. The normally bright constellations of freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and cheekbones were smudged into a burnt sienna palette in this half-light. Loose tendrils of chestnut hair fanned out in a haphazard halo across the pillowcase. In that bleary, exhausted state of half-wakefulness clinging to Hunter's consciousness, he marveled at just how damn beautiful his girlfriend - no, his partner, his other half, his everything - could manage to be even like this. Wrapped up in bunny-printed pajamas and drooling slightly, mouth-agape in the throes of a deep sleep.

God, he was so bloody lucky to be the one who got to share this view. This private, perfect, peaceful vision of the woman who had turned his entire world upside down the moment she had first stepped onto that scuffed-up frozen pond back in elementary school all those years ago. Before Hunter could reign himself in, those swirling thoughts of adoration started escaping their confines as half-mumbled verbal musings.

"Hey Ophs...you awake?"

A noncommittal hum answered him, her shapely back shifting beneath the quilted blankets.

"Do you ever wonder...I mean, just think about if things had been different for us?" Hunter continued in a hushed ramble, his voice cracking slightly from fatigue and the weight of his meandering theories. "Like, if we'd grown up in some alternate world instead of as skating partners? Do you think we'd still...you know, be a couple? Wind up together no matter what?"

A sleepy tousle of red hair appeared from the fabric nest as Ophelia turned to regard him with one bleary emerald eye cracked open, brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and exasperation.

"Are you having those dumb midnight existential asthmatic thoughts again?" she groaned, clearly only half-registering his rambling queries through her haze of drowsiness.

Hunter shrugged sheepishly, draping one thick arm around her narrow waist and tugging her plush form flush against his larger physique. The soft scents of lavender shampoo and crisp, clean linen washed over him as he nuzzled the crown of her head reverently. "Maybe..." he admitted, voice pitched lower against the delicate whorl of her ear. "Just can't seem to make my brain shut off at night sometimes, you know?"

Ophelia let out a contented sigh as she allowed herself to be enfolded into the warm cocoon of his embrace, her eyelids already fluttering closed once more. "Well, keep those racing thoughts away from my end of things, West," she purred in a drowsy murmur. "Let me at least get some damn sleep."

Hunter hummed an affirmative reply, nosing aside a few loose tresses so he could brush a feather-light kiss against her temple. He felt the tension seep out of his girlfriend's slender frame at the tender gesture as Ophelia sagged fully into his sinewy arms. For a few tranquil moments, the only sounds filling their shoebox apartment were the steady in-out cadences of their mingled breathing patterns, slipping in seamless sync with one another. One heartbeat melding effortlessly into the next. As it had since the first time they cautiously intertwined their gangly teenage limbs all those years ago.

Hunter traced abstract, soothing patterns along the sliver of exposed skin peeking from between Ophelia's tank top and pajama bottoms. Allowing the hushed peace surrounding them to settle into his very marrow.

Until...

"You don't think we'd already be married by now?" he pondered aloud before he could censor his wandering thoughts. "With like...five kids at least? Or maybe an entire hockey team's worth of little ankle-biters running around, knowing us?"

Ophelia groaned, cracking one emerald eye open again to shoot her boyfriend an exaggerated glower from the depths of her blanket nest. "For the sake of avoiding the very real possibility of smothering you with a pillow right now?" She settled the full force of her drowsy glare on the sheepish Hunter, pursing her lips in displeasure. "Go. To. Bed."

Hunter couldn't help the low chuckle rumbling up unbidden from his broad chest as Ophelia swatted him half-heartedly. His smile only widened further as he pressed another teasing peck to the tip of her adorably upturned nose, eliciting a fresh disgruntled grumble. "Roger that, babe. Going to sleep now, just like you asked."

As Ophelia harrumphed and shifted to get more comfortable against the solid wall of Hunter's torso, one last drowsy murmur reached his ears. "If we did have five kids, I'm telling you right now that potty training duty is ALL on you, pal."

Hunter simply hummed a wordless note of wry acknowledgment, resisting the urge to rumple her tangled hair in playful retribution. He knew better than to push his luck tonight. So instead, Hunter cradled Ophelia tighter and welcomed the waves of exhaustion already dragging him back under into peaceful slumber, perfectly content to pick up their silly late-night musing at a later date. Perhaps in some future reality where five squirming little bundles did indeed call them Mom and Dad, and these quiet, intimate moments would ultimately seem like some long lost fever dream.

[jcmarchi]

Steering and Accelerating Electrons at the Microchip Scale - Technology Org

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/steering-and-accelerating-electrons-at-the-microchip-scale-technology-org/

Steering and Accelerating Electrons at the Microchip Scale - Technology Org

Stanford researchers are getting closer to building a tiny electron accelerator based on “accelerator-on-a-chip” technology with broad potential applications in studying physics and medical and industrial uses.

Illustration of a shoebox-sized accelerator. An electron source and buncher/injector feeds into a sub-relativistic DLA (the device described in this article), which accelerates electrons up to 1MeV in energy. These electrons are further accelerated by SiO2 waveguide-driven relativistic DLA, and finally pass through an undulator to produce coherent free-electron radiation. Image credit: Moore Foundation / Payton Broaddus

The researchers have demonstrated that a silicon dielectric laser accelerator, or DLA, can now both speed up and confine electrons, creating a focused beam of high-energy electrons. “If the electrons were microscopic cars, it’s as if, for the first time, we’re steering and we have our foot on the gas,” said Payton Broaddus, PhD ’23 in electrical engineering and the lead author on a paper published on Feb. 23 detailing the breakthrough in Physical Review Letters.

Taking accelerators from miles to microns

Accelerators produce high-energy particle beams that allow physicists to study the properties of materials, produce focused probes for medical applications, and identify the elementary building blocks that make up all matter in the universe. Some of the earliest high-energy particle accelerators, developed in the 1930s, could fit on a tabletop. But higher particle energies were required to study more advanced physics, so scientists needed to build larger systems. (Powered up in 1966, the original linear accelerator tunnel at SLAC National Accelerator Laboratory on Stanford campus is almost 2 miles long.)

While these systems have made numerous discoveries in particle physics possible, Broaddus is motivated to build a tiny linear accelerator that could eventually rival the capabilities of machines more than a thousand times its size, at a fraction of the cost. This would also allow new applications in medicine, such as being able to attach this device to a small probe and precisely shoot an electron beam at a tumor. “There’s the ability to just completely replace every other particle accelerator with something that’s cheaper and smaller,” he said.

Thanks to advances in nano-scale fabrication and lasers, this vision is increasingly possible, said Olav Solgaard, director of the Edward L. Ginzton Laboratory and the Robert L. and Audrey S. Hancock Professor in the School of Engineering and the senior author on the paper. Traditional radiofrequency accelerators are made up of copper cavities that are pumped with radio waves, which give particles an energy boost. These pulses can heat up the metal, so the cavities need to operate at lower energy and pulse rates to dissipate the heat and avoid melting.

But glass and silicon structures can handle much higher energy pulses from lasers without heating up, so they can be much more powerful while also being smaller. About 10 years ago, Stanford researchers started experimenting with nano-size structures made of these materials. In 2013, a team led by paper co-author Robert Byer, the William R. Kenan, Jr. Professor, Emeritus, demonstrated that a tiny glass accelerator with pulsing infrared light had successfully accelerated electrons. These results led to the project being adopted by the Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation under the Accelerator on a Chip (ACHIP) international collaboration to produce a shoebox-sized mega-electron-volt accelerator.

But this first “accelerator on a chip” still had some kinks to work out. As Broaddus puts it, the electrons inside were like cars on a narrow road without steering wheels. They could accelerate very quickly but just as easily crash into a wall.

