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suniix · 3 months ago

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07 | miyamura x reader

synopsis | attempting to reconnect with an old friend proves to be a struggle when you can’t find them, even more so when you realize they might’ve changed a lot

word count | 1.5k

note | if you’re still reading this tysm 💛 every time i get a nice comment i get a burst of motivation to finish this lolol

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You take back what you said about fate.

Standing outside of class you eyed everyone who passed by, occasionally earning back a few confused glares. Despite standing there for several minutes you had yet to see the person you were looking for.

The day prior you talked with Miyamura about the mysterious pink guy and he gave you the confidence to try and talk to Yanagi. After all, you had nothing to lose.

The only problem now was that he was nowhere to be seen. After seeing him repeatedly for days he has now suddenly disappeared.

You tapped your foot impatiently. Maybe I should take this as a sign..

Hori peaks out from behind the door. “(Y/n)? What are you doing out here? Class is about to start.”

“I was just.. nevermind..” You sighed and walked back into class.

Hori eyed you weirdly, but said nothing as she walked back to her seat. She had noticed your odd behavior as soon as she saw you enter the class, but didn’t know how to go about asking you what was wrong. Though if she were honest, she had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with the pink haired guy from the other day.

As soon as the two sit down the teacher comes in and starts the lesson. Hori noticed you occasionally looking outside the class window showing the hallway.

You went the whole class without seeing him walk down the hall and eventually the whole school day.

The hallways were unsurprisingly empty.

After lunch you gave up on finding Yanagi, thinking maybe he didn’t show up to school today. When school ended the group decided to stay after class for a bit to continue working on a group writing assignment that needed to be turned in soon.

Everyone noticed you were sulking a bit while working so they called for a snack break, asking you to go get the drinks. You agreed, hoping that the walk would help clear your mind. Now you were on your way back with their drinks.

Maybe I should forget about this whole thing.. You thought to yourself. While walking back you were so lost in thought that you didn’t see where you were walking and bumped into something.

Or rather— someone.

You lost your balance and landed on the floor, the four soda cans in your hands rolling away.

Shit! That’s not—

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” The boy apologized, scrambling to sit up.

When you looked up your jaw dropped. The boy with pink hair and pink eyes, Akane Yanagi, had finally appeared.

He helped you pick up a can before helping you up, continuing to apologize for bumping into you. “I’m really sorry! I don’t have my glasses on and my vision is horrible so I didn’t see you!”

You waved him off while giggling. “Don’t worry about it! No harm done!” Well not yet anyway.. I should probably warn them before they open the soda..

“Still, I feel bad, where are you going? I’ll help you carry them.”

Your eyes lit up at his suggestion. It seemed after your misfortune the stars had aligned for you, maybe it was fate after all.

You handed him two cans and led the way to the room you were working in, making sure to walk at a slow pace to drag out your time with him.

“I didn’t expect to see anyone here since school ended, are you in a club?” You asked, glancing his way.

Now that you got a good look at him, you had to admit, he was really cute. His pink side bangs were cut at a questionable angle, but that only added to his charm in your opinion. His eyes matched the shade of his hair that you couldn’t help but stare; his beauty was on par with Miyamura.

Yet at the same time, something about him seemed different than the boy from your memory.

“I actually forgot something in my class. I was on my way out when I ran into you.” He chuckled softly in embarrassment. “Again, I’m sorry about that..”

You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it! It’s sort of my fault too since I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

His expression tells you he still very obviously feels bad about the situation, but what’s done is done. In fact, you were glad you ran into each other, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“By the way, what’s your name?”

“My name? Oh right, sorry, it’s Yanagi Akane.”

“Nice to meet you Yanagi, I’m (Y/n).” You giggled. Despite his shyness he was quite easy to talk to, just like Miyamura.

“What are you doing with all these sodas?” He asked curiously. You appreciated his attempt to keep the conversation going.

“I was working on a group project with some friends and got sent out to get drinks.” The door to the classroom came into view and you groaned when you noticed the door was shut.

“Don’t worry, I got it.”

He opened the door and you thanked him, walking in with the drinks. Miyamura was the first to perk up and greet you. “You took awhile, did something happen?” He asked while helping you place the drinks down on the table.

“Oh not really, I just ran into him and he helped me carry the sodas back here.” You gestured to Yanagi, who stood behind you nervously.

Everyone greeted him and he greeted them back. Tooru was the first to reach for his drink.

“Hey Tooru, you might wanna wait a bit before opening that..” You said while backing away.

He shot you a curious look but fiddled with the tab despite your warning. “What are you talking about?—“

Tooru opened the can and (unexpectedly) the soda quickly rushed out, bursting into the air for a couple of seconds before fizzing out and running down the sides of the can. He yelped and held it away from his body in a panic.

“Napkins! Please someone get napkins!”

Yuki rummaged through her bag while Hori quickly gathered the work they’ve done so the soda wouldn’t splatter all over it. Miyamura grabs the napkins from Yuki’s hands and helps Tooru.

“Oh no, did that happen when?!—” Yanagi quickly turned to you for confirmation and all you could do was slowly nod, already knowing he was going to feel bad about the spill.

He quickly began to help clean up the spill on the floor while you got more napkins from the back of the classroom. Once again you felt something strange. While his shy demeanor certainly reminded you of your old friend, there was something about him that didn’t seem right. He was.. different.

You shook the doubts from your mind.

After all, it has been years, it shouldn’t be shocking if he changed a bit.

If Miyamura knew you’d be attached to Yanagi at the hip, he would’ve thought twice about telling you to ‘reconnect’ with him.

“Hey, Miyamura.”

He looked up to see Hori pointing towards the balcony outside the class. “Come with me.”

The way she said it indicated there was no room for him to deny, so he hesitantly stood from his chair and followed her. Immediately the fresh air hit him, it was a nice change compared to the stuffy classroom they were sitting in. The gentle breeze continued to graze Miyamura’s cheeks; it was the transition period between seasons. Change would be coming soon.

“Alright, talk to me.”

His head snapped in her direction, watching her casually lean against the railing. “Um, what?” His confusion was obvious from his tone.

“You’ve been moping around these past few days. The only thing that’s changed is (Y/n), so, something obviously happened.” Hori explained, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Oh, no it’s not what you think!” Miyamura quickly shook his head.

He explained the situation, how Yanagi reminds you so much of his old self that you mistook him for Miyamura, and how he possibly told you to try and talk to him—

“Ow!” Miyamura rubs his shoulder. “What was that for?”

“I can’t believe!—” Hori groans into her hands. “That was the perfect opportunity to tell her it was you!”

“I know! It’s just..” He hesitates. “I’m just scared.”

His words make Hori pause. “Of?”

“What if I tell her and she sees how boring I am? What if I don’t meet her expectations? Its been years, Hori. I’ve changed. What if she doesn’t like the way I’ve changed?”

“Miyamura.” Hori places a hand on his shoulder. “No one can expect a person to stay the same way forever. You’ve changed a lot since I’ve met you, which is probably why she doesn’t remember you, but that isn’t a bad thing. You’re the person she gravitates to the most, she likes you a lot. That should mean something, right?”

He processes her words for a minute before realizing she was right, like usual.

“You’re right.” He chuckled.

thank you for reading till the end! reblogs are greatly appreciated :D

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#hori san to miyamura kun #horimiya #horimiya x reader #izumi miyamura x reader #izumi miyamura #miyamura x reader #[📝 sunni writes]

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moonlight0934 · 25 days ago

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Nothing Else To Tell You

Damian is sitting at the table for breakfast when Bruce sits down next to him.

“Hey, Damian.”

“Hello, Father.”

“I was wondering if we could talk later. There’s something I wanted to discuss.”

“Of course, what is it?”

“I wanted to ask about your lifestyle before coming here. I want to make sure that you can adjust as easily as possible.”

Damian hums, nodding though he’s sure there’s some kind of ulterior motive.

“I would offer to do it now, but I have to leave for work in fifteen minutes.”

“That’s fine. We can talk later.”

“Ok, we’ll talk after you get back from school.” Bruce stands up, placing a gentle hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yes you will.”

Bruce smiles as he walks away. Damian finishes his breakfast, then gets ready for school.

I don’t understand why I have to do this, but at least I’m going to learn more about American etiquette.

“Make sure you’re on your best behavior,” Alfred says as he drives Damian to school.

Damian scoffs, looking out of the window with a frown. He heads into his class, sitting in his seat. His teacher makes him come up and introduce himself before class actually starts. He has to do that with every class that day, and he has no idea why. He doesn’t ask though since no one else seems to think it’s odd. Everything is fine until lunch. Damian walks outside to eat lunch, and he immediately notices five kids following him. Damian sets his lunch down, and turns around.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, we were just curious about you, so we figured we could eat lunch together,” one of the girls in the front says.

Damian narrows his eyes. Then he hears Bruce’s words from the other day in his head.

You should try to make some friends when you start going to school, Damian. It’ll be good for you.

“Alright, were you wanting to head back inside?”

“No, we’re ok out here. Do you eat outside often?” the girl asks.

“Yes, I like nature. May I ask for your name?”

“Oh, sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name is Isabella, but you can call me Isa. It’s nice to meet you.”

Damian nods, and finds a spot to sit down. He opens his lunch box and pulls out his sandwich.

“What kind of food do you like?” Isa asks while the rest of her friends just stand in the background.

Damian glances at them, feeling on edge and confused. He ends up spending lunch talking to Isa, but he only feels more confused by the time Alfred comes to pick him up.

“You can head straight down to the cave. Master Wayne will come down when he gets home from work. He’ll want to talk to you before training today.”

Damian nods, but he does get changed into work out clothes before heading down there. Tim is wrapping up his hands, but he’s the only one down there. He glances at Damian as Damian walks over to him.

“Are you going to stab me again?” he asks.

Damian shakes his head. “I actually have to ask you something since you’re my only option.”

“Ok, shoot,” Tim says as Damian also starts wrapping up his hands.

“I had something odd happen today at school.” He explains what happened with Isa.

“That is a little odd. I don’t know why her friends wouldn’t have talked to you. Maybe she pressured them into going out there.”

“Isn’t it odd that she talked to me like that?”

“Um… like what? She seemed normal to me. That’s probably just the fact that you haven’t really interacted with many people your age.”

“My upbringing wasn’t that odd. Yes, I know the murder and stuff is odd, but isn’t it normal to be worried about saying the wrong thing? Isn’t it normal to try to avoid messing something up by being more cautious, so you don’t get punished?”

“Well, people do tend to worry about saying the wrong thing. However, they don’t normally get punished if they do. I did, but she’s not from high society, is she? That’s why I was held to the standard that I was, and I quickly learned that not everyone had that standard.”

“No one is going to hit her if she does or says the wrong thing?”

“Hit her? That’s not punishment, that’s abuse.”

Damian hums as Bruce walks down the stairs.

Was all of that not normal? I don’t understand. Am I not supposed to tell them? Why couldn’t Omi have walked me through what I should and shouldn’t say before I got here?

“Damian, come here. Tim, we’re going to talk before we start training. Can you go do your warm up in the living room?”

Tim nods, giving Damian one last glance before heading up the stairs.

“So, you can start wherever you want,” Bruce says, sitting Damian down beside him.

Damian looks down at his hands.

What do I do? What should I say?

Damian starts to describe the way his schedule looked, then describes the softest parts of his training. He leaves out all of the punishments, and all of the hardest things his mother and grandfather had him do. He leaves out the details about the important stuff, and focuses more on other things. He talks about the way he likes to eat, and how he likes to keep his personal spaces. Bruce is watching him with a slight frown, but he doesn’t comment until Damian is done.

“So, is that it? Your training doesn’t sound as intense as you made it seem before.”

Damian nods.

“I have nothing else to tell you.”

“Ok, well, I guess that’s ok. I’ll have to rework your training schedule then. You can head back upstairs now, and send Tim down on your way up.”

Damian nods, his face red. He runs up the stairs.

“Drake, Father wishes to see you downstairs.”

Tim nods. “Are you alright? You look kind of embarrassed.”

“Leave me alone.”

Damian heads up the stairs to his room.

Omi is going to be angry that I made my training easier. I’m sure they’re talking about me. Does he know I’m lying? Is he going to call Omi?

Damian drops his head into his hands. “This is fine. I’ll figure this out.”

#angstober 2024 #angstober #no.30 #batman #batfamily #damian wayne #bruce wayne #tim drake #angst #child abuse #damian al ghul #whump writing #writing challenge

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jasontoddsmommyissues · 1 year ago

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Unsmooth Operator

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Femme!Reader

Summary: It’s summer in Hawkins and Eddie finds himself caught up on the cute girl working at the record store in the mall

Warnings: Reader uses she/her pronouns, brief mentions of sexual content (nothing sexual actually happens), swearing, potentially lethal levels of adorableness

A/N: First of all, sorry it’s been so long since I posted my last fic. My poor little ADHD self is a slow writer, I’m afraid. But anyway, I kind of wrote this as a sort of prequel to my Henderson!Reader fic, but there’s no direct mention of Reader being related to anyone, so you can either read it as that or not. Also, special thanks to Mr. Joseph Quinn for confirming that Eddie Munson has no game.

My Master List | Ao3

It’s June in Hawkins and the summer heat has already grown practically unbearable. The shitty window A/C unit Eddie’s been using has finally crapped out, and in the heat of the day the trailer is approximately the temperature of the sun. Mercifully, he’s found a sweet, air conditioned refuge in the newly built Starcourt mall, a temple to 20th century decadence and consumerism that also happens to be a very pleasant temperature inside.

Jeff and Gareth are tagging along today, which is fun except for the quick pit stop they had to make at the homegoods store so Gareth could pick up some new linens for his mom. They’ve finished that now, though, and Eddie’s already got their next destination in mind.

“I’m gonna do it”, Gareth insists as they go, “I’m gonna get a tattoo.”

“Your mom would kill you”, Jeff replies.”remember when she caught you smoking? I thought she wasn’t going to let us see you ever again after that.”

“It’s different now”, Gareth tells him, “I’m 16. I’m gonna be a junior. It’s time I make my own choices, you know?”

“Good luck with that”, Jeff laughs.

“Let’s hit the record store next”, Eddie cuts in, “I want to pick up the new Bob Dylan album for Wayne.”

“More like you wanna see the cute girl working the register”, Jeff teases.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, Eddie retorts, desperately hoping his cheeks aren’t actually turning as red as he thinks they are.

In truth, he does have an ulterior motive for wanting to go to the record store, and it is you. You’ve been going to Hawkins High for the past three years, but admittedly Eddie had never really been more than vaguely aware of your existence until this past semester, when you two had PE together. He had this routine he’d do where he would imitate the gym teacher when the man wasn’t looking, and it never failed to elicit a giggle from you. One day Eddie noticed how cute you looked when you laughed and well, he’s been a little bit stuck on you ever since.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Gareth comments, as if it’s just that easy.

Sweet, naive Gareth. Maybe for guys like Steve Harrington it’s that easy, but Eddie isn’t Steve Harrington. Gareth wasn’t there for Eddie’s early high school days. He wasn’t there during Eddie’s sophomore year when two hot juniors decided to prank him by convincing him their cheerleader friend was “super into him” or his junior year when he invited that girl from drama club to join Hellfire and she laughed out loud at him. Most girls don’t even want to be seen with Eddie “the Freak” Munson, let alone date him.

“Jeff’s talking out of his ass”, Eddie lies, “come on, let’s go.”

You are, of course, there at the counter when they walk in, and oh God, is that an Iron Maiden shirt you’re wearing? Fuck, as if he couldn’t be more into you.

“Um, Eddie, you good dude?” Gareth asks him and he realizes he’s stopped right there in the entrance of the store, just staring at you. He quickly turns away and walks the rest of the way into the store, thankful that you’re currently checking out a customer and probably didn’t notice him ogling you like a total weirdo.

Admittedly, this may not have been a good idea, at least if he wants to convince Jeff and Gareth he’s not into you. He quickly grabs a Bob Dylan tape and starts making for the door, desperate to just get out of there and spare himself anymore humiliation.

“Um, you gonna pay for that?” Jeff asks and fuck. He’s shoplifted before but he’s not interested in getting barred from the record store, so he’s not gonna risk it today.

“Right”, he mutters and then he forces himself to go up to the counter.

He feels like his heart is going to explode in his chest when he walks up and you flash him that brilliant smile of yours.

“Hi, Eddie”, you greet and his eyes grow wide because you know his name. Well, obviously you did, you had a class together, but it just sounds so good coming from your mouth that he momentarily ceases to function.

“Did you need help with something?” you ask after a moment.

“What?” Eddie asks, “oh no. Just um, just this.”

He sets the tape on the counter and you grab it to ring it up.

“Dylan”, you comment as you do, “not your usual fare.”

“It’s for my uncle”, Eddie explains, “he’s a big fan.”

