#also no way how on earth am I still that wet cat of a profile picture to you o: | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

adenil-umano · 4 years ago

Text

12 Days of Spones Day 3: Travel

[Read on AO3]

In a universe where instant travel was always at his fingertips, McCoy knew that sometimes it was the journey that mattered the most. The Enterprise was due for a refit and her crew was granted an extended shore leave. McCoy spent the first day at his family’s ranch in Georgia closing out all his old cases. There were miles of notes to catch up on and by the time he was done the first day of shore leave had turned to night. He padded around the empty house adjusting picture frames and dusting shelves, sipping on an Andorian ale until he was tired enough to fall asleep on the couch.

The next day he spent packing the shuttle car. It was an older model with a low hover height and a top speed of ninety kilometers an hour. The autopilot had been broken for years. He filled the trunk space with his suitcases and datapadds and then went back to the ranch to lock up. When he returned he was surprised to see Spock standing by the shuttle car with a bag over his shoulder.

McCoy blinked. “Spock. Fancy meeting you here.”

Spock had been looking out over the horizon, and he turned as McCoy spoke, his gaze half-lidded and contemplative. “Doctor,” he greeted, and said nothing more.

“What brings you to Georgia?”

“I am not certain.”

McCoy’s interest was piqued. “This is a rare day indeed, if the indomitably brilliant Mr. Spock is admitting he doesn’t know something.”

Spock inclined his head. “I admit I was…curious about the place you call home. I find it is less illogically ordered than I had assumed.”

“It’s a ranch, Spock. They have their own logic.”

“Indeed. It seems to have been quite some time since any animals were raised here. The garden also seems to be in a state of disrepair.”

McCoy followed his gaze to the old garden plot near the house. The only thing that distinguished it was the different kind of grass that had taken root there, and the dilapidated wood fencing that was falling in on itself. “Well, it’ll have to lie fallow a bit longer. I’m not here long enough to fix this place up.”

“You are preparing for a trip?”

“Yeah. One I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.”

“Where will you go?”

“To Alaska.”

Spock blinked. He glanced back at the shuttle car, his brown eyes calculating. “I do not believe this vehicle will last the trip.”

“I spent most of my childhood fixing up this old girl. If I encounter problems I can handle them.”

“The Alcan Highway is notorious for its state of disrepair.”

McCoy shrugged. “Like I said, I’ll handle it. That’s part of the excitement of taking a trip like this, Spock.”

“I see.”

Spock’s gaze was fixed on the shuttle car. McCoy considered him standing there, looking a bit small with just his single bag over his shoulder.

“…What are you doing for shore leave?”

“I had not yet decided.”

“Just wanted to pay your old pal McCoy a visit, hm? Well, get in the damned car.”

Spock tilted his head. “Doctor?”

“You heard me. Get in. For pity’s sake, Spock. You’re like a sad puppy standing there. I can hardly look at you.”

Spock frowned very slightly. “I am not a ‘sad puppy,’ Doctor.”

“Prove it.” McCoy swept his arm towards the car. “Come with me. You can make sure I don’t crash into a tree or get sucked into a pothole. If you get sick of it we can call Starfleet and have them beam you somewhere else.”

Spock hesitated for just a moment, but McCoy knew he had Spock dead to rights. The Vulcan had never been good at taking vacation even at the best of times, and being stuck on Earth probably didn’t sit well with him. After a moment, Spock nodded. He placed his bag in the back seat and climbed into the shuttle car.

It took three tries for McCoy to get the engine to turn over, and he ignored Spock’s look of concern as they lifted unsteadily into the air. The car had always listed to one side. The way McCoy remembered it, it had listed to the left, but the old bird had a prominent limp towards the right today. Either way, he’d handle it.

They took off over the field towards the highway, skimming near the surface of the planet and kicking up dust as they went. McCoy glanced over and saw Spock gripping the handle above the window, and he grinned. A little company was just what he needed.

---

They made good time the first day, and wound up in a little Podunk town near the corner where Tennessee met Missouri. Spock had relaxed after the first hundred kilometers and was now studiously typing in a datapadd. McCoy glanced over at him occasionally, smiling to himself at the sight of Spock with his nose in a book—or some other data—while the world passed by just outside the window. But most McCoy entertained himself by watching the scenery and occasionally flipping through the radio stations. He knew Spock would talk when he was ready.

The shuttle car had fold-down back seats suitable for sleeping on, but McCoy didn’t feel like being that cramped this early in the trip. He booked a room at a motel with a hot tub and spent most of the night making soup of himself and turning wrinkly and pruned while Spock sat nearby, still writing. McCoy flicked a few droplets of water Spock’s way and laughed as Spock scowled like a wet cat. They ate sandwiches in the motel room and McCoy collapsed into bed before nine o’clock.

He awoke once, that first night, just as Spock was turning down the covers of the bed across from him. He watched Spock, dimly lit by the light seeping through the partially curtained window, as he moved about in his Starfleet-issued pajamas. They were black silk, and the pants were just a bit too short for Spock, exposing his ankles and making him look like a lanky teenager who was growing too fast. McCoy snorted to himself and rolled over, falling instantly back to sleep.

The next day they stopped at the St. Louis gateway arch. McCoy wasn’t too impressed, but he perked up when they found an expansive botanical garden. The air was thick and humid, and he made Spock stop to pose for pictures. He captured Spock’s long-suffering frown near a dozen different flowers from all over the world.

They fell into a rhythm. With plenty of time to sight-see, the fact that the shuttle car was less than half as fast as current models didn’t bother McCoy. Spock hardly seemed to notice whether they were stopped or moving; he kept his nose tucked into the datapadd he was working on regardless. They ate at the greasiest spoon dives that McCoy could find for one meal, and then at an upscale restaurant that served single bites on porcelain plates the next. Occasionally, McCoy commented on the scenery during their drive, and Spock always replied dutifully. They picked up an old argument about the logic (or lack thereof) of different systems of classifying living creatures, and then they put the argument down again. Neither was in any hurry to win. McCoy was just arguing because he liked to hear Spock’s voice.

In the evening they would stop wherever was convenient. They stayed at a five-star hotel one night where room service delivered fresh pasta and bread that was still warm to the touch. The next night they spent at a bread and breakfast that woke them precisely at 6:00 a.m. for waffles and strawberries. McCoy growled his annoyance at the early hour and Spock placated him by fetching mug after mug of fresh coffee. They sat at the small table with their elbows touching, listening to their host tell them about all the people that had come through and stayed with her. She’d had folks from Starfleet before, of course, but never anyone from such a prestigious starship.

“Tell me, what’s it like? The only time I’ve ever been off-world was to visit my cousin on Mars for her wedding. I’ve never travelled outside the solar system.”

“At a certain point you forget you're travelling anywhere,” McCoy said. “It’s just you and the crew, and the ship is almost like its own small planet. You forget you’re moving, forget there’s anything else besides those walls and the view.”

He found himself looking at Spock, who was still contemplating their host’s question. After a moment, Spock said, “It is quite mentally stimulating.”

She smiled. “I’ll just bet it is. Is that how you two met?”

“Yeah, we both serve on the Enterprise.”

“It must be hard,” she said, glancing up towards the ceiling as if she could see through it to where the Enterprise orbited above them. “Being away from home.” She smiled. “Well, at least you have each other.”

McCoy didn’t have an answer to that. He busied himself with his waffles, and when Spock’s elbow bumped him he didn’t pull away.

---

They went north far enough to stop at the Crazy Horse Memorial. They stood on the viewing platform side-by-side. McCoy traced Crazy Horse’s bold profile with his eyes, admiring the craftsmanship of his outstretched arm and the braying face of the horse he rode. After, he turned the shuttle car west.

The landscape shifted and changed beneath them. Black hills transitioned suddenly into dry desert. Mountains sprung up occasionally, and then more frequently, and McCoy maneuvered the car slowly around the switchbacks. Spock had put down his datapadd and was gripping tightly to the handle above the window again.

“Sorry,” McCoy muttered.

“It is no matter,” Spock said, but his voice was a bit wavery and he was quite pale.

“If you’re car sick I’ve got a hypo in the back.”

Spock shook his head, but it took only a few more curving switchbacks for him to rise in his seat and turn to reach back for the medkit. His shoulder brushed McCoy’s as he searched, and then he withdrew with hypo in hand. He spun the dial and held it up to McCoy, who nodded at the dosage. Spock injected himself and placed the hypospray in the cup holder, already relaxing in increments.

“Didn’t expect you to be the type to get car sick,” McCoy said, keeping his eyes glued to the road. “I’ve never seen you get space sick, even when we’re being rocked to next Tuesday by some anomaly or another.”

“Normally, we are not close enough to the ground for me to see the horizon,” Spock said. He had leaned back in his seat but hadn’t picked up the datapadd again. “I have gotten sea sick once before while boating on a lake on Andoria. It is not a pleasant experience.”

“Not very logical either?”

“Indeed, no.” Spock’s voice carried a faint hint of exasperation. “It is not logical for my brain to misinterpret my balance.”

“Well, that nausea hypo should help. And not reading for a while. That always used to make me car sick as a kid.”

Spock hummed. “I suppose I shall have to finish my work later.”

“What are you working on anyway? You haven’t looked away from that padd this whole trip.”

Spock was silent. McCoy risked a glance over and found Spock gazing out the window with a faint hint of wistfulness.

“You don’t have to answer,” McCoy said, turning back to the road. “If it’s private.”

“It is not. Not…precisely.” Spock considered for a moment longer. “I would like to tell you. However, I would prefer to wait for our arrival in Fairbanks. Is this acceptable?”

McCoy laughed. “Sure, Spock. Whatever makes you happy.”

“Happiness plays no part—”

“I know, I know.” He reached out blindly and managed to pat Spock’s arm. “I was just teasing you.”

“Very well,” Spock said, sounding miffed.

McCoy managed not to laugh at him too loudly, and drove on.

---

They stopped at the Pacific ocean, because when you drive that far West you might as well go further. McCoy found a sandy beach and hopped out of the car, leaving his boots on the ground. After a moment’s hesitation Spock copied him, slipping off his boots and leaving them propped up straight near McCoy’s haphazard pile. They walked barefoot down the sandy path and stood at the edge of the wave line waiting for the cold water to come to them. When it did, it came faster and further than McCoy had expected, and they had to run to avoid getting drenched, McCoy cackling and Spock with wide, bright eyes. McCoy’s jeans still wound up soaked up to the hip, and Spock’s was wet up to the knee.

Together, they walked along the beach picking up shells. There was a spawning of jellyfish in the sand and Spock regaled him with every known fact about the species as they tiptoed around them and watched the waves roll up and carry their gelatinous bodies away again. When they were done McCoy had a pocket full of smooth shells and there was sand on every inch of his body.

They found a cottage along the coast where they could stay the night and shower off. When McCoy emerged from the shower with a towel around his hips, feeling clean and warm, he found Spock arranging their shells. Spock looked up at him and his gaze was unexpectedly heavy, warming McCoy even further until he felt hot and flushed.

“Shower’s yours,” he said gruffly, moving to pull his pajamas from his suitcase.

Spock rose silently and made his way into the bathroom. When the door closed McCoy ambled over to look at the shells. They were arranged by type, or so it appeared, lined up in neat little rows. But one stood out from the rest. It was shaped differently, very particularly, and McCoy had to scold himself for thinking it was shaped like a heart.

They followed the coastline North to Dawson Creek. They spent a few days there taking short day trips to various locations to hike and admire the scenery. It was strange to be able to hike without worrying about catching an alien disease or falling prey to some alien animal. It had been years since McCoy had been able to hike outside of the context of an away mission. Spock seemed to find it harder to break the habit, and he brought a tricorder on each trip to scan the plants and wildlife, and to map the ground on water where they went.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” McCoy said mildly. He was sitting on a boulder at the edge of a river, watching with amusement as Spock knelt to scan a small cluster of flowers. “I’m fairly certain we’ve discovered every animal on Earth by now.”

Spock paused to consider his words. “One never knows what is left to discover.”

McCoy chuckled. He slid off the boulder and ambled over to Spock, eying the flowers Spock was still scanning. “You really don’t know how to relax, do you?”

“This is relaxing.”

“No, this is work during vacation.” He knelt beside Spock and placed his hand on top of the tricorder, slowly closing it. “You don’t have to scan everything you see, Spock. Sometimes it’s okay to just look and experience it. If you want to look closer…” He reached down and plucked one of the flowers. It was yellow, with a brown seed head and firm, smooth stem. “You can simply pick it up and touch it.”

He held out the flower to Spock. Spock was watching him intently, eyes trained on McCoy’s hands as though he were carrying a fragile bird, or the cure to some disease, and not just a flower. After a moment his gaze flickered upwards and their eyes met, and McCoy was struck by the enormity of the emotion on display in Spock’s eyes. There was turmoil there, a kind of sadness that fluttered under the surface. But, more boldly, there was warmth, and happiness. Spock looked at him like he held the universe in his hands.

Spock accepted the flower. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Of course.” McCoy’s voice was thick.

Had he imagined that look? No, not possible. Not when there were still hints of it in Spock’s sly glances, in the way he cradled the flower like it was the greatest gift he had ever received.

McCoy’s skin itched. “Well,” he said, standing. “That’s enough rest. We should get back to our hike.”

Spock nodded and rose as well. They went into the woods together, and Spock kept the tricorder closed.

---

It became harder to find places to sleep at night. The first day on the Alcan Highway they drove until well after dark to find a town with an open room. The town was hardly more than a few buildings scattered about, and McCoy slept the sleep of the dead, exhausted from such a long drive.

On their second night they couldn’t find a town to rest at no matter how far they drove. McCoy pulled over to the side of the road and flicked on the overhead light, consulting his map. Spock leaned over to look as well, and they came to the same decision together.

“It’s too far,” McCoy said, folding the map and tucking it away. “At least another two hours.”

“It will be well after midnight before we arrive.”

McCoy looked at him. “The back seats fold down,” he suggested mildly. “It’d be cramped, but I don’t think I’m fit to drive much longer.”

Spock inclined his head in silent agreement.

They cleared out the back seat. It was fall; the night air was crisp and a bit cold. Spock folded down the seats while McCoy pulled out his blanket and pillow, seeing now the real problem with this plan.

“I only brought one of each,” he said. “Unless you’ve got one tucked away in your satchel, we’ll have to share.”

“I do not.”

McCoy nodded. “Here, you can have the pillow. The blanket’s pretty big. If I steal it in the night, just…elbow me or something.”

Spock seemed amused, but it was difficult to tell with only stars providing light.