Scanning electron micrograph of a half-millimeter long dielectric laser accelerator through which electrons travel and accelerate. Cells labeled as black are longitudinally focusing and transversely defocusing (LFTD), while white are longitudinally defocusing transversely focusing (LDTF), which keeps the electrons on track. Image credit: Broaddus, P., Egenolf, T., Black, D. S., Murillo, M., Woodahl, C., Miao, Y., … Solgaard, O. (2024). Subrelativistic Alternating Phase Focusing Dielectric Laser Accelerators. Phys. Rev. Lett., 132, 085001. doi:10.1103/PhysRevLett.132.085001

Steering electrons with lasers

Now, this team of Stanford researchers has successfully shown they can also steer electrons at the nanoscale. To do this, they built a silicon structure with a sub-micron channel placed in a vacuum system. They injected electrons into one end and illuminated the structure from both sides with a shaped laser pulse that delivered kicks of kinetic energy. Periodically, the laser fields flipped between focusing and defocusing properties, which bunched the electrons together, keeping them from swerving off track.

Altogether, this chain of acceleration, defocusing, and focusing acted on the electrons for a distance of almost a millimeter. It might not sound far, but these charged particles got quite the kick, gaining 23.7 kilo-electron-volts of energy, approximately 25% greater than their starting energy. The rate of acceleration the team has been able to achieve in their prototype tiny accelerator is comparable to conventional copper accelerators, and Broaddus adds that much higher acceleration rates are possible.

While it’s a significant step forward, there’s more that needs to be done before these small accelerators can be used in industry, medicine, and research. So far, the team’s ability to steer electrons has been limited to two dimensions; three-dimensional electron confinement will be required to allow the accelerator to be long enough for greater energy gains to occur.

Electron relay race

A sister research group at Friedrich Alexander University (FAU) at Erlangen, Germany, recently demonstrated a similar device with a single laser and starting at much lower starting energy. It and the Stanford device will ultimately be part of a kind of electron relay race, said Broaddus.

This future relay would have three teammates: The FAU device would take low-energy electrons and give them an initial kick, and then they could then be fed into a device similar to the one Broaddus is developing. The last step for the electrons would be an accelerator made of glass, like the one developed by Byer. Glass can withstand even greater pummeling by lasers than silicon, allowing the accelerator to further energize and push the electrons toward the speed of light.

Eventually, Solgaard believes such a tiny accelerator will be useful in high-energy physics, exploring the fundamental matter that makes up the universe just as its larger counterparts do. “We have a very, very long way to go,” he said. But he’s still optimistic, adding, “we’ve taken the first few steps.”

Source: Stanford University

You can offer your link to a page which is relevant to the topic of this post.

[madam-wakefield]

Open When Chapter 22

A03 Link 

Summary:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13  Chapter 14  Chapter 15  Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 When a few years into their relationship Bernie is asked to go back to the army and deploy Serena isn’t sure how she’s going to get through the nine months without her girlfriend. What she doesn’t expect is for it to be her girlfriend who has the perfect set of surprises to get her through both the best and the worst days. Canon divergent - Elinor lives (well actually the accident never happens), Raf lives, and Cameron isn’t a total ass! The staff of AAU also probably didn’t all work on there at the same time in canon but do in this! The fic is already fully written with the first few chapters having already been Beta’d. 27 chapters including the epilogue. Hoping to post every Monday and Friday!

Open when the distance is too much…

From the moment Serena wakes up she feels like the distance between her, and Bernie is threatening to make her emotions spiral out of control. She’s done well overall she thinks, during the time that Bernie has been away. She hasn’t always found it easy, but she’s found ways of coping, ways to make things seem just that little bit easier. The calendar that she uses to count down the days until Bernie’s return, the way that she has watched shows with Jason that Bernie normally would, to help her nephew get through all of it. She has got into a routine of sending frequent e-blueys and blueys to allow herself to share as much as possible with Bernie, to make Bernie smile from over three thousand miles away.

It’s funny that now just over a month before Bernie’s return the distance between them is seeming to overwhelm her. Though maybe it’s not, maybe that’s the exact reason it feels too much, that she knows how close it is. Knows how soon Bernie should be coming home and that she wants to let her excitement at the thought of having Bernie back fill her with joy. She doesn’t dare though because there is still that giant voice in the back of her head that warns her that it’s still a month of threats Bernie must face. That until she is back in Serena’s arms no matter how little time is left things could still go wrong.

Maybe it’s also the fact that today is Bernie’s birthday and that she feels so fucking useless. Bernie has made each one of their special occasions while they’ve been apart so bloody amazing, and Serena feels useless. She’s sent Bernie the care package, full of sweets and chocolate and all her favourite savoury snacks but that’s all she’s been able to do. Send Bernie a 2kg shoebox as a birthday gift. And it’s infuriating.

Bernie has done so much for Serena, so much to make sure Serena is cared for, and looked after and so much to make sure she remembers she’s loved but she can’t repay the favour. She can’t buy Bernie a fancy birthday gift, or even just pick up the phone and wish Bernie a Happy Birthday the way Bernie had done on her birthday, just over two months after she’d deployed all that time ago.  But Serena can’t do that all Serena can do is hope that Bernie got her tiny little care package on time and hope that Bernie knows how sincere she is about giving Bernie the best belated, birthday, Christmas and anniversary all rolled into one once she’s home.

She is so so grateful to Bernie for all the open when letters, and the special gifts she’d left her for those special occasions. They’d helped her get through both the best and the worst days of this separation and she’d never have had it any other way, but that doesn’t stop her feeling guilty for not being able to return the favour. She knows Bernie had said that all the blueys Serena has written her have really helped her get through, made her feel special, cared for, loved, and wanted but it’s still not the same. She still can’t give Bernie the same.

She can only hope that once Bernie is home, and she is able to carry out her plan of giving Bernie her special joint celebration gift that she’ll feel a little less guilty. She’s in the middle of the planning for it all. Knows that the two week holiday she plans to take Bernie on will need careful planning, knows they can’t leave too early after Bernie comes home because Bernie will want to get back to her trauma unit at least for a bit, and then to have the two of them out for two weeks not long after that will require the rotas to be carefully planned to ensure both AAU and the trauma unit within it are able to continue running smoothly. She also has a lot of paperwork to finish before she’s able to entrust anyone with it for too long, doesn’t fancy coming back to that in a state of disarray.

She wants to take Bernie away to France, where they can spend their time filled with a mixture of relaxing and a few more adventurous trips that Bernie will just love. She’s not planned the exact details yet, but she knows there will be a trip to the vineyards, a boat trip and even a trip to the mountains on a safari. There will be a few presents too before that, much sooner after Bernie comes home but she’s hoping the holiday will give them that special time to reconnect.

She brings her thoughts back to her lover and her birthday. Wonders if there is anything they can do on base to make her feel a little bit special, whether Bernie would let them even if there is she isn’t sure, she is definitely a lot more reserved than many. Thrives in the army because she earns their respect through her work and not her personality, though Serena wishes Bernie could see herself the way she’s sees her and thinks maybe then she wouldn’t be quite so reserved about who she is. And then she’s thinking about the stupid distance all over again because how much she wouldn’t give to remind Bernie of all those things right here and now with her lover in her arms.

She knows Bernie wouldn’t want her feeling like this no matter what the occasion, so she decides maybe ironically that it’s time for one of Bernie’s letters. That if anything is going to make her feel better right now it’s Bernie’s words, written just for her.