“Cool”, you say, “I like your vest by the way. Dio. Nice.”

Well, that’s it. It’s over. Eddie’s done for.

“That’ll be $6.30”, you say.

“Oh, right money”, Eddie sputters and fishes a ten out of his pocket. He knows Jeff and Gareth are standing nearby, watching this all play out and probably laughing with each other about it. He’s definitely never living this down.

“You want a bag”, you ask as you finish gathering his change.

“Oh, I um, I guess”, he replies, not actually processing the question. You hand him his change, then place the tape in a bag and slide it over to him. He goes to grab it, and because he’s not at all paying attention to anything but you, inadvertently sends the display of Beach Boy tapes sitting on the counter tumbling to the floor.

“Oh shit”, he hisses, “oh fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay”, you reply, coming around the counter, “I keep telling Doug he shouldn’t put that stuff so close to the register.”

You bend down to start picking up the tapes and years worth of Wayne’s lectures on behaving like a gentleman come flooding back to Eddie, so he quickly follows suit.

“Let me help you”, he says.

“Thanks”, you say and you’re smiling again and Eddie kind of wants to die.

With the two of you, it doesn’t take long to get everything cleaned up and back in order.

“I’m really sorry”, Eddie says again as you make your way back behind the counter, and then before he can stop himself, he blurts, “maybe I could make it up to you somehow?”

“What?” you ask, clearly unsure of what he means.

“I mean like, maybe I could buy you a-a coffee or something sometime”, he stammers.

You peer at him for a moment, and he braces for the inevitable rejection he’s about to endure.

“I like ice cream”, you say, “if you meet me here at 3 tomorrow, you can buy me some ice cream and we’ll call it even.”

Maybe Eddie’s already dead and this is heaven. That or he’s being punked somehow. Either way, he stands there like an idiot for a second, trying to process that you just suggested the two of you meet for ice cream.

“Um okay”, he says.

“Cool”, you grin, “see you then.”

“Right”, he says, “see you then.”

And then he’s swiping his bag from the counter and stiffly making his way back to Jeff and Gareth, his body still trapped in a state of shock.

“So”, Jeff prompts, “what was all that?”

“I um, I think I’m meeting her for ice cream tomorrow”, Eddie informs them.

The two younger boys exchange glances, mouths stretching into a matching pair of shit eating grins.

“Talking out of my ass, huh?” Jeff teases.

“Shut up”, Eddie snaps, “I’m just being polite okay? It’s not like a date or anything.”

“Sure it isn’t”, Gareth replies smugly.

“Whatever”, Eddie huffs and the others know not to continue the conversation, even if they spend the rest of the afternoon exchanging amused glances at each other.

Eddie waits until he’s back at the trailer to let everything sink in. When it does, he feels a vague sense of panic washing over him.

Embarrassing as it is, Eddie’s never had a real, serious girlfriend before. Hell, aside from a brief flirtation with Tammy Thompson that ended in a very awkward hand job in the school parking lot, he’s never really had any experience with girls (or boys for that matter) at all. And Tammy was the one that initiated that. He wasn’t even really into her, he was just desperate for some sort of female attention.

You, though, he is into you. Very, very much into you. And he has no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do or say. He finally, finally has a chance to go out with his dream girl, and he’s almost certainly going to say something wrong and scare you off like pretty much everyone he’s ever been into.

He wonders what the weather in Wisconsin is like this time of year, because he’s halfway to hopping in his van and heading there now, never to be seen or heard from in Hawkins, Indiana again.

Then again, maybe he’s over thinking it. It’s not like the word “date” ever came up in your conversation. Maybe this really is just him paying you back for his clumsiness, and afterwards you won’t even spare him a second thought. In the end, he figures that whatever the case, he’s not just going to leave you high and dry, so he has no choice but to go.

Eddie shows up outside the record store at 2:45 the next day. He stands there awkwardly, fiddling with his rings and secretly hoping that you don’t show up and he doesn’t have to deal with all of this.

No such luck though, you appear exactly at 3, looking as cute as ever in your jean skirt.

“Hey”, you greet and Eddie momentarily forgets how to speak.

“Hey”, he repeats, unable to formulate a coherent enough thought to do anything but copy your greeting.

“You ready to go?” you ask and he nods.

The record store is a fair bit away from Scoops Ahoy, and for probably the first time in his life, Eddie finds himself unsure of what exactly to say. Thankfully, you take the lead.

“So, have you heard Megadeth’s album?” you ask, “I got it the first day it came out and I love it.”

“Me too”, Eddie says, and he can feel himself being knocked out of his stupor then, “you know, my friends and I have a metal band.”

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah”, he tells you, “we perform Wednesdays at the Hideout, if you ever want to come see us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind”, you smile and Eddie thinks his heart momentarily stops.

Walking into Scoops Ahoy with you by his side is an almost unreal experience. You and him go up to the counter and Steve Harrington is there in his little sailor suit that Eddie almost feels sorry that he’s forced to wear.

“Hey Steve”, you greet.

“Hey Y/N”, Steve replies, and then he notices that Eddie’s with you and he gets this super confused look on his face.

“So, uh, get whatever you want I guess”, Eddie says.

Once you two have ordered and gotten your ice cream, you eat it while idly wandering around the mall, just chatting about anything and everything. Eddie, as always, is frequently cracking jokes, and God is it mesmerizing to see the way you laugh in response.

It’s quite the disappointment when you’re finishing your ice cream and you’re bidding him farewell.

He knows he has to at least try to see you again so he tests the waters with a quick “that was fun, we should do it again sometime.”

“I’d like that”, you smile.

“Awesome”, he replies.

“Here”, you say, rooting around in your purse, “give me your hand.”

He obliges, and you produce a pen, which you use to scribble something onto his outstretched hand.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“My number”, you reply, “call me tonight or tomorrow?”

“Sure”, he tells you.

“Great”, you say, “I’ll see you, Eddie.”

“See you”, he says, hoping he doesn’t sound as absolutely lovesick to you as he does to himself.

You flash him one final smile before departing, and he just stands there awkwardly for a second, watching as you go. Once you’ve disappeared from sight and he’s snapped out of his trance, he peers down at the numbers you’d scrawled onto his hand. He has to remind himself that it’d be weird to get them tattooed onto himself permanently. He can’t believe that it worked. You went on a date with him, in public, and didn’t care if you were seen together. You laughed at his jokes. You gave him his number and asked to see him again. You liked him.

The trailer is as unbearably hot as ever when he returns, but for once, he doesn’t care. He’s too excited to call you later and hopefully set up another date.

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random-fandom-chaos · 3 months ago

Note

hey! I have an Alexander request my friend! Maybe Reader is a fiction author and asks Alex for help on something and he just is astounded by all their works? And then gets really nerdy about their writing and wants to show them some stuff he did?

make sure you rest, get some food and water, and tell someone you at least tolerate them today!

Alright, on it! And of course I actually just ate and drank water, and I will try even though idk how to do it I’ll try tho! You too friend!

Pairings: Alexander Hamilton X Reader (Gender-Neutral)

(I will try not to use Y/N)

Time started: 5:40p.m.

Also, Reader is known for their works but Alex gets a secret little preview to one of their new works

———————————————————————————

You were a well know Fiction author, You picked up the hobby of writing a few years ago and have made a few novels, Adult fiction, or Children’s fiction, you did both and were admired by all ages

Especially since your Partner was the Secretary of State, a workaholic man that loved writing loving you? A person that loved writing novels, yeah. It was like a match made in heaven with you both loving writing

Right now, you were sitting at your desk, writing in a journal you kept with the ideas and drafts for your novels, you were writing with a pen in the journal with a dark navy blue cover, you took up a few pages because you couldn’t seem to find ideas with the novel, Your Partner walked in behind you, unbeknownst by you until his hand rested on your shoulder

“Ooooh can I see?”

Alexander’s voice spoke behind you, you nodded, you sighed

“Hey, Writer to Writer…Can you help? I don’t really have an idea for this chapter.”

Your soft voice asks, He nods sitting beside you, looking over your works

“Can I look through the journal first though, please?”

You nodded, he reached over and skimmed through your writings, his eyes showed astonishment

“Whoa…you’re so good at this!”

He said, you smiled softly, And then he starts just rambling about writing, about how he started writing and observed tips from other writers and that’s how he got interested into writing books and other things, it was a good 25 minutes before he asked

“Hey, can I show you some of my works? Please! please! please! Pleas-“

you laugh softly, and nod

“yeah, of course.”

He took out his journal and you started skimming through

“hah, you say I’m good, Look at your works! They’re awesome!”

You smile, He had this huge and adorable grin as you complimented his works, after a while of both of you geeking out

Though he did help you eventually, giving you a few suggestions to pick…

And a month later the book was publishes, of course at the end for acknowledgments you mentioned him. How much you loved him.

———————————————————————————

End time: 6:18p.m

No proofread

yes this is short I didn’t have much motivation lol, but I hope you liked it! thank you for requesting!! take care!

#hi :) pls notice me :)#Chaos writes #Alexander Hamilton X reader #even though I don’t have much motivation this was fun to write!

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piillow · 4 months ago

Note

can you write a skz comfort fic where the reader struggles with their university work pls and they comfort her?? xoxo

OMGGG yes comfort fics i love these also first request!!!!!! everybody cheer (queue awkward silence)

( •̀ ω •́ )✧

bsf!skz x gn!reader | cws : lots of implied sadness/stress/overworking, starving mentioned | wc : 2.5k | a/n : sorry some are shorter than others :(

chan -

- you'd been spending less time with him ever since it was midterms season. he understood you needed to study, but you seemed to be cooped up in your textbooks all too much.

- "y/n? don't you think it's time for a break?" he asked you. you just shrugged it off and replied with a quick "no."

- he sighed and let you do your own thing. he had plans to go to the library with some friends for an hour or two to study, so he hoped that you'd be done by the time he got back.

- but, lo and behold, you were still studying when he got back.

- "y/n! please... go to bed? i know we have midterms this week, but... sleep is still important, you know."

- "i know, chan. but i want to get as much done as i can, i've still got homework to finish."

- "here, we'll make a deal, yeah? you can study until midnight, but you'll only study until eight tomorrow night. your classes end at three, so five hours of studying."

- "what?! but.. chan! that's not enough!" you replied, slightly disappointed.

- "so, will you take the deal?"

- "fine..." you said while sighing.

- as the rest of the week went on, chan decided to invite you to his short library sessions with his friends, and even let you invite your friends along too.

- once midterms finally rolled around, he was always there for you.if it was comforting you with your late night study sessions, or even sending you a simple motivational text while you were taking your actual test.

- it was the little things he did that made it better. so, maybe the deal wasn’t that bad after all.

minho -

- minho had been studying with you since lunchtime, and it was almost dinner time.

- "y/n-ah, time for a break. it's almost time for dinner, what do you want?"

- "i'm fine, min. i'll just make some instant ramen, don't worry about me."

- the surprised face he had made was.. interesting, to say the least. "y/n, eating is just as important as studying. it's on me, i promise. what do you want to eat?" he said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

- "are you sure? if you say so... i'll just eat what you're making, chef's choice." you said, giving him a smile.

- "ooh, okay! i promise you'll love it~"

- "wait.. not spicy food though!"

- "aww, fine..." he replied, pouting at you. “but still, why don’t you take a break? it’s been five hours, i’m sure your brain has gotten enough work done.” he says, standing up.

- “you’ll have to help me make dinner, it’s hard to make food with two hands, y’know?” he teased, but with full intent to get you to help him in the kitchen.

- “you- ugh, fine… i suppose i’ll help you.” you replied in your fake annoyance tone, to which minho had happily smiled at.

- as you walked into the kitchen to see many ingredients sprawled across the table, you were met with a very happy minho.

- which meant that you were in for a long cooking session. and possibly baking too..?

changbin -

- you’re both at the gym, sitting on a random bench while doing some sets of curls.

- then, from out of nowhere, you remember about a research paper that was due tomorrow. while you really wanted to tell changbin that you had to go and finish it, you didn’t want to finish your workout short today.

- so, you didn’t. - it was currently 6:30am, and you had a bit over 30 hours to get it done. - but, it was a tuesday. you had classes, which meant more work, which meant you were definitely staying up tonight.

- just as you two were leaving the gym, you turned to him and asked “hey, you remembered the research paper for comp sci, right?” - “oh yeah, i finished it like, two days ago. it’s due tomorrow.” … right. of course he knew. he’s always on top of everything. - “yeah, i know that, just gotta make sure y’know? i mean, i cou-” - “could just check the syllabus.” he interrupted. “y/n, you didn’t even start it, did you?” he said in a flat tone. it’s almost like he could read through you. “y/n, c’mon. you really gotta start getting on top of your work…” - “i know bin, but.. i’m just so tired from everything. all these professors i have to email, all these papers i need to write, all the equations i have to solve. it’s getting overwhelming and i don’t know what to do. i know i have to work, but i just get stressed at the thought of it.” you admitted. it was getting too hard, too quick. but you couldn’t make it stop.

- as you two got into the car, he turned his keys and started pulling out of the parking lot. but, he wasn’t going to the dorms. he turned in a different direction.

- “bin, where are you going? this isn’t the way to the dorms, let alone campus in general.”

- “let me do my thing, y/n. you just have to sit here and relax, don’t worry about a thing. i promise.” he said.

- while you decide to get some shut eye while he drives, you suddenly wake up in the parking lot of your favorite cafe outside of campus. you always complained about how the ones on campus were always so crowded, and of course changbin took note of it.

- as he woke you up to your surprised face, he said “we’ll be staying here today. you have your laptop, don’t you?”

hyunjin -

- as you two sat in your non air-conditioned and sweaty dorm room, hyunjin was starting to get bored of trying to take a nap. so, he decided to take out his sketchbook, and draw you at your desk.

- he’d been listening to you type away at your laptop for what seemed like three hours, possibly more. you were in the same position when he went to bed, and still being in that position started to worry him. - “hey, y/n? you good over there? you’ve been working for like, 10 hours straight.” he said, walking over to where you were.

- “just working. i have to get this paper done for tonight, i have no time to waste.” you reply, not bothering to look at him while you shuffle through your tabs of resources and documents.

- “and… how much else do you have to finish?” he asks while adding some more hatching to his current sketch.

- “... three lectures i have to take notes on for quizzes next week.” you blurt out.

- “that’s next week. it’s only sunday, this week just started. why don’t you take a break after you finish? that’s your conclusion paragraph, no?” he asks again, leaning a bit closer to you so he can see your screen.

- “yeah, this is my conclusion. but i’d rather get it done earlier than i need to.” you reply while you proofread your paper once again.

- once you let out a groan while you fix one of your mistakes, hyunjin pipes up. “here, give me your laptop, i’ll proofread it for you. it’ll be easier, since i haven’t read it before.”

- as you hand him your laptop, you take a peek at his sketchbook and the sketch of you. as he glances over the top of the laptop, he slides it a bit closer to you so you can see it better.

- while you admired the sketch of you, and while he proofread your paper, the silence in the room was nice. it wasn’t too awkward, not too tense, just… right.

- “it’s really good. i fixed what i had to, by the way.” he said, placing your laptop back on your desk.

- “you didn’t fix anything, though.” you say, confused.

- “yeah, because there was nothing to fix.” he replies.

- “oh- OHHH.” you say, facepalming yourself while hyunjin just laughs. “hey! don’t laugh at me like that. not my fault i’m a bit slow…” you say, crossing your arms.

- seeing your slight disappointment, his laughs come to a stop. “okay, okay, fine. but still, seriously, it was fine. and here, your gift.” he says while ripping out the page and handing it to you.

- “thanks. i guess i owe you, don’t i?” you ask as you took the paper.

- “cafe day?”

- “cafe day.”

jisung -

- you and jisung had clicked ever since you two became roommates at the start of the semester. just two new freshmen who were just trying to survive their first semester at college.

- so, while he was out at his night classes, you were working at the dorm. and almost every time he got back, he’d see you fast asleep in your bed.

- since you two couldn’t really talk to each other much, you decided to start writing sticky notes for him to read in the morning. they were always short messages, mostly consisting of anything similar to “i hope you’re doing well in your classes :)” or “hope you slept well.”

- so, when he entered your dorm room at 1am, he definitely wasn’t expecting you to be awake.

- “y/n? well, i wasn’t expecting to come back to this. what’s up? how are you doing?” he asks, not hiding his surprise.

- “oh, hi. i’m working. you?” you rushed out of your mouth. you felt like you were running on 100k/mph, and nothing could slow you down. there was no time for distractions, you just had to finish this assignment.

- han, sensing something is up, says “quickly cramming something? i can help you if you want. or, well, try my best, at least.”

- after hearing the word “help,” you jolt you head to the side to look at him. “really? you’ll help me? Seriously? oh my goodness, you’re a lifesaver! i can’t proofread for the life of me!”