They each turned around while the other slipped into pajamas, giving what privacy they could. With the seats down the space was just big enough for them to line down side-by-side. If McCoy stretched out fully his toes brushed the wall of the trunk. He folded his arm under his head and tried to get comfortable. Spock shuffled around getting comfortable. McCoy could feel the heat radiating off Spock’s body, nice and warm in the cold night. Half-consciously, he shifted a little closer.

“…Doctor,” Spock whispered after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“As you are the primary driver, perhaps you would like the pillow.”

His voice was so low and soothing, McCoy thought. He closed his eyes to better bask in the sound. “No, it’s alright. Wouldn’t want you to get a headache from sleeping wrong. I’ve seen how you act when your head hurts.”

“And I have seen you with a headache.”

He chuckled. “I suppose you’ve got me there.”

There was another pause, a bit longer this time. Just when McCoy thought Spock had dropped the issue, the Vulcan began to shift around again. There was the rustle of fabric against fabric and suddenly Spock’s warmth was a great deal closer. McCoy’s eyes flew open. Now adjusted to the light, he could see Spock’s outline in the starlight. He watched as Spock inched the pillow closer, so that his head was barely on one side, the other side an offering to McCoy.

McCoy gulped. “…You sure?”

“Quite.”

He inched closer. “I snore sometimes, you know.”

Spock sighed, long-suffering. “I am aware. We have shared a room every night for the previous two-and-a-half weeks.”

“It’s just—”

His argument was cut short as Spock’s hand settled on his hip. McCoy snapped his mouth shut, utterly floored by that light touch. Spock wasn’t pulling at him, or really doing much of anything, but the point of contact sparked fire beneath McCoy’s skin. He swallowed thickly and let his body do what it wanted, which was to fall against Spock.

They curled together beneath the blanket, their heads bent towards each other like curved question marks. McCoy didn’t know where to put his hands so he let them fold between their bodies, trying to maintain a faint and pointless distance. Spock’s arm twined around him, his hand resting more firmly against McCoy’s lower back, and his other arm slipped easily under McCoy’s head.

They were cuddling, definitely. It should have felt awkward, but it just felt right. Spock was warm and soft and it was easy for McCoy to bury his face against Spock’s neck and let out a sigh that made Spock shiver. He could smell Spock’s odd Vulcan cologne, a slightly spicy scent. Spock’s hand began to rub against his back soothingly, almost a pet, and McCoy concentrated on that small touch.

Spock soothed him to sleep, and McCoy could think of no better dream than this reality.

---

There were hundreds of bridges along the highway, and they stopped at most of them. Some were small enough to jump over, while others bridged huge gullies that made McCoy experience vertigo. They looked at water, more water than was on the entire surface of Vulcan, mapping all its different forms. At night, even if there was a hotel available, they pulled into whatever parking lot was around instead and folded down the back seat, and McCoy crawled into Spock’s waiting embrace.

They stopped at Delta Junction towards the end of the last day and just stood there, soaking in the beauty of this small, blue planet. Before them were kilometers of rewilded forest. Behind them, mountains jutted up over the horizon. McCoy lifted his head to the sun and felt warm despite the cold breeze.

“Nearly there,” he murmured.

“Yes.”

Spock came to stand beside him. Spock was often standing beside him, McCoy realized. He smiled at Spock, and Spock returned the look with a faint bend at the corner of his lips.

“Haven’t seen you writing in your datapadd in a while,” McCoy said quietly.

“I finished what I intended to write,” Spock said. “At a certain point further edits cease their usefulness.”

“Makes sense.” He turned back to the forest and spread his arms wide. It felt silly, but also perfectly right, to embrace the world in a tiny, human hug. “Oh, Spock,” he breathed. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

“I have not. I believe the word you would use to describe it is ‘majestic.’”

“Too small a word.” McCoy turned and found Spock watching him, and he smiled. “Should we continue on? Fairbanks is just a couple hours away.”

Spock turned somber. “Indeed.”

The last few hours were quieter than the ones that had come before. Spock was in the passenger’s seat with his eyes closed, apparently meditating, and the datapadd on his lap but turned off. Every kilometer they passed something new and beautiful and McCoy felt his breath stolen from him again and again.

It was dark by the time they arrived in Fairbanks, and McCoy startled when Spock’s hand came to rest against his wrist.

“Stop here.”

McCoy pulled over and Spock climbed out of the shuttle car. McCoy followed him down a brick path to a small lookout over the river. Above them, the sky was bright and clear, inky black broken only by the white pinpricks of stars. Spock tipped his head toward the sky.

“This will do,” he declared, turning back to McCoy.

McCoy shifted his feet. “Do for what?”

In answer, Spock handed him the datapadd. Cautiously, McCoy accepted it, uncertain what he would find. He switched it on and read the first paragraph, then had to stop and go back to read it again, unable to process what he was seeing.

There were several pages and he flipped through them slowly, stunned by the prose Spock had spilled onto the page. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised; Spock had always had a way with words, after all. But this was almost…poetic. There was a depth McCoy knew Spock was capable of feeling, but hadn’t known Spock was capable of expressing.

“Spock, this is…”

“When I first arrived in Georgia,” Spock said, turning back to the sky. “I already planned to tell you, but I could not find the words.”

“Spock…”

“When I look at you, Leonard,” Spock said, visibly struggling to voice what he had already written on the page. “I feel…love.”

“Oh, Spock.”

“I look at you and see the future. One where I might be with you, and have you be with me. I would like, very much, to become the person you could find yourself loving.”

“Goddammit.” McCoy swiped at his eyes. “You’re such an idiot.”

Spock looked miffed. “If my confession offends you—”

“No! Just—dammit, c’mere you.” He reached out and took Spock’s hand. “I already love you, you foolish, beautiful Vulcan.”

Spock seemed surprised, and then inordinately pleased. “Indeed?”

“I figured it was pretty obvious, what with the cuddling. But maybe I need to say it in a way you can’t misconstrue. I just spent over three weeks in a car with you and didn’t want to pull my hair out or bite your head off. We’ve battled great evil together. We fight and I…like it, okay? I like you, and I want to be with you in all the mushy romantic ways you wrote here.” He held up the padd. “Honestly, Spock, it’s like you were reading my damned mind about some of this stuff. You weren’t, were you?”

Spock shook his head. He seemed incapable of speech.

McCoy grinned. “Guess it’s just proof we’re good together.” He tightened his grip and tugged Spock closer. “Why wait until Fairbanks to say it?”

“I…was not brave.”

“Not very logical of you.”

“This feeling is not logical,” Spock said seriously. “And it is the only feeling I have ever had which I choose to embrace fully.”

McCoy’s breath caught. “Oh. It’s like that, is it?”

“It is.”

They were standing awfully close now, almost as close as Spock had held him last night, when their legs had tangled together and Spock had run his hand through McCoy’s hair.

“Leonard.”

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“May I kiss you?”

“Hell. Absolutely. Thought you’d never—”

Spock stole the rest of his sentence, and his breath, and McCoy’s knees went weak and he dropped the padd. He fell against Spock and Spock caught him, warm and firm and strong. They had traveled together across the galaxy, and then over a quarter of Earth, but suddenly the entire Universe had narrowed down to two small points of light. As they met beneath the sky all that mattered was each other.

He felt Spock’s hand come up to cup the side of his face, and he tilted to deepen the connection. Spock was sweet and soft, and McCoy felt like he was flying.

When they pulled apart McCoy was dazed, and he didn’t know how much time had passed. Spock traced the bone of his cheek with one calloused thumb, a faint smile on his lips that McCoy yearned to taste.

“Shall we retire for the evening, Leonard?” Spock said softly.

“R-right, absolutely.” He took a step away and then turned back, picking up the dropped datapadd. “Let’s get a real room, though. Cuddling in the backseat of a car is fine, but we aren’t teenagers.”

Spock’s eyes were bright with mirth. “I agree. I would very much like to hold you again tonight.”

“Dammit, Spock,” McCoy whispered. “You can’t just say things like that. Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

“I have some idea.” Spock sidled close as they walked back to the shuttle car together. “For it is the same thing which you do to me.”

McCoy bumped Spock’s shoulder, feeling giddy. It was almost physically painful to separate the few inches necessary to climb back into the shuttle car, but once there Spock reached out and took McCoy’s hand. McCoy held him back tightly, unwilling and unable to hide his expansive grin.

After going all that distance it was less than a kilometer to the final hotel, and only a single flight of stairs to the room. Spock pulled him inside and into a kiss, shutting the door firmly behind them. It may have been the journey that had gotten them here, but McCoy found he quite liked the destination as well.

#12DaysofSpones #spones

31 notes · View notes

sylnyexne · 5 years ago

Text

Blood in Roses 『KTH』

❁ Genre ➢ Supernatural au, romance

❁ Pairing ➢ Taehyung x Reader (feat. Jimin)

❁ Count ➢ 2.5K

❁ Warnings ➢ Forceful acts

❁ Chapter ➢ Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

“Meow”

Having heard the cat’s meowing, I come to my senses and push him away. I realize that I was almost caught up in the mood.

‘What…did I just…’

“Tsk. That was close” muttering the words. Taehyung reproachfully looks at the door. Spade is there. “I’m tired of having too much idle talk but, you’ll be mine no matter what” stating that Taehyung leaves the room.

I feel my knees began to weaken “Too close...” I mutter to myself as a breathed a sigh. Spade shakes his head and walk towards me.

“I told you to be careful with the brothers. You went too far with Taehyung” Spade then sits on the couch “Luckily, I happened to walk by…”

“Thank you very much, I’ll be more careful from now on. Please let me rest for today” I beg for Spade’s pardon, who has started lecturing and go to bed. Rather than sleeping, the thoughts of Taehyung filled my head. I wasn’t supposed to react that way. It feels like as if he casted some spell on me, but at the same time my heart can’t stop pounding just by thinking of it. As time goes by I cast aside those thoughts and finally drifted to sleep.

“Have a nice day!” I finish cleaning a guest room, and move to another one. One more room left. I should finish my work quickly and look for the Rose Garden. It’s been three days since the brothers had my blood. It’s my second say as a hotel maid here, and I’ve been handling my quota smoothly.

“Excuse me, I came to clean your room” I knock on the door few times and try to talk to the guest in the room but there is no reply. Is no one there? “Excuse me, I’m coming in” while calling out the guest, who might be there, I enter the room. “Nobody seems to be here after all… I should get this done quickly. Well, where should I clean first…” I make the bed efficiently, and then clean around the side.

“Oh, what is this?” I find a note written hurriedly. I’m not supposed to read this but I’ve seen it by accident. It’s written,

“Room 405? Nostalis…? ‘Dangerous but maybe useful’ …?” I clearly have no idea what this note about. Maybe I should try to look for the room.

Just when I think that, I hear some noise behind me and turn around. I see a tall figure standing in front of the bathroom, most likely he just got out from there, I see fluffy ears and a tail on his body. I don’t remember seeing those before… I remembered him from the last time we met when I was about to try to open the entrance door. I think that Namjoon called him Mr. Jungkook

“Oh you actually have those ears and tail? I didn’t notice them with your hood on the last time I met you”

“Hm... So, you do have your own mind and will after all”

“My own will? What do you mean?”

“You are not one of those puppet-like workers here. Well…” he paused to straighten his back and continued “I’m Jungkook. I’m a werewolf who is pretending to be a vampire...for a reason”

“You’re pretending? To be a vampire?”

“I’m looking for something in this castle. I want to conceal my identity as a werewolf, so I use this medicine like this…” Jungkook takes out a green bottle that have strange patterns engraved on it. He sprays the liquid from the bottle over himself, and purple mist starts to cover his entire body. When the mist breaks up,

“Oh! They’re gone!”

“This medicine is called the False Mist. I can hide my ears and tail with this. The only drawback is that It loses its effect from getting wet…like taking a bath. You’re human, right? Why on earth are you working here as a maid?”

“I... uh, also am looking for something in this castle”

“I see… Were you with the brothers on your own will?”

“That’s…” I cannot tell him the truth on what’s bragging me all the way here, so kept silent until then he started.

“This is just my hunch, but… They must have a catch. You shouldn’t get closer to them more than necessary”

“It’s very nice of you to worry about me. I’ll keep it secret to the brothers about you as a thank you”

“That would be great” seeing his smile for the first time warms my heart. From the first time I met him, he always puts on an emotionless face, which is hard for me to read his expression.

“Then, I’ll be going now”

“Alright. Thank you for cleaning my room” I wave my hand to Jungkook and leave. I feel that it was the first time I’ve met someone normal here.

On the way back to my room after work, the grouchy Namjoon calls me to stop. He takes me to the manager’s office, and Taehyung is there as well.

“Do you know why we’ve called you here?” Namjoon speaks up.

“I have no idea”

“One of our employees reported us that you were peeping into guest’s bathroom” Wait I wasn’t peeping! And how the hell the employee know about this?

“W-what are you talking about? Why would I do that?” saying that, I remembered that I saw Jungkook right after he just taken a bath . Did someone see us? But there’s nobody else is there beside me and him.

“…The guest was indeed just after taking a bath, but I swear that I didn’t peep”

“Well, the guest also denied the fact” I’m relieved from Namjoon’s words.

“I don’t know who told you that, but it was just a mistake of his or hers”

“The thing is that you acted to mislead him or her” Taehyung, who had kept quiet the whole time, finally speaks solemnly. “Don’t you think, you need to be punished for your mischief?” His tone is suddenly got deeper.

“P-punished…?” a chill runs down my spine as I look at him grinning mischievously. “What are you talking about—” Taehyung grabs me by the wrist as I struggle to push him off “How could I let you go?” he smirked.

“Don’t be too hard on her Taehyung” Namjoon warns Taehyung, but it doesn’t stop him.

“This way, walk faster” by being dragged by him, my legs can’t keep up with how fast he walk but i still try to keep up to his pace. I notice that his eyes are slowly being tinged crimson. I have only bad memories about those red eyes. Where is he taking me to… I want to run away, but Taehyung’s grip is too strong that I can’t shake it off.

“Good girl. Just shut up and come with me” Taehyung finally stops at—

“Oh, no...” The Dungeon

I can’t help but remember the last time when the vampires had my blood.

“Stop…please, Taehyung…”

“Hm.. I’m sick of the same plea. But at the same time I love it” though speaking in disgust at first, Taehyung seems to enjoy the situation.

“But since you seem to have such high expectations, I have no choice but to do it. You want it don’t you? Now, all you have to do is just say the words, with your pretty little mouth”

“I—I’m not expecting anything!”

