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pedrito-friskito · 3 years ago

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the way we were / the way we are - chapter 3 - I got soul but I’m not a soldier

summary: bucky gets his orders, and you go see the future.

warnings: none, mentions of sex but nothing explicit

a/n: I have no idea how the army works LOL so anything about Bucky’s uniform/orders are completely out of pocket and tweaked to fit the story

also I was watching CA:TFA while I was writing this, so 99% of the dialogue is straight out of the movie. obviously tweaked a little to include reader in the scene. also also Steve/reader are gonna be best buds, that'll get explored a little more in future chapters

(series masterlist) (main masterlist) (ao3)

June 1943

Married life is harder to settle into when your husband is a soldier.

You don’t begrudge him anything; you know what you signed up for when you said yes. And it’s Bucky. There was no other answer, not to you.

It’s early summer, the heat not having quite settled over the city like it usually does by now, like a thick blanket of humidity. It’s still cool enough to wear a sweater when you go out, and most of your time is spent wandering the city with Steve and Becca, reading books behind the register of Barnes & Noble, and kissing your husband in the car at Lover’s Peak when he’s home for the weekend.

Every weekend, when you meet him at the station, you’re holding your breath, begging to whatever God might be listening that when he gets off that bus, you’ll see the same casually-dressed man you’re waiting for.

Because if he gets off that bus in full uniform, you know what that means.

You’re waiting (mostly) patiently for the bus to pull up, and you see when it rounds the corner, excitement filling in your gut. It comes to a stop at the curb, and you hold your breath as the doors slide open.

Every man who steps off the bus is in full uniform, and you’re quite certain your heart is in your throat. Bucky’s face appears, eyes locking at yours from under the brim of his hat. “Hey, doll,” he says as he approaches, holding out his arms. You collapse into his chest, gripping the lapels of his jacket. He puts his free arm around you, squeezing tight, and kisses the side of your head. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Where?” you manage to squeak out. Your knees are shaking so hard it’s a miracle you haven’t crumpled to the ground.

“London.”

Fear twists at your insides. “When?”

“Tomorrow. They gave us a day to come home, say goodbye. Gave us all tickets to that Stark Expo, too. I got extra, figured we can drag Steve and Becca along, Jane if she’s up for it.”

You’re nodding, but the words are barely making it to your ears. London. Halfway around the world. He’ll be halfway across the world, and you’ll be stuck here, without him, probably worrying yourself into an early grave.

Bucky notices the faraway look in your eye, the blank expression on your face, and leans down to kiss you. It breathes a bit of life back into you, and his hand moves to your cheek. “I’ll come back to you, Y/N. Always. No matter what. You know that, right?”

You just nod again, blinking away the tears that have already started to gather. “I know.”

“C’mon then, I wanna have a good night with my best girl and my best friend.”

You let him lead you away from the station, bag in one hand, yours in the other.

You stop by the bookstore to say hello. His mother is a sobbing mess when she sees him in uniform, and his father just gives him a brisk nod and a tight hug. “Be safe, son,” he says, and it makes your heart crack in your chest. His mother grips your arm as she watches the goodbye, and you pat her hand, trying to comfort her.

Becca follows the two of you out, practically falling over her own feet when Bucky announces he has tickets for the Stark Expo. It’s a semblance of normal, the two of you flanking Bucky as you walk down the street, each of you with your hands tucked into the crooks of his elbows.

You pass the movie theatre, heading in the direction of Steve’s house, when a loud clang makes you all stop short. Bucky cranes his head back, peering down the alley beside the theatre, and starts shaking his head.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he mumbles, and releases you both, heading down the alley.

“Bucky, be careful!” Becca yells, grabbing your arm.

You can already see the small figure at the end of the alley, a larger man throwing punches at Steve, who has the lid of a trash can in his hand, trying to block the man’s blows. You hear the sickening crunch of his fist connecting with Steve’s face and cover your hand with your mouth, wincing slightly.

“You just don’t know when to give up, do ya?” the man shouts, winding his fist back.

Steve puts up his own pathetic fists, clearly winded but still swinging. “I can do this all day.”

There’s another crunch, Steve falls to the floor, and then you hear Bucky’s voice echo through the alley. “Hey! Pick on someone your own size.” He grabs the man by the shoulder and hefts him back. The man takes a swing at Bucky, but he dodges the blow easily, returning it with a swift uppercut that sends the man wheeling back. He kicks him in the ass for good measure, and the guy takes off, clutching his jaw, barely sparing you and Becca a glance as he runs from the alley. You wait till he’s out of sight and then head down the alley, dragging Becca along with you.

Bucky is already giving Steve the gears when you reach them. “You know, sometimes I think you like getting punched,” he says with a shake of his head.

“I had him on the ropes,” Steve says, getting to his feet. There’s a bit of blood beneath his nose, and you rush forward, taking a handkerchief from your pocket and handing it to him. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Bucky bends down and picks up a piece of paper from the ground, and when he straightens, you see it’s an enlistment form. With Steve’s name on it.

“How many time is this?” Bucky asks him, looking down at the form.

“Paramus?” you ask, reading the form over Bucky’s shoulder. Becca is still clinging to you. “You’re from Paramus now? You know illegal to lie on the enlistment form, Steve. They could put you in jail for that!”

“And seriously, Jersey?” Bucky says.

Steve shrugs you both off, wiping the rest of the blood from his face and the dirt from his clothes, straightening to his full height. The top of his head barely reaches you chin. He takes in Bucky, the hat and uniform, then your still tear-streaked face and Becca clutching your arm. “You get your orders?”

Bucky’s face falls, and he looks down at his shoes. You reach out, take Steve’s enslistment form from him and tuck it into your purse, then grasp his hand in yours, fingers interlaced. His wedding ring is warm against your knuckles. His brow twitches and he lifts his head, looking at Steve. “The 107th,” and you hear Steve’s wheezy inhale. “Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.” You squeeze his hand and he glances over at you, sad smile on his face. “They gave us a night to come home, say our goodbyes, kiss our wives.”

The look on Steve’s face makes your heart break even harder than it already has, and he wipes at his nose again, another drop of blood sliding onto his lips. He shakes his head, looking down at the ground and scuffing his show across the pavement. He gives you a brief look, his eyes shining, and you blink hard, lifting your chin slightly. “I should be going,” he says quietly.

Steve brushes his hands off and Bucky just nods, then lets out a laugh. “Come on, man,” he chuckles, throwing his arm around Steve’s neck and all but pushing him up the alleyway. “My last night! We gotta get you cleaned up.”

“Why?” Steve asks, looking between the three of you. “Where are we going?”

“The future,” Bucky says simply, handing him one of the Expo tickets. Steve blinks down at the piece of paper. “Courtesy of the US military. One last hurrah before I head across the water.”

Steve looks at you, then at Bucky, and back again. “You sure about this? You don’t wanna spend your last night with your family, Buck? With your wife?”

Bucky tugs lightly on your hand, lifts his arm so you can slip beneath it. “I said goodbye to my folks already, and I’ll see them again when I take Becca home later. And I don’t plan on spending a minute apart from my wife until they put my ass on that boat. But you? You’re my best friend, Steve. You’re my family, too. So let’s go.”

You stick your hand out towards Steve. He glances between you one last time, then laces his fingers with yours and lets you lead him out of the alleyway, Becca at your heels.

The Stark Expo is nothing short of incredible. Your eyes are wide and your jaw is gaped from the second you step through the gate. Bucky is equally as impressed, his arm still around your shoulders, pointing out everything that catches his eye. “Y/N, look!”

Crowds fill every space on the Expo grounds, people gathered around small kiosks and stalls. Fireworks crackle in the sky every few seconds, all different colours casting a glow on the crowds below. Futuristic looking buildings fill the grounds, thirty different flags flying on masts that tower above your heads. There’s a large metal sculpture in the centre of it all, a wrought iron globe on a slight tilt. A pathway winds it’s way around, patrons filling the space, and there’s some kind of train zipping it’s way through, the cars moving from side to side, suspended in mid air from a high track. “Can we ride it?” Becca asks, and you just laugh, pulling her out of the way as more people barrel past.

Despite all the awe and hubbub surrounding you, Steve is still melancholy, and you have to fight the urge to join him in his feelings. Bucky, however, keeps trying to lighten the mood. It’s an act, you can tell. Your husband is scared out of his mind, but he won’t show it. You can see it, in the slight waver of his gaze, the way his hand shakes ever so slightly in your grasp, the way he keeps whispering I love yous in your ear because you know that after tomorrow? After he gets on that boat? You don’t know when the next time you’ll hear one.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” he’s telling Steve. The two of them are leading you towards one of the buildings. You have a tight grip on Becca, tugging her along; she’s just as awed as Bucky, and keeps pointing things out every few feet. “You’re about to be the last eligible man in New York. You know there’s three and a half million women here?”

You follow the boys down a set of stairs. “Well, I’d settle for just one,” Steve says. He glances over his shoulder at you, and Bucky follows his eyes. “Besides, you married the best one in Brooklyn.”

You stick your tongue out at Steve and he laughs.

“What about Jane?” Bucky says, eyes darting to you. He reaches for you again, pulling you close. “Y/N, you should set the pair of them up on a date. As my parting gift.”

You laugh, leaning up on your toes to whisper in his ear. “I have other ideas for your parting gift, Sergeant Barnes.” You settle back onto your feet and shoot Steve a wink. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Have you told her anything about me?” Steve asks. You tsk, swatting at his arm.

“Only the good stuff,” Bucky laughs, his arm settling around your waist. “Now, come on!”

Bucky leads the way into the building you’ve approached, and when you walk inside, you’re only more amazed. The space is huge and sprawling, easily as big as a Dodger Stadium, and same as the outside, filled with people. Small pavilions are set up everywhere you look, people milling about and inspecting the circular displays. Your feet drag a bit as you walk through, your eyes taking in every detail around you. The Earth’s Treasure. The Synthetic Man. It’s endless.

You walk around for a bit, and eventually Bucky catches a glimpse of a shiny red car on a stage along one of the walls, calling to Steve and Becca and leading you all over. “Welcome to the Modern Marvels Pavilion and the World of Tomorrow!” an announcer says over the loudspeakers. “A greater world. A better world.” Music plays over the speaker once he finishes, and you hear Becca behind you.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, tugging on the back of your sweater. “It’s starting!”

“Ladies and gentlemen!” a woman calls, her voice amplified by a microphone, and you see the stage light up, revealing the woman and four others in front of the red car, all identically dressed in striped vests and top hats. “Mr. Howard Stark!”

The audience erupts into applause as Howard Stark walks onto the stage, impeccably dressed in a perfect black tux and a top hat. He’s a handsome man, dark slicked hair and a perfectly combed moustache. The woman who had announced him walks across the stage and meets Howard halfway. He tips his hat to her, she takes it from him, and then he grabs her and plants a kiss on her. The audience goes crazy and the woman just winks to the crowd, handing Howard the microphone.

“I love you, Howard!” you hear a woman somewhere behind you yell.

Howard just smiles and pulls out a hankie, wiping the woman’s lipstick from his mouth. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he starts, “what if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all?” The crowd lets out a quiet gasp as the four women on stage walk around the car, pick up the tires, and pull them away from the car, revealing strangely-shaped mechanisms of some kind where the tires should be. “Thank you, Mandy.” He pulls a small control panel on a stand towards the front of the stage. “With Stark Gravitic Reversion Technology, you’ll be able to do just that.” With a final wink to the crowd, Howard adjusts one of the knobs on the control panel and flips a switch.

There’s a low humming sound, and you watch, dumbstruck, as the whole car lifts into the air, the mechanisms replacing the tires hovering nearly five inches off the ground.

“Holy cow,” Bucky mumbles, and you squeeze his hand. When you look up at him, there’s this stunned smile on his face, and he’s shaking his head slightly. “Flying cars.”

You laugh, and then a strange, warbling sound takes the place of the humming. The car wavers in the air, and then crashes down the short distance to the stage. The mechanisms spark, and the lights on the car go dark. The crowd is silent for a moment, and then scattered applause starts.

Howard is unfazed. “I did say a few years, didn’t I?” He laughs for a moment as the crowd continues to applaud.

Demonstration over, Bucky is ready to find something else. “Hey, Steve,” he says, squeezing your shoulder, “what do you say we treat these girls…” He trails off, his grip on you loosening so he can turn around completely. You follow him, realizing that Steve is no longer behind you. “Did you see where he went, Becca?”

She shakes her head, and Bucky lets out a huff, lifting his head so he can scan the crowd better. You do the same, and when your eyes land on the poster of Uncle Sam that’s taped up to one of the pavilions, an arrow pointing the way to recruitment. You reach for Bucky’s hand. “I know where he is.”

The recruitment building is just outside of the Expo; you’d had to walk by it to get in, and had been sure to distract Steve with some question about baseball to keep his attention elsewhere.

Sure enough, Steve is walking up the steps. Bucky releases you and takes the stairs two at a time, grabbing Steve’s shoulder and turning him. You stop at the bottom of the steps, close enough that you can still hear their voices. “Come on,” Bucky says, “you’re kinda missing the point of enjoying my last night in the city. We’re taking the girls dancing.”

“You go ahead,” Steve replies, shrugging off Bucky’s hand. “I’ll catch up with you.”

You can see the prickle in Bucky’s shoulders. “You’re really gonna do this again?” His voice sounds exhausted. You think about the enlistment form currently tucked in your purse; since Bucky’s enlistment and attendance to the training camp, Steve has tried to enlist four times in total, claiming a different residence every time, being turned away for his medical conditions each time.

The pair of you had met up to see a movie one day, something to fill the space between Bucky’s visits, and Steve had shown up nearly an hour late. He’d walked past one of the recruiting stations on his way to meet you, and had gotten…side-tracked. That was the third time he’d tried to enlist, and you’d berated him for it. “They’ll find out you’re lying, Steve,” you’d said. The movie had started long before he’d arrived, so you’d ditched that plan and opted for milkshakes instead. You gave him the same speech Bucky would have between sips of strawberry ice cream. “Or worse, they’ll take you, and you’ll end up dead. And where does that leave me?”

You’d felt guilty playing that card, but it was a last resort. Steve had quickly become one of your best friends, and not just because your only common thread was Bucky. Steve was the most genuine person you’d come to know in the city. He’d gone through hell, lost his whole family, but he still tried to look on the bright side of things. And he stood up for what he believed in. You knew that meant fighting the war, but it still didn’t hurt any less knowing that if Steve went across the sea, you’d be left alone.

He glances at you over Bucky’s shoulder now, but his voice doesn’t waver when he speaks. “Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.”

“As who, Steve from Ohio?” Bucky bites back. He’s exasperated now. You take one step up the stairs, but he holds up a hand to stop you. “They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.”

“Look, I know you don’t think I can do this,” Steve says. The defeated look on his face makes your chest hurt.

“This isn’t some back alley, Steve,” Bucky says, and his voice is climbing now. “This is a war!”

“I know it’s a war,” Steve replies.

“Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.”

Steve blinks up at him. “What do you want me to do, Buck? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?”

“Yes!” Bucky nearly shouts, throwing his hands up. “Why not?”

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.” Bucky tries to cut him off, but Steve keeps talking. “Bucky, come on. There are men laying down their lives.” His eyes cut to you for a second. “Men leaving behind everything they love and care about to fight. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

“Right,” Bucky says after a beat, nodding his head. “’Cause you got nothing to prove.”

Steve heaves out a breath, and Bucky opens his mouth to say more, but you call out, “Honey, come on, let’s go dancing.”

Bucky turns to you, holds his arms wise. “Of course, doll. We’re going dancing.”

You smile at him, try to convince him to drop the fight with your eyes, and you don’t miss Steve’s appreciative look behind Bucky, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Then Bucky turns back to his friends, his head shaking slightly, and even from your spot you can see the wetness of his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid till I get back,” he tells Steve, and takes a step down the staircase.

“How can I?” Steve retorts, a tiny grin tugging at his mouth. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky bounds up the steps then and pulls Steve into a tight hug. “You’re a punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve throws back, but it’s half-hearted. They clap each other on the back and Bucky pulls away. “Be careful. Don’t win the war till I get there!”

Bucky takes one step back, salutes Steve, and then turns on his heel, hurrying down the steps and joining you and Becca. “Come on, girls,” he says, reaching for your hand, “they’re playing our song.”

You head for the dance hall, the same one where you’d had your wedding reception. Becca quickly finds a few of her friends on the dance floor, leaving you and Bucky at the table you’d snagged the moment you walked in the door. He’d ordered a bottle of champagne, and you’re well into your second glass.

“You gotta watch out for Steve,” Bucky says. He’s leaning forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, one of your hands between his. He keeps kissing your knuckles, rubbing his thumb over your engagement and wedding bands. “While I’m gone. You gotta make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Like fight the war?” you ask. Something flickers in his face and he pulls back, still holding your hand, but his brows pull together. “I didn’t mean that.”

“You said you weren’t mad about it, Y/N,” Bucky says, eyeing you. “You said you weren’t mad at me for enlisting.”

“I’m not mad at you, James,” you say, sipping your champagne. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

He raises his brows at you. “Easy.”

You set the glass down on the table again. “I’m not mad at you, I’m not mad at Steve. I’m mad at the world, Bucky. I’m mad that I finally found you, found something that was mine, that no one else could have, and now it might be taken from me. Forever.”

He pulls you to your feet in an instant, one hand held in the air, his other on your waist, yours on his shoulder. His face has softened completely, and he leads you over to the dancefloor just as the band starts playing something slow and sweet, and you realize after a moment that it’s the same song you’d danced your first dance to on your wedding night.

“I’m not in the business of breaking my promises, Y/N,” Bucky says, his voice low in your ear as you start to sway. “Especially not to you. Never to you. I’ll always come back.” He brings your clasped hands to his chest, and you can feel his heart beating like a racehorse beneath your hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you reply, your voice betraying you and coming out all shaky and sad. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, doll,” Bucky says, kissing your forehead. “Just dance with me.”