- as he sees relief wash over your face, he can’t help but smile. “yeah, i could! after this, you just have to turn it in, yeah?” he asks as you hand your mac over to him and nod.

- while he proofreads your work, you end up rambling to him about how you just hope that your professor doesn’t fail you. even though he wasn’t fully focused on you, he was just happy he could help you in any way.

- as he watched you turn in your assignment, he gave you a high five. “nice! now you can finally sleep, so i guess it’s my turn to start working now. good night y/n, sleep well.”

felix -

- whenever felix had arrived from his culinary classes, he almost always had some food with him, and he was always willing to share with you.

- today, he brought back an assortment of fried goods, which you could smell the second he opened the door.

- “ah, hi y/n. sorry about the smell..” he says as he takes his shoes off.

- you turned your chair to him, hoping that you’d be able to see what was in his bag. “it’s fine, at least it’s good food and not b/o.” you joked, which made both of you laugh.

- “still,” you continued, “what’d you bring? Chicken?”

- “spot on. and they let us experiment with random foods, so i tried frying some tteokbokki.” he said, looking at you with wide eyes. “definitely don’t recommend. i almost burnt myself from the oil like, twenty times.” he continued, sighing.

- “sounds pretty stressful, but i assume that that’s an understatement?” you ask, to which he nods almost right away. “i see.. well, if it makes you feel better, i’ve been working on these stupid geometry problems for like, two hours straight. i really need a break.” you admit, rubbing your temples.

- “well, why don’t we dig in? it’s still warm, and you can rant to me about whatever you want. sounds like a pretty even trade deal, hm?”

- and that ended up leading to a long dinner, with you two eating almost everything he had brought back. but, he would gladly do it again if it meant you’d be able to let go of some stress just for a little while.

seungmin -

- you two decided that today would be a good day to sit outside and get some work done, until it started to rain, and your laptop started to get water in it.

- once you got inside, you two checked the condition of your laptop, and after realizing it wasn’t turning on, this made you two bummed out.

- but you weren’t just bummed out. you had been working on a lab assignment due at 11:59 tonight, and it was 5pm.

- after smashing the power button a few more times, you groaned. “great. i guess i’m going to fail this assignment that’s worth the same as a quiz. how beautiful.” you said sarcastically, shutting your laptop shut.

- “you wanna use mine? it’s back at the room, and besides, we got enough time outside today. i guess the rain was just a sign to tell us to come in.” he replied, hoping to lighten the mood.

- you raised a surprised eyebrow at him, “really?” you asked. “really.” he replied. “well, i will gladly take your offer. i’ll take anything i can to get this done. thank you so much.”

- as you worked, he happily accompanied you, even singing you a few songs, and being happily surprised when he heard you singing or humming along.

jeongin -

- you both sat at a table at the library, just studying in between your classes until your friend called you.

- “y/n! there’s gonna be a party at f/n’s house, you wanna go?” they ask.

- “oh, i would love to, but i’m too busy.. i’m sorry. tell me how it goes though! i hope you have fun.” you say, before hanging up the phone and sighing.

- jeongin looks over at you as you sigh, looking slightly concerned. “you okay? i know what it’s like to miss out on parties too. i’ve had to miss a lot, but i get over the fomo pretty quickly. i can stay with you tonight, if you’d like.” he offers.

- you glance over at him, confusion written all over your face. “how’d you know- never mind. you’d stay with me? really? but i don’t want to be the reason you don’t go, then i’ll feel guilty too.” you say. - “no, really, it’s fine, y/n. if i’m being honest, i have lots of work to get done too, so it’s okay.” he reassures you as he pulls out his phone. “oh, it’s almost time for my class. i’ll see you later though. bye for now, y/n!”

- while he waved to you as he walked out of the library, you couldn’t help but think about his nice gesture to stay with you later. sure, there was a possibility he could be lying, but it was nice of him to do what he did.

#stray kids #skz fluff #skz comfort #skz x reader #reqs open #anon request #piillow #FIRST REQUEST!!!!! EVERYBODY CHEER pls

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dialovers-translations · 1 year ago

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS ZERO Animate Tokuten Drama CD “A Vampire’s Late Night Snack Terror” [Kou ver.]

Original title: 夜更かしヴァンパイアの食テロ飯 [コウ編]

Source: Diabolik Lovers ZERO Vol. 2 Animate Tokuten CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Kimura Ryouhei

Translator’s note: Take notes everyone, do not EVER let Kou into your kitchen because he will destroy the place. That being said, it was really cute to see him be such a disaster in the kitchen. Especially all of the shrieking and cries of panic had me giggle more than once. (Sorry Kou) You know it’s bad when the MC had to resort to eventually having him pour hot water over a pre-made onigiri and call it a dish. :p

*Rustle rustle*

You approach Kou in the kitchen.

“...Oh? You’re awake too? Are you thirsty, maybe? ...Personally I’m here because I got hungry so I’m looking to see if there’s still any food around.

I know I already had seconds, but just dinner isn’t enough to tie me over. I’m still a growing boy, you see? So I end up needing a small snack before bed every now and then.

Seems like everyone ate a lot today though so there aren’t any leftovers...So, perhaps I should indulge in your blood instead~? That doesn’t sound bad either.”

You shake your head.

“Hahaha! I’m joking! Even though your blood is delicious, there’s a difference between being hungry for blood or actual food. I’ll have your blood some other time, okay~? ...Anyway, guess I have no other choice but to have a slice of white bread and go to bed. It’s at times like this where I wish I could whip up something real quick. I shouldh ave learnt how to cook at some point in my life.”

You offer to teach him some easy recipes.

“Eh? Really!? You’ll teach me!”

You seem somewhat surprised that he’s willing to cook.

“Of course! I’ll gladly make something if you’re the one giving me instructions! Well then, today you’re the instructor and I’m your student! ...Sensei, I’m starving!”

You ask Kou what he wants to eat.

“Hm...What I want to eat? I’m not sure...I’d say pasta but we’re all out after tonight’s dinner...”

*Rustle*

“Ah! In that case, doria! (1) A piping hot plate, loaded with extras and topped with a generous amount of cheese!”

You nod.

“Hooray! Let’s get started then!”

*TIMESKIP*

*Rustle*

“All set! What should we do first?”

You explain.

“Hm...The bechamel sauce, huh? Let me handle that!”

You give him instructions.

“Uhm...I should melt some butter? I’ll a pot...”

*Cling*

Kou turns on the stove.

“The flour goes in next, right? Let me just open the bag...”

*Rustle rustle*

“Huh...? The bag won’t...Huh!? ...How does it work!? It won’t open!”

*RIIIIIP*

“Aaah!”

*Thud*

“Coff, coff...Gosh, I didn’t think I’d end up dropping the whole bag. You’re completely white right now, M-neko-chan...Eh? So am I? Ah-ahー The pot’s a mess as well. ...Aah, no biggie! One more time! I’m starting over from scratch!”

*Rustle rustle*

*Pshhhh*

“Eeh!? The butter turned black! ...Uwah! There’s smoke! Look!”

*Pshhh*

“One second, the pot got knocked over...Uwaaah!!”

*WOOSH*

“Flames!! It’s on fire!! M-neko-chan, water! Quick!!”

*SHATTER SHATTER*

*Shatter*

*TIMESKIP*

“...Uu...The kitchen’s a hot mess...How come I just can’t seem to get it right? Am I just too clumsy...!? Whatever, I’m never cooking again in my whole life...”

You try to motivate him to keep going.

“It’ll turn out a disaster no matter how many times I try! I’m just not cut out for it! Besides, we’ve blasted through most of our ingredients as well...Even if we were to try to buy new ones, almost all stores are closed at this hour.”

You grab hold of his hand and start dragging him out of the kitchen.

*Rustle rustle*

“Eh!? ‘Let’s go’? But where!? ...Hey! M-neko-chan, listen to me!”

*Thud*

*TIMESKIP*

*Rustle rustle*

“We’re back...”

*Rustle*

“I was wondering where you’d take me, but I didn’t expect the convenience store...And on top of that you bought onigiri. If you’re no longer in the mood to cook, you could have at least gotten me a proper bento.”

You tell him that you’re going to cook with the onigiri.

“Eh? You actually haven’t given up yet? Then why did you buy these things?”

You ask him to have faith in you.

“Well, if you say so...Fine, this is the final try! I promise that I’ll make a delicious late-night snack this time!”

You nod.

“Mmh! Well then, Sensei! Please give me instructions! Okay, I’ll get a bowl first...”

*Thud*

“Then put the onigiri we bought in the...”

*Rustle*

“...Eh? We’re going to use the onigiri!?”

You ask him to have faith in you.

“Okay. I’ll put it in then! I chose one with grilled fish roe and seaweed inside!”

You continue to give him instructions.

“Then with that...Eh? We’re putting this in as well? Uhm...”

*Rustle*

“In goes one packet of dried bonite flakes from the convenience store!”

*Rustle rustle*

“And then a splash of soy sauce...”

*Pshhh*

“Hm...That should do, I guess? Last but not least we pour in some hot water...”

*Pshhh*

“Mix everything up and it’s done!”

*Dun dun*

“Easy-made dashi-chazuke (2) from the convenience store!”

“Eh!? Are you sure we’re done!? All I did was pour hot water in!”

You prompt him to try it.

“I mean, I’ll try it now that I’ve made it...”

*Thud*

“Thanks for the meal...”

*Cling*

“Phew...Phew...Hahn...Mmh...Mm! It’s delicious! The dried bonito flakes really helped to give the broth that extra punch of flavor! Hahn...!”

*Nom*

“The rice is nice and hot as well, warming me up from inside.”

*Sluuuurp*

“I made the right choice with my onigiri fillings! I love how fluffy the rice is in comparison to the fried fish roe which pops in your mouth! The saltiness makes it so that I could eat several bowls of this! The dried seaweed gives off flavor as well, so it’s very hearty and savory! ...Here, you should give it a try as well! Phew...Phew...Say ‘aahn’.”

Kou feeds you.

*Rustle rustle*

You tell him it’s good.

“Right!? I honestly could grow addicted to this! ...Here, you can have one more bite!”

You shake your head.

“Nu-uh! This is your reward! I have to show my thanks to you for teaching me so well! Come on, open your mouth~ ‘Aaahn’“

*Chomp*

“Good girl ...You’re really enjoying it, huh? Seems like you haven’t even realized that eating from the same chopsticks counts as an indirect kiss~”

You suddenly become flustered.

“Oh geez, you’re panicking now? Too late~ Besides, we’ve kissed plenty of times before, no?”

*Nom nom*

*Sluuuurp*

“Mm...Mmh!”

*Thud*

“Thanks for the meal! Haah~ I’m stuffed! I ended up scarfing it down! I didn’t think such an easy recipe could count as cooking as well.”

You remind him that he just cooked a dish by himself.

“Huh? ...Right! I managed to make something by myself! ...Thanks for keeping up with me till the end. ...My fine motor skills aren’t always the best, so I always thought that cooking just wasn’t for me. Ruki’s been cooking for me for as long as I can remember. But ever since you started making food instead, I’ve been getting the urge to help out where I can, so I’m glad I challenged myself today!”

You ask him if that was his real objective for wanting to cook something tonight.

“Fufu~ I spilled the beans. Still, it’s not like I wanted to hide it or anything. I know I messed up a lot, but I’ll improve step by step starting with the little things I can manage.”

You agree and cheer him on.

“Mmh! Thanks! I’d love to thank you with a kiss but...I’m pretty sure I’ve got fishy breath from the ochazuke so let’s leave that for another time.”

You blush.

“Oh come on, look at you acting all flustered again~ We both know that you’re happy deep down.”

You puff out your cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry! Well then...Guess I’ll go brush my teeth and then hit the hay.”

*Rustle*

“Ah...The kitchen...What do we do about it?”

*Cling cling*

“If Ruki-kun sees this, he’ll explode... (3)”

You tell him that you should clean up.

“R-Right! Let’s clean everything up while we can! Ruki-kun might be an early bird, but there’s no way he’d be awake at this hour!”

They hear Ruki approach the kitchen.

“Ah...These footsteps...Uh-oh. ...Let’s quickly make a run for it, M-neko-chan!”

The two of you run away.

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) The best way to describe ‘doria’ would be an Asian lasagna. It’s a very popular Italian-inspired Japanese dish consisting of rice in a bechamel sauce (I believe sometimes it can be a mixture of red and white sauce too) with vegetables or meats of your choice, topped with a layer of grated cheese and then baked in the oven so it gets that crispy crust just like a lasagna has.

(2) Ochazuke is a very simple Japanese dish consisting of boiled rice in a broth, in this case a traditional dashi-broth.

(3) Literally Kou says that a bolt of lightning will come striking down.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #kou mukami #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd #diabolik lovers zero

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livythewriter · 5 months ago

Text

Meeting Elsbeth (Elsbeth Tascioni x Reader)

Word count: 1479

Warnings: A bit of fluff, talks of murder and death but not too graphic, writer doesn't know shit about detective or police work, poorly written antagonist, probably a few plot holes, plot holes what plot holes? they're pockets to put cool rocks in!

Today was my first day as a detective, after working as a cop for five years. Apparently the case I was assigned to was a murder case as well. When getting ready for the investigation, I made sure to be dressed as presentably as possible.

Going down to the crime scene, I recognized it by the crime scene tape surrounding it as well as the multiple detectives and cops. One person in particular stuck out, however.

A woman with unusually bright and colorful clothing, short reddish hair, appearing to be average height. I didn’t pay much mind to her, though.

Until she walked up to me.

“Hey there, I assume you’re a detective working the case? I’m Elsbeth. Elsbeth Tascioni.” The woman introduced herself, “What’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m ___. It’s nice to meet you, Elsbeth.” I said, holding my hand out to shake. She took it and shook it quite eagerly.

“We were just about to speak to people who knew the victim.” Elsbeth then lowered her voice a bit, “You showed up a bit late. Is it your first day as a detective?”

“Yeah actually, it is.” I said, a little embarrassed about being late.

“That’s alright. I’m not actually a detective, really, but I help out with cases. Let’s go talk to that woman over there.” She pointed at a taller woman in a red dress who appeared to be crying.

“Alright.” We approached the woman.

“Oh dear, I just gotta say I’m sorry your uhh…” Elsbeth began.

“Sister.” The woman simply said.

“I’m sorry your sister had to go like this. Do you know anyone who would want her gone?” She asked.

“No, I don’t. Eleanor was simply likable. I don’t understand this, why would anyone want her dead? Why would someone murder her like this?” The woman broke down sobbing.

Elsbeth gave me a suspicious look, but I didn’t know why. “Oh, alright. I gotta say, your dress is so lovely, where did you get it from?”

“Oh, Shein. It’s the only place I can afford at the moment.” The woman started to calm down.

“May I ask your name?” I spoke up.

“Elizabeth.”

I noticed their names were very similar, but didn’t know if I should bring that up.

“Your name’s a lot like mine! I’m Elsbeth.” Elsbeth said.

“Oh, okay. I don’t really see why I should care.” Elizabeth said in a slightly snarky voice.

“Oh sorry, I just found the fact interesting.” Elsbeth explained.

“Right then. I don’t really see why you’re talking to me when you could be trying to find the murderer. I need to go to work now, I already missed yesterday because my sister needed help with something.” Elizabeth walked away.

Elsbeth turned to me, her face contorted as if she was in thought. “Did you notice that?”

“Notice what?”

“How did she know Eleanor was murdered?”

“Well, you did kind of lead the conversation like someone did murder her.” I said, shrugging.

“I left it vague to make it seem like I suspected it could be a murder, but she jumped in like she already knew it was.” Elsbeth had this passion in her eyes, like she was really into the case.

“Well, we can keep an eye on your name twin. She did seem a bit snarky if I’m gonna be honest. But it could be the grief talking, I don’t know.”

“That is true… Well, I’ll definitely keep my eye on her. Just make sure it wasn’t her. Which I’m kind of sure it was.”

“Well, we’ll see. But we can’t jump to conclusions just yet, we gotta talk to other people, see if they might know anything.”

“I wonder… she said she got her dress off of Shein. That’s a cheaper shopping option, right? Well, Eleanor was very well off. I wonder if maybe she was jealous of her sister’s money, and wanted some inheritance or something.”

“Well, now we have a potential motive, but that’s still not a lot to work with.” I explained, “I’ll tell you what, you watch her for a bit, and I’ll go interview some other people.”

“That is such a good idea! Wow, you’re already doing a great job as a detective.” Elsbeth patted me on the shoulder.

I flushed slightly red, “Oh, thank you. You seem great at… whatever it is you do, as well.”

I interviewed more people who knew Eleanor, and they all had an alibi on the night of the murder.

I regrouped with Elsbeth the next day, and asked her how things were going with the suspect.

“Well, do you have any suspects?” She asked first.

“Oh no, they all had an alibi.” I said.