“Is that so?” he grins “I don’t believe you…” Taehyung pushes my body towards the center of the jail.

Taehyung starts to bury his face on my neck as I flop down on the ground “Tae— Taehyung! Stop...please!” He starts by licking and kissing my neck forcefully.

“Mmh... yes... your blood is rushing really quickly through—” he tilt my head to the side and press his thumb on my jugular vein “Here...” I close my eyes in fear as he buries his face on my neck yet again.

As soon as I feel something sharp touch at neck, pain runs through my body. My blood… I twist my body frantically trying to avoid Taehyung’s attack, but he doesn’t seem to care about my resistance.

“I could have never expected you would steal a march on me…”

Jimin…? I look in the direction where the voice came from to see Jimin with a displeased look.

“Tsk, I’m just educating an employee. It’s not what you think”

“Hmm…”

Wiping my blood on his lips, Taehyung glares at Jimin. I try to stand up, but my legs feel so weak and they waggle. While seeing them glaring at each other in the corner of my eyes, I eventually lose consciousness.

When I come back to my senses, I’m lying in my bed. Feeling the sting on my neck, I remembered what happen last time. He bit me again… I’m still half-conscious and I can’t think of anything. When I close my half-opened eyes again, white fogs starts to spread in my head.

I remember this garden…

A man is lying on the ground and a woman is talking to the man. This is the…kiss scene of me and Taehyung I saw a while ago in my vision… I could only see the scene from a distance, but it is a bit closer this time.

Taehyung…

Taehyung is lying on the ground and doesn’t look lively. “Taehyung…” my cheeks bedewed with tears, I call his name to wake him up.

Responding to my desperate call, Taehyung opens his eyes. I can’t hear the words they exchange. Just when his and my lips meet, my vision turns into darkness.

I slowly open my eyes and raise myself up after making sure my head is not spinning anymore. I’m so tired now from many things happening all at once but I don’t feel like going back to bed either. “Maybe I should take a walk inside the castle for a change…” it’s been three days already since I arrived here. It’s about time that I went looking for the Rose Garden. I open the door without making noise, and walk out to the hallway.

Where is that Rose Garden…? I thought as I walk down the hallway. I have only one clue right now. That time Taehyung said…

‘“The Rose Garden has its own will. It will only show itself to who it wants to. You won’t be able to see it so easily”’

I have no idea what I should do to make it appear in front of me. The only thing I can try now is to check every room one by one.

As I walk further in the quiet hallway, I stop in front of a room that catches my eyes. “What is this room…” I open the door and it reveal a massive room filled with racks of books. “So many books here…” looking around into the room, I feel someone’s presence.

“Jimin…?” I slowly close in on the familiar back shot.

Taking a peep at his profile through a bookshelf, I find him looking so happy. I think I’d better not to interrupt him. I decide to look around the library hiding my presence.

“How rude” suddenly I felt presence behind my back. I knew it was Jimin…

“…Huh?”

“How dare you leave me without saying anything? I think it is quiet rude of you to do that towards me” I turn around to face Jimin standing closely in front of me.

“I—I’m so sorry! You were reading a book so happily, and I didn’t want to disturb you” I bowed my head. After a moment of silence a faint chuckle comes from Jimin.

“You are so kind,____” he pulls me by the hand and pushes me against a nearby desk.

“W—what are you doing?”

“What am I doing? You should’ve known that already…” saying those words, he pulls me closer and about to nuzzle his face on my neck but then he stops and kiss my jaw instead.

“You’ve got more marks” his voice is in a serious tone.

“Why? Why…are you obsessed with me so much?” I continued. Please… I don’t want to get my blood sucked any more. With that in mind, I ask Jimin the question in wonder.

“So… it seems that Taehyung hasn’t told you yet” he continue “Would you love me if I answer your question?” he then nuzzles his head on my neck.

“Love you…?” why does it turn out like this? This is just so strange. They have forced me to say “I love you” from the beginning.

“I—I uh…I’m…” why can’t I say anything!?

“You don’t have to force yourself. What’s more important now is…” Jimin’s eyes take an upward glance at me with his face still buried in my neck. His eyes…its bloody crimson red.

“Isn’t it unfair that you offer your blood only to Taehyung?” Jimin stares at the bite marks on my neck. His fangs peek out from behind his lips. I tried to push but he’s so strong that I can’t push him away. When I close my eyes to prepare for the pain—

“STOP IT!” someone shouted.

I open my eyes to the voice echoing through the room. Jimin has been pulled apart from me, and is glaring at Taehyung reproachfully.

“Taehyung…”

“Tsk, your expression changed the second he came in” Jimin scoffs

“What do you mean my expression changed?”

“You look so much happier now, at least not as tense as when you were with me. I can’t help but be jealous of him” he giggles.

“Of course! He doesn’t do anything like you do” I snapped at Jimin

“Anything like I do?”

“I’m talking about your scurvy way of trying to get my blood in exchange for the information I need to know” I glance at Taehyung who’s standing still coldly while watching us.

“Well…I have to agree on that. Taehyung wouldn’t do such thing.”

“You seem to know Taehyung very well” he continued. “Why don’t you try to know me better instead?” again Jimin closes in on me. Taehyung silently thrust himself between Jimin and me.

“Stop messing around would’ya” Taehyung raises his voice towards Jimin

“Hm? Why can’t I be with her too?”

“She’s mine. Now, come with me little girl” Glaring at Jimin, Taehyung takes me by the hand and walks away.

“H-hey, Taehyung! Where are we going?” he didn’t answer my question. “My hand hurts… please let go” I leave the library with the lead of Taehyung, who remains silent all the way through. Jimin doesn’t seem to come after us.

“Ah!”

As soon as we enter his room, Taehyung pushes me down on the bed. He stands on his knees over my body and looks down on me.

“Taehyung…i-is something wrong?”

“Why am I so irritated!? It’s so strange” Taehyung seems to be bewildered by his own feelings.

“Just the fact that you were with Jimin…that makes me…”

Looking at him in emotional pain, I decided to speak up.

“Do...you have feelings for me, Taehyung?”

#taehyung #taehyung vampire au #jimin #jimin vampire au #bts #bts vampire au #sylnyexne

8 notes · View notes

pajamaplants · 5 years ago

Note

Michael: 1, 3, 4, 7, 11, 12, 14, 16, 19. // Ian: 2, 16, 19. // Charley: 4, 5. // Dahlia: 10, 11. // Rosie: 1, 8. // Bia: 9 (specifically her interactions with Ian before vs. after their breakup). // This is a lot so you don't have to do long descriptions but yeah! Love you lots

sorry for the long post to everyone who isn’t anna, the only one who will know or care about any of these characters......... lol but anyway anna none of these are in the actual book 1 story, it’s all either prequel/flash backs or book 2 stuff (and also i skipped some prompts bc this is already a lot and i want your input, i craaaaave it, love you so much thank you for sending me these and kickstarting a writing mood <3)

Michael

1. Them as a child:

He’d had trouble falling asleep, and now the forest was on fire. Michael had only wanted to go back to the lake shore for a bit, and sit by the waves to settle his racing thoughts, but he’d gotten lost on his way there and wandered down a too dark trail. Narrow flashlight beam the only light a head of him, he prayed he was going the right direction back to his family’s campsite. It was dark and freezing and Michael’s eight year old limbs were getting sore, when suddenly he smelled the thick smoke of burning wood in the breeze. A campfire, he thought. Good, he must be getting close. But as Michael traveled closer a hazy fog surrounded him and the nearby trees, his flashlight beam illuminating the smoke. He saw light ahead, fire glowing through the trees, but no wait, this was much too much flame to be a campfire. Michael stopped walking and watched bright clumps of fire crackling in the underbrush. This is really bad, his tired mind registered. Nervously he tried to move down wind away from the fire, coughing as he went, but the fire grew faster than Michael could walk. He hurried through he underbrush now, chest feeling heavy and head dizzy from inhaling smoke. Suddenly Michael had run himself into a rocky cliff face, the fire sparkling dangerously at his back. What do I do? he panicked. I don’t want to die, please. Michael moved around the rocks until he saw a natural crevice traveling back into the earth. Was that a cave? Fire could burn wood, he reasoned. But probably not stone. He crawled in between the rocks, shining his flashlight as he entered to check it was uninhabited, and saw it went back a few feet. The air in here was clear of smoke and much easier to breathe. Crouching in a small cave wasn’t ideal, but it was better than burning to death. Outside Michael saw the wildfire grow in intensity slowly. As it crawled along bark and dry leaves, a soothing crackling noise came from the charred forest. Tucked safely in his cave, Michael watched, cinders in the air reflecting on spellbound eyes. The blaze passed him by and devoured entire trees, cracking apart branches. Somehow now Michael felt less afraid; the air was warm, the fire’s glow bathing the opening of the cave in a lulling orange gleam. Eventually, Michael fell asleep lying curled in place on the rocks, the wildfire’s presence helping him find sleep better in a cave than back in a sleeping bag in a dark tent. In the morning he awoke, crawled out into the ashy remains damp with smoke, and traveled by the morning light through the destroyed forest until he found a path back to his family.

3. Their parent(s) (ok listen, this post is long enough, i going to just split all the ones i didn’t do here in another part 2 post later okay? so i’ll do this one later)

4. Their laugh: (and i’ll do this one later )

7. Their interactions with their pets, if they have them:

Every night his cat played a game with Josh, a one in which Josh always ended up losing as yet again Cannelle settled innocently on Josh’s chest or kneaded her way to resting on his legs and he felt too bad to disturb her. “Well, once she’s comfortable, what am I supposed to do?” Josh told him once. Now in bed trying to fall asleep, Michael rolled over, and with a lurch his heart beat rose sharply in distress, realizing there was his cat, lying in the same space as his space. The left side of the bed, that had once been Josh’s. The left side that Michael still some how always managed to sleep to the right of, despite the bed being his alone now. Michael pulled his blankets up. “Cannelle, c’mere, c’mon girl.” he called. He’s not there, I’m so sorry, and you can’t understand why, I’m sorry. He apologized silently to the cat. She blinked her brown eyes, then rose, tail in the air, and settled down under the tent of the comforter Michael kept open for her. He stoked her fur for something, anything, to latch on to other than the buzzing ache that settled into his muscles. The first week is the hardest, he’d been told. That’s a lie, he thought. It doesn’t really get easier. Michael counted her exhales, inhales, exhale, inhale, exhales; until his eyes finally closed and he slept.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink):

Michael stepped casually from the elevator, fidgeting hand needing to readjust the fake access badge clipped to his chest. Bia gave it to him, had it forged for him to blend in better, and Michael appreciated the way eyes never stayed on him long. Down the hospital’s long corridor of drywall-white patient rooms he stopped when he found the one he sought, slipping inside. Michael had read this man’s profile. Daniel Keaton, 25, paralyzed from the waist down, the loss of total lower motor control result of a nasty accident. Bia gave him information on a couple of her patients that were in conditions no amount of surgery would help. Understand me, she had said, when she handed him the ID. I’m not letting you do my job for me, since I am more than capable. But not everything has a cure. The man in the bed looked away from a bland television program, saw the hospital staff badge, brown leather jacket, and the lack of any hospital scrubs and asked, “Hi, are you my new counselor? I don’t feel like talking, sorry.” “No, I’m a... physical therapist.” “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re kinda useless at this point. Maybe you’re in the wrong room but I’m past the point of ever using my legs again, the doctors already told me.” ”I know. There’s a method that might bring you some relief, at least. Will you let me try?” “Knock yourself out.” Daniel sighed, closing his downbeat eyes in resignation. Michael carefully helped Daniel into a seated position in the hospital bed and proceeded to gently knead over the dead spinal nerves of his lower back. The accustomed electric warmth pulsed through Michael’s core, seeping up from his bones into the tissue, a faint glow emanating from the flat pressed palms on Daniel’s back. “Wait,” Daniel said suddenly, registering the strange sensation. “What are you doing?” “Don’t worry,” Michael assured. “It’s safe. This will help.” Daniel looked over his shoulder at Michael, slack jawed. “But... I shouldn’t be able to... why can I feel my legs?” Michael sensed his repair work was finished. He backed up a few steps. “Stand up.” “I can’t.” Daniel helplessly shook his head. “Can’t you?” Michael raised an eyebrow. Hesitantly, Daniel pulled his knees up and then gasped. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, devolving into startled tears as he did so. “I-I don’t understand. How? What are you?” “Just a man trying to help.” “What’s your name?” Michael held a finger to his lips. “Lie back in bed, Daniel. When asked, say it was a miracle recovery. You never saw me. Take care.” Before speechless Daniel could utter a question or thank you, Michael left the hospital room.

12. Them in their favorite outfit (i’ll do this one later)

14. Them in an uncomfortable outfit (i’ll do this one later)

16. Them sleepy (i’ll do this one later)

19. Them drunk:

One moment Michael was hiking side by side with Josh on the edge of a hilly forest trail, drunkenly laughing at something, but what he couldn’t remember, Josh had said something funny— when a pile of trail rocks under his feet slid loose and the world hitched violently sideways and down. As if his coordination wasn’t impaired enough by his boozy afternoon at their secluded campsite, all he saw as he tumbled down the leafy slope was green and browns, no sense of up or down. He yelped rolling on his back until he landed face first on something sharp in the creek bed that scorched his lips and face with pain. His hands clamped to his face in shock. Josh shouted something indistinguishably after him, clambering down the side of the ravine a lot more gracefully to the stony creek shore below. Michael covered his left cheek with a large hand, palm pressed to his mouth, and when Josh reached him and moved his hand to see, it came away red. “Tabernac, tabernac, tabernac, Josh cursed under his breath, quickly shedding his coat, stripping away his own t-shirt, and folding it over as a makeshift bandage to the jagged diagonal cut on Michael’s face. Tears welled in Michael’s eyes but Josh was quicker, wiping away the wetness and applying pressure to his stinging split lip. “Look, it was this broken glass right here you fell on. What the fuck is that, someone’s beer bottle?” “Fuckin’ bottle, why’s that there? ‘S not the brand you drink.” “Don’t speak Michel, god you’re sure bleeding a lot,” He paused. “I think we need to go to a hospital.” Michael was preoccupied with the trail of blonde hair traveling up Josh’s naval. He reached out and smoothed his thumb and forefinger down Josh’s naked chest. “You look... good like this.” “Ce n'est pas le moment pour ça!” his boyfriend chided. “Tabernac, you’re lucky that wasn’t your eyes!” “But...” It wasn’t supposed to go like this, they were supposed to be at camp tonight, where Josh would eat those cheap grocery store cherry danishes he liked while Michael would build a good fire for their dinner. Josh gently stood up. “No buts. I know you’re hammered but get up please, you gotta get stitches, there’s no way you couldn’t with a cut that deep,” Michael held Josh’s shirt in place over his copper-tasting mouth and Josh helped him to his feet. “Might even have a scar.” he continued. “Would you, y’still love me if I did?” “Obviously, now c’mon cher, we’ll go back and pack our things and take my bike into Fredericton.”

