#am I an old man yells at sky if I say that it bums me out to think of fic becoming reduced to tweets

[bitchslapblastoids]

can someone help me understand the concept of a “socmed au”? Is it…..fanfiction written in the form of…..fake social media posts? So basically the tiktok of feature length films?

[xoxopandapanda]

InuKag Week 2021: Day 7

Day 7: Marriage

@inukag-week

He had never explicitly asked her to marry him. He had just sort of told people they were getting married.

Sango was the one to tell her that she was getting married on nice summer day as she held the new baby.

“Kaede wants to know when you want the wedding. Miroku wants to officiate it, but Kaede said she has dibs because she was there when you first met.” Sango was mending one of the girls’ kimono sleeve that had torn in a tussle match.

Kagome looked up surprised. “When I want the wedding?”

“Inuyasha said it was up to you. He’s too busy building the house.”

“Inuyasha is building a house?”

Sango wasn’t catching on to Kagome’s confusion in the least. She nodded. “Miroku is getting ideas from him about what to add to our house, so I suppose I’ve got you to thank for that.”

Kagome blinked rapidly and tried to process the information her best friend had just laid out. She instinctively bounced the baby in her arms when he began to fuss.

Sango continued, moving to grab a different color thread to match the pattern of the kimono better – and to hopefully hide the mending she was doing. “I personally think you should just have two ceremonies because I don’t want to hear from Kaede or Miroku about how disappointed they are if they don’t get to officiate it. I mean, they are two different ceremonies, so it shouldn’t matter. Besides, the village could use two weddings, even if it’s the same people getting married.”

Kagome finally sputtered out, “I’m sorry, but who told you I was getting married?”

Sango looked up, her face showing confusion as well. “Inuyasha did. He’s been having Miroku barter for fabric to make you a wedding kimono.”

“Inuyasha told you I’m getting married? To him?”

“Well, I’d presume so. Unless there’s another man no one but Inuyasha knows about.”

Kagome didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry from the absurdity of it all. “Inuyasha told you we were getting married without even asking me to marry him? That man, I swear.”

Sango’s face went white as she realized what her friend was saying. Her tone was low and quiet. “He hasn’t asked you to marry him?”

Kagome shook her head no, finally laughing.

“Oh my god. I’m going to have my husband beat some sense into him.” Sango put down her sewing and stood up. “What an absolute moron! He’s been telling everyone you two are getting married for weeks!”

That got Kagome’s attention. “What do you mean everyone?”

“He told all the men in the village when they were rebuilding the roof to the shrine last month. We’ve all been getting ready for it, and you had no idea.”

Kagome took Sango’s hand as she went to leave. “It’s fine, Sango. It’s honestly fine.”

“You’re going to marry him?”

Kagome nodded. “Yeah, I think I’ll marry him. He, after all, did the hard work of informing everyone for me.”

“He forgot to inform you. The bride.”

Kagome shrugged. “I mean, Miroku just asked you to have his babies. Can’t say either of us got very romantic proposals.”

Sango sat back down with a huff. “I suppose.”

“Besides,” Kagome settled back to rock the baby boy to sleep, “we’ve got great stories to tease them with when the kids are old enough.”

“My daughters will not know how Miroku got me to agree to marry him. They will not think that a man can just roll up and ask them that question.”

Kagome smiled softly. “Fair enough. We’ll have to tease them with Inuyasha’s proposal story only then.”

Sango smiled back. “I can agree to that.”

“Good. Now, seriously, I need you to help me figure out what I’m supposed to do for a wedding. What do I need to plan, and does Inuyasha know two people want to officiate it?”

The women settled into a jovial conversation about wedding planning, wedding kimono sewing (Sango had not had a special one made for her wedding, but wanted to help Kagome make one), and what kind of food needed to be prepared for it.

When the sun fell low into the sky, Inuyasha came back from working in the forest. Kagome hadn’t known what he had been doing the last few weeks, but now she was suspicious he was building the home Sango had mentioned.

Miroku also returned with Inuyasha, eager to see his babies again after a long day of being without them. He scooped them up in his arms and kissed his girls’ cheeks. They squealed and chittered at him about their adventurous day of collecting rocks and bugs.

Kagome watched Miroku scoop up his baby boy while still giving his twins his attention. Sango waved her and Inuyasha off as they began to walk toward Kaede’s hut – where Kagome had been staying for the time being.

“Have you ever thought about having babies, Inuyasha?” The sight of Miroku with his children burned the question into her mind, and since they were apparently getting married, she felt bold enough to ask him.

Inuyasha’s arms went up quickly and crossed tightly over his chest. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I have.”

“You have?”

“Sure,” Kagome slipped an arm around his bicep, pulling him closer to her. “I’ve always wanted some babies of my own.”

Inuyasha relaxed enough for his arms to loosen for her pull him closer to her and rest her head on his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She responded. “I think we should get married first though.”

“Miroku says fall harvest time will be the best time to get married.”

Kagome’s brain stopped for a moment. She thought that he would ask her if she prompted him. But no. He breezed past that part and went to talking about the wedding as if it was a sure thing.

Okay, maybe it was a sure thing. She wanted to marry him and spend the rest of her life with him, but still. She kind of wanted to be asked.

Kagome was struck by the realization that if she wanted there to be a proposal, she was going to have to give it.

She stopped in her tracks, causing Inuyasha to jerk to a stop and look at her confused. “I told him that if you wanted a spring wedding, we could wait a year.”

Kagome ignored his comment, but it wasn’t lost on her that he was willing to wait until next spring if she wanted. He could really be a sweet guy.

But she was more focused on the idea of a proposal to comment on it.

Kagome dropped on one knee, taking Inuyasha’s left hand in hers. “Inuyasha,” she started.

“What are you doing? Got a bum ankle or something.” Kagome resisted rolling her eyes at him. He was good a ruining a moment, but she wasn’t going to let him ruin this.

“Inuyasha,” she started again – only to be cut off again.

“That’s my name. Glad to know you’ve finally got it down.”

Kagome’s head dropped as she sighed, composing herself. He wasn’t going to deter her from her mission of having a proposal. She looked up and made eye contact with him again.

And nearly burst out laughing at how confused and scared his expression was. He was clearly uncomfortable and trying to figure out what she was up to. His ears were pinned down against his head, and his mouth twisted into a grimace.

“Inuyasha, willyoumarryme?” Kagome spit it out so quickly that the words blurred together, just so he wouldn’t interrupt her again.

Inuyasha’s eyes widened. Horror flashed across his face. Kagome asked again, this time carefully and clearly. “Will you marry me?”

Inuyasha’s face was such a mixture of thinking, confusion, fright, and shock that Kagome snorted out a laugh that she couldn’t contain.

“The guy’s supposed to do that, isn’t he?”

Kagome shrugged. “Don’t think it matters at this point. But it’s a yes or no question. Will you marry me?”

Inuyasha’s hand began to feel clammy in hers. She had frazzled his nerves big time.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Answer the question.” Kagome couldn’t stop the annoyance from crossing her face.

Inuyasha recognized that he might be getting into hot water with not answering, so he gave the only response he had ever given Kagome before. “Keh.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” Kagome dropped his hand and stood up, brushing off her knee. She was going to take his arm again, but this time he grabbed her hand and dropped to his knee. He tenderly kissed her knuckles, before looking up at her and whispering in an uncertain voice. “Will you marry me?”

Kagome’s heart began to race. She had just asked him herself, but there was something so magical being on the other side of the question. She started to tear up, causing Inuyasha to look panicked, before she yelled at the top of her lungs.

“YES!”

She pulled him up to his feet and kissed him firmly on the mouth. She had never felt so happy in her entire life, nor ever so in love.

The next day, she told everyone who walked past her that she and Inuyasha were getting married. Even though they gave her rather confused looks, as they had known for much longer than she did, she couldn’t care less.

It wasn’t the most romantic way to get engaged, but it sure set the tone for their future together.

[oasis-for3v3r]

Cloud 9 <3

Prompt-reader is a famous singer and performs her first live performance with David Bowie, doing a duet of Under Pressure on Live Aid

David Bowie x Reader Platonic Pairing @laneofpennies​ @a-none-bee​ @angelofhell323​

Warnings: none unless you count descriptions of nervousness. And a lengthy fic

Okay, let’s do it.

Was the first thing you said to yourself. At eight am. On a Saturday. In the middle of July. You usually be sleeping until 2pm on weekends since you were usually so busy on the weekdays. Being Englands new up- and- coming musician is all. 

“Ow!” you said as your foot slipped on something and stubbed your toe on the edge of the dresser. You bit back a mirad of curses as you picked up the foul weapon.

Oh.

Sky Heavens- Head in the Clouds. Your first album. Of course. You were lucky enough to get one from the store. Nearly all of the record shops were sold out. You should be happy, I mean sales were doing great, and as for the royalties-

Oh my gosh how has it ben 25 minutes already?!. 

It was a very important day for you.. you were preforming for your first crowd ever. So of course you were excited. but more nervous because, it was your first time. And you had terrible stage fright. And you were doing a duet with David Bowie. Oh you almost forgot.

Your first performance was gonna be Live Aid.

As you tucked in your fancy bell-sleeved bloused you asked yourself a string of questions. For example:

How in the hell did you get into live aid?

What song were you gonna sing with David, er Mr.Bowie?

Were there gonna be high notes? Could you even hit them?

Am i dressing too casual?

Oh my gosh, were going after Queen.

Your final though was punctuated with a hailing of a cab. You felt dizzy after you entered the car so you focused on the horizon, which made your eyes get heavier and heavier until...

“Ma’am this is a cab not a daycare” the driver grunted.

Your head snapped up, wiping the drool off off your chin. You have got to stop making this a habit. You scolded to yourself.

Every time your legs hit the ground of Wembely Stadium, you could feel the muscles in your leg turn into jelly. Your heartbeat is playing the percussion. And your pretty sure that your haven’t taken a breath since coming out of the cab.

You finally taken a breather when you hear commotion coming from the nearest hallway. You saw so many stars you could’ve swore you were in space. You saw Elton John, Freddie Mercury, Roger Taylor, Brian May, (you couldn’t find John Deacon) Adam Ant was sitting on a couch reading a magazine. Next to him was Elvis Costello sticking straws down his hair, you were about to laugh when-

“Boo!”

“Jesus!”

 “No this is David.” joked a lanky man with blond hair, and a pastel blue suit, matching your all white outfit (with a pale blue headband) making you too look like the color of the sky.

“Mr.Bow- David, hi!” you exclaimed, trying to sound as cheery as possible. 

He hesitated for a moment looking in your eyes as if searching for something only for a moment. “Come into my trailer, i need to talk to you.” he says softly.

You followed him into what looked like a portal to the personification of serenity. There were books piled on top of a small table. A kettle burning on low. With not surprisingly, a pile of teacups littered on top of the counter.  You also noticed (on nosier inspection) small annotations scribbled in the corners.

“Y/N!!”

“YES” you exclaimed, jumping slightly. You have got to start paying more attention to your surroundings.

“Tell me whats on your mind, and be honest” his voice was filled with concern, but somehow still comforting.

You took a breath- seventh one today. And started:

“ I feel like everyone will be disappointed, when they see me. All I ever wanted to do was make music that someone will relate to and find comfort in. And now that I have that, which I am very grateful for, I have to handle the price of fame as well. People put celebrities on pedestals and if they make one mistake in the public eye the pedestal crumbles. And don’t even get me started on the media. And today one of the biggest days in history, and if I do bad, then i will not only disappoint myself but the families in Africa who are relying on me to succeed. And-”

“Y/N” David said sternly “Calm down, you will be fine.” He took a breather and said.” You remind me of myself when I was younger, a shy little Capricorn boy, I just wanted to make music, and the fame tagged along. Its what happens eventually. I just used theatrics to cover up the stage fright.” “Now I just focus on the crowd as if they were one person and give them ll the light I have.”

“As for you when singing Under Pressure with me- while singing Freddie’s part- I want you to take all of the audience’s energy, make it into light and give it towards the sky.” “Give everybody hope.”

Just then you heard.a knock at the trailer. it was time for you to get ready. 

You watched as Queen rocked the show. This was gonna be hard for you to follow up. You felt like this performance was gonna be talked about for decades. You felt pity for the future generations that wont get to see this. 

You watched with butterflies in your stomach, as you saw David perform TVC 15 which bleed into Rebel Rebel. You smiled with fondness, as the corners of your mouth twitched,(which happened often when you’re nervous). When you were turned around.

Moustace, Freddie Mercury.

“Hello, Darling. You’re going up next with Under Pressure, right?”

“Y-Yes ” you were shaking

“ Well don’t fuck it up darling. And make everyone proud.” He said with a smile (that was also in his eyes)

You nodded, and he turned you back around. Just in time for you to be handed a microphone and introduced by David.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the stage-for the first time ever- Sky Heavens!!!”

You heard more applause than you expected. But then again it was your very first time ;)

You heard the beginning of the song, and you knew you had no time to be nervous as you started:

Mmm num ba de Dum bum ba be Doo buh dum ba beh beh

Then together-

Pressure pushing down on me Pressing down on you, no man ask for Under pressure that burns a building down Splits a family in two Puts people on streets

Um ba ba be Um ba ba be De day da Ee day da- that's okay

So far you have just been looking at the horizon, seeing the sun begin its descent, little by little. 

It's the terror of knowing what this world is about Watching some good friends screaming, "Let me out!" Pray tomorrow gets me higher Pressure on people, people on streets

This is for peace and hope in Africa.

Chipping around, kick my brains around the floor These are the days it never rains but it pours Ee do ba be Ee da ba ba ba Um bo bo People on streets Ee da de da de People on streets

This is for anyone who has felt stress for being themselves

It's the terror of knowing what this world is about Watching some good friends screaming, 'Let me out' Pray tomorrow gets me higher, high Pressure on people, people on streets

The sun was setting now, making the crowd look like angels and your outfit dipped in the sun. David was looking at you with the biggest grin on his face as if seeing his child gain confidence. The high note was coming, and you were ready.

Take all the Audiences Energy

Turned away from it all like a blind man

Make it into light

Sat on a fence but it don't work

Give it towards the sky

Keep coming up with love but it's so slashed and torn 

Give everybody hope

Why, why, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!

That was the highest note you had ever hit. The energy that the crowd was giving you was electric. You felt unstoppable.

Insanity laughs under pressure we're breaking

David was practically yelling into the mic, as he felt unstoppable with you too.

Can't we give ourselves one more chance? Why can't we give love that one more chance? Why can't we give love, give love, give love, give love Give love, give love, give love, give love, give love?

Because love's such an old-fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the (People on streets) edge of the night And love (People on streets) dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves This is our last dance This is our last dance This is ourselves under pressure Under pressure Under pressure Pressure

On the final word you hugged David, he shouted in your ear so you hear him over the roaring crowd. “YOU DID IT LOVE!!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU111″

You look over his shoulder to see Freddie Mercury.

Clapping.

For You.

You felt as if there was the sun poured inside of you. As if you were weightless. You found your new home; on Cloud 9.

[lady-divine-writes]

The Hitchhiker - Chapter 1/4

Picking up a hitchhiker isn't exactly the dumbest thing Kurt has ever done, but it's not exactly the smartest either. When he comes across Blaine Anderson caught in a sudden downpour, he can't just leave him on the corner to drown... can he? (1756 words)

Read on AO3.

“Excuse me? Sir? Do you need a ride?”

Kurt flashes as confident and honest a smile as he can to the man standing on the side of the road. But the second those words leave his mouth, he hears his father’s voice in his head yelling: “Kurt Hummel! What the hell are you doing? Picking up a hitchhiker? Are you out of your mind!?”

And Kurt has to admit, the voice is right. 

There is a fifty-fifty chance that this man, standing alone in the dark by the side of the road, is a violent serial killer. His outfit alone perpetuates the stereotype - indigo jeans, white t-shirt, leather jacket. He has an olive-green duffel slung over one shoulder and he's carrying a guitar case, for God’s sake! What are the odds that there’s actually a guitar in there!? If Kurt picks this man up, he has a greater chance of becoming a statistic than of that man being a musician! Kurt should drive away now without an inch of guilt, floor it without looking back.

And he probably would have deferred to his better judgment and stepped on the gas had it not been for a few things. 

It's pitch dark out for a start. Only a handful of street lights line the curb, installed twenty or so feet apart, which creates long expanses of shadow in between. The road they're on is in the middle of nowhere, with trees towering on both sides of them. This doesn’t help Kurt’s argument any since it seems like just the place a killer would lie in wait for a potential victim. But, in that same vein, someone or something could be stalking him, waiting for Kurt to drive away so they can pounce on him from the trees. Then it would be up to the reach of this man's legs and his athletic ability to save him.

This leads directly to reason two: the man is a klutz. In the five minutes Kurt has been stuck at this red light, he’s seen him smack himself in the face with his own bag, drop his sunglasses (pink rimmed Wayfarers, no less), catch them, then fumble them again, and step in the same puddle twice. If this man is a serial killer, he may not be the most competent one on the planet. 

Three, just as Kurt’s light turned green, it started raining. And not the light drizzle he has come to expect during his infrequent forays to San Diego, but an honest-to-God downpour. Kurt saw the man turn his face up to the sky, his shoulders slumped, wholly defeated by this new development. He put the butt of his guitar case on the toes of his shoes to keep it out of the mud, then attempted to wrap his jacket around it.

And Kurt’s heart melted. 

Kurt is a musician himself. Singer more than musician but he has friends who play the guitar. His stepbrother Finn owns a Fender that he sold plasma to afford. Puck's Gibson is the only thing he has never hawked when he needed money. And Sam, in this man's position, would take off every stitch of clothing to protect his Blueridge if it came down to it. Kurt can imagine this man’s whole life wrapped up in that case, which he is now convinced does hold a guitar.

Kurt isn't a gun enthusiast by any means, but he thinks a semi-automatic should be able to withstand some weather. He may want to Google that one later on… provided he’s still alive.

And about that guitar case: it isn’t a plain, generic, black guitar case. The thing is covered in travel stickers and bling. It has a personality all its own. An easily identifiable personality. If this man is a killer, Kurt is pretty certain every human on the West Coast would know about it. He’d be nicknamed the Kitsch Case Killer or something along those lines. That case sticks out like a sore thumb. There’s no way a man carrying a guitar case decorated like an old-school Lisa Frank binder is getting away with swiping a pack of gum, not to mention murder.

To a lesser degree (Kurt tells himself so he doesn't have to admit how idiotic this idea is), this is the most a-dork-able man Kurt has ever seen. He looks more like a puppy than a predator (weak reasoning, he knows). But Kurt has instincts about people that are usually on the money. He has to give himself credit for making it this far in life. Kurt is tougher than he looks. He has taken his fair share of licks, and he’s still ticking. 

Plus, he has bear repellent in the pocket of his jacket the size of a can of Aquanet. He feels he has his bases covered.

The man walks slowly towards Kurt's car, the curls piled atop his head hanging heavily down his cheeks the wetter he gets.

No, Kurt can’t leave him out here.

“Um. Thanks. Thanks a lot,” the man says, cautiously eyeing Kurt up and down as if he may be asking himself Kurt’s same string of questions in his head. “But I… ” The fact that he isn’t jumping at Kurt’s offer, that he’s glancing anxiously down the road, mulling his options even as rain pours down his back, puts Kurt at ease. The man looks like he’s trying to gauge if Kurt might have a weapon hiding somewhere on his person, contemplating if he’ll come out of this alive if he accepts this ride. 

Ironic, but that proves that there are two sides to every situation.

The man looks about to step away and decline until a fork of lightning turns night into day for five seconds, a boom so loud following it shakes Kurt’s rental car. 

“Sure. Okay. Why not?” He pulls open the rear door in a rush but still wary as he puts his belongings into the backseat and joins Kurt in the front. “Thank you so much. I didn’t expect it to rain this hard, or I might have stayed in my hotel room one more night.” He runs a hand through his hair, cringing at the water that sprays the headrest.

“Not a problem.” Kurt reaches behind the seat and grabs the towel he’d fished out of his luggage earlier when he’d done the same thing. But the rain was only a sprinkle then – angel spittle, his mom would have called it. “I couldn’t just drive by and leave you out here to drown.”

The man chuckles. It, much like the rest of him, is too cute for words. “My name’s Blaine.”

“Kurt.” Kurt extends a hand for Blaine to shake. Blaine looks at it, hesitates a second before taking it, still questioning Kurt and his intentions, Kurt assumes. Despite being stuck in the rain, Blaine’s hand is warm, comforting in a way Kurt speculates a serial killer’s hands would not. “Well, Blaine, where you headed?”

“Oh, uh… I’m trying to make my way to L.A. But you can drop me off anywhere between here and there.”

“Ooo. Actor? Producer?”

“Unemployed schlub, unfortunately. Currently riding my brother’s couch. He’s the actor. I’m the… the failure.”

Kurt pulls onto the road again and heads for the highway. “That’s a really unkind thing to say about yourself.”

“It’s what… well, it’s what my father would say.” He wrings his hands uncomfortably. “He’d also say I’m a disappointment, a waste of a Harvard education, a bum… ” He shivers. Kurt raises the temperature of the heater. Blaine glances at Kurt in embarrassment, and Kurt gets the hint that it’s not the cold that has him trembling.

“I know it’s not my place to say, but I’d stop listening to your father if I were you. It doesn’t seem like he has anything worthwhile to say.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even know me,” Blaine says under his breath, with an edge like a growl, the kind wild animals give when you stumble into their territory unaware. It sets the hairs on the back of Kurt’s neck on end, and he starts second-guessing this decision. 

Relax, Kurt. The man’s just beat down. Exhausted. You understand what that’s like.

Blaine sighs, sinking into the passenger seat and leaning his head against the window. "I'm sorry. I know you're trying to be nice. It's been a long day." 

“I understand. And I may not know you, but I know fathers," Kurt continues. "A father’s job is to be supportive of their children, no matter what they do in life. Succeed or fail, win or lose, they should always be in your corner. And if he’s not, screw him! Surround yourself with people who want to lift you up, not tear you down.”

Blaine winds his arms around his torso, hugging himself tight. “I---is that the way your father treats you?”

“Yup,” Kurt answers with a subconscious smile at the mention of his dad. “He supports me in everything, even the stuff he doesn’t entirely agree with. And when things don’t work out, he’s the first person there, helping me to my feet and encouraging me to try again.”

“Sounds like a great guy. You’re lucky.”

“He is," Kurt says proudly. "And I am.”

Blaine fixes his gaze to the road ahead as Kurt merges onto the highway. He chews the inside of his cheek, stares too hard at the rain-slick asphalt, not shifting focus. It's as if he can't bring himself to look at Kurt when he asks, “So, you think you’re a good judge of character?”

Kurt nods. “Yes, I do."

"How do you know?"

"Experience. I have a decent track record.”

"Surround yourself with a lot of questionable people, do you?"

"I guess you can say that," Kurt agrees with a laugh, thinking of the people who have come into his life that he has adopted as his own: Rachel, Dave, Santana, Puck, all of them rivals or bullies. Or both. But now, a cherished part of his found family.