“Alright great, because I uncovered more info about Elizabeth! Apparently, according to someone else she and Eleanor knew, she was jealous of her sister’s financial situation, and had been making some jokes about wishing she could get her inheritance.”

“Wow, that does sound pretty suspicious. You know, we found a tag at the scene that said ‘Shein’ on it, it wasn’t uncovered until today. I think if it was Elizabeth, she must have tried to bury it underground, because there it was, about an inch under soil. It was only uncovered after a long rain last night.”

“Well why didn’t you lead with that?” Elsbeth said.

“I wanted to hear your news first, to be honest, before I could confirm anything. Anyways, do you think we should make an arrest?” I inquired.

“Hmm, I’ll ask the other detectives to see if it’ll be worth it.” She thought for a moment, and then beckoned for me to follow her.

We talked to my fellow detectives, one of them seeming to be a friend of Elsbeth’s named Kaya, and decided we would arrest Elizabeth later today.

Later that day, Elsbeth and I ran into Elizabeth. Well, ‘ran into’, because it was more of a planned thing.

“Are you those detectives from yesterday?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes, but I’m technically not a detective. I’m here to assist the NYPD.” Elsbeth said.

“Look, I don’t really care, I’m a bit busy.”

“Well, do you mind if we follow you along and ask you some questions?” Elsbeth asked.

“Fine, whatever. I don’t see why you’re talking to me, you should be trying to catch Eleanor’s murderer.” Elizabeth began walking, and we followed her.

“Well you see, I never said Eleanor was murdered.” Elsbeth said, “I asked if there was anyone who might want to hurt her, but never confirmed that she was murdered.”

“Alright I must have misunderstood, what does it matter?”

“Well, we recently found a tag at the scene of the crime. The tag said ‘Shein’ on it, and you said your dress was from there.” Elsbeth explained as if giving a piece of terrible news.

“So what? Everyone shops at Shein, doesn’t mean I did it. I can’t believe you’re actually trying to pin this on me, you’re not even a detective!”

“Well I am.” I said, “And the evidence seems pretty conclusive. Elsbeth also spoke to a mutual friend of yours and Eleanor’s, and he said that you made jokes about wanting her inheritance all the time, and were also jealous.”

“Well anyone would be jealous! Look, my sister had the money to help me out, to at least help me buy groceries when I was struggling, but she never did. She always said I needed to pull myself up by my bootstraps, as if she didn’t get that money from marrying someone who was well off. Of course I was jealous, she didn’t earn that money but acted like she was so much more hard working than me even though she’s never worked a day in her life!” Elizabeth panted from all that ranting.

“Well, now that we’ve gotten a little more confirmation from you, it’s going to make this arrest a little easier to make.” A couple of cops came up behind us, and approached Elizabeth, putting her in cuffs.

“You know what, if I was really capable of murdering my sister, I would have been perfectly capable of murdering you, too! You don’t look like you’ve fought a day in your life, Elsbeth! I could have easily hid your remains and no one would find you!” Elizabeth yelled as she was taken away by the cops.

Elsbeth cringed, “Oh jeez, I hope she does go to jail, so I won’t have to worry about that. She seems quite lovely.” She said with a slightly sarcastic tone.

“Eh, I wouldn’t let her hurt you.” I assured Elsbeth.

“Oh dear, thank you. I’ve enjoyed working with you a lot, I hope I get to work with you on another case.” Elsbeth smiled at me.

“Me too, you’re friendly and smart.” I returned her smile.

After the case, I went back home, very satisfied about how everything turned out.

#elsbeth x reader #elsbeth tascioni x reader #x reader #elsbeth #elsbeth cbs #elsbeth tascioni

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falseroar · 8 months ago

Text

Murder on the Warfstache Express

Part 9: Misplaced Motives

((Abe ponders the lack of an obvious motive, at least one for the murder that actually happened, and hopes that questioning the remaining suspects might help shed some light on the situation.

Also just a head's up, this one is definitely on the long side.

Link to Part 8 here in case you missed it! Plus one for the whole series.))

The sleeping car was as silent as when they left it, so much so that Abe could hear the floorboards creak beneath his and Wilford’s steps, or how the wind howled and flailed against the train car as though wanting nothing more than to bury it further in the snow all around.

No one else around except the two of them and the dead body.

“Yep, still there,” Wilford said when Abe stopped and pulled open the door to Happy’s room.

“Doesn’t hurt to double check,” Abe muttered and Wilford nodded along. Both of them had a little too much experience with dead bodies getting back up again when they shouldn’t, after all.

Looking down at the body still sprawled out on the floor, Abe felt the same question that had been nagging at him since he first spotted the blood on the door, the one thing about all of this that he still hadn’t been able to make sense of.

“Why Happy?”

Wilford shrugged. “I don’t know, why not be happy? Maybe you should give it a try, because being a grumpy sourpuss all the time doesn’t seem to be doing you any good.”

Abe glared at the other man, but Wilford was as unbothered as ever.

“Oh, really? Does it ever occur to you there might be a reason I’m always a ‘grumpy sourpuss’ when you’re around in particular?”

“Really? So this trip was going so well before we ran into each other?” Wilford asked, and not for the first time Abe recognized that knowing glint in the other man’s eye, that occasional bit of lucidity that would make him question just how much of Wilford’s insanity was just an act.

And then he’d go and do something like poke a dead man with the toe of his shoe and ask, “What do you think, buddy?”

“Don’t do that,” Abe said, pushing Wilford away before he could commit any more desecrating of the dead, although he did have to admit, “If only he could tell us what happened here, or why someone on this train had it out for him. Before all this went down, the engineer claimed to have just met the guy earlier today, and both the professor and Illinois say they didn’t know him. Of course, any of them could be lying, and someone on this train has to have had a reason for killing Happy.”

“Do they?” Wilford asked.

“Okay, most people need a reason to go around killing people,” Abe corrected himself, realizing who he was talking to here. “Motive and means, that’s what every good investigation boils down to in the end—figuring out who had the opportunity and the reason to kill your guy on the ground.”

“And where,” Wilford added.

“…What?”

“You know the game, you’ve got to say who did it and where and with what weapon,” Wilford continued. “What was that game called…? Celine was always a crack at it, you know. Could never pull the wool over her eyes, even if I wanted to.”

At this point, Abe decided to go back to ignoring Wilford and gave one last look at the body on the ground. If only he could just ask the dead man…

Instead, he would have to make do with the living, which is why he left the compartment and continued on toward the lounge car. The treacherous cold outside was working its way into the small separation between the train cars, forcing Abe to move on into the lounge with no time for hesitation.

As he pulled open the door, the gathered passengers all turned to stare at him, the light of the lanterns around the car throwing strange shadows upon all their faces so that it was like being greeted by a crowd of silent masks.

“Among Us, that’s it!” Wilford declared at the sight somewhere behind him.

“Detective!” called Richard Moneybags, the only voice irritating enough to distract Abe from whatever the hell Wilford was on about this time. The rich man practically lunged forward from his plush seat in the corner of the car to latch onto Abe’s arm, his drawling voice lowering to a murmur as he said, “Please tell me you’ve got this little mess sorted out so we can get moving again?”

“’Little mess’? A man is dead!”

“And he’s not the one who received the death threat!” Richard hissed, and in the half-light of the lantern his eyes were wild and bright as they darted toward the rest of the passengers in the car. “You can’t leave me alone with these people, detective!”

Abe shook his arm free and said, “I’m doing everything I can to find Happy’s killer, I don’t have time to play babysitter. No one’s going to try anything in front of everyone else, so calm down already.”

“You say that now, but we can’t just sit around here,” Richard protested, raising his voice now in anger. “We can’t just stay here in this blizzard all night! Some of us have places to be!”

“And some of us know there’s little we can do about the weather,” Dorene shot back from her seat across the room. In fact, aside from Mack everyone was seated farther back in the car, closer to the bar and as far from the rich man as they could get. “But I will admit, I am worried about the heating issue if we are truly stuck here. We have plenty of food and water, but the cold can be quite dangerous even if we’re not out in this terrible snowstorm.”

“The professor and Illinois are up front with the engineer, doing what they can to get the train moving again,” Abe explained, loud enough for all to hear. “The prof thinks she might know what caused the blackout and can get the power back on.”

Visible relief went around the room, not that there were many faces to share it. With the other three up front, the only ones left back here were Richard, Mack, and Dorene, with Benjamin and the chef skulking in the back near the bar, their heads bent close together over the drinks between them.

No doubt reminiscing over the last time they were the subjects of a murder investigation, Abe thought to himself. Really, the similarities between now and then were…disturbing, even if he tried not to dwell on it too much.

Mostly because he still had a job to do, starting with informing the group, “Doesn’t matter when we get this train moving again if we don’t get to the bottom of this murder. To do that, I’m going to have a little chat with each and every one of you, one person at a time. Benjamin, can you unlock the dining car?”

“It’s not locked,” Benjamin admitted as the detective crossed the lounge to the doors separating this car from the next. “The only car completely locked off is the mail car in the back.”

“Meaning anyone could go anywhere from the engine car to the kitchen?” Abe asked, tucking that bit of useful information away for later. “Not exactly secure, is it?”

“Ain’t no one who wants to keep their fingers setting foot in my kitchen,” Chef growled, his fingers twitching on the stem of his glass as though wishing it were the handle of a knife.

Abe thought about pointing out there was little he could do to stop anyone while he was asleep, but Benjamin added, “Considering how few passengers there are on this trip compared to the number of employees, and the short length of the trip, we thought it would be simple enough to deter anyone from going where they were not allowed without the need to physically bar entry.”

“…Hm.” Abe’s mouth twitched but he kept his thoughts about that to himself for now. Instead, he made a show of looking around before pointing at Mack. “You, with me.”

“Me?” Mack pressed a hand to his chest, as though shocked. “You’re interrogating me?”

“That’s the plan, yeah. Now get in here, already,” Abe said, yanking open the sliding door and receiving noises of protest from everyone nearby at the sudden chill infiltrating the car. “Not you, Moneybags. You’ll get your turn, same as everyone else.”

“But—” Richard protested.

“Hurry up and go already!” Chef barked, the shout sending Mack scurrying toward the door with his head down. “And shut that door, will you? It’s freezing out there, or did you forget?!”

Abe hid a smirk as he slammed the door shut behind Mack and opened the door to the dining car, ushering the other man in first before he slid the door closed behind him.

Between the wide windows and his lantern, it wasn’t as dark as it could have been in here, but any light that might have otherwise reflected off of the snowscape outside was blocked by the whiteout caused by the relentless wind.

“There’s fine,” Abe said, gesturing with his lantern to the same table he had sat at with Happy and Big Dick Moneybags just hours ago. Someone, probably Benjamin, had reset the chairs while clearing the tables, leaving only the two for the detective and the rich man’s assistant to take seats opposite each other, the lantern placed in between them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Abe could see the windows of the doors separating the dining car from the lounge and make sure none of the others took them by surprise.

In theory, at least, because despite the vantage point he could clearly see the pink and yellow practically gleaming in the darkness out of the corner of his other eye.

Abe shot a glare at Wilford, lounging at the next table over with his feet propped up and a full glass in hand, his silent question not answered by Wilford’s over-mouthing the words, “Buddy system.”

Mack sighed as he sank into his chair, before adopting an upright posture and clasping his hands neatly in front of him, fixing the detective with a stare that straddled the line between rapt attention and polite hostility. When he spoke, his voice was the same, perfectly polite with just enough of a hint of sarcasm to make Abe wonder if he was imagining it.

“Okay, detective, what would you like to know? I’ll have you know I keep careful track of Mr. Bags’ schedule, and in turn my own, and there isn’t an hour of the day that can’t be accounted for.”

“Fascinating,” Abe answered, and judging by Mack’s raised eyebrow the detective suspected he hadn’t quite matched the same ratio of sarcasm there.

To hell with it, then, he wasn’t here to beat around the bush, especially when the bush was buried six feet deep in snow and counting.

“What do you know about the victim?” Abe asked.

Mack shrugged. “Not much. He was a fellow passenger on the train, I know he dined with Mr. Bags and yourself, and from what I understand he soon went back to his room after dinner rather than loiter around the lounge carousing like the rest of the passengers. Clearly a man of some sense, if I had to judge by that alone.”

“I’d hardly call it carousing,” Abe said, although his own memories went a little fuzzy not long after dinner. He was fairly sure he would remember anything like that happening though, or at least he hoped so if it was any good. “From the way Moneybags talked at dinner, it sounded like he wouldn’t have said no to some partying if there was any going on.”

The other man’s mouth twitched on one side into a faint smirk before sliding back into a passive frown. “I’m sure he would have, if the company had been a little less…fraught. As it was, Mr. Bags went back to his own room to relax in privacy, while I reviewed the latest numbers and news for anything worth passing on to his notice in the morning.”

“Always keeping busy, huh?” Abe asked, thinking of the piles of paperwork in Mack’s room. That, and he needed something to keep the man talking while he went back over what he’d just said and sticking on the same point again and again.

“It is a vacation for Mr. Bags, not so much for his aide de camp. Someone has to keep track of his accounts and business dealings while he flits from one place to another.”

“He must trust you a lot, then,” Abe said, giving Mack a moment to swell up with pride before bursting his bubble. “Even despite the whole, you know, almost poisoning him thing yesterday.”

“I didn’t know the drink was poisoned,” Mack protested, voice rising an octave higher. “Why on earth would I harm the man who’s paying my wages? I don’t know who would do such a thing, but I know you’d be better off pointing your finger at nearly anyone else on this train!”

“Yeah, about that,” Abe said, leaning forward and resting an arm on the small table between them. “You said something about the other passengers just a second ago there, and I seem to recall a lot of less than friendly staring going on over dinner, and for once it wasn’t all directed my way. Care to explain why the other passengers aren’t so hot on your boss?”

“How should I know?” Mack asked and the detective scoffed.

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re hanging around Moneybags so much you might as well be his shadow? If anyone here knows why someone might have a grudge against the guy, I’m guessing it’d be you.”

Mack shrugged. “That’s just it--I can think of many reasons someone might have a grudge against a man like him. Mr. Bags said so himself, just yesterday: one does not reach his…position in life without making a few enemies along the way. Former business partners, those who found their proposals for contracts undercut by someone who had the pockets to go far lower than any reasonable or sustainable offer, shareholders bought out just before a big payday, and then there’s the people with some kind of moral mission that doesn’t line up with the economic reality of the world, or just your common employee riffraff…”

“Such as yourself?” Abe asked, getting a low whistle from Wilford over in the peanut gallery.

“I’m hardly some common service worker or desk lackey,” Mack answered, sitting up even straighter with barely concealed outrage when Abe scoffed at that. “I am Mr. Bags’ righthand man, I am well-compensated for my work, including stock and shares options—which is exactly why it’s in my best interest for Richard M. Bags to stay alive.”

“…Yeah, I’m not seeing it,” Abe answered and Mack sighed, all but shaking his head at the detective’s ignorance.

“Basically, I have a stake in multiple businesses owned by Mr. Banks. Not enough to have any controlling interests, of course, but the value of my shares go up when said businesses do well. Do you know what happens to a company’s stock, if its owner suddenly and without warning dies?”

“Depends on if he was any good at his job, I’m guessing.”

Again that little twitch at the corner of Mack’s mouth, this time accompanied by one near the corner of his eye. The man was struggling hard to control his reaction to those words, but the light and shadows cast by the lantern only highlighted every movement of the face seated across from Abe.

“Perhaps in the long run, but the stock market is nothing but a mob of people who are easily spooked by any sudden change,” Mack said. “Put simply, I cannot afford to allow anything to happen to Mr. Bags—not only does my current salary depend on him, but I also have quite the nest egg invested in some of his enterprises.”

Mack shook his head. “No, when I say an employee might have a grudge against the man, I mean those employed by some of his most recent acquisitions who have either been recently let go or have reason to believe they will soon be found redundant or unnecessary. Like the waiter back there, or the chef for example.”

“…What?”

“Well, this doesn’t exactly look like a line that’s earning its keep, does it?” Mack asked, gesturing around at the empty and dark train. “All this money and effort, just to move how many passengers from one place to the other? Honestly, if taking this train hadn’t been convenient for Mr. Bags with his other traveling difficulties, I’m sure it would have already been decommissioned or combined with another line.”

“Hold on,” Abe said, as this new information suddenly clicked with something that Peter had told him, back when the detective asked how he ended up pulling double duty as both engineer and conductor. “Moneybags is the new owner? The same one who let a bunch of people go as soon as he took over?”

Mack shrugged. “The very same. I’m surprised this is the first you’re hearing of it, detective. As far as letting people go, it’s standard procedure when new management takes over, isn’t it? People who aren’t tied to ‘this is how we’ve always done it’ or other excuses to keep more employees around than is strictly necessary.”