Ian

2. Them several years past their main adventure: (not gonna do years later, just making this book 2 Ian lmao)

Ian traced wandering lines in his sketchbook, taking his restless energy and channeling it into activity, distraction; one of the little tricks gained in the rehab center. Sobriety had been a bitch to learn, and often Ian flexed a muscle of self control he’s carefully crafted to hold him steady. Temptation tickled the back of his neck in his most stressful moments, and the times Michael left him alone for too long. And Michael, the man who took him to rehab, who brought art supplies to his room at the clinic For something nice to do, he had said. Ian had never loved a set of pencils so dearly. Michael had visited daily, talked with him about his therapy as he sat still in his chair and let Ian draw him. Ian never took Michael’s presence for granted, it was familiar and warm, a stark contrast to the first night they met. Time does strange things to people, Ian decided. But... Ian had to appreciate the change. Michael managed his medicines for him, took care of him with every meal he made for the two of them, and he made Ian laugh even in a dark moment of handling some sticky Orion business. Gradually he’d become his foothold in sobriety, his anchor point. His Michael. Ian shook the idea away. No, Michael’s not mine to have, Ian thought. Michael surely didn’t get the pesky flashes of impossible possibilities like the kind that plagued Ian’s headspace lately, of... more. He disdainfully flipped to a new page in his sketchbook, landed on a page of Michael sketches he’d drawn secretly and quickly ignored them by flipping to a fresh sheet. Ian settled back in his chair, and argued back and forth silently until he’d convinced himself Michael was his friend, his partner in literal crime, and that was enough. That had to be enough.

16. Them sleepy:

Michael returned home in the early morning, only to discover his bed was occupied. Ian was in boxers and nothing else, sound asleep. His partner’s limbs were bent up among his blankets, mouth puffing open slightly whenever he breathed out. Used to seeing Ian sleep in odd positions on the couch, Michael knew the way he tucked his arms under himself in his sleep. But it was strange to see him in here. How often did he come in here, even when Michael was awake? Michael stood silent by the bedside and watched Ian snooze peacefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. Did he miss me? This time, instead of dismissing it immediately, Michael let this thought settle. Michael imagined the way Ian must’ve been up waiting for him, maybe even worrying about him, before coming to open his bedroom door. Michael How Ian must have settled his head, nose against the pillow, and arranged the comforter Michael slept with over himself. And then his hand slipped, drifted downward, sinking down into Ian’s hair. Soft and thicker than he imagined, he combed through the wisps of black lightly enough to not disturb him. Missed you, came a hushed sentiment in his mind. Michael swept the bangs that fell messily over Ian’s forehead when his hand grazed across Ian’s temple. There had been times Michael touched Ian before; when injured pieces were in play and Michael stitched up the wounds. The burst of warmth when fingertips brushed Ian’s skin took him by surprise. Ian stirred from this touch however, and Michael’s hand flew to his side. Extending his arms, green swatches fluttered open; Ian stretched his legs and flopped his head on the pillow. “Hi, you’re back,” he mumbled, words languid like the hand that rubbed at his eye, then curled loosely on the sheets. “Hi,” Michael replied, the way Ian looked up at him striking some tender feeling in his throat. “What are you doing in here?” Starting to understand his indications, Michael saw the light flush of embarrassment rise as Ian rolled into sitting. “Did I fall asleep in here? Sorry man, my mistake. Been pretty tired lately,” he explained, kicking away the sheets and getting clumsily out of Michael’s bed. “I had all the lights off and must’ve walked in here instead of my room. Didn’t think twice, my head just hit a pillow.” “S’alright. You looked comfortable.” Michael smoothed his hand over the blanket and Ian’s eyes followed it. “... I was.” Ian shrugged before sheepishly fleeing the room for his own bed.

19. Them drunk:

“Hey, buddy.” A firm hand nudged Ian's shoulder. “Buddy.” The faint sounds of a bar swam to his ears; the clink of glasses against wood, quiet voices agreeing to go home, chairs scraping and the drone of a late night talk show host floating somewhere above him. “C’mon Ian, you need to get out of here.” With a soft sigh that left his chest slowly, he knew where he was. He sat on a stool in his favorite local dive, his body glued to the counter in his usual spot. Graham the bartender, to his credit, waited a full minute before poking Ian in the shoulder. “Mm, can I get one to go?” Ian’s voice came muffled from the crook of his arm. The sticky countertop was a comfortable place to lay his head and he liked the support it gave his loose limbs which currently felt curled up on each other. “No,” the barkeep responded firmly. “And you’re not staying the night… I’ll call you a cab.” Ian’s head popped off the counter, fingers clinging to the glass in his hand. “Don’t have to.” Ian stood, waiting for the lightheaded rush that made his knees wobble to pass before knocking back the dregs of his screwdriver and slipping a few crumpled bills under his glass. “Someone’s coming to get you?” Graham asked. Ian basked in the heat lingering in his throat, he swallowed. “H’yeah, sure.” He waved off the question with a flip of his hand and ambled outside.

Charley

4. Their laugh:

Samuel pulled through the discount rack, casting coat hanger after coat hanger aside flippantly and frowning. “Why’s this all ugly?” she lamented. Charley shrugged, back against the wall, eyes trained on the crummy mall clothes outlet across the way from the display window of theirs. They did this as part of their job sometimes, building profiles. It helped understand daily routines a target had and was the best way to learn potential vulnerabilities. “Oh, now this is good,” Samuel piped up. “I should get these Dahlia for her next birthday.” Charley turned and saw her considering a set of women’s pajamas, with blue penguins printed on the pants and another pudgy penguin on the shirt with a speech bubble saying ‘Out Cold’. Charley took one look at the pajamas and burst out laughing. “Are you fuckin’ kidding?” he snickered, gesturing. “These? With these cute little bastards on them? Are we thinking of the same woman?” He deemed Dahlia maybe a little too serious and brooding. “She could use these, I hate seeing her going to sleep in just whatever outfit she’s got on. She actually would like something goofy like this, she just doesn’t say so.” Samuel held the shirt and flipped flopped the long fleecey sleeve, before then using it to wave to Charley. He chuckled and checked his watch. “You’d know better than anybody, I suppose.” “There’s a lot of things about Dahlia you don’t know.” “Really?” Charley asked interested, hands busy tying long black dreads into a bun at his neck. “Care to share with the class?” Samuel shook her head. “I don’t betray her trust like I promised I wouldn’t betray yours.” Aside from the very first time, he thought. Samuel hadn’t broken her promise to him since. “I respect that,” Charley rolled his shoulders and glanced over into the clothing store opposite the one they stood in. An unassuming young man with green sneakers had just entered it.“Spotted him. Do your thing.” he said to his partner. The two watched him moving around the counter of the neighboring store. “He’s late for work,” Samuel said. “That’s why he’s rushing. He’s nervous his manager might be annoyed with him... here she comes. And he’s very attracted to his boss, he’s thinking about her...” her nose crinkled. “I’m not relaying that.” Samuel watched the manager cross her arms as the man blabbered on. “She thinks he’s nothing but a tiny-dicked idiot. Got him.” she concluded and Charley laughed again.

5. Their crying:

Charley sat across from his partner Samuel at a cafe table in Ireland. His panic had brought them far across the ocean, further than he meant to travel but Charley chalked it up to stress and a need to just run. Their mission to hunt a certain target ended successfully with the target’s death, but included the death of an innocent bystander. Just thinking about it made Charley’s guts coil. He fucked up bad this time, he lost control and a man lost his life because of the mishap. “You’re still learning control over your power, you did not abuse it, the reins slipped from your hands. An accident, Charley. That’s all it was.” He wiped a stubborn tear from the crease of his eye. Samuel’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to be brave in front of me,” she murmured, reading the shame and denial of his emotions from his mind. “I’m not like him.” Charley blinked his chestnut eyes, the sour rise that made his nose tingle bringing more tears as he thought of the man who had turned him this way. His partner saw through him like tissue paper, and she saw the replaying memories; the way his face had looked, the reason he hated to let anyone see him cry, and the way that the innocent man had been knocked below to his death. He reached for her ivory hand and she took it supportively, politely looking to the far end of the cafe while Charley mopped his brow with a cloth napkin, the older man’s torso shaking with low rumbles and sniffs. A couple other lunch goers nearby looked in their direction a few times, but left them undisturbed. “... We need to see Meissa.” Samuel said finally. Charley wiped his eyes once more looked morosely at his untouched scone. “What do I tell her?” “The truth.” she suggested, wrapping her coat a little closer to her. “I’ll vouch for you, I saw them both die. The other man was not supposed to be there. It’s unfortunate, yes, but we live in the present and must go on.” Charley thought that seemed a bit harsh. “It’s survival,” Samuel added gently. “You had to change to survive and here you sit. I survived the bear trap of my childhood and here I sit. This doesn’t end here,” She retrieved her wallet and left some money on the table. “Ready? We’ll make it through this too.” Charley nodded, took a deep slow breath to collect himself. Then Samuel placed her hands in his on the table and the two vanished from their seats.

Dahlia

10. Their interactions with an enemy/rival

Dahlia kept certain rooms in her house well furnished and comfortable, and others purposefully devoid of distractions. She was leaning against her desk in such a room now, desk and a single bookshelf holding some of her dream journals the only objects beside bare floor and walls, with of course, the projection system. Projected on the walls all around her was a calming cloudy ocean scene with the horizon stretched before her. She lit a cigarette, smoke curling bright in the projection light. She glanced at her watch. The chair and the man tied to it materialized a half second later. Dahlia didn’t bat an eye. Charley stood behind the chair, palms flat on the grizzled older man’s shoulders. “I appreciate the trouble,” said Dahlia. “I know you could’ve handled him alone.” “No trouble, and thank Sammy, she lured his greasy ass into the motel room. In fact, thank her yourself.” He disappeared and within five seconds he reappeared, this time hand in hand with Samuel. Her peacock blue heels clicked on the hardwood as she moved concentric circles around the man in the chair. “Still out cold, I’m impressed Charley-boy.” “Pleasure, I’ve been practicing my right hook. It’s nice to test it out on this freak. A five year old kid, that’s sick.” he shook his head. ”Good work both of you,” Dahlia hummed approvingly. “Now we wait.” “Mind if I bounce?” Charley asked. “Gotta teach my class in an hour.” “Go right ahead. Just be back here after for disposal.” Charley nodded and vanished. Dahlia coolly regarded the unconscious man, puffing on her cigarette, lost in thought. Samuel silently watched Dahlia thinking. Samuel became a usual presence to Dahlia in this way, like a friend sitting beside her on a windowsill, simultaneously looking out the same window as herself, seeing the same vivid world outside. At last, the large man stirred, opened his bleary eyes. “The hell?” he groaned, then his eyes fell on Dahlia, then Samuel. “Who are you people? Where the fuck did you take me, you pasty bitch?” Dahlia didn’t waste time. “Mr. Clark, you don’t know me and I certainly don’t care to know you, but I do know what you did to the five year old son of your next door neighbors.” The man tried to wiggle out of his restraints. “You’re crazy, I don’t know what you’re talking about, let me fucking go!” “Take a look around Mr. Clark, this is the last room you’ll ever see.” “What?” he froze mid struggle and stared at Dahlia, who tapped her cigarette calmly in a porcelain teacup on the table. He looked to Samuel whose pallid eyes pierced daggers in his direction. “You’re not serious... I’m not scared of some dumb bitches.” “He’s lying.” Samuel contributed. “Choosing to pursue that particular disgusting fantasy of yours was the wrong choice.” Dahlia said, then extended her arm into the blue projection light and Samuel handed her a bottle of liquor from a shelf. Dahlia uncapped it and poured amber liquid into a large glass. “What are you doing?” Mr. Clark clamored as Dahlia approached him with the glass. “I swear I didn’t do it! I never touched the boy!” “It’s tacky to lie,” Samuel commented, watching as the man squirmed in place. Dahlia grabbed him by the hair, yanked his jaw up in the air, and poured the cup down his throat. The liquid spilled over the mans chin and down his shirt as he spluttered and fought, but Dahlia made sure some went down his throat. “How does it feel to be robbed of your agency?” Dahlia asked, stepping back. “I want you to meditate on that while the darkness comes. To feel like– what was his name?” she asked the man. “Evan Watson.” Samuel supplied when the man kept quiet. “Yes, like Evan when you raped him.” The man coughed out a sting of curses at Samuel and Dahlia, but the words quickly subsided until both the room and the man were still. Dahlia shuddered and turned away. “You know I like to stay distant and trust you and Charley and the others to handle this part,” she said to Samuel. “But I hated the dreams I saw. The ones with kids are the worst.” “You don’t need to explain to me, I’ve seen the way it hurts.” “Right.” Her friend’s view into her mind let Samuel understand best, but that didn’t stop Dahlia from wanting to explain things to her anyway. I appreciate you Sam, she thought. In all the ways you help me stop these people. I’d be lost without you. Samuel smiled her pearly teeth at Dahlia and Dahlia wished then that she could also see into Samuel’s innermost thoughts.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink)

Dahlia was an early riser, and like clockwork every morning she went to her chair on the front porch and smoked under the morning sun. But this spring morning she waited to receive her brother visiting for Passover, and this morning’s cigarette was interrupted by the arrival of Michael and his boyfriend Josh with suitcases in tow. She ran down the steps to hug her brother, and then shook Josh’s hand, thinking he somehow wasn’t what she was expecting. Not that she had any big expectations but she wanted only the best for her brother. She thought he was ordinary but handsome, with a wide friendly smile, crooked at the edges. He looked eager but nervous as Dahlia introduced herself. “So you’re the mysterious Canadian man my brother’s been dating huh? Good to finally meet you. I hope you’ve been keeping him out of trouble.” Josh laughed, a bright pleasant sound. “I’m studying criminal justice actually, if anyone will be keeping him on the straight and narrow it’s me.” His accent was noticeable and musical, and Dahlia saw Michael’s eyes shining as he glanced over at Josh. Her brother looked proud and happy she realized, happier and younger looking than when she’d last seen him. “Good, well we have some lovely matzo brei mom made on the stove, you’re welcome to it for breakfast.” “Thank god, I’m starving,” said Josh. “We left too early to have breakfast and nothing at the airport sounded good.” Josh left to go bring their luggage inside, and Michael stayed out on the porch with his sister. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.” Dahlia remarked. “What makes you say that?” Michael wondered. Dahlia offered him her cigarette and he took it. “You’ve got a love glow about you.” “I do not have a ‘love glow’,” he grumbled, blowing smoke through his nose. She laughed and took the cigarette back. “No, but seriously, you look really happy with him, not like with anyone else before. Seems like the real deal.” “Maybe. I hope so. I want mom and dad to like him.” He’s serious with this guy, Dahlia mused. Her brother caring about his parents opinions? That was a first. “I’m happy you’re home, Mike. And I wouldn’t worry about what mom thinks at least,” she said, peering into the doorway. “Look at her, she’s already fussing over him in there getting him enough on his plate.” Michael chuckled. “Better get in there and rescue him before he’s overfed.”