People he hopes will miss him if SDPD finds him by the side of the road tomorrow with his throat cut.

Stop it, Kurt! Relax! You're in no danger! Everything is going to be fine!

Blaine shrugs, examining his wet hands as if he’s reading something etched on his skin. “Someday you’ll be wrong.”

“Probably." Kurt meets Blaine's eyes in the reflection of the windshield, flashes his confident smile again. "But I don’t think that day is today.”

[super-un-stable]

Ratarang x muffins thing

Muffins hummed a sweet and soft tune of her favorite song. She was picking some berries at in the trees that were on the outer line of the valley. She was filling a small basket and she was almost done until something caught her eye. At just the outside of the valley gate was some sort of stand, it was odd. Sure she had seen lemonade and cake stands tons of time but never outside the valley. It was extremely dangerous and not to mention fairly bad for business. Nobody went out of the valley so it’s not like they would catch any customers. Muffins grew extremely curious, no sweetiepie would ever leave the valley. Something was definitely up. She was aware of the whole ‘curiosity killed the cat’ thing but the. Again it was just outside the valley. How much danger could she really get into? She stood there and thought for a long bit. Wondering if she should really do what she wanted to. The mouse took a deep breath and calmed down. “Ok I’ll just take a quick look! How bad can that be?” She said to herself. She stood on the outside of the valley wall and quickly rushed over to the wooden stand she had seen, feeling still fairly frightened of what could definitely happen. She took a deep breath as soon as she reached the counter, feeling a bit proud of herself for not getting eaten. She calmed down and looked up at the sign. She expected it to say something like lemonade or something generic but rather it said “Kissing stand for a loser” the top read, the writing was in a dark yellow spray paint and sloppy handwriting. She tilted her head, now this was really weird. No one had ever made a kissing booth type of thing before. Except for that one thing pinky did a while ago. She shuttered in the horrible memories of that incident. She looked around I see if anyone was there. Nobody. Muffins would have thought that whatever this stand was had been abandoned but despite its, ‘raggedy’ appearance, it seemed fresh. If that made sense. She looked on its counter and saw a old and beaten down bell on top. The mouse shrugged, it’s not like she had anything to lose, what would e the harm. She rang the bell. To her surprise, as soon as she did she heard a loud bump from under the table followed by a “Ow!”.The person slipped up from under the table they had been in. Looking kinda tired and confused, still rubbing his head. Ratarang!?! One of those sky pirates!? How could this?- why would- what was going on!?! Muffins yelled a bit in shock of the man she saw. Making him do the same, feeling surprised. “Ahhh!” He Yelped Muffins fell to the ground in fright. “HELP HELP! SHERIFFS!” She called out for in fear of her safety. “Hey hey hey! Dont call them! Please! Uhh I didn’t means to scare ya! I-I swear!” He said leaning over the booth waving his hands. “I was just doing this thing for my friends and I got tired! I didn’t expect anyone to come!” He explained. Muffins stopped screaming for a moment. “So this wasn’t a trap?” She asked “No! I promise! Just please don’t call me over! I just got my arm fixed!” He said Muffins nodded with a stern face making him sigh in relief. “Ohh thank god! Thought I was dead meat!” He said. Muffins stood up and looked at his table. “Sooo Uhh what is this all for?” She asked catching ratarang off guard a bit. He wasn’t expecting her to stick around. “Oh! Umm see what had happened is I lost da bet between me and my friends and they uhh made stay out here in this booth thingie till sun fall or I.... actually got a kiss...” he explained. “Oh.” She said standing up. “.....” “So dI’d you actually expect someone to come or- “Uhh I don’t- i mean like- it’s kinda hard to- ahem... I- I didn’t really expect nobody” he said rubbing the back of his head.” “Well yeah I wouldn’t either” she said They looked at each other “I Mean not that your ugly or anything, you’re super attractive it just that you went to a place that nobody goes to so like... ya know” she said a bit nervous. “Did she just say I was.. attractive!?” Ratarang said in his mind looking at her. “W-well yeah I guess that true, but... you came” he said Muffins turned pink really quick, “oh... well.. I suppose I did” she said looking down pointing the tips of both her index fingers together. Ratarang turned red himself, seeing her reaction. There was a chunk of awkward silence yet again and muffins said something, breaking it. “Soo is there like a currency or something? Like do I have to pay?” Ratarang felt really hot. “I mean no, you have to pay if ya wanted to- “I-I mean not that I would kiss you! I just met like- They kept spitting out things trying to fix the train wreck of a conversation they were having. Only to make things worse every time they said something. After a bit they just stayed silent for a bit. Ratarang was panicking in his head, not sure what to say. He knew that the first two times she was the one to say something and he wanted to do it this time. “Ok ok, don’t screw this up!” He said in his mind. “Ummm so I can only assume that you came here for a reason.” He said trying to get into a sly and confident position, only to look more awkward. “Ohh well I didn’t know what the stand was for a first.... but I guess I am here”. She said That actually worked? Ratarang cleared his throat “.....” This time rather than just saying something they kinda just leaned closer to each other. Inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, their mouths moved closer and closer to the other’s. Neither of them would have ever guessed for this to happen. Him kissing a sweetiepie, his boss would kill him. Her kissing a sky pirate, what would the town think? But dispate it all they moved in for a soft and passionate ki- Before they could move an inch closer a large beam shot down at the stand, missing Muffins but hit ratarang and destroying his stand. She gasp at this, in complete shock. The rat groaned feeling dizzy. Soon enough the sheriffs department had shown up. Ratarang saw them and knew he was in serious trouble, he tried to scurry away but Badgerclops stepped on him with his foot like a cockroach. He grunted in pain as the weight of the badger crushed his small body. “Fear not Muffins, we’re here to help you” Mao Mao said boldly. “Oh uhhh thanks?” She said “Agh! Come on man, I wasn’t even hurting nobody” Ratarang groaned. “Whatever man, just scram before I make you” Badgerclops said pointing he laser at him. Ratarang ran off into the woods to his friends. “You should be more carful” adorabat said Muffins nodded before they all took her back to the valley. —————- “Sorry about the sheriffs department wreck your stand son” Boss Hosstrich said “Yeahh maybe that whole kissing booth thing was a bad idea.” Orangusnake said Ratarang shrugged a bit, staying quiet. “You alright there?” Boss Hosstrich asked a hit worried. “Yeah I’m.... I’m alright, just bummed” he said. “Bummed? You’re the one who didn’t want to go make that booth? Why are you bummed?” Rammaraffe asked. “Uhhhh I don’t know man, just am” he lied. He didn’t want to say anything that had happened, worried about the judgment to come. Also scared of how his boss would reacts. He’d probably get kicked out if he told what actually happened. He sighed softly, wondering about her. —————— Muffins sighed as she put the pie into the oven. What even was that. She was thinking crazy. Just the idea of actually being with one of those wicked sky pirates was just insane. It was a good thing that the sheriffs stepped in before anything else could happen. ...... But why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

[tunehummed]

THE JONATHAN LARSON PROJECT. — 458 sentences from the 2019 album the jonathan larson project, conceived by jennifer ashley tepper! change pronouns as needed. trigger warning for mentions/discussion of abuse, sexism, homophobia, and oil spills.

GREENE STREET.

‛ i found the sun on a midwinter day. ’

‛ on a backstreet down in soho, there was snow on the ground. ’

‛ instinct told me to get out and search for a day. ’

‛ there goes a chic, chic baby on her way to a coup d’état. ’

‛ there goes a fella like me lookin’ for his day. ’

‛ there goes a boy in his mama’s arms. ’

‛ you can say what you can say. ’

‛ there goes a lover sittin’ and writin’ this song. ’

‛ i’m sittin’ on greene street! ’

‛ and i don’t mean money, honey. ’

‛ watchin’ the world waltz by. ’

‛ laughing the day away. ’

‛ there goes a man with a camera whose sunglasses shade his eyes. ’

‛ there goes a man who seems that he knows a star. ’

‛ there goes a tourist who’s scared to answer me. ’

‛ there goes a dancer too scared to answer me, an artist who winked as she passed by. ’

‛ an artist who winked as she passed by! ’

‛ all these people out in the street, too bad that no one wants to meet. ’

‛ too bad that no one wants to meet. ’

‛ everybody i see walks right by. ’

‛ would someone please look me in the eye? ’

ONE OF THESE DAYS.

‛ another failure, another flop. ’

‛ i should try another hobby, this has gotta stop. ’

‛ i feel like a tightrope walker without the wire. ’

‛ one more disaster, one more dud. ’

‛ it could be worse! at least this time no flood. ’

‛ at least this time no flood. ’

‛ at least this time no flood, though it’s the fourteenth time that i’ve almost caught on fire. ’

‛ though it’s the fourteenth time that i’ve almost caught on fire. ’

‛ maybe it’s luck! what is luck, how could this be luck? ’

‛ no one’s luck could be this bad! ’

‛ maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s time… ’

‛ one of these days i’ll find a way. ’

‛ i’ll make it to the top, leave ‘em all back in the dust. ’

‛ one of these days someone will say, ‘that boy will never stop!’ ’

‛ that day’s gonna be one of these days. ’

‛ don’t understand it, it isn’t fair. ’

‛ every time i try to prove myself results just aren’t there. ’

‛ i feel like a mountain climber without the peak. ’

‛ my sister laughs at me, says i’m odd. ’

‛ my mom and pop think i’m a punishment from god. ’

‛ i get looks from my neighbors that seem to say, ‘there goes that FREAK!’ ’

‛ sometimes i wish - no, i don’t - yes, i do, i wish! ’

‛ i wish that somehow i’d been born dumb. ’

‛ then i feel that something may change. ’

‛ i’ll rise above the throng. ’

‛ they’ll be amazed at who they see. ’

‛ one of these days someone will say, ‘i knew it all along.’ ’

‛ one of these days that’s what will be. ’

‛ god, can it happen today? ’

‛ maybe there’s been a mistake. ’

‛ let’s trade a failure for one minor miracle. ’

‛ i’m gonna be number one! ’

‛ i’m gonna be number one, at least in some one person’s eyes. ’

‛ one of these days someone will say, ‘you are my only one.’ ’

‛ i’m gonna fly, i’m gonna touch the sky. ’

‛ i’m gonna win, i’m gonna sin, i’m gonna never die. ’

‛ gonna glow, gonna flow, gonna click, gonna stick. ’

‛ gonna gain, reach, conquer, gonna make ‘em sick. ’

‛ gonna triumph, prevail, sail, razzle dazzle, glitter gleam. ’

‛ gonna see my face in every house on every screen. ’

‛ i’ll be the hero, i’ll change the world. ’

‛ and maybe in the end i’ll even get the girl! ’

‛ gotta believe it. ’

‛ i can see through the haze. ’

‛ a miracle’s in for a landing, gonna get here, gonna happen one of these days. ’

BREAK OUT THE BOOZE.

‛ the wolf’s at the door and i hear talk of war. ’

‛ somebody break out the booze. ’

‛ let’s grab some hooch. ’

‛ let’s get goopy and smooch. ’

‛ forget all this sob sister news. ’

‛ the world’s gettin’ lousy, so let’s go get drowsy. ’

‛ yes, right here and now-sy. ’

‛ let’s bow-wow these blues. ’

‛ the stars look poetic. the moon’s copacetic. ’

‛ crank up your jalopy and then we’ll get sloppy. ’

‛ we’ll call up our bookie and say to him: ‘cookie, lookie, we’ve nothing to lose.’ ’

‛ the times ain’t so jake, every bum’s on the take. ’

‛ got no cake, got no steak, just this ache in my shoes. ’

‛ the moon’s looking cheesy. your eyes say, ‘i’m easy.’ ’

‛ oh – it’s swell to be alive. ’

‛ oh – it’s the real mccoy! ’

‛ oh – give a yell, we’ll survive. ’

‛ waiter! who needs a mug? give me a bottle or a jug. ’

‛ the government’s awful, so let’s be unlawful. ’

‛ throw out the compass and let’s make a rumpus. ’

‛ this town’s getting screwy, so let’s go kablooey. ’

‛ it’s true if we get boo-hoo-y, we lose. ’

‛ let’s make it strange – hell! let’s get naked, angel. ’

OUT OF MY DREAMS.

‛ out of my dreams. ’

‛ out all night, kisses on the street. ’

‛ sidewalk, dance, september heat. ’

‛ stay in bed, love all day. ’

‛ fire, passion, every single way. ’

‛ go to work, mind on you. anticipating what we’re gonna do. ’

‛ nasty words on the telephone. ’

‛ alarm goes off, i’m in bed alone. ’

‛ you left my life. stay out of my dreams. ’

‛ thursday, friday, 3 am. ’

‛ buses, subways. us versus them. ’

‛ winter chill, skies look dark. ’

‛ monkey business in central park. ’

‛ coffee, cocoa, more whipped cream. ’

‛ vodka, brandy. was it just a dream? ’

‛ window shopping, christmas day. ’

‛ i wake up, all that was yesterday! ’

‛ try to stay busy. hard to stay afloat. ’

‛ will i be sunk by this lump in my throat? ’

‛ can’t think, can’t act, can’t find new roads. ’

‛ think i see you everywhere, my heart explodes. ’

‛ will i ever laugh? will i ever be the same? ’

‛ i’m tossing, i’m turning, i’m calling your name. ’

‛ maybe you’ll come back. that thought makes me weep. ’

‛ the only thing i do is i go back to sleep. ’

‛ stay out of my dreams. get out! ’

VALENTINE’S DAY.

‛ he was a greeting card candy cupid. ’

‛ there was a blizzard, it was twenty below. ’

‛ she was 15, clean, lonely and stupid, and as pure as the virgin snow. ’

‛ he pulled her in from the storm and the fire was warm. she didn’t have the nerve to say no. ’

‛ she didn’t have the nerve to say no. ’

‛ beat her till she’s black and blue and gray. ’

‛ draw a little heart. draw a little arrow. draw a little blood. ’

‛ v-v-v-valentine’s day. ’

‛ red wine, waterford crystal. chocolate kisses and lace. ’

‛ knives and chains and a pistol mounted on a wall, like scars on a face. ’

‛ he said he liked to play rough as he locked the handcuff. she knew it’d be tough to escape. ’

‛ she knew it’d be tough to escape. ’

‛ february winter in her heart. ’

‛ i said i’d show her normal love. she said, ‘too late to start.’ ’

‛ she said, ‘too late to start.’ ’

‛ now her fashion is basically leather. favorite color is basically red. ’

‛ and her passions change like the weather, as she dances from bed to bed to bed. ’

‛ and she feels like a fool, but she likes her men cruel. ’

‛ i doubt she’ll be cool till she’s dead. ’

WHITE MALE WORLD.

‛ bryant gumbel, decaf coffee, french vanilla ultra slim. ’

‛ pert shampoo with extra body, clinique, neutrogena. ’

‛ hey, madonna. ho, madonna, hey. ’

‛ stay-free, yeast-x, estee lauder. ’

‛ estee lauder, revlon, calvin klein’s obsession. ’

‛ advil, ultra-brite, no nonsense. ’

‛ diamonds are forever. ’

‛ it’s just another day. just another day. ’

‛ just another day in the white male world.  ’

‛ salad bar, no! candy bar. ’

‛ yes. candy bar, no! salad bar. ’

‛ diet coke, no! diet rite. ’

‛ cellulite or cancer? ’

‛ yes sir, no sir. ’

‛ holly hunter, melanie griffith, meryl streep. ’

‛ spandex, reeboks. ’

‛ taylor dayne, stairmaster, oprah winfrey. ’

‛ let’s cut down a jungle. ’

‛ let’s go start a war. ’

‛ let’s go rape a co-ed. ’

‛ what a lovely thing to do! ’

‛ let’s drink beer and bust some heads. ’

‛ let’s all vote for jesse helms. ’

‛ let’s string up a faggot and a black guy and a jew. ’

‛ evian water, black lace push-up, billiard table, dirty words. ’

‛ skinny blue jeans, skimpy t-shirt. ’

‛ husband hunting, binge & purge. ’

‛ open your mouth and open your legs and open your purse. now – where’s the trojan? ’

‛ now – where’s the trojan? ’

‛ wait! don’t stop! too late, he’s finished. ’

‛ what if men got pregnant? ’

LA DI DA RAP.

‛ we all should be drinkin’ to abraham lincoln and get stinkin’ drunk in his name. ’

‛ it’s a good thing he’s dead cause he’d cry his eyes red, hang his head if he saw this campaign. ’

‛ singing hey la di la di, hey la di da day. ’

‛ lincoln! here’s mud in your eye. ’

‛ are we past our prime? or is this the time to climb from the slime, make america great. ’

‛ are we so hollow that we blindly follow and swallow whatever they put on our plate? ’

‛ just sing no! ’

‛ to handlers, sound bytes, madison avenue, cynical hollywood, la di da pictures. ’

‛ tabloids, images, wrapped up facts in relation, slim control. ’

‛ la di da you drama la di da de da de la di da. ’

‛ pour some ales for old roger ailes and danny quayle’s his protégé. ’

‛ in ‘96 his looks, his tricks make tricky dick’s crime passe. ’

‛ i’ve had it up to here. ’

‛ here’s mud in your eye! ’

IRON MIKE.

‛ on a starry black night at the base of mount hogan, beyond horsetail creek and anderson bay. ’

‛ from the port of valdez sailed a ship, bound for long beach. ’

‛ over one million barrels of crude stowed away. ’

‛ to the left of the wheel in the bridge of the upper deck under the compass, was he. ’

‛ navigation computer, the captain and fisherman’s friend who could steer perfectly. ’

‛ they called him iron mike. ’

‛ in the dead of the night he steered the way through the darkness. ’

‛ iron mike didn’t see the red light on the reef. ’

‛ he’d been known to throw back one or two. ’

‛ yet no one thought twice when he set autopilot and retired below with the crew. ’

‛ from the two am stillness came the cry of the third mate. ’

‛ someone better go wake up the chief! ’

‛ yet by then it was too late. ’

‛ the starboard tanks had 12 foot gashes cut out by bligh reef. ’

‛ the forget-me-nots cried and the salmon all died and the fisherman wore black armbands. ’

‛ and the spokesmen from exxon said, ‘no major damage,’ though six million gallons remain in the sands. ’

‛ and from rocky point down to mount freemantle, you can still see the black film on the soil. ’

‛ and the echoes rebound throughout prince william sound of half frozen animals, choking in oil. ’

‛ who’s at the helm of this ship of state? ’

‛ we’ve in for some rough navigation. ’

‛ we have the power – the hour is late. ’

‛ gotta get tough and clean up the nation. ’

‛ black rainbows of exxon lightgrade again flowed, like hot fudge in a big apple spill. ’

‛ the detection machine had malfunctioned quite often, repair procedure so hard to enforce. ’

‛ and down on prall’s island, the cleanup begins. ’

‛ and the horror continues till we chart our own course. ’

‛ it’s the dead of the night. ’

‛ we can steer a new way through the darkness. ’

‛ we must see the light for relief. ’

FIND THE KEY.

‛ she’s walking, he’s sitting. ’

‛ he plays a dark c-minor chord. ’

‛ it’s like the keyboard is his heart. ’

‛ he hears the clock, he hugs the cat. ’

‛ he hugs the cat… no. he kicks the cat. ’

‛ he pumps the volume higher. ’

‛ a fire’s just about to start. ’

‛ why can’t, why can’t i? ’

‛ why can’t i, why can’t i find the key? ’

‛ why can’t i find the key? ’

‛ door closes – he freezes. ’

‛ he sees it’s hard to end duets. ’

‛ he lets his fingers feel the way. ’

‛ he loves her, he’s lost her. ’

‛ he’s hearing melancholy strings that sing the things that he can’t say. ’

‛ he can’t imagine what he should have said. ’

‛ it’s all been said and sounds cliché. ’

‛ he’s at the bridge between his head which says, ‘it’s dead,’ and his heart which says, ‘don’t let her get away.’ ’

‛ she’s gone now. he’s singing. ’

‛ he’s singing. he hears no two part harmony. ’

‛ he hears no two part harmony. ’

‛ he looks around – this can’t be real. ’

‛ this can’t be real. ’

‛ depression, a dark progression. ’

‛ why can he only sing it? ’

‛ what will it take to make him feel? ’

‛ and then somehow it ends. ’

HOSING THE FURNITURE.

‛ hello my lucite coffee table. someone spill a little milk on you? ’

‛ tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. ’

‛ one – more – twist! that’s better now. ’

‛ silly little me, me, me, me, me, me, me! ’

‛ i’m singing in the living room. ’

‛ what’s the time? fifteen minutes. ’

‛ pour the bleach, put the finishing touches on the dinner. ’

‛ the dog – the dog – the dog. still outside. ’

‛ my nails! my god! a chip! ’

‛ tom likes wonder bread with turkey. ’

‛ tom was preoccupied last night. ’

‛ is it me? is it – ’

‛ do i have enough milk? ’

‛ oh stain stain, down the drain. ’

‛ i can see myself in the coffee table, pretty as i was on my wedding day. ’

‛ pretty as i was on my wedding day. ’

‛ i’m as pretty as the coffee table. we’re so pretty! ’

‛ we’re so pretty! ’

‛ ah! what? you scared me. ’

‛ who were you talking to? ’

‛ who? no one. ’

‛ what’s all this? ’

‛ why are you acting so weird? ’

‛ you know i’m hosing the furniture. ’

‛ and when i hose, i sing to myself. ’

‛ who do you think cleans up? some elf? ’

‛ no sweeping – no mops. in no time it’s wheeeeee! ’

‛ when i’m hosing the furniture i’m free. ’

‛ i’m free – i’m free! ’

‛ now run along and play – i’m concentrating. ’

‛ you know your father likes to come home to that ‘just decorated look’... ’

‛ raindrops are falling on my couch! ’

‛ what’s the time? thirty minutes! ’

‛ martinis, cut the flowers for the dinner. ’

‛ the dog – the dog – the dog. hasn’t been fed. ’

‛ my hair! my god! a gray hair! ’

‛ tom likes onion cocktails. ’

‛ tom nodded off again last night. ’

‛ i get treated like dirt! ’

‛ i can see myself in the drapery. ’

‛ am i pretty as i was on my wedding day? ’

‛ am i pretty as the drapery? are we pretty? ’

‛ are we pretty? ’

‛ don’t you care? ’

‛ do i look mad? my happiness grows! ’

‛ who needs dad when i’ve got the hose! ’

‛ this house is a reflection of me – modern, graceful, easy, simple – synthetic. ’

‛ modern, graceful, easy, simple – synthetic. ’

‛ in everything i see my reflection. ’

‛ do i really look so simply pathetic? ’

‛ what? pull the trigger! ’

‛ soon it’s gonna rain on the bookshelf. ’

‛ what’s the time? 120 minutes. ’

‛ dry turkey, look relaxed for the dinner. ’

‛ the dog – the dog – the dog. the dog died last year! ’

‛ my blouse! my god! a crumb! ’

‛ i can see myself in the television. ’

‛ i was pretty on my wedding day. ’

‛ i was pretty as a television. we were pretty. ’

‛ we were pretty. ’

‛ a minor flood never hurt anyone! ’

‛ sometimes i wish this hose were a gun. ’

‛ just joking – see, i’m laughing. ’

PURA VIDA

‛ we are the people. ’

‛ we are the people who float on the river. ’

‛ we run up to the hill, we run down to the water. ’

‛ birds laugh and the sun, she smiles. ’

‛ and the trees, they dance in the wind. ’

‛ we race against time. ’

‛ we race for pure life. ’

‛ we need the people. ’

‛ we need the people who live on the river. ’

‛ find a pace, find a speed. ’

‛ nowhere to stop in big water. ’

‛ fish fly and the rocks play games and the trees sing out in the wind. ’

‛ sing in harmony. ’

‛ can we endure this race? ’

‛ can this race endure? ’

‛ we need the people who live in the forest. ’

‛ ‘ust there be finish lines? ’

‛ can’t the world drum like the water? ’

‛ the rivers will dry, and the birds will die. ’

‛ and the ghosts of the trees will cry out in the wind. ’

THE TRUTH IS A LIE.