Except it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it, Abe realized. Happy had said something about a railway when he met Moneybags at dinner, but at the time it had completely slipped by the detective.

“I think most people would consider needing more than 3 people to keep a train running to be necessary,” Abe said.

“But it was running, wasn’t it? At least until we ran into the snow, but what could we have done to prevent that?”

“Just guessing, but did some of those ‘unnecessary’ employees include people to keep the tracks cleared?”

Mack chose to ignore the question, or at least his reply wasn’t much of an answer. “You are missing the point, detective. Mr. Bags is cutting off the dead weight, trimming budgets and freeing up money that can then be invested back into the company. The value goes up, the stockholders are happy, investors are more than interested in buying what is now a thriving rail line—”

“Thriving?” Abe echoed.

“Thriving on paper, in stock, in income over expense, in every way that really matters,” Mack insisted. “And so Mr. Bags will sell the rail company on in time and move on to the next enterprise, as he has so many times before.”

“Leaving a horde of angry former employees behind him, plus whoever’s unlucky enough to buy the thing before realizing it’s been cut down to the bone until there’s barely enough left to make a decent skeleton,” Abe continued, and to his credit Mack raised his brows and all but nodded without going so far as to verbally confirm it. “Okay…”

Abe leaned back in his chair, pressing a hand to his mouth as that information sank in. Sure, he already knew the guy had enemies, at least one on the train, but now Peter, Benjamin, and the Chef were looking a hell of a lot more suspicious.

Or they would be, except it wasn’t Richard M. Bags, Esq. lying dead in another car.

“So you’re saying you were in your compartment from after dinner until the train stopped?” Abe asked, and when Mack nodded, “And after that?”

“I went and joined Mr. Bags in his room,” Mack answered. “I believe you saw me do so, and he can confirm I stayed with him until the body was discovered.”

“About that,” Abe said, “When the train stopped and everyone was in the hall, did you see Happy?”

“Happy?”

“Apless, the dead man,” Abe said, flicking the question away with a gesture of his hand. “Everyone was milling around in the dark, but he would have been just across the hall from you. Did you see him?”

“It would have been difficult to make out anyone in the darkness,” Mack said. His brow furrowed as he thought, and he said, “I recall hearing voices—Ms. Whitacre, the bartender, the man with the…”

He paused, clearly struggling to find a descriptor for Illinois, before settling on, “Nice hat, and yourself. But I couldn’t see anything until you turned your lighter on, and even that wasn’t much.”

“Thing is, I could have sworn I saw someone going in his room just before Benjamin and I went up front to see what was going on, and you were standing in the perfect place to have seen something,” Abe said.

Mack hesitated and admitted, “I did see something, but I’ll admit I’m not sure you would like me to mention it…”

“What is it?” Abe asked, leaning forward again. “Come on, out with it!”

“It’s just that I did happen to see you, leaving the room that I know belonged to the victim.”

“…Me?” Abe frowned, trying to figure out what Mack was getting at until it suddenly dawned on him.

“Now, it’s entirely none of my business what two grown men do together in their own private time, but seeing as you were in his room and therefore quite possibly the last person to see Apless alive before ‘discovering’ the body—”

Wilford chuckled to himself and Abe (barely) resisted the urge to throw something at his head.

“You’ve got it wrong, pal,” Abe said, cutting Mack off before he could go any further. “Happy and I agreed to switch rooms at dinner, remember?”

“…You did?” Mack seemed genuinely stunned by this news, and Abe remembered that he had been sitting at a different table at the time. “Did Mr. Bags know about this?”

“He was thrilled, having someone willing to play watchdog for his paranoia right across the hall,” Abe answered. It may have been a little bit of spite that made him add, “I guess he didn’t feel the need to share that with you, huh?”

“No, not even when he was terrified for his life after the lights went out,” Mack muttered to himself. “Made me sit between him and the door, in case someone tried to break in while you were away with the bartender.”

Abe frowned at that, his light jab having accidentally punched through to something deeper, unexpected, like punching into poorly patched drywall and finding a staircase leading down on the other side of the hole.

Not telling Mack about Happy was one thing, bordering close to a wise decision on Richard’s part when he didn’t know who to trust, but not calling the agent over when he thought he was in danger? Why would someone so predisposed to believe other people existed solely for his benefit hesitate to send for assistance he knew should have been right across the hall?

“And you didn’t step out of the room at all?” Abe asked, and immediately caught the twitch in the other man’s eye. “Why, what were you doing?”

“Mr. Bags sent me to get the agent, but I couldn’t get him to answer his door,” Mack admitted, in turn answering Abe’s thoughts. “I suppose now we know why, but at the time I thought he had returned to sleeping.”

“Or just didn’t want to bother with Richard,” Abe said, a theory Mack didn’t protest. “Anything else?”

“I did return to my room to retrieve some spare candles and matches, both facts Mr. Bags can confirm when you speak to him,” Mack said. “He was in hysterics and demanded a light, claiming that there had been someone in his room before the train stopped despite no evidence of a break-in. I honestly assumed it was paranoia on his part after all of the recent close calls, especially when he swore on multiple occasions that he could hear footsteps in the hall and had me check each time.”

“He had you look instead of just keeping the door closed and locked?” Abe asked.

Mack scoffed at that before he could help himself, and quickly recovered with a smooth, “In the heat of the moment, it’s not always easy to think of the simple and effective solution, detective. And for the record, I never actually saw anyone until you started shouting and slamming doors a few minutes later.”

Did Abe believe that? No, but then he wasn’t much for taking people at their word, and Mack had been saying a lot during this little interrogation.

Just not anything that explained what Abe had found while investigating the man’s room earlier.

“You’re the kind of person not to forget details I’m guessing,” Abe said, and Mack acknowledged the compliment with a tilt of his head. “Did you and Moneybags keep your doors locked during dinner?”

“Of course,” Mack answered. “I checked both myself; I have several confidential papers in my room, and Mr. Bags has a number of valuables among his items that might tempt some unscrupulous thieves.”

“And with those valuable papers in your compartment and the train in disarray, I’m guessing you locked your door again while you were with Mr. Bags?”

“I’m sure I did,” Mack said. “Why does that matter?”

“Just considering possible routes the killer could have taken, before and after the fact,” Abe said. “You locked your door after you picked up the candles too, correct? And did you notice anything amiss in your room when you went back for them?”

“Yes, of course I did, and no, I didn’t notice anything odd,” Mack answered, before hesitating. “Should I have?”

Abe shrugged. “Not if you were busy looking for candles and matches in the dark, like you said you were. It would have been easy to miss something taken—or something put in there, is what I suppose you’ll say about—”

He reached for his pocket, ready to slam the incriminating evidence down on the table between them, before belatedly realizing he’d left the contraption in its hidden compartment out of a healthy desire not to become the thing’s next victim.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you Boo,” Wilford declared, before springing forward and dropping the contraption on the table between them, the metal gleaming wickedly in the lanternlight.

“Why do you have that?!” Abe asked, while Mack jumped back with a shout when the device triggered, causing the hidden blade inside to slash upwards before falling back against the table with a weak thump.

Wilford shrugged. “Because it seemed too nice just to leave hanging around in some dusty hole.”

“I don’t understand,” Mack started weakly, before clearing his throat and making a valiant but futile effort to recover some of his dignity after the noise he’d made. “What exactly does this have to do with me, detective?”

“Tell me what you know about this,” Abe said, gesturing at the device while keeping his fingers well away from any of the jagged joints.

“That it appears to be an incredibly dangerous and stupid thing to keep on one’s person?” Mack suggested. When that failed to impress the detective, he frowned at the contraption and considered it a little longer before adding, “Judging by the knife, I have to assume it’s a weapon of some kind, meant to be triggered by weight or movement perhaps.”

He reached toward the metal before quickly thinking better of the idea and instead producing a pen from his pocket to prod it with instead. As the pen grazed against a pad on top of the contraption it seized into movement again, flicking out the blade with the same unnerving movement as before.

“A very sensitive trigger at that,” Mack said, after both he and Abe had a moment to shout surprised obscenities at the thing. He slowly put his pen back in its pocket. “It rather reminds me of the booby traps that man with all the tall tales claims to have run into during his travels. Perhaps you should be asking him about this instead of myself?”

“See, the thing about that is, we didn’t find this in Illinois’s room,” Abe said, tapping the table a safe distance away from the trap. “I found it in your room, stashed away but not hidden well enough it seems.”

“You searched my room?”

Abe ignored the accusing tone and pressed on. “And according to you, no one else could have been in your room. You locked the door yourself every time you were out, and because of Moneybags you kept an eye and an ear on everyone moving in the hallway after the lights went out from right next door—it would take a very skilled lockpick to get the door open without you noticing.”

“And how, exactly, did you get into my room, detective?” Mack asked.

“Yeah, no, I’m the one asking questions here kid.”

Mack tapped the table, the rapid motion matching his thoughts. “But I think that should answer your own question, if you think about it. Did you force your way into my room, or, as I’m willing to bet, did you have a key to get in?”

He didn’t even give Abe a chance to answer, instead pressing on with his train of thought. “I of course have a key, but it’s still here in my pocket. I’m sure there’s at least one spare key on this train, if not a master key for every room, if not multiple copies—after all, careless guests lock themselves out of their rooms, and emergencies happen. And if one such employee gave you a key for your investigation, what’s to say he or another employee didn’t use the same key to let himself into my room? Or, if we want to be charitable, perhaps someone ‘borrowed’ one such key and has since returned it. Doesn’t that seem the least bit plausible, detective?”

“More or less plausible than you hiding the damn thing yourself?” Abe asked. “If you’re so clever, tell me this: why would someone take the risk of getting caught to hide this thing in your room instead of anywhere else on the train?”

“Oh, that’s easy, detective,” Mack answered, getting an eyebrow raise out of Abe but no comment. “Think about it: they would have needed the key to enter the victim’s room and place their trap. No doubt they saw the confusion and the darkness as the perfect cover to remove the murder weapon and hide it in a room that they knew to be empty, to put the suspicion on someone else if it were to be found. I went into Mr. Bags’s room at the same time we all saw you and the bartender go up front to question the engineer.”

Mack held up three fingers as he continued, “That gave our murderer three potential scapegoats. You would be immediately tossed out—after all, you would be the most likely to lead the investigation if the body were soon found, and why would you suspect yourself?”

Abe grimaced at that. He suspected everyone, without reservation, but more than that he remembered the bottle of poison in his pocket that someone had hidden in the bottom of his own bag. Whoever had left that there hadn’t needed a key, mostly because Abe had forgotten there were even locks on the doors until it became a key point in his investigation.

(In fact, most of the things Abe noticed were because of their potential to be linked to a crime, either existing or potential. Most people too, now that he thought about it.)

Mack lowered one finger. “My compartment, then, would be the closest to the victim’s room. And if we’re going off of the idea that the person most likely to have a key would be an employee…”

He shook the last finger representing Benjamin, reminding Abe of someone wagging a finger at a naughty child.

Maybe that’s why he was so quick to shoot the idea down. “You mean the employee you just said was walking to the front of the train with me at the time?”

“Well, there was a period of time after you two came back before the body was found, wasn’t there?” Mack asked defensively. “And the bartender isn’t the only employee on this train.”

Abe continued frowning, partially because he knew Mack had a point there, but mostly because he wanted to see where else the man would point that finger if given half a chance.

And Mack certainly didn’t disappoint him there, as he sighed and asked, “Really, is that not enough to convince you? While you can simply ask Mr. Bags and he could easily confirm that this…contraption here is completely unlike anything in my own possession, I’m not sure the other guests on the train could say the same. That professor, she does seem the type to prefer overcomplicated devices, doesn’t she? Or as I said, the adventurer could have easily picked this up on his travels.”

Mack gestured toward the supposedly inactive trap, still not trusting it enough to let his fingers stray anywhere close to the thing. “Either one of them could have stolen a spare key to plant the trap, first in the victim’s room and then in mine to hide their trail, but returning it would have been much more difficult. Which, again, points to someone who would have had easy access to all three rooms at any time.”

“It’s a nice theory,” Abe said, Mack giving a little noise at that, “But that’s all it is. And it still doesn’t answer the big question: why?”

Mack shrugged. “Why not a double blind? The more complicated the knot, the harder it is to notice the simple solution. Or do you mean why the bartender would have it out for the victim, or rather, for you?”

“What would killing Happy have to do with me?” Abe asked, ignoring the tight knot in his own stomach.

“Perhaps I wasn’t the only one unaware of the room switch?” Mack asked, and the knot grew tighter. Abe swore he saw the ghost of a smirk on the man’s face, like he could feel the detective’s growing unease. “That’s the problem with setting traps: you can’t guarantee the person that walks into it is the one you were hoping to catch.”

Abe didn’t answer. His mind was spiraling in on the thought, trapped in a vortex of the past repeating itself, as it did every time. Again and again and again, leaving him dizzy and just wanting to get off this wild ride of a train currently going nowhere.

Again Mack shrugged. “The simple fact of the matter is, I don’t have a motive here. I didn’t have anything against the man, I barely knew Apless any more than I know you, detective. Can you say the same for everyone else on board this train?”

There wasn’t much left for Abe to ask Mack, or at least nothing he could think of after that, so after a few half-hearted tries he just told the man to go back to the lounge car and send the next person in for questioning.

As Mack closed the car door behind him, revealing a smug look that he wasn’t even bothering to hide anymore, Wilford leaned against the back of Abe’s chair and remarked, “Well, I don’t know a whole lot about this whole ‘interrogation” thing, but I think that went well!”

“Do you think someone on this train wants me dead?” Abe asked, too numb to care who he was asking that question to before it was too late.

“Probably!” Wilford shrugged when Abe turned and looked up at him. “What? You’re not very good at making friends, you know.”

“Or keeping them,” Abe muttered. “What if Happy’s dead because of me?”

“Eh, he’ll get over it, I’m sure,” Wilford said, waving the thought away with his hand. “You barely even knew the guy!”

Abe wondered if that made it worse or not, before shaking himself out of it. “You don’t just ‘get over’ being dead!”

“You’d be surprised,” Wilford said, but the detective just stood up and pushed him away before pacing around the room.

Abe needed to get his head straight before the next suspect came walking in that door, but there was too much going on in there for him to just shake it off. Wilford, as much as he hated to admit it, was right about one thing: Abe barely knew Happy, so why had his death rattled him so much?

“You just have a big heart, detective,” Wilford said, smiling as he once again intruded on Abe’s personal thoughts. “So much love and affection—”

“If you do not shut up I can and will find out what this gun does to your face,” Abe said, pulling Happy’s gun on the man to illustrate his point.

Wilford obligingly shut his yap, giving Abe a moment to study the bizarre, toylike weapon. He really didn’t know anything about Agent Harold Apless, and Peter, Illinois, Professor Beauregard, and Mack all claimed not to know the man either. So who here did? Who here might know enough about the man to possibly have a reason to kill him?

Or, failing that, who had a reason to kill Abe?

Unfortunately, it was the same story with each and every interrogation that followed.

“I’m afraid I didn’t know the unfortunate young man,” Dorene Whitacre admitted, pulling her shawl in close against the chill in the darkened dining car. “I did try to start a conversation with him earlier at the bar, before and after dinner, but he struck me more as the strong, silent type. A good listener, but not one to sit still for long, judging by how he was roaming around the train.”

“When you were talking to him, did he suggest he might know someone on the train, or where he was going?” Abe asked.

She shook her head. “I’m not sure he said anything about himself, now that I think about it. I’m not even sure he even told me his name, but I did get a little distracted when Illinois introduced himself. You said it was Happy?”

“More like a nickname,” Abe admitted. “You and Illinois seemed pretty close when I saw you yesterday, to have just met.”

“Oh, well it was the first time meeting him in person,” Dorene said with a smile. “We’ve exchanged a few letters over the years, as I’ve helped fund the occasional expedition. A fascinating man, really.”

“Eh, I liked Harrison Ford better,” Wilford muttered from the other table, over the flask he had once again “borrowed” from the detective without his noticing.

“Jealous much?” Abe asked, unable to help himself.

“Jealous?” Dorene repeated, considering for a moment. “No, I don’t think this Happy fellow was too bothered by Illinois taking over the conversation. As I said, he wasn’t much of a talker, and I suspect he was just looking for an excuse to politely wander away. I’m afraid I do tend to go on a bit, when the mood strikes.”

He encouraged Dorene to go on a bit more, but her story matched what Illinois had told her earlier, and while she admitted to having a nightcap at the bar the older woman claimed not to have seen anything amiss before going back to her room around the same time as the others.

“Although I was quite worried about you, sleeping away in the lounge like that,” Dorene said. “The bartender, that nice young man Benjamin, said that he would make sure you found your way back to your room once he was done cleaning up.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Abe asked, glancing at Wilford who just shrugged.