Rosie

1. Them as a child (i’ll do this one later)

8. Their interactions with their significant other(s), if they have them (the significant other is outta the picture, so you get Rosie and her daughter instead)

Bia clinked her raspberry gin lemonade against her mother’s glass. They sat in a private VIP room at the King’s Throne, celebrating Bia’s acceptance into one of the top medical schools in the country. Rosanne frequented this particular night club for abundance of potential customers and good relations with the owner. They were on their second round of drinks. “To the start of your career! This is all for you sweetie, enjoy yourself.” Rosanne toasted her glass and took a long sip. Bia followed suit. “Honey, I want you to know I’m proud of you.” “Thanks mom.” “I’ve been proud since the first time I held you crying in my arms.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Bia felt a lump rise in her throat. "Even if... I turned out differently than you expected?” Rosanne set down her amaretto sour. “You’ve surprised me a lot as you’ve grown,” she started. “But never negatively. Never wanted you to work in my trade, and you surprised me by never wanting to follow in my footsteps, by picking medical school and gettin’ accepted. I’ve watched a little boy grow into a wonderful, resourceful, fucking intelligent, brave and beautiful woman. Nothing could make me prouder.” Happy tears dripped down over Bia’s expensive make up but she didn’t care. Her mother pulled her into a hug and Bia let her mascara disintegrate.

Bia

9. Their interactions with their best friend

“Your quiet magical friend told me you were here in rehab. I’m really proud of you for being here Ian.” Bia sat beside him on the edge of his bed in his room at the inpatient rehab center. She looked much healthier now, but a different version of the woman he’d known once, before Phil Lancaster had ever touched her. “Thank you Bia, and you haven’t told anyone else about what Michael can do, have you?” “No, you made me swear.” “Okay, cool.” “But listen I... I’m not the reason you’re in here now, am I?” “What do you mean?” Bia shifted her shoes on the carpet and smoothed her hair. “Well, you and me were trying different shit a lot when we were together and I’d feel terrible if I–” “No,” Ian interrupted. “Trust me, you’re not the reason I’m here. I was an addict before I met you.” Bia sighed, still looking concerned. “Okay, just wanted to apologize for ever turning you onto it.” His time dating her had been comfortable and some brief, needed stability. They spent it trying drugs and having sex, but Ian’s favorite memories had been the late hours of the night when they lay beside each other and she shared stories; these including tales of her life as a surgeon and her wild experience of growing up with a drug mogul mother like Rosanne Madaki. “I’m the one couldn’t stop Bia, and you never forced me. You were one of the few things keeping my head above the water. Taking Xanax was my own choice and so is quitting it.” She smiled meekly. “That’s the spirit.” “So, how have you been recently?” “In constant therapy for... y’know, what he did. There’s no better relief than waking up in my mother’s house and remembering he’s dead and will never be anything but dead. Mom’s barely let me out of her sight, and when she does she has one of her bodyguards tail me around, she thinks I don’t notice.” “She loves you.” “I know, she just blames herself for everything still.” “We’ve all got our struggles,” Ian said patting her arm. “We’ll try and get better together, okay?” Bia nodded and smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

sorry for the long post to everyone who isn’t anna, the only one who will know or care about any of these characters……… lol but anyway anna none of these are in the actual book 1 story, it’s all either prequel/flash backs or book 2 stuff (and also i skipped some prompts bc this is already a lot and i want your input, i craaaaave it, love you so much thank you for sending me these and kickstarting a writing mood <3)

Michael

1. Them as a child:

3. Their parent(s) (ok listen, this post is long enough, i going to just split all the ones i didn’t do here in another part 2 post later okay? so i’ll do this one later)

4. Their laugh: (and i’ll do this one later )

7. Their interactions with their pets, if they have them:

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink):

Michael stepped casually from the elevator, fidgeting hand needing to readjust the fake access badge clipped to his chest. Bia gave it to him, had it forged for him to blend in better, and Michael appreciated the way eyes never stayed on him long. Down the hospital’s long corridor of drywall-white patient rooms he stopped when he found the one he sought, slipping inside. Michael had read this man’s profile. Daniel Keaton, 25, paralyzed from the waist down, the loss of total lower motor control result of a nasty accident. Bia gave him information on a couple of her patients that were in conditions no amount of surgery would help. Understand me, she had said, when she handed him the ID. I’m not letting you do my job for me, since I am more than capable. But not everything has a cure. The man in the bed looked away from a bland television program, saw the hospital staff badge, brown leather jacket, and the lack of any hospital scrubs and asked, “Hi, are you my new counselor? I don’t feel like talking, sorry.” “No, I’m a… physical therapist.” “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re kinda useless at this point. Maybe you’re in the wrong room but I’m past the point of ever using my legs again, the doctors already told me.” ”I know. There’s a method that might bring you some relief, at least. Will you let me try?” “Knock yourself out.” Daniel sighed, closing his downbeat eyes in resignation. Michael carefully helped Daniel into a seated position in the hospital bed and proceeded to gently knead over the dead spinal nerves of his lower back. The accustomed electric warmth pulsed through Michael’s core, seeping up from his bones into the tissue, a faint glow emanating from the flat pressed palms on Daniel’s back. “Wait,” Daniel said suddenly, registering the strange sensation. “What are you doing?” “Don’t worry,” Michael assured. “It’s safe. This will help.” Daniel looked over his shoulder at Michael, slack jawed. “But… I shouldn’t be able to… why can I feel my legs?” Michael sensed his repair work was finished. He backed up a few steps. “Stand up.” “I can’t.” Daniel helplessly shook his head. “Can’t you?” Michael raised an eyebrow. Hesitantly, Daniel pulled his knees up and then gasped. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, devolving into startled tears as he did so. “I-I don’t understand. How? What are you?” “Just a man trying to help.” “What’s your name?” Michael held a finger to his lips. “Lie back in bed, Daniel. When asked, say it was a miracle recovery. You never saw me. Take care.” Before speechless Daniel could utter a question or thank you, Michael left the hospital room.

12. Them in their favorite outfit (i’ll do this one later)

14. Them in an uncomfortable outfit (i’ll do this one later)

16. Them sleepy (i’ll do this one later)

19. Them drunk:

One moment Michael was hiking side by side with Josh on the edge of a hilly forest trail, drunkenly laughing at something, but what he couldn’t remember, Josh had said something funny— when a pile of trail rocks under his feet slid loose and the world hitched violently sideways and down. As if his coordination wasn’t impaired enough by his boozy afternoon at their secluded campsite, all he saw as he tumbled down the leafy slope was green and browns, no sense of up or down. He yelped rolling on his back until he landed face first on something sharp in the creek bed that scorched his lips and face with pain. His hands clamped to his face in shock. Josh shouted something indistinguishably after him, clambering down the side of the ravine a lot more gracefully to the stony creek shore below. Michael covered his left cheek with a large hand, palm pressed to his mouth, and when Josh reached him and moved his hand to see, it came away red. “Tabernac, tabernac, tabernac,” Josh cursed under his breath, quickly shedding his coat, stripping away his own t-shirt, and folding it over as a makeshift bandage to the jagged diagonal cut on Michael’s face. Tears welled in Michael’s eyes but Josh was quicker, wiping away the wetness and applying pressure to his stinging split lip. “Look, it was this broken glass right here you fell on. What the fuck is that, someone’s beer bottle?” “Fuckin’ bottle, why’s that there? ‘S not the brand you drink.” “Don’t speak Michel, god you’re sure bleeding a lot,” He paused. “I think we need to go to a hospital.” Michael was preoccupied with the trail of blonde hair traveling up Josh’s naval. He reached out and smoothed his thumb and forefinger down Josh’s naked chest. “You look… good like this.” “Ce n'est pas le moment pour ça!” his boyfriend chided. “Tabernac, you’re lucky that wasn’t your eyes!” “But…” It wasn’t supposed to go like this, they were supposed to be at camp tonight, where Josh would eat those cheap grocery store cherry danishes he liked while Michael would build a good fire for their dinner. Josh gently stood up. “No buts. I know you’re hammered but get up please, you gotta get stitches, there’s no way you couldn’t with a cut that deep,” Michael held Josh’s shirt in place over his copper-tasting mouth and Josh helped him to his feet. “Might even have a scar.” he continued. “Would you, y’still love me if I did?” “Obviously, now c’mon cher, we’ll go back and pack our things and take my bike into Fredericton.”

Ian

2. Them several years past their main adventure: (not gonna do years later, just making this book 2 Ian lmao)

Ian traced wandering lines in his sketchbook, taking his restless energy and channeling it into activity, distraction; one of the little tricks gained in the rehab center. Sobriety had been a bitch to learn, and often Ian flexed a muscle of self control he’s carefully crafted to hold him steady. Temptation tickled the back of his neck in his most stressful moments, and the times Michael left him alone for too long. And Michael, the man who took him to rehab, who brought art supplies to his room at the clinic For something nice to do, he had said. Ian had never loved a set of pencils so dearly. Michael had visited daily, talked with him about his therapy as he sat still in his chair and let Ian draw him. Ian never took Michael’s presence for granted, it was familiar and warm, a stark contrast to the first night they met. Time does strange things to people, Ian decided. But… Ian had to appreciate the change. Michael managed his medicines for him, took care of him with every meal he made for the two of them, and he made Ian laugh even in a dark moment of handling some sticky Orion business. Gradually he’d become his foothold in sobriety, his anchor point. His Michael. Ian shook the idea away. No, Michael’s not mine to have, Ian thought. Michael surely didn’t get the pesky flashes of impossible possibilities like the kind that plagued Ian’s headspace lately, of… more. He disdainfully flipped to a new page in his sketchbook, landed on a page of Michael sketches he’d drawn secretly and quickly ignored them by flipping to a fresh sheet. Ian settled back in his chair, and argued back and forth silently until he’d convinced himself Michael was his friend, his partner in literal crime, and that was enough. That had to be enough.

16. Them sleepy:

Michael returned home in the early morning, only to discover his bed was occupied. Ian was in boxers and nothing else, sound asleep. His partner’s limbs were bent up among his blankets, mouth puffing open slightly whenever he breathed out. Used to seeing Ian sleep in odd positions on the couch, Michael knew the way he tucked his arms under himself in his sleep. But it was strange to see him in here. How often did he come in here, even when Michael was awake? Michael stood silent by the bedside and watched Ian snooze peacefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. Did he miss me? This time, instead of dismissing it immediately, Michael let this thought settle. Michael imagined the way Ian must’ve been up waiting for him, maybe even worrying about him, before coming to open his bedroom door. Michael How Ian must have settled his head, nose against the pillow, and arranged the comforter Michael slept with over himself. And then his hand slipped, drifted downward, sinking down into Ian’s hair. Soft and thicker than he imagined, he combed through the wisps of black lightly enough to not disturb him. Missed you, came a hushed sentiment in his mind. Michael swept the bangs that fell messily over Ian’s forehead when his hand grazed across Ian’s temple. There had been times Michael touched Ian before; when injured pieces were in play and Michael stitched up the wounds. The burst of warmth when fingertips brushed Ian’s skin took him by surprise. Ian stirred from this touch however, and Michael’s hand flew to his side. Extending his arms, green swatches fluttered open; Ian stretched his legs and flopped his head on the pillow. “Hi, you’re back,” he mumbled, words languid like the hand that rubbed at his eye, then curled loosely on the sheets. “Hi,” Michael replied, the way Ian looked up at him striking some tender feeling in his throat. “What are you doing in here?” Starting to understand his indications, Michael saw the light flush of embarrassment rise as Ian rolled into sitting. “Did I fall asleep in here? Sorry man, my mistake. Been pretty tired lately,” he explained, kicking away the sheets and getting clumsily out of Michael’s bed. “I had all the lights off and must’ve walked in here instead of my room. Didn’t think twice, my head just hit a pillow.” “S’alright. You looked comfortable.” Michael smoothed his hand over the blanket and Ian’s eyes followed it. “… I was.” Ian shrugged before sheepishly fleeing the room for his own bed.

19. Them drunk:

“Hey, buddy.” A firm hand nudged Ian’s shoulder. “Buddy.” The faint sounds of a bar swam to his ears; the clink of glasses against wood, quiet voices agreeing to go home, chairs scraping and the drone of a late night talk show host floating somewhere above him. “C’mon Ian, you need to get out of here.” With a soft sigh that left his chest slowly, he knew where he was. He sat on a stool in his favorite local dive, his body glued to the counter in his usual spot. Graham the bartender, to his credit, waited a full minute before poking Ian in the shoulder. “Mm, can I get one to go?” Ian’s voice came muffled from the crook of his arm. The sticky countertop was a comfortable place to lay his head and he liked the support it gave his loose limbs which currently felt curled up on each other. “No,” the barkeep responded firmly. “And you’re not staying the night… I’ll call you a cab.” Ian’s head popped off the counter, fingers clinging to the glass in his hand. “Don’t have to.” Ian stood, waiting for the lightheaded rush that made his knees wobble to pass before knocking back the dregs of his screwdriver and slipping a few crumpled bills under his glass. “Someone’s coming to get you?” Graham asked. Ian basked in the heat lingering in his throat, he swallowed. “H’yeah, sure.” He waved off the question with a flip of his hand and ambled outside.