She knows exactly which one she needs, there aren’t exactly many left but somehow one of the ones that is is perfect. “Serena, open when the distance seems too much...” She decides to sit in the garden to open this one, it is one of Bernie’s favourite places in their house after all and it’s a rather warm late March day.

She sits on the bench, the one they enjoy sharing together on a warm summers evening, when Bernie has a whisky, and she has a shiraz, and they can just be totally themselves. She’s glad that it’ll be May when Bernie comes back, as it’s the perfect excuse to do just that.

My Dearest Serena,

I am so sorry the distance feels too much right now. So sorry that I needed to do this and that it meant I had to leave you for nine months. I’m sorry I can’t just be there at your side when you so clearly need it.

I want you to remember though that as long as we’ve got our love, we can get through anything. I’m not sure if we have 8 months or 1 month left apart, or any number in between but know however many it is our love is strong enough to get through this.

I didn’t know what truly loving someone meant until I met you. I am so grateful that the events in our lives led to us meeting, to becoming friends. I truly believe you were put into my life so that I could understand what it meant to truly give my whole self to someone else. You are my heart and soul, and I will never be able to thank you enough for all you have done for me.

Distance is one of the toughest things a relationship can go through, and I don’t know much about what the nine months will have held or will still hold but I do know that our love for each other is so much tougher than the distance between us. I want to take this opportunity to write down a few quotes that I hope will help you get through the rest of our time apart. That you can remind yourself of every time I feel just a little bit too far away.

Distance means so little when someone means so much.

And I know you really do mean so much to me, more than words could ever say and more than you yourself will probably ever know.

Love will travel as far as you let it. It doesn’t have limits.

I didn’t think it was possible to love without limits until I met you but then you changed my whole outlook on the world, and it was like the best breath of fresh air ever.

Can miles truly separate you from a lover… If you want to be with someone you love, aren’t you already there in their heart?

And I can assure you Serena that you are well and truly in my heart every day, as I know I am in yours, you wouldn’t be reading this if I wasn’t.

I exist in two places, here and where you are.

And I do know that while I’m out here doing what I need you are there looking after the trauma unit for me, keeping that very special place open just for me.

And the final one that I want to leave you with is this one. Years from now, our past will be a story – a story of long days and lonely nights, hard work and lack of sleep.   We’ll live each day having intimately known the pain of being apart.   We’ll appreciate our time together, knowing how lucky we are to have made it through and we’ll find solace in the promise of a future together. This is the one I really want you to remember that yes being apart does hurt, we’d be lying if we said it didn’t, it’s hurts because we care, because we love each other in a way we have never loved anyone else. But it also means that in a few short months when we are back together, we’ll know it’s forever that we can truly continue to build our lives together forever.

I miss you; the distance feels overwhelming to me sometimes too and that’s okay. Remember that I love you more than anything.

All My Love Bernie,

Your Big Macho Army Medic x

And just as she thought she does feel better so much better. Can remind herself like Bernie had said that this is only temporary, and super temporary now with only just over a month left to go! That soon enough she will have Bernie back in her arms and will never have to let her go in the same way again. That while there maybe a week or two where they work opposite shifts and hardly see each other that they will never again be separated for nine months. Never again will she have to go so long without the touch of Bernie’s fingers or a kiss from her lips.

She also reminds herself that it’s okay to have moments where she feels sad, where she finds everything too much because that in itself is a sign of how much Bernie means to her, of how much she loves the other woman. That pain and sadness isn’t always only a bad thing even though it’s not a nice thing to feel it shows she cares, and she really does so deeply.

She decides to spend the rest of the day tending the garden, she isn’t anywhere near as green fingered as Bernie, but she can give it a good go. She can tidy up the flower beds and plant the bulbs now the days are getting warmer, and they don’t risk dying from the frosts that seem to have stopped. She can send Bernie a bluey to let her know what she’s done, tell her what she’s planted and confirm if she needs to do anything special to look after them, and at the end of her letter she can promise Bernie that when she gets home the garden will slowly be starting to bloom and they can spend many an evening together just being themselves and finding solace in the promise of their future together.

[hopip99]

A/N: So, this is my first ever fanfic that I’m writing because there are not enough Two Night Stand fanfics and Alec is adorable. I left it unedited, so I apologize for any grammatical/punctuation errors that might be in there.

Masterlist

Summary: Three years after a rollercoaster of what was supposed to be a one night stand, Alec finds out that his girlfriend is pregnant.

WC: 1897

Warnings: Fainting, Swearing, Mentions of Pregnancy, Financial Troubles

Part 2 Part 3

No Matter What, We’ll Be Okay

New York City was always active, but there was an unusual lull in the activity with the news of an imminent blizzard due to start in a few hours. Blizzards rarely overtook the city in the time that Y/N had lived there, but when they did there was no way anyone could go anywhere for at least a few days. That was how she’d met Alec only a few years ago when she was a fresh college graduate with no idea what direction her life was heading after having her heart crushed by her fiance. At the time she was just looking for a one night stand to try and ease herself back into the dating scene, but she ended up trapped in Alec’s apartment for the entire weekend. The first few hours after her attempted walk of shame were tense, to put it lightly, after Alec had accidentally suggested that she sought out hookups often and she had told him that he was absolutely terrible in bed. After a while, they both relaxed and spent their time really getting to know eachother and they even gave themselves a do-over from their initial mediocre hookup. They’d given eachother criticisms and decided to put their theories to the test “for science” as they’d insisted at the time. What neither of them would admit was that they were already unfortunately and irrevocably smitten with eachother. Y/N had opened up to Alec about some of the things she’d had a lot of trouble discussing with anyone else, and she’d deeply regretted that choice when she discovered the photos of Alec’s girlfriend Daisy. The photos and the closet full of women’s clothes were enough to send Y/N running despite Alec’s desperate pleas for her to hear him out.

The days following her departure from his apartment were torturous for the both of them. Alec was desperately searching for a way to find Y/N so he could apologize properly and Y/N had buried herself in comforters and ate far more ice cream than she should have. It all came to a head when he’d gotten her arrested for breaking into his neighbor’s apartment while they were snowed in. She never had figured out why he’d even imagined that getting her arrested would make her want to see him even though he’d tried to pay her bail. By some miracle, though, it had worked as she said she’d call him if she ever laughed about the situation. Her anger lasted less than an hour, though, because he’d given her a horribly cheesy red balloon that read “I’m Sorry” on one side and “I’m an asshole” on the other.

The memory makes Y/N laugh quietly as she prepares their dinner, unaware that her boyfriend of three years had snuck into their shoebox of an apartment just in time to hear her laugh. Ordinarily, he’d have been content to prop himself against the wall to admire his girlfriend for a moment after returning from work, but his curiosity as to why she was laughing was overpowering. He bites his lip gently in concentration as he sneaks up behind her and winds his arms around her waist, letting out a quiet chuckle as a startled squeak escapes her throat before she relaxes back into his chest.

“What’s so funny?” he asks with a half smile, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek as she simply shakes her head fondly. He raises an eyebrow expectantly as she laughs again and turns the stove off, moving the stir fry she’d cooked away from the heat. “Come on, tell me what’s so funny,” he pleads with a tiny pout as she spins in his grip to drape her arms over his shoulders and press a kiss to his lips.

“I was just thinking about how you managed to worm your way back into my life after being an ass,” she says with a smile. “That stupid balloon should not have won me over as easily as it did, but I don’t regret forgiving you for a moment.” At her admission, Alec smiles and shakes his head as his cheeks and ears flush a light shade of pink in embarrassment. He suppresses the urge to groan at the memory of one of the stupidest stunts he’d pulled in his life, but he was still content with the result of that decision because he managed to win over the girl he loved.