“I did try to wake you,” Benjamin protested, once it was his turn in the hot seat. “But my attempts to rouse you failed, and, if I may say so, you are not the easiest person to move when you do not wish to be moved.”

Abe half-expected a comment from Wilford at that, but when he looked around he realized that it was just him and the bartender. “Where the devil…?”

“Is something wrong, detective?”

Abe shook his head, even as he quietly filed away the suspicion forming in the back of his mind for now. “Yeah, how about you deciding to just leave me to sleep it off in the lounge car?”

“I somehow doubted that it was the worst place you’ve ever slept off a few too many drinks,” Benjamin said, the former butler quickly raising his gloved hands to defend himself when he saw the detective’s expression. “And with everyone else in their rooms I assumed it would be safe enough. How was I to know there was a—a killer among us?”

He stuttered a bit at that last minute swap of words, as if afraid to voice the word even here.

“Look, pal, I know a lot happened back there, at that house, and you and I didn’t leave there on the best of terms—”

“Really? Aside from some harsh words said in the heat of the moment, I rather thought we were—” Benjamin started, but Abe shushed him with a gesture and continued.

“That place, what happened there, it changed us. You can’t just see what we saw, experienced what we did, and not have it affect you in some way. I mean, look at the Colonel!”

Not that he was here at the moment, but at his words Benjamin’s face became rigid, unmoving except for the play of the lanternlight. “I’d rather not.”

“If there’s something you want to tell me, something you want to get off your chest about what happened back then—”

“I do not!” Benjamin paused, the light from the lantern still shaking about from his sudden outburst, and it was with obvious restraint that he continued, “Detective, there is nothing more I want to do than put everything that happened in that…place as far from my mind as possible. You may wish to dwell in the past, but the chef and I have moved on, or we’re trying to as best we can. I will admit that I was…less than pleased to see you on the train, with all the memories you bring with you, but I sincerely hope that you try to do the same, for your own good. It is not good to dwell in your grief, detective, not for so long.”

“How long has it been?” Abe asked.

“Pardon?”

“Since the manor, since the party, how long has it been?”

Benjamin shrugged. “Long enough to acknowledge the pain without letting it control you, I should think.”

Abe felt something in his face twitch and he said, “Bold words from someone who keeps a life-size portrait of his former boss in his room.”

“…You were in my room?” Benjamin asked.

Oh. Right. Maybe he should have held onto that piece of information a little longer, although in Abe’s defense he kind of assumed Mack would have told the others about the room search by now.

“Are you really surprised though?” Abe asked in return and Benjamin sighed.

“No, I suppose not. And I am also not ashamed of the painting. It was one of his bequests to me in his will, and I rather thought it made for a nice likeness of him.”

“Mark had a will?”

“And I never said there was anything wrong with remembering what we lost during that terrible weekend, simply that it does nothing to wallow in grief,” Benjamin continued. He frowned at the detective and added, “Somehow it feels like you’re trying to do both at the same time: forget, and drown in grief.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Abe protested. Hell, it would be nice if he could forget what happened at the manor, if only to get a moment’s peace.

Unbidden and without warning, Abe recalled sitting opposite Wilford, the mug in the other man's hands with the words “SPOILER ALERT!” emblazoned on the side and his stomach clenched in on itself as though bracing for a knife’s edge to go in.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Abe said through gritted teeth.

“You’re the one who got us off topic in the first place!” Benjamin retorted. “Nothing that happened back then has anything to do with Mr. Apless. Why, I never met the man before today—or rather, it would be yesterday now—and I certainly would have remembered if he were one of Master Mark’s acquaintances.”

“You still call him—you know what, never mind.” Abe shook his head before he could open up that can of worms too. “How many times have you run this route, do you think?”

“Oh…” Benjamin thought for a moment, blowing some air between his lips. “I don’t know, it’s rather hard to keep track with all of the shuttling back and forth. I will say, the conductor, chef, and I have become rather old hands at it. Mostly because everyone else who used to help run this line was let go when the new owner took over, but we’ve gotten to know each other fairly well. Enough so that I couldn’t imagine Peter having a hand in this gruesome business.”

“And the chef?” Abe asked and the butler hesitated.

“Not without a good reason, and I don’t think poor Mr. Apless would have had time to create such a motive,” Benjamin said. “Why, the two of them seemed to be chatting quite well after we left the station, or as much as the chef chats with anyone. There was certainly no animosity there.”

“Yeah, I talked to the guy,” Chef said with a shrug when he took his place in the interrogation chair. “That against the rules or something, being friendly with a guest?”

“How well did you know him?”

“Not at all, guy barely said two words about himself if even that much,” the chef said. “Look, he wanders into my kitchen, I politely tell him the place is off limits—”

“—I seem to recall you physically pushing me out and threatening to—”

“—And he apologized and went on his merry way,” Chef finished without listening to Abe. “Did stop at the door and said he’d heard good things about the food on the train and asked if that was my doing. Told him yep, I do it all myself, from start to finish, which is why the only one going in and out of that car is me.”

He pointed his thumb back over his shoulder at the darkened door on the other side of the dining car which connected it to the now inactive kitchen. Abe nodded along, figuring that probably told Happy all he needed to know if he was trying to get a feel for how many people were on the train and who they were.

The gesture caused Abe to look toward the window in the door leading to said kitchen, just in time to catch Wilford looking guilty with a cookie in hand before he ducked out of sight.

“What are you looking at?” the chef asked, turning to glare at the seemingly empty window.

“Hang on a second,” Abe said, and not just because he did not want to be a witness to what the chef would do if he caught Wilford of all people having just raided his kitchen, or worse be forced to pick sides in the inevitable bloodbath. “Whitacre was back there with you before dinner, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, borrowed one of my ovens to make some cookies,” Chef answered without batting an eye.

“But that’s…you literally just said no one else in your kitchen, why is she the exception?”

Chef leaned forward and made full eye contact with Abe to make sure the detective heard him clearly when he answered, “Because Dorene L. Whitacre is a god damn delight, that’s why.”

Wilford popped up in the window again to give a big thumb’s up at that before disappearing once more from sight, like some deranged jack-in-the-box.

Abe’s hands flexed and he felt his face tighten as he strained to control himself before asking, “So you’ve met her before?”

The chef shrugged. “I’ve worked in a lot of places, met a lot of people. You should know, you dug around in my past same as everyone else for that asshole Mark. And believe me, any chef worth his salt knows that when Dorene Whitacre offers to share her chocolate chip cookie recipe with you, you damn well take her up on that offer. Simple as that, man, don’t know what else to tell you.”

“And Happy wasn’t one of those people?” Abe asked. “Are you sure about that?”

“Never seen the man before in my life until he walked into my kitchen yesterday,” Chef answered.

“…What about Richard Moneybags? You know anything about him?” Abe asked, and just like when he presented the question to Dorene and Benjamin, he certainly got an answer.

((End of Part 9. Thanks for reading! This and the next one are both on the long side--I probably should have tried harder to break them up better, but I didn't.

Also sorry for all the stock and business talk from Mack.

Link to Part 10: A Ticket to Ride here.

Tag list: @silver-owl413 @asteriuszenith @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @95fangirl @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-star-eyes @shyinspiredartist @avispate @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox@hidinginmybochard))

#markiplier #fanfiction #wkm abe #wilford warfstache #iswm mack #benjamin the butler #dorene whitacre #murder on the warfstache express

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jrosa82 · 6 months ago

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Part 22 of Discovering Safety

Jason is sitting in his office working out the details for a new project. This time he will be assisting the Gotham General Hospital in updating the pediatric ward, the one that had been named after Martha Wayne. The relatively small project was Jason’s way of getting back to work without worrying Bruce, seeing as the man didn’t want him to overwork himself after his harrowing experience. He had been working for a few hours that day when his office phone began ringing.

“Hello-” He begins before being interrupted by Dick.

“Jason, hey I was wondering if you’re busy.” The alpha rushes the sentence out before following up with “I was hoping I could take you to lunch.

That’s how half an hour later Jason finds himself having lunch at a dinner a few blocks from the office, with Dick asking him about his latest project. As they eat Jason can tell the other has something on his mind, because although he’s attentive he is also practically bouncing in his seat from excitement.

“Do you want to tell me what’s got you so excited?” he asks.

“I do, actually. I’ve been looking for a new place to live for a while and today I finally bought one. I’m planning on moving out this weekend, and will hopefully have the place furnished by Monday.”

It’s not what Jason is expecting at all, and he doesn’t know what to say, much less how he feels. Over the last two month they had been dating, and as winter grew nearer he felt sure that by next year they would be mated. It felt wrong for Dick to make a big decision without consulting him, and yet the other man didn’t technically need his permission. He wasn’t sure where that left them, but figured it’d be better to ask for more details, including Dick’s motives for moving out.

“That’s great, but what brought this on? You never mentioned any plans to move before.”

“Oh, I guess I haven’t talked with you about it. It’s simple really, since I was 18 I lived on my own. I’d really gotten used to making my own rules and doing my own thing. When I moved back I wasn’t sure where I was going next so I didn’t want to waste the money on an apartment in the city when I had a room waiting for me. But I think it's time for me to leave the nest again, and once I saw the offer on this place I just knew it was perfect for me.”

As Dick spoke Jason became increasingly more upset. It was clear to him that Dick didn’t see them having a future together any time soon. The alpha kept saying how he wanted things to be for himself. He didn’t mention Jason in his plans at all, not even hinting that Jason could maybe live in this home of his one day.

Jason wouldn’t say he feels entitled to such a privilege, but he does worry that they want very different things from their relationship. Jason knows Dick’s been in relationships before, but he hadn’t thought to ask if theirs was different, if Dick wanted to try for something permanent with him.

❋✱❋✱❋✱❋

Dick feels elated as he tells Jason about his plans. He had wondered if he should wait to buy the place so that Jason could see it for himself first, but then he’d worried that it would be bought by someone else if he didn’t act quickly. After buying the two-story house he felt like he was one step closer to a future with Jason. Before he can begin to feel too excited about it though Jason’s sour apple scent reaches him and he pauses.

“I don’t think we want the same things from this relationship Dick,” Jason begins and as the words reach his ears he feels his heart plummet. “I think we should end things here before someone gets hurt.” Jason says as he stands and leaves, throwing a few bills on the table to cover his part of the meal. Dick doesn’t get a chance to respond as the omegas rushes out of the dinner.

#fanfic #jaydick #omegaverse

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cloudsandcrescents · 11 months ago

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What’s your publishing schedule looking like?

That’s a great question. I have no clue (kidding but also not?)

Kidding…not kidding lol…send help pls. But seriously.

Rough Schedule (As it Stands)

I’m currently working on a follow up to Relinquish that sort of fell by the wayside. That is nearly done (75-80%) and it will be up before the end of week (ideally today or tomorrow). This will just be added as a second chapter to the original.

Leather Black I’m actually planning to post more frequently on because that’s meant to be a short series similar to how I did Empty Rooms. I’m planning to resume updates for that this week/weekend with weekly updates but will ideally be more like every 2-3 days depending on my schedule. I really like this one so I’m eager to update for it but I think I just started tackling it at a time where there was a lot going on in my personal life that messed up my schedule quite a bit.

After Hours is reaching its end with maybe another 2-3 chapters (the last likely being an epilogue) so I’m trying to wrap it up by getting back to (at minimum) a biweekly update schedule. Max I’m giving myself to finish is through end of January since that’s around when I first started it. Should have an update to this by the end of next week.

Similar to After Hours, I intend to wrap up Promise Me very soon as well with, likely, another 2-3 chapters. The alternating updates really worked well for me as I would just toggle between which one was the previously updated fic. (Unrelated) Promise Me I’ve actually been debating on because I already set the layout for a sequel in my head. I was thinking about whether I wanted to just keep it going or create a separate fic for it and right now I feel like the latter so we’re surprisingly wrapping that up soon. Should have an update on this in about two weeks if not sooner.

I want to lighten the load before I tackle anything further so I think this is the point where I kind of stop the addition of any new fics until I get a better handle on my current WIP. That said, I most likely won’t be updating Hour of Need or When We Serve until I finish After Hours and Promise Me. Encore is there as well though I’m feeling a little iffy on whether or not I want to come back to that but we’ll see. HoN and WWS will likely follow the pattern of alternating biweekly or even weekly updates between the two once After Hours and Promise Me are done. We’re going to give these a hopeful return in early February but may come sooner.

I’ve gotten several Tumblr requests in my asks that I do see and will definitely get too. I have a tendency to overload myself and I’m very susceptible to burnout so those are just a little behind but I’m hoping to add a few into my update schedule resuming in Mid-Jan/Early-Feb if not sooner once I wrap up Leather Black and my other two bigger fics.

As always, thank you everyone for being so patient with me. I hope that I’m fortunate enough where I can eventually just write for a living and just play with words all day. Until then, I most resume my normal day to day life which isn’t nearly as exciting but keeps me equally busy. I write most of my fics on my phone but also try to sit at my computer to write which tends to motivate me more. Unfortunately, my computer has been inoperable for a few months now as I’ll likely need to replace the CPU I’m pretty sure I broke lol. It’s had to take a backseat to a few other things but I’m planning to get a replacement in mid January and hopefully that’ll help with a lot with my productivity.

I hope this provides anyone looking for their particular favorite of my works, a bit of relief knowing that updates are coming soon. Thank you all for being the best part of getting to do this, truly. 🩵

#ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #writing update #update schedule #pitch perfect #beca mitchell #bechloe #chloe beale #read on ao3 #bechloe fic #in short i tried to do way too much and am now reaping the consequences of my actions lol #send help #and snacks #but mostly help

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sinkat-arts · 2 years ago

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Daisuga WIP (Thursday) Wednesday

So, I decided at to start doing WIP Wednesday. I'm actively working on a long fic that won't be posted for... forever, and it might help me stay motivated if I can post little bits here and there? Anyway, I decided that at, like, 1 AM Pacific Time last night, so... very late. Which is why I'm posting this today. This is actually a part that I've scrapped from the larger fic, but I like it well enough to want to maybe do something else with.

For context, this is after the Interhigh Tournament, which was in June. Since Suga's birthday is also in June, I decided to combine the two. And since it's in Suga's POV, I use Koushi? I honestly don't know how he'd refer to himself in his head;;;; I also juggled the timeline and events of the day after Interhigh around a little bit, which is partially why I scrapped this.

13 June 2012

Suga

It should have been a day like any other. Just a Wednesday. There were many like it before and there would be many like it after. But this particular Wednesday was maybe a little different. This one was… well, it was a mixed fucking bag so far.

“I can’t even be happy on my birthday,” Koushi groused aloud. He picked halfheartedly at his packed bento, but even though his mom had made sure it was full of his favorite things, he just didn’t have much of an appetite today. “Thanks, Seijoh, just what I wanted. A big fat L for my birthday.”

Asahi took a sip of his juice. His giant paw of a hand dwarfed the box, making it look like a prop from a kid’s toy kitchen set. He gave a solemn nod in agreement, the picture of serious contemplation with the straw of a baby juice box still stuck in his mouth. Koushi couldn’t hold the giggle that bubbled up despite the dour mood.

“What?” Asahi asked, snapping into attention in a mild panic, “Something on my face?”

“You’re adorable,” Koushi answered, grinning and reaching over to pat his head, “You just make sure you finish your juice box like a good boy, ‘kay?”

Asahi didn’t miss that he was being teased. “Oh, ha ha,” he grumbled, running his empty hand over his hair to make sure none of it had escaped the tie holding it back, “You’re never too old for a juice box… and anyway, you’re the old man here, not me.”

“By, like, 6 months,” Koushi returned, but his attention had strayed away from his friend. His eyes scanned the courtyard, seeking. Koushi sucked his teeth in frustration - he hadn’t found his target. Again. “Are you sure…” he began.

“I’m sure,” Asahi cut in, doing a decent job of masking exasperation, but Koushi caught it all the same. The exasperation was well-deserved, though, so he let it slide. It wasn’t that Asahi predicted what he was going to say because he was psychic… he’d just been asked the question already. Twice in the course of 20 minutes. “I saw him this morning, but not since.”

“Lunch is halfway over,” Koushi said, pushing a piece of fried chicken around. “We could at least eat lunch together for my birthday… Do you think he forgot?”

Asahi raised his head, face inscrutable for a few seconds. Most of the time, the guy was an open book, he had all the guile of a puppy… but every now and then he had these moments. Moments where Koushi felt like Asahi knew something and was holding back.

“No,” he said, taking the last, loud draw of juice from the container before setting it down neatly on the table in front of him, “He wouldn’t forget. Something must have held him up… maybe a teacher grabbed him.”

“You think?”

“Maybe?” Asahi said with a shrug that was somehow sympathetic rather than dismissive, “We could go look for him.”