‛ the berlin wall wasn’t destroyed, it was dismantled brick by brick. ’

‛ it was dismantled brick by brick. ’

‛ it was dismantled brick by brick and reconstructed on capitol hill, on the congressional floor. ’

‛ the money spent on one stealth bomber couldn’t wipe out homelessness. ’

‛ george bush never said, ‘read my lips.’ ’

‛ the peace dividend didn’t pay for the war. ’

‛ don’t look out the window. don’t go to the mirror. don’t you know what you will see? ’

‛ don’t you know what you will see? ’

‛ martin luther king and the kennedys were fictional players in a mini-series, just like charles manson and princess grace. ’

‛ bensonhurst was a publicity stunt. ’

‛ aids is a myth, first amendment’s fake. ’

‛ the sun revolves around the earth and the holocaust never took place. ’

‛ the truth is a lie! ’

‛ love does not exist between consenting members of the same sex. ’

‛ two plus two is five. ’

‛ the human body is revolting. ’

‛ we always will thrive. ’

‛ children don’t learn to hate from their parents. they catch it like german measles. ’

‛ they catch it like german measles. ’

‛ the moon is cheese and everyone should own a gun. ’

‛ women ask to be black and blue and pregnant their entire lives. ’

‛ the earth is flat and the white man knows what’s best for everyone. ’

‛ don’t you know what you might see? ’

‛ don’t look at the picture. don’t go to the theater. don’t you know what you will see? ’

RHAPSODY.

‛ i turn a corner, see a rat in the rubble as i try with all my might to put it out of mind. ’

‛ as i try with all my might to put it out of mind. ’

‛ i step on some budweiser glass. a limousine drives by. ’

‛ a rich man turns a corner, sees a rat in the rubble. ’

‛ he raises his smile glass window and reads the wall street journal. ’

‛ sky’s not free. river’s not free. i’m not free. life’s not free. ’

‛ life’s not free in the city. ’

‛ i’m told i too must wear a tie or they’ll fire me from my boring nothing job. ’

‛ i guess a tie is the ornament of establishment. ’

‛ i guess a tie is the ornament of establishment, though it seems to me to be more of a leash than a bow. ’

‛ though it seems to me to be more of a leash than a bow. ’

‛ so many people hounded to the pound. ’

‛ so many people collared to the dollar. ’

‛ okay, freedom is a state of mind. i agree. ’

‛ but i need the elements to remind me why. ’

‛ but i need the elements to remind me why with all this steel and concrete and noise about money. ’

‛ with all this steel and concrete and noise about money. honey, you get tunnel vision. ’

‛ honey, you get tunnel vision. ’

‛ you forget that there’s earth below the subway and beyond the ‘scrapers, there’s sky. ’

‛ i plan a day in the country with you. ’

‛ having gotten home from work last night at 12:30 am. ’

‛ having fallen asleep last night at 3:30 am because i couldn’t shut down my mind. ’

‛ because i couldn’t shut down my mind. ’

‛ the city never sleeps. ’

‛ as the phone rang this morning, your sweet was calling, i looked at that clock. ’

‛ how i hate that damn clock. ’

‛ i excuse myself from our date. ’

‛ see, i had to be back by mid-afternoon. ’

‛ and i know these are lame excuses and i’m so damn sorry. ’

‛ i’m so damn sorry. ’

‛ i know it’s important, but i feel like i’ve gotten my priorities beaten out of me. ’

‛ but i feel like i’ve gotten my priorities beaten out of me. ’

‛ but i feel like i’ve gotten my priorities beaten out of me with a rolled-up new york times. ’

‛ and this leash keeps tanking on my tie. ’

‛ i love ‘rhapsody in blue’ too. it’s just that he was rich when he wrote it. ’

‛ it’s just that he was rich when he wrote it. ’

‛ and only the rats, the roaches, the rubble and the rich men are free in the city. ’

SOS.

‛ this may be my final message. ’

‛ this may be the final bow. ’

‛ i’m sure i don’t know what will happen. ’

‛ i’m sure i don’t know what will happen. does it matter anyhow? ’

‛ does it matter anyhow? ’

‛ i hear footsteps down the hall. ’

‛ don’t know how much they’ll allow. ’

‛ if you’re waiting for the last reel, i think the time is now. ’

‛ i think the time is now. ’

‛ sos, oh, savior! ’

‛ sos, oh, hero! ’

‛ sos, messiah! ’

‛ yes, oh yes, oh! ’

‛ sos, oh jesus! ’

‛ sos, oh buddhal! ’

‛ sos, emmanuel!  ’

‛ this may be my final hour. ’

‛ this may be the dying day. ’

‛ though they never taught me why in school, i think i’m learning how to pray. ’

‛ i think i’m learning how to pray. ’

‛ they are right outside the door. ’

‛ don’t know why they keep on stalling. ’

‛ i know you’ve heard this all before. ’

‛ i know you’ve heard this all before, but it’s the last time that i’m calling. ’

‛ but it’s the last time that i’m calling. ’

‛ sos, almighty! ’

‛ sos, oh yahwah! ’

‛ sos, oh mighty zeus! ’

‛ sos, oh allah! ’

‛ does anybody hear? ’

‛ does anybody hear? answer me now if you do. ’

‛ answer me now if you do. ’

‛ is anybody there? ’

‛ is anybody there? i need you. ’

‛ i need you. ’

‛ this may be the curtain call. ’

‛ does it matter anymore? ’

‛ i asked why. that’s why i say make a try. it’s only a play. ’

‛ that’s why i say make a try. ’

‛ it’s only a play. ’

LOVE HEALS.

‛ like a breath of midnight air. ’

‛ like a lighthouse, like a prayer. ’

‛ like a flicker and the flare the sky reveals. ’

‛ like a walk along the shore that you’ve walked a thousand times before. ’

‛ like the ocean roars, love heals. ’

‛ there are those who shield their heart. ’

‛ those who quit before they start. ’

‛ who’ve frozen up the part of them that feels. ’

‛ in the dark they’ve lost their sight, like a ship without a star in the night. ’

‛ but it’s alright. love heals. ’

‛ love heals when pain’s too much to bear. ’

‛ when you reach out your hand and only the wind is there. ’

‛ when life’s unfair, when things like us are not meant to be. love heals. ’

‛ when you feel so small like a grain of sand, like nothing at all. ’

‛ when you look out at the sea. that’s where love will be. ’

‛ that’s where love will be. ’

‛ that’s where you’ll find me. ’

‛ you’ll find me. ’

‛ so if you fear the storm ahead as you lie awake in bed. ’

‛ no one there to stroke your head and your mind reels. ’

‛ if your face is salty wet and you’re drowning in regret, just don’t forget. ’

‛ don’t forget. ’

‛ don’t forget love heals. ’

‛ love heals. ’

PIANO.

‛ when the world is a constant jumble and a wall or two decides to tumble. ’

‛ when i think i’m at the end of the line. ’

‛ when i think i’m at the end of the line, somehow i get to you in time. ’

‛ somehow i get to you in time. ’

‛ somehow i get through to you in time. ’

‛ oh piano, you saved my soul again. ’

‛ you saved my soul again. ’

‛ oh piano, you saved my soul, amen. ’

‛ you saved my soul, amen. ’

‛ i may not play like a concert man, but i got a song to sing. ’

‛ but i got a song to sing. ’

‛ i may not play like a concert man, but i got soul. ’

‛ but i got soul. ’

‛ piano, save my soul. ’

[artificialqueens]

Now With Moving Parts (Trixya) - OkayMary

Trixie and Katya are neighbors and best friends. Trixie is celebrating her 13th birthday, trying to impress the popular girls. When she makes a wish that comes true, she struggles with her new life while trying to hold on to her past.

Guys it’s basically just 13 Going on 30 but gay.

Read and Comment on AO3

Picture day, 2002. Trixie sat timidly on a stool in the middle of her school’s cafeteria. She was placed in front of a backdrop painted to look like the sky. She had her heart set on wearing her favorite pink velour tracksuit that she worked hard to bedazzled a T on all by herself. Her mom, however, had other plans. She made her wear this itchy pink and purple striped sweater her grandma knitted her for last Christmas.

The fact that she had to change her outfit last minute left her no time to do her hair. She had to settle for her day old curls that hung around her face, slightly frizzy and flat in some spots. She pinned back some of the front pieces, just keep it out of her face.

“Okay little lady, I’ll take your ticket.” The camera man said walking up to Trixie. He adjusted her seating and posture before returning to his camera. “Now, look right up at the camera, okay? Nice smile. Here we go Tracy 1, 2…”

“It’s Trixie.”

“Look over here, Tracy”

“It’s Trixie!” –CLICK! And just like that, Trixie’s school photo was taken.

“Oh god, I can’t be remembered looking like this.” Trixie grabbed her photos from the table outside the cafeteria. She’s looks mad, her hair was wild and the sweater looked just as itchy as it felt. Not really the Barbie dream girl she was hoping to look like.

She started walking down the hall, sulking, when a small and energetic blonde came up behind Trixie with camera in hand. She slung her arm around Trixie’s shoulder, pulled her close and took a photo of the two of them.

“Smile Trix!”

“Ugh, Katya, no more photos today.” Trixie hid her photos against her body and looked down in shame, not even wanting to ask Katya about her photos.

Katya wore a shirt that said “I’m a Woman’ on it and red pants with white pinstripes. Her long blonde hair cascaded down in effortless waves. She’s so pretty without trying and it makes Trixie so mad and even jealous sometimes.

“Oh come on, it’s your 13th birthday. You’re never going to be this young and perky again. We gotta document it.” Katya is bouncing next to Trixie as they stand in front of lockers lining the school hall.

The hall clears a path and a group of girls make their way toward Trixie and Katya.

“Hey Farrah” Trixie says to the girl at the front of the pack. She’s like a tiny Christina Aguilera. If she could do a full Dirrty look, Trixie’s sure she would but they’re in 8th grade and not even Farrah is that bold.

“Hi Mattel. So how’d yours come out?” She replied, gesturing toward the photo in Trixie’s hands.

“Oh yeah, can’t say they’re my favorite.” Trixie keeps the photos hidden against her body.

“Yeah, mine aren’t so hot either. I could do better”

“Shut up Farrah, you look like a model!” One of her minions, Valentina, reply.

“Trix, I’ll meet you out front.” Katya rolled her eyes and pushed through the crowd. Katya may be just as pretty as the popular girls but she would never be a part of their group. They thought she was weird and Katya thought they we’re basic robots.

“Anyway, Trixie could I talk to you a tiny sec?” Farrah pulled Trixie away from the rest of the group.

“So I told Bob that me and the Dolls were going to your party and he said he wanted to come with. It’s really too bad we can’t make it because we really wanted to be there, didn’t we girls” Farrah turns to her friends who are all nodding in agreement.

“It’s just, Ms. Davis is really up our butts with this group project and Bob is going to help so he can’t go either.”

“Well, if it’s really that much of a problem, I could write your report for you.” Trixie offers up.

“Thanks gorge!” Farrah waves and walks away with her friends in tow.

Trixie met Katya outside of the school and they started their walk home together, just like they do everyday.

 “Honestly Trixie, I can’t believe you invited that witch and her flying monkeys to your party.”

 “Katya, they’re kinda my friends. Or at least one day I’ll be part of that group so maybe you should start being nicer.”

 “Gross, I will absolutely do no such thing. They don’t appreciate my amazing fashion sense or my stunning resemblance to Julia Roberts so they’re basically dead to me.”

 “I just want to be one of the cool girls Katya, can you just let me have that?” The two them stop in front of their homes that sat side by side.

 “They are unoriginal Trix, like dumb, poorly programed robots. You are the cool one.” Katya pulled a bag of candy out of her jacket pocket, “Would you like some Razzles?”

 “Will you leave me alone if I say yes” Trixie giggled and held her hand out.

 Katya poured some Razzles into Trixie’s hand before crossing the drive way toward her house.

 “Da svidania!” Katya yelled from her yard while snapping one last photo of Trixie.

 “Au revoir!” Trixie replied before heading into her house next door.

Trixie sat in her mirror applying more pink blush to her cheeks, double checking the wings of her eyeliner and making sure her curls sat just right around her face. She had Dolly Parton playing on her TV in the background, bopping about to the music as she got ready for her party. Maybe a little inspired by Dolly, Trixie stuffed a handful of tissues down the top of her sparkly pink dress to make her boob look like they actually exist.

 “Hey, sweetie! Happy birthday!” Her mom barges in her room with balloons. How’s your new life as a teenager? Is this blush? Are you wearing a bra?”

 “God mom, you’re being so embarrassing! Get out!” Trixie shouted before flopping herself face down into her bed. “I look rotted. I hate my life.”

 Trixie’s mom sits next to Trixie on her bed, “Bee, you’re not rotted, whatever that means. You’re beautiful in your own way. Plus, you’re still young. You have time to grow.”

 Trixie sat up and grabbed the magazine sitting at the foot of her bed, “I want to look like these women mom. Look, ‘Thirty, Flirty and Thriving. Why the 30s are the best years of your life’. I need to be older to be beautiful and successful. For god sakes, Dolly didn’t even write Jolene or I Will Always Love You until she was like 28! I just wish I was older.“

 “Well, you will be, honey but you just turned 13 so let’s get through that first.

Trixie finished setting up for her party down in the basement and turned on some music as she waited for her guests to arrive. Waterloo by ABBA started playing and she broke out into a full performance, choreography and all.

ABBA is her mom’s favorite band so she grew up dancing around to them daily. There was something about their 1974 hit single Waterloo that spoke to Trixie. Her whole childhood, Trixie not only made Katya watch her perform it constantly, but she also made her learn a choreographed dance with finger points and leg kicks. It was her happy song.

Katya came down the stairs carrying a huge cardboard box with a neat pink ribbon around it. She stopped and smiled at Trixie’s dancing before making herself known.

Katya was the only person besides family that Trixie would sing in front. Sure she wanted to be a singer one day. She just watched Kelly Clarkson win American Idol and was sure that would be her one day but for now she kept it under wraps.

“Happy birthday! I come barring gifts and yes, I am part of the gift, your welcome”

Trixie helps Katya with the box, setting it down on a near by table. “What is it?”

Katya’s eyes light up, “You know how you always wanted a Barbie Dream House?” Trixie nodded as she lifted the box, “Well, I decided to make you your own Trixie Dream House! Now you can fully live your Barbie fantasy!”

“You made all of this?” Trixie was in awe of the work put in to this gift, “And it’s not like a haunted house with like baby hands or creepy witches?”

“Yes! See, that’s you in your bubble bath, writing a song. And there’s your bedroom, pink of course, with a massive stereo and every Yee Haw record ever made.” Katya points out every little detail of the house.

“And there’s that bum Paul Rudd just loafing on the couch and there I am, to make sure that no funny business happens.” Trixie laughs at Katya’s over the top explanation but admires the work.

“Oh, almost forgot. I got you this hocus pocus magic wishing dust. I don’t really think it’ll work, duh, but it says, ‘This wishing dust knows what’s in your heart of hearts. It’ll make all your dreams come true.’ So it’s worth a shot.” Katya sprinkled it on top of the house.

“This is amazing Katya, I really appreciate it. Thank you.” The door bell rang and Trixie jumped up frantically “Oh my god! The Dolls are here. What do we do?” She straightened out her dress and turned up the music. She ran back over to the dream house and ran to the closet with it.

 “Kat, I’m just going to put this away okay, gotta make room for dancing and whatever.” Trixie ran upstairs to get the door.

Trixie’s little sister is standing by the door, getting ready to let the guests in. “You promised you’d stay upstairs!” She pushed her toward her mom and answered the door. All 6 of the doll stood there, “Hey guys, party’s downstairs,” with Farrah leading the way, one by one they walked inside, throwing their jackets into Trixie’s arms.

“Oh wow, okay yeah, see you down there” Just then, Bob and his friends pull up and walk toward the door.

 “Hi, glad you can make it, party’s downstairs!” Trixie fluttered her eye and tossed her hair over her shoulder hoping to be giving off flirty vibes. They guys just nod and walk through and head downstairs.

Downstairs, Katya is trying to get the party started by wiggling around to some Russian rock song she’s fully aware that nobody knows but that doesn’t stop her from having a good time.

 Everyone else is standing around staring at her like she some kind of street preforming monkey.

 Farrah walks over to Trixie who’s also just staring at Katya thrashing herself around, “What is this music.”

 “I don’t know, Katya put it on.”

 Farrah moves over to Katya, took the CD out of the player and handed it to her. “Sorry weirdo but majority rules and the majority of us say this sucks.” Farrah put on some generic pop music and Katya walked over to Trixie.

 “Hey so I’m just gonna go next door and grab something.” Katya was clearly over the party but didn’t want Trixie to feel like she was bailing on her.

 Trixie looked over at Farrah and her friends before replying, “Cool Katya, it’s not like I need an itinerary of your day.”

Katya was visibly upset that Trixie was being dismissive and Trixie felt bad when she saw Katya’s face but the room erupted into laughter and she felt too cool to care. Katya just rolled her eyes and headed up the stairs.

 “So I have a great idea, lets play 7 minutes in heaven” Farrah spoke, taking back the control of the room. “In fact, Trixie can go first because it’s her birthday!” Farrah tied a scarf around Trixie’s eye and led her toward the closet. “Bob wants to go first so you’ll get to do whatever you want with him for 7 whole minutes” she whispered to Trixie.

 Farrah placed Trixie in the closet, “Before I forget, where’s our project?”

 “On the table by the stairs”

 “Thanks gorge” and Farrah closed the door with Trixie inside.

 Farrah tip-toes back to the group, project in hand. “Let’s get out of here, I can get my brother to buy us beer.” Farrah whispers and the group quietly makes their way upstairs.

 On their way out, they run into Katya. “Um, what’s going on? Where’s Trixie?” Katya asks.

 “Oh she’s waiting for you in the closet but I think she should just come out.” Farrah giggles at her own joke. “Bye lezbo!” and she ran out the door to catch up with her group.

 Katya walks over to the closet and opens it to see a blindfolded Trixie sitting on the floor.

“I thought you weren’t gonna come.” Trixie says with a sly smile. Katya doesn’t reply, instead she’s joins Trixie on the floor. Does Trixie really feel the same way about her as she felt about her?

 Trixie reach out and Katya grabs her hands and slowly leans forward, “Oh Bob” Trixie calls out causing Katya to jump back.

 “I’m not Bob, It’s Katya.”

Trixie yanks off her blindfold and looks around and see only Katya. “Where did everyone go? What did you do? Did you scare them off?”

 “They where leaving when I came back from my house!”

 “Get out! Get out! I hate you! I hate me! I hate everybody!” Trixie closed herself into the closet and sunk down to the floor.

 “Trixie what are you talking about? Let me just show you our other gift. It’ll make you feel better.” Katya tries to reason with her through the door.

 Trixie slams her back into the shelves behind her and magic dust falls on her from the dream house as she repeats, “I wanna be 30. Thirty and flirty and thriving.”

[luvrgirl555]

i hate (Roger Taylor x Reader) (10 things) part two

hey, sisters welcome to part two. let me know if you like it or maybe even want to be tagged? this could be up to four parts. i love receiving comments and asks it makes my heart so happy!! happy reading and happy listening to my favorite rockstars. imagine whichever roger you like. 

fluff

1.1k+ words

warnings: none really

editing: kinda

 I hate your big dumb combat boots

“dear god, roger, those are insufferable,” you laughed as he pulled on his shoes. 

“i have to make a good impression, i’m going on a date with a pretty girl tonight,” he said as his eyes trailed your body.

your light blue dress hugged your body so well that he wanted to melt.

“well maybe not those. those are god-awful,” you rolled your eyes.

his brown and black combat boots with an obnoxious design made you laugh as he exclaimed, “these were a good 400 pounds, y/n!” 

“stop wasting your money on ugly clothes and take me out,” you whispered as he pulled you close for a hug.

his hands trailed down your body and stopped at your bum, “or we could-?” he started and you pulled away.

“later, loverboy,” you teased and pecked his lips playfully, “but you won’t get anything unless you change your shoes.”

And the way you read my mind

ever since your car had broken down roger had been giving you a ride to and from work.

today had been a particularly awful day, old men constantly swatting at your skirt like children and your boss being an insufferable asshole, as usual.

all you wanted to do was go home and cry, but since your roommate had been bringing boys over every night you could never have the luxury of privacy.

when roger drove up you could tell he’d been at the studio all day. he smelled of cigarettes and was listening to the radio on high volume. you huffed before getting in the car and sighing. head in your hands.

“you alright, love?” he turned down the music. “well, what a dumb question for me to ask, huh? obviously not.” 

he was basically just talking to himself and before he moved the car he took off his jacket to give to you. he’d done that the past few nights, as winter was approaching and he knew you had a habit of forgetting your sweater.

“boss again?” he asked quietly and you looked up to him. your eyes teary.

“how did you know?” you asked, trying to hold back tears.

“luck, i guess,” he tried to laugh but you just stared, your lower lip protruding and eyes getting low. 

“oh, darling, please don’t cry,” he said sweetly and reached over to grab your hands gently. tears rolled down your face freely as you hiccuped softly. “dear god, freddie always said i was shit when girls cry.”

your eyes met his and he wiped the tears from your cheeks, “you’re doing okay,” you whispered.

“stay with me tonight?” he asked. 

“how do you always know, rog?”

I hate the way you're always right

“we didn’t do anything! we were just talking!” you yelled frustratedly as roger sat on the couch, still fuming angry.

“he wanted to get in your pants and you know it!” he tried to contain his temper.

“so, you’re the only man i’m allowed to talk to, is it? you constantly have girls on your arm and i say nothing because i thought that all we were was nothing!” you closed your eyes. 

his jaw clenched and heart broke.

“i want to be more,” he finally exclaimed.

“you? roger meaddows taylor? roger ‘i have commitment issues’ taylor wants to be more than my fuckbuddy?” your eyes were staring daggers into his.

“don’t you want that too?” he asked softly.

you just looked at him before bring your hands to head.

“y-yes. i do. i just never thought you did. god, i hate how much you know me,” you looked at the ground.

he pulled you onto him on the sofa.