“I’m just glad that the balloon worked, I would’ve been miserable waiting to know if you would ever forgive me for everything I’d put you through back then,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I thought you were planning on making pork chops tonight,” he murmurs in confusion, glancing at the stir fry that sat cooling on the stove. There was no malice behind his words, the confusion came from the fact that Y/N rarely changed the plans she had for the day because it would throw off whatever rhythm she had going for the day. In spite of his confusion, though, he notices the subtle change in her expression. She’s still smiling at him, but the smile had fallen slightly and no longer met her eyes. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asks as he fully registers the anxiety his girlfriend was now feeling.

“I… I couldn’t cook the pork chops tonight,” she says quietly, trying to avoid meeting his eyes. “The smell made me nauseous, so I decided to make something else. I’m just glad I managed to finish it before you made it home.” While what she had said wasn’t completely a lie, she was still working up the courage to tell Alec why she had been feeling sick the past couple of weeks. She’s pregnant and she’d found out a week ago, but she’s terrified of telling Alec because they were already struggling to keep up with their bills even if Alec wouldn’t tell her as much. To her dismay, Alec doesn’t accept the answer and pushes her hair back gently to be able to look into her eyes a little better.

“Babe, you know you can tell me anything. Whatever is bothering you, I really don’t want you having to deal with it by yourself,” he says gently, his expression quickly filling with worry when he sees her eyes fill with tears. “No matter what is going on, we can get through it,” he murmurs, using the pad of his thumb to brush away the tears that begun to slip down her cheek before pulling her head against his chest. Y/N melts into his embrace, allowing a weak whimper to break the silence. She takes a few moments to collect herself, gently pulling herself out of Alec’s hold.

“Alec, you should sit down,” she whispers pleadingly, but Alec refuses. He doesn’t want to sit away from Y/N when she is clearly upset. Begrudgingly, she accepts that Alec isn’t going to sit down and she draws in a deep breath. “Alec, I’m pregnant,” she breathes, searching his face for some hint of how he would handle the knews. She’s not entirely surprised by the sudden blank look on his face, but she had anticipated a look of panic. “Alec?” she asks quietly, snapping in front of his face to try and break him out of the state of shock he was clearly in. The snapping didn’t do much to quell the sudden lightheadedness he felt at the news, he isn’t upset at the prospect of having a child at all. Rather, he is terrified of not being able to provide for his girlfriend and his child while they are already struggling financially. His mind is still reeling at the new information when he feels the world tilt under his feet and black overtakes his vision.

Y/N lets out a panicked gasp when she sees Alec’s eyes roll back and his body start to drop, barely managing to slow his fall enough that he doesn’t slam his head on the ground. She shifts a bit and settles his head onto her lap, tapping his cheek gently in an attempt to wake him. “Alec, sweetheart, I need you to wake up. Passing out is kind of a fucked up response to finding out you’ll be a dad,” she whispers jokingly, trying to calm herself down because panicking would not do any good for her or her presently unconscious boyfriend. Thankfully, it takes just under a minute for his eyes to flutter open. “Hey, asshole,” Y/N whispers. “You scared the shit out of me.” She quickly presses her hand to the center of his chest when he attempts to sit up. “No, you’ve got to lay down for a few more minutes. If you try to get up too fast you’ll just pass out again.”

Alec nods reluctantly, and grabs her hand gently. “Sorry for scaring you,” he murmurs softly, pulling her hand to his mouth to press a gentle kiss on her palm. “I didn’t mean to pass out, I just got dizzy trying to figure out how I’ll be able to take care of you both,” he admits with a small frown. “New York City isn’t exactly a cheap place to live, but I’ll manage. I’ll make sure we’re okay,” he promises, carefully pushing himself into a sitting position before pulling her into his lap. “We’ll manage and we’ll do our best to give the baby the best life we can.”

Y/N smiles slightly, tears filling her eyes again as she buries her face in his neck and wraps her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice shaking as she withholds the sobs she wants to let out. “I should’ve told you sooner, but I was scared. I didn’t think you’d leave, but I really expected you to panic and for this to become a fight,” she murmurs, even though she knew the thought was irrational given that Alec had always been an easy going guy.

Alec nods slightly in understanding, kissing the side of her head gently. “Even if I had panicked immediately, I would’ve tried not to make it a fight,” he says reassuringly. “Besides, I know that you know I’d never intentionally start a fight, especially over something like this. Condoms break, so it’s not your fault. It’s going to be hard and it’s going to take some figuring out, but I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to take care of both of you,” he murmurs, squeezing her gently. “I love you, Y/N.”

She nods quickly against his neck and pulls back some. “I love you too, Alec,” she whispers and presses a gentle kiss to his lips, which he returns with a bit more eagerness. With a small smile, she pulls away from the kiss and giggles at the pout that is now etched on Alec’s lips. “You kissing me like that is the reason we’re going to be parents,” she jokes with a playful, teary eyed smile. “Now, get up. Dinner is getting cold,” she says, standing up and holding her hand out for him to take.

As Alec gets to his feet, his hand still firmly grasping Y/N’s, she knows one thing for certain: no matter what comes their way in the following months, they will be okay.

Part 2 Part 3

Taglist: @milestellersimp

[theshelbyclan]

Memories of Polly Gray: Hail Mary

Summary: Polly’s newfound happiness is only short-lived, when life treats her harshly and only has one woman she can talk to (part 4)

A/N: Don’t ask me how or why, but a few days ago I ended up attending a catholic mass and during said mass, I came up with this idea. Hope this makes sense to anyone else! Also, this series doesn’t get much notes, which is totally fine, but because of that I do want to thank everyone who has supported me in writing this. I personally love it and I’m glad you do too. Thank you

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 Words: 1350

*** 1905

“Hail Mary…”

In those days, life for women and girls was harsh. Many women were stuck at home with their families, raising kids they could hardly afford to have, while the men were off at work or drinking away what little money we did have. In Small Heath, many of us worked outside of the home, in factories down the canal. I did too, until my boy was born. 

Ira didn’t want me to go back to work. He said a princess shouldn’t work in a factory. It was true we worked long hours, got paid poorly and our working environment was often unsafe. In other parts of the city, rich ladies paraded around in fancy fucking dresses, slept in until noon and had women even better than us in their employment. Our worlds hardly ever collided and we knew as little about them as they knew about us. Still my Ira thought me even better than those rich ladies from the other side of town.

For three years, we lived a happy but hard life. Our house at Watery Lane became a home to me, unlike the one I’d grown up in. It was because of Ira and Michael that it felt like it was really mine. For the first time, I dared to put up a painting: the one with the trees that reminded me of my mother. I felt rich, even though the kids in our family still ran with the dogs barefoot.

“Hail Mary, full of grace…”

Next door, Rose and her children lived. Fifteen-year-old Tommy once suggested off-handedly we’d break down the wall and create one big space out of the downstairs of our houses. Who knew we would eventually… But the boys were always playing with Michael. I remember the heaviest rainfall Birmingham ever saw, with little John seeing it as the best opportunity to let Michael go floating down the street in a shoebox. I pretended I didn’t see. A boy needs to be with his cousins, even if they’re like that.

We were a family and even though it wasn’t perfect, I loved them all. It’s true we were poor. We didn’t have money to buy shoes for our children. We were always tired from work. Our boys stole food when we didn’t have enough, and we often didn’t. People called us ‘scum’ and ‘filthy gyspies’. Arthur made some money on the side fighting, Tommy came home with money he’d won on some horse and John lost it again the very next day, while little Ada rolled her eyes like she already understood. My man was drunk, all day, every day. And me? I’d learned how to get by the way we Shelby’s do. We were a family and we weren’t perfect, but I loved it.