You dance until it’s nearly midnight, and you’ve finished off the bottle of champagne. Becca wanders over to the table, yawning around her words and asking if you’ll take her home. Bucky pays the tab, gathers your coats, and you leave the hall, hailing a taxi to take you back to Barnes & Noble. Becca gives her brother a long hug before she disappears up the stairs, wiping the tears from under her eyes as she goes. Bucky waits until the door shuts behind her, and then takes your hand again, leading you to the small backroom of the shop.

It used to be an office, you think, but since you’ve been married, Bucky had turned the room into a small getaway for the two of you. The mattress on the floor is a bit lumpy, but you don’t really care. The room smells of books and there’s a few candles in the corners and on the desk that takes up the far side of the room. You light a few of the candles as Bucky removes his uniform, the buttons taking forever to come undone. He groans, frustrated when one of them gets stuck and you swat his hands away, pushing the button through its hole with ease.

He kisses your temple once. “What am I supposed to do without you, huh?”

You let out a little scoff as he finishes undressing, and you do the same, shrugging out of your sweater and starting on the buttons of your dress. It drops to the floor with the rest of your clothes and Bucky is on you in an instant, starting at your lips and kissing his way down. His fingers hook in your stockings, dragging them down your legs as he presses his mouth to the inside of your thigh. The familiar heat sparks in your belly and he pulls your stockings off slowly, followed by your undergarments.

“Even if this is my last night on earth,” he whispers, fingers tracing along your chin, tilting your head up so he can brush his mouth across yours, the lightest of kisses, “there’s no one else I’d rather spend it with.”

It’s slow. Slower than you’d gone on your wedding night, when you’d been nervous and new to making love. You’ve learned over the months since then, learned what he likes and doesn’t like, and more importantly, learned what you like and don’t like. Most of his weekend visits have been full of secret trysts, hiding from both your families, but this is different. There’s a certain kind of slowness to it.

He’s taking his time, you finally realize. He’s tracing your outline under his fingers, committing you to memory, memorizing the way you taste. Because it could be the last time he’ll have the chance.

Afterwards, you lie in each other’s arms, Bucky trailing his fingers up and down your spine while you lay on his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, and the movement of his hands is lulling you to sleep, but you can’t bring yourself to close your eyes.

“We really need to find Steve a girl,” Bucky says after a long silence, and you huff out a quiet laugh.

“He’ll find one,” you say, “when the time is right.”

“I meant what I said about setting him up with Jane.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t think she’d go for it.”

“No?”

You let out a yawn, cuddling deeper against Bucky’s warm body. “No.” You lift your head for a moment to kiss his lips once, then settle down again. “Goodnight, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky presses his lips to the crown of your head and pulls the blankets tighter. “Goodnight, Mrs. Barnes.”

It’s raining the next morning when you wake, droplets pelting the window in the office. The sound is soothing, a steady beat against the glass, but it’s fitting, you think. A grey atmosphere for a grey day.

You’re only just blinking your eyes open when Bucky starts to rouse, body shifting beneath you. You’re still on his chest, his arms still twined around you. He mumbles something you can’t make out, hands starting to trace shapes up and down your back.

“I’m gonna fall asleep again if you keep that up,” you whisper into his chest, turning your head to plant a kiss in the centre of it.

“Wish I could, doll,” he murmurs back. He kisses your forehead. “We should get up. I have to be at the station for eight.”

You just nod, following Bucky’s lead as he shifts you off of him, pushing the blankets back and rising off the mattress. He walks around the office, collecting the discarded pieces of his uniform and brushing them off. You watch him from your spot, still on the mattress, clutching the blanket to your chest.

You’re struck by how handsome he is, how his body moves as he dresses. The muscles of his back are sculpted and defined, and after a moment, you rise from the bed, blanket still tucked around you, and loop your arms around his waist, pressing your face into the dip between his shoulders. He lets out a low hum that vibrates through his body, covering your hands with his own.

“It’s selfish,” you mumble against his back, “but I don’t want you to go.”

He turns in your grip, brushing his fingers through your mussed hair. “I don’t want to go, either. I don’t want to leave you. I want to stay here, start our life together, see what’s in store for us. But if I don’t go out there and fight, if I don’t try and help us win the war, that might never happen.” He kisses your forehead. “And as much as I hate to admit it, Steve is right. There are men laying down their lives, and I got no right to do any less.”

You just nod. “Wish that kid wasn’t so well spoken.”

Bucky barks a laugh. “You and me both.”

You both dress quickly, you helping with the buttons and straightening the lapels of his jacket. You brush off his hat and hand it to him, and Bucky runs a hand through his hair before placing it on his head.

Before you leave, Bucky goes upstairs to say goodbye. You linger in the shop, wanting to give him some time alone with the rest of the Barnes family. You can hear his mother sobbing even from your place in the shop, and you do your best to ignore it, although all it does it add to the pain that’s started in your chest. Pain you don’t think is going to ebb anytime soon.

He comes back down, wetness rimming his eyes. You stand at the bottom of the steps. “Ready?”

Bucky lets out a little huff, but his back straightens and he lifts his hand in a salute. “As I’ll ever be.”

There’s a crack in his voice, but before you can say anything, he surges forward, gathering you into his arms and dipping you low, kissing you deeper than he ever has before. You cling to him, returning the kiss with just as much enthusiasm. He lifts his mouth from your after a long moment, the both of you breathless, and shuts his eyes, just holding you close in the back of the bookstore.

“Let’s go,” he says finally, straightening you in his arms and pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Before I change my mind.”

You leave the bookstore, arm tucked through his. You’re leaning against him the whole time, your head pressed against his shoulder, gripping his sleeve as though your life depends on it.

“Is Steve meeting us there?” you ask as you get closer to the station. Anxiety and sadness had been pooling in your gut from the moment you left the store, and it’s only building as you walk, making your hands shake.

Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t think so. We said our goodbyes last night. I need you to keep an eye on him for me, will ya? You know I worry about the kid.”

“I know,” you say, nodding, “and I will. Best I can.”

His hand covers yours on his arm and squeezes your fingers. “That’s my girl.”

You walk the rest of the way in silence, and when the bus station comes into view, your breath hitches in your throat. Men in uniform litter the station, families of all shapes and sizes gathered around them, wishing them well. There are a few young couples, not unlike you and Bucky. Most of the women are weeping, wet hankies in hand, and the men are shushing them and holding them close.

You freeze in place, Bucky still carrying on until your grip on him yanks him backward. He turns and looks at you, and you know your face is a mess of emotions, of love and sadness and terror. “Hey,” he whispers, pulling you close. “I’m coming back, Y/N. No matter what.”

You nod into his shoulder, but your mind is a mess. This is not real, this is not real, this is not real. This is some cruel joke being played on you. This isn’t happening.

The bus horn rings out twice, and the men start to shuffle onto it. Bucky looks over his shoulder, watching his comrades board. He hugs you tightly, nose buried in your hair for a moment, and then drops his chin, kissing you hard.

You’re reluctant to let go of him, and he almost has to pry your fingers from his jacket. “Go find Steve, okay?” he tells you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “Go find Steve, and I’ll write you, okay? I’ll send letters, Y/N, as often as I can.”

You’re nodding, you realize, tears slipping down your cheeks silently.

“Go find Steve,” Bucky repeats, kissing your forehead and then your wet cheeks. “I love you, Y/N.”

You just keep nodding.

One more kiss is pressed to your lips, and then he’s gone.

And your heart goes with him.

#the way we were / the way we are #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #the winter soldier fic #the winter soldier smut #bucky barnes x y/n #my fics

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hungnitan · 3 years ago

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Nigo “迷い子の手を引く、そのさきは“ Event Summary

I suggest to read this event after read hanamiyazaka school festival story (for MafuyuEmu interaction)

Card : Mafuyu Mizuki Len nigo + Ena Kanade

Feature : Nigo members (aside Kaito still not appears in their sekai) + Emu

Summary : Mizuki suggest to go to Wonderland Night Show for helping Kanade with next song idea, on the other side Mafuyu started her study for university exam then having some conflict with her mother after found a synthesizers which should be throw away before inside Mafuyu room.

The stories tells around Mafuyu struggle and a bit past when she's lost at theme park. While at first she declined join with members for theme park because of mock exam in the end she came there and rebel on her mother

In short this is about Mafuyu and her perfectionist mother in deeper than before. And if everyone notice her mother moreless like most Asian mothers do ! Saying things like "being a good kids or I won't love you" and "just listen to me it's for your future'' without know the real meaning to their kids...

And this story are TBC, at the end of story her mother notice a sign of rebelling after Mafuyu call and tell her that she's with her friends. When founds a should throw away synthesizers at her room Mafuyu get asked about it and she tells about making music with her friends for future reference and of course her mother asked around their inteligent and school achievement which make her disapprove the idea then ordering her to quit playing around yeah order she's not even asked her

Mentionable time and place plus cards :

These two cards happened at same scenes, Mizuki asked all member to come to Sekai for introducing Len Nigo (he’s really cutie~)

Len Nigo moreless having shy personality and morelike cute brother type and somehow in this Sekai Len and Rin aren’t twins as Len seems keep a distance to everyone include Virtual Singers ...

This card happened at theme park, as Mafuyu want to buy a drink to Ena Kanade after riding some game but she get lost along the way back. The other tell her wait there and find her, Kanade hold her hand so she won't get separated again. Then she feels a bit warm from Kanade hand while it's different with her mother cold hand...

I don't remember seeing this scene along the way so maybe untelling stories at Wonderland theme park as mostly we don't know what happened at their night time.

Just read Ena and Kanade card, there's nothing at Ena but Kanade one telling a bit about night show scenes (so more details into Mafuyu card I guess...) and afterstory. In the end Mafuyu just comeback home then seems something happened there Kanade POV doesn't tell in detail but I can second guessing though. So Mafuyu just tells she won't join nigo chat mostly but still doing her job there

Rarity, somehow still agreed as Kanade mostly getting *4 for Nigo centric stories so sometimes she should demoted to *2 (lol) but yeah this line up pretty good itself

Bug (Theme Song), pretty resemble with Bocca della Verità at some parts but having different genre like this sounds good for refresher~ and turn out Kairiki Bear making venom song 🤣

I think Kairiki Bear really doing a good job for lyrics, I can't say for sure but Mafuyu struggle for keeping her mother high expectation sounds real there and sounds like she's gonna throw up soon...

I kinda like the theme especially Mafuyu one, living at castle (maybe or somewhere along the way) but warped in vines with suffered face, pointing her growth since until now we only saw her blank face.

I want Len (his after change pretty good) so already try 30 pull and of course nill~ but in the end I gathered 30 ticket and exchange Touya Rad Dogs so I’m still happy

#project sekai #prosekai #25 ji night code de #nigo #mafuyu asahina #mizuki akiyama #len nigo #ena shinonome #kanade yoisaki

18 notes · View notes

ppangjae · 4 years ago

Text

PLANET GIRL | part two

SUMMARY. When Jaehyun turned twenty-one, he started to hear his soulmate’s voice singing an unfamiliar song in his head. He should be happy, right? Wrong. There are two things wrong with this:

He’s taken. He’s off the market. He’s in a 3-year relationship and,

The voice singing in his head is not his girlfriend’s voice.

Now what?

WORD COUNT. 5k+ words

author’s note. finally LOL. it’s been a hot minute. here’s part two! also, i’ve gotten such positive feedback for part one and i wanted to say thank you for reading and enjoying it! i hope you enjoy this update! happy reading!

PART ONE. cupid | PART TWO. jupiter | 2.5 intermission | PART THREE. PLANET GIRL

The humming and singing in his head follows him in his sleep. But don’t get him wrong, the unidentified voice of his soulmate singing in his head doesn’t haunt him to sleep. It actually helps him fall asleep, especially on nights where the future seems so out of reach and unpredictable, where he wonders how he’ll break it to Ara that he’s not the man she’ll be spending the rest of her life with even though they’ve been together for three long years. In fact, the harsh reality of his relationship with Ara is a nightmare caused by the voice that sings in his head, but it so happens to be the same voice that puts him in a deep, peaceful slumber.

How ironic.

One night, the humming hums louder and louder that it prompts him to wake up. His eyes land on his keyboard sitting in the far corner of the room. His feet carelessly drag him towards the keyboard and he plops down onto the seat with a soft ‘oof’. As he gently places his fingers down onto the keys of the keyboard, his eyes flutter shut and he focuses on the melody echoing through his head.

As if his fingers had a mind of its own, they start playing out the melody by ear. The corners of his lips twitch up into a soft smile. It’s almost like a lullaby, but he’s forcing himself to stay awake and take in the sweet melody. Soft humming, inaudible words mumbling in between. He’s sure he’s never heard such a song before.

Suddenly, the humming halts to a stop and his eyes flash open. There’s a sudden feeling of loneliness. He lets out a sigh before an idea pops into his mind. Immediately, he grabs a blank piano sheet, forcing himself to recall the notes he had translated from his soulmate’s humming in his head.

It takes a while. It takes him a while to get it all on one piano sheet. But when he does, there’s a feeling of sweet victory. It’s like he’s accomplished something big. It’s like he’s one step closer to finding his soulmate.

“One day,” he mumbles to himself, staring at the piano sheet with a faint smile spread across his lips. “I’ll finally meet you.”

His thoughts are cut short when his phone vibrates to notify him of a text message from, oh right, his girlfriend, Ara.

It’s a situation that cannot be helped.

It’s May and the cherry blossoms bloomed and the pout on your face almost seems permanent. You’re not sure what to do anymore. Time is surely ticking and yet, you haven’t started fulfilling your duties of bringing Ara and Yuta together. It’s your consciousness that’s keeping you from doing it. It’s Jaehyun’s innocence that’s keeping you from doing it. It’s Ara’s friendliness that’s keeping you from doing it. Yuta, however, you’re not quite sure—

“I had a feeling it was you, but I wasn’t fully sure.”

You snap out of your trance, following the source of the unidentified voice. Yuta’s looking down at you with a soft gaze. He shifts his gaze towards the cherry blossom petals that have landed on the top of your head. He gently removes them from the strands of your hair.

“Thanks,” you mumble, suddenly feeling shy by the nice gesture.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asks, pointing towards the empty seat next to you on the bench.

You shift down the bench, making more room for him. He takes it as a ‘yes’ and sits next to you, looking up at the cherry blossoms. You awkwardly fiddle with your fingers. “So—”

“Homecoming.” He interrupts you. “Be my date?”

“What?” You blurt out. You look at him as if he has three heads sitting on his neck. He tilts his head, analyzing you carefully. He points at the event flyer you have in your hand. You almost forgot it was in your hands. You’re caught off guard and you cover it up with a fake cough. “I mean—why would you ask me—or—we’re not even close—”

“Because the one I want to go with is going with someone else.” He shrugs his shoulders. He lets his head hang low and you feel bad for him. That is, until he looks back up with a mischievous grin spread across his lips. “And I’m sure the one you want to go with is going with someone else too.”

“I don’t,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I don’t have someone in mind that I want to go to homecoming with. Besides, I always pass up on homecoming.”

“You do have someone in mind.”

You squint your eyes with suspicion. “And how would you know what?”

He smirks. “Because I’m a mind-reader.”

“A mind reader—”

“And a Cupid.” He cuts you off.

It takes you a couple of seconds for you to process his words into your mind. But when they finally make sense to you, all you could do is burst out into laughter. Yuta’s eyebrows furrow in confusion when you bend over to continue your laughing fit.

“You—You’re a—You’re a Cupid?” You laugh. “You’re a funny guy, Yuta. I never thought you’d be the funny type.”

He looks at you innocently. “But… I am a Cupid.”

“And a mind reader?” You question, stifling another laugh.

He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, now that was a joke. I’m not a mind reader but I am a Cupid—”

“Then that means you could read my mind, right?” You ask.

“Well—”

“Two words. I have two words on my mind right now.” You begin. “Can you read my mind? Do you know what they are?”

“I—”

Your laughing fit dies down and you look at him dead straight in the eye. Yuta feels his blood run cold. Were you ever this cold-hearted and intimidating? What seemed like a light-hearted conversation turned into a conversation he wishes would just end already.

You purse your lips into a tight line. “Nice.. try. I’ll see you around?”

Yuta watches you as you begin to walk away from him. When you’re a couple of metres away from him, your pace slows down. Looking down at the flyer for homecoming, you hesitantly look over your shoulder to see Yuta catching cherry blossom petals from the tree. He can’t be, you think to yourself, shrugging off your thoughts. As you continue on your own way, you hear your name being called out.

Turning around, you spot Yuta looking at you with a grin. “Yes, Yuta?”

“The offer still stands if you’re interested!”

“But I’m skipping out on homecoming again this year. Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“Have you seen the homecoming flyers all over campus lately?”

Jaehyun tilts his head in confusion. “Johnny, this wasn’t a part of the script—”

“Have you?” Johnny gives him a warning look.

Jaehyun lets out a scoff. For the nth time this evening, Johnny decided to disregard the script that they planned out for almost a week. He will seriously kill Johnny during commercial time. But Johnny is completely invested in ticking Jaehyun off.

“Yes I have, Johnny.” Jaehyun says through gritted teeth. “And what about it?”

“Well, for those who don’t know, this year, the university’s event committee decided to spice things up with homecoming.” Johnny pulls out another piece of paper that so happens to be a different script. “I’m just relaying this from the event committee. Homecoming will be completely different this year! Prepare your suits and dresses and pair them with masks because this year’s homecoming will be a masquerade ball.”

Jaehyun almost choked on air. “A masquerade ball?”

Johnny nods his head. “Yes, which will make the night a bit more interesting. Imagine falling in love with someone on the night of homecoming but you’re blacked out drunk that you forget to ask for their name or their—”

“What is this, modern-day Cinderella?” Jaehyun jokes.

Johnny snaps his fingers and points at him. “Bingo! Now, if you’re interested in getting tickets for this year’s homecoming, the event committee will be putting up a ticket booth starting next week up until the week before homecoming. Make sure to get your tickets! Will you be getting tickets, Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun is completely baffled. The event committee must’ve commissioned Johnny to have homecoming promoted on the radio show. “Yes. I’ll be getting tickets. Will you?”

“Of course! Now, speaking of Cinderella, there’s someone out there that reminds me of the lovely princess.” Johnny begins to segway into the next song. “We’ve been playing this artist’s songs on the show for quite some time now, but until this day, we don’t know who this artist truly is. Rumour has it that this artist is a student of this university.”