“i want to know everything about you,” he whispered, the hair on your neck stood up. 

you turn and straddle him so each of your legs is on a side of him. he places his hands on your thighs.

“i want to know you too,” you whisper getting closer to his mouth.

“so, you’ll be mine?” 

he voice was small. he was scared.

“yes, dear,” you melted into his frame as he held you close. “i’d want nothing more.”

I hate it when you lie

for three weeks roger had been lying about something. you knew it. you could feel it in your heart. the late nights were “band practice,” like he’d said a hundred times before. 

ever since you’d gotten together you unofficially lived together. you were always at his place and had almost moved everything over from your flat downtown. 

you felt you had no place to question him, and maybe if you said something he wouldn’t let you live with him anymore.

you loved waking up next to him every morning with no clothes on. you loved the way he gave you morning kisses. you loved the way his eyes looked at you like you were stars in the sky. 

but one night he came home and you turned to look at the clock next to his bed. his bed. 

it was 1:47 am and he tried to be as quiet as possible. you just kept lying under the covers as he snuck into the room. 

you heard him strip down to his boxers and sigh before getting in bed beside you.

you sniffled before letting tears roll down your face. he quickly turned to you. 

“y/n?” he asked softly.

you didn’t understand. he didn’t smell like other women. he didn’t reek of booze. he didn’t have hickeys from anyone else besides you. 

“love, are you okay? are you sick?” he seemed genuinely worried. 

“rog, i-i need to talk to you. just, please don’t lie?” you tried to keep your breathing steady. 

“i would never-” he started. “y/n what is this about?”

“why are you gone all the time? and don’t say band rehersals. i asked veronica. she said john is home every night,” you sniffled while stared into your eyes sadly.

he pulled you close to his chest. “i’m so sorry, shall i ruin the surprise?” he asked quietly.

you lied there in his arms, your eyes making his chest wet with tears.

“what surprise?” you asked finally.

“well that means i did a good job hiding it then,” he laughed and looked at you softly. “i got us a flat. a bigger one. so we can live together. permanently.” 

you looked up at him in bed as his face broke out into a smile.

“me and bri have been moving stuff there the past few weeks after rehearsals. freddie chose all the decor. even john helped out some days, but of course we already know he has veronica to go home to,” he teased. “now can you stop crying?” he asked.

you laughed softly before replying with a deep kiss.

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Finger Painting

Author: MyChosenWords

Year: 2009

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Mike/Dave

The entrance to Dave’s flat is unexpectedly dark as Mike steps through the front door. He dumps the pile of borrowed CDs on the table and tucks Dave’s spare key into his pocket. From the basement he can hear the strains of what he can now confidently identify as Led Zeppelin. Grabbing two beers from the fridge he makes his way to the stairs.

“Dave!” he cries, not wanting to startle his friend.

“Hey Mikey!” Dave responds, “Bring us a beer would ya?”

“I’m way ahead of you mate,” Mike replies as he reaches the bottom step.

Dave is stood in the middle of the basement staring at a big white sheet that almost covers the entire floor. Cans of paint are scattered around the room along with an assortment of paintbrushes.

“Modern art this time? Very nice,” Mike comments, lifting one finger to his lips and tapping it in an exaggerated display of thoughtfulness, “I love how you’ve really captured the essence of nothingness. The absence of the paint is a great mirror for the absence of colour in our pathetic, meaningless existence isn’t it?”

Dave elbows him playfully and grabs his beer. “Fuck off.”

“What are you actually doing?”

“I’m supposed to be creating a backdrop for the live show. Noel had this idea about making these massive scrolling backdrops so we’re each painting one as a prototype.”

“So why aren’t you getting on with it? I mean, how hard can it be to paint a couple of trees and a hill?” Mike asks. Dave looks at Mike in a way that makes him once again curse the fact that Noel got all the creative talent and all he has is a lisp and the ability to stare at things for a long time without blinking. He’d give almost anything to be able to have a conversation with Dave about art and perspective and shadows without resorting to jokes or stupid questions but he’s completely out of his depth. Luckily Dave once again proves that he can read Mike like a book and begins to explain.

“Basically before I can start painting anything I need to know where we are going to be in relation to the backdrop. The size and position of the mountains is affected by whether we are close to them or far away.” Mike nods slowly in understanding.

“Want to help?”

The only thing stopping Mike from agreeing immediately is an overwhelming fear of somehow fucking it up. He has always enjoyed the company of the older man and usually jumps at the chance to spend time with him but Noel has been exceedingly grumpy lately and Mike doesn’t want to Dave to get the blame for something Mike has messed up. Dave picks up a paintbrush and wiggles it in Mike’s face.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he urges. With a sigh, Mike takes the offered paintbrush and turns to the tins of paint.

“Where do we start?”

Dave draws a rough outline on the sheet, pours some of the blue paint into a tray and puts Mike to work painting the sky. They work solidly for a good half an hour, Dave singing along to the music and Mike concentrating on not going too far outside the lines Dave has drawn. It’s actually quite relaxing and Mike can finally accept why Noel used to spend hours shut away listening to music and drawing. He finishes the last of the sky and is just about to stand up to admire his handiwork when his elbow catches the tin of green Dave was using for the trees and it tips over. He scrambles to pick up the tin but it is too late. Mike can only watch in horror as the green puddle slowly spreads across the sheet. Ashen-faced he turns to apologise to Dave but the other man is blinking tears of laughter out of his eyes and cackling. Dave’s amusement increases momentarily at the look on Mike’s face before he eventually softens.

“Don’t worry about it Michael, it’s only a practice.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“But you’ll have to do it all again!”

Dave shrugs. “So? It’s hardly a masterpiece Mike.”

“Fine. But let me clean it up. You can go get some more beers or something,” Mike insists.

Noticing that the paint is about to spill off the edges of the sheet, Mike rushes to his feet. In his haste he plants his foot firmly in the blue tray. Flecks of blue paint fly up into the air, raining down on Dave’s hair, face and clothes. Groaning, Mike covers his face with his hands and flushes a bright, burning red.

“Oh god, that’s it. I give up. I am fucking useless.” There’s a bitter note in his voice that quells the snigger that was bubbling inside of Dave.

Mike hears movement in front of him and the next moment Dave’s hands are peeling Mike’s away from his eyes.

“Hey, come on Mikey, it’s fine. I always wear old clothes when I’m painting anyway. And besides, it was pretty funny,” Dave soothes. Impulsively he leans in and plants a soft kiss on the tip of Mike’s nose.

When Mike finally opens his eyes Dave is grinning at him, the bright spots of paint highlighting his blue eyes. Despite his embarrassment Mike laughs. “Matches your eyes,” he remarks.

Dave studies him for a long moment and there’s a mischievous gleam in his eyes now. Very slowly he dips his finger into the brown paint and begins to draw on Mike’s cheek. Mike remains briefly still until he realises what Dave is drawing.

“Hey!” cries an outraged Mike. “That’s a bum. You’re drawing a fucking bum on my face!”

Dave collapses into childish giggles. Mike smudges the crude drawing until it’s just a brown blob. All sense of guilt or embarrassment forgotten, he bends down, drags his paintbrush through the escaped green paint and flings it at Dave. It hits him square on the chest and begins to run down his jeans. Mike yells in triumph but is quickly silenced when a splatter of red paint collides with his shoulder. Dave jumps out of the way as the green paint from Mike’s brush splatters against the wall.

Paintbrushes are soon abandoned in favour of more aggressive tactics. Dave chases Mike around the room and manages to plant a bright green handprint on his black hair. In retaliation Mike slaps a blue handprint onto Dave’s arse. Dave dips both his arms into the yellow paint and hurls himself at Mike. Unprepared for the impact, Mike falls, bringing Dave down with him. Dave attempts to get away but the paint is so slippery he simply falls unceremoniously on his arse. Mike is laughing so hard he can hardly see. When he finally calms down enough to take a good look around he is surprised by how strangely beautiful it is.

There is paint everywhere; on the floor, on the walls, even on the ceiling. The colours have mixed together and now there are oranges and purples and pinks as well as the colours they started with. In the middle of it all sits Dave, with bright purple hair and clothes drenched in every possible hue. Mike’s own clothes aren’t much better. There are two yellow lines underneath his arms from where Dave tackled him and the rest of his shirt is a garish polka dotted nightmare the likes of which even Noel would claim was ‘a bit much’. Mike gazes fondly at Dave, whose ability to make light of any situation has once again spared Mike from hours worth of angst and self-esteem issues. Dave shuffles closer to him and for a moment Mike thinks it might be time for round two but the other man merely wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him into a hug.

“Feel better now?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Mike replies.

Dave scans Mike’s face, looking for an unblemished patch of skin. He finds it at the corner of Mike’s left eye and kisses it.

“Good.”

Their eyes meet and before Mike can wonder what the hell he’s doing he closes the gap between them. Dave is quick to respond, chapped lips sliding leisurely over Mike’s. The paint has made their hair slippery and Mike has the deeply disturbing thought that this is kind of like what kissing Old Gregg would feel like but then Dave growls and Mike is jolted back to reality. He can’t imagine Old Gregg ever making such a masculine sound. Breathing eventually becomes a problem, forcing the two apart. They stare at each other with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“So...,” says Dave eventually, “This is new.”

“Yeah,” Mike exhales. His fingers are itching to reach out to any part of Dave they can reach but he can’t bring himself to do so without knowing, absolutely, that Dave wants this too.

There’s a splash of purple on Mike’s lower lip and Dave brushes it away with a surprisingly clean thumb. He leans in and kisses Mike so slowly it feels like time has somehow been manipulated.

“Good though,” Dave whispers as he pulls back to meet Mike’s eyes.

Mike can only nod mutely in response. He feels as though he’s travelling very fast through a dark tunnel. Everything around him is blurred but for Dave’s face. He is dimly aware of the music in the background and the smell of the paint. Dave is smiling at him affectionately, like you would a kitten playing with a ball of string, and Mike thinks that won’t do at all so he gets to his knees and turns so he can straddle Dave’s thighs. There’s a flash of lust in Dave’s eyes and he wraps his arms around Mike’s waist and pulls him down. For the first time Mike can feel how the situation is affecting Dave and it sends his head into even more of a spin.

“Mike,” Dave pants as Mike begins to softly grind himself down into Dave’s lap, “I know this is probably the worst idea I’ve ever had but I swear if I don’t have you right now I’m going to go insane.” He rounds off the statement by biting down on Mike’s earlobe, prompting the shorter man to yelp in pleasure and in pain.

“So take me,” Mike murmurs before nipping at Dave’s jaw. In a flash Dave’s hands are tangled in Mike’s hair and they are kissing again and Dave is thrusting up now and the room is filled with moans and breathless names. Dave shoves Mike off his lap but before Mike has a chance to complain he’s flat on his back with Dave’s body covering his own.  

When they were younger Noel used to come home with an assortment of bruises and a filthy grin and Mike could never understand how he got off on something that was clearly painful. But here in Dave’s basement with an unusually sharp paintbrush digging into his back and Dave pressing onto him from above Mike was starting to really enjoy the exhilaration of losing control. The moment their lips had touched Mike had forgotten all about the fact that Dave was his older brother’s best mate, or that they worked together and that things would undoubtedly change from that point on; all that mattered was that Dave didn’t push him away.  

Mike’s hands work frantically at the buttons on Dave’s shirt. When they finally reach the last one he reluctantly breaks their kiss to allow Dave to sit back on Mike’s hips and shrug the shirt off his shoulders. Dave hurriedly pulls the shirt off his arms and throws it behind his head. His hands now tug at the hem of Mike’s shirt and Mike raises his upper body slightly to allow Dave to slip it over his head. The shock of bare skin underneath their paint-stained clothes causes Mike to chuckle. Dave looks at him curiously but the look soon fades to desire as his gaze falls on the trail of dark hair leading down into Mike’s waistband. With a careful, cautious finger he traces a line down Mike’s chest before lavishing caresses on Mike’s nipples and hipbones. Mike bucks and whimpers beneath him and Dave can’t believe how good it feels to be the cause of such obvious pleasure. His fingers make quick work of the buttons on Mike’s jeans and pretty soon they break apart again to shed their remaining clothes.

Forgetting about his earlier bouts of clumsiness, Mike attempts to crawl seductively over to Dave. His right hand lands in a puddle of orange and slips quickly out from beneath him. As his chest crashes into the wet sheet he can hear Dave’s hysterical laughter and he feels himself blushing again. Mike rolls over onto his back and finds his body once again covered with Dave’s.

“You are absolutely the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” Dave whispers, stroking his fingers through Mike’s hair.

“I’m a clumsy git,” Mike grumbles, though he does turn his head to nuzzle Dave’s hand.

“You’re perfect,” Dave shoots back and then he’s kissing him again.

Dave’s tongue urges Mike’s lips open as his hips begin to move. The first brush of their naked erections elicits a moan from both men and Mike thrusts upwards to increase the pressure. If this were a different time and place Mike would take great pleasure in memorising every inch of Dave’s skin but they’re sliding all over the place as it is and Mike is so hard it hurts and if he doesn’t get some kind of relief soon he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Dave’s tongue maps every crevice of Mike’s mouth as his thrusts become less and less controlled.

“Fucking hell Mike,” he groans roughly into Mike’s ear.

“I’m close Dave,” Mike replies and is rewarded with a nip on the earlobe.

“Me too. Come with me?”

Mike nods and Dave buries his face in Mike’s neck, kissing his collarbone through the layers of paint. Mike arches his back as Dave’s hips slide once more over his own and then he’s coming hard onto Dave’s stomach. Dave is a mere second behind, panting Mike’s name like a mantra as he shudders above him. Still breathless he collapses on top of Mike.

“Fuck,” Mike sighs happily. Dave rolls over onto his back and grins.

“Not quite,” he retorts. “Maybe next time.” Mike wants to turn his head to check if Dave is pulling his leg but he can’t muster up the energy required so he merely lays back and hopes. The CD has stopped now and the only sound in the room is their shaky breathing as they attempt to regain normal breathing patterns.

It’s almost an hour later when Dave finally sits up. Mike’s eyes are closed, his mouth stretched into a soft smile, and he looks so relaxed that for a moment Dave thinks he’s fallen asleep. As soon as Dave stands up though Mike’s eyes flutter open and he gazes up at Dave contentedly. Dave’s face splits into a grin as he studies the mess they’ve made of the sheet.

“Check this out,” he says, motioning for Mike to stand up.

He does so, and laughs warmly at the sight. There is the distinct outline of Mike’s body smeared into the paint, Dave’s handprints on either side of his head and a series of smudges from where they had slid across the slippery sheet.

“Now that’s what I call modern art,” Dave remarks smugly. “You know, I’m thinking it could be part of a series.”

Mike raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Dave replies. “I’ve got plenty more sheets where that one came from.”

“Does this make me your muse?”

“Paintbrush more like.”

“It’s not quite as glamorous as being a muse but I suppose I’ll take it.”

“Hey Mike, get us a beer would ya?”

Mike turns obediently towards the stairs only to receive a playful slap on his still-bare bottom. “And don’t be too long,” Dave insists, “We’ve still got a backdrop to paint.”

Mike is standing in the queue at the supermarket when he gets the call. He hasn’t spoken to Dave for two days but that’s not unusual when they are preparing for a new tour. Dave is involved on so many different levels; he probably gets less sleep than even Noel or Julian. The rest of ‘That Afternoon’ passed without incident; they finished painting the backdrop and parted ways as if nothing had ever happened. He still isn’t sure whether they’ve completely ruined things between them or not. It doesn’t feel like a horrible mistake. In fact, it’s one of the best things to ever happen to Mike, but whether Dave feels the same or not Mike has no idea.

“Hi Dave,” he says, sandwiching the phone between his ear and shoulder whilst attempting to balance his armful of groceries.

“Hey Mike, how’s it going?”

“Not too bad. Yourself?”

“I’m alright thanks mate. Listen, have you got time to pop round tonight? I was hoping you could help me out with something.”

“Sure. What time?”

“Call it 7:30? There’s beer and wine in the fridge and I’ll rustle us up a pasta,” Dave suggests.

“Sounds great,” Mike replies. Dave’s been on his mind constantly since the other day and he’s both nervous and excited at what might happen the next time they are alone together. Plus, Dave is quite a good cook and this is likely to be the best meal he’ll eat all week.

The woman at the cash register smiles at Mike as he dumps his groceries on the counter. “Hot date?”

“Could be,” Mike replies with a wink.

Dave answers the door with bare feet and a wide grin and wraps Mike in a hug. “Good day?” he asks as he ushers Mike through the front door.

“Not bad. You?”

Dave runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Average. We met with the stage managers today.”

“And?”

“Total disaster. We tried the backdrops but the sheet keeps catching on all the other shit we need on the stage. Nearly ripped Noel’s to shreds.” Dave runs a hand over his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Ah. So no scrolling backdrops then?”

“Not at this stage,” Dave replies, “Beer?”

Mike follows Dave into the kitchen and grabs one of the free bar stools. Dave grabs two beers out of the fridge and slides one over to Mike. Garlic and onions are sizzling in a pan on the stove and Dave busies himself with preparing the other ingredients whilst chatting to Mike. They discuss their days in greater details and enthuse over the plans for the tour. Mike sets the table and puts some music on. It’s the kind of domestic familiarity you usually only see in the movies and Mike hadn’t realized he craved.

The pasta is simple but delicious. During the meal they fall into reminiscing about the last tour and it suddenly occurs to Mike that whatever does or does not happen between them, they will more than likely be sharing a room again for the duration of the tour. Julian has already announced his intentions to make frequent trips home to visit his family, prompting Noel to suggest that he share a room with Rich instead so that Julian can have one to himself. Julian was extremely grateful, and as Dave helpfully pointed out, Noel wouldn’t be spending much time in his room anyway. The conversation leads them to the Australia tour and their memories of their first night performing as part of The Boosh. Mike admits that he’ll never be able to repay Noel for the opportunity he gave him that night and Dave reassures him that his constant support of Noel is more than enough.

“You don’t realise how much he cares about you Mike and how much your opinion matters to him. He’s always looking out for you,” Dave insists.

“I know. I should tell him more often how much I appreciate him.”

Mike finishes the last of his wine and pushes the empty bowl of pasta into the middle of the table. “That was fantastic Dave. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” says Dave.

The conversation continues to flow easily and it’s nearly half-past nine when Dave finally pushes his chair away from the table and stands up purposefully. “Now...about that favour. Come on.”

Dave leads Mike to the stairs and motions for him to go in front. Suddenly nervous, Mike steps slowly down the stairs and into the basement. His stomach lurches as he steps into the room. The paint splatters have been cleaned off the walls and ceilings but they still litter the floor and Mike notices that the cans of paint have been gathered together on an old brown table. In the middle of the room, spread across the floor, is a large red sheet.

“See the thing is, I’ve still got all this paint left over,” comes Dave’s voice from just behind Mike’s ear. A hand, that trembles slightly though Mike doesn’t know it, reaches out and slides around his waist. “Paint with me?” Dave asks softly. Mike’s only answer is to press back into Dave’s embrace. That one simple question is the answer to all the questions that have been swirling through Mike’s head for the past couple of days. With that simple question all of Mike’s nerves disappear and he smiles warmly up at Dave in agreement.

Dave puts some music on and opens the tins of paint. Not even bothering with the charade of paintbrushes, he plunges a finger into the blue and begins to trace strange and intricate patterns on the sheet. Mike soon joins in, his yellow lines swirling and crisscrossing Dave’s blue. He can’t believe how easy it is to just sit and revel in the joy of finger painting. He feels like he’s five years old again, without a care in the world; except that a five-year-old boy surely wouldn’t notice the way Dave’s thin white shirt clings to his arms, or the way his tongue slips out to moisten his lips when he’s concentrating. They catch each other’s eye occasionally and there’s a tension building that they are both doing their best to nurture. There is none of the urgency of their last encounter; Mike knows he won’t be going home tonight so he promises himself that he will take the time to savour every moment.  

It’s almost forty minutes later when Dave makes the first move. The edges of the sheet have been covered with various blue and yellow patterns but the centre is still bare. He waits until Mike is looking at him and then slowly he tips the blue tin so that a little puddle forms in front of him. He plants both hands firmly in the paint before crawling over to Mike on his hands and knees. He stops just in front of the dark-haired man and waits. Mike smiles warmly at Dave and smoothes his hand over Dave’s forehead before leaning in and kissing him. Dave’s blue hands clasp Mike’s head as they kiss and Mike’s lips fall open under Dave’s eager tongue. When they part Mike knocks over his own tin of paint and pushes Dave so he’s laying in it. Dave laughs and pulls Mike on top of him, wrapping his arms around Mike’s waist and pressing their bodies together. Already Mike is rocking his hips into Dave’s erection, desperate for the friction. Dave’s hand squeezes his hip firmly as he matches Mike thrust for thrust. Afraid things might be going too fast, Dave flips them over and settles himself on Mike’s hips. Warm fingers wriggle under Mike’s shirt and Mike sits up so Dave can remove the offending garment. He dips his finger into the spilt paint and draws a big smiley face on Mike’s chest.

“So pretty,” Dave murmurs reverently.

“Shut up,” says Mike, blushing. He pushes up so that Dave slides off his hips and he can sit up, before pulling Dave’s shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Dave’s head tips back and he squirms in delight as Mike bends his head and gently bites down on his nipple.

Eager fingers make quick work of their remaining clothing. Dave lies back and tries to pull Mike on top of him but the younger man bats his hand away. Dave’s confusion turns to surprise as Mike’s hands close around his cock. Mike’s tongue licks at the juncture between hip and thigh before making its way to the head of Dave’s cock. Hands fly to Mike’s hair, urging him on and Dave cries out Mike’s name as he is engulfed in the heat of Mike’s mouth. He can’t help himself from thrusting up but Mike doesn’t seem to mind. He merely looks up at Dave through those long, dark lashes and continues his ministrations. One hand grips Dave’s hipbone firmly, trying to control his thrusting, and the other trails through the paint pooling at Dave’s side. He raises the finger to Dave and carefully traces a letter onto the lower part of Dave’s stomach.

F

Dave is uncertain of where exactly Mike is going with this but enjoying the sensation all the same.

U

Mike trails open-mouthed kisses up and down Dave’s cock before covering the head once more.

C

Fingernails dig into Dave’s thighs hard enough to mark him and that thought only causes him to shiver and thrust himself further into Mike’s waiting mouth.

K

Dave’s hands twist into the sheet as Mike rolls his tongue over Dave’s right testicle. Mike leaves a small gap before beginning the next word.

M

Mike places one last kiss on Dave’s cock before raising his head so he can watch Dave’s reaction as he draws the last letter.

E

“Fuck me,” Dave recites, “Mike...do you mean that?” He gazes questioningly at Mike.

“Please,” Mike whispers. Dave’s hands grab Mike and haul him up so he can kiss him. Mike’s tongue darts into his mouth and Dave moans as he tastes himself on the other man’s tongue. Mike’s hands sweep across Dave’s sweaty forehead, brushing the hair back as he kisses across Dave’s hairline.