1906

“Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee…”

In those days, I still prayed a lot. Sometimes to God, but mainly to his mother. We didn’t pray to the Black Madonna, but she whispered to us in our dreams. I remember reciting those prayers I knew so well. My mother taught me those and whenever poverty tightened its hold, I sought my solace in them. And in those dark, dark days, God was always with me. Until suddenly, he wasn’t anymore.

“Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women…”

The year that followed was the year that tragedy struck. It started with little Ada, who came down with the influenza. My sister’s face came to me in that very moment, and it was like history was repeating itself. So I did all I could: I stayed with her, prayed over her, gave her the herbs she needed and the sips of water that kept her alive. In the end, I begged God to watch over her. I bargained with him through the night, for him just to save this little girl that I’d grown to love so much. In the end, she lived. But I paid a price the very next month. It was a beautiful day when my Ira was taken from me. He died a true river gypsy’s death: crushed between his boat and the dock. He’d been sleeping on the deck for three days. He often did. He was drunk. He usually was. And on the third day, God took him from me.

It was a beautiful day when my Ira was taken from me. God is cruel like that. I should’ve known; he is a man after all. I know that now. But I knew it was the bargain I’d struck, so I forgave him this time. But, God, how I missed my man.

“Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women. And blessed is the fruit of thy womb...”

He was buried like a king, far from the city’s filth: I insisted on that. Some said he was unworthy, because he wasn’t Romani, but just some drunken river gypsy. But I’d been his princess, so he’d be buried like a king.

As they lit the fires, I felt a stirring inside of me. At first, I thought it was the pain of losing him. Then I thought it was anger at the world. Finally, I realised I was carrying his daughter. I remember thinking: God may have abandoned me, but his mother hasn’t.

1908

“Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women. And blessed is the fruit of thy womb. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners…”

Thieves and beggars: that’s all we were. After my Ira’s death, I had to find a way to take care of myself. Luckily, I still had the house and my wits about me. I was my grandfather’s granddaughter after all, so I found ways to pay the bills. Selling gin to poor women was easy. Besides, it got me through the days as well. And it wasn’t like I committed any crime bigger than those of my neighbours.

Still, one of the hags got jealous. New sheets: that was all it took. She called on the parish. “You are not forgiven,” she said. And they took my shining boy of five and my angel girl of two, just like that, ripped from my arms. I clawed at her face and screamed my lungs raw, but it made no difference. “You are not forgiven,” she said. Guilt settled in the pit of my stomach, as I thought of that night I had bargained with God. Then anger and rage took over. “You are not forgiven,” she said.

I never forgave again after that.

“Hail Mary, full of Grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women. And blessed is the fruit of thy womb. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners. Now and at the hour of our death…” In the end, only grief remained.

I became intolerable of people and their ‘small problems’. I just couldn’t pretend to care anymore. I think I became so much harder as a person and I simply struggle to sympathise with other people over trivial things these days. People asking me if I’m alright… Like fuck I am.

But I can’t explain to you what that feels like. It sneaks up on you at random moments through the day. It breaks you in a way that can never be undone. I became a different person, one with a tear in my soul that just sits there to fester. I’ve learned to live with it as a part of me that is so very wrong, but will never change. You think your kids dying is the worst thing that can happen, but it isn’t. Mine didn’t stay dead. They lived, only I didn’t. I died that day.

And at night? It’s worse at night. My sleep is erratic and haunted. I dream of revenge, of blood and of murder. Do you think God forgives me? Fuck God. In the end, only one prayer remained: “Pray for us sinners...”

 *** 

Masterlist

[lebrookestore]

tape 5: play

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x reader

Themes: angst, ex! au, college-ish au, small town au. It goes back and forth a lot

Warnings: heavy angst, bittersweet ending, swearing, its very sad, chenle is a jerk

Wc: 6k

Playlist: 2 kids by Taemin, Gone by Rosé, Instagram by Dean, I still do by Why Don’t We, Believed by Lauv

Taglist: @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @chicksung @1-800-seo @blueprint-han @jenosslut @cupidluvstarrz @kkakkdugi @sweetlyjaem @vera-liscious @leetaeyonglover @kunrengui @unknown5tar @kisshim @intokook @mrkcore @coco-riki

Summary: A year after your boyfriend moved away, you find yourself sitting in your room with five tapes, earphones, a cassette player and what you hoped, and feared, was closure.

Authors Note: hello! this fic was supposed to be a small blurb but then i got inspired and lo and behold its a full fledged fic! I can’t believe I wrote this in two days sdfjfjkfjk. Feedback would be very much appreciated for this, since I’ve never written anything like this before ;-;

Midtown, almost got a place out of midtown, Instead I took a plane out of this town, And missed out on us 

~

It was a sunny Saturday morning, as you pulled into your driveway, coming back from the store. 

Parking the car and getting the bags, you walked up to the door, knocking it and waiting. You were met with your mother’s smiling face as she took one of the bags of groceries from you.

You lived in a small sleepy town, and attended the college there as well, which meant you still stayed with your parents. You were fine with that, you liked living there, and you could forgo the stress and anxiety of having to re adjust to a new place.

This was your home. It always had been.

Of course, you had been on holidays to other places, you had visited the other town, but when it came to it, you had always found yourself back where you started. There was no other place for you, there never would be.

It was the truth, but it held something bitter.

Then again, you had enough going on already, with being in your freshman year, straight out of high school, college life was very different. You had been to a total of two parties so far, courtesy of your best friend— Lia— dragging you with her. 

You had enjoyed them, but it wasn’t something you would voluntarily participate in again.

The workload was something that had definitely changed, bogged down with mandatory lectures and assignments, tests popping up like a bad smell, you had more than enough to occupy you.

“Something has arrived for you!” Your mother said, almost excitedly, “It’s on the table.”

You helped her put away the groceries, walking to your living room, eyes falling on the package sitting on the table. It was somewhat shabbily wrapped, with tape haphazardly stuck on it to keep it together, and a tag pasted on the top.

Picking it up, you pass it from your right hand to your left, feeling its weight, reading the little tag. It held your address, your name and another name you hadn’t seen in almost a year.

Your mind ran at a hundred miles per minute, wondering why it was here, why his name was on it. It made no sense to you.

“Darling? Are you okay?”

Your mothers voice snapped out of your reverie, nodding slowly, “I’ll be in my room, finishing off a project”, you said carefully, trying not to show any sort of emotion as you climbed up the stairs of your house, two at a time, making sure not to drop the package.

Closing the door, you place it on your bed, reading over the tag again, a bitter taste filling your mouth. A name you hadn’t thought of in a year coming back now. It was so random, so absolutely unnecessary.

You curled your fingers around the messy brown paper, tearing it open as your mind reeled. The crackling sound filled the silence as the contents of it make itself known to you.

A shoebox.

It’s dusty, a dark blue colour with a line of red running at its side. There were two holes on either end, lined with metal piping and you could just about make out the nike symbol on the top. You brushed your hand over it, the dust coming off easily and sticking to your fingers.

Why would he send you this?

His name sticks out on the tag like a sore thumb, reminding you of what you lost, mocking you. Always content with where you are, hmm? His voice comes back, as clear as day. It’s as if he’s standing there, giving you his chesire cat grin as he spoke the words.

Zhong Chenle.

Lifting the lid off the box, you’re thrown into confusion. A cassette player, a pair of earphones, and five tapes. Picking up the player, you smile briefly at the dramatic set up. He could’ve called you, or sent a message, so why did he take the pains of sending you something as old and unnecessary as this?