Jaehyun’s ears perk up. Is Johnny talking about someone who he thinks he’s talking about?

“Planet Girl, if you’re listening to the show right now, feel free to hit us up! We’d love to meet you and find out who you are!” Johnny continues. “Here’s Planet Girl’s new single, My Future.”

As Johnny mutes his microphone, he leans back against his chair. He could feel Jaehyun’s burning gaze drilling two holes through the side of his face. Jaehyun frowns. “How much did they pay you to advertise—”

Jaehyun’s mouth clamps shut when the song begins to play through his headphones. It’s familiar. It’s terrifyingly familiar that his blood runs cold and he starts to get goosebumps. He’s heard of this song before. He didn’t hear this song on the radio. He didn’t hear this song in the local cafe he usually gets his morning coffee from. He didn’t hear this song on shuffle on a random evening. In fact, he’s heard this song—

“You were saying, Jaehyun?” Johnny snaps him out of his distant gaze.

“What—What was I saying?” Jaehyun chokes out.

“You were saying something about—you know what? Nevermind, it’s not really important.” Johnny mumbles, waving it off. He stares at his co-host who looks like he’s gotten his soul sucked out of his body. Jaehyun looks quite odd. “It’s not really important… anymore.”

Jaehyun’s heard this song before.

In fact, he’s heard this song, this melody, in his head.

Jaehyun scoffs in disbelief. “She can’t be.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “Who can’t be what?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “N-Nothing.”

Planet Girl’s voice is the voice singing in Jaehyun’s head.

Planet Girl is his soulmate. What is he supposed to do with this information now?

“They played it! They played it!”

Mark barges into your room with his hair disheveled as if he had just woken up from a nap. He has his headphones on and his glasses seem to have been lazily put on, for they’re sitting lopsidedly on his face. You look at him endearingly, shaking your head and letting out a soft chuckle.

“What did they play?” You ask, pushing yourself away from your desk.

Mark takes off his headphones and yanks out the other end of the wire connected to the AUX jack, turning up the volume of his phone. The song being played on his phone is a soft melody, almost similar to lofi. You lean back in your desk chair, spinning around in slow circles as you listen to the song. Mark waits for some sort of live reaction from you.

“I’m guessing this is—”

“Planet Girl.” Mark cuts you off. He tosses his phone onto your bed, followed by the flinging of his own body onto the mattress. He lies down with his back against the sheets, a smile slowly forming across his lips.

You analyze him. “Do you like the song?”

He nods his head. “I love it.”

You purse your lips into a tight line, slowly turning back around to face your desktop screen. You blow a raspberry, hesitant to ask him a question. “Do you ever wonder who she is?”

“Who? Planet Girl?”

You hum in reply. “Yeah. You seem to like her music a lot. Don’t you ever wonder who she is? What she looks like? If she puts cereal before milk—”

“Every now and then, when I listen to her music, I do wonder who she is and what she looks like. But I also think that if she were to reveal herself, the entire campus would go nuts.” Mark explains. “I think that she should lay low for now. She’s extremely popular to be exposing herself. Unless, that’s her plan.”

“What plan?”

“To reveal herself when she becomes popular. It could give her more leverage. But it seems like she just makes music as a hobby and I’m not sure how her personality is, which means that she probably isn’t interested in ever revealing her identity. I guess it just really depends on her.”

You slowly nod your head. “I see… makes sense.”

Suddenly, your desktop computer crashes and shuts down. You find yourself staring at your reflection through the desktop screen that’s turned off. Your mind seems to wander off to your current situation. Ara… Jaehyun… Yuta… All of your past love assignments weren’t as messy as this one. It may be because you have a good heart and you hate ruining people’s lives. But at the same time, there’s a risk you must take in order to save your own life.

You’re not sure what’s better: ruin a relationship to keep your abilities or keep a relationship and lose your abilities. What are you destined to be? Are you destined to be a Cupid for the rest of your life? What’s the point of existing if you’re only placed on Earth to bring two soulmates together? What’s the point of existing if you can’t even find your own soulmate, your own happiness, your own freedom? Will you be locked down with this curse forever? At this point, do you even know yourself?

Mark turns up the volume of his phone to its maximum and as you analyze your reflection, the lyrics to the song begin to echo in your head.

And I, I'm in love But not with anybody else Just wanna get to know myself

You almost let out a laugh.

What a coincidence.

“Did she really know what I meant when I said, ‘you know where to find me’?”

“Yuta?”

He jerks up, his posture straightening at the sound of your voice. He turns around to see you standing right behind him. You tear your gaze away from him as a cherry blossom petal catches your eye. It falls gracefully, landing on top of his head. The situation feels all too familiar, especially when you pick out the cherry blossoms that landed on his head.

You chuckle. “Sorry, did I scare you? Am I that scary to you?”

He shakes his head. “No. I just—I just didn’t expect you to come.”

“Oh, well, I’m here. Let's just get to the point of why I’m here.”

He grins. “Have you made up your mind?”

You hesitatingly nod your head. “Yes, I have.”

“Hm, I wonder, am I going to be dateless this year at homecoming—”

“I’ll be your date.”

His eyes widen like saucers. “What?”

You smirk. “What? Did you expect me to say no or something?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I mean, yeah, but—”

“But there’s a catch to this.” You fold your arms. “I’ll only be your date to homecoming if you help me with something. This isn’t just a give and take situation.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Yuta feels his blood run cold.

“You want me to do what now?!”

You give Yuta an innocent look. From an outsider’s perspective, it looks like the two of you are in the midst of making a deal. And you both sure are, but what you’re not sure of is whether Yuta will help you out.

You clasp your hands together. “It’s simple. I’m a Cupid and—”

His loud laughter cuts you off. He’s laughing so hard that he bends over and almost hits his head against the table. You’re afraid that he’s going to knock his cup of coffee over too. You look at him with confusion.

“You—You’re a—You’re a Cupid?” He stifles a laugh. “You’re a funny one, Y/N. I never thought you’d be the funny type.”

“But… I am a Cupid.” Oh, how the tables have turned.

His laughing fit dies down. “And how would I know that you’re not joking around?”

“Because I really am… a Cupid.” You deadpan.

He snorts. “Yeah, and I’m Mickey Mouse in the flesh.”

“What do I have to do to make you believe me?” You sigh, leaning back against the cushion of the booth and looking out the window. There’s a couple that stops and stands outside of the cafe, skimming through the pages of the cafe’s menu. Yuta swears he could see a glint light up in your eyes.

“It’ll take a lot for me to believe you—”

“Ara is your soulmate.”

Yuta’s face pales at the words that slip past your lips. You’re too busy staring at the couple outside of the restaurant. You let out a soft sigh, looking away from them to meet Yuta’s gaze. Yuta gulps nervously. “How would you know that?”

You fold your arms. “Because I’m a Cupid.”

“No, how would you—how would you know such a thing?” He says, completely in disbelief. You squint your eyes at him in suspicion. He seems to grow nervous whenever Ara is brought up as the topic of conversation. Huh… it’s cute.

“Valentine’s Day.” You mumble. “On Valentine’s Day, I bumped into Ara. I’ve never met her until that day. Usually, I’ll forget about people I bump into. It’s just a fleeting moment. But Ara… I’ll always remember her. Why? Because when I looked into her eyes… I saw you.”

Yuta’s eyebrows furrow. “You saw me? Through her eyes?”

You nod, a small smile spreading across your lips. “Correct.”

“I don’t believe you.” He shakes his head. “If you saw me through Ara’s eyes, what was I wearing on Valentine’s Day, then?”

“Your soccer jersey. You were attending soccer practice.”

“Holy shit.”

You chuckle. “Believe me now?”

He raises up his hands in defense. “Say less. What else do you want me to do?”

When Yuta asked you what you wanted him to do in return for being his homecoming date, he did not expect this. He did not expect to use all of his willpower to tear Ara and Jaehyun’s relationship apart. He did not expect to find out that you’re a Cupid, just like him.

You’re a much more different Cupid than he is. He has the ability to matchmake, to tear two people apart when they’re not destined to be together. But when it comes to someone like Jaehyun, who so happens to be dating Ara, he suddenly doesn’t know what to do. But you’re different. Here you are, fulfilling your duties no matter what the circumstance, even if it meant that you had to ruin the relationship of two people you know.

Here you are, spying on him as he hesitatingly takes a seat next to Ara on the bleachers.

“Oh, hey, Yuta.” Ara greets him, grabbing a towel for him. “Here, it looks like you need it.”

“Thanks,” Yuta mumbles. “Hey, are you going to homecoming this year?”

Ara takes a quick swig of her bottled water, nodding her head. “I’m going. Are you?”

“I am. I’m guessing you’re going with Jaehyun?” He asks, internally facepalming himself. What kind of stupid question was that? He glances towards you, and you gesture him to continue. “Well, yeah, duh, of course you’re going with Jaehyun. Have you picked out your dress yet?”

Ara slowly nods her head. “I picked it out last week, actually! I’ll be picking it up this weekend.”

Yuta scratches the back of his head. “Well, my date doesn’t know where to get her dress. Do you have any suggestions?”

“She can pick one out at the shop I went to! Here, I’ll send you a picture of my dress along with the shop’s address so that you can show her.” Ara pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through her photo album, sending him a photo of her dress.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket. “Thank you so much, Ara. I’ve been stressing out for almost a week because of this—”

“No worries!” Ara giggles, placing her hand on his shoulder. “If you need help, just let me know! You have my number, anyways.”

He smiles, almost a bit too wide that he covers it up with a cough, looking away from her. He settles his gaze towards the clouds in the sky, leaning back against the bleachers. Ara joins him, lying right next to him. Meanwhile, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You hide behind the tree, leaning against the trunk. As you read Yuta’s text message, a grin spreads across your lips.

“Bingo.”

“I think I’m going crazy.”

Jaehyun laughs to himself, placing his face in his hands. He lets out a sigh. The same stupid song has been on repeat for hours. It’s odd how the sound of his soulmate’s voice could make him go crazy, how it could make his heart flutter and do cartwheels on end, how it makes him fall into a distant trance. He wishes he knew who it is. He wants to know who it is. But how?

He pulls out his laptop, roaming the internet until he finds himself stumbling upon SoundCloud. A few clicks here and there, and he’s staring at Planet Girl’s profile. Planet Girl is consistent with her privacy. She doesn’t have a profile picture of her face, it’s a picture of a pink jupiter, with its outer rings a glowing gold. Her profile doesn’t even show her real name nor her age.

How is he going to find out his soulmate’s identity if his soulmate is making it ten times more difficult than it should be?

“I’m just… hopeless at this point, I guess.”

His eyebrows raise and he leans closer to the screen when he notices a new track released on her profile. The song was released two days ago. He clicks on play, shoving his earphones into his ears.

Oh, wouldn't it be nice if we could stay friends? But we Shouldn't, you know what I Couldn't, 'nough's enough If I had your heart, it wouldn't be this hard

He sighs. If he had his soulmate’s heart, if only his soulmate even knew that he was searching for her, it wouldn’t be this hard.

What a coincidence.

“I’ll pick you up here, alright?”

Mark looks out through the rolled down windows of his car. He sees you nod your head. “Alright. I won’t be long. I just need to run a few errands, visit my parents just to get some snacks for the apartment.”

“I’ll see you. Call me if you need anything or if you finish early.” Mark insists and you salute to him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, take care.” He rolls up the windows to his car and begins to drive off.

You roll on the balls of your feet, watching his car get smaller and smaller as it travels farther and farther down the road. To make things less suspicious, you begin to walk in the opposite direction of his car, looking over your shoulder every now and then. When you look over your shoulder to see Mark turn a right at an intersection, you stop in your tracks.

You stand there for a couple of more seconds before making a beeline for the apartment building right across the road. You pull out a separate key that’s not grouped with your usual apartment key. Hopping into the elevator, you look into the mirror and comb fingers through your hair. You put on some lip balm before sucking in a deep breath.

As the elevator reaches the seventh floor, the doors open with a soft ‘ding!’. You step out of the elevator, making your way down the hallway. Right when you reach a door and right before you begin to knock, the door opens to reveal—

“Y/N, my favourite person on the planet!”

You chuckle. “In the flesh.”

“Come on in. You know what to do to get comfortable. Grab a cup of water to warm up your vocals. I’ll be by the computer and whenever you’re ready, we can get started.”

You smile. “Thanks, Taeyong.”

He pats your shoulder. “No biggie, Y/N.”

Yuta looks up at a familiar apartment window. The light is turned on. He squints his eyes in suspicion. He sees a shadow hover in front of the curtains of the window and it urges Yuta to hide behind a lamp post. He peeks from behind the lamp post to see Taeyong opening the curtains of his window. Taeyong stretches his arms and lets out a yawn. Yuta’s about to go back to his business when a familiar figure catches his eye. He looks up to see you. You have headphones on and you’re talking to Taeyong. The moment you stand behind the microphone and place music sheets onto a music stand, Yuta feels the gears turn in his head.

“Yuta?”

He tears his gaze away from them to see Ara. “Oh, hey, Ara. We keep bumping into each other, don’t we?”

Ara chuckles. “Yeah, that’s so funny! I just finished up my shift at the cafe and I was just about to go on my way when I thought you looked familiar. Turns out it was you.”

“Ah,” Yuta chuckles sheepishly. “Well, I was just on a convenience store run. I was running out of cup noodles so I decided to stock up on it.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”

Right on cue, Yuta’s stomach grumbles. The two of them share a look before bursting out into laughter.

“Let me treat you out for lunch,” Ara insists.

His eyes slightly widen and he begins to panic. “I—well—I don’t want to be a burden. You might have some plans with Jaehyun and I don’t want to bother—”

“There’s nothing to worry about! Jaehyun’s busy working with Johnny for their show tonight. Let’s have lunch, besides, I haven’t eaten yet and I’m pretty hungry too.”

“S-Sure, I mean, if you’re okay with that.” He feels shy.

She smiles. “Shall we get going?”

Yuta looks into her eyes. Ara blinks a couple of times until Yuta sees someone in her eyes. His breath hitches in his throat. He slowly tears his gaze away from Ara and looks up to see you. You’re singing into the microphone, pressing your headphones against your ears. He looks away from you to look back at Ara. The woman Yuta sees in Ara’s eyes is… you.

“If you walk further down the hallway in the west wing, you’ll see a room on the far end. In that room, you’ll find a grand piano. I suggest checking it out, play something inspired by your emotions. It might help you with your artist’s block.”

You push through the doors, looking left and right as you walk down the empty hallway. After consulting with Taeyong the previous night, you had concluded that you were going through artist’s block. Ever since your last song release, you haven’t been able to write lyrics. Even if you did scribble something down, they would soon be erased or crossed out. It’s quite frustrating not being able to convey your feelings like how you used to. It could be because of your dilemma with Ara and Jaehyun.

You stop in front of a room. The door is closed, but through the small window, you spot the grand piano Taeyong was talking about. As your hand wraps around the doorknob, your movements halt to a stop when your phone buzzes. Pulling out your phone, you see a new text message from Yuta. You let out a tiring sigh, ignoring his text and shoving your phone back into your pocket.

“Will I ever be free?” You ask yourself, opening the door.

You trudge towards the grand piano. You let your fingers trace the keys before taking a seat. To warm up, you start playing some classic pieces, Chopin’s Ballade No. 1, Moonlight Sonata, all the like. Your eyes flutter shut as you let the music take you to different places and imagination. Soon enough, you found yourself playing some of your songs. My Future, Shouldn’t Couldn’t Wouldn’t.

“Yeah, you, you always answer with More questions to questions that scare you We're not always peachy, look, love ain't that easy But one thing I know, I know it for sure, that it—”

“Jaehyun, you’re going in the wrong direction! The prof’s office is this way!”

Your eyes open wide. As you hear Jaehyun’s footsteps get louder and louder, you scramble to find a place to hide. You spot a door on the other side of the room and you’re running towards it. Just in time, you open the door and close it behind you. You let out a soft sigh of relief, slowly sliding down the door. There’s a window on the door, and you take a quick peek. Indeed, Jaehyun runs into the room. He looks breathless. He’s searching through the room. He spots the door that you’re hiding behind. Your eyes begin to widen again when you see him taking steps towards the door. You’re struggling to get up from the floor until—

“Jaehyun, where did you go? Office hours are closing soon. We have to get there or else we’re failing our assignment.”

You let out a yelp. Your eyes clench shut. You feel someone’s hand wrapped around your wrist. You’re breathing quickly out of nervousness. Your heart is racing. Your eyes slowly open and you’re expecting to see Jaehyun, but surprisingly enough, you see—

“When were you planning on telling me that you’re Planet Girl?”

author’s note. thank you so much for reading! sorry for taking so long in posting the second part. but here she is! skjdhfskjhdf

tag list (there are some that don’t work -- if you did not get the notification that you were tagged, it’s most likely because the tags are broken. let me know if that’s the case!): @billiondollarworth @cafemochi @stae-yong @chanyeolscoon @ggaayyyong @soothingjae @taestannie @plump-peach @oshmendes @lanadreamie @justineasian @jjpmoans @beryllium-io @jaeismytamtation @noonapabo127 @hanniesbubble @catthecandy @leesalts @jenojaeminrenjun @haechansthighsuwu @bands-messed-me-up @timelessyoonoh @jaehyunoos @hadesgirl1015 @ncttboo @looverzs @jae-canikeepyou @smileyyuta @waves-and-woods

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philip-ks-dick · 4 years ago

Text

Philip K. Dick, For Dummies.

I’ve been researching PK.D for a few years now, as he’s my father’s favourite author and I’ve been watching movie and show adaptations of his work for the longest time. I have personally only read the books listed, here’s the order (I think) you should read them in, based on difficulty level and the knowledge you need of the PKD canon to understand the books that follow. This is purely my opinion based on knowledge of the author. by philip-k’s-dick (lol)

Beginner. (These books and stories allow readers to explore Dick’s pet themes and stylistic quirks without falling too far down the rabbit hole)

The Short Stories: Over the course of his life, PKD wrote somewhere in the range of 150 short stories. Naturally, it would be silly of me to dump all of them on you at once, but undeniably, the shorter format allows the big ideas of Dick’s work to come through more clearly, and even the screwier stories conform to relatively coherent shape, making them an excellent jumping off point, especially for an author who wrote almost nonstop throughout his life.