Charley

4. Their laugh:

Samuel pulled through the discount rack, casting coat hanger after coat hanger aside flippantly and frowning. “Why’s this all ugly?” she lamented. Charley shrugged, back against the wall, eyes trained on the crummy mall clothes outlet across the way from the display window of theirs. They did this as part of their job sometimes, building profiles. It helped understand daily routines a target had and was the best way to learn potential vulnerabilities. “Oh, now this is good,” Samuel piped up. “I should get these Dahlia for her next birthday.” Charley turned and saw her considering a set of women’s pajamas, with blue penguins printed on the pants and another pudgy penguin on the shirt with a speech bubble saying ‘Out Cold’. Charley took one look at the pajamas and burst out laughing. “Are you fuckin’ kidding?” he snickered, gesturing. “These? With these cute little bastards on them? Are we thinking of the same woman?” He deemed Dahlia maybe a little too serious and brooding. “She could use these, I hate seeing her going to sleep in just whatever outfit she’s got on. She actually would like something goofy like this, she just doesn’t say so.” Samuel held the shirt and flipped flopped the long fleecey sleeve, before then using it to wave to Charley. He chuckled and checked his watch. “You’d know better than anybody, I suppose.” “There’s a lot of things about Dahlia you don’t know.” “Really?” Charley asked interested, hands busy tying long black dreads into a bun at his neck. “Care to share with the class?” Samuel shook her head. “I don’t betray her trust like I promised I wouldn’t betray yours.” Aside from the very first time, he thought. Samuel hadn’t broken her promise to him since. “I respect that,” Charley rolled his shoulders and glanced over into the clothing store opposite the one they stood in. An unassuming young man with green sneakers had just entered it.“Spotted him. Do your thing.” he said to his partner. The two watched him moving around the counter of the neighboring store. “He’s late for work,” Samuel said. “That’s why he’s rushing. He’s nervous his manager might be annoyed with him… here she comes. And he’s very attracted to his boss, he’s thinking about her…” her nose crinkled. “I’m not relaying that.” Samuel watched the manager cross her arms as the man blabbered on. “She thinks he’s nothing but a tiny-dicked idiot. Got him.” she concluded and Charley laughed again.

5. Their crying:

Charley sat across from his partner Samuel at a cafe table in Ireland. His panic had brought them far across the ocean, further than he meant to travel but Charley chalked it up to stress and a need to just run. Their mission to hunt a certain target ended successfully with the target’s death, but included the death of an innocent bystander. Just thinking about it made Charley’s guts coil. He fucked up bad this time, he lost control and a man lost his life because of the mishap. “You’re still learning control over your power, you did not abuse it, the reins slipped from your hands. An accident, Charley. That’s all it was.” He wiped a stubborn tear from the crease of his eye. Samuel’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to be brave in front of me,” she murmured, reading the shame and denial of his emotions from his mind. “I’m not like him.” Charley blinked his chestnut eyes, the sour rise that made his nose tingle bringing more tears as he thought of the man who had turned him this way. His partner saw through him like tissue paper, and she saw the replaying memories; the way his face had looked, the reason he hated to let anyone see him cry, and the way that the innocent man had been knocked below to his death. He reached for her ivory hand and she took it supportively, politely looking to the far end of the cafe while Charley mopped his brow with a cloth napkin, the older man’s torso shaking with low rumbles and sniffs. A couple other lunch goers nearby looked in their direction a few times, but left them undisturbed. “… We need to see Meissa.” Samuel said finally. Charley wiped his eyes once more looked morosely at his untouched scone. “What do I tell her?” “The truth.” she suggested, wrapping her coat a little closer to her. “I’ll vouch for you, I saw them both die. The other man was not supposed to be there. It’s unfortunate, yes, but we live in the present and must go on.” Charley thought that seemed a bit harsh. “It’s survival,” Samuel added gently. “You had to change to survive and here you sit. I survived the bear trap of my childhood and here I sit. This doesn’t end here,” She retrieved her wallet and left some money on the table. “Ready? We’ll make it through this too.” Charley nodded, took a deep slow breath to collect himself. Then Samuel placed her hands in his on the table and the two vanished from their seats.

Dahlia

10. Their interactions with an enemy/rival

Dahlia kept certain rooms in her house well furnished and comfortable, and others purposefully devoid of distractions. She was leaning against her desk in such a room now, desk and a single bookshelf holding some of her dream journals the only objects beside bare floor and walls, with of course, the projection system. Projected on the walls all around her was a calming cloudy ocean scene with the horizon stretched before her. She lit a cigarette, smoke curling bright in the projection light. She glanced at her watch. The chair and the man tied to it materialized a half second later. Dahlia didn’t bat an eye. Charley stood behind the chair, palms flat on the grizzled older man’s shoulders. “I appreciate the trouble,” said Dahlia. “I know you could’ve handled him alone.” “No trouble, and thank Sammy, she lured his greasy ass into the motel room. In fact, thank her yourself.” He disappeared and within five seconds he reappeared, this time hand in hand with Samuel. Her peacock blue heels clicked on the hardwood as she moved concentric circles around the man in the chair. “Still out cold, I’m impressed Charley-boy.” “Pleasure, I’ve been practicing my right hook. It’s nice to test it out on this freak. A five year old kid, that’s sick.” he shook his head. ”Good work both of you,” Dahlia hummed approvingly. “Now we wait.” “Mind if I bounce?” Charley asked. “Gotta teach my class in an hour.” “Go right ahead. Just be back here after for disposal.” Charley nodded and vanished. Dahlia coolly regarded the unconscious man, puffing on her cigarette, lost in thought. Samuel silently watched Dahlia thinking. Samuel became a usual presence to Dahlia in this way, like a friend sitting beside her on a windowsill, simultaneously looking out the same window as herself, seeing the same vivid world outside. At last, the large man stirred, opened his bleary eyes. “The hell?” he groaned, then his eyes fell on Dahlia, then Samuel. “Who are you people? Where the fuck did you take me, you pasty bitch?” Dahlia didn’t waste time. “Mr. Clark, you don’t know me and I certainly don’t care to know you, but I do know what you did to the five year old son of your next door neighbors.” The man tried to wiggle out of his restraints. “You’re crazy, I don’t know what you’re talking about, let me fucking go!” “Take a look around Mr. Clark, this is the last room you’ll ever see.” “What?” he froze mid struggle and stared at Dahlia, who tapped her cigarette calmly in a porcelain teacup on the table. He looked to Samuel whose pallid eyes pierced daggers in his direction. “You’re not serious… I’m not scared of some dumb bitches.” “He’s lying.” Samuel contributed. “Choosing to pursue that particular disgusting fantasy of yours was the wrong choice.” Dahlia said, then extended her arm into the blue projection light and Samuel handed her a bottle of liquor from a shelf. Dahlia uncapped it and poured amber liquid into a large glass. “What are you doing?” Mr. Clark clamored as Dahlia approached him with the glass. “I swear I didn’t do it! I never touched the boy!” “It’s tacky to lie,” Samuel commented, watching as the man squirmed in place. Dahlia grabbed him by the hair, yanked his jaw up in the air, and poured the cup down his throat. The liquid spilled over the mans chin and down his shirt as he spluttered and fought, but Dahlia made sure some went down his throat. “How does it feel to be robbed of your agency?” Dahlia asked, stepping back. “I want you to meditate on that while the darkness comes. To feel like– what was his name?” she asked the man. “Evan Watson.” Samuel supplied when the man kept quiet. “Yes, like Evan when you raped him.” The man coughed out a sting of curses at Samuel and Dahlia, but the words quickly subsided until both the room and the man were still. Dahlia shuddered and turned away. “You know I like to stay distant and trust you and Charley and the others to handle this part,” she said to Samuel. “But I hated the dreams I saw. The ones with kids are the worst.” “You don’t need to explain to me, I’ve seen the way it hurts.” “Right.” Her friend’s view into her mind let Samuel understand best, but that didn’t stop Dahlia from wanting to explain things to her anyway. I appreciate you Sam, she thought. In all the ways you help me stop these people. I’d be lost without you. Samuel smiled her pearly teeth at Dahlia and Dahlia wished then that she could also see into Samuel’s innermost thoughts.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink)

Rosie

1. Them as a child (i’ll do this one later)

8. Their interactions with their significant other(s), if they have them (the significant other is outta the picture, so you get Rosie and her daughter instead)

Bia clinked her raspberry gin lemonade against her mother’s glass. They sat in a private VIP room at the King’s Throne, celebrating Bia’s acceptance into one of the top medical schools in the country. Rosanne frequented this particular night club for abundance of potential customers and good relations with the owner. They were on their second round of drinks. “To the start of your career! This is all for you sweetie, enjoy yourself.” Rosanne toasted her glass and took a long sip. Bia followed suit. “Honey, I want you to know I’m proud of you.” “Thanks mom.” “I’ve been proud since the first time I held you crying in my arms.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Bia felt a lump rise in her throat. “Even if… I turned out differently than you expected?” Rosanne set down her amaretto sour. “You’ve surprised me a lot as you’ve grown,” she started. “But never negatively. Never wanted you to work in my trade, and you surprised me by never wanting to follow in my footsteps, by picking medical school and gettin’ accepted. I’ve watched a little boy grow into a wonderful, resourceful, fucking intelligent, brave and beautiful woman. Nothing could make me prouder.” Happy tears dripped down over Bia’s expensive make up but she didn’t care. Her mother pulled her into a hug and Bia let her mascara disintegrate.

Bia

9. Their interactions with their best friend

“Your quiet magical friend told me you were here in rehab. I’m really proud of you for being here Ian.” Bia sat beside him on the edge of his bed in his room at the inpatient rehab center. She looked much healthier now, but a different version of the woman he’d known once, before Phil Lancaster had ever touched her. “Thank you Bia, and you haven’t told anyone else about what Michael can do, have you?” “No, you made me swear.” “Okay, cool.” “But listen I… I’m not the reason you’re in here now, am I?” “What do you mean?” Bia shifted her shoes on the carpet and smoothed her hair. “Well, you and me were trying different shit a lot when we were together and I’d feel terrible if I–” “No,” Ian interrupted. “Trust me, you’re not the reason I’m here. I was an addict before I met you.” Bia sighed, still looking concerned. “Okay, just wanted to apologize for ever turning you onto it.” His time dating her had been comfortable and some brief, needed stability. They spent it trying drugs and having sex, but Ian’s favorite memories had been the late hours of the night when they lay beside each other and she shared stories; these including tales of her life as a surgeon and her wild experience of growing up with a drug mogul mother like Rosanne Madaki. “I’m the one couldn’t stop Bia, and you never forced me. You were one of the few things keeping my head above the water. Taking Xanax was my own choice and so is quitting it.” She smiled meekly. “That’s the spirit.” “So, how have you been recently?” “In constant therapy for… y’know, what he did. There’s no better relief than waking up in my mother’s house and remembering he’s dead and will never be anything but dead. Mom’s barely let me out of her sight, and when she does she has one of her bodyguards tail me around, she thinks I don’t notice.” “She loves you.” “I know, she just blames herself for everything still.” “We’ve all got our struggles,” Ian said patting her arm. “We’ll try and get better together, okay?” Bia nodded and smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

1 note · View note

rike-with-love · 6 years ago

Text

Be Mine (chapter 1)

Summary: This is my first fan fiction ever, so please be kind. Umibouzu arrives to Earth and he has some life-changing news for Kagura. COMPLETED!

Pairings: Okikagu

Rating: M for mature content, bad language, violence, angst

Disclaimer: I don't own Gintama or it's characters, Sorachi Hideaki does. I only own this story.

Author’s notes: I have a link to my fanfiction masterlist on my profile. Please check it out for more chapters and fics!

Chapter 1

It was another ordinary day in the Shinsengumi compound. The Sun was shining, birds were singing and mayonnaise bottles were spontaneously exploding. ”Goddammit, Sougo!” Hijikata yelled as he was covered by his beloved life elixir. ”What are you screaming in the middle of my beauty sleep Hijibaka-san?” Sougo mumbled as he lazily shuffled to the kitchen area.

Hijikata was in the middle of collecting the ”holy matter” from his face and uniform. *CLICK* ”Oi brat, did you just take a picture of me?” Hijikata grunted behind his teeth. ”You always think too highly of yourself, who would want a picture of your dumb face,” Sougo said with a mischievous grin on his face. ”Oh, by the way, Hijikata-san, do you want to see my new bazooka the Hijikata Detonator 23XX it also has a camera attached to it, so convenient, don't you think?”

”Die Hijibaka-san!” Sougo yelled as he fired his bazooka, took a nice picture of Hijikata's ”horror face” and blasted a hole in the wall. Poor Hijikata managed to dodge the blast. Kondo ran into the kitchen area and shouted: ”Toshi, Sougo is everything okay?” ”That brat just shot me with a bazooka!” Hijikata growled as he got up from the floor. Sougo looked as deadpanned and innocent as ever. Then he walked through the hole on the wall and decided to go out.

It sure was a pretty ordinary day with all the explosions and screaming. Okita Sougo 1st Division Captain of the Shinsengumi, High Prince (yes, he the ”high” is self-proclaimed) of Sadists was going for an afternoon stroll. ”Get back here, I'll make you commit seppuku damn brat!” Hijikata shouted after him.

”Oi Toushi relax, our son is just having a little temper tantrum.” Kondo soothed Hijikata. ”For the millionth time Kondo-san, he is not OUR son and he is just a lazy homicidal bastard!” Hijikata grunted as he put his hands inside his pockets.

”Ne ne, Toshi, do you think he is going to see that Yorozuya girl?” Kondo asked with a suggestive wink. The demon vice-commander let out a sigh and took out a cigarette. ”It is already quite obvious Kondo-san,” Hijikata concluded as he lit up his mayonnaise lighter. And another explosion was heard at the harmonious Shinsengumi compound.

Sougo was having a rather good day, although Hijikata still got to see another day. I'll get him someday and the vice-commander's position will be mine. Sougo thought to himself and had a nice internal evil laugh (you know muahaha and all that). ”Oh my god! It's Captain Okita!” Sougo tensed up immediately with irritation. ”Not this shit again...” he mumbled.

A group of three young women was rushing towards him. Sougo stood with a deadpan look on his face and turned his back to the group. ”Sougo-sama, do you want to go out with us?” One of the girls asked shyly. Sougo was not interested but decided to indulge with his sadistic nature.

Sougo turned and approached the girl who talked to him. He leaned a bit closer to her face, she held her breath with anticipation. ”Sure, but after that, you must come to my chamber of chains and whips,” Sougo whispers and backs down a step. Two of the other girls gasp in horror, but the third girl just smiled. ”Sure, whatever you want Sougo-sama.” the (obviously) submissive girl flirts.