Then again, it had been a year since he stopped picking up your calls, since you stopped trying to call him.  A year since all contact had been cut off, as if he had never existed in the first place.

Sometimes you wondered if Chenle had been a hallucination. An imaginary friend.

Friend.

The questions filter in. Why? It had been a year, so why had he sent you this now? You had finally told yourself you were over it, that you didn’t need an answer, but somehow as soon as you did that, you found yourself sitting in your room on your bed with what could be it.

The tapes were numbered in permanent marker in his messy handwriting, from one to five, indicating the order in which they were to be listened to in. You picked up the first, slotting it in the player and waiting.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for.

You pressed play. There was crackling, but only for a moment, until  it went silent. Maybe this was all a mistake, maybe this wasn’t even happening. Maybe-

i] tape 1: you deserve to hate me

Hey

His voice cut through your spiraling thoughts as you froze in place. He sounded the same as you last heard him, a little muffled due to the recording but the same. At the same time he sounded like a stranger. There was silence for a moment again, before he spoke up.

This is stupid isn’t it?

You felt the urge to answer, but your mouth went dry. It had been so, so long, and even though you had adequate time to get over him, it suddenly felt as if you were treading unfamiliar territory once again. 

I-I don’t know why I’m doing this. I think it’s because I feel so horrible, I need an outlet. I guess speaking it into existence and recording it makes is my outlet. Making it all real.

But that’s fucking terrifying.

You don’t think you’re following, confused once again. 

Y/n

You hear him take a deep breath right after your name, and it sends a chill down your spine, hearing him say your name once again. You had almost forgotten how it sounded.

I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this, or listen to it. If you don’t I’ll actually be glad. You don’t deserve to, I’ve been a jerk to you. I’m sorry. I hope you hate me, I definitely deserve it.

I’m moving in two months.

The realization hits you, this had been recorded a year ago as well, two months before he left without a word or warning. It was old, he was here when he recorded it.

You didn’t quiet know how you felt, not yet anyways.

And you won’t know until I’m gone.

I’m moving to Korea, and I refuse to tell you, even if it makes me the bad guy, even if it feels worse, because that’s my dream. 

I got signed by a record label after sending them that demo I did —remember it? We both went to the studio together, you listening outside as I sang. You were right by my side, all the time.

Except now when I record this, except when I leave. 

I refuse to tell you, because the moment I do I know it’ll be real, realer than it is now as I say it. I don’t want to see the look on your face when I say I’m going, I know it’ll make me want to stay, but I don’t want to stay.

You knew exactly what he was talking about, you could recollect that day clearly. There was a small studio a little outside the town. That day, he had booked it for two hours to record a demo, his singing mentor with him and you tagging along.

It had always been like that, the two of you against the world, until, of course he left.

I physically can’t stay, I hate it here Y/n. It’s not for me, I want to get out, that had always been the plan. I want to get out and be free, I want to achieve my dreams. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe I don’t deserve a minute more of your time, but I want it all.

That’s why I’m not going to tell you —so I can have it all, at least until I don’t have you.

But you, you don’t deserve this, do you? Of course you don’t, but I suppose you’re the one with the shitty luck, you’re the one who ended up with me and now I’m going to hurt you. 

He laughs a dry, breathy laugh. It was half hearted, as if he was trying to get himself to believe the situation was funny. 

It’s not your fault I-fuck I’m sorry.

You heard a click and the tape died off, he had stopped recording there. The first tape was finished, and honestly, you didn’t know how to react. One part of you wanted to feel nothing, you wanted to put the player and the five tapes back into the box and send them away, or lock them in your closet to never find them again.

But the other part of you wanted to know more. You wanted to know how he felt, what went through his mind during that time. You wanted to know just how you lost Chenle, the first boy you ever loved.

Suddenly you felt overwhelmed, vulnerable almost. It was as if someone had opened up an old wound and left it open.

You got to your feet abruptly, pulling the earphones from your ears and dropping them on your bed, taking a step away and blinking rapidly. You couldn’t get caught up in the past, you couldn’t put yourself through that again.

But it was hard when the past was in your present.

Wasted, and all of my regret, I can taste it, If I had a time-machine, I would take it, And make it back to us

~

That night you couldn’t sleep.

The box sat on your desk, right next to your laptop, staring at you. You turned around on your bed, looking the other way, only to be met with the white of the walls.

You never liked the colour white.

It was too plain, too open for interpretation. It never had a solid answer. You liked stability, you wanted something permanent. You were the type of person that needed that reassurance.

Perhaps that’s why you were happy where you were, you didn’t find the appeal in starting over, because that meant nothing was certain. You stayed where you were because everything was already laid out for you.

It was like a colouring book in your little town, the lines all set out, everything drawn for you. Change meant you had to sketch everything from scratch. What if you messed up?

Needless to say, it was a good thing you weren’t an art major.

“This is ridiculous”, you whispered to yourself, sighing at the fact that you were now talking to yourself. You rolled over so that you were lying on your back, staring at the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars shone with their dull green light. You remember the day you had put them up, with Chenle.

You shared a lot of memories with him.

“Fucking hell”, you hissed, sitting up, swinging your legs off the edge of your bed and walking to your desk, sitting on the chair. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you picked up the second tape, inserting it in the player and putting the earphones on, waiting for it to begin.

ii] tape 2: milk before cereal

I know I’m making some terrible decisions, I really do, but if there’s one thing I stand by, its the fact that milk definitely goes before the cereal.

Why am I talking about this?

Well, because today you came over, Y/n, you came over and the two of us were watching a movie, and in the middle of it, you decided you wanted to have cereal, specifically frosted flakes.

So what do we do? We have cereal because I can’t say no to you. You’re welcome by the way, honestly, I deserve the boyfriend of the year award.

A moment of silence.

No I don’t. I really don’t.

You bit your lower lip, shutting your eyes. It was the way he switched, the way his demeanor changes so suddenly that made you want to scream. Sometimes it felt like he was telling a story, one you knew and loved.

Only for the next moment to bring you down to reality, reminding you that all stories don't have happy endings.

Anyways, we got the cereal and you objected when I put the milk first, saying that it was wrong, but how? In what way? Here me out Y/n, I shall tell you why I’m right, even If I’m not actually talking to you.

You couldn’t help but scoff at this, shaking your head at Chenle. He had always had a flair for being dramatic in the littlest ways possible. It was endearing.

Putting the cereal first means it sits in the milk for longer! If you put the cereal last, you can have it crunchy! Isn’t that ten times better? Unless you’re one of the devils spawn and like soggy cereal. If so I’m hypothetically breaking up with you right here right now.

Ah...bad wording. I keep forgetting I have to break up with you. I don’t want to, is that selfish?

You deserve the truth, if only I was strong enough to give it to you. Staying silent is so much easier.

It’s not lying, not completely anyways. I’m not lying if I don’t tell you at all. I suppose it’s a half truth then, with the truth hidden in plain sight. 

*click*

Lying. That’s what he did, even though he spent the last few minutes of the tape trying to justify it, he lied. He trampled all over your heart without a single warning.

You had trusted Chenle, having known him since you were thirteen. He had completely destroyed that trust. Something like that couldn’t be fixed so easily, not even if he had sent you these tapes.

Then again, you didn’t know why he sent them.

You retreated to your bed, turning away from the tapes, the words and memories they held, facing white once again.

You had met Chenle when the two of you were thirteen, in eight grade math. The boy was failing the class, and one day you found him sitting early morning in class, with his head in his hands as he groaned over some sort of equation.

You had offered to help, and the smile he gave was the brightest one you had ever seen, he was practically grinning from ear to ear. That was the beginning of your friendship, and the two of you were inseperable.