My Favourites:

In The Days of Perky Pat - In this novel, survivors of a global thermonuclear war live in isolated enclaves in California, surviving off what they can scrounge from the wastes and supplies delivered from Mars. The older generation spend their leisure time playing with the eponymous doll in an escapist role-playing game that recalls life before the apocalypse — a way of life that is being quickly forgotten. At the story's climax, a couple from one isolated outpost of humanity plays a game against the dwellers of another outpost (who play the game with a doll similar to Perky Pat dubbed "Connie Companion") in deadly earnest. The survivors' shared enthusiasm for the Perky Pat doll and the creation of her accessories from vital supplies is a sort of mass delusion that prevents meaningful re-building of the shattered society. In stark contrast, the children of the survivors show absolutely no interest in the delusion and have begun adapting to their new life.

(Elements of the story were later incorporated into Dick's novel The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, written in 1964 and published in 1965, in which a Perky Pat simulation game is induced by drugs and miniature models instead. Palmer Eldritch is not a continuation or sequel however.)

What the Dead Men Say - Death is followed by a period of 'half-life', a short amount of time which can be rationed out over long periods in which the dead can be revived—so that, potentially, they can 'live' on for a long time. When attempts to bring back important businessman Louis Sarapis fail, it's clearly more than mere negligence. Sure enough, Sarapis starts speaking from beyond the grave. From outer space, in fact. Yet no-one seems terribly bothered, other than those directly concerned in the plot mechanics. Eventually entire communications networks (phones, TV, radio) are blocked by Sarapis' broadcasts

(Philip's later novel Ubik is a continuation of What the Dead Men Say)

Autofac - Three men wait outside their settlement for an automated delivery truck. Five years earlier, during the Total Global Conflict, a network of hardened automatic factories ("autofacs") had been set up with cybernetic controls that determine what food and consumer goods to manufacture and deliver. Human input had been lost, and the men planned disruption to try to establish communication and take over control. They destroy the delivery, but the truck radios the autofac and unloads an identical replacement, then prevents them from reloading items. They act out being disgusted with the milk delivery and are given a complaints checklist. In a blank space, they write improvised semantic garble—"the product is thoroughly pizzled". The autofac sends a humanoid data collector that communicates on an oral basis, but is not capable of conceptual thought, and they are unable to persuade the network to shut down before it consumes all resources. Their next strategy sets neighbouring autofacs in competition with each other for rare resources and seemingly succeeds, but there is a hidden level

Beyond Lies The Wub - Peterson, a crew member of a spaceship loading up with food animals on Mars, buys an enormous pig-like creature known as a "wub" from a native just before departure. Franco, his captain, is worried about the extra weight but seems more concerned about its taste, as his ship is short of food. However, after takeoff, the crew realizes that the wub is a very intelligent creature, capable of telepathy and maybe even mind control.

Peterson and the wub spend time discussing mythological figures and the travels of Odysseus. Captain Franco, paranoid after an earlier confrontation with the Wub which left him temporarily paralyzed, bursts in and insists on killing and eating the wub. The crew becomes very much opposed to killing the sensitive creature after it makes a plea for understanding, but Franco still makes a meal out of him. At the dinner table, Captain Franco apologises for the "interruption" and resumes the earlier conversation between Peterson and the Wub - which now has apparently taken over the Captain's body

Human Is - Jill Herrick and her husband Lester are in the middle of an argument. Lester deflects his wife’s claim that he is “hideous” with cold indifference. He tells her that he will not allow their child in the house and will have him removed to government custody because he is interfering with his research. Before the distraught Jill can pass this onto their son Gus, Lester gets news that he will be taking a trip to Rexor IV. Despite Jill’s desire to go there and see the planet, Lester insists that he will go alone.

Later Jill tells her brother Frank and she is going to leave Lester. She explains how happy she has been with Lester gone and how he seems to be getting worse every year of their marriage. More cold and more “ruthless,” not to mention the incessant working.

Lester comes home a very different man. He praises Jill’s cooking and expresses disgust with his work on Rexor IV studying toxins. He says he prefers Terra and being home with his wife.

Jill reports these changes to Frank, while Lester is playing in the room with Gus. Frank has Lester brought to a lab for more studies under the guidance of the Federal Clearance agency. Before long they realize that Lester has had his body taken over by a Rexorian.

The Hanging Stranger - The protagonist, Ed Loyce, is a store owner who is disturbed when he sees a stranger hanging from a lamppost, but finds that other people consider the apparent lynching unremarkable.

He finds evidence that alien insects have taken over, manages to get out of town, talks to the police commissioner, who believes him, and after getting all the information about what Ed knows, explains that the body was hung to see if anyone reacted to it, anyone they didn't have control over. He then takes Ed outside and hangs him from a lamppost.

The Commuter - Ed Jacobson is a railway worker at Woking station. His life takes a turn for the worse when his son, Sam, begins experiencing psychotic episodes. When he is selling rail tickets at work, a young woman named Linda asks for a ticket to a destination called Macon Heights that is not listed on any map.

The Minority Report - In a future society, three mutants foresee all crime before it occurs. Plugged into a great machine, these "precogs" allow a division of the police called Precrime to arrest suspects before they can commit any actual crimes. When the head of Precrime, John Anderton, is himself predicted to murder a man whom he has never met, Anderton is convinced a great conspiracy is afoot

Full Books:

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? - Rick Deckard, a bounty hunter for the San Francisco Police Department, is assigned to "retire" (kill) six androids of the new and highly intelligent Nexus-6 model which have recently escaped from Mars and traveled to Earth. These androids are made of organic matter so similar to a human's that only a posthumous "bone marrow analysis" can independently prove the difference, making them almost impossible to distinguish from real people. Deckard hopes this mission will earn him enough bounty money to buy a live animal to replace his lone electric sheep to comfort his depressed wife Iran. Deckard visits the Rosen Association's headquarters in Seattle to confirm the accuracy of the latest empathy test meant to identify incognito androids. Deckard suspects the test may not be capable of distinguishing the latest Nexus-6 models from genuine human beings, and it appears to give a false positive on his host in Seattle, Rachael Rosen, meaning the police have potentially been executing human beings. The Rosen Association attempts to blackmail Deckard to get him to drop the case, but Deckard retests Rachael and determines that Rachael is, indeed, an android, which she ultimately admits.

Clans of the Alphane Moon - War between Earth and insectoid-dominated Alpha III ended over a decade ago. (According to the novel, "Alphane" refers to the nearest star to our own system, Alpha Centauri). Some years after the end of hostilities, Earth intends to secure its now independent colony in the Alphane system, Alpha III M2. As a former satellite-based global psychiatric institution for colonists on other Alphane system worlds unable to cope with the stresses of colonisation, the inhabitants of Alpha III M2 have lived peacefully for years. But, under the pretence of a medical mission, Earth intends to take their colony back.

Against this background, Chuck Rittersdorf and his wife Mary are separating. Although they think they are going their separate ways, they soon find themselves together again on Alpha III M2. Mary travels there through government work, Chuck sees it as a chance to kill Mary using his remote control simulacrum. Along the way he is guided by his Ganymedean slime mould neighbour Lord Running Clam and Mary finds herself manipulated by the Alphane sympathiser, comedian Bunny Hentman.

The Man in the High Castle - In 1962, 15 years after Imperial Japan and Nazi Germany have won World War II, Robert "Bob" Childan owns an Americana antique shop in San Francisco, California (located in the Japanese-occupied Pacific States of America), which is most commonly frequented by the Japanese, who make a fetish of romanticized American cultural artifacts. Childan is contacted by Nobusuke Tagomi, a high-ranking Japanese trade official, who is seeking a gift to impress a visiting Swedish industrialist named Baynes. Childan's store is stocked in part with counterfeit antiques from the Wyndam-Matson Corporation, a metalworking company. Frank Frink (formerly Fink), a secretly Jewish-American veteran of World War II, has just been fired from the Wyndam-Matson factory, when he agrees to join a former co-worker to begin a handcrafted jewellery business. Meanwhile, Frink's ex-wife, Juliana, works as a judo instructor in Canon City, Colorado (in the neutral buffer zone of Mountain States), where she begins a sexual relationship with an Italian truck driver and ex-soldier, Joe Cinnadella. Throughout the book, many of these characters frequently make important decisions using prophetic messages they interpret from the I Ching, a Chinese cultural import. Many characters are also reading a widely banned yet extremely popular new novel, The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, which depicts an alternate history in which the Allies won World War II in 1945, a concept that amazes and intrigues its readers.

Frink reveals that the Wyndam-Matson Corporation has been supplying Childan with counterfeit antiques, which works to blackmail Wyndam-Matson for money to finance Frink's new jewelry venture. Tagomi and Baynes meet, but Baynes repeatedly delays any real business as they await an expected third party from Japan. Suddenly, the public receives news of the death of the Chancellor of Germany, Martin Bormann, after a short illness. Childan tentatively, on consignment, takes some of Frink's "authentic" new metalwork and attempts to curry favour with a Japanese client, who surprisingly considers Frink's jewelry immensely spiritually alive. Juliana and Joe take a road trip to Denver, Colorado and Joe impulsively decides they should go on a side-trip to meet the mysterious Hawthorne Abendsen, author of The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, who supposedly lives in a guarded fortress-like estate called the "High Castle" in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Soon, Joseph Goebbels is announced as the new German Chancellor.

Intermediate. (These are the books to pick up once you have the basics of what makes a PKD novel down. They’re obtuse enough to hit a little heavier, but don’t provide the full dose of surrealism Dick was capable of serving up. This is also good spot to jump in if you’ve experienced weird fiction before.)

Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said - The novel is set in a dystopian version of 1988, following a Second Civil War which led to the collapse of the United States' democratic institutions. The National Guard ("nats") and US police force ("pols") reestablished social order through instituting a dictatorship, with a "Director" at the apex, and police marshals and generals as operational commanders in the field. Resistance to the regime is largely confined to university campuses, where radicalized former university students eke out a desperate existence in subterranean kibbutzim. Recreational drug use is widespread, and the age of consent has been lowered to twelve. The black population has almost been rendered extinct. Most commuting is undertaken by personal aircraft, allowing great distances to be covered in little time.

The novel begins with the protagonist, Jason Taverner, a singer, hosting his weekly TV show which has an audience of 30 million viewers. His special guest is his girlfriend Heather Hart, also a singer. Both Hart and Taverner are "Sixes", members of an elite class of genetically engineered humans. While leaving the studio, Taverner is telephoned by a former lover, who asks him to pay her a visit. When Taverner arrives at her apartment, the former lover attacks him by throwing a parasitic life-form at him. Although he manages to remove most of the life-form, parts of it are left inside him. After being rescued by Hart, he is taken to a medical facility.

Waking up the following day in a seedy hotel with no identification, Taverner becomes worried, as failure to produce identification at one of the numerous police checkpoints would lead to imprisonment in a forced labor camp. Through a succession of phone calls made from the hotel to colleagues and friends who now claim not to know him, Taverner establishes that he is no longer recognized by the outside world. He soon manages to bribe the hotel's clerk into taking him to Kathy Nelson, a forger of government documents. However, Kathy reveals that both she and the clerk are police informants, and that the lobby clerk has placed a microscopic tracking device on him. She promises not to turn Taverner over to the police on the condition that he spend the night with her. Although he attempts to escape, Kathy confronts him again after he has successfully passed a police checkpoint using the forged identity cards. Feeling in her debt, he accompanies Kathy to her apartment block, where Inspector McNulty, Kathy's police handler, is waiting. McNulty has located Taverner via the tracking device the hotel lobby clerk placed on him, and instructs Taverner to come with him to the 469th Precinct police station so that further biometric identity checks can be performed.

Time out of Joint - Ragle Gumm lives in the year 1959 in a quiet American suburb. His unusual profession consists of repeatedly winning the cash prize in a local newspaper contest called "Where Will The Little Green Man Be Next?". Gumm's 1959 has some differences from ours: the Tucker car is in production, AM/FM radios are scarce to non-existent, and Marilyn Monroe is a complete unknown. As the novel opens, strange things begin to happen to Gumm. A soft-drink stand disappears, replaced by a small slip of paper with the words "SOFT-DRINK STAND" printed on it in block letters. Intriguing little pieces of the real 1959 turn up: a magazine article on Marilyn Monroe, a telephone book with non-operational exchanges listed and radios hidden away in someone else's house. People with no apparent connection to Gumm, including military pilots using aircraft transceivers, refer to him by name. Few other characters notice these or experience similar anomalies; the sole exception is Gumm's supposed brother-in-law, Victor "Vic" Nielson, in whom he confides. A neighborhood woman, Mrs. Keitelbein, invites him to a civil defense class where he sees a model of a futuristic underground military factory. He has the unshakeable feeling he's been inside that building many times before.

Confusion gradually mounts for Gumm. His neighbor Bill Black knows far more about these events than he admits, and, observing this, begins worrying: "Suppose Ragle [Gumm] is becoming sane again?" In fact, Gumm does become sane, and the deception surrounding him (erected to protect and exploit him) begins to unravel

Ubik - By the year 1992, humanity has colonized the Moon and psychic powers are common. The protagonist, Joe Chip, is a debt-ridden technician working for Runciter Associates, a "prudence organization" employing "inertials"—people with the ability to negate the powers of telepaths and "precogs"—to enforce the privacy of clients. The company is run by Glen Runciter, assisted by his deceased wife Ella who is kept in a state of "half-life", a form of cryonic suspension that allows the deceased limited consciousness and ability to communicate. While consulting with Ella, Runciter discovers that her consciousness is being invaded by another half-lifer named Jory Miller

Difficult. (This section comes with a caveat: within these novels you will encounter numerous hallucinations, drug trips, an entire trilogy about gnostic spirituality and mental illness, and more than a little unabashed nightmare fuel. It’s normal to get tangled up in what goes on in these books. It’s also normal to be weirded out. But with proper grounding, you’ll make it though with your faculties intact. Probably.)

The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch - The story begins in a future world where global temperatures have risen so high that in most of the world it is unsafe to be outside without special cooling gear during daylight hours. In a desperate bid to preserve humanity and ease population burdens on Earth, the UN has initiated a "draft" for colonizing the nearby planets, where conditions are so horrific and primitive that the unwilling colonists have fallen prey to a form of escapism involving the use of an illegal drug (Can-D) in concert with "layouts." Layouts are physical props intended to simulate a sort of alternative reality where life is easier than either the grim existence of the colonists in their marginal off-world colonies, or even Earth, where global warming has progressed to the point that Antarctica is prime vacation resort territory. The illegal drug Can-D allows people to "share" their experience of the "Perky Pat" (the name of the main female character in the simulated world) layouts. This "sharing" has caused a pseudo-religious cult or series of cults to grow up around the layouts and the use of the drug.

Up to the point where the novel begins, New York City-based Perky Pat (or P.P.) Layouts, Inc., has held a monopoly on this product, as well as on the illegal trade in the drug Can-D which makes the shared hallucinations possible.

The novel opens shortly after Barney Mayerson, P.P. Layouts' top precog, has received a "draft notice" from the UN for involuntary resettlement as a colonist on Mars. Mayerson is sleeping with his assistant, Roni Fugate, but remains conflicted about the divorce, which he himself initiated, from his first wife Emily, a ceramic pot artist. Meanwhile, Emily's second husband tries to sell her pot designs to P.P. Layouts as possible accessories for the Perky Pat virtual worlds—but Barney, recognizing them as Emily's, rejects them out of spite.

A Scanner Darkly - When performing his work as an undercover agent, Arctor goes by the name "Fred" and wears a "scramble suit" that conceals his identity from other officers. Then he is able to sit in a police facility and observe his housemates through "holo-scanners", audio-visual surveillance devices that are placed throughout the house. Arctor's use of the drug causes the two hemispheres of his brain to function independently or "compete". When Arctor sees himself in the videos saved by the scanners, he does not realize that it is him. Through a series of drug and psychological tests, Arctor's superiors at work discover that his addiction has made him incapable of performing his job as a narcotics agent. They do not know his identity because he wears the scramble suit, but when his police supervisor suggests to him that he might be Bob Arctor, he is confused and thinks it cannot be possible.

Donna takes Arctor to "New-Path", a rehabilitation clinic, just as Arctor begins to experience the symptoms of Substance D withdrawal. It is revealed that Donna has been a narcotics agent all along, working as part of a police operation to infiltrate New-Path and determine its funding source. Without his knowledge, Arctor has been selected to penetrate the organization. As part of the rehab program, Arctor is renamed "Bruce" and forced to participate in cruel group-dynamic games, intended to break the will of the patients

(If this one seems difficult to wrap your mind around, that's because its a fictionalized account of real events, and you may need to read about Philip's life at the time to understand the autobiographical nature of the book.)

The VALIS Trilogy

(Fictionalized account of religious experiences in PKD’s life.)

VALIS - In March, 1974, Horselover Fat (the alter-personality of Philip K. Dick) experiences visions of a pink beam of light that he calls Zebra and interprets as a theophany exposing hidden facts about the reality of our universe, and a group of others join him in researching these matters. One of their theories is that there is some kind of alien space probe in orbit around Earth, and that it is aiding them in their quest; it also aided the United States in disclosing the Watergate scandal and the resignation of Richard Nixon in August, 1974. Kevin turns his friends onto a film called Valis that contains obvious references to revelations identical to those that Horselover Fat has experienced, including what appears to be time dysfunction. The film is itself a fictional account of an alternative-universe version of Nixon ("Ferris F. Fremount") and his fall, engineered by a satellite called valis. (The plot of the fictitious film Valis was that of Dick's then-unpublished novel Radio Free Albemuth.) In seeking the film's makers, Kevin, Phil, Fat, and David—now calling themselves the Rhipidon Society—head to an estate owned by popular musician Eric Lampton and his wife Linda. They decide the goal that they have been led toward is Sophia Lampton, who is two-years old and the Messiah or incarnation of Holy Wisdom (Pistis Sophia) anticipated by some variants of Gnostic Christianity. In addition to healing Phil's schizophrenic personality split, she tells them that their conclusions about valis (which Fat had previously termed "Zebra") and reality are correct, and more importantly, that we should worship, not gods, but humanity. She dies two days later due to a laser accident caused by Brent Mini. Undeterred, Fat (who has now resurged) goes on a global search for the next incarnation of Sophia.