“I want you so bad right now,” Dave pants in Mike’s ear, his voice husky with desire. His hands run up and down Mike’s bare back, sliding down to cup Mike’s arse and squeezing experimentally.

“Dave,” Mike whines, rubbing their erections together impatiently.

Before he knows what is happening Mike finds himself on his back with Dave’s blue eyes boring into him. “Give me two seconds,” Dave says, placing a kiss on Mike’s cheek before leaping up and bounding up the stairs. He returns not long after with a bottle of lube and a condom and it hits Mike all of a sudden that this is really happening. Dave kisses Mike passionately as his fingers fumble with the wrapper. Mike helps him to slide it on with shaky fingers and an encouraging smile.

“You’re sure?” Dave asks as he unscrews the lube. Mike nods.

“Fuck me Dave,” he begs.

Dave squirts a generous helping of the lube onto his fingers before trailing one around Mike’s entrance. Mike keens into Dave’s mouth as the finger makes its way past the tight ring of muscle. Dave stretches him slowly, adding two more fingers and searching out Mike’s prostate. When he finds it Mike cries out in pleasure and bucks around Dave’s fingers. Dave captures Mike’s lips in one last, searing kiss before positioning himself at Mike’s entrance. He pushes carefully inside and gasps at the feeling. Mike is so tight and warm it takes all of his self control not to pull out and slam back into the tiny man beneath him. Mike is grimacing though and Dave doesn’t want to hurt Mike in any way. He waits for Mike to adjust to the feeling before slowly sliding out and in again. This time a small moan escapes Mike’s lips.

“You feel incredible,” Dave gushes. He leans down and kisses Mike again, tongue thrusting to the same rhythm as his hips.

Mike is thrusting back now, back arching and hands wandering all over Dave’s back searching for something to hold on to. Dave’s cock finds Mike’s prostate and Mike’s whole world flips upside down. One hand wanders down to his own cock and he strokes himself slowly, enjoying the slow build up to ecstasy. Dave nibbles the shell of Mike’s ear, moaning incoherent sounds punctuated with Mike’s name.

“Mike, I’m getting close,” Dave murmurs as his thrusts become more frantic.

Mike nods and meets Dave’s heated gaze with one of his own. He increases the pressure on his cock and is dimly aware of Dave crying his name out as his orgasm washes over him. The pleasure is more than he can bear and his small body shudders and bucks as he spills into his hand. Dave lets his weight drop onto Mike, unwilling to let go of the feeling of Mike surrounding his cock. He kisses every part of Mike he can reach and runs his hands through Mike’s hair.

“Wow,” Mike says as soon as he’s recovered the power of speech. “That was just...wow.”

“Mmm...” Dave murmurs in agreement. “You are amazing. I cannot believe how good that felt.” He slides out of Mike and pulls the condom off, throwing it carelessly over his shoulder. He rolls over so he’s on his side and drops a kiss on Mike’s chest.

“You can talk,” replies Mike. “No one’s ever made me feel like that before.”

Dave lifts his head so he can look at Mike and smiles fondly. He inclines his head towards the sheet and raises an eyebrow. “Another masterpiece you reckon?”

Mike nods his head and allows Dave to pull him to his feet. Once again there is the clear outline of Mike’s body in the paint. The blue and yellow has mixed in places to form a bright, vibrant green but Mike can just make out the handprints from where Dave crawled over to him. Where Mike’s hand had just been there is a small splash of white that stands out starkly against the red of the sheet. Mike notices it first and blushes furiously. “I’ll just get that shall I?” he says, looking round for a cloth.  

Dave’s hand shoots out and grabs his wrist. “Don’t.”

Mike stares at him.

“No one’ll ever know. And besides, I think it’s hot,” he punctuates the statement by placing a series of kisses along Mike’s neck and collarbone.

“What are you going to call it?” Mike asks.

Dave studies Mike for a moment and then looks back at the painting. “Heaven,” he says with a grin.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

In and out (Part 3) (Nathan Drake & Male reader)

Read: Part one  Part two

Description: There was a deal between Elena and Nathan to make her way to Yemen for managing to get them to the city. But plans don’t go so easily as they should. Well, isn’t that pretty common thing for Nathan & Co.™?

@march-moon , for ya, baby.

Warnings: None really, just another establishment, getting a bit deeper into characters' history here. :)

Also also, one of my friends asked me, what is Flo’s theme (I have a theme for every character I work with). She doesn’t specifically have a theme, but I would recommend Feeling Good by Nina Simone or I Got You Babe by Etta James, which is sorta reffering to their relationship by itself.  

The last author’s note: Heavily inspired by the Uncharted 4: Nathan Drake and Uncharted 4: Victor Sullivan playlists on Spotify!

Nathan had seriously enough at that point.

To recapitulate everything that happened, he, Sully and Florence got to Syria right on time. They found Chloe and Cutter alive and well and met up with them at a Syrian cathedral. It even looked that Chloe and Cutter weren't followed, which was also good.

So far so good, right? Nathan shouldn't be so excited, it had to fuck up at some point. And when it happened, it was truly terrific.

Not even that Talbot, that jerk working for Marlowe, managed to get or stole, depending on a point of view, that second half of the amulet which Chloe, Sully, Nathan, and Cutter have found, but Cutter was poisoned by some hallucinogenic shit and he was doing some seriously bad stuff, like handing them the notebook and whatsoever. Florence didn't go with them, because Sully was afraid that she will get hurt and he didn't want to take that risk.

Which showed as a huge mistake, because they got ambushed again and Cutter broke his leg when they tried to escape - so he and Chloe then decided to travel back to London and letting that leg recover.

To summarize it all; the amulet showed them some more clues and Nathan, Sully and Florence decided to go to Yemen on their own. But the amulet was stolen, they didn't know where to go exactly and a half of their team was practically fucked and unable of functioning. The only optimistic thing was that so far, everyone was well and alive.

"I told you so, Victor," Florence said in a cold voice and cleaned him another cut with concentrated alcohol. Sully grunted at her words and tried to release his hand from Florence's, but she was intransigent and seriously mad because she could make such a big difference. "You should let me go with you. But no, you didn't, because I'm apparently a little girl who can't do anything on her own." She hissed and then hit directly to the shoulder on another of his bruises.

"Nobody said that sunshine," Sullivan whispered and tried to smooth her face, but her look almost killed him on the spot.

"But you thought that apparently. Now excuse me, Mister Sullivan, I'm going on the toilet now." Florence said sarcastically and left Nathan, who was half fallen asleep, and Sully, who had remorses.

She was seriously pissed at him this time; Florence and Cutter were great friends since Sully introduced them, actually. Sully took her every summer to London for a week or two long vacations just to visit him and then they traveled back home, looking for some gigs and taking care of Sully's bar in the meantime. (Sully does, in fact, own a bar, it was said in Uncharted: Golden Abyss).

And when Drake and Sully came with Cutter who they needed to carry so he could manage to walk somehow, she almost went crazy and yelled at Sullivan and Nathan for ten minutes, about things like how the hell did they even let that happen and if they even thought during the fleeing. And Sully's arguments didn't help at all, they made the situation even worse actually.

"Problems in paradise, pal?" Nathan mumbled and opened his eyes a little to look at Sullivan in that low airplane light.

"An angry woman," Sully chuckled and looked over to Nathan, adjusting the bandage on his hand. "Guess you know that, kid."

"I know it seriously well, so if you need any help..." Nathan smiled a little and looked at the night sky, seeing Sully smiling.

"I'm quite enjoying it, but I appreciate your offer." Sully sat comfortably into the seat, leaned back his head and closed his eyes.

"So have you contacted her as I asked ya?" Sully asked and Nathan's face turned straight pale. Her name was Elena Fisher, she was a woman who he met four years ago during his search for the lost city of El Dorado and they have been together for more than a year. Then she went by his side to the Himalayas, to put it better, they broke up and he met Elena there, and after that, they got officially married.

But it didn't go as planned and even tough Nate could see a part of himself in her and Elena could see herself in Nate, it just didn't work out for them. Sully with Florence went to the wedding as their witnesses and that day was the best in his life. It was big, cute and full of people he loved, he had Sully there, Chloe with Cutter paid them a visit and even Florence stayed until the deepest night, when Sullivan took her to the dancefloor and danced with her on a slow song - even though weird looks from some guests, they didn't care. Elena had quite a few friends and family members there, which was a thing that was Nate missing so much. He finally felt like he actually belongs somewhere.

But after a few months, he and Elena decided to split up from each other, just to clear their minds and hearts, to make sure what their expectations of life are and to fund out if they're actually happy in that marriage. Elena worked as a very skilled translator and a journalist, she even had her own show, and she had to leave the city very often and Nathan wasn't the best company either. He was a privateer, in his own words, which basically meant that the right amount of money will make him do anything, except murder.

And yesterday was the first day Nate spoke with Elena after six months. It was nice hearing that she was nice and well and so on, and after a long conversation, she promised that she'll get them into the city in Yemen with some press passes because of the riots which were currently going on there.

"She'll get us to the city with some press passes. We're good." Nathan answered roughly than he planned to. Sully knew that talking about Elena still hurt him, but to be honest, he loved that little blonde as his own daughter. And he had the need to tell his opinion to Nate almost every two months.

Florence was more intimate about that theme knowing like he felt at that time. Even she had to leave Sullivan for quite a while to find herself, even though she saw that they are two pieces of a puzzle which complete each other. Even though they were so distant in natures, in age and in opinions they somehow felt like a one person. And Nate shared this connection with Elena, he did, but nor of them found a way to come together.

And he didn't know how to feel about seeing her tomorrow in Yemen. He was nervous and scared of seeing Elena in real life that he was sure he will forget how to speak in one moment.

"I'm good. Ya, not." Sully stated, referring to Nathan's we're good, covering himself with a light blanked and yawning out loud.

"Yeah, mister wise-ass. What should I tell her? Sorry for not responding to your calls and e-mails? For half a year?" Nathan laughed ironically and looked at his older partner in crime.

"Nate, she's a spectacular young lady. Elena can figure out your mess before you even know about that mess." Sully smiled and Nathan could say that he's most probably right, but not saying it out loud.

"Am I seriously taking advice from a guy whose fiancé practically refuses to speak with him?" Nate laughed to himself, covering his tensed jaw in a sharp inhale. At least they managed to get a shower and some relatively clean clothes on.

"Oh, Nate. You still gotta learn a few things about women." Sully smiled. Then both of them shut up as Florence managed to get back from the toilets.

"Was afraid of ya. Thought ya got stuck or something." Sully joked and Nate had to smile at that. He was teasing her every time he could and it was the most honest and genuine thing that anyone managed to do in front of him.

"Oh, you booty hunter, you know that I can't get stuck with my precious bum." She answered and Nate could hear the amusement in her voice. She didn't forgive them but it was on the best way possible.

"So we're talking again. Relieving." Sully answered ironically. "Thought that I'll have at least a quiet flight because you were mad. And I will apparently have not."

"Shush you old man. You don't know what's good." Florence whispered as she adjusted pillow on Sully's shoulder. That was so similar to what he and Elena had when they actually managed to be together. Teasing, jokes and some pretty naughty things said under the context of the words, covered in a huge amount of love. And Nathan was missing it. But he didn't blame Elena to actually brought the theme of splitting up on the table. Nathan wouldn't be able to live with himself either.

"I missed ya, sunshine," Sullivan said quietly and let Florence snuggle to his shoulder, entwining his right hand with hers under the blankets.

"I was afraid that something bad happened to you when I saw Cutter. Don't you dare to make me stay in the city again, deal?"

"Oh, Florence..."

"I can manage a hell out of living for you if you want it so recklessly Sullivan," Florence answered with a sign of a clear mind. Sullivan was stuck in between two decisions - to let her actually go with them and let her kick some asses or don't let her, she will go anyway and as a bonus, she'll show him how mad she can get.

Sully brought her to this kind of life actually. He started to take her to his gym when she was twenty-four and then managed her to start a course of martial arts and defense with knives - she wasn’t the best, but her skills were pretty impressive if you ask Nathan. His pride was pretty hurt when the two of them got to the boxing ring; she was slim and a few inches smaller than him, so she used that as her privilege and brutally kicked his ass.

But Sully became worried after they put it back together and not acknowledging that she is pretty good in martial arts in fact because he was so afraid of losing her again without the vision of not getting her back to his side. Everyone knew that he's worried for no reason, and yet he was so stubborn it actually hurt.

“Why do I guess that I have nothing to decide here, do I?” Sullivan looked at her without a clear expression in his frowned face.

“I would say so.” Nathan agreed and winked at Florence with a sign of conspiration in his look. 

“Shush you two and go to sleep, we have a long day before us tomorrow.” Sullivan stagnated without any sign of a decision. But Florence smiled at Nathan knowing that they most likely succeeded in the things they wanted to. 

The flight wasn’t as long as they originally thought it will be, so every one of them slept not even about two hours before they had to pack all of their personal stuff and get out of the plane. They looked like a band of totally reckless booty hunters and as a band of idiots without any good sleep at once. 

Sully had a huge frown on his face and his eyes didn’t shine as usual - he felt very pissed about something and Flo nor Nate had the courage to test it out. He had yesterday’s crumpled shirt on and he looked seriously tired.

Florence walked next to him in a short beige adventurer’s shorts with high socks and hiking shoes on, a huge shirt with short sleeves in a light turquoise color has been tethered around her waist, covering the black top she had dressed on. Her hair was in a messy bun and her eyes were covered under big sunglasses. She looked like she came to Yemen straight up some huge party or that she just simply climbed out of a trash can, she barely balanced the knapsack of her clothes which she carried on the shoulder. 

Sully had Florence’s hand in his and like that, they looked like they came straight to blow the shit up. 

Nathan most probably looked the worst out of them, walking next to the duo like a pile of bad sleep, depression and scare in one big pack. He sweated out the hell out of himself in during the plane flight, his ass hurt pretty badly and his back was just a bunch of hurting nerves. And he seriously wanted to curse - yet he was afraid that Elena could somehow hear it. 

But they stood there for ten minutes, Flo managed to light up another of her light L&M, which nobody except Sully didn't seem to mind, and they still couldn’t see any sight of Elena. 

They were on the right spot, on an empty landing ramp in the middle of the desert practically, on the right time. Where she was? Elena wasn’t the person to forget something so major. She simply wasn’t.

As Sully and Florence went on with their bickering, Sully still held her hand in his, Nathan noticed a dude walking directly to them through the empty landing ramp. Nate just prayed to God for that dude not being another Jeff, a guy who was alongside Elena in the Himalayas.

This one was a bit different. He was smiling at them and his pace was somehow relaxed and fast at once. That guy looked somehow nice to Nate in a totally weird way.

“Hey!” The guy yelled a little to gain the attention of everyone in the group and waved at them. Florence immediately shut up and stopped naming every reason for Sully to think she is the best thing in his life and because of that he should let her smoke, and Sullivan just looked at that guy.

“And who the hell are ya? Not any kind of policeman, I hope?” Sully asked, nervously watching the cigarette in Florence’s hand.

“No, but even though I should ask you to stop it.” The strange guy looked at them and Sully looked like he won a ping-pong championship in his pub.

“Not to do what?” Florence asked in a teasing voice, inhaling the cigarette’s smoke again. 

“Holding hands. It’s sorta frowned up upon here. Or are you two married?” The guy asked with a face that simply said sorry.

“No!-” Flo screamed as if he said some seriously bad curse word and got her cheeks pretty rosy. But Sully’s calm voice interrupted her scream. “Not yet.” He said and Florence looked at him with her what the hell, I’m panicking right now face.

“Who are you, by the way?” Nathan asked and looked directly at the guy. He only smiled and looked at the passes in his hand. “Where’s Miss Fisher?” Nathan asked and tried to clear his throat, still worried that Elena is somewhere around them. 

“She couldn’t make it on time, so she asked me to come instead of her, I’m Y/N L/N, it’s really nice to meet you, Elena spoke very nicely of you.” The man smiled at every one of them and shook their hands.

And nobody of the four didn’t know what adventure lies in front of them. 

[omgmusiclove]

An Introduction of Sorts

So...I finished an Hetalia one-shot that has been languishing around. Hope you enjoy!

Title: An Introduction of Sorts

Main Character: America

Secondary Character: Juan Ponce de Leon

Mentioned Character: Native America

Implied Character: Spain

Summary: Little America meets Juan Ponce de Leon in 1513 in the region now called Florida.

Early morning dew on wet grass was the best feeling in the world. It made your bare feet feel cool and slippery being able to squish together the damp dirt under the grass between your feet. It also made the grass smell and look good. It was like seeing millions of crystals against the rising sun.

This would be the last few times he could enjoy this as rising temperatures accompany the oncoming of summer. In the middle of the day, April would bring hot humid weather which really wasn't that fun to play in unless you were in shade or water. Little America got on his knees and felt the grass with his hand. The water would splay around his hand and evaporate quickly as the sun started taking its spot in the sky, the beautiful dawn turning into broad daylight slowly.

America crawled a little bit more on the grass. He would find all sorts of things when he crawled around. Like insects, mud spots, tiny creatures, and his favorite-worms. Worms were a sight to behold. They never died if you played with them to hard and accidently tore them apart (like America tended to) since they would just become two worms. They felt really squishy and cool and never bit you like some spiders and ants. Worms were America's favorite pastime and he found a little patch of them.

As time went on and America spent his day laughing and giggling with his worm friends, the ocean started losing its “quiet” sensation. The Atlantic was always one to be wild and have crashing waves but you could always tell when the waves started sounding different. Instead of following through, the wave would be interrupted with a smack against hardwood. A ship was breaking its way through the Atlantic heading to shore unbeknownst to America.

He didn't quite realize that anyone was coming until the ship hit shore, crashing against the hardened sand. Looking up, America saw a huge sleek wooden ship. It had majestic sterling white sails that covered the top of the ship and a huge intimidating flag that had four squares of castles and lions...things that America never really noticed or saw before.

The men (and there sure was a lot) ranged from light skin like his own to a little more olive skin color. They were tall and trimmed looking men wearing breeches, stockings, long overcoats over a simple shirt, and some of them even wore hats. Many of the ship men looked rather plain but some of them especially one figure stood out with more elaborate clothing that shined against the sun. Who were these guys?

America, being little enough to hide amongst the grass parts that were growing tall, hid himself. He crouched down into a little ball resembling a cat and peeked through the grass fields watching as the men started getting off of the boat and onto shore. America could hear them speaking in some language he couldn't understand and never heard of. It wasn't nation speak that he was inherently born to know but it wasn't the one of the native tribe languages either. These new voices were exotic sounding different from each man: hopeful, excited, curious, commanding, demanding.

There was one voice who stuck out the most. The man with the most elaborate clothing yelled over the group in a commanding leadership type way. He seemed bold and very forthright about his ambitions. It reminded of America of the leaders from the various natives. This man must lead them.

The men after hearing the instruction of whatever the lead man was saying starting going out into the fields away from the shore and started exploring. Each went different directions in a group, their voices exclaiming things in awe about this new world they were seeing for the first time.

America crouched himself together a little more not necessarily knowing what to do. He had overheard of new people coming to his lands from Native North America that was the other personification of the native peoples here and where his other brother whom he never saw lived in the north. Native was talking to other tribe's leaders of news from the South America and Caribbean tribes of people coming from the ocean on boats and cultivating their land. Some of the stories had sounded horrific with some tribes being conquered or used as slaves.

It had sounded scary to America and he didn't quite understand a lot of it. One thing is for sure, there was bigger nations out there somewhere older than him and they were not probably as nice as Native was to him. Could these guys be from one of those bigger nations?

Heavy boots clamped down on the now dry grass near his hiding spot catching America off guard. The man looked around and said something strange when he heard a little squeak that America couldn't stop in time. America closed his eyes and tightened his mouth shut trying not to be caught by this weird beast. The boots came closer and closer until America felt one on top of his head. It pushed down a little bit causing America to move quickly on instinct and consequently do a somersault that landed him on his bum.

Blue eyes and brown eyes looked at each other for a long while, just staring. America could see that this man was definitely one of importance because of his lavish cloth that draped him. It resembled the high level leaders of the Natives except without feathers or paint or bow. This man had silk, well-kept hair, and a sword. The man's eyes burned a hole through his emotions flitting through them a mile a minute. America shivered. Something inside him, an inner voice, was telling him that this man was not a nation. The way his eyes were staring showed various states but especially one of surprise of finding people on this land. It gave away a flair only a human could possess. A nice little curious touch to the human persona.

The man grunted and crouched down to America reaching a hand out to to keep him steady. America not really wanting to be touched by someone he didn't know used both his hand to grab the intruding appendage and push it to the ground. The man was startled a little a bit and uttered a word that sounded like a curse.

“You are a strong baby,” he murmured under his breath. A toddler shouldn't have been able to do something like that. Not a normal human toddler. He looked back at America curiously and wondered if this baby was special. Like the man that was always beside the royals. A special person...a personification. America not really understanding the man's tongue kept his hands on top of the others.

“What are you doing here?” America asked in broken nation speak. He was still young and not having much contact with other nations, his speech was not exactly up to par yet. Even though he had deduced that this man was human he figured that this was going to be the best choice for communication. He most likely did not know any native tongue and nation speak had words from all sorts of languages. He could probably understand at least some of them.

The man raised a chiseled eyebrow at the weird gibberish. He didn't comprehend many of the words used there.

Sighing, the man said, “Me llamo Juan Ponce de Leon. I am here on exploration from Spain. You being here shows that there is people here.” He smirked in an amusing way. “You are not a normal human are you little one?”

America's eyebrows went down in confusion. What was this...Juan person saying? He caught one thing from that gargin, his name.

America didn't know what else he should do and uttered the most intelligible thing that came to mind. “Huh?”

Juan's mouth dropped the smirk and turned into a frown which was followed by a silence. Everything was dead around them except for the distant ocean waves beating against each other in a competition.

Then like a geyser sprouting its water from its whole, Juan fell into a fit of laughter. It was jovial and heavy. It caught America so off guard that his grip on Juan's hands lessened which enabled Juan to break free. His freed hands immediately covered his belly as his laughter continued almost growing silent. America's face grew a wondrous shade of red across his cheeks. He didn't exactly know what he did to cause this man to laugh so heavily. He simply just couldn't understand him....he never really seen anyone from the Old World.

Juan was finally able to regain control of himself and cleared his throat. He got back up on his two feet and straightened out his lavish clothes. His stately eyes looked down upon America and his mouth formed into a patronizing smirk.

“You don't understand me...,”he stated. Then his eyes looked up onto the landscape. Scouting out the surface, America's land was new, clean, fresh with new resources that have never been abundantly used or even discovered. It was like looking at heaven's virginal angels-pristine and immaculate.

All his to exploit.

Juan's eyes landed back on America with a look of greed. His smirk turning from patronizing to hungry.