Ninth grade it was confirmed that the two of you were best friends, sitting together, complaining about teachers together, going places together so your parents didn’t need to tag along.

In your last year of high school the two of you started dating, and when you had told your parents, they were ecstatic, confessing they had always thought the two of you would end up together.

He was always there for you, every time you needed him. You could give him a call and he would be outside your door. If you were feeling insecure or scared, he was always there to hype you up.

You had been best friends before, you were lovers then, and it was amazing. You loved everything about being with Chenle. You loved everything about him, from his toothy grin to his obnoxiously loud laugh.

You loved the way his eyes sparkled when he had an idea (which, for the most part, were absolutely terrible. Needless to say the two of you got in trouble a lot), when he sang for you when you stayed over, the way he would always make sure you were never cold.

You loved him.

It was written in the stars, you were meant to be, it was the perfect combination. Chenle was the right person for you- the perfect person.

A year later you woke up with him gone, no texts, no warnings. He had just gone, leaving you alone.

Right person, wrong time.

Monday came around sooner than you thought it would, the weekend passing in a blur as you walked out of your first class, spotting Lia leaning against the wall outside your class, scrolling through something on her phone.

She was an exchange student, not originally from your town, but had fit right in. Sometimes you wished you could be like that.

“Oh! You’re out! Listen, there’s a party on Friday and you’re coming with me”, she stated. It wasn’t a request, it was a fact, you were to go with her. In her own words, ‘if I didn’t exist you’d probably have no social life.’

To be fair, she wasn’t wrong.

You nodded defeatedly, walking with her down the hallway, “I assume you want to go because of the cute new guy?”

She glared, but didn’t refute your accusation, “His name is Mark”, she said, “And that is none of your business.”

You snickered, “Oh it so is, you like him don’t you? Is this going to be another one of your crushes?”

Lia was notorious for having a new crush almost every week, being a very flighty person, her mind changed before you could even say her name. This was a bit of a problem, considering you went to her for advice a lot.

Her indecisive nature was not the best for that.

She rolled her eyes at this, “He’s cute, why not? Wonder if I can get him to dance with me at the party. You’re going to be my hype woman-”

“And the sober buddy?”

Lia ignored that.

“Also there’s this new singer”, she said, handing you one of her earbuds, “apparently he came from here!”

Taking one of the earbuds, you were hit with a familiar voice. It sounded amazing honestly, catchy, everything a song needed, but it was the voice that hit you. You didn’t even need to ask Lia for the singer, swallowing the lump in your throat and glancing at her phone, which confirmed your suspicions.

Filling with some sort of dread, your hands immediately went to hold your hand, specifically the bottom where the cassette player and the tapes were. You had been carrying them around with you, as if scared they would disappear if you left them alone.

“Isn’t he good?”

You nodded, not daring to answer as you bit your lower lip, “Hey Lili, I need to use the washroom so see ya later”, you said, handing her the earbud and taking off in the other direction, pushing open the doors to the washroom and getting into one of the stalls.

You had stalled listening to the next tape all Sunday, you didn’t even know why, but hearing him sing, that fact that he had actually made it, it struck something in you. You wanted to feel proud of him, but all you felt was bitter.

Was it a coincidence that this new singer had come out- Chenle himself- right when you received the tapes?

Pushing the top of the toilet down, you took a seat, taking the player out and plugging in, you pressed play for the third tape, waiting for it to begin playing.

tape iii] ill miss our dates

Remember when we went for that field trip? Ninth grade? We sat in the back of the bus together avoiding the stares of our teachers when they told us to sit down?

Then they pulled us apart? Yeah, mean fuckers.

Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about, I just felt like reminiscing for a sec there, but today we went of a date! Well, I mean we got ice cream and then went to the park, but hey, it was fun.

You smiled. He had always jumped from one topic to another without any meaning to either. Sometimes it was a frustrating habit, (you had been on the receiving end of these useless conversations several times, which ended with you glaring at him exasperatedly), but for the most part, extremely comical.

I’m going to miss that. I’m going to miss you. Your little smile — have I ever told you just how pretty your smile is? Your eyes light up and crinkle at the sides and its something I don’t think I’ll ever forget, even when I’m gone. 

You clutched the cassette player, marveling at the irony. He was talking about your smile, but why did you want to cry?

It’s a month left now, and I want to make the most of it. Tomorrow I’m taking you to the amusement part and then next week I’m surprising you with dinner. I guess doing things for you —for us — makes me feel better, like I’m compensating.

You deserve the world Y/n, and I want to see that world while you’re happy where you are.

You don’t deserve having to deal with me.

*click*

Your eyes burned, because you remembered each of those events. You had been so happy, so overjoyed at them. They burned with tears because there it was again, that reminder that you were destined to be stuck right where you were, because you were that idiot who was content.

But if someone, anyone, asked you at that very moment if you were happy, the answer would’ve been an outright no.

1 YEAR AGO

~

“Hey Chenle?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you want to leave?”

The boy thought about this for a second, before smiling wistfully, “Don’t you want to know how it is outside home?”

“But everything I need is here.”

Your eyes held a question, you were genuinely baffled by his reasoning, the way he was so stuck of getting out. You studied your bewildered expression, shaking his head. “You’re lucky”, he said finally, “You know exactly what you want.”

“Of course I don’t, but I know what I need Chenle, and that’s all around me.”

He shook away his other thoughts, “Hey maybe we’ll go exploring the world together some day. 

You blinked, “You want me there with you?”

He nodded, grinning widely, “I want to take you along, Imagine, it’ll be fucking awesome, and hey this time there will be no teachers to separate us. We can even stand in the bus-if we’re taking a bus, that it.”

You laughed, “Maybe”, you mused, looking back down at your phone, “While I don’t exactly see the appeal, it would be fun to be with you.”

Chenle’s smile faltered, but he didn’t let it fall completely, wrapping his arms around you and sighing, closing his eyes and whispering something just loud enough for you to hear.

“Maybe.”

Why did it feel this way?

Chenle was right- you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to feel this way at all. It had been a year, so why did it affect you?

Why was it all happening at once?

You clicked your tongue, eyeing the player with contempt. You felt pathetic for being curious, for still feeling so attached to old news. It wasn’t as if it was going to change anything, so why?

Why did you still want to know?

Curiosity killed the cat. You wondered if knowing would somehow kill you.

No one was at home currently, so you sat in the living room on your couch. The items you were trying so hard to ignore were sitting on the small table in front of the couch, as if waiting for you to pick them up once again.

You wondered if you should tell Lia and ask her opinion about the situation. She may not be that helpful, but hell, she could help you burn the tapes if worse came to worse.

Sometimes you wished you had never met Chenle, that your history with him could be erased from your memories. You wished it never existed because fuck, it still hurt.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and pressed play.

tape iv] firsts with you

Do you remember our first kiss?

We were eighteen, in my room, playing Jenga. That was a year ago, oh god, I can’t even imagine, how has it been a year? You were wearing one of my shirts and jeans, your hair was in a ponytail. The two of us were sitting on the carpet on my floor.

You had successfully gotten one of the wooden pieces out of a risky area of the tower, but then it was my turn, it feel to the ground, destroyed.

I blamed you, and you laughed, and our banter continued. We argued and at one point I started tickling you to get you to shut up, because honestly-Jesus Christ Y/n you’re fucking stubborn.

Anyways I ended up on top of you and the two of us were laughing. You looked so pretty, hair messily scattered around your face as you attempted to get out of my hold. 

I leaned down and kissed you.

Your throat closed up as he spoke. Your eyes stung and you raked your hand through your hair, biting down on your lower lip. The way he was speaking about it, as if he would do anything to go back, it struck something in you.