Dick also offers a rationalist explanation of his apparent theophany, acknowledging that it might have been visual and auditory hallucinations from either schizophrenia or drug addiction sequelae.

Characters:

Phil (Philip K. Dick): Narrator (first person), science fiction writer, author of Man in the High Castle, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, and Three Stigmata.

Horselover Fat: Narrator (third person), a schizophrenic modality of Phil himself. (Philip in Greek means "fond of horses"; dick is German for "fat".)

Gloria Knudson: Suicidal friend of Fat's who Fat is unable to save.

Kevin: Cynical friend of Fat's whose cat died running across the street, based on K. W. Jeter.

Sherri Solvig: Church-going friend of Fat's, eventually dies from lymphatic cancer.

David: Catholic friend of Fat's, based on Tim Powers.

Eric Lampton: Rock star, screenwriter, actor, a. k. a. "Mother Goose"; a fictionalised version of David Bowie.

Linda Lampton: Actress, wife of Eric Lampton.

Brent Mini: Electronic composer, a fictionalised version of Brian Eno.

Sophia Lampton: Two-year-old child (personalised incarnation of Holy Wisdom within some variants of Gnosticism), said to be the daughter of Linda Lampton and valis and the "Fifth Savior".

The Divine Invasion - After a fatal car accident on Earth, Herb Asher is placed into cryonic suspension as he waits for a spleen replacement. Clinically dead, Herb experiences lucid dreams while in suspended animation and relives the last six years of his life.

In the past, Herb lived as a recluse in an isolated dome on a remote planet in the binary star system, CY30-CY30B. Yah, a local divinity of the planet in exile from Earth, appears to Herb in a vision as a burning flame, and forces him to contact his sick female neighbor, Rybys Rommey, who happens to be terminally ill with multiple sclerosis and pregnant with Yah's child.

With the help of the immortal soul of Elijah, who takes the form of a wild beggar named Elias Tate, Herb agrees to become Rybys's legal husband and father of the unborn "savior". Together they plan to smuggle the six-month pregnant Rybys back to Earth, under the pretext of seeking help for Rybys' medical condition at a medical research facility. After being born in human form, Yah plans to confront the fallen angel Belial, who has ruled the Earth for 2000 years since the fall of Masada in the first century CE. Yah's powers, however, are limited by Belial's dominion on Earth, and the four of them must take extra precautions to avoid being detected by the forces of darkness.

Things do not go as planned. "Big Noodle", Earth's A.I. system, warns the ecclesiastical authorities in the Christian-Islamic church and Scientific Legate about the divine "invasion" and countermeasures are prepared. A number of failed attempts are made to destroy the unborn child, all of them thwarted by Elijah and Yah. After successfully making the interstellar journey back to Earth and narrowly avoiding a forced abortion, Rybys and Herb escape in the nick of time, only to be involved in a fatal taxi crash, probably due to the machinations of Belial. Rybys dies from her injuries sustained in the crash, and her unborn son Emmanuel (Yah in human form) suffers brain damage from the trauma but survives. Herb is critically injured and put into cryonic suspension until a spleen replacement can be found. Baby Emmanuel is placed into a synthetic womb, but Elias Tate manages to sneak Emmanuel out of the hospital before the church is able to kill him.

Six years pass. In a school for special children, Emmanuel meets Zina, a girl who also seems to have similar skills and talents, but acts as a surrogate teacher to Emmanuel. For four years, Zina helps Emmanuel regain his memory (the brain damage caused amnesia) and discover his true identity as Yah, creator of the universe.

When he's ready, Zina shows Emmanuel her own parallel universe. In this peaceful world, organized religion has little influence, Rybys Rommey is still alive and married to Herb Asher, and Belial is only a goat kid living in a petting zoo.

In an act of kindness, Zina and Emmanuel liberate the goat-creature from his cage, momentarily forgetting that the animal is Belial. The goat-creature finds Herb Asher and attempts to retain control of the world by possessing him and convincing him that Yahweh's creation is an ugly thing that should be shown for what it really is. Eventually Herb is saved by Linda Fox, a young singer whom he loves and who is his own personal Savior; she and the goat-creature meet and she kills it, defeating Belial. He finally discovers that this meeting happens over again for everyone in the world, and whether they choose Belial or their Savior decides if they find salvation.

Characters:

Herb Asher: audio engineer

Rybys Rommey: mother of Emmanuel, sick with MS

Yah: Yahweh

Elias Tate: Incarnation of Elijah

Emmanuel (Manny): Yah incarnated in human form

Zina Pallas: Shekhinah

Linda Fox: singer, songwriter, Yetzer Hatov

Belial: Yetzer Hara

Fulton Statler Harms: Chief prelate of the Christian-Islamic Church (C.I.C), Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church

Nicholas Bulkowsky: Communist Party Chairman, Procurator maximus of the Scientific Legate

VALIS: agent of Yahweh, disinhibiting stimulus

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer - Set in the late 1960s and 1970s, the story describes the efforts of Episcopal Bishop Timothy Archer, who must cope with the theological and philosophical implications of the newly discovered Gnostic Zadokite scroll fragments. The character of Bishop Archer is loosely based on the controversial, iconoclastic Episcopal Bishop James Pike, who in 1969 died of exposure while exploring the Judean Desert near the Dead Sea in the West Bank.

As the novel opens, it is 1980. On the day that John Lennon is shot and killed, Angel Archer visits the houseboat of Edgar Barefoot, (a guru based on Alan Watts), and reflects on the lives of her deceased relatives. During the sixties, she was married to Jeff Archer, son of the Episcopal Bishop of California Timothy Archer. She introduced Kirsten Lundborg, a friend, to her father-in law, and the two began an affair. Kirsten has a son, Bill, from a previous relationship, who has schizophrenia, although he is knowledgeable as an automobile mechanic. Tim is already being investigated for his allegedly heretical views about the Holy Ghost.

Jeff commits suicide due to his romantic obsession with Kirsten. However, after poltergeist activity, he manifests to Tim and Kirsten at a seance, also attended by Angel. Angel is skeptical about the efficacy of astrology, and believes that the unfolding existential situation of Tim and Kirsten is akin to Friedrich Schiller's German Romanticism era masterpiece, the Wallenstein trilogy (insofar as their credulity reflects the loss of rational belief in contemporary consensual reality).

The three are told that Kirsten and Tim will die. As predicted, Kirsten loses her remission from cancer, and also commits suicide after a barbiturate overdose. Tim travels to Israel to investigate whether or not a psychotropic mushroom was associated with the resurrection, but his car stalls, he becomes disoriented, falls from a cliff, and dies in the desert.

On the houseboat, Angel is reunited with Bill, Kirsten's son who has schizophrenia. He claims to have Tim's reincarnated spirit within him, but is soon institutionalized. Angel agrees to care for Bill, in return for a rare record (Koto Music by Kimio Eto) that Edgar offers her.

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer is one of Dick's most overtly philosophical and intellectual works. While Dick's novels usually employ multiple narrators or an omniscient perspective, this story is told in the first person by a single narrator: Angel Archer, Bishop Archer's daughter-in-law.

Characters:

Angel Archer: Narrator, manager of a Berkeley record store, widow of Jeff Archer.

Timothy Archer: Bishop of California; father of the late Jeff Archer and father-in-law of Angel. Dies in Israel, searching for psychotropic mushroom connected with Zadokite sect. Based on James Albert Pike, Dick's personal friend, who was an American Episcopalian bishop.

Kirsten Lundborg: Timothy Archer's secretary and lover. Dies from barbiturate overdose after loss of remission from cancer.

Bill Lundborg: Kirsten's son who has schizophrenia, and who is obsessed with cars.

Edgar Barefoot: Houseboat guru, radio personality, lecturer. Based on Alan Watts.

Jeff Archer: Son of Timothy Archer, and deceased husband of Angel. A professional student who was romantically obsessed with Kirsten.

Thank you, if you read all of this. it took me six hours today to write this all

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airi-p4 · 3 years ago

Text

Ice Dreams - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | ...

Lukanette Figure Skating AU? Lukanette Figure Skating AU.

I’ve been planning this for more than one year already ( @mamanabeille knows ) but Freya’s recent art for me fueled me to finish the first 2 chapters (out of more than 60...)

Header art is traditional art drawn by me about one year ago - Full pic HERE.

Summary

Despite being very talented and loving to skate, Marinette is determined to quit Figure Skating after the lack of decent results and the great amount of stress and pressure on her shoulders.

On the other hand, Juleka and Luka are average skaters in pairs category who, after years of hard work, have finally started showing some good results. But suddenly, Juleka is forced to retire, leaving Luka at the verge of retirement because of his need for a partner.

Can Juleka convince Luka and Marinette to give figure skating a second chance? Can they form a bond strong enough to reach the top and accomplish their dreams? Could something more than partnership spark between them?

AO3

________________________________

CHAPTER 1: Marinette

Figure skating can appeal to people for many reasons: the competitive part, the artistry, the music arrangements, the performances…

For Marinette figure skating was everything- her whole life.

When she was happy, she would love to skate. When she was sad, skating never failed to cheer her up. She was athletic, flexible and talented, gifted by both technique and artistry, as well as tenacity to work hard and never give up. Skating was an irreplaceable part of her life.

WAS.

In past tense.

Because even when it’s pleasant to watch the beautiful programs the skaters have to offer, there’s something that never changes during competitions: the scores are what really matter. Fail one element and you're screwed. Keep the program perfect but with minimum difficulty, you're off the podium. Do perfect in practice but fail in front of the judges: it's over.

This was Marinette's case.

Recently, consistency always failed her in competitions, and it had been a letdown to see how the past seasons had been going blank for her, without any outstanding accomplishment, despite her being on top almost all of her childhood. Her effort, and full potential didn’t show off on her competition results.

Marinette's parents and her coach, Miss Bustier, associated her disappointing results to her mentor’s and grandmother’s passing. But Marinette was well aware that the main reason behind her failures wasn't only how much she missed her granny; the real cause had a girl’s name: Lila Rossi.

It had already been 2 years since Lila joined her training classes under Miss Bustier's teachings. And everything had gone downhill after that.

It's not that she hadn't already been enduring bullying from Chloe Bourgeois, but Lila's bullying was at a whole different level.

The pressure, the expectations, the stress, the bullying, the injuries and damaged property, the struggle her parents went through to pay for her classes and competitions, how she had to sew her own dresses because she didn’t have the money to buy them, how she almost had no friends left... Everything piled up for years and made her finally crumble. Her skating consistency was affected and led only to constant failure.

In the end, she was exhausted, and no matter how much she loved ice skating, she reached her limit. She surpassed her limit.

Lila Rossi had won.

For two weeks now, since her last failure at a National Competition, Marinette had been skipping her skating classes. Coach Bustier was always exceptionally kind to her, and had been considerate (in her own way) this time as well, suggesting she take a few days to rest and get back again when she felt confident again.

But Marinette didn't intend to return under her coaching. Instead, she had set her mind to resign from her classes and, probably, even quit figure skating too.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

The most talented skater of the decade was seriously considering quitting skating for good. And it made her sad, but she couldn’t see any other way out of the spiral of failures she was caught in. No one was there to get her out of the dark hole she was buried in.

She certainly didn’t expect a second chance in figure skating.

_________________________________

During the days she didn't go to her classes, Marinette always spent her time at the Miraculous Ice Skate Rink, where her 'grandfather', Master Wang Fu worked as a manager, taking care of the installation and the opening and shutting down hours, along with the material to rent and the tickets for open to public times. Being her mother’s uncle, she had been babysat by him and his wife since she was a little kid. It was, in fact, Marianne Lenoir, was the one who taught Marinette the skating basics and the one who made her start practicing and love figure skating since she was 3 years old.

Marinette loved her grandparents a lot, and the passing of Miss Lenoir still pained her everyday. After her tragic loss, they became even closer, especially when Master Fu gave Marinette his late wife's earrings as a memento - he knew she would have given them to her at some point, since she loved the dark-haired girl a lot. And with no children on their own, Marinette was the closest they had to a daughter or granddaughter. Marinette had promised to treasure the earrings. They had a ladybug’s design engraved on them, only visible when light illuminated themfrom a certain angle. They were very mysterious and unique, and Marinette had loved them since her eyes had fallen on them. After becoming their owner, not even once she took them off. She felt the luck on her side as long as she wore them.

Except, that wasn’t the case anymore.

Marinette had her own theory of how Lila might have corrupted them when she touched them once, since all her luck was now gone from her side from that moment onwards.

On the ice, Marinette skated a little. But when she attempted to jump, a memory of her last competition crossed her mind and she fell down. Instead of standing up like always, she stayed seated on the floor, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Marinette! Are you ok? Did you get hurt?" asked Fu, worried. Rushing (as much as his old legs allowed him to) to aid her.

"Master-! I- I-... I can't skate anymore!" She broke down to cry even harder.

"That's not true, Marinette. You're just feeling discouraged now because of your recent results in competition. It's normal to feel like that. It will be ok"

"No Master… It's not just competitions… It's everything… Lila, Chloe, my coach, my parents, my friends…and I miss Granny Marianne so much... I'll never be able to follow her steps now… I should just be realistic and give up..."

"Don't say that, dear. You have luck on your side. Like a ladybug. Lady Chance. You are talented enough to overcome this. I’m sure Marianne would be proud of you, even if you don't follow her steps. And you know? There's no need to compete if you don't feel like doing it. Many people just skate for fun or minor competitions. I’m sure the future has good things prepared for you. You just need to keep moving and you’ll find the right path to follow. And whatever you choose to do, we'll be proud of you. The doors to this ice rink are open for you to come whenever you want to"

That's right. She could skate without competitions. She could focus on something else and have skating as a hobby. Maybe she could make a living out of a figure skating outfit designer…

It was settled. She was quitting. And she was telling her parents tonight.

"Thank you, Master. I know what I want to do now" she answered, giving him a heartfelt hug. Fu smiled at her and patted her back a little, happy to see her smile was back on her face and how his granddaughter's tears had finally stopped.

___________________________

Marinette was very nervous when she arrived home. She tried to sneak to her room without being noticed, but her mother had been waiting for her, with a deeply worried expression on her face. Marinette gulped. 'She has probably found out I've been skipping my classes' she thought, but her mother's mind was focused on something else- more serious. Something the girl didn’t expect or could have imagined.

“Marinette. Calm down and listen to me. Are you still friends with Juleka?”

Marinette blinked: that was not the question she expected. She sighed before answering, confused about her mother’s unusual distress.

“Yes, mom. It’s been a long while since we’ve last seen or talked to each other, but she is my friend”. She paused for a second. “Why do you ask? You’re scaring me...”

Sabine Cheng took a deep breath before answering “Marinette… Juleka is at the hospital”.

Marinette’s mother’s grip on her shoulders wasn’t strong enough to keep the girl from jumping in shock, neither stopped her from panicking a second later.

“What!? What happened to her!? Is she ok!?”

“Calm down, Marinette. She’s ok. She just fainted. She…” Sabine paused, hesitating, before continuing with the explanation. “She’s been diagnosed with an eating disorder”

Marinette felt a rush of mixed feelings forming inside of her: but between sadness and worrisome, anger was the first emotion to come out of her body.

“No…! No way! I’m sure it’s all Chloé’s fault! She used to make mean comments about her body since we were little. Her ideas must have grown bigger in Juleka’s mind! Just because she was taller and larger than many of us…! And now Juleka is…! Juleka is…!”

The spiral of emotions she was feeling ended up falling in the form of tears, again, in a crying whimper. Sabine, worried for her daughter, cupped her cheek and let her cry until she calmed down a little. It was not easy for her to wait patiently to ask her what she had really wanted to know after she had heard about Juleka’s condition, but she knew the girl needed to let it out, even if it hurt her to see her daughter crying like that. It almost felt like there was something more behind the salty water spilling from her eyes, but she remained silent until her sobbing sounds ended, being engulfed by the silence of the living room. When the wait finally was over, Sabine Cheng spoke again, looking straight to her eyes.

“Marinette, I need to ask you something. And please, be honest with me" Marinette gulped and nervously nodded. "Are you eating properly? You’re not throwing it out, aren’t you? I know you’ve always been thin, but I can’t help it but worry about you… You know how common eating disorders are in figure skating… And with what happened to Juleka and how discouraged you look recently…”

Marinette tensed at her mother’s question, more offended than shocked. “Of course not, maman! I’m properly eating what you put on my plate! I would never waste what it takes you so much work. I’m grateful I always have freshly baked bread on my plate”

Marinette’s mother relaxed at her daughter's answer, hugging her.

“Good. That’s good. I’m so glad. So relieved. Thank you, Marinette”. She spoke again after breaking the hug. “I think you should pay Juleka a visit. Here’s the room number and the hospital address. You should be there for her”

“Thank you for telling me, maman. I’ll visit her tomorrow morning”, the girl said, grabbing the paper with Juleka’s hospital contact from her mother’s hand.

“Good girl. I’m proud of you”

“Thank you, maman…” the twin-tailed girl managed to answer, feeling both happy and nauseous for the trust in her mother’s eyes. The thought of seeing disappointment on her parents' face terrified her.

‘No… I definitely can’t tell my parents yet…’ she thought.

_______________________

When Marinette arrived at Juleka's hospital room, she wasn't alone. The door was partially opened and she saw a blue-haired boy standing beside her. As soon as she knocked on the door, the boy noticed her and approached, with an interrogative and sad expression on his face. He was handsome despite his sad expression, Marinette thought, distracted for a second.

"I- I'm- Juleka...?" She managed to say, and the boy just nodded.

“Juleka, you have a visitor. I’ll let you two talk privately" he said, turning his head to the girl in the bed. "Thank you for coming,” he solemnly told Marinette before leaving the room.

“Thank you” she said when getting inside, without looking at him.