“You have never seen one of us huh? A European from the Old World. The way your land looks, little one, means your people live like savages. An uncivilized group.” Juan sneered, eyes leering. He bent down to pick America up and cradle him like the little child he was. America was too stunned to do anything other than let him be cuddled but the cuddle wasn't warm. It wasn't like Native's cuddles. Native's cuddles were warm and comforting. He knew he was safe from the world with Native's strong arms around him. This guy's cuddle was cold. Like a barren winter wasteland. There was no warmth in Juan's cuddle and at no time did he feel protected. America knew he had to do something.

The little child started writhing and wriggling around uttering little whiny noises. A kitten trying to get out of the bigger cat's grasp. Juan looked down and gave a patronizing smile.

“Oh, little one. You can't escape from me. You will help us bring new riches to Spain!” Juan started walking back to the ships where he would be able to gather his men. Catching young America was the first step (already completed) and the child could help them navigate the unknown lands and deal with the indigenous savages. This child would not grow up like them.

When they got to the ship, the soldiers automatically surrounded Juan ready to serve. One of the men noticed that Juan was carrying a bundle that was struggling to get out of his grip.

“What do you have there, Commander Ponce? A baby?” asked one of his men.

“There are people here? Asked another.

Juan looked at the man and scoured over the rest of soldiers and stated, “this is no ordinary baby. When I saw him, he showed too much intelligence and strength to be a regular human baby. This young one represents this new colony we have found here.”

Silence rung around the group. It was always interesting to the humans to hear about those special people. Most humans saw these “special beings” throughout their lives but always convinced themselves that it just had to be another person. Other humans knew better and believed in the nations especially if their late family has seen them in the past. Then there were high ranking humans that dealt with the nations on a regular basis. Subsequently, there were humans that did not necessarily believe Juan and those that did. No one dared to dissent or consent, though, to the commander.

“He will come back with us. It would be lovely to show the royal family that a newborn colony personification has been created. Vamanos!”

Juan led the way and headed towards the ship’s dock. His men followed after him.

Little America was scared. He started screaming and squirming in the conquistador's grasp. He did not want to go to wherever this man was taking him.

A squirmish had ensued between Juan and America. America was an abnormally strong country and, even was he little, he was able to play with the bison and swing them around just using his bare hands. America decided that he needed that strength now and started kicking and clawing and yelling out. Surprised by the burst of pure strength, Juan let go of the baby nation and America fell to the ground, shaken but unharmed. Juan, realizing that he needed to use force, grabbed his sword and quickly swung it at the child’s arm making a warning cut that went from America’s upper arm arm to lower arm.

America cried out from the pain not expecting the sword to come out. The blood was a small trickle (the cut was not that deep) and the blood was fresh and hot. Tears started rolling down America’s eyes and he looked up at his torturer with teary eyed fury. He was angry that this big guy that came from lands elsewhere had the gall to try to force him to go back with him. He wouldn’t allow himself to just be used as a toy to exploit.

Very swiftly, America grabbed onto the edge of the sword, new tears forming from the cuts it gave his hand, and yanked hard. The force of the yank was so much that Juan Ponce fell face forward onto the ground with a very grueling thud. He groaned and when he was finally able to lift his face, it was covered with dirt and grass. His head was pounding with pain from the fall.

America now in control of the sword, grabbed hold of the hilt and pointed it towards Juan.

“Leave now! I am not afraid to use this,” America shouted. His young voice was strong but not quite steady. It had a slight quiver to it that might have loosened the punch of America’s words.

Juan looked at his circumstances. He had lost against a baby! A little baby, not more than two years old, was now holding him at sword point. His pride was severely hurt. His men had just witnessed him lose against a child- not even a full grown nation! Oh, how he wanted revenge but he would have to bide his time. Juan, for once in his life, decided not to push his luck.

Staggering to his feet, Juan put his hands up and looked at the child.

“I will leave you now,” he stated. America just kept his gaze and held the sword at Juan’s face.

Slowly, walking backwards not daring to turn his back on the child, the great Juan Ponce de Leon was forced to retreat. He left behind his sword and finally turned his back when he got close to his men.

“Sir, are you okay?

“Si, head back to the ship and get it ready for sail. We have a lot to tell our superiors,” Juan ordered.

Looking back at America, who now had put the sword down, Juan vowed to come back and colonize this little nation. He would get his revenge and this little nation (no matter the strength) and the savages that live with him will  not be able to withstand the army that he would yield.

He would, personally, make sure that this New World would be his.

[thunder-birb]

The 5 times Tamaki accidentally confessed to Mirio and the one time he didn’t have to

Mini Series Part II 

2.

“Tamaki! Hey! I hope you don’t mind me joining you” The familiar weight of Mirio, nudging against my shoulder for the briefest of moments and then preceding to scoot a few inches away from me to give me some space; is one of the nicest, most unassuming gestures anyone has done for me. Most people like my parents, sister and even some of our teachers presume that they know exactly what I need when I’m feeling clammed up or nervous. However, that usually takes a turn for the worse and the guilt of making everyone worry about me always elevates my anxiety.

That’s why most people have resigned to not doing anything at all. And in most circumstances, I would actually prefer this method, but there are those moments in which being alone is the worse possible decision I have ever made in my life. Because then, nothing hinders my mind from spiralling into a poisonous cycle of crippling vitriolic thoughts.

Enter Mirio Togata. He has witnessed a fair share of my anxiety spells and usually lets the ‘capable adults’ deal with it. However, when it is just the two of us, Mirio has the brightest idea of all and simply asks me what I need. No one and I mean no one, has ever done that approach and through many incidents, I learned, just as much as Mirio, that I actually don’t like being by myself when it happens.

It still doesn’t mean I also want to be enveloped with attention either. That just makes me feel suffocated, cornered and incapable of handling my own emotions. So, Mirio does what he does best and just stays by me instead. He lays on the grass when we’re outside at the park or watches Television when we’re sitting in his couch or continues to read his favorite comic; ready to talk about it if I need to or not say anything at all.

He gives me the space I need to pull myself together again and does not try to fix what isn’t his to solve.

Today is one of those days and surely enough Mirio is laying on the grass next to me by the soccer field, his school jacket bunched up together as his makeshift pillow with pocky in his mouth and a new manga volume he’s been dying to read. He���s really into his manga that he doesn’t even notice me watching him; observing how he’s almost finished his first box of pocky all by himself. Or how he’s been tapping his white sneakers to the beat of another one of his favorite rock ballads. Sometimes he even starts humming absentmindedly, but I get too nervous to ask him what he’s actually singing in case it embarrasses him and I’ll never hear him humm again.

“Hey, you’re back. Everything alright?” He stops tapping his foot and drops the manga to his chest. Then, he places his hands behind his head and turns to peer at me, blue button eyes shining in the sunlight reflecting the ocean-like hues of the sky above.

“Yeah… It’s just-- Everyone always expects something from me. The teachers, the students, my parents and I can never give them what they want. I can’t even manifest anything more than a lousy bud, but they still want more just because I lucked out and got a really ‘cool quirk.’ Too bad I’m terrible at everything I do and-- ” I start to explain, but the feelings of disappointment and frustration begin to flood my consciousness and I just don’t want to go back to the gym with everyone’s eyes on me.

I shake my head and tightly shut my eyes, trying not to think about how I could not for the life of me do anything worthy of my quirk. Not with everyone watching, eyes heavy with anticipation, making me short of breath and prickling with nerves that I know I’m visibly shaking.

Just Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. In.

And that’s when he starts singing. No longer only to himself.

“Here are days where things don’t go well

But even in the scarce light filtering through the leaves

I can still feel the same sun

Even if it’s a dream where I’m covered in snow

I will keep going your way

I believe I will go walking this road

So as not to lose my way”

It’s almost a crime that Mirio can actually belt a note without sounding like a seal. I already can’t see his flaws as flaws, but silly attributes or even as quirks before that became the national term for our mutations. So naturally, everything good about him unsettles every fiber of my body, but in a crazy good way. Too good that I feel like I might throw up sometimes.

“Oh man! Sorry you had to hear that!” He laughs, the rich kind that’s a little exaggerated at the end to show he’s starting to get self-conscious. “I was only gonna sing a line or two, but that song just really gets me going you know? And I figure maybe it can help you, too” Mirio pinks a little bit, which does further damage to my Broca area that I could no longer speak or look at him without physically hurting from his brightness.

“That bad huh? I’m sorry Tamaki! As a hero I will do everyone’s ears a favor and never sing again!” he laughs, self-awareness out the window and resigns to looking up at the sky.

☀️☀️☀️

I don’t know exactly how many minutes we spend laying in complete silence, watching the cottony clouds take form and float by like strangers in passing at the crosswalk, but it settles the last bits of my nerves. Mirio proceeds to point out really rad looking cloud shapes, and swears one even looks like a bowl of ramen. I chuckle not seeing it at all, but Mirio insists and surely enough so does his stomach as it growls particularly loud and hangry.

We turn our heads at the same time and laugh so hard my cheeks starts to hurt. I try to avoid Mirio’s face because now both my stomach and cheek muscles are starting to tighten, but it’s so hard to resist looking when he’s smiling so vividly that his ears are turning pink. In an attempt to stop, he gets up, but somehow trips on the way up and falls on his bum.

We laugh even harder and now I really have to stop. My face is turning red from straining itself and the pain is getting unbearable, so I start doing the breathing exercises my sister advises I practice. I am so caught up in centering myself, I don’t notice Mirio get up, put his jacket back on, throw his trash in the bin and stash his manga back in his duffel bag. He has his hand out for me by the time I open my eyes and I gulp down the nerves attempting to choke me up. Wow his face is real close and ears still a little rosy.

“C’mon Tamaki! Let’s get some food!” He suggests and I nod, shying away from his gaze as he kindly pulls me up. I bite down on my lip, trying to gain some control of myself and we head to the night market Mirio frequents.

The smell of beef, barbeque, and fried seafood of every kind has us salivating and we make quick steps towards his favorite stand. The old man greets us with his signature smile and Mirio makes small talk as he does with everyone. After ordering, we sit at our usual spot at the far right end of the stall and start devouring our noodles the moment the Ojichan hands it to us.

We finish our food quickly as if we have not eaten the whole day and by the time we clean our bowl, I feel so full, so happy and like I can do anything.

“Hey Mirio, watch this!” I call his attention and manifest my left arm into the noodles we just ate. It’s stupid and spontaneous and I don’t even really think it’ll work, but Mirio’s jaw drops so low I immediately howl with laughter with my noodle arm (it really worked!) smacking the table. Mirio almost slides off his chair from laughing too much as I continue to flail my noodle arms around. But, eventually everyone starts noticing and we huddle closer in secret. It can’t stop us from playing around too much though and ultimately we are escorted out as usual because we are starting to bother the obachans.

🐙🐙🐙

The walk home feels light and the incident earlier today feels so far away and minor when usually I spend the rest of the time replaying the worst bits of it. But not tonight and we fall into step, strolling through the familiar streets, while Mirio starts humming again. I listen to the melody and realize that it’s definitely the ballad he sang earlier. I get lost in it, crossing the roads in routine that I don’t notice we’re standing in front of my house and how he’s stopped humming for some time now.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow Tamaki! Goodnight~” Mirio waits until I look at him, then squeezes my shoulder and smiles in that way that he does that I couldn’t help the small groan that escapes my throat.

“Goodnight Mirio! Get home safely” I mumble, opening the gate and hurrying through, but then I stop in my tracks and go back outside. It just wouldn’t be right not to tell him. “Mirio wait--” I yell, hoping he isn’t too far away and then he turns his head to look at me.

“Did you forget--”

“You have a great voice!” I yell back trying to hold on to the sudden burst of bravery subduing my innately antsy nature. 

“I mean everything you do is pretty much incredible-” No. Did I just say that out loud?? Crap damage control say something anythingggg “--and uh---I-- I know you’ll master your quirk soon enough too!” word vomit once again takes over me and I’m so freaking nervous after saying that out loud baka baka baka that I keep my head down, shaking worst than earlier. This was a mistake.

“Tamaki, you really overestimate me!” he says back and I slowly lift my head, stopping just below his mouth. “But I always appreciate your kind words of encouragement and if anyone was awesome today, it would be you Noodle Arms! Now that’s cool!” Mirio wiggles his arms around in demonstration even crouching a little so, I see it in my line of vision. Then, soon enough I can’t help, but smile at him and his permeating warmth and enigmatic way of uplifting any bad situation like a real pro hero.

“Say hello to your family for me!” He waves one last time and then turns back to cross the street. I watch him until I can no longer see the blonde hair from afar, just soaking up all the brightness now that it’s at a safe distance from me.

“Tamaki! What did I say about hanging around outside at this time of the night?” my okaasan yells from the front door and I quickly make my way inside. “You know you could just invite him over if you don’t wanna say bye just yet” My mom suggests and I squeak, run past her and head straight to my room.

“Tamaki wait! You have to eat---” was the last I heard before I blast my music, wrap my body in all of my blankets and fall fast asleep from the warmth of the day.

Part 1 of 5

And here is Part II! Thanks to all who have read and liked the story. It really means a lot to me and if anyone is wondering, the song Mirio sang is Yume no Tsubomi by Remioromen (which is the band his Hero name partly came from, if I’m not mistaken). Thanks again and I hope you enjoy this just as much as the first part ^^

[hookahazz]

Chronicles of a Black Girl Vol 2: It’s New York Baby |Harry Styles|

Warnings: Cursing, fluff (this was ji cute)

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Here’s part two, I finally finished. It’s so long. I took a different approach this time, this one was just like a story I had in my head and I wanted the reader to be black. I hope you guys enjoy it. I finished editing this at 2 in the morning so please, please, please give me feedback tell me how you feel about it (love it, hate it, like it, dislike it) if you see any spelling errors let me know. Also, I tried to write Harrys dialogue the way he actually talks IRL so for my advanced writers who do that tell me if I did it right, please. This volume will probably have little blurbs in the future. 

ASK BOX 

Harry’s lost, very fucking lost. He’s stuck somewhere in the middle of New York of all places, and of course, he hasn’t a clue as to where he is nor does he know how to get anywhere. It was spur of the moment and Harry nearly regrets saying yes to Niall crazy proposition. He had called him hours before their plane departed, asking if he wanted to go to New York and Harry really couldn't decline (he couldn’t find it in his heart to, not with Niall on the other end of the line crying because he wasn’t able to return the tickets nor was he able to get a refund on the hotel he booked for the romantic getaway he planned for his girlfriend who of course broke up with him over text just before).

“Bloody fuck,” he yelled on the corner of an unknown street.

Harry was alone now because his idiotic best mate hadn’t been paying attention and hopped on a train without him.

“I swore you were right behind me, mate!” Niall had professed over the phone.

“I wasn’t Niall! You were ways in front of me, damn it!”

“Okay, okay. Let’s just calm down alright? All you need to do is get on a train headed s-”

Of course, only Harrys phone would die while he’s stuck in the middle of nowhere in a city he’s never been in while he’s without a charger.

“No, no, no! Fucking hell!” he screamed, pulling at his curls. He plopped himself on a bench and hung his head on the verge of tears. Harry was not a cryer, but with the stress of not knowing where he was and this anger he had begun storing toward Niall and his bitchy ex-girlfriend, crying seemed like the only logical thing to do.

“Yo, what’s the matter whichu, kid? Why you spazzin’?“

Without even looking up, Harry let it all out without a moment's hesitation, in dire need of a source to vent to not caring who or what it was.

“Well for one, M’lost for christ sake. Don’t have a bloody fucking clue as to where I am! My phones dead, my best mate jumped on a train without me, M’fucking hungry and it’s s’bloody fucking cold out here! Why’s it s’fucking cold?!” he concluded, out of breath from his confession.

“You’s a funny one,” the girl, he had concluded immediately, giggled causing Harry to look up.

“I’m (Y/N), what’s your name curly Q?”

“M’Harry,” he grinned, now admiring just how beautiful she was.

(Y/N) had a dark, rich, creamy complexion that Harry couldn’t stop gawking at; it reminded him of expensive chocolate he had once tasted while visiting Ecuador (a high school trip he submitted his payment for at the minute because his mom had been pestering him about how he never does anything fun and that he’d regret it later). She had long, dark brown and blonde braids that fell past her back and stopped at her bum that Harry yearned to play  She also had the prettiest eyes Harry had ever seen, they were a chocolate brown that seemed to be glowing due to the streetlights they had sat under. And to Harry, even though she had only spoken only a couple of sentences to him and laughed at his series of unfortunate events, he thought her voice was like velvet (she had a thick New York accent he thought was just the cutest). He could listen to her talk all day and he’d never complain. Harry loved everything about this girl and he knew nothing of her. He just thought she was really, really, really fucking beautiful.

“Odd name for an odd kid but still cute,” she smiled.

“Hey... M’not a kid. M’a grown man,” he whined only making (Y/N) laugh.

“Yeah sure,” she waved him off with yet another smile (Harry had come to really adore it by now) before zipping her jacket up and putting her hood over her head.

“It’s brick out here,” she shivered.

“Brick? What are you going on about, love?” he questioned, tilting his head like a curious cat (Harry wasn’t one for using slang).

“Just means cold babe, na mean?”  

His heart warmed at the use of “babe”. He knew deep down she didn’t mean anything by it but god, he loved to hear the word roll off her tongue (it was rather pleasing to him).

“N-na mean? I don't f-”

“It’s finna rain, sweets,” she hummed looking up at the sky.

Harry groaned in frustration and annoyance (not at (Y/N) of course), mumbling some curse words under his breath and tugging at his hair trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do.

“Erm, are there any shelters, perhaps, nearby I can go to? J-just until I can figure out what to do?” He questioned nervously,

God, he was so embarrassed. Harry was sure, absolutely sure, that (Y/N) had thought he was the biggest loser in the world right now. If his face wasn’t so red and bitten by the cold, she could actually see how embarrassed he was.

Unfortunately for Harry, there were none within walking distance. By now, all of the local shops were closed and everyone was pretty much inside, sleeping by now, resting ready for whatever tomorrow holds. Now (Y/N) wasn’t heartless, she wasn’t just about to leave the curly haired boy out in the cold to freeze. In fact, she was probably one of the kindest girls New York had to offer but that doesn’t mean she couldn't “fuck a bitch up”, she would proclaim, if need be. She did feel bad for the cute boy though. He didn’t seem suspicious or dangerous in fact quite the opposite. She thought he looked rather cute, his nose and ears red from the cold, his curly hair poking from his bandana he had wrapped around his head. He resembled a real teddy bear in her eyes.

“You can stay at mines for tonight,” she blurted without a second thought.

Silence fell between them making her almost regret her offer.

“Only if you want, duh. Of course, you don’t have to Its just real cold out here and I just don’t feel comfortable leaving you out here alone all night, it’s mad dangerous at night.”

“Y-You sure, love? Really don’t want to impose. S’bad enough you're wasting your time sitting out in the cold with me,” he smiled, warming her heart.

“Oh, you’re buggin’ kid. It’s really no problem at all. Can’t have you freezing your balls off in the cold now can we, Harry?” She smirked. She quite liked the way his name rolled off her tongue. She liked his name too. (Y/N)’s never ever met a ‘Harry’ before.  

↫ ↬

“It’s kinda small but I’ll make it comfortable for you,” she mumbled, sticking and twisting the key into the lock, opening the door to her apartment.

Harry really adored (Y/N), he really did think she was quite lovely. He was so grateful for her; he’s never met someone so kind and trusting.

“Damn it. It’s brick in here too?! Fuck is going on with the heat?” she exclaimed rushing to the heater as soon as she managed to get the door open.

Harry just stood there, awkwardly at that, by the door, really unsure of what do. He didn’t want to be rude and just sit so formally. He just twirled a curl around his finger until she came back. He was extremely nervous and the last thing he wanted to do was seem like a weirdo or make her uncomfortable in any way. Harry thought he’d actually die from embarrassment if he did anything stupid in front of (Y/N).

“Hey, sit down get comfortable, relax, Harry. I’ll get you some warm clothes and I’ll wash your old ones,” she yelled from down the hall.

Harry sat down on her rather comfortable couch, he was almost excited to sleep on her couch. His body really is not meant to sleep on couches, it gives him a lot of back pains (Niall has had an earful of Harry's complaints in the past) but Harry didn’t care tonight, he had such a long day and he’s just grateful that he gets to sleep in a warm apartment rather than a cold park bench or some moldy motel.

“Here babe,” her smooth voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Thanks s’much, love. I really appreciate it,” Harry smiled, gently taking the plaid blue pants and a plain black T-shirt from her hands (they were decorated with two silver rings, one on her pinky and ring finger. Harry thought that was quite cute given that he also wore silver rings).

“Oh please, it’s not a big deal. I couldn't just leave you out there, babe,” (Y/N) poked the dimple indented in his cheek and giggled. She really adored his smile as he did hers, there's just something about those dimples that just made (Y/N)’s knees weak.

↫ ↬

“Oh, will you shut the fuck up about that! I was 8! I’m not telling you shit about my childhood ever again, Styles!”

(Y/N) and Harry had soon learned that they weren’t going to get any sleep, not with the constant noise of police sirens going off; it was about 12, maybe 1 in the morning? Neither of them knew, both of them too caught up in a game of spades (in which (Y/N) had to repeatedly remind Harry of the rules) and the two boxes of pizza (Y/N) ordered (even though Harry had begged her to let him pay, she insisted saying he was the guest), to even think about sleep

(Y/N) was born and raised in New York, The Bronx specifically. It was dangerous as hell to be living out there sometimes but man, did she love that borough nonetheless. She knew just about everyone in South Bronx, most of them were like family to her. The Bronx was her home and it was also the last place anyone would want to tour when they came to New York, so for the life of her, she really couldn't figure out how this six feet, teddy bear looking dude stumbled into one of the most dangerous boroughs in the state.

“Okay okay (Y/N) I guess I’ll let it slide,” Harry bit his lip, trying to contain his laughter (she had just told him about the time one of her big brothers scared her so bad she pissed herself and Harry couldn’t stop laughing).

“Now here’s an important question that’ll really decide if I actually like you or not,” she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah okay shoot, curly Q,” she grinned, laying a seven of hearts on the stack.

“Do you drink your tea with milk or no?”

She immediately crinkled her nose in disgust.

“Fuck is you talk bout Styles? I don’t drink no wack ass tea” she giggled.

“Fuck is- are you talking about (Y/L/N),” he tried to copy her but failed miserably as it sounded absolutely ridiculous coming out of his mouth.

“Aww, been in New York for only a day and you’re already talking like me, cute!”

“Oi, shut up!” he stuck his tongue out, pouting, only making (Y/N) laugh harder.

“You’ve been laughing at me ever since I told you I was lost, you’re s’mean.”

“Nobody’s mean, you’re just too sensitive, baby,” she smirked.

Harry was quite embarrassed. (Y/N) had been calling him pet names (lover, sweets, sweetie, etc) ever since they had walked into her apartment and each time Harry’s stomach fluttered and he blushed (luckily for Harry, (Y/N) was oblivious to things as such).

↫ ↬

“That show was shit love,” he snorted.

“Shut up you just don’t understand it,”

Somehow, someway (Y/N) had talked Harry into watching an episode of Black Ink Crew: New York (a crazy reality tv show (Y/N) had been invested in since the first episode aired) after they had finished their game of spades (Harry was and still is confused about the rules and lost horribly).