Sougo's face drops from sly to more deadpan than usual. Without saying anything else, he turns his back at the girls and walks away. ”Sougo-sama, Sougo-samaaa! Please come back!” The girl begged. Sougo could only sigh with boredom.

Sougo thought to himself: Since when all the women in Edo have gone that annoying. It's not that I'm not interested in women, but that was too easy. I don't need easy, I don't want easy. I want that cat-and-mouse thing and of course after that complete submission because I am the high prince of sadists. After a while of strolling the captain realized that he was in Kabukicho District. There he saw two familiar men talking in an alley.

”Gin-san, what are we going to do now?” Shinpachi asked with worry in his voice. ”Calm down Patsuan, Gin-chan needs to think.” I-I-I can't calm down, Kagura-chan is going to...I can't even say it.” Gintoki scratched his hair and picked his nose simultaneously, he only does both when the situation is dire.

”Yo Danna! Oh, and levitating glasses.” Sougo greeted as he stomped next to them. ”Hello, Okita-san. Wait what do you mean 'levitating glasses'?? Shinpachi asked. Before Sougo could elaborate his words Shinpachi said: ”Nevermind, I have to go home now, see you guys later.” As Shinpachi was gone, Sougo turned to Gintoki. ”Where is China?” He asked. Gintoki met Sougo's eyes and flicked his bugger to a bypassers hair.

”Listen to me sofa-kun...” Gintoki began. ”It's Sougo, Danna” Sougo corrected. ”Yes, I know Sommelier-kun, you don't need to correct me anymore,” Gintoki said with a proud voice. Sougo sighed and said: ”It's still Sougo, Danna and how the hell do you know a word like that?”

Gintoki laughed briefly and cleared his throat. ”Oh Danna-kun, a man like me gets wiser and suaver with age, it's called the George Clooney-effect. You must've heard about it Soda-kun?” He huffed and crossed his arms. This is just endless, Sougo thought and sighed. ”Where is China, Danna?” He asked again.

Gintoki closed his eyes and said with a heavy voice: ”I think she went to the riverbank, but I highly advise you to leave her alone today Sabaody-kun.” Gintoki walked past Sougo and waved his hand as he left. Sougo thought to himself: Well, if China is angry at something, I bet she will be a fierce opponent today, after all, it's our duel day.

Sougo made his way to the riverbank, the sun was setting soon so the sky was pinkish and dreamy. Kagura was sitting near the river. She was hugging her knees and facing the river. She had her hair ornaments as usual and her long vermillion hair was in two ponytails. She had her traditional red cheongsam dress.

”Oi fat pig!” Sougo yelled. No answer. ”Oi fat ugly pig!” Still no reaction. ”Oi China you are breaking a policeman's heart for not answering. Do I need to arrest your sorry ass?” He shouted louder. Kagura's arms dropped to her sides, she grabbed some grass with her fists and then let it fall out of her hands. It seemed she was trying not to get agitated by Sougo's words. He was not having that, not one bit.

Sougo stomped to stand behind her. ”Leave me alone dumbshit, I've had a rough...aaaaargh! *SPLASH* Sougo had calmly kicked Kagura into the river. I just might die after this, but what the hell. Sougo wondered to himself. An angry beast emitting a crimson aura rose from the river. Kagura walked out of the water, pissed off and wet. She shook herself dry like a dog would (because Kagura is and always will be Kagura).

”You truly are an animal, have you ever heard of towels?” Sougo teased. Kagura met Sougo's eyes with a gaze so murderous it could crumble down nations. Chills went down Sougo's spine and he loved that feeling, actually, he lived for that sensation. Kagura's mind was made up then and there, sadist would meet his demise today.

Kagura didn't have her umbrella with her, so she had to trust her hand-to-hand combat skills. No words were exchanged and Kagura charged into a fierce attack. Sougo dodged effortlessly. As Kagura was cussing to herself, she noticed a tree nearby.

She yanked the tree up from the ground and threw it at Sougo. ”You stupid sadistic punk chihuahua asshole!” Kagura shouted. Her tree attack missed by inches and Kagura gritted her teeth. Sougo pulled out his katana and stated. ”How unfair that only one of us gets to use a weapon.”

Kagura made a quick high kick and managed to disarm Sougo. Normally that would never happen, but Sougo's focus was terrible. Her slightly wet red clothes hugged her from everywhere, perfectly. It was terribly disturbing for Sougo.

Where did she get those curves? Not that I care. What about those damned side slits on her dress showing off her strong and perfectly smooth legs. Why doesn't she wear pants underneath or something... Sougo's inner thoughts were caught short when Kagura's swift jump kick found his jaw. As karma worked it's ways, Sougo flew into the river.

”Hah! There you go Sadist, now we are even.” Kagura cheered with confidence and a big smile. Sougo got up from the river and touched his tender jaw. It was painful, but he had gotten used to her kicks landing sometimes...actually nowadays more frequently. Sougo stared Kagura straight into her eyes and saw through her smile, all fake.

Sougo walked to the shore and shouted: ”Damn you China, now my clothes are wet too.” He walked normally closer to Kagura and observed her from a safe distance. Sougo slid his jacket off and threw it on the ground. ”Now, will you tell me what's wrong? Or do I need to force it out of you?” Sougo asked.

Kagura looked away from him and her posture slumped slightly. ”Oh, and I am going to arrest you for damaging that poor tree, you can be so careless sometimes...” Sougo said and shooked his head. Kagura was clenching her fists and let out an angry battle roar. Sougo smirked and prepared for the upcoming thunderstorm of kicks.

Their bouts usually lasted an hour or two. When they were younger the crazy sadistic duo was always at each other's throats. After four years of maturing the level of bickering stayed the same, but physical fights happened only once per week. It was an unspoken contract between them, they just happened to find each other on their ”duel day”. Sougo would never admit it to anyone but their battles were the highlights of his weeks.

Sougo had a hard time keeping his eyes in control. He didn't understand why he wanted to stare at her legs, vermillion hair, and bright blue eyes. She was the monster kid who had nose picking contests with her earthdad. Her gross mouth was always full of food and sukonbu. Why is she so distracting. Sougo thought as he dodged another attack.

They were now facing each other in fighting stances. Their combat transformed into a pushing contest. As their fingers interlaced it felt somehow very intimate to Sougo. He decided to win fast to get away from this tingling feeling.

”What the hell are you staring sadist?” Kagura yelled. Sougo saw his opportunity and stared straight into Kagura's cerulean eyes: ”I'm looking at your beautiful blue eyes, I could stare at them all day.” He lied (or did he now?). Kagura was dumbfounded and lost her stance. Sougo was still pushing with full strength so they both lost their balance and fell down on the grass.

The sun was setting now and the sky was reddish. In that light and in Sougo's eyes, Kagura looked mesmerizing, like a beautiful china doll. He was hovering over her. Why China makes me feel this way? They were both panting from the fight and their eyes were locked like it wasn't possible to look anywhere else. Sougo's eyes dropped from her eyes to her parted lips.

Kagura's chest was moving rapidly, mostly from exhaustion, partly from something else. Sougo followed his instincts. He lowered himself closer to Kagura's face, only a few inches away from her inviting lips. Sougo had an urge to kiss her, but he was waiting for Kagura to close the rest of their painful distance.

Sougo surprised himself. He thought he was the kind of 'take what you want' person, but with Kagura everything was different, he was different. Kagura closed her eyes and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks. That's kind of cute. Sougo thought and smirked a bit.

Sougo closed his eyes too. He felt his hands getting sweaty from anticipation. Suddenly he heard the most sinful small moan come from Kagura's mouth. Sougos whole body stiffened from that single sound. And then he felt a touch.

Kagura's...lips?..no...a knee...yes...Kagura's knee in close contact with his crotch. And let me make this clear, it wasn't the good kind of contact, it was a hard impact. Sougo flew off Kagura and grunted in pain. Kagura bounced off the ground and backed away from him. ”Don't ever do that again, you big stupid...asshat!” Kagura shouted loudly.

Kagura ran away as Sougo recovered from the impact. What the hell happened or didn't happen? Damn you China you fucking tease, Sougo thought and got up. He grabbed his jacket and walked home with nothing but his thoughts and a pounding heart.

#okikagu #gintama #okita sougo #kagura #okita x kagura #fanfiction

30 notes · View notes

mcjour · 4 years ago

Text

so the other day was the anniversary of my friend’s death and i realized there was so much i didn’t process there like at all.

i can barely even remember what our relationship was. he definitely wasn’t a close best friend or anything, at least. but the line between acquaintance and friend is blurred. like, i didn’t exactly hang out with him. but it’s not like i was really hanging out with anyone at that point lol.

so i see his closer friends (also my friends) post something on facebook sometimes and i am like huh am i entitled to that? was i close enough to him or would posting be attention seeking?

i mean there isn’t anything i need to post or anything but thought that was an interesting thought. especially knowing my friends who knew him really wouldn’t even be the type to gatekeep grief anyway but like i said just a thought

gosh i barely even remember him and that’s so awful. like the day i found out he died, we all posted about it and so my memories are only the ones i wrote down in that post. they were nice memories, but i hate that my brain has deleted so much of my life

anyway can’t believe it’s been 5 years!

i think about him a lot, actually. not all the time, but more than i would expect

one thing i thought about this week was how traumatizing finding out was. because we all found out through a mass email to the entire campus. heartbreaking, probably the worst way to find out. i don’t really blame the school for that or anything, it’s not like they have a roster of all your connections or anything lol. but that doesn’t make it any less sucky

i remember i was texting a friend and maybe she was the one to read the email first? but either way i remember us being like, hold on, are we reading this correctly? our friend had a decently common name, so on a large campus, could there have been someone else with his name? but no. he was ours.

i remember i was in the dining hall getting food right before work. i was in shock. i don’t remember if i cried then and there, but i definitely cried at work. i don’t really know why i didn;t just not go to work. probably i didn’t even know who i would talk to about it. besides, what else was i supposed to do? it’s not like there was a guide to how to react when you find out your friend is dead via campus email.

i remember walking to my dorm after my shift. for some reason i worked on the opposite side of campus than i lived lol. i was probably cold and tired and dirty and wet from working in the dish room. i was listening to music as i walked. as i walked up the steep hill (almost home!), the song lifegoeson by noah and the whale came on shuffle. there’s a verse about the singer’s “last night on earth” and having no regrets or something. and wow i think i probably just bawled right then and there knowing that it had literally been my friend’s last night on earth the night or 2 before.

when you looked at his twitter, that night (or sometime in the days before), he had retweeted a bunch of tweets saying “i could really use a hug right now.” i don’t think i had seen it at the time, like i don’t think i used twitter every day or anything. but to look back at that is so stinging. like, one of those cliche moments wondering if you could go back into the past and change something. like if i had seen that and reached out to him, would he still be alive today? and really who knows. and who knows, maybe other friends DID see, and DID reach out. it’s not really something i spend a lot of time guilting over or anything. but it still is really something to look back at, the cries for help immortalized on the internet.

his twitter account was later hacked and became like a porn bot account which was also just devastating. luckily i think those tweets got deleted, but the profile picture and the bio still remain. and his old tweets too, like i said.

there’s also a message he sent me a few months before he died inviting me to a party, which was so kind. and literally the day before he died, he sent me a cat video. or maybe it was the night he died. the link is dead now, so i don’t remember what the video was. there’s no response. i don’t know if i ignored it or if i just didn’t check twitter.

maybe he was trying to comfort us through his death. in retrospect, i guess i really was a friend if i was one of the people he reached out to in those final hours

his death was right before finals too. which meant we were all totally fucked, i was already tanking a lot of my classes as it already was. i ended up taking an incomplete in one and finishing the next semester. i am sure many of my friends were in similar boats. the friend who passed was actually about to graduate. he was 24. i must’ve been 19 at the time, almost 20. he seemed so much older. i am 24 now, so lol.

the reason i was struggling so much before this was that my cat had died about a month prior. he was my entire world.

i couldn’t imagine life without my cat. i can’t remember when i started feeling suicidal myself, but my friend’s death definitely exacerbated that feeling. i think i felt like he beat me to it. and i didn’t want people to think i was a copy cat either. but every time i cut through the fine arts center i’d stand and look over the edge and wonder if it was high enough. i really don’t think it was LOL. but i was in so much pain.

what helped was my advisor slash professor. i had emailed all my professors about the deaths just to give them a heads up if i was missing class or assignments or whatever. and i remember i typed something like sorry, i am just having a really shitty semester. and she replied and was like yeah no that’s an understatement. and she invited me to like hang out and chat and eat donuts and i felt super awkward and anxious about the whole thing but she was so kind and helped me get through some of the professor issues i was having. plus the donut. that ended up really jumpstarting our relationship and she was so important to my college career.

i knew another person from that same group who also died. i was not as close to her, but was of course still sad to hear of her passing. and it really speaks to how trauma can kill you, i think. most college groups do not lose two people. while they are still in college. there’s a photo of us from a house party and it’s weird that there’s i don’t know 10, 15, 20 people in the photo and 2 of them are dead.

these are things that i haven’t told anybody. because who could i tell?

like i could talk about my friend with our mutual friends, and we did right after he passed and stuff but like at some point that ends. and then i’m not really in close contact with any of them anymore. i would be happy to talk to any of them, don’t get me wrong, but i’m not about to contact these people out of the blue.

and anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t know

and my cat too. i feel like that’s not as shareable of a grief. like society says that’s just a cat. and it was only a month after losing him that i lost my friend, so i was still grieving my cat when it happened. but now my friends all had their own grief and i didn’t want to divert the focus on my friend to be like hi i also am sad about my cat? that seems weird. the word that came to mind was selfish, and i don’t think that’s the correct word in this context. but it does just feel inappropriate.

then to go home at the end of the semester to an unsupportive household while weighted down by two huge deaths. i think i told my mom i wasn’t going to talk to her about my friend (what could i really say anyway). idk she’s the last place i would go for comfort.

and she made grieving the cat horrible. i don’t remember but i think she made it all about her somehow. like how she found the body and bla bla bla. i don’t remember.

the grief of both of these deaths has been bottled for 5 years.

something else i remembered: they set up group counseling for me and my friends. and so i went. i wasn’t too keen on counseling, but i think i was just in shock still and figured it would be good for me. and good to be with friends, whether for my sake or theirs.

so it was run by this lady. this horrible lady. the lady who sent me to the hospital for no fucking reason. so i was like holy fucking shit!!! but once again i think i was kinda in shock, like wtf was i supposed to do, just walk out and make a scene? so i sat there. and she sucked lol. i smiled at one point. i have no idea why i smiled. it was unconcious. maybe i remembered a happy memory, maybe it was just a nervous response who fucking knows. either way she called me out on it and was like why are you smiling? now i think it is rude in general to just call someone out like that LOL but this just so happened to be a very specific trigger of mine from high school days. so i think i literally ran out of the room. one of my friends followed me and talked with me out in the staircase. i know i didn’t go back, but i can’t remember if my friend went back or not. i think i felt bad having her comfort me over some dumb thing, instead of getting counseling herself, but she was definitely like nah that lady sucks. someone i think said the lady made a comment about me leaving too. idk. anyway she’s an ass.

unrelated, kinda, this lady taught the intro to social work class which i really wanted to take but i was like hell NO. luckily one semester they got someone else to teach it. it sucked in a totally different way LOL.