It had been a while since Marinette had talked to Juleka. It had been more difficult to keep in touch after she switched to pairs skating some years ago, even if they still exchanged messages and hung out together sometimes.

“Juleka, how are you? I heard you fainted and…” Her feet moved slowly towards her friend as she greeted her, but she gasped when she saw her figure: she couldn't be healthy looking the way she did.

“Marinette. Thanks for coming” Juleka weakly smiled.

“Juleka, look at you! You look so skinny! You have to eat! You shouldn’t listen to what people or magazines say, it’s dangerous! You need to be healthy.”

“I am healthy" she assured her, but Marinette's worried eyes made her admit her problem. "But… you’re right. There’s no need for me to keep throwing out my food. I’m retiring from figure skating”

"What?" Marinette gasped, and Juleka reaffirmed her words with a nod. “Oh no, Juleka! I know you loved it… I’m so sorry for you…” The baker's daughter sympathized.

“It’s Ok, Marinette. Thank you… I’m actually more worried about my brother. We were a team and now his dream is crushed because of me… He can’t compete without a partner and… I’ve wasted everything…”

“Oh, Juleka…”, she warmly hugged her friend.

Not wanting to talk more about her eating disorder, Juleka asked Marinette a question.

“What about you, Marinette? How are things going? Are you getting closer to your dream? You were always first place no matter what! I bet you’ve been improving and setting even higher scores by now. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could even land a triple axel!”

“I can land it, actually! It’s just… for some reason I can’t seem to land any of my jumps lately during competitions… I keep failing over and over… and then there’s Chloé and Lila… You know… I’m thinking of quitting…” she said in a sigh.

“Oh no, Marinette! You can’t quit! You are the most skilled and talented skater I’ve ever seen. Your scores as a child were in another league! You are bound to make history in figure skating, I know you do. You can’t quit!”

“It’s not a matter of skill anymore, Juleka… It’s a matter of results and wasted effort. I just… I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep my parents overworking to pay for my skating classes with me failing every single jump in competition. I can’t look at their disappointed looks every time I fail their expectations. And Lila’s bullying only keeps escalating while my coach never believes anything I say… I’m not motivated anymore. I don’t have the strength to keep trying...”

Marinette looked devastated as she spoke. Quitting figure skating couldn't make her happy. Juleka knew she would be feeling even worse than herself. She didn't like to see her friend like that.

“Are you sure, Marinette? Because I think it’s a waste. You could win an Olympic gold medal if you aimed for it. It’s just… so frustrating…”

“Juleka…”

After a long silence, Juleka set her determination and faced a surprised Marinette with a serious look on her eyes.

“No. Marinette, I can’t let you quit like that! Look at me. I’ve been forced to quit because of my condition. I wanted to keep skating! I didn’t want to stop! And yet… you say you want to quit. My brother says he wants to quit. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!? You have no consideration for me or for yourselves!" She yelled and then paused to take a deep breath. "Marinette, look at my face and tell me again you want to quit! Can you do it?”

“I-... I want to… " Marinette paused, unable to lie. "I want to keep skating!" She finally admitted. "But I can’t anymore, Juleka! I’ve tried to endure it, I’ve tried so hard! And yet… Nothing! It’s just useless. What’s the point when I’m starting to feel that skating is not fun anymore?”

“Oh no, Marinette, you can’t say that! You can’t give up your dream so easily. Who was that skater you admired? Your grandmother? Miss Lenoir? You dreamed of being like her someday! Graceful, elegant yet strong; sliding on the ice like if you were an angel coming from heaven, announcing salvation to all the graceful public crying tears of joy at your beautiful movements. I know you can do it, Marinette. You just need something or someone to…" Juleka paused for a moment. "Wait, I… I have an idea. Why don’t you try pairs skating for a while?”

Marinette was taken aback at her friend's suggestion.

“What? What are you talking about? I told you I want to… to quit…”

“No. Listen to me. You just need to try it out. You try, and I won’t oppose you quitting if you decide to do so after you’ve tried it out.”

“What’s the deal…?”, Marinette said, unconvinced.

“I want you to take my place. I want you and my brother to help each other recover your motivation, your goals, your dreams. We just got a decent score for international competitions and I… I messed up. He did his best and improved a lot. He could score high, to the top maybe, with the right partner… and I think you’re a better fit partner than I could ever be” she said in a weak sigh.

“But- I don’t even know your brother. And I’ve never done pair skating before! And most importantly- there’s no way I could fill in your place! Nobody can! I'm sure you’re important for your brother, and he doesn’t even know me! He won’t want me to pair with him anyway” Marinette protested.

“That’s my part. I’ll convince him to give you a chance. So I need you to give pairs skating a chance, too. You both still have a second chance in figure skating. And I bet you can reach the top in a few years'', Juleka smiled. Her eyes showed conviction in her words, but Marinette had doubts.

“Are you sure he-?” she started, but Juleka cut her, knowing how the question ended.

“I’m sure. Just give it a try. For me. For our friendship. I want you to skate on my behalf. Please... I’m begging you, Marinette. Just one week. One more chance. I’m sure you won’t regret it. No, I promise you won’t”

“Ok, Juleka… I’ll do it. Just one try. No more. I’m quitting if I can’t keep it up. Or if your brother doesn’t like me…”

“He’ll like you. He just needs to meet you.” she smiled in reassurance and Marinette hugged her.

Marinette, noticing the time, broke the hug and spoke again. "I have to go now, but I’ll come again next week. Get well soon, please”

“Thank you, Marinette. For coming and for accepting my selfish request. I’ll send you a message later.”

“Of course, you are still my dear friend, Juleka. Get well soon, ok?”

“I’ll try… Thank you for coming”, she answered, waving her goodbye. ‘Now I need to convince Luka…' she thought, eyeing her friend crossing through the door.

#my fic #fic: ice dreams #lukanette figure skating AU #airip4 #lukanette fic #endgame lukanette #my art #I can't believe I'm already posting this #it's been sooo long #Blame Freya for rushing me XD #lukanette #Pro LukaMari

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sharuruwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Extras

Timeline:

Heart Forecast & Unfortunate: Gojo (18), Shion (17)

Blessings: Gojo (27), Shion (26)

A/N: And now this story in tumblr should be up to date with the one I had in AO3. I may explore more on Naoya and Shion's interaction somewhere in the future if something just pops into my head.

As for why I wrote these three short stories, they're just sitting in my drafts and I feel it would be a waste not to publish them.

Disclaimer: I don't own JJK as it belonged to a Vol. 0 movie goer, Gege Akutami.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Heart Forecast

Every year on the 14th of February, normal shit becomes more expensive than it already is. People spend thousands of yen planning the perfect gift/date for their partners. There's no room for error or it'll be the one-way ticket to break-up.

It’s also the perfect day to annoy the fuck out of singles. Usually, it's about their never-changing relationship status or them never getting a date.

As for Gojo Satoru, he had been on a couple of dates last year. He only went with them to his boredom. At least, he got free chocolates from the girls he used to date.

But, for this year? Gojo was sure enough that he won’t be getting any. Yet, if he had to expect, most likely one of his exes. He had some who couldn't accept the outcome of their relationship. They would do it out of false hope of getting back together.

Before someone pointing fingers at him, Gojo was clear as fucking day when he broke up with them. He had Geto and Shoko to back up his claims.

Ever since meeting Shion, the idea of meeting other girls doesn’t sound appealing anymore. When he learned of the Shion’s true feelings towards his best friend, he went back to his old ways. Yet, it proved to be pointless.

Although it provided him a moment of distraction. His mind kept going back to Shion. Gojo gave up in his fifth try and chose to keep burying it whenever it resurfaced.

"Gojo-senpai!"

Speaking of the devil.

Gojo looked behind and saw his favourite first year running towards him.

"I won't be taking much of your time, Senpai," Shion began to rummage through her school bag. "I only need a minute!"

Gojo raised his brows in curiosity as he waited for her. It’s rare for his favorite first-year student to be looking for him unless something important comes up.

However, his gut told him otherwise because today's Valentines Day.

According to some of the Shoujo manga, yes he read some of them when he's bored. This occasion served as the perfect time for someone to confess their love.

Could this mean Shion will declare her love for him? If that were the case, when?! Should he said yes? But what if she got rejected by Suguru and went for him out of rebound?

“Here,” Shion gave him a bag of handmade chocolates. “I hope it's up to your standards.”

"Wait, that's it?" It earned him a confused look on Shion's face. "Aren't you going to profess your undying love to your handsome senpai?"

Gojo found himself amused when Shion's blank face exploded into a blushing mess in a split second.

"I-I mean I do like you but not in that sense! If anything, I-WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS!?"

The first-year student ran in the opposite direction from him. Yet, she missed the rare opportunity to see Gojo's red face with a lopsided grin.

Geto, who arrived at the scene from Shion's direction, dumbfounded at the sight of Shion ran past by him.

"What's with the stupid smile on your-Ah, I see." The sight of the chocolates in his friend's grasp makes him not question it further.

"Aren't I lucky?" Gojo dangled his gift in front of Geto's face. "To receive such gratitude in the form of chocolates."

"You're not special," Geto pulled out a bag of chocolates from his pocket. "I have it too."

Once Gojo processed his best friend’s words, he did the most reasonable thing. He snatched it from Geto’s grasp and made a run for it.

“GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

"I NEED THIS MORE THAN YOU, ASSHOLE!"

And that’s the story of how Gojo and Geto got themselves an hour long sermon from the principal.

-----------------------------

Unfortunate First Meeting of Naoya Zen'in

"You need to throw more weight into your swings, Nanamin." Shion said as she wiped her sweat from her forehead while holding her staff in her free hand.

"Will you stop calling me that?" Nanami got up from the ground before dusting off the dust from his tracksuit.

"I don't see anything wrong with it." Haibara stated, bringing his arms behind his head. "If anything, it'll make you more approachable to others."

"I agree," Shion nodded before giving her classmate a thumbs up. "It has a cute and simple tune to it, easy for everyone to remember."

Nanami let out an annoyed sigh before shaking his head.

"Shion Ito?"

Shion turned around, and the other two turned their attention to the direction of the voice. They saw a boy around their age with blonde hair, but the tips of his hair were black. She had a bad feeling about this.

"And you must be?" Shion cocked her head to the side.

"The future leader of the great Zen'in clan." The blonde boy introduced himself with an arrogant smirk. "Naoya Zen'in"

"I have to admit," Naoya scanned Shion from head to toe. His gaze on her as if he’s an appraiser determining the value of a prized item. Shion had to admit, the boy before her could be more annoying than a certain white-haired student.

"I didn't expect Tsukumo's student to be a girl. Despite the eyepatch, she picked someone with a pretty face at least."

"You must be here for the Goodwill event coming up." Haibara suggested, hoping to change the subject before things escalated. "Are you here to train with us?"

"With the girl included?" Naoya scoffed. "Don't make me laugh. A woman's sole purpose is to support a man from three steps behind. If they fail to do so, they deserve death."

Haibara looked upset at what he had heard from the latter. Nanami clenched his fists as if he was preventing to do something reckless. As for Shion, she still retained her aloofness, but the tightened grip on her staff said otherwise.

Without a word, Shion got close to Naoya and the boy got offended by it. Where did this girl got the audacity to approach him within his personal space?

She hadn’t earned the privilege to see him up close. It looked like he had to be the one to teach her place.

"Got a problem with it?" Naoya asked. "It's not like I said something wrong-"

Despite being the son of the fastest sorcerer, Naoya didn’t register what happened. All he felt was something hard smack across his cheek.

Nanami and Haibara watched the Zeni’n’s body fell to the side, unconscious. They looked at Shion with their jaws drop. Yet, they wore two different expressions; amazed and disbelief.

“There’s a mosquito on his cheek.”

True to her word, Shion raised her hand and there it was; a squashed mosquito on the palm of her hand.

Unbeknownst to her, that’s how Naoya started taking an interest in her on this particular day. He swore he'd do whatever it takes to make her stay by his side.

After all, becoming the next clan head of the Zen'in clan requires a wife like Shion.

-----------------------------

Blessings for you everyday

“I’m home…” Gojo announced while taking off his bandages.

The sound of his tired voice echoed throughout their shared house. Not a second passed by, He heard footsteps coming from the living room.

“Ah, Satoru.”

Immediately, Gojo felt his breath got taken away at the sight of his wife. Her usual messy hair is now tied up in a neat bun. A tint of pink dusted her pale cheeks that compliments her red lips. The dark blue dress she wore hugs her figure in the right places. He couldn’t help but stare and take in every detail as he walked towards her.

"Oh, hello beautiful stranger~" Gojo offers his hand to Shion with a charming smile on his face. "May I take you out on a date in this fine evening we have?"

Instead of an answer, Shion scanned him from head to toe. Once she's done, her head tilted to the side with a curious look.

"Did you forget what date today is?"

'Today's December 7th, what's so important about it?' Gojo thought. Should he pretend or play dumb?

“Of course, I remember!” Gojo let out a chuckle before giving his wife a smile. “I’m not like you who forgot to bring the kids home from Disneyland.”

“T-that was one time!” Shion argued.

“What about that one time where Megumi found you in a-”

“SATORU!”

A defeated sigh escaped from his wife’s lips. Shion knew she couldn’t win this one. She would let this one slide because it’s a special day.

Meanwhile, Gojo began racking his brain for important dates. If it weren’t for the missions and the pressure from the higher ups, he wouldn't be in this situation.

It couldn’t be their wedding anniversary because he remembered a crucial detail. Under the cherry blossom, he remembered how beautiful she looked in a *shiromuku as she walked next to him.

Her birthday? That’s not it. The wallpaper of his lock screen was proof of it. He took it on her 23rd birthday as they watched the sunrise of a new year.

Back then, Gojo didn't have the intention to take a candid picture of Shion. Yet, her smile, her blushing cheeks and the angle of the sunlight made him want to capture it.

If that's not it, what could it be then?

“I'm sorry, Satoru”

Those words pulled Gojo back from reality and his mind went into a bit of a panic state. Because of this, questions started to form in his head.

What is she feeling sorry for? Shouldn't he be the one apologizing to her?

Immediately, he enveloped his wife into a hug and her warmth melted away his fatigue. The intoxicating scent of her perfume wanted to take Shion all night long. However, Gojo had to bury that desire as his top priority is to make her feel better.

“It’s alright, Shion,” Gojo stopped hugging her before he took her small hand into his. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

“I appreciate it, but…” Shion scratched her cheek. “It doesn’t change the fact that the reservation I made for your birthday got canceled at the last minute."

Wait, today is his birthday? He needed some kind of confirmation about this.

Thanks to his six eyes, he managed to take a peek at Shion's planner that was lying open on the coffee table.

Dec. 7, 2016 - Idiot's birthday @ his favorite restaurant in Ginza What to do? They canceled my reservation. (;﹏;)

“It’s fine,” Gojo reassured her. “The birthday gift I want is already here.”

“What is it?” Shion asked.

“It’s right in front of me!”

At first, Shion blankly looked at her husband. In front of him? What could he mean by that? The only thing that’s before him is her…

“H-HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT WITH A STRAIGHT FACE?!”

#gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x oc #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru x reader

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deafwestnewsies · 4 years ago

Text

you tell me you love her (i give you a grin)

And I'd choose our fate a million times over.

david jacobs x jack kelly (unrequited love)

read it on my ao3!

The grass crumpled beneath his boots. His shadow left a broad dent in the shade

(his body was still a marvel- when had Jack Kelly become so strong? When did Jack Kelly grow into his wimpy shoulders and snivelling ankles? When did Jack Kelly ditch his dreams of a boy to become a man?)

that towered over a lean man who was casually basking in the weak October daylight. He frowned at the sudden loss of warmth, but his eyes danced with mirth as he gazed over his former selling partner, current best friend, and long-time confidant. “Why, Jack Kelly. I thought you stood me up.”

“I’d neva, Dave,” Jack bent down in the mellow grass next to David. “They caugh’ me onna big shipment just as I was ‘bout to leave for lunch. Tell Esther that the market’ll have a good deal on trout tomorrow.”

Their heads nearly touched at the temple, and if Jack had the nerve or the gall, he could move a miniscule inch and connect their homely skin. It would only take a second- and what is a second, honestly? A moment in time? In the everlasting universe? And Jack Kelly wasn’t a very smart man, but he knew that humans only took up a small part of the whole existence of the world and a single second of humanity could manage to be wasted on the shifting of a cold, lonely wrist to lay on the freckled arm of another-

David rolled onto his side, more interested in a patch of dandelions than the market predictions for the next day. “Besides,” scrunching his nose, as if that would clear his irreverent musings on the universe, “not all o’ us are fancy medical men with all the break time they could ask fa’. I’m the big man pullin’ the weight ‘round here.”

(And it was true, to some aspects. Jack brought home honest-to-goodness bakery bread on Fridays so they could practice Shabbat without travelling, as Mayer so liked to do. He gave Les nickels to spend at the fair and bought Sarah hair ribbons for no particular reason. There was the gas bill he had paid one particularly difficult December, and the endless hours of doing various handiwork around the house when David was studying and Mayer’s old aches came to haunt him. The Jacobs’ home was also Jack’s, not because he needed it, but because they needed him.)

(He needed it too, he supposed.)

A yellow dandelion hovered over his nose, gently twirling with the teasing hum of David leaning in so close. Jack’s teeth snapped at it.

“You can drink the milk of these, I read,” David mused.

Jack wrinkled his nose. “Dandelion salad‘s only good tha first five times. Plus, it’d turn Crutchie’s tongue yellow.”

Dropping the little flower altogether, David rolled flat on his back and turned to gently nudge Jack on his shoulder with his premature wrinkling forehead. “Jackie,” he whispered.

(“I love you,” he would go on, later in Jack’s dreams. “I’ve loved you since I met you, I love you like a wildfire, I love you so much I cannot bear it, I love you like every character in all of my books, I love you.”)

“I’ve met a girl.” There was a hint of mischief in David’s tone- and Jack didn’t recognize it. There was suddenly a gated city wrapped around David’s heart and Jack was frantically scrambling for the key; For the first time, he was locked out of David’s life. He was an onlooker upon territory he had memorized by touch, by heart, by memory.