“There was just a lot of drama. I couldn't keep up with all of it!” Harry groaned, resting his head on her shoulder taking one of her braids into his fingers and twirling around his long digits it as he imagined doing so when he first laid eyes on her.

“That’s why it’s good, babe! I’d rather watch someone else’s drama then have some in my own life,” she yawned.

“You’re tired, button?” Harry questioned, beginning to feel bad for keeping her up so late into the night.

“Just a bit, doesn’t matter, I’m sleeping out here anyway. I got the bedroom ready for you so just go in there when you’re ready to go to bed.”

“You- love, you’re not sleeping on the couch and M’not sleeping in your bed (Y/N),” he argued.

“Go get in the bed Harry, you just too tall to sleep on my couch,” she smiled, laying on the couch and wrapping the blanket around her small figure.

Harry just stared at her as she began to fall asleep. He was completely infatuated with this girl and he hadn’t even known her for a full 24 hours. No one in his entire life had been so nice and inviting to him. He hadn’t ever met someone who he wanted to be around all of the time, who he needed to be around all of the time. He couldn't understand why, even if she only meant it in a playful way, her calling him babe made his stomach flutter and made his cheeks rosy red. Harry couldn’t understand any of it and it annoyed the hell out of him, he ended up falling asleep on the couch along with her.

↫ ↬

“Jesus Niall I don’t know and I don’t really want to wake her up, she looks s’peaceful sleeping,” Harry whispered into the line while leaning on her kitchen counter.

“C’mon, you’re gonna to have to wake her up soon. Haven’t a fucking clue as to where you are mate! Got the whole day planned before we leave tomorrow,” Niall whined into the phone making Harry roll his eyes.

Harry really was in no rush to leave (Y/N) just yet. Quite honestly, he was so upset when she fell asleep he just stared at her and played with her braids and listened to her mumble every couple of minutes to pass the time because he didn’t want to waste his last couple of hours with her sleeping.

Harry was so engrossed in his phone he didn’t even realize she had woken up nor did he feel her arms wrap around his body until she mumbled a “good morning”.

“Oh good morning, pet. Didn’t even know you were awake yet,” he smiled turning to her.

“M’hungry,” she mumbled again, pressing her cheek to his shirt.

Harry’s heart sped up and his face began heating up (it annoyed Harry how much of an effect (Y/N) had on him).  He took this as an opportunity to play with her hair again, he was really in love with her braids. Harry just thought (Y/N) looked so damn pretty with them he really couldn’t help himself. She really was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, that would explain why Harry creepily watched her sleep (but he’d never tell a soul, not even Niall, that he did that to a woman he’d just met).

“I’m sorry, I’m like all up in yo personal space.”

“(Y/N) s’fine, really.”

“We can go to the city if you want. We could get some brekkie at a nice restaurant,” he offered, forgetting all about Niall’s plans for the day.

She just nodded and smiled.

“You can take a shower first, it’s gone take me a minute to figure out what I wanna wear today,” she grinned.

(Y/N) was so excited, not only because she was going to get some food in the city but because she was going to be able to spend the morning and hopefully, the afternoon with him. She wanted to show him around, take some memorable pictures, and hear some more crazy childhood stories with him, Gemma, and Anne. She just wanted to be around him as much as he wanted to be around her; they craved one another in every way.

↫ ↬

“(Y/N), I swear on everything if you take another bite of my fucking pancakes, I’m gonna f-”

“You ain’t gone do shit, Styles cause you ain't about shit,” (Y/N) was nearly in tears because of how hard she was laughing. They’d been cracking jokes from the moment they’d left (Y/N)’s apartment, to the train ride, to the bus, and now in the restaurant.

Being in New York really brought something out of Harry, a new attitude and a new perspective. Being with (Y/N) made him more observant (given that he’d almost gotten run over by a taxi while he was crossing the road before the sign said walk). He enjoyed being in the city. Even with it being his first time there, it felt like home and Harry can’t decide if it’s (Y/N) or if it’s just the vibes the city held that made him feel such.

“You’re quite annoying, y’know that (Y/N)?” she rolled her eyes and stuck her fork into Harry's pancakes again.

“Shut yo goofy ass up, you know you love it.”

Harry just looked down and grinned, he did love it but he just didn’t want to admit that to himself just yet. This moment with her was perfect. He lifted his head, his eyes met with (Y/N) typing on her phone and god, did she look beautiful. Maybe it was the sun bouncing off of her chocolate skin, or the way her braids were styled, or maybe it was just the contrast of her skin and her red shirt that made it just impossible for Harry to stop staring at her.

(Y/N) lifted her head from her phone and smiled fondly at him.

“You’re staring again, goofy.”

“S-sorry you just look...” he paused

“I look...?” she smirked.

“Beau-”

“Harry, mate is that you?! God, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Niall interrupted them.

Harry nearly choked, turning to meet his Irish lad.

“Nearly turned the city upside down searching for y- Oh? Who might this be eh?”

“I’m (Y/N), you must be Niall, Harry’s told me all about you.” she smiled, introducing herself to the enthusiastic blonde boy.

“So sorry you had to deal with Harry here, I know he must’ve been a pain in the ass.”

“Oh yeah, definitely the worst,” she teased.

“Oi, M’right here,” Harry whined, pouting like a baby.

“Oh gosh, didn’t even see you there mate.”

(Y/N) and Niall began laughing making Harry a tad annoyed and a bit jealous of how well they were already getting along (which he knew they would, both of them have similar goofy personalities, however, it still annoyed him).

“Niall sit down, have you eaten anything? You can get whatever you want, it’s on me,” (Y/N) offered.

Niall sat down next to Harry and began conversing with (Y/N), asking her about her life, how old she was simple casual topics. Once the two of them got to talking there was no stopping them. (Y/N) thought Niall was so adorable she had made it a point to constantly call him cute throughout their entire conversation, and Harry didn’t like that at all. They were cracking jokes, telling childhood stories, talking as though they’d known each other for years and that just didn’t sit well with Harry. He didn’t want her to become close with Niall, he only wanted her from himself. Yes, it was selfish but Harry really didn’t give a damn, (Y/N) was his even though she wasn’t.

“Niall,” he interrupted the both of them

“What are you doing here?” he pressed.

“Hm?” Niall’s gaze lingering on (Y/N) to long for Harry's comfort.

“Oh yeah! I’ve been calling you all bloody morning so I could come to get you! I told you I had plans for us today and you didn’t answer mate!”

Harry had been ignoring Niall calls since him and (Y/N) boarded the train on purpose. He didn’t want to leave (Y/N) even though he knew he was going to part ways with her soon.

“Harry, why you ain't tell me you had made plans with Niall? I could've gotten you back to him sooner babe,"

"Yeah lad, been blowing up your line all morning! Could've sent a text or something," Niall chimed in, making Harry roll his eyes.

Harry was so damn annoyed with him. Why couldn't Niall come at a different time when Harry wasn't in the middle of telling her how beautiful he thought she was? Why couldn't Niall come at a time when they weren't at breakfast? Why’d Niall have to come now and take all the attention from him? Why couldn't Niall come at any other time than this? Harry knew he was going to have to reunite with him at some point, he knew he going to have to leave (Y/N) and go home which is why he just wanted to enjoy his last few hours with her alone.

“I... I just wanted to eat before I came back with you Nialler,” he lied.

“Well hurry up and finish what’s left on your plate. Gotta catch a tour at 11! S’ten twenty now, and we’ve still gotta take a bus to get there,” Niall instructed.

Harry looked up and locked eyes with (Y/N) who gave him a small faux smile.

“You guys should probably get going. I don’t think cute pie here would be too happy if you missed your tour.”

“Thank you! Someone who understands, now let’s get going H,” Niall grabbed his arm, ready to get going to the very expensive tour of NYC he paid a generous amount for (Niall wasn’t too keen on wasting money so he wasn’t about to let Harry blow through seventy-five dollars so easy).

↫ ↬

“Can I at least walk you to the train station?”

“You’ll be late for you tour babe, Niall really wants to go,” she smiled sympathetically.

Harry really really really didn’t want to fucking leave. His stomach sank and his mouth became incredibly dry. He'd known her for less than twenty-four hours and he was nearly about to lose it

“Well (Y/N), it was really nice meeting you. Again, m’sorry you had to go through the pain of sleeping in the same flat as Harry here,” Niall joked, earning a small laugh from (Y/N).

“Ah, you’re buggin’ it was really no problem. It was nice meeting you too cute pie,” (Y/N) smiled, pinching Niall’s cheeks before giving him a short friendly hug.

Harry frowned when it was his turn, the moment he had been dreading since she sat down on the park bench with him last night was finally happening.

“Don’t make that face babe. We’ll see each other again, you’ve got my number so you’d better use it or else I’ll be tight, m’kay kid?”

He sighed deeply and mumbled, “Okay”.

She pulled him into a bear hug, both of them wrapping their arms around one another not wanting to let go. Harry took one of (Y/N)’s braids and twirled it around his finger again for what seemed like the last time. He inhaled her vanilla perfume, desperately to remember small details about this girl before he left.

“This isn’t goodbye goodbye. Just... Goodbye for now, okay?” she tried to cheer him up, seeing how upset he was.

“Next time you bored and in need of somebody to talk to, or if you ever end up in The Bronx again just call me,” she grinned (Harry really adored her smile, it was one of the main features he was going to miss about her).

They unwrapped their arms around one another.

“C’mon Harry, we’ve gotta go!”

“Bye (Y/N),” the words tasting bitter coming from his mouth

“Bye babe, I’ll see you when I see you,” (Y/N) flashed him one last smile before turning and walking to the train station, Harry turning and walking to Niall.

Harry had a shitty start to his mini vacation that was totally unplanned but he’d, without a doubt go through it a million more times if it meant he got to see her again. (Y/N) was special and Harry would soon understand why his stomach fluttered every time she called him babe, why he was so entranced while playing with her braids, and why that his next trip to New York would be more memorable than the last.

[teamkaiforever]

CLOCK TOWER

Kai Parker x Reader word count: 3 092 warning: possible triggers summary: a few months months before ‘White Christmas’ *gif by me _________________________________________

Walking into the bar, Kai couldn’t help but notice all the people gathered there –  laughing, drinking and eating in groups while listening to the live band the manager of the Grill had contracted for the week. He walked over to the bar, quickly getting the cute bartender’s attention as usual and even before he had ordered his drink… a glass slid on the counter towards him. He gave her his best smile, adding a ‘thank you’ and turned around looking at all the people in the bar when he noticed something. Or more like someone. 

In one of the darker corners of the bar, alone with a tray with curly fries sat Y/N. Her elbow was on the table and her head rested in her hand. Usually her hair would be always in a tight ponytail though in that instant it was messy and her sideways loose ponytail was almost completely gone. For a moment he wondered if that was even her, though he quickly became 100% convinced. There was no way for him to forget those eyes or those hands. Not because they’ve been a couple, but because at the wedding when everything had seemed lost and he had though that would be it for him with the werewolf bite and everything … Y/N had been the one to go to him and try to help him as best as she could. That was three months ago, but he never forgot it or her. Instead she always found ways to sneak into his thoughts, into his dreams… and he couldn’t understand why. But what he knew was this feeling of warmth he got every time he was around her was something he never wanted to lose or let go off. In fact, he couldn’t get enough of it.

    “Hey, can I have another drink?” he asked and a few short moments another glass slid towards him. “Better yet, give me the entire bottle.”

Swiftly he made his way through the crowd to her table and the closer he got the more he figured something was off. Her smile was gone and it was almost as if there was an actual dark cloud over her head. Y/N reached her hand towards the fries and took one, then dropped it back in the plate. 

    “Mind if I join you?” he asked, almost making her jump up. Y/N looked up at him and sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you or anything –”

    “Be my guest.” she muttered, barely looking at him until a glass with bourbon found its way before her. “I don’t drink.”

    “Tonight, you do.” he nodded towards the glass. “And maybe you can tell me why you are so… not yourself at the moment.”

Y/N studied his face for a second, her fingers reluctantly wrapped around the glass and before she realized she gulped almost all of it at once.  “What makes you think I am not myself?” 

Kai reached towards her fries and took a couple before answering. “Where should I start? First your hair is all messed up, you have dark circles under your eyes, your skin is paler than usual, you look like the weight of the sky is actually on your shoulders and… for the first time since we’ve met you are not smiling. I could feel your dark presence across the bar. It’s really bumming me out.”

    “Well, then I’m gonna go and stop bumming you out.” she started to get up when he pulled her back in her seat with magic. “What the –” 

    “Talk to me. Come on, I talk a lot but I am a good listener too.” he took a couple fries, giving her a small smile. “And I really don’t mind listening to you. That’s the least I can do for you after saving my life.”

Y/N sighed, rested both her hands on the table and buried her face in them. Music blasted around them, loud and ruckus yet she could still hear her thoughts and drown in them; in every emotion that swirled through her heart and soul. A few seconds passed and he poured her another drink. She looked up and almost got lost in another sea of thoughts all because of the way he was looking at her.

    “So that’s your plan? Get me drunk enough so I spill all my secrets –”

    “No.” his lips curled into a small smile. “But I am hoping to see you smile. See, the thing is –” he leaned in closer. “There is something about your smile and the way your eyes twitch when you laugh that I find fascinating…Usually I’d just walk away, but with you… everything is different. And I won’t go away or let you go until you smile.”

    “Well,” she took a large sip from her glass. “You may be waiting a while.”

    “I don’t mind waiting.” he smiled. “I’m a patient man.”

Y/N glanced at him and sighed. Kai was the last person she had expected to see that night and even though the past few weeks she had been drowning in her thoughts and feelings, she didn’t know what to tell him. Days after days, weeks after weeks absolutely nothing went right in her life. Her parents used her as an emotional punching bag, yelling at her when they were upset with something else. Deadlines for assignments for school hovered over her head like a guillotine, threatening to leave her headless at any moment. Her boyfriend, someone who had claimed he loved her and would do anything for her… had used her and broken up with her, not giving a damn in what a fragile state she was. And her friends – well, they were busy dealing with all the supernatural stuff going on, trying to prevent a ‘doomsday’ like scenario for all of them. Not that she could blame them or anything but in the end, no one was around for her to talk to.Y/N didn’t feel comfortable calling her old high school friends, thinking she’d be bothering them. In a way, even though during her day she was surrounded by people everywhere, she was completely alone. Absolutely and utterly alone…. Until a few moments ago when her eyes met with Kai’s and that feeling started to dissolve so very slowly, she wasn’t sure if it was even happening for real. Yet his smile made her feel happy, in a way, for the first time in a long time.

    “Tell me.” he nudged her.

A quiet sigh left her lips and she trailed her finger across the glass’ lid.    “I don’t know why I am not myself.” she said so quietly if he wasn’t a vampire he would’ve missed it. “I can’t think. Nothing works out the way I want to, I can’t do a thing. I have this constant pit in my stomach like something is wrong… and I’m… alone.” she blinked fast a couple of times trying to blink back the tears that threatened to start rolling down her cheeks which seemed to happen a lot to her lately. “Being alone never bothered me before. I like silence… and being by myself used to be fun. But –” she sighed. “– everyone I know has someone, and I have a cat… who can’t talk, and as fun as he is, being alone –” 

    “It’s starting to weight on you.” he finished for her. His hand slid across the table towards hers and he gave her a gentle squeeze. “I know how that feels. But you are not alone. You have all your friends  –” 

    “Who are busy cleaning up your mess because you let the heretics out of 1903.”

    “Oh so it’s my fault?” Kai chuckled. “Oh-kay, yeah. That might’ve been a mistake. But… you still have me.”

    “A dangerous sociopathic vampire/witch hybrid wants to be my friend. I must be drunk already.” she gulped the glass before her at once.

Kai laughed under his breath for a second, raising his hands in defense. “Hey, you want to be alone. It’s fine with me but as someone who spent his entire life alone –” 

    “Because you killed most of your family and got banished into a prison world for it.” she snatched the bottle, looking into his eyes for a moment. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to – I… I’m such a bitch right now. I’m sorry.“ she sighed. “W-where they really that bad? I mean, there must’ve been someone who –” 

    “There wasn’t.” he swallowed hard, grabbing the bottle from her hands. “But we are not here to talk about me. We are here because a girl as beautiful as you has to smile and deserves to be happy and not to spend the night alone, sitting at a bar. Not even eating. How long has it been since you had something other than water?” he asked, watching her shift uncomfortably in her seat. Perhaps a bit longer than he had thought. “Anyways, what do you say? Friends?”

    “No.”

    “Come on.” he insisted. “If you don’t want to be friends then why did you save me at the wedding?”

Y/N glanced around the bar and sighed. “Because… I owed you one for saving me from certain death at the Salvatore library and … it was the right thing to do. You royally pushed it, but everyone deserves a chance and there is something about you. A light or something, I don’t know. It got me curious to see it grow, get brighter.”

    “Then give me a chance.” he said softly. “One night. Be my friend for one night.”

About a minute passed before she grabbed the bottle from his hands and took a sip directly from it. Y/N didn’t say a word at first. He was using her words against her but it was true. He could’ve walked away, he could’ve ignored her and pretended she wasn’t at the Grill. But he had chosen to check up on her.    “Fine.” she said, watching him smile widely at her words. “One night.”

During the following hour or so Kai and Y/N talked or more like he talked while she listened and for a moment he thought he had succeed in his mission to make her smile. Though every attempt seemed to end in failure. A couple of her old high school friends walked by, stopping for a few minutes to talk but even though her lips tried to curl into a smile as she talked to them, he could see her eyes watering. It was almost like her body was there but her mind was elsewhere. 

Every now and then her eyes would drift around the crowd, longingly finding something to look at. A young couple making out in the darker corner, some guy sitting alone at the bar with his phone in his hands or a group with friends laughing and talking. In a way he understood why she had that longing look. Most of his life he had been on the outside looking in, wondering what it would feel like to have your parents hug you instead of find ways to punish you because you were born different. But something seemed off to him. He could see in her eyes that a lot of things weighted on her and he wanted her to open up, to tell him knowing that’s the only way things would get better. He found himself carrying about her well being, about the way she felt and he couldn’t understand why exactly. It wasn’t like they were close or anything, they weren’t even friends more like sort-of-friends. Y/N was always there, almost unnoticeable, always trying to be good and do the right thing even if it meant going against her friends. There hadn’t been a person like her he had met and if she had said she had seen a spark of light in him, he was sure it had been because of her and the way she had touched his heart and soul the first time they had met.

    “How did you do it?”

    “Did what?”

    “See that light in me.” he said softly. “No one else does. They just see me as the monster who killed his entire family, the one who linked Elena to Bonnie, who are your best friends and yet …here you are. Giving me a chance not once but twice.”

Y/N stood up suddenly. “I’m going to um… the restrooms. Excuse me.”

Kai’s eyes followed her through the crowd until she slipped behind the corner where the restrooms were. His fingers wrapped around the almost empty bottle and he poured whatever liquid remained in his glass trying to figure out why she’d jump up so suddenly. Everything had seemed to be going fine, Y/N had seemed to relax a bit and go back to her old self but then she had shut down again. A couple minutes passed and he turned around with a glass in his hands. Y/N was taking too long and a part of him started to worry something had happened to her when he saw her by the bar. A sigh left his lips and he made his way through the crowd to her.

    “What took you so long –” he started to say when the girl turned around and it wasn’t her. “Sorry, I thought you were my friend.”

He looked around the bar searching for her, then headed towards the restrooms when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out noticing a text message from her and quickly swiped the screen, tapping on the large square in the middle. Thank you for trying. Meant a lot. said the text. ‘What?’ he mouthed, quickly dialling her number while listening in with his vampire hearing but the loud music made it almost impossible for him to concentrate, so he walked outside. When no one picked up the phone, he dialled again and that’s when he heard her voice. Almost a murmur with a nervous note, a kind of shakiness he had only seen in movies when people cried or were about to do something irreversible. Only what she was saying made his blood freeze in an instant.

‘Fast and quick. Painless too and you’ve always wanted to fly like a bird.’ she muttered. 

Kai followed her voice and took a few steps to the right towards the clock tower, looking up. There she was, standing on the edge and looking straight ahead while the light wind ruffled her hair. Her heart was racing faster than he had ever heard it before, so fast as if trying to burst out of her rib cage. He took a few steps towards the building’s entrance without taking his eyes off her for a moment, trying to figure out what to do.

 A part of him knew if she figures out he is down there, it might make her rush… the other was terrified he wouldn’t be fast enough getting there. But while he was attempting to figure out his next move, she made hers. Right as the clock struck 12.30AM her foot took a step off the ledge and she started to fall fast towards the concrete. His blood froze, a feeling he had felt thousand of times before in the Prison World washed over him – he felt like he was slowly dying every second he watched her fall towards the ground. By instinct Kai ran towards her, catching her barely a few seconds before she went splat. He held her tightly in his arms, glancing up at the tower and then at her with fear and shock in his face. Her eyes remained shut for a few moments longer before she opened them and they met with his. There were unshed tears in her eyes, pain and so many things he couldn’t even begin to understand.

    “A-are you okay?” Slowly he let her feet on the ground, still holding onto her with one hand while his palm brushed against her cheek. Y/N lightly shook her head as she refused to look at him. “Did you really just try to kill yourself? Y/N, suicide is a permanent decision for temporary problems. You are smarter than tha–”

Y/N to get free from his grasp. “Let go of me.”

    “No. No, I let go and you try again. Not happening. Not on my watch.” he said determined when she broke free and ran down the street. In a second he flashed before her. “Y/N, stop –” 

    “Who are you to talk Mr. I tried every method in the book?!”

    “There is a difference – I was trapped in a magical world where I couldn’t die! Dying there was a way to… press pause for half an hour. You jump and that’s it. No going back.”

    “Why do you even care if I live or die?!” she put her hands on his chest and pushed him off. “You care about nothing and no one!”

    “Usually I’d agree but…” he went after her. “Surprisingly I care about you. More than even I understand. I care about this girl who did something no one has ever done. The one who stood against all her friends and what they kept telling her about me and gave me a chance to turn my life around. I am just returning the favour and I’ll keep returning the favour. I’ll always be there to catch you when you fall.”

Y/N groaned in frustration, and stopped in the middle of the street. “Malachai Parker –” she said with tears in her eyes. Her hands balled into fists and she started to hit him while tears started streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t go on like this –” she started to sob, feeling his fingers wrap around her wrists. “I feel so hopeless, so alone and I hate it! I hate every fucking second of it! I hate the way the closest people I have treat me all the time. How I am always to blame, like I am a punching bag and not a real person! I can’t –” he pulled her into his arms. “I can’t live like this anymore. I don’t want to live at al—” 

    “You don’t have to and you won’t.” he said softly, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “You have me now. You will never feel alone again. I promise you.”