Because if you had the chance, you would go back as well.

You tasted like that strawberry chapstick you liked to wear. I could tell you were surprised, because you didn’t kiss me back for a good two seconds  —which, by the way sent me into a panic for a moment there.

But then you kissed me, and fuck, it was like everything had stopped. I couldn’t think for a second, it was like the world had started spinning around me, and the only thing that was keeping me grounded, was you.

Was it supposed to hurt like this?

You sucked in a sharp breath, fingers fisted the material of your shirt as you tried keeping your composure. You didn’t want to cry, but he was making it so, so hard for you. 

You remembered how it felt when he kissed you, you were legitimately so confused, was he really kissing you? Your best friend, the boy you had loved quietly for so long, kissing you?

Chenle was your first kiss, and it was the most perfect first kiss you could have ever asked for, even if you were on the floor, with random Jenga blocks scattered around the two of you.

The smile you gave me after I pulled away, I wish I could remember it forever. It was goofy as you burst into giggles, and asked me, “What was that for?”

I blinked in surprise, wondering how you seemed so normal, when for me everything had changed. I had kissed my best friend, the one girl I care the most about.

I must have looked like a tomato oh god.

Instead of waiting for my to answer, you sat up, pulling me into another kiss. This time it was me who was unprepared. The kiss was messy, it had no structure or plan, but I realized in that moment, that I really liked kissing you, and I wanted to do it more often.

You became my girlfriend.

The wistful tone he was using was starting to affect you. You had loved Chenle, almost too much. You could almost feel that nostalgic happiness you felt that day when he kissed you for the first time, the disbelief and joy that wrapped around the two of you. 

A wave of sadness followed that nostalgia.

Our first date was so fucking awkward. We were at that little cafe you loved, you ordered a cheesecake and I got a smoothie, and then we sat in silence for a good five minutes.

It really shouldn’t have been that painful, considering we knew everything about each other already, then again that might be why it was awkward, I had nothing to ask you about.

So naturally I brought up school and that started it, the two of us complaining about the amount of assignments we had, and Mrs. Choi’s annoying squeaky voice- I swear to god that woman took a second for each word.

But I digress.

Slowly our conversation felt normal again, it was just us, eating cheesecake and drinking smoothies, together.

That wave of sadness crashed down upon you like a tsunami, trying to snuff you out. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, you were struggling to keep yourself together. You were struggling to stay afloat, you had lost any leverage you had that was holding you up.

You couldn’t fight the waves.

My flight is in two hours. It’s four in the morning and we’re about to walk through the door and get to the airport, but I wanted to talk to you once again, even if we’re not really talking.

I’m pathetic.

You’re sleeping, in your bed at your home, you don’t know I’m going because I’m the coward that refused to tell you the truth. I’ll be gone by the time you wake up and then you’ll know.

You’ll know how much of a waste of time I was.

And then you were angry.

You were angry because he had no right to just come back into your life like this, no fucking right to make you cry. He wasn’t even here, but somehow he had managed to make you fall apart just with his words, with his voice.

He had no right to tear your world apart, the little composure you had standing. You had finally accepted the fact that he was gone, you had moved on, and even tried to forget.

But here he was, making sure you could never forget.

You hated how selfish he was, how absolutely fucking oblivious. He had no clue, not even one as to how you felt when he just disappeared from your life, as if he never existed. He had broken you and here he was, breaking you again.

With trembling hands, you stopped the tape from playing any further, angry tears making their way down your face as you flung the player across the room. You had no intention of listening any further, you didn’t want to, you didn’t care.

Closure hurt more than him leaving.

You buried your head in your hands, letting yourself fall apart, but just this once.

tape iv] continued [unheard]

I’m sorry Y/n. I’m so fucking sorry. 

You don’t have to believe me, because I’m leaving anyways, so I suppose that cancels out my apologies huh? I’m the worst person you ever met. I’m not stopping, I’m not going to leave you a text.

Because I don’t want to hurt you anymore.

I’ll be gone before we could ever be.

Should’ve believed in us, while we existed, cuz now the whole things fucked, and just a figment of my imagination

~

Time heals all hurt, and reminders bring them back, cutting through your skin like a knife, making you bleed.

A week later, you found yourself sitting in your favorite cafe, the same cafe Chenle talked about in the last tape. You ordered a cheesecake and a smoothie, inserting the fifth and final tape into the player.

The last time you did this, you were left hurt and distraught, promising yourself you would never go back to listen to him again. You had put the shoebox in your closet, hiding it behind your clothes that hung from the rack.

Yet here you were.

You didn’t bother finishing the fourth tape, you didn’t see the need to. 

This tape, you observed, was newer looking, with less scratches on the plastic, even the marker on the side looked more recent, a little rushed if you went into detail. 

The cheesecake and drink arrived, and you took a bite, pressing play.

tape v] play

Hey.

He sounded a little different too, older perhaps. His voice was smoother, but he sounded unsure of himself. It sounded as if he was trying to figure out how to approach the topic. He was being cautious.

It’s been a while. I...I don’t know why I’m doing this. There’s no point- you’re not even here. I found these stupid tapes yesterday in my dorm when I was cleaning out and gave them a listen.

Silence.

I envy you, Y/n. I wish I was like you, happy wherever I was. But I’m not, and I probably caused you great unhappiness while trying to search for my own- but I was happy with you, so happy it was ridiculous.

I sabotaged that.

You sighed, realizing you felt nothing. You were tired of crying over Chenle, you were done doing that. Instead you felt empty, like you had been tired out, like it didn’t matter anymore. At this point you were to get it over with, to finish it off on  clean ending note.

My song comes out next week, and it’ll be done. I’ve made it Y/n, I’ve gotten to where I wanted to be, the place I had worked so hard to get to. I’ve sacrificed so much for this and it’s all been worth it- except one thing.

I don’t expect you to listen to my song, I just wanted to tell you. I..I hope you’re proud of me. Even if I was a jerk, I hope you can be proud, at least a little bit, because then I’ll have finally made it.

I miss you.

The same words are at the tip of your tongue, I miss you, I miss you so fucking much, but they never came out. They didn’t have to, it would be useless. He would never hear them.

Instead, you swallowed them back down.

And even though I made fun of you for staying home, I hope you’re happy like I am, I hope we’ll meet again one day. If we do I challenge you to a game of Jenga, loser buys the winner ice cream.

I-fuck this is the hardest part- but I hope you’ve moved on. One of us has to.

*click*

You don’t take the tape out of the player, you don’t touch it at all. You feel oddly calm as you take another bite of your cheesecake, savoring the strawberry reserve that it came with it. You could almost imagine yourself at eighteen again sitting opposite your new boyfriend.

You missed it, the memories that came along with it. That was it, you missed the feelings you had.

But you were okay. You would be okay right where you were, because that’s where you belonged. It hurt, yeah, but it had hurt back then as well. Now it was just a dull ache, all that was left was regret.

Regret that it didn’t work out, regret over unspoken words and unnecessary pain.

A familiar song filled the cafe as you smiled somewhat sadly, leaning back in your seat and closing your eyes.

“I’m proud of you Chenle”, you whispered, “Because you did what I couldn’t”

You left the cafe a little later, with the cassettes in your bag, an empty plate and the smoothie sitting on the table, untouched. After all, that smoothie wasn’t for you.

There was nothing to wait for anymore. You had loved and you had lost, Chenle was a stranger with your secrets and a familiar voice and that was it. 

You had forgiven him a long time ago, even without him being deserving of it. Now with all the loose ends being tied up, it felt like you could finally let go of him, you could finally move on.

And forget.