“Yeah?” If David had been paying attention, the word would have pinged around his Tin Man heart- hollow, empty, overused. “The Walking Mouth finally has someone to use it on?”

He relished in the feel of David’s uncalloused palms shoving playfully at his tanned, muscled arm. “Don’t be crass,” the boy chided. “Her name is April.”

(Jack was born on a misty-eyed April morning, with the clouds swabbed over the sun and an ominous wind blowing throughout the emptied streets. His mother had called it a bad omen. His father couldn’t fathom why.)

The crook of Jack’s elbow was full of David’s lingering fingertips; A question he didn’t dare ask left a sour taste on his tongue. He smiled at David’s far away face, his gaze belonging to a girl,

(a girl, a rotten girl, a girl that wasn’t even Katherine because that would have hurt much less, understandable even. She was an unimportant girl and she would never be enough for Davey, his Davey)

(A girl.)

and his smile was full of thorns.

---

“I can’t believe-” the words were practically ripped from his throat. “We’s goin’ so fast!”

David couldn’t drive in the technical sense, but he was captaining a true automobile as the Earth did spin. Jack sat in the passenger seat to crow at any poor little commoners that walked along the beaten path, none of them good enough to ride in the electrical engine Mr. Ford had handcrafted himself.

It had been a graduation present from a fellow doctorate student (one with a wealthy father and ill-meaning connections), a spin in his brand-new electric carriage for his reliable old pal, David Jacobs. Jack’s eyes widened to the size of half-dollars as the man passed over the keys to David- David, who had once put the wrong shoe on the wrong foot and walked around crooked all day, too proud to admit he had made a mistake- and they tried to conceal their excitement as the engine turned over for the first time.

He was going to do it. Right here, right now, in this strange man’s car, with clunky work boots on his feet and David’s spectacles sliding down the bridge of his nose.

“I love you!” Jack roared over the engine.

“I’m going to ask April to marry me!” David practically sang into the wind.

Jack’s throat closed up, his skin was set on fire, and he suddenly wanted to see what happened when you jumped from a gadget that was moving so fast.

“Wait, what? Did you hear me?” David’s hair was beginning to grow long enough that it was wild in the gust of the automobile. “I’m going to ask her to marry me!”

(When he was seven, another newsboy- only a handful of months older than him- had asked him if his momma had ever taught him about love. No, Jack had replied, both sour about being outsmarted by a kid who picked his nose and not ever having a momma in the first place. “It’s this great big tree that grows on the inside of our tummies,” the boy went on. “And one day, someone ‘s gonna come along and pick all ‘f th’ fruit on our branches, one by one, until all you have are pretty green leaves. That’s love.”)

(That same boy would kiss him in a dirty alleyway seven years later, and Jack would crack a joke about all of his apples still being intact. The boy would stare back with blank, unrecognizable eyes.)

Jack couldn’t even be angry- he wasn’t strong enough to be furious anymore, not when his days were long and the nights were spent clutching at empty bedsheets. He couldn’t be angry at his good, unselfish Davey, the boy who rubbed at his mother’s aching feet when she spent too long at the factory lines and clumsily darned socks when his sister couldn’t feel her slender fingers. There was no resentment for the beautiful, dark-haired girl who had accidentally collided with David at the grocer’s market when they reached for the same can of something-or-other. She had been nothing but kind to the gentle giant who lurked in the shadows of David’s life, telling inappropriate jokes and interrupting their dates. April always made a place for him at their table.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all year,” Jack called out, and watched his words dance away in the wind.

---

Katherine had struck him, hard, when he asked her to marry him.

He cradled his jaw with a shock that reverberated around his skull. “Kathy, what did I-”

“You are the most selfish, careless man I know, Jack Kelly.” Her skirts whirled around her ankles- the candy-pink cotton matching other bridesmaids’ dresses to contrast the delicate white lace of April’s wedding dress. David Jacobs was now a married man, and Jack Kelly a desperate one. “We all see how you look at him. There’s not a single person who hasn’t noticed. Get it through your thick, unfeeling skull.”

(“They say,” David’s vows were memorized. His voice never wavered. “That only someone in love would truly understand the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice: a man walks through the Underworld to save his begotten bride, to only turn around and lose her at the very last second. I’ve spent years pouring over that story, wondering why Orpheus would be such a fool, such an irresponsible, lovesick fool, if he truly loved her. But now, standing before my own darling little bride, I understand. I’d turn around for one last look at you. I’d turn every. Single. Time. I’m your fool, April. And I’d choose our fate a million times over.”)

“He doesn’t love you,” Katherine’s voice was heavy with disgust. “And I’m beginning to understand why.”

---

The train ticket was heavy in his palm. “I just don’t see why you have to go,” David whispered. “Who is my son going to learn his bad habits from? Who’s going to teach him how to hawk a headline for extra change? How to poke fun at his papa?”

“He has Les.” Jack’s voice was a barely audible rumble, rusty with misuse. He didn’t talk much these days, Jack Kelly now preferred to linger in the background of conversations, the memory of a bright young man he used to be. Those days had come and gone without much complaint, even if Jack secretly yearned to be so terribly free that he believed in a future for a gangly, fresh-faced boy and a hardened boy with the silver-tongued lies.

(There were rumors, you know. About horrible men and horrible things, about broken ribs and jail time even the Mayor would disapprove of. Jack didn’t do much to dispel the irrational stories people told about him.)

(To prove a lie is false, you must present the truth.)

(Jack didn’t have a truthful bone left in his body.)

A carefully measured silence stretched between them. “Is this about…” David’s hand instinctively reached for Jack’s rough palm- a second of contact, the flash in the pan, their moment in the universe.

He withdrew from his gentle touch, and taking a bullet to his leg

(Jack was twenty-three and alarmingly brave. David was twenty-two and studying to become a doctor. They both cried as David’s unsure hand stitched an unclean wound back together- David, tears of worry; Jack, hopelessly lovesick and falling apart at the seams.)

had been less painful. “It’s about Santa Fe, Dave. Kiss Esther goodbye for me, won’t you?”

The platform to the train was busy, flowing with New Yorkers that had somewhere to be, a place to go, or a person to meet. Jack was the lone soul that took his time to feel the cobblestone under his worn-down boots, the ragged laces dragging against the streets that raised him as their own. His suitcase, a single-handled brown leather

(the only item inside was a bundle of letters, all addressed to David Jacobs)

thing, had never seen a polish rag or repairman’s case, and he felt as if he had the weight of the world to carry with him all the way to New Mexico, where the cattle roam free and Jack Kelly wouldn’t have a broken heart to board up behind slats of wood. The train whistle blew, sharp and piercing, and Jack couldn’t resist his own dreadful hubris; He turned.

And David Jacobs had already disappeared into the swarm of faceless people with their endless inventory of needs to be met, so Jack Kelly got on a train to Santa Fe.

#newsies #newsies on tour #newsies on broadway #newsies live #newsies 1992 #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid au #javid fanfiction #newsies au #newsies fanfiction #katherine plumber #my writing

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bcdrawsandwrites · 4 years ago

Photo

Rating: T

Genre: Angst

Characters: Ernesto and Héctor, though Imelda, Coco, and Miguel also make brief appearances

Warnings: Uhh... depictions of PTSD/trauma, I guess?

Description: Seizing his moment only took seconds to execute, and left scars that lasted for a lifetime and beyond.

Beta Readers: @jaywings and @pengychan

Notes: Uhhh... nightmares suck, that’s all I have to say.

---~~~---

The first night, he doesn't dream at all, for his waking state has become dreamlike.

There's an eerie, almost peaceful stillness all around him, the quietness of the city and the hotel and the room. The sole exception is the distant whistle of the train, but he's been hearing it for hours now, though the train has long since moved on.

In fact, reality itself feels like it has moved on, leaving him in an untouched bubble locked in time. He sits on his bed, holding the book in his hands, but it doesn't feel real--if he were to open it again, he feels like it would just contain the useless garble of dream writing, so he does not. Though its color reminds him of something that he will not let himself remember. He sets it aside.

He feels he should sleep, not because he is tired, but because it is what he would normally be doing at this time, and he's starting to feel a faint desperation on the edges of his consciousness--a desperation to come back, to wake up. Quickly he washes it down with a gulp of tequila, and lays down.

Yet he cannot sleep. How can one sleep on a bed that is not real, in a room that is not real, in a reality that does not exist?

But he must. He must sleep, for they have a tour to continue in the morning.

So he closes his eyes, slowly letting the numbness of sleep take him... until he is brutally pulled from it, his heart thudding against his ribs, his eyes staring wide and blank at the ceiling above him.

No.

He has a tour to continue.

Just him.

Sleep fails to reach him that night.

---~~~---

The first time he does sleep after it happens, it is after a day of pacing, of gnawing on his knuckles, of biting back screams, of copious drinking.

Initially his sleep is empty and dreamless, and he welcomes it openly.

But as the night creeps over the city, he awakens to moonlight blanketing his bed. At first he is annoyed, and merely rolls over with a grunt.

"I'm not doing this anymore!"

Immediately he sits bolt upright, looking for the source of the voice, but there is nothing, and he remembers why there is nothing. He scrambles for a bottle, but a memory flashes through his mind of a dash of something being put into a glass, and for a terrified moment he wonders if some of it could have splashed into the bottle. It makes no sense as to how that could have happened--he was careful as could be--and yet the thought won't leave his mind. He tosses the bottle on the ground, where it hits with a dull clunk, some of its contents spilling on the floor.

Still he remains awake, curled upon a bed that may as well be soft as stone, for how little it comforts him. He must sleep though--he is exhausted, he did not sleep last night, he must sleep, he must move on, he's already seized his moment, he cannot waste it...

The darkness shifts erratically between shadows and the void of unconsciousness, and between those moments there are voices, scents, feelings.

"Ugh, what town is this again...?"

It's heavier than he had thought, and numbly he realizes the meaning of the term 'dead weight.'

"Ah, don't act so jealous. That'll be us one day, right?"

There's something sticky and acrid coating his shoulder, and he tries his best to ignore it.

"I wish I didn't have to miss her birthday..."

Don't be seen, don't be seen, don't be seen.

"Oh, the crowd really loved you tonight, hermano!"

Unfamiliar buildings rise around him, and every turn feels like it will make his heart either stop or explode.

"You said this was the last one!"

It'll be over soon. It has to be.

"A toast! To another step on our journey!"

Nothing feels real other than the ground beneath his feet, and even that feels like it could suddenly cave in beneath him.

"I'm sorry... It was the little girl there--she reminded me of..."

The night is a hell of endless streets and what feels like an increasingly heavy weight in his arms and heart.

"I can't wait to see them again!"

He awakens to finding his pillow damp, and spends the morning screaming into it.

---~~~---

"Where to today, then?"

The suitcase is snapped shut, and he's staring down at him expectantly.

Something about this unnerves him, though he's not sure why, and merely shrugs, throwing a few more things into his own suitcase. "Oh, the next train stop should do. I've heard it's a nice city."

"They all seem the same to me," he replies, rolling his shoulders. "Oh, do you think we'll see a pretty dress there? I wanted to send something back home since I won't be there for..."

"Bah, better save your money. You send them enough as it is, hermano. You need to think about your future!" He snaps his own suitcase shut, and hoists it off the bed, his guitar case on his back. Together they step out of the room, having their breakfast at a nearby fonda before heading to the train station.

The whistle sounds overly-loud for reasons he can't place, and he can't recall handing anyone a ticket, but they board the train regardless. Together they sit, talking fondly of the successful shows they've had, of the sights they've seen, of what they'll do when they finally reach stardom.

He's looking out the window when he hears the voice, hesitant and sorrowful:

"By the way... I'm sorry, amigo, for that fight last night. I should have listened to you."

"Oh, it's all..."

He pauses, his blood going cold.

And at once he blinks awake, finding his head resting against the train window. Quickly he turns to the side to find a stranger in the seat beside him, looking at him in concern.

"Are you all right, señor? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

---~~~---

One day he finds himself back home, at their front door. He hardly remembers the trip itself, but then, everything's been a blur. What he does remember, however, is why he's there.

His heart is fluttering in panic--singing in front of dozens never frightened him, yet the idea of speaking before one person makes his stomach wrench. Before he can even compose himself, the door is open, and the woman is standing before him.

"Where is he?"

"I... he..."

His tongue is lame in his mouth, and he fumbles with his words. Coming up with a quick lie was never difficult before, and yet now it seems impossible. Suddenly he is overcome with the terror that if he should speak, he would tell the truth, and his risk, his cost, his moment would all at once be for nothing.

"¡Tío! Where is Papá?"

The little girl tugs at his pant leg, and he has no answer.

Without a word he turns to leave, hurrying away from the house, but she is immediately following.

"Where is he? Why isn't he with you?!"

Panic overcomes him, and he tries to run.

"¡Tío! Come back!"

His legs grow heavier and heavier, as though he is treading through mud, and the two of them are right behind him, the woman's voice growing louder and more enraged all the while, and the girl's degenerating into hysterical sobs:

"Where is he?! Where is my husband?"

"Where's papá?! I want him back!"

He has to get away, but he can't run fast enough, and their voices are so loud, they seem to come from everywhere at once.

"WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?!"

"¡¿POR QUÉ, TÍO?!"

Why did he even do this in the first place? He never should have done this, for they will surely find out--

"WHY DID YOU KILL MY HUSBAND?!"

She grabs his shoulder, her nails piercing into him.

He awakens in bed, drenched in sweat, his face once again damp with tears.

And he vows to never tell them, never confront them, to pretend he never knew them. Never will he even return to Santa Cecilia--he will avoid it for the rest of his life.

He doesn't need that family anymore, anyway, he tells himself. He has a better one, after all.

---~~~---

The winter chill has gone, the weather is perfect, and he's playing to a cheering audience in an unfamiliar plaza.

"¡Otra! ¡Otra! ¡Otra!" they call, and he obliges them, singing them his new song.

And then he sees it.

There's a man in the crowd. It's one he's never seen before, and one that would not typically stand out to him... except for the fact that he's not cheering. He's staring straight at him, the whites of his eyes visible even in the distance.

Eventually he realizes he is no longer singing, his hands hanging limp at his sides. The crowd has gone silent, only watching, while the strange man amongst them reaches out, pointing an accusing finger.

"That is not your song."

His heart jumps into his throat, and his legs threaten to buckle.

"I saw what you did."

He takes a step back, and the man steps forward.

"You killed him!"

He takes another step back, and he falls, and the man is suddenly standing over him, along with a dozen other sets of eyes.

"You poisoned him for his songs! You did it! I know you did it! It was you!"

"No, no," he stammers, but the man's voice booms over his:

"I know you did it! I know you did it! I KNOW!"

The second he awakens, he scrambles out of bed, dresses himself, and leaves immediately. A few items are left behind in his haste, but not the book (not the book), and he boards the first train he can find, immediately heading for his next destination. As he rides, he tucks the book into his coat pocket, and checks it several times during the journey.

They will not find it. They will not find it.

They will never know.

---~~~---

He's talking with the agent, who is once again going on about movies and films.

"...and they will love it! I'm sure we can work in some of your own songs too, of course..."

He's only been half-listening, almost dazed with the idea that he will be in moving pictures. This is far beyond anything he's ever dreamed of, and he almost feels weightless.

"And that song! Oh, we must include that one."

Nodding, he smiles at the man, only to pause. Someone else is in the room, which is very strange. He hadn't heard anyone else come in...

"No," he breathes upon seeing the hollow face staring down at him. "Are you really...?!"

The man nods.

Frantically he turns back to his agent and gestures behind him. "Señor, I-I think someone has..."

They both turn, but to his shock, nothing is there.

And everything moves on, shifting between one scene and another, one person and another, but the unnerved feeling remains even when he awakens.

---~~~---

A year or so later he's sitting at the table, the director and his co-stars laughing and drinking, celebrating the release of their film. He can't fully understand what they're all saying, but he doesn't care, basking in the euphoric joy of success, gazing around the room at all of the others who are experiencing a similar joy.

Until his eyes fall upon someone who was not invited to the party.

Someone who was not invited, for he should not exist.

"You," he says, rising from his seat and keeping his eyes on him. "What are you doing here?"

"Who are you talking to?"

He turns back to his table, to find it inhabited by different people. Glancing over his shoulder, he finds the apparition gone. None of this is right, but it doesn't feel entirely wrong either, so he moves on... until he finds himself awakening next to one of his co-stars.

If that's how it would be, then so be it. He would remember next time.

---~~~---

It is during a performance that he sees him again, standing just to the side of the curtain, and this time he knows. The stage, the dancers, the audience--none of it is real. He sets aside his guitar and marches offstage, keeping his eyes locked upon him.

This is a dream, he knows. Yet another nightmare. Though he is standing before him, he knows that he is not alive, but instead a corpse left in a ditch somewhere on the outskirts of Mexico City.

The face before him is not that of a beloved friend, of a brother, but of a specter that is insistent on haunting his dreams. And while it is here, he may as well speak his mind.

"This is your doing," he states, jabbing a finger into the ghost's chest. "You haunt me for something that you brought upon yourself."

The ghost only stares at him. Though it appears alive, its hair is the same color, not with the streaks of silver that his own has attained.

He gestures back at the now-empty stage and the darkened theater. "This--all of this--could have been yours, if you'd only listened. We could have shared this together."

Though the specter is still silent, its expression has changed, its eyes glaring, its lips pulled back with the rage of a wild animal.

Yet he finds himself grinning victoriously. "Be as angry as you want, old friend. The most you can do is taunt me. You can never hurt me, or abandon me, or hold me back. Never again."

As though to challenge him, the ghost suddenly lunges forward with a snarl, knocking him to the floor.

He awakens tangled in his own bed sheets, struggling with them on the floor. A woman scrambles to the edge of the bed, looking down at him in alarm... but for once, he has not woken in fear, or anger, or anguish.

Instead, he has woken in laughter.

There will be no more nightmares haunting him, no more ghosts lurking at the edge of his dreams, awake or asleep.

---~~~---

Or so he thinks.

It is a few years later that he is suddenly and violently freed from the mortal coil. At first he fears he has been plunged into another nightmare, but... no. This is no nightmare--not even a "living" one. In fact, in the afterlife he is living his dreams, holding concerts, starring in films, holding parties in a mansion larger than the one he'd had in life.