    “Y-you don’t mean it.” she said quietly. “You are just –” 

    “Taking care of my only friend?” he smiled at her. “Damn right I am. I might not have any experience with that but I am going to do my best because… I can’t lose you.”  _________________________________________ MASTERLIST - SMUT MASTERLIST - FLUFF ▪ ▪ ▪ kai!angst list 

[mechaspirit]

Christmas Wish (Part 1)

Author’s note: Alright, here’s my Christmas gift for @jakemckenzietrash. Thank you @choicessecretsanta for giving us a chance to do this. It wasn’t my best, but I did everything I can to incorporate the Christmas prompts you requested. Just make sure to know that there are two parts to this story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story and wish you a Merry Christmas!

Disclaimer: Definitely do not own any of the Choices books down below. Those are rightfully owned by Pixelberry.

Rated: T

Pairings: MCxJake, GracexAleister, CraigxZahra

Prompt: Opening presents during Christmas morning (Part 1) & first snow in the season (Part 2)

Part 2

Summary: Years after surviving and escaping La Huerta, the gangs gather around again to celebrate Christmas with each other. What will happened?

The presents are fun, but what really matters is being with your closest family and friends to celebrate this joyous occasion.

5…4…3…2…1…Ding!

As soon as the timer went off, Quinn quickly put on her over mittens and carefully open the oven door. From a safe distance, white smokes puffed out and behind them were trays full of cupcakes cooked to golden brown perfection. The redhead gently used a long, wooden skewer to poke the cupcakes, which was pulled out clean satisfying with her result.

“How did it go, Quinn?” Michelle asked her, as she’s finishing up with the frosting for the cupcakes.

“It’s perfect!” The red-headed angel chipped, “We just let them sit on the cooling rack and then decorate them afterward. In a meantime, we’ll work on the gingerbread house.”

“Got it,” the dark blonde hair woman replied before letting a sigh, “I’m praying that we’ll get everything done in time. It’s just…It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other and I want to make sure that everything is perfect for them. Especially on Christmas Day.”

Quinn smiled as she removed one of her gloves and wrapped her arm around the Vietnamese surgeon, “And it will be. Don’t worry, Meech. Everyone is going to be thrilled by the time all twelve of us are together. Just remember that.”

Michelle smiled a bit at the energetic ginger before frowning at an unwelcome sight nearby the kitchen counter where the ingredients and decorations for the gingerbread house are laid out. The dark blonde woman snatched a wooden spoon and whacked the thief’s hand away.

“OW!”

“Craig, how many times do I have to tell you to not paw on any unfinished desserts in the morning?!” Michelle yelled at the suspect.

“Aw, c’mon Meech. I’m only grabbing tiny candies and stuff!” Craig retorted.

“Nope. Never. Y’know Quinn and I need them. And in case you’ve forgotten, the guests are going to arrive at noon, so get your ass out to the living room and help out Sean and the others with the decorations! Or do I have to make you, myself?”

Not wanting to face another one of Michelle’s wrath of fury, Craig reluctantly submitted and dragged himself back into the living room to help out with the decorations. Quinn, on the other hand, is about to start decorating the desserts when all of a sudden, the doorbell rings.

“They’re here!”

Meanwhile…

“Get away from us, you scoundrel! Shoo!”

Right in front of Michelle’s house are Aleister trying to defend himself, his wife, and the gifts they were carrying from a fully grown black and white husky, who was running and jumping around them in excitement. When it looks like Aleister was about to drop the gifts, a loud whistle was heard.

“Ryo! Ryo, c’mere boy!”

The dog, now known as Ryo, turned around and head towards a familiar woman with blonde hair wearing a red coat and orange scarf. Right beside her is her friend with dark hair and skin wearing a black jacket over his purple shirt. From there, the woman knelt down as soon as Ryo came over, sat down, and beamed at his owner with excitement.

“Ryo, you silly dog. I told you not to run off and mess with Aleister like that,” she told him while scratching him behind the ears.

“Yurika, I would appreciate it if you keep that pet of yours under control!” Aleister yelled.

“Ahem. Aleister…” Grace gave her husband a warning looking, making the British man sweat and cleared his throat.

“Erm…Yurika, please make sure that dog of yours is behaving very well.”

“That’s better,” the bespectacled woman nodded with approval. Both Yurika and her best friend, Diego, laughed at the scene.

“Sorry about that. Ryo always get excited every time he meets new people,” the blonde woman said while she and Diego gave the couple friendly hugs (in which Aleister returned awkwardly), “It’s been so long. How’ve you two been?”

“Not to mention, we’ve heard that you’re having a new member to the family very soon, if you know what I mean!” Diego added excitedly. Grace responded by placing her hand over her baby bump fondly.

“Yes, of course. Aleister and I found out last month!”

“We were very nervous about having a child at first. Mostly I am,” Aleister admitted, “But at the same time, But at the same, we’re grateful to be given a chance to give a life our future child deserves...even after everything we’ve been through.”

Grace hugged her husband to the side while the others gave him reassuring glances, knowing what he was talking about. “Hey. All of that is over, Aleister. There’s nothing else to worry about except to look forward to the future,” Yurika told him, “And congratulations. You and Grace deserve to be happy.”

The married couple thanked Yurika for her kind words and blessing before heading towards the front door. The blonde turned to her friend, who seems to be staring at the sky, lost in thought.

“Something’s wrong?” She asked.

“Hmm? Oh! Nothing really,” Diego replied, “Just a little bummed out that there’s probably not going to be any snow this year. I’d give anything like to see that sign of miracle again.”

“Keyword. ‘Probably’,” Yurika quoted, “I wouldn’t count it out just yet, but hey. There’s something more important to look forward to during Christmas. Such as reuniting with our friends whom we haven’t seen for a long time.”

“Yeah. You’re right,” Diego agreed before noticing something behind his best friend then up towards the ceiling of the porch, causing him to smirk, “Rika, you might want to turn around, cuz it looks like someone’s waiting for you under the mistletoe.”

Before she can react, someone grabbed Yurika by the shoulders and turned her around before pressing his lips fully on hers. Realizing who it was, Yurika melted into a kiss before stepping back to get a full view of the person.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?” she said, “I thought you’re not going to be here until later tonight.”

“If it weren’t for the fact that there’s a snowstorm prevent me to make flights to Alaska, then yeah, I probably wouldn’t,” Jake told her, “Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss spending a whole Christmas Day with ya, Princess.”

Yurika couldn’t hide her blush and her smile from her favorite pilot. Instead, she kissed him again, slightly parting her mouth open, granting his tongue access to meet hers. Unfortunately for them, Diego cleared his throat before this scene can turn into a make-out session.

“Um…guys? I’m in for romance and all, but we’re still here.”

“Arf!” Yurika’s dog barked in agreement, causing them to laugh. As they head inside, Yurika grabbed Jake by the arm and whispered to his ear in an almost seductive manner.

“Don’t worry, Top Gun. We can always pick this up again later tonight.” This caused the brunette to smirk.

“I’m holding up to that promise, Princess.”

“Cheers!

The twelve survivors of La Huerta clink their glass of the signature drinks Raj made for them and decided to chat with one another for a bit before starting the gift exchange for old times sake. Turns out that they are definitely enjoying each other’s company. From sharing congratulatory events to Sean’s and Craig’s football career, to sharing info about Aleister’s and Grace’s business comes companies, and to pestering Yurika and Jake about their wedding plans much to the newly engaged couple’s annoyance (Long story short, Jake proposed to Yurika couple weeks ago, which pretty much got everyone’s attention). It was only then that Michelle clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention so that they can do the Secret Santa.

Raj volunteered to be Santa and passed out the gifts one by one, in which they were unwrapped almost immediately by the receiver. Some of the gifts were quite nice, such as a sports jacket Yurika received from Sean and cosmetics products Grace received from Michelle. Quinn gave Estela a dragon plushie, and although the latter didn’t show it, she adores her gift and literally held on to it for the rest of party. Other’s were...interesting to say the least. Zahra received a talking teddy bear from Craig in which he purposely replaced the microphone that says “I love you” from the chest to the...ahem...crotch of the fluffy toy. Everyone else could’ve sworn Zahra was gonna punch the lights out of the dumb jock, but instead, she laughed and called Craig an “idiot” and gave him a slight hug and, uncharacteristically, a kiss as a thank you. Aleister, for some odd reason, got a cologne with a panther on top from Zahra and the scent was too strong for his liking. Jake’s gift for Diego was more of a prank because it involves telling the latter that he only has seven days to live after showing him a video camera with “Sadako” on it. Realizing where the pilot got the idea from, this lead to Diego yelling/crying at Yurika “why did you tell him about that prank?!”

But everyone can agree Quinn enjoyed her gift the most, which is from Raj. By the time the mixologist gave her a box with a bow on it and let her open it, Quinn squealed in excitement and gently lifted up an adorable, white puppy who’s wagging its tail looking back at her affectionately. Turns out that Quinn misses Furball back at La Huerta, so Raj her a dog as a gift so that she can have a furry companion. As a result, red-headed angel gave Raj a hug as a thank you showing that it was one of the best gifts anyone could’ve given her. Quinn even allowed Ryo to become the puppy’s new playmate.

Everyone was having a great time and the party went on without a hitch. However…there is one setback that affected one person.

“So Quinn, are your parents are doing okay with… you know, each other?” Grace asked.

“Well, at least they aren’t constantly fighting and hating each other again, now that my illness is cured,” Quinn reply while petting her new dog, “But I guess old wounds die hard since they have hard times being next to each other. I am planning on heading back home again just to see if they any trouble mending their relationships.”

“Speaking of family visits, Craig, aren’t you and your family heading to Taiwan so you could see your relatives,” Sean asked his close friend.

“Yeah, bro. It’ll be nice to see them again,” Craig answered, “And I think Joey is more excited than I am since most of our cousins are around his age and they’re always fun to hang out with.”

The conversation about their families goes on, and one person in the room doesn’t seem to be enjoying it. Or rather, she can never bring herself to join into the conversations and clench her fists tightly together, hoping no one would ask her about her past. Instead, Yurika sat in silence while half-heartedly listening through the conversations as those uncomfortable feelings started eating her away.

[cyberianlife]

Fish Night

It was a bleached-bone afternoon with a cloudless sky and a monstrous sun. The air trembled like a mass of gelatinous ectoplasm. No wind blew.

Through the swelter came a worn, black Plymouth, coughing and belching white smoke from beneath its hood. It wheezed twice, backfired loudly, died by the side of the road.

The driver got out and went around to the hood. He was a man in the hard winter years of life, with dead, brown hair and a heavy belly riding his hips. His shirt was open to the navel, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The hair on his chest and arms was gray.

A younger man climbed out on the passenger side, went around front too.

Yellow sweat‑explosions stained the pits of his white shirt. An unfastened, striped tie was draped over his neck like a pet snake that had died in its sleep.

“Well?” the younger man asked.

The old man said nothing. He opened the hood. A calliope note of steam blew out from the radiator in a white puff, rose to the sky, turned clear.

“Damn,” the old man said, and he kicked the bumper of the Plymouth as if he were kicking a foe in the teeth. He got little satisfaction out of the action, just a nasty scuff on his brown wingtip and a jar to his ankle that hurt like hell.

“Well?” the young man repeated.

“Well what? What do you think? Dead as the can-opener trade this week. Deader. The radiator’s chickenpocked with holes.”

“Maybe someone will come by and give us a hand.”

“Sure.”

“A ride anyway.”

“Keep thinking that, college boy.”

“Someone is bound to come along,” the young man said.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Who else takes these cutoffs? The main highway, that’s where everyone is. Not this little no-account shortcut.” He finished by glaring at the young man.

“I didn’t make you take it,” the young man snapped. “It was on the map. I told you about it, that’s all. You chose it. You’re the one that decided to take it. It’s not my fault. Besides, who’d have expected the car to die?”

“I did tell you to check the water in the radiator, didn’t I? Wasn’t that back as far as El Paso?”

“I checked. It had water then. I tell you, it’s not my fault. You’re the one that’s done all the Arizona driving.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the old man said, as if this were something he didn’t want to hear. He turned to look up the highway.

No cars. No trucks. Just heat waves and miles of empty concrete in sight.

They seated themselves on the hot ground with their backs to the car. That way it provided some shade — but not much. They sipped on a jug of lukewarm water from the Plymouth and spoke little until the sun fell down. By then they had both mellowed a bit. The heat had vacated the sands and the desert chill had settled in. Where the warmth had made the pair snappy, the cold drew them together.

The old man buttoned his shirt and rolled down his sleeves while the young man rummaged a sweater out of the back seat. He put the sweater on, sat back down. “I’m sorry about this,” he said suddenly.

“Wasn’t your fault. Wasn’t anyone’s fault. I just get to yelling sometime, taking out the can‑opener trade on everything but the can openers and myself. The days of the door‑to‑door salesman are gone, son.”

“And I thought I was going to have an easy summer job,” the young man said.

The old man laughed. “Bet you did. They talk a good line, don’t they?”

“I’ll say!”

“Make it sound like found money, but there ain’t no found money, boy. Ain’t nothing simple in this world. The company is the only one ever makes any money. We just get tireder and older with more holes in our shoes. If I had any sense I’d have quit years ago. All you got to make is this summer —”

“Maybe not that long.”

“Well, this is all I know. Just town after town, motel after motel, house after house, looking at people through screen wire while they shake their heads No. Even the cockroaches at the sleazy motels begin to look like little fellows you’ve seen before, like maybe they’re door‑to‑door peddlers that have to rent rooms too.”

The young man chuckled. “You might have something there.”

They sat quietly for a moment, welded in silence. Night had full grip on the desert now. A mammoth gold moon and billions of stars cast a whitish glow from eons away.

The wind picked up. The sand shifted, found new places to lie down. The undulations of it, slow and easy, were reminiscent of the midnight sea. The young man, who had crossed the Atlantic by ship once, said as much.

“The sea?” the old man replied. “Yes, yes, exactly like that. I was thinking the same. That’s part of the reason it bothers me. Part of why I was stirred up this afternoon. Wasn’t just the heat doing it. There are memories of mine out here,” he nodded at the desert, “and they’re visiting me again.”

The young man made a face. “I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t. You shouldn’t. You’d think I’m crazy.”

“I already think you’re crazy. So tell me.”

The old man smiled. “All right, but don’t you laugh.”

“I won’t.”

A moment of silence moved in between them. Finally the old man said, “It’s fish night, boy. Tonight’s the full moon and this is the right part of the desert if memory serves me, and the feel is right — I mean, doesn’t the night feel like it’s made up of some soft fabric, that it’s different from other nights, that it’s like being inside a big, dark bag, the sides sprinkled with glitter, a spotlight at the top, at the open mouth, to serve as a moon?”

“You lost me.”

The old man sighed. “But it feels different. Right? You can feel it too, can’t you?”

“I suppose. Sort of thought it was just the desert air. I’ve never camped out in the desert before, and I guess it is different.”

“Different, all right. You see, this is the road I got stranded on twenty years back. I didn’t know it at first, least not consciously. But down deep in my gut I must have known all along I was taking this road, tempting fate, offering it, as the football people say, an instant replay.”

“I still don’t understand about fish night. What do you mean, you were here before?”

“Not this exact spot, somewhere along in here. This was even less of a road back then than it is now. The Navajos were about the only ones who traveled it. My car conked out, like this one today, and I started walking instead of waiting. As I walked the fish came out. Swimming along in the starlight pretty as you please. Lots of them. All the colors of the rainbow. Small ones, big ones, thick ones, thin ones. Swam right up to me…right through me! Fish just as far as you could see. High up and low down to the ground.

“Hold on, boy. Don’t start looking at me like that. Listen: You’re a college boy, you know something about these things. I mean, about what was here before we were, before we crawled out of the sea and changed enough to call ourselves men. Weren’t we once just slimy things, brothers to the things that swim?”

“I guess, but —”

“Millions and millions of years ago this desert was a sea bottom. Maybe even the birthplace of man. Who knows? I read that in some science books. And I got to thinking this: If the ghosts of people who have lived can haunt houses, why can’t the ghosts of creatures long dead haunt where they once lived, float about in a ghostly sea?”

“Fish with a soul?”

“Don’t go small-mind on me, boy. Look here: Some of the Indians I’ve talked to up north tell me about a thing they call the manitou. That’s a spirit. They believe everything has one. Rocks, trees, you name it. Even if the rock wears to dust or the tree gets cut to lumber, the manitou of it is still around.”

“Then why can’t you see these fish all the time?”

“Why can’t we see ghosts all the time? Why do some of us never see them? Time’s not right, that’s why. It’s a precious situation, and I figure it’s like some fancy time lock — like the banks use. The lock clicks open at the bank, and there’s the money. Here it ticks open and we get the fish of a world long gone.”

“Well, it’s something to think about,” the young man managed.

The old man grinned at him. “I don’t blame you for thinking what you’re thinking. But this happened to me twenty years ago and I’ve never forgotten it. I saw those fish for a good hour before they disappeared. A Navajo came along in an old pickup right after and I bummed a ride into town with him. I told him what I’d seen. He just looked at me and grunted. But I could tell he knew what I was talking about. He’d seen it too, and probably not for the first time.

“I’ve heard that Navajos don’t eat fish for some reason or another, and I bet it’s the fish in the desert that keep them from it. Maybe they hold them sacred. And why not? It was like being in the presence of the Creator; like crawling back inside your mother and being unborn again, just kicking around in the liquids with no cares in the world.”

“I don’t know. That sounds sort of…”

“Fishy?” The old man laughed. “It does, it does. So this Navajo drove me to town. Next day I got my car fixed and went on. I’ve never taken that cutoff again — until today, and I think that was more than accident. My subconscious was driving me. That night scared me, boy, and I don’t mind admitting it. But it was wonderful too, and I’ve never been able to get it out of my mind.”

The young man didn’t know what to say.

The old man looked at him and smiled. “I don’t blame you,” he said. “Not even a little bit. Maybe I am crazy.”

They sat awhile longer with the desert night, and the old man took his false teeth out and poured some of the warm water on them to clean them of coffee and cigarette residue.

“I hope we don’t need that water,” the young man said.

“You’re right. Stupid of me! We’ll sleep awhile, start walking before daylight. It’s not too far to the next town. Ten miles at best.” He put his teeth back in.

“We’ll be just fine.”

The young man nodded.

No fish came. They did not discuss it. They crawled inside the car, the young man in the front seat, the old man in the back. They used their spare clothes to bundle under, to pad out the cold fingers of the night.

Near midnight the old man came awake suddenly and lay with his hands behind his head and looked up and out the window opposite him, studied the crisp desert sky.

And a fish swam by.

Long and lean and speckled with all the colors of the world, flicking its tail as if in goodbye. Then it was gone.

The old man sat up. Outside, all about, were the fish — all sizes, colors, and shapes.

“Hey, boy, wake up!”

The younger man moaned.

“Wake up!”

The young man, who had been resting face down on his arms, rolled over. “What’s the matter? Time to go?”

“The fish.”

“Not again.”

“Look!”

The young man sat up. His mouth fell open. His eyes bloated. Around and around the car, faster and faster in whirls of dark color, swam all manner of fish.

“Well, I’ll be… How?”

“I told you, I told you.”

The old man reached for the door handle, but before he could pull it a fish swam lazily through the back window glass, swirled about the car, once, twice, passed through the old man’s chest, whipped up and went out through the roof.

The old man cackled, jerked open the door. He bounced around beside the road. Leaped up to swat his hands through the spectral fish. “Like soap bubbles,” he said. “No. Like smoke!”

The young man, his mouth still agape, opened his door and got out. Even high up he could see the fish. Strange fish, like nothing he’d ever seen pictures of or imagined. They flitted and skirted about like flashes of light.

As he looked up, he saw, nearing the moon, a big dark cloud. The only cloud in the sky. That cloud tied him to reality suddenly, and he thanked the heavens for it. Normal things still happened. The whole world had not gone insane.

After a moment the old man quit hopping among the fish and came out to lean on the car and hold his hand to his fluttering chest.

“Feel it, boy? Feel the presence of the sea? Doesn’t it feel like the beating of your own mother’s heart while you float inside the womb?”

And the younger man had to admit that he felt it, that inner rolling rhythm that is the tide of life and the pulsating heart of the sea.

“How?” the young man said. “Why?”

“The time lock, boy. The locks clicked open and the fish are free. Fish from a time before man was man. Before civilization started weighing us down. I know it’s true. The truth’s been in me all the time. It’s in us all.”

“It’s like time travel,” the young man said. “From the past to the future, they’ve come all that way.”

“Yes, yes, that’s it… Why, if they can come to our world, why can’t we go to theirs? Release that spirit inside of us, tune into their time?���

“Now, wait a minute…”

“My God, that’s it! They’re pure, boy, pure. Clean and free of civilization’s trappings. That must be it! They’re pure and we’re not. We’re weighted down with technology. These clothes. That car.”

The old man started removing his clothes.

“Hey!” the young man said. “You’ll freeze.”

“If you’re pure, if you’re completely pure,” the old man mumbled, “that’s it…yeah, that’s the key.”

“You’ve gone crazy.”

“I won’t look at the car,” the old man yelled, running across the sand, trailing the last of his clothes behind him. He bounced about the desert like a jackrabbit.

“God, God, nothing is happening, nothing,” he moaned. “This isn’t my world. I’m of that world. I want to float free in the belly of the sea, away from can openers and cars and —”

The young man called the old man’s name. The old man did not seem to hear.

“I want to leave here!” the old man yelled. Suddenly he was springing about again. “The teeth!” he yelled. “It’s the teeth. Dentist, science, foo!” He punched a hand into his mouth, plucked the teeth free, tossed them over his shoulder.

Even as the teeth fell the old man rose. He began to stroke. To swim up and up and up, moving like a pale, pink seal among the fish.

In the light of the moon the young man could see the pooched jaws of the old man, holding the last of the future’s air. Up went the old man, up, up, up, swimming strong in the long‑lost waters of a time gone by.

The young man began to strip off his own clothes. Maybe he could nab him, pull him down, put the clothes on him. Something… God, something… But, what if he couldn’t come back? And there were the fillings in his teeth, the metal rod in his back from a motorcycle accident. No, unlike the old man, this was his world and he was tied to it. There was nothing he could do.

A great shadow weaved in front of the moon, made a wriggling slat of darkness that caused the young man to let go of his shirt buttons and look up.

A black rocket of a shape moved through the invisible sea: a shark, the granddaddy of all sharks, the seed for all of man’s fears of the deeps.

And it caught the old man in its mouth, began swimming upward toward the golden light of the moon. The old man dangled from the creature’s mouth like a ragged rat from a house cat’s jaws. Blood blossomed out of him, coiled darkly in the invisible sea.

The young man trembled. “Oh God,” he said once.

Then along came that thick dark cloud, rolling across the face of the moon. Momentary darkness.

And when the cloud passed there was light once again, and an empty sky.

No fish.

No shark.

And no old man.

Just the night, the moon, and the stars.

Written by one of my favorite authors, Joe R. Lansdale, a Texas American writer and martial arts instructor.

This copy was electronically retrieved from The Horrorzine May 2011 Issue on 22 July 2020 although I first read this in 100 Hair-Raising Little Horror Stories, edited by Al Sarrantonio. 

Fish Night was recently adapted into an animated short as part of LOVE DEATH + ROBOTS, a 2019 adult animation web anthology by streaming service, Netflix.