0 notes

silencedlittlebirdy · 7 years ago

Text

Conquering a World: Part 7

Chapter 7 on AO3

Chad was watching me. I could feel his gaze on my back. Squishy was basking in the attention that Kelsey was giving it. She was the only one that Squishy would go to, the rest of the time he stuck to my shoulder with his tail wrapped around my neck loosely. I was working on slowly backing away. Kelsey gave him one of the kitty treats (he loved them), gaining his full attention. I backed away while he was facing her and jogged over to where Chad was. “What?” “What?” I rolled my eyes. “You were staring.” “Oh, sorry. I was…thinking.” “Dangerous thing, Frodo,” I teased in a serious way. He cracked a half-smile. “How did I know you’d have a smart-alek response to that?” “I’m consistent?” I guessed with a shrug. “We should add that to your profile,” He joked. “Oh yeah.” I glanced at my watch. “Okay, I’m going back to that wetland.” “The pool?” “I’d tell you how wrong that is, but I still need to get away from Squishy because he’s really attached to me.” I glanced back and started moving toward the wetland. “I can listen and walk, can you walk and talk?” He kept up with me. “I can.” “So, explain it to me.” I started telling him about hydrology, specialized plant communities, landscape topography, soils, and groundwater versus other water sources “Crap…that sounds complicated.” “And that’s just what I can remember from the one class on wetland ecology I took. I still have the textbook, though. I still have a lot of my textbooks. Which is good, because I can’t retain all of that knowledge.” “I’m still a little surprised about wetlands not just being the standing water…” “Dude, for that class I had a lab with it and we tramped all around this sphagnum bog, it was really hard, because we would stop and our boots would make a suctioning sound when we tried to walk again.” I grinned, then stopped. “Right, boots. Might want those.” I pivoted and headed back toward the house. “Oh…um…why?” “It’s a wet-land, and I might find one that’s…I don’t know…wetter? But I don’t want to get wet. Making sense?” “Yes, I’ll meet you back here?” I nodded and hurried back to my house, climbing up the stairs and then pushing through my shoes to my rubber muck boots. “Hello old friends, how big of a blister will we get today?” I ditched my hiking boots and put the muck boots on, then tromped (there’s no other way of movement in those things) down and out to the spot we said we would meet. He came out in a hurry. “Run. Mom said she was going to order you to take a couple days vacation.” “I can’t run in these boots.” I started walking as quickly as I could toward the wilderness, and beyond that the destination of the wetland that I was definitely using as a distraction from chemically examining plants to determine their uses, functions, and other such fascinating things that make me want a building to collapse on me. We didn’t speak until after we had paused, much deeper in the wilderness. We were pretty much the only people who dared venture this far still. The others stayed around the edges. Patricia went in a little, but that was just to see what she would be studying. Finally Chad sighed. “Okay, I need to talk to you.” “Uh oh, I should I be concerned.” “Fay.” “What? It’s a legitimate question.” I saw the look on his face and held my hands up in surrender. “Sorry. What’s up?” “You know, right?” I frowned, confused. “What?” “You know…you don’t know. I should have known that you didn’t know. Oh crap.” He was muttering to himself now. I nervously cracked my knuckles. “Um…know what? What don’t I know? That everyone is going to die?” “No! Well, hopefully not yet. No.” He sighed again, looking frustrated. “Fay, you know who I’ve chosen, right?” “Um…no…but I might have been zoned out when I was told…” “Nobody told you, I didn’t tell anybody.” “Then how am I supposed to know?” I asked, thoroughly confused. “God, Fay! It’s you!” “Okay, I know I’m pretty good at guessing things and noticing things but that’s not something that I make assumptions about.” “No!” He groaned, rubbing his face. “I chose you! I choose you.” I dropped my clipboard. He just looked at me for about five minutes. “Fay?” I held up my finger. “Can you hold that thought for…just a minute.” He rubbed his neck. “Um…sure.” I nodded and wrestled to get my boots off, then my socks. I set my clipboard down on a convenient rock. “What are you doing?” “When I get nervous I get warm, and my feet always boil in these boots and if my feet are hot then the rest of me is hot and I can’t think when I’m hot,” I rambled, running both of my hands through my hair. “How did this happen?” “What?” “You, me, chose?” My ability to word was going rapidly downhill. He sighed. “I know it’s not exactly romantic.” “Didn’t expect it to be.” I parked my feet on some moss-like plant. “Also didn’t expect it to be me.” “Fay, Ava and I can’t even hold a civil conversation. She keeps looking at me like I’m the last man on earth and she’s decided that she’s a lesbian if that’s the case.” “She’s not,” I offered. “I know, that’s beside the point though. I thought you would realize that I was choosing to spend time with you. That I was trying to get to know you. Which is not easy, you are…not easy to get to know because you have this front of complete openness and honesty but you’re also so introverted that half the time I don’t think you realize your thoughts on something until a few minutes after you have the thoughts.” “Sad, but accurate.” “And I keep finding out more areas that you’re smart in. Like seriously, why do you know all this plant stuff, but also music and cooking and even animals, but also like aliens and just people. Like, is there anything you don’t know?” “Math beyond pre-calc and statistics. Engineering. Construction. Medicine.” “And even then, you seem to know a lot of medicinal plants in the yards.” “It was a hobby in high school. Music was something I did while I was trying to figure out what the hell I was doing with my life, cooking is essential to life. Animals…well, I have dogs, cats, and chickens plus we did do a little bit of animal studying because as a forester I also need to be able to discuss habitat creation and wildlife impacts on a stand of trees. I just…if something really catches my attention I remember it because I want to learn about it. And don’t knock my fix-it knowledge. My dad taught me stuff.” “Wouldn’t dream of it,” He chuckled. I took a deep breath. “Which is probably also why I know that you like your bacon crispy, your eggs fried, if you’re going to have a pasta dish it has to be lasagna but if it has ricotta cheese you won’t eat it. Your favorite color is blue, you like being outside, you probably should have been in ecology or some other nature related field. You like dogs, and are indifferent to cats, you wanted a pet pig when you were eighteen because you wanted to watch it grow fat and then eat it. Which is slightly sadistic, but I understand considering I’m now raising chickens. When you’re worried, one side of your mouth frowns. You look at me like that a lot. And…” It all came together. “I’m a complete idiot because I did notice. Cue awkward silence.” He was looking at me with surprise and amusement. “Have we even had lasagna since coming here?” “First week. It was something Patricia had in her freezer. You and I were the ones who secretly fed ours to the dogs because of the ricotta cheese and I made you eggs when we went to my house to plan our expedition.” He thought about it for a moment. “I forgot about that.” “It was a few months ago.” He examined me for a while. “How’s your lasagna making skills?” “Why?” “It’s one of my favorite meals, but my mom changed recipes a few years ago and now I don’t like hers.” He took a step toward me. “Well, are we using canned sauce, or am I using my lasagna sauce recipe?” I asked, putting one foot on top of the other. “Recipe.” He took another step closer. “It’s a good recipe. Always makes too much sauce for the lasagna, but that freezes and we can always use it for spaghetti or something.” I pushed my bangs to the side again, watching him step closer. “Cheese?” “Mozzarella and provolone, shredded to make the layers more evenly cheesed. Cook the noodles with a little salt and oil. Eat the extra noodles just like that. Sometimes make it with pepperoni, most of the time with just ground beef.” He was barely a foot away now. “Sounds like a pretty good lasagna.” I nodded. “It’s a good recipe. My grandma always ruined it by adding Velveeta.” “Oh, no. No no.” I nodded. “That’s what we thought, but you can’t say anything to someone whose taste buds just don’t exist anymore.” He tilted my chin up so that I was looking at his face. “How are you so confident and yet so…not.” I swallowed. “Ogres are like onions, we have many layers.” He looked at me strangely. “Did you just quote Shrek?” I hesitated, then emphatically nodded. “I can’t help it. With Ava’s sister, we could talk entirely in quotes all day. My brother used to say he was slaying orcs when he went to the bathroom. My family’s weird, her family’s weird, our families bonded over weirdness. And church.” “Church?” “We went to the same one.” “Right,” he said, looking more amused by the second. “This really makes you nervous.” “I never dated. I went on two dates and technically the one doesn’t count. I’ve never been the girl that guys were interested in. I was always the invisible girl standing next to my sister as the guys flirted with her because she’s gorgeous friendly and I’m not.” “Two?” He didn’t look like he believed me. “I don’t think either of them actually count completely as dates.” I made a face at my boots. “Didn’t you go to a school that was like…eighty percent guys?” “Something like that. I had a pixie cut. I loved that pixie cut. Only reason I grew my hair back out was because everyone thought I was lesbian just because I had a pixie cut. Oh, and lipstick is intimidating apparently. And I wasn’t exactly skinny, I worked most of that off not too long ago. It was not easy.” I folded my arms, still staring at my boots. “You would look adorable with a pixie cut.” “Thank you for that choice word that will ensure that I don’t do that.” I grabbed my clipboard and boots. “Fay, you know what I mean. It would look really good on you. Adorable isn’t a bad thing.” “Yeah, I had a bitch ruin that adjective for me.” I hesitated. “I mean…witch. Gosh, that just sort of slipped out.” “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that word before.” “Well, she was one. I just don’t normally come out and say it. Huh. I think I’m shutting down.” “Don’t do that, we’re not done. This is happening.” “I don’t know how I feel about that.” He caught my hand and pulled me to him, then kissed me. I stared at him after the contact was severed. “Guess you’ll have to figure it out.” He shrugged, smiling. “That was…” My hand pointed and then didn’t. “That was really good.” He shook his head. “Let’s head back. I think you’re broken.” “Can’t break something that was never together in the first place.” “Are you sane?” “Look where we are, now answer the same question about yourself. If the answer is yes, then you’re a liar.” “And you’re back. That didn’t take long. You live in a realm that balances between substantial conversation, playful banter, and deep talks without any regard for romantic encounters.” “Yes, because romantic encounters only actually has one mark on it’s board and it’s that kiss that we just had.” “I guess that’s another thing we’ll have to work on.” “Okay you need to stop.” “And if I don’t?” “I’ll remind you that if we aren’t paying attention something could attack and kill one of us.” “Right, shutting up.” “I mean, it’s a problem if you die. If I die you just have to go with Ava.” “Shut up and pay attention Fay. That can’t happen, Fay.” He looked deeply concerned about that outcome. “I thought you two were at least civil.” “Barely, the girl is more closed up than a clam. She acts like I’m the worst thing since nuclear bombs.” “Yeah…she’s not good at emotions. Or friendliness towards people she hasn’t known for three years.” “I even tried to talk to her about books. I’ve the chronicles of Narnia and Lord of the Rings, and the Hobbit. I’ve read all of those other books that you and I keep talking about…I tried talking movies, and Star Trek is literally the only common ground I’ve been able to find so far.” “Ugh, she’s a year older than me. Why do I have to tell her how to people?” “Because you’ve successfully peopled?” “Well, yeah. I went to college. Worked at a Taco Bell. That was hell. People were decent. Smelling like tacos, was not, and neither was dealing with the customers.” He chuckled. “What about the food?’ “You know how people say that they can’t eat somewhere because they’ve worked there?” “Yeah,” He looked concerned. “I have three things that I will order from their menu, otherwise it’s a big no. Not happening. Now I want quesodillas.” “I will second that motion.” He caught my hand and pulled me around to kiss me again. Then again. “Sorry, I had to do that.” “Had to? Dang, I take it you’re not acting on want to right now. Come on, we’re literally not out of the woods.” “You’re a Swiftie.” “And nothing anybody says can change that.” “You’re not one to be easily changed.” “Indeed. I’m stubborn. It’s in my profile.” We got out of the woods and I set down my boots and clipboard. “Now what?” I asked him. Not sure where to go from here. He folded his arms, looking at me. “I’ll make you a deal.” “Let’s hear it.” “I handle the romantic stuff for the first week. That includes getting you familiar with kissing me, making eye contact, hugs, and planning dates. After the first week, you handle the romance for a week, just so we can both see how you do. Then we just continue. We don’t have to do anything more right now. Just as long as we both know that this how it’s going to be. We already talk all the time. And we hang out all the time. We work together, we eat together, we face our future under alien dictatorship together…” “Right, aliens. Almost forgot about that factor,” I said, glad my sarcasm was understood by him. Sometimes it went over Ava’s head because she didn’t always know how to do it. He grinned at me. “And let’s face it. We make an excellent team.” “We do.” “So for us, it’s just adding a little more to our current relationship. Deepening the connection.” He lightly brushed my face with his hand. Dang. Dang dang dang. “I guess that’s true.” “Fay and Chad…” Traaiillooonn asked, sounding a little nervous. Chad looked vaguely annoyed. “Yeeesss?” “There is an issue with the Squishy.” I nodded. “Be along in a second.” Traaiillooonn nodded, bobbing his head, whiskers and antennae twitching, and scurried off. “There really isn’t very much privacy around here, is there.” “Chad, that was my cue to go handle the problem.” “So?” “So, maybe I should go handle the problem.” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Or maybe we should ignore the problem and let others take some responsibility for once. You’ve done enough. Come on. I’ve been holding out on you. I’ve got a fully charged DVD player and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.” I felt my eyes widen slightly, and a grin spread across my face. “I love that movie.” “I know,” he said. I bit my lip. “You don’t think it’s something super important?” “I don’t. If it had been, there would be scream and Traaiillooonn would be hiding.” “Point taken,” I conceded. “So?” I smiled, biting lip guiltily. “Popcorn?” “Oh, definitely.”

@riptidethepen @mrsmalch

Hey, if anybody wants to be added to the tag list, please let me know. I don’t always get notified of responses on my older posts.

#conquering worlds is just a hobby #humans are weird #outer space

15 notes · View notes