It could have been the shitty mood after losing yesterday - which was surprisingly devastating, considering how often the third years had experienced loss since coming to Karasuno - but something really wasn’t sitting right. He didn’t like the fact that he himself hadn’t laid eyes on Daichi all day, he didn’t like the look Asahi gave him, he didn’t like that he was at their table and Daichi wasn’t. He’d expected today to be kind of off, but it was too far off. Something had to be going on.

“Nah,” Koushi said and started pulling his bento back together, “I’ll go… you, uh… you hold the fort down in case he does come. Text me?”

Asahi nodded, but that weird look was back on his face. He wished he knew what it meant, but if he wanted to find Daichi and (gently) reprimand him for skipping out on lunch, he couldn’t press. He finished packing back up and turned away, walking at a pace that he hoped hid the fact that he was getting just the tiniest bit scared of what might be going on.

It’s nothing. Probably just what Asahi said… a teacher asked him to help with something. And Daichi can’t not help someone. The guy’s hopeless.

Still, his feet carried him faster and faster as he got closer to the nearest entrance to the school. There were a few places Daichi might be, assuming a teacher hadn’t sequestered him somewhere, so he turned himself towards what he thought the most likely spot would be and made his way to the gym.

At first glance, the place was empty, but that wasn’t cause for worry yet. He wouldn’t be on the court, not if there was something wrong, so Koushi made a straight line to the storage room. Closed, but unlocked… someone was in there. As silently as he could, he turned the knob until he felt the weight of the door swing free of the catch, and moved inside with a few soft steps. Ah, and there he was. Leaning against one of the ball caddies, shoulders slumped over and head in hand, Daichi was facing away from the one window that was the sole light source for the room. It was hard to make out his face, bathed in shadow as it was, but it was clear he was… lost. In thought, in his head, he was somewhere far enough away that he hadn’t noticed Koushi’s approach.

Koushi took a step forward and stopped at the sound of a sniffle. His heart dropped a little as he realized that those slumped shoulders were shaking a little. Even more when he realized Daichi wasn’t holding his head to support it, he was clutching one hand over his mouthing, desperately pressing against it and trying to keep everything in.

Part of him wanted to leave. Slip back out the door unseen. This was something private, something vulnerable. It wasn’t meant for anyone’s eyes, and if Daichi knew he’d seen… would that be a betrayal of some kind?

But that wasn’t all. Part of him wanted to leave because he was scared. Not just of how Daichi would react when he finally noticed him, but of himself. He was terrified of what he wanted to do in this moment. Rush forward, collect Daichi in his arms, find out what hurt and make it go away. How, though? What should he do? What could he possibly do that would help… and still keep him on that highwire he’d been walking ever since they were idiot first years and Daichi had smiled at him like that with his warm brown eyes and the sun in his stupidly handsome face.

What he wanted, what his instincts said to do, was too much. But his friend - his best friend - was hurting right in front of him, and whatever nonsense his heart was trying to pull right now, Daichi needed… something. It was, Koushi figured, in his job description to at least offer. Daichi could make the choice himself to tell him to leave or let him stay.

#wip wednesday #on a thursday #daisuga #sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #daichi #suga #haikyuu #haikyu #fanfic #also scrapped because I took a good hard look at what I was doing #and decided to keep it fully in Daichi's POV #as you can maybe tell this one is angsty #also I feel like poor asahi is in the middle of this multiyear pining situation #and is Tired

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romantic-reveries · 2 years ago

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Today was way more emotionally taxing than I would’ve expected, considering.

I spent the day with him. And it was fantastic and lovely and everything I wanted it to be except the part where we (he) is still no closer to figuring out the future. I thought… I thought that’s what this trip was for.

He brought it up before we even kissed. I’d been feeling it all day, and I thought it was the same fear of abandonment I’d been contending with all week that had me fighting the urge tooth and nail not to call it off. But he asked how I saw this—us—working. I don’t know, so I asked him. He said him not wanting to do long distance is hard, and me not driving makes it even harder. When I mentioned my grandma would drive me—she did with my ex, or met him halfway—he said that was a big ask. And he’s not wrong, but… that’s the only way it would work. I like to hope I’ll drive at some point, and maybe that’s motivation to try harder to overcome the fear, but… I mean, even if I drove, you have to drive through Atlanta to get to him, and that’s a huge ask for someone who has spent this long terrified of driving. If he lived on this side of Atlanta, maybe.

I mostly don’t understand, though. He knew that before he came. I didn’t hide it from him. He made it sound like we needed to talk about it in person, like he wanted to see what the commute was like, see if it was the same in person as it has been on the phone, but there isn’t much to say to that—him not wanting it and it being inconvenient seems pretty unmalleable. So why did he come? What was the point? When we talked about us meeting, it was always in the context of it being the next logical step to figure things out, except nothing changed, so why did we do it? And it wasn’t even a sexual thing, because he didn’t even originally plan on coming to my house, and even when he did, we didn’t go past fully clothed heavy petting.

And it’s funny, because when my grandma (bless her) asked if he’d be back, he intentionally didn’t answer, only said, “it’s not that far” in agreement with her, but when she asked previously how the trip was, he’d said “it won’t be that bad to make”, won’t, as if him coming back was a foregone thing.

I spent half the day wanting to cry because of the haunting feeling I was already carrying that I’ll never actually see him again. That this was just one beautiful day. And I kept reminding myself—he’s here now. Soak it up, be in the moment, enjoy it for what it is, and even if this is all it is, it was still good. Important. It’s fundamentally changed me, I think. Made me realize that men like him do exist. Who are consistent and stable and patient and kind.

But the thing is, multiple times today, I thought: I could do this forever. I’ve never wanted someone like that before, even guys I thought I was crazy about. He just feels like home. He’s somehow become my best friend. I don’t know if I’m in love with him, but I think I’m falling in love with him, and I’m fucking terrified.

Because if those guys I’ve fancied myself infatuated with before, who gave me nothing—if they hurt me? He has the ability to absolutely shatter me. I can’t imagine the kind of pain that would bring. The idea of continuing this… we both want each other and we flirt and we’re sexual with each other but nothing more is going to happen? The idea of him eventually getting back on dating apps and actively trying to date other people? Makes me sick to even consider.

And the worst part is, I couldn’t even be mad at him. I can’t blame him for wanting someone he can see daily if he wants to, and really, he deserves better than me anyway. Someone more stable. Someone who has their shit together. He’s such a wonderful person. He might be one of the best, kindest people I’ve ever met. And I’m lucky to know him, to have had him at all, even in this small capacity.

And even after spending all day with me, as he was leaving, I said I hoped he had a safe trip, and he said he’d text me when he got home. Then he said, “actually, you can call. I mean, I’m gonna be on the road for two hours.” He spent all fucking day with me and he still wants to talk.

And I’m telling myself, if it’s meant to be, if I’m worth it to him, he’ll make it work. But that doesn’t stop the maelstrom of conflicted feelings inside me. After he left, all I wanted to do was wash him off. The fear I’ve had for weeks, that maybe he’s just dragging this out until he decides he wants to date again, flared magnificently to life. Turns out I couldn’t completely wash him off—he gave me my first hickey at the ripe old age of almost 29 and all I can think about any of this is: why?

#personal #12.17.22 #atl boy

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roxygenstudiesagain · 2 years ago

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100 days of productivity (1/100) 12/7/22

I don’t intend to make this a daily record, mostly milestones n notable days. I woke up a lil later than I planned but I think I needed the lie-in to deal with all the moments I had to be patient today. I deffo feel like something new is starting, not just coz the semester and year is ending. Just a lot of cool resources falling into my lap and I appreciate it so much!

Today’s highlights

Was driven to campus, had to do my tuberculosis screening. My blister blew up lol. Friday and all this packet hustling for my new gig will be over. At least my boss likes me!

After months of feral avoidance I finally signed up with a new primary care provider! I hope my symptoms didn’t get too unsolvable in the time this took

Stood up for my name and bronouns even though I was nervous. Telling people I’m a boy called Roxy is hard, especially when they’re expecting a girl. I played it cool and grateful and the receptionist actually did a really amazing job handling it. I might ask for her details so I can commend her to her boss

Did a delivery gig that was over 20 usd, did the pickup, got food paid for by my college for me and my wife

Returned one of my portable WiFi hotspots and renewed another And got a 6 month Chromebook loan from the library (will have to tiktok it later). It’s like untouched. So fast. Writing is going to be a breeze.

Created a gif for one of my assignments at college (graphics) and commented on the sharing forum, reviewed all homework to do till the semester ends.

Got my grade back for my screenwriting class! Treatment got 23/25!! I’m happy I’ll take it :)

Sent a message to my professor about the spec script I’m thinking of doing and she approves of it and my potential entry into a very cool workshop ;^) watch this space

Things I gotta do soon:

Participate in screenwriting class at least a lil tomorrow

Get back into regular exercise (bike and ringfit. Hit 100 sessions a couple weeks back)

Keep up doing ukulele practice (I’ve actually been weirdly motivated as of recent)

Diet overhaul, talk with nutritionist about making something that will help me thrive

Book all my medical investigations, especially sleep study/pcos/plantar fasciitis resolutions. Maybe even scoliosis…. Now I have something nearby I can bug about stuff that I’ve ignored for years esp dental

Get into the swing of storyboards for my friends game

Get back into yoga

Establish a routine of communication w my family

Get on top of bills and cards

Pay off visa n sort citizenship

Work till the new semester starts, keep applying for animation gigs, grow LinkedIn and online platforms, folio fixes

Get back into publishing comic pages

#100 days of productivity #studyblr #becoming best self #self improvement #daily blogging #healing #school #academic tumblr #chrome book #trans #transmasc #lgbt experience

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waitingona-mirabel · 2 days ago

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Saturday, November 23 — The Final Labor: Based on the final task for the labors, write an AU featuring all your characters in a role. Choose an AU, set out a list of goals for yourself based on tropes within that AU (ex. a red shirt has to die if you’re doing Star Trek or someone in the group gets bitten by a zombie and doesn’t tell the rest if you’re doing an apocalypse), then write to your heart’s content! To count, each character must have a role and your tropes must be laid out beforehand.

SPORTS MOVIE AU

Inspired by High School Musical, Challengers, Miracle, that football book I read recently, that other amazing baseball romcom I read it's called You Should Be So Lucky, A League of Their Own TV Show, you get the idea

ROLES

Phineas: The announcer

Tiana: Veteran of the team

Aquata: The scary opponent

Annie: The sidekick

Mirabel: The underdog/protagonist

Lightning: The parent who doesn’t understand!

Smee: The opposing team’s asshole coach

Roz: The reluctant coach

Giselle: The love interest of the protagonist

TROPES

Down and out underdogs

For The Love Of The Game

Reluctant coach

Old rivalry

Unconventional coaching methods

Motivational speech

Star player gets injured

Rookie has a natural gift they never realized

The Game Winner

It’s Not My Dream, Dad, It’s Yours

Told with the framing device of a single game

Warnings: a minor injury, me TRULY messing up sports/soccer rules and terminology plz don't come for me, uhh complete lack of a setting is this high school is it college is it professional sports is it an adult rec league truly who knows!, anyway enjoy

LET'S GO!

Coin toss

The coin somersaulted through the air, almost as though in slow motion.

“Tails!” called Aquata Triton, earlier than she was really supposed to, but Mirabel didn’t expect the Sharks to play fair.

The coin landed on Heads. Out of the corner of her eye, Mirabel could see the smallest hint of a smile from Tiana.

Luck had never really been on the Phoenixes’ side. And Coach Roz always said that was a good thing, because it meant they didn’t have to be reliant on it. But today, Mirabel was going to take every smidge of luck she could get.

180 Days Before The Big Game

“No! Absolutely not. I’m retired,” Roz insisted, already rising out of her seat.

Headmaster Chairmouse sighed and rubbed his temples. “Please, Coach. If you still blame yourself for what happened in ‘99…”

“It’s not about ‘99! But yes, that was entirely my fault-”

“It wasn’t, Coach. You took a calculated risk. That’s what coaches do. Just because it failed doesn’t negate twenty years of great work. A lot of that is luck. And besides— I’m not asking you to win a championship this year. I’m just asking you to give these kids a coach that gives a shit. Which I know you’ve got in you. Teach ‘em some skills, get ‘em trained up for the next year, and maybe by the time that rolls around, I can find someone to step in who actually wants to be there. Six months. Just give me six months.”

Roz didn’t really believe him. She was certain he was only asking out of desperation. But, even after all these years, it was hard to resist the call of the game that had once been her whole life…

“And I’ll throw in a bonus,” Chairmouse added. “Money that I’m sure you could use right now.”

“Chairmouse!” Roz said hotly, but his expression remained neutral.

Chairmouse had her there, unfortunately. Two kids in uni…

“Fine,” Roz grumbled. “I’ll do it.”

Kickoff

“Aaaand, the Phoenixes will start off with possession, with Truitt taking the ball forward, now to Madrigal…”

Mirabel tried her best to block out the sound of Phineas Flynn, the ever-bombastic announcer. She knew he meant well, but his commentary always seemed to get her in her head. Mirabel just needed to focus. This was just like any passing drill. Just like practice.

“Madrigal passes back to Sommers on the left wing!”

Just like practice.

90 Days Before the Big Game

Mirabel didn’t really know what she was doing here. She wasn’t a soccer player, that was for sure. These weren’t even her cleats— they were Annie’s, and Annie had much bigger feet than her. Mirabel had to wear two extra pairs of socks just to keep them somewhat on her feet, and she was starting to think they might cut off her circulation.

WHEEEET!

The whistle pierced through the thick August air, and everyone jogged over to center field where Coach was waiting with her clipboard. She was an imposing woman, despite her short stature, in a pantsuit with a faded Phoenixes shirt. Annie had filled Mirabel in— she used to be the school soccer coach in the nineties, but after the team got completely walloped in the semifinals, she announced her retirement for good.

Apparently, she was back. Mirabel didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing. But it didn’t matter much either way, because Mirabel didn’t expect to actually play for her. With any luck, Annie would. But Mirabel was just here for moral support.

“Alright, we’re going to start off with a simple passing drill. Pass and weave, pass and weave, you should all know this by now. Sound good?”

Everyone nodded. Even Mirabel nodded, though she had no idea what “pass and weave” meant. And she was too afraid to ask at this point. Again, she reminded herself. You’re not actually trying to make the team. Just don’t embarrass yourself too badly.

Thankfully, Mirabel was able to meander toward the back of the pack, since there were other girls much more eager to show off their skills. The drill didn’t look too complicated— one player would pass the ball to another, then they would switch places while the receiver passed to a third player. As long as Mirabel followed the other two, she would be alright.

Finally, it was Mirabel’s turn. Pass. Weave. Pass. Weave.

It only occurred to Mirabel by the third rotation that she was… kind of having a blast?

WHEEET!

“Okay, we’re going to try something new,” Coach interrupted. “We’re going to add in defenders.”

05 minutes

Mirabel, Tiana, and Anna didn’t maintain their momentum for long— within a few minutes, the Sharks had possession again, and Triton was charging down the field. Annie approached from her position behind the strikers, chasing Triton down and leaning into her to slide-tackle. Triton went tumbling to the ground, cursing all the way down.

“Bitch,” she muttered.

Annie just smiled and tapped the ball back over to Truitt.

88 Days Before the Big Game

Was that… Mirabel’s name at the top of the roster?

It didn’t make any sense. She’d never played organized soccer in her life; she just tapped a ball around the backyard with her cousins or with Annie now and then. Sure, Mirabel thought she’d actually made it through tryouts decently enough not to embarrass herself, but certainly not well enough to make the team.

Maybe Coach really was crazy. Everyone was saying it at practice.

“No way…” Annie gasped, coming up behind Mirabel.

“I know,” Mirabel agreed. “Has to be a mistake.”

“What? No! You were amazing!” Annie insisted. “I just- well, I can’t believe Aquata Triton didn’t-”

As if on cue, Triton appeared, too, looking furious. She shot Mirabel a fiery look before storming off. Yikes…

Now Mirabel realized the problem. Aquata Triton had been the starting center striker for the past three years at Swynlake High. And now she was cut from the team, and taking her place was…

Oh. Oh shit.

25 minutes

Unfortunately, the Phoenixes didn’t hold onto the ball for long. By the twenty-five minute mark, it was becoming clear that they couldn’t win this game on luck alone. Maybe they wouldn’t win this game at all— although Mirabel was really trying not to let her mind go there.

“At only twenty-five minutes into the game, everyone’s still looking pretty fresh,” Phineas Flynn commented as another Sharks striker tussled with the defense by the corner kick line. “But how long can they keep it up? There’s been a lot of talk about Coach Roz Peterson’s conditioning drills…”

85 Days Before the Big Game

“Alright, everybody listen up,” Coach announced, pacing the sideline as the newly-selected Phoenixes watched from the bleachers. Mirabel sat up straight, hands folded, like this was the first day of class. Some of the more seasoned veterans of the team lounged, skeptical of Peterson’s selection as their leader.

Truitt, the captain, leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her expression entirely inscrutable.

“Odds are, I didn’t choose you because you’re the greatest player at this school. So get that idea out of your head right away, if it’s still in there,” Coach said bluntly. “I chose you because you seemed willing to put in the work. The hard, ugly, unglamorous work of conditioning your bodies and building up your strength. I don’t know if I’m taking this team to the championship. I’m probably not. But what I am hoping to do is set you up for success down the line, in years to come. So you may hate me for this, but just remember, you only get one year with me.”

Truitt’s shoulders betrayed the slightest movement. Was she disappointed that Coach was only sticking around one year? Everyone else seemed skeptical of her, or to think she was an unbelievable hardass.

Mirabel didn’t know how she felt. Scared, maybe.

“Alright, five laps around the field! Everybody go!”

Halftime

Roz glanced over at the Sharks’ bench, just in time to meet Smee’s gaze. Her eyes narrowed. While the players headed off to the locker rooms and doused themselves with water and Gatorade, the two coaches stared one another down.

Then Smee’s expression twisted into a smile, and Roz’s into a scowl. Absolutely not.

65 Days Before the Big Game

“I’m starting to think something is seriously wrong with her,” Annie commented as she and Mirabel approached mile four. “She’s got some kind of obsession with running.”

Today was a “long run,” which was different from the typical running-laps warmup. And it was different from the postgame-punishment-laps (which the Phoenixes had now experienced three times now— even after they’d won that third game. Apparently it wasn’t good enough for Coach Hardass).

“Well, soccer does involve a lot of running,” Mirabel pointed out, snickering. While she didn’t want to badmouth the coach, one look at her expression would tell the whole story. Mutual horror at Coach’s method had bonded Mirabel and Annie far more than anything else that had previously happened in their friendship.

“Y’all want the truth?” The voice came out of nowhere. Mirabel and Annie’s heads whipped around to see the captain behind them.

Their eyes went wide. This was exactly what Mirabel had been trying to avoid. What if word got around? The new girl, who probably didn’t even deserve to be here, already complaining.

“I- we weren’t-” Mirabel stammered.

“It’s fine. I know Coach is crazy. Everyone does,” Tiana said breezily, which caused Mirabel and Annie to exhale cautiously. They didn’t let their guard down entirely, but… was their famously aloof captain actuallty going to be real with them about this? It looked like it. “It’s this weird rivalry she has with the Sharks’ coach. Apparently, they’d been the best in the league back in the nineties, always trading the title back and forth. And then something happened in ‘99. Not sure exactly what. I think someone got hurt, and the Sharks won in a blowout. Coach retired, and the Sharks have basically dominated the league ever since, while our team has been shit. I don’t know if she’s expecting a championship win, but I do know she’s determined not to let ‘99 happen again.”

And then Tiana was off, putting on the jets once again. Annie and Mirabel exchanged a glance. And Mirabel knew they were thinking the same thing.

Coach? Blaming herself?

It didn’t change how scared of Coach Mirabel was. But it did prove she was human.

Mirabel sped up, just a little bit. She could stand to push a little harder. Just a little bit.

48 minutes

“After a scoreless first half, we’re looking at a free kick right in the zone! Looks like this is Triton’s chance— she’s got an excellent scoring record on those.”

Mirabel knew Annie was fuming about that call. The Sharks had come running back onto the field with a vengeance, and only three minutes later Mirabel could count on both hands the number of penalties that should have been called. But it was Annie’s slide tackle that drew the whistle.

Mirabel joined the lineup. On a kick like this, it was all hands on deck, regardless of position…

“Tiwari dives for the ball and… a miss! The Sharks are on the board!”

The Phoenixes groaned as their opponents jumped all over Triton to congratulate her. But there wasn’t much time to mourn the loss of that point. Mirabel could feel Coach’s pensive stare from all the way across the field.

Then she looked in the other direction, where a pretty redhead was siting in the bleachers, giving her a thumbs-up. And that, combined with the righteous frustration with the penalty and the goal, was all Mirabel needed to get going again.

48 Days Before the Big Game

“Oh- my bad,” Mirabel apologized as she ran right into someone coming around the corner. The stack of books the girl had been carrying spilled to the floor, and Mirabel quickly knelt down to help pick them up. You would think weeks of training would make her less of a klutz, but it seemed like all hand-eye coordination completely left her body as soon as she stepped off the field. Or maybe she was just extra distracted today, by the Phoenixes’ seemingly unshakable losing streak.

When Mirabel reached for a book and the girl’s hand brushed hers, Mirabel looked up to see-

Oh. She was quite pretty, wasn’t she?

“I-” Mirabel stuttered.

“Sorry,” the girl said at the same time. They both giggled awkwardly.

Mirabel blushed. “No, no, you’re good,” she said, studying the book. “Gabriel Garcia Marquez?”

“He’s my favorite. The worlds he creates…”

“I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t understand a lot of this book. But I thought the writing was really pretty,” Mirabel admitted, tripping over the word “pretty.” Oh, she was just hopelessly obvious, wasn’t she?

“It is really pretty,” the girl said, holding Mirabel’s gaze. “Sorry, I’m being rude. You’re Mirabel Madrigal, right? The new starter on the soccer team?”

“I- you know me?”

“Not really. But you are kind of famous now. At least around here. Apparently you’re the future of the team.”

The stars of the team, Tiana and all the others who had graduated now, had always felt famous to Mirabel. But she’d assumed that was because she and Annie were the only ones who paid attention to that stuff. Maybe not.

“Wow,” Mirabel said. “Uh, I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your-”

“Giselle,” she replied with a smile.

Giselle. It really did suit her, a name that sounded like singing.

“Nice to meet you, Giselle.” Mirabel held the book out, smiling shyly.

“You can hold onto it,” Giselle said. “I’m sure I’ll run into you again.

And then she left Mirabel standing there, clutching the book to her chest, wondering what had just happened.

Something told her that everything was about to change.

62 minutes

Mirabel tried to steer her mind away from the other person she had thought might be in the crowd. The problem was that he might not, and that was really going to get her in her head. After all, the last time they had spoken, it had turned into a fight…

UMPH

“Aaand Madrigal’s down! That’s gonna leave a mark…” Phineas Flynn commented.

The ground hit Mirabel’s face as a Shark barrelled into her, and now she understood what people meant when they talked about “eating shit.” Well, whoever was watching in the crowd, they’d definitely just seen Mirabel embarrass herself.

But she picked herself up and chased after the ball, like she always did. There was no time to waste.

37 Days Before the Big Game

The Phoenixes hadn’t lost every game. They’d tied the Gryphons and the Firebees, and even beaten the Tigers and the Lions. Granted, the Lions had all of their best players on the bench for that game since it was so early in the season and didn’t mean much. But it was still a win.

And then October happened, and the Phoenixes just. Kept. Losing.

Mirabel was beginning to think it impressive. How could they be that bad?

She didn’t think they were that bad, after all. Tiana was a brilliant playmaker, and Annie was relentlessly quick. Tanya was a decent goalkeeper, too. But it seemed like every time they went out on the field, they made some improbable error, like shooting the ball into their own goal or running right into the referee.

“We’re going to try something new,” Coach said as the Phoenixes stumbled into yet another practice, looking discouraged and exhausted from yet more conditioning. “I want you all to get out there and scrimmage. And don’t try to impress me. I’m not going to be watching. I’ll be in my office. Don’t even keep score. And don’t dictate positions. Pretend you’re eight years old and you don’t understand the rules of soccer.”

And then she was off.

The Phoenixes stared at each other, as though unsure Coach was actually serious about that. But she disappeared into her office, just like she’d said she would. And then the blinds fell down, blocking her view out of the window.

“Alright, you heard her,” Tiana announced. “Scrimmage. No rules.”

Annie looked skeptical. “Shouldn’t we do some drills? Work on our passing?”

“Or our footwork, it was atrocious last season…”

The group descended into squabbling about what the real problem was, and Tiana looked like she was on the verge of giving up. That scared Mirabel. If they didn’t have Tiana taking charge…

“Guys,” Mirabel began, but nobody listened to her. “Guys!” she tried again. “EVERYONE SHUT UP!”

The team froze, and now it was just Mirabel, looking a little bit terrified.

“What?” Tiana asked skeptically.

“Let’s just give it a chance.”

And, strangely, everyone… listened? They nodded and made their way out to the field, and Tiana even patted Mirabel on the shoulder and mouthed, Thank you.

Had Mirabel really just done that? She’d never seen herself as a leader, as someone who took charge. But everything was strange lately. She saw Giselle in the hallways and smiled at her. She got home late from practice and shoveled dinner in her mouth before cramming in as much studying as she could, barely seeing her father. And now, it seemed, she yelled at people at practice.

Mirabel didn’t know what to make of it. But she did know how to lace up her cleats and get back out there.

70 minutes

The pressure was starting to mount. By Mirabel’s estimation, they were more than halfway through the second half of the game. Scoring was a tall order. Scoring twice was a taller order. But Mirabel was trying not to think about that.

Coach always said not to look at the clock. That if you looked while you were ahead, you played cautiously or lazily. And if you looked when you were behind, you got panicked. Just breathe, Mirabel reminded herself.

“Hey,” Annie whispered, jogging over to her as they reset for a throw-in. “Just remember. Like we’re eight.”

And that day at practice came flooding back to Mirabel, the day Coach had abandoned them to play the most chaotic scrimmage they’d ever played. There was offsides and bunching and wildshots that had no chance of making it in the goal. And in the end, they’d all wound up lying on the ground, laughing harder than they’d ever laughed before.

The Phoenixes had won after that practice, and it felt like a new beginning, even though they’d won once or twice before.

The Shark threw the ball in, and Mirabel did something reckless that she rarely did: she leapt for the ball, positioning her forehead right under it, without much regard for where it was going after that. Mirabel trusted Annie to get it. And she did, charging down the field past the Sharks.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the players to catch up, but one of those players was Tiana, and she was deadly in the end zone. When she slipped the ball past the goal line, the world seemed to erupt.

Tied. With… actually, Mirabel had no idea how much time they had left. It was just like being eight years old, playing in the backyard.

25 Days Before the Big Game

“The good news is that we’re in contention for the divisional match, now that the Panthers are out,” Coach explained, crossing the word off of the whiteboard in the locker room. The team watched, laser-focused.

“What’s the bad news?” Annie piped up.

Coach looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well,when people say there’s good news, there’s usually bad news, too.”

“Oh…” Coach said, frown deepening. “Well, the bad news, I suppose, is that you shouldn’t get too excited. Anything can happen at any moment. We can only control the things we can control. Which is practice, practice, practice, and most of all…”

“Conditioning!” everyone groaned.

Coach smiled a rare, mischievous smile. “Now you’re getting it.”

84 Minutes

A single goal stood between the Phoenixes and the divisional title. The Sharks were starting to flag, and Mirabel knew, she just knew, that it would only take one perfect opportunity. She darted back and forth around the goal line, trying to give Tiana an opening to pass her the ball.

But that didn’t happen.

The whistle blew, and an awful shriek pierced the air.

“Truitt is down! Oh, that looked painful…”

Mirabel’s heart dropped, and she tore across the field toward her captain. “Tiana,” she breathed.

Tiana’s face was contorted in agony, and she held her knee tightly. “I’m okay,” she whispered, even though it was obvious that nothing could be further from the truth. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not,” she said. “It’s okay. We’re going to win this. We can do it.”

Coach was already making her way across the field, and Tiana just kept shaking her head. “No,” she mumbled. “I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t. When Coach helped Tiana to her feet, she could barely put weight on the knee she’d injured. She could barely walk, much less run.

“Wait,” Tiana said, pausing to take her captain armband off and holding it out to Mirabel. “Here.”

Mirabel stared at Tiana in shock. The captain armband? But Mirabel was just a rookie, and there were plenty of other talented people on the team! “I can’t-”

“You can,” Tiana said through gritted teeth. “Do it for me.”

14 Days Before the Big Game

One match stood between the Phoenixes and the big game. If they won on Saturday, they were in. And it was all Mirabel could think about. Coach always said to go one day at a time, one practice at a time, one game at a time. To stay focused in the moment.

But all Mirabel could think about was Saturday. And the Saturday that could, maybe, follow.

“Mirabel? Are you even listening to me?”

Mirabel’s eyes snapped up from the plate of spaghetti that she was shoveling into her mouth to meet her dad’s gaze. “Huh?”

He sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

“What?” Mirabel said, confused at his obvious irritation. “What is it?”

“I was saying that I think you’re a little too focused on this soccer thing. I know the plan was to get in shape before track season, but tryouts are coming up, and I haven’t seen you practicing.”

Mirabel’s eyes went wide. It was true. She’d been so focused on soccer that she hadn’t even thought about track. Or when she did think about it, she was thinking about how much more she liked soccer. Mirabel had only ever gotten into track because of her dad— because he’d been a track star, the incredible Montgomery “Lightning” McQueen, before an injury in college had ruined his career before it really got off the ground.

Maybe track wasn’t her dream after all. Maybe it was his.

“Dad…” Mirabel said hesitantly. “I might… want to stick with soccer.”

The hurt registered on Lightning’s face. “What? Since when?”

“Since… well, a while now. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Mirabel said quietly. “Look- if we make it to the divisional game, will you come? Then you can see what I’m talking about. If we don’t, I’ll get right back to training for track. But I really want you to see this.

But Lightning’s expression was inscrutable. “I’ll try,” he said.

89 Minutes

Mirabel had no idea how much time was left. The whistle was going to blow at any moment, she knew. The pressure was on, the crowd was riotous, and time was ticking. Somewhere on the sideline, Tiana and Coach were watching. Out in the bleachers, Mirabel could see Giselle watching, too.

And then she locked eyes with him. Dad, Mirabel thought.

A new energy seemed to infuse her, and Mirabel charged at Aquata Triton, who was racing down the field with the ball. Not so fast, Mirabel smirked at her silently. She pretended to miss a swipe for the ball with her foot, then quickly pulled the ball backward with her cleat just when Aquata had thought she’d won the mini-battle. The momentum did throw Mirabel off her balance, but she only hit the ground once she’d managed to tap the ball back to Annie, who charged forward with it.

The crowd roared. Mirabel picked herself back up, ignoring the dirty look Triton had shot her, and raced after Annie to give her another opening. Annie expertly navigated the defense, practically running circles around them.

The goalie dove too early, and a defender closed in to block Annie from the net. But Mirabel had made it to the penalty line without anyone noticing her, and Annie passed her the ball.

Mirabel closed her eyes. She said a little prayer.

“AND JUST AS THE WHISTLE BLOWS, MADRIGAL GETS THE JOB DONE!” Phineas Flynn announced, and once again, Mirabel was on the ground— but this time, it wasn’t her own doing. Mirabel’s teammates piled on top of her, a loud, sweaty, jubilant tangle of limbs. Mirabel wanted to stay in this moment forever.

2 Days Before the Big Game

“Giselle!” Mirabel jogged over to her in the hallway. “Here’s your book. Finished rereading it. Somehow.”

Giselle turned around, grinning. “I’m surprised you had time, with all the practices.”

“Me too,” Mirabel admitted. “I guess I make time for important stuff.”

“Good to know.” Giselle paused, once hand on the book, just looking at Mirabel. Her eyes seemed to sparkle in the artificial lighting of the hallway. “When’s the big game?”

“Two days.”

“Good luck.” Giselle kissed her on the cheek and walked away, and Mirabel just stood there, dumbfounded once again.

Stoppage Time

The next thirty seconds built up slowly but steadily, pressure building like a firework getting ready to explode. They just had to hold off the Sharks until the whistle blew again, and that knowledge seemed to fuel the team with a new fire. They’d already done the hard work. They couldn’t lose now.

And when the whistle did blow, and Mirabel saw her father jump up off his seat and Coach Peterson throw her clipboard in a rare show of emotion and Tiana burst into tears, the world seemed to move in slow motion. Mirabel’s teammates crowded around her again and hoisted her onto their shoulders as the sun started to dip down, bathing everything in a beautiful golden light.

From her vantage point, Mirabel could see one more person she’d been looking for.

“Okay, okay,” Mirabel chuckled. “Put me down!”

And once her cleats hit the grass, Mirabel managed to get her jelly-legs to run to the bleachers, ignoring her exhaustion. She didn’t have to make it much further than that, because Giselle ran down the steps and kissed her while Mirabel’s teammates whooped.

It wasn’t a championship. There was no trophy. There wasn’t even a medal. But Mirabel didn’t care. She didn’t need a physical memento to remember this moment. She knew she could never forget it.

#this is really not my finest work lmfaooo #it is truly just a parade of sports movie tropes #but you know we got it done #and i always think making myself write something longer than i usually would is a good exercise so im proud of that #swynwrimoemma #swynwrimo2024

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