Of course there is one slight problem, he discovers shortly after death, but it is easily taken care of with a few words and a few payments. After that, he never has to think about it again.

Never again, until one night, many many years later, when a very strange thing happens.

A boy, a living one, appears in the afterlife, looking for him.

“I’m Miguel, your g-great great grandson.”

Not something he'd considered, but a likely result of some of his... actions in the living world. But even so, could this really be true? How could a living child enter the Land of the dead? Surely this must be another one of his strange dreams… and so he rolls with it, reveling in the joy (and brief elevated stardom) that comes with having a living great-great grandson in the Land of the Dead, enjoying the presence of a descendant with as much talent as he.

Until something changes.

The night is nearing its end when a new figure enters the dream. A figure that stands at the edge of the room, draped in shadows, and yet... familiar. It cannot be, though--he dealt with this years ago.

“We had a deal, chamaco!”

But soon the figure steps forward, revealing itself as a dusty skeleton with a drooping frame and torn clothing and an old, old photo of himself... and that's when he remembers. He knows this man.

Of course. Of course he was not done haunting his nightmares, but he knows how he can deal with this.

Yet… he’s never seen that photo in his dreams.

He snatches it away, looking it over--he remembers this, but why is it showing up in his dreams now? He hadn’t thought of this specter in so long…

As he continues to stare at the photo, he hears the child draw attention to the movies being played, and the ghost watches one in particular.

“...That night, Ernesto…”

And he looks up from the photo, a terrible chill filling him.

As the skeleton recounts the story of what happened so many nights ago, that night that he’d tried everything, everything to bury, to justify, to forget, he realizes...

Yes, the ghost has finished haunting his dreams.

Because he is about to make his afterlife a living nightmare.

#ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #coco #pixar coco #coco spoilers #my art #my writing #fanfic

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mariposamisteriosa-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Love Languages (pt.2)

“ Please don’t make this harder than it already is.” she sighs, Looking at her i'm reminiscing on the time we would go to the beach house with her family and her saying those exact words but in a different meaning. It was us playing volleyball with her cousins and we were on opposite teams. I miss the time where it was just us hanging out and doing our own stuff. Walking on the beach, going to the boardwalk, and the most fun was sneaking out the house to get ice cream from the boardwalk.

“ Hear me out at least, I get it. I know I don’t tell you how much I love you but I tell you in so many other ways. Remember when we spent time together at the beach or when I gave you airplane tickets to go see your family. I may show my love differently but that doesn’t mean I don't love you.” I look at her and wait to see the expression on her face but it's blank.

“ I love that you did that for me but I want you to be able to tell me you love me. I want you to tell me how beautiful I am. I want you to hug me, hold me. Protect me“ she said. Many thoughts were in my head but I couldn't say them. She then comes up to me and slowly takes the suitcase away from me. She finishes packing her stuff and slowly walks up to me once more.

“ Phil, maybe in the future we can be together once again. By that time maybe you'll figure out how to show your love in different ways” she said,why couldn't I be better for her?

“ So that's it, you're gonna throw away everything.” I'm frustrated because I show my love for her everyday. The apartment was her idea and I moved with the thought of us being together forever.

“ When we moved into this apartment I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life with you. I had to nail in pictures of us around the apartment because you wanted me to. I do everything for you. Just for you to turn your back on me” I said angrily.

“ It's not about you giving me stuff or doing things I ask you to. I told you many times I just want you to tell me you love me. Express your feelings for once.Your supposed to love me in front of everyone not in private. Everytime we hang out with your family, you hate that I hug you or want to cuddle you in front of everyone” She walks to the living room and takes down all the photos we had of each other up.

“ Are you happy? Now you don’t have to love me in private anymore because we are done” she starts to walk to the door.

“ When you learn to express your feelings and actually are able to love me in front of everyone then we can talk but for now, love yourself first” she walks off slamming the door behind her.

What she said last was what broke me, I didn’t try hard enough for her. I hated that about myself. Now I'm in this apartment all by myself with memories that are slowly fading away. Do better.

#creative writing

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mchalowitz · 4 years ago

Text

the woman is the king, part two

summary: a throughline of the matriarchal scullys; be they ethereal, sharp-witted, and ill-omened.

thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part of this story! writing again has been so great and i’m excited for everyone to read where it goes from here!

part 1: melissa

part 2: dana

———

The exam room is harshly lit, brutally overclean. When the doctor gives the diagnosis, it knocks the breath out of her, and she has the audacity to declare her gratitude. How could she.

The fragility of her age comes to mind on the drive home; her eyes prickle watching her copy of her oncology referral slide across the dashboard.

Dana is only thirty-three. Melissa was only thirty-three. She ponders her mother, Maggie, at thirty-three. Her destiny already decided; along for the military ride. She was carrying the fifth Scully child that year. Their matrarical line is cursed by the thirty-third year.

She simmers with the news for a few days; plotting methods of delivering impending doom. Mulder, the usual harbinger of bad news, is the one she tells first, and she believes using a clinician’s touch might soothe her.

The pronoun that binds them, the “we” travels from his vocal cords to their air between them. When he pauses, she can fill in the blanks of how he wants the sentence to end. We can do something about this or we can fix this. The problem is, there isn’t anything to be done.

Inside her head is a glass and cancer is the water from a faucet turned all the way on. They are merely waiting for the overflow.

Tara is pregnant; she is having a boy. Her brother’s wife is thirty-three. It must be so nice, to be dubbed a Scully, and yet remain so blessed at this foredoomed age.

An appointment to be pumped with poison and Tara’s baby shower fall in the same week. What a scheduling nightmare, she jokes, when she declines the invitation with warm regards. Bill does not laugh and he buys their mother a plane ticket.

The total lack of skeletal structure takes her over, has her melted into the couch. Scully finds the initial nausea passes quickly this time. It is the wave of self-consciousness from Mulder bearing witness to this betrayal of her body that lingers.

“It must be kind of exciting,” Mulder comments. She is watching him wipe down the counter and she doesn’t remember a single time she has seen him willingly clean anything. He is not half-assing any of the responsibilities bestowed upon him by the Mrs. Scully.

“It might be more exciting if it were someone else,” Scully responds, forgoing her usual diplomatic response on the subject.

Mulder pauses, focuses in on her eyes, and in unsaid words, he nods in agreement. He throws the wet rag into the sink with a stomach-churning squelch and falls beside her on the couch.

“You know,” she adds, “Melissa always said she wasn’t going to have kids until she was forty.”

Melissa would goad her into increasingly ridiculous futures; nothing is more ridiculous than futures that will never exist. Neither of them could have predicted such an outcome.

When they were young, one Scully sister was rarely found without the other. It was only the intricacies of adult life that would split them apart. Melissa yearned for adventure; to shed ideals and expectations from their youth in far off places. Their parents envisioned a certain fate for their children, and Dana followed it, until she didn’t.

As she conjures up those conversations about where their lives would go, she realizes she cannot even remember her voice. It rolls over her like a wave, the awareness of fading memories, and it cracks her guise held barely together.

Her glassy eyes brim and she finally crumbles, feeling wholly pathetic. She lacks her usual resiliency that he is accustomed to seeing from her as she weeps, “My sister is gone and I have cancer, Mulder.”

“I know,” he says.

“I’ll miss everything,” she whimpers. The weight of mortality hits her; the decades worth of wasted holidays and the lost memory of her nephew’s birth. Scully will never stand in resolution with her partner after their tireless work for the truth. The loss of an uncomplicated life feels enormous.

She laments what she was never sure of even desiring; the two-story in the suburbs, the babies of her own, the one true love...

“Let’s get married.”

His offer hangs in the air. Scully cries a bout of nausea and bolts for the bathroom. When she emerges, Mulder is there to tuck her into bed.

The sun sets and it rises again on a new day. She comes out of the bedroom apprehensively. Finding Mulder on one knee in her hallway isn’t an idea she can rule out completely. It wouldn’t even come close to the craziest thing she has seen him do.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Mulder rubs circles into his forehead with his cell phone pressed to his ear. She gets close enough to vaguely hear the caller on the other end, listen to the outrage behind, “I couldn’t even put the kettle on without her standing right behind me. In my own home, Fox,” and making it seem as though this is the only issue in the world that matters. And Scully kind of wishes that was true.

“That’s her job, Mom,” he replies. The tone of his voice almost makes her laugh. A polite but clear get me out of here she knows well that comes out during conversations with authority figures, midwestern cops, and not unsurprisingly, mothers.

Their eyes meet, he looks at her as though she is his unsurpassable savior. He begs off the phone, making the usual adult child promises, and sets his cell phone down on the table.

Scully commends Mulder for trying to be more involved with his family since his mother’s stroke. But what a fate he has, caring for the medically and emotionally broken women in his life. He gives her a tight lipped smile and she asks, “Is everything alright?”

“Jury’s still out,” he declares with a shrug. He stands and starts walking toward the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Water, toast, a ring?”

A certainly interesting turn of events for them, a question that could develop into an actual conversation about the night before.

“Mulder.”

“We could get married, Scully.”

“This is so like you, Mulder. This is your stream of consciousness decision making,” she counters. Scully flattens her hands on the table, takes a breath, and attempts to change her tone to sound a little more kind. “I know the idea that I’m dying is bleak. But there are implications to getting married. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Scanning Mulder’s eyes, Scully can see he understands what she means by implications. “Don’t think about that,” he tells her finally, “If you really believe this is the end, what do you still want to experience?”

Scully’s eyes flash away, toward the door. Four years ago, she stood in that spot, and assured her sister unequivocally of her absolute disinterest in dating her new partner. Even if he were just a guy.

Selfishness has often forced a wedge between them; a precursor to many experiences they would have as partners. His brilliance and humanity drew her in then, not unlike the way it does now. When the question was posed--just any guy--their debates were thrilling, a little flirtatious even, and now they can absolutely infuriate her, but she respects his ideals, and she knows that sentiment is reciprocated.

On occasion, Scully is even a little selfish, and allows herself to appreciate just a guy with a little flop of hair that falls onto his forehead, and with the most charming smile.

Whether it be guilt or admiration, Mulder wants her to experience everything before it gets taken away. She can admire the altruism.

Mulder doesn’t ask again, he only suggests. And she accepts.

The commencement of their marriage is without fanfare in a government building on a Friday afternoon with grocery store flowers and a safe kiss on the cheek to clinch the deal. There are no rings but he holds her left hand as they bound down the courthouse steps. During their late lunch at a local diner, the waitress notices their attire, and offers them a free slice of pie, any flavor they want, because it is a special occasion.

A few paces ahead of her on the way to the car, Mulder opens her door. “Your getaway car, my bride,” he teases. The smile on her lips quickly fades. His jovial face morphs to confusion.

But it’s the drip. Blood splatters on the clean, clear plastic protecting their chocolate cream. She tries to maneuver for her purse but he quickly procures tissues from the inside pocket of his jacket.

He squats next to the passenger side of the car and holds tissues to the nose of his bride.

Something is weirdly, intangibly incorrect.

It starts with weekend plans. Mulder is already well aware of her singular escape, her monograph for the Penology Review, with its looming deadline coming up.

He normally makes comments about her unwavering professionalism. It is a mutual agreement to keep their marriage to themselves. The federal government has no investment in the inner workings of their lives; they are legally married and they both know that could easily mean reassignment for both of them. It doesn’t stop him from sneaking in a few witticisms for his own amusement.

Mulder knocks. That’s weird.

The wine is truly suspicious. Except for the occasional beer, Mulder was never much for alcohol to begin with, but what is especially bizarre is the sudden lack of concern over her doctor’s recommended meal plan. He had been following it down to the last letter, and while a glass of wine is not exactly forbidden, it is not the first item on their shopping list.

“We never really talk much, do we?”

Admittedly, the shared looks and delicate touches of silent communication is where they excel, but the question is still somewhat puzzling. Since beginning a routine of casual marital cohabitation, she believes they talk quite a bit. The minutiae of everyday life is often a topic of conversation in ways it never has been.

Scully still plays along by agreeing that, no, they don’t talk. She sips wine and tells him true-ish stories of Marcus, the prom date of a Scully, but not herself, and the infamous pumper truck scandal involving her brother Charlie.

Romantic intimacy has not exactly been a component of their marriage and she has found that cancer does not make one feel like the most desirable of specimens. He has never expressed anything to make her believe he feels anything for her beyond friendship, despite the deep affection they share.

He leans in now; his eyes closed and head cocked. Kissing him isn’t a repulsive idea, but it just seems off, because Mulder is acting so strangely out of character.

Scully scrambles off the couch to get away from the man that is so clearly not her partner. Absolutely horrified, she stares at Mulder, and has no reservations when he steps forward to cuff the pathetic and vile man that invades her living room.

Many lines have still not been crossed and she doesn’t think they ever will be. The cancer is still aggressively present with the treatments doing very little.

Scully prepares herself for the eventuality of hospitalization, potentially for good, and it is very tempting to keep that from Mulder, to allow them to remain in their bubble, but she knows that isn’t fair.

Her car idles on the street outside Harold Spuller’s care home and three soft raps sound on her driver’s side window. She sucks in air deeply and wipes the tears from her cheeks before rolling down the window.

“I didn’t mean for things to get so heated back there.”

“Me neither,” she agrees. When her eyes flash up to his, so guilty and fond, her words fall out in a tumble, unable to prolong this evasion of the truth any longer. “I don’t know why I lied to you. I’m not fine. My treatments aren’t working and my doctors don’t think another round will change that.”

“I’m in this with you, Scully.”

“I know you are,” she affirms. She ducks her head down toward the steering wheel, like a little girl caught eating dessert before dinner. “I’m tired, Mulder.”

“I’ll follow you.”

His headlights shine in her rearview mirror, trailing behind all the way back to where they began this night in Georgetown. Arriving in the apartment, she shuts the door behind them, and informs him, “I’m going to take a shower,” and he nods, reaching forward to squeeze her shoulder. He loosens his tie and starts meandering toward the bedroom.

The phantom ghost of his touch remains on her shoulder and it reminds her of his romantic soul that she is only now been introduced to. Mulder is more emotionally open and affection than she is. He treats her like a wife. They are married, after all.

Their marital bliss is of their own design; enjoyably innocent with its lack of certain intimate elements left largely undiscussed. However, there is delight to be found in mere shared company. With a no-work policy now enacted in her home, the opportunity to see funnier, more relaxed, and domestic sides of each other often makes it feel as though their marriage could be real.

An unspoken agreement to live this arrangement without rules creates something representative of authentic matrimony. Ignoring the initial awkwardness when sharing a bed leads to the normalization of pressing into his warm side each night; falling asleep faster and deeper. Leisurely playing with his hair while reading on the couch one evening introduced a few form of relaxation they both enjoy. He even calls her “honey” occasionally, and she must admit, it makes her feel pleasantly warm to hear it.

It wasn’t right to keep him out of the loop.

Sitting on the tile shower floor, Scully washes the last six hours from her skin. In an attempt to prove to herself, to everyone, that she can still do this, she pushes herself too far. The best decision for the case was to take down the nurse. For her fragile body, not as much.

A small box sits on top of her towel. She picks it up, weighing it gently in her palm.

Mulder already lies innocently under the covers and appears deeply enthralled in his nighttime reading. He looks very youthful and sweet in his wire-framed glasses and his large feet poking out at the end of the bed. She presents the box in question and inquires, “Mulder, what’s this?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs. He glances up briefly, taking off his glasses. “Oh. Wedding present.”

Eyebrows drawn together in confusion, she sits down on top of the comforter, and cautiously opens the box. Her eyes fall on a gorgeously dainty bracelet with a small diamond affixed to a silver chain.

“I don’t know what to say,” Scully finally admits. Mulder smiles, wordlessly leaning forward to close the distance between them. His kiss finally comes with soft lips and firm resolve.

A keen ear kept on the exchange occurring in the hallway, Scully hears the malice in “let her die with dignity,” the intense intent to guilt. Since childhood, Bill has been masterful at identifying a scapegoat.

Appearing at her bedside, Scully takes her brother’s hand. It has been quite some time since they were together in person and she is aware she should focus on the grand gesture of his presence. But they have always sparred on injustice and she just witnessed him as the purveyor.

“I don’t want you to talk to him like that,” she tells him.

It takes almost nothing to generate a quarrel between the two of them. “You keep defending him, Dana, and I don’t see what there is about him to protect,” Bill argues. “You wouldn’t even be in this situation if...”

“Fox has been very helpful,” Maggie interrupts. Their mother is well versed in deescalating the disputes of Dana and Bill; the oil and water of the Scully children. “Bill, sit down and be civil.”

Where Mulder pushes, Bill pulls, and Dana is left somewhere in the middle. Something akin to a jealous feud brews between the two men in her life; each vying for the role of ultimate fixer. It is only when Mulder orchestrates the impossible that her brother cannot deny the miracle.

Most conversations were plans for a comfortable end or perhaps a prolonged, managed experience. The concept of remission, a life without the dark cloud of cancer, was a possibility never even considered.

The day of her discharge finally arrives after a final weeklong observation of her progress, and Mulder, as a now regular fixture of the post-critical care ward, shows up to her room early as usual. He drops a bag on her empty hospital bed. “I brought you some clothes from your apartment,” Mulder informs her. “Unfortunately I couldn’t find anything as uniquely versatile as the hospital gown.”

“I appreciate the effort,” she smiles, ripping open the plastic bag.

Scully can feel an awkwardness emanating from him with three feet between them. She is taking stock of the items he provided when he finally speaks, “Listen, I can be out--”

With a week to discuss the topic, neither of them were brave enough to allow it. The last thing Scully wants Mulder to believe is she married him to take advantage of a kindness he extended to her. It was done with such a different outcome in mind; a selfless act with an outcome to be bathed in heartache.

Now, there is no plan on how to approach where things will go from here. Scully didn’t ever think she would be in a position to have to consider it.

At the very least, they deserve time to enjoy a lack of this particular impending doom.

“Should we get dinner tonight?”

If there is anything they deserve more of, it is time.

It is health.

It is stability.

#x files #xf fic #dana scully #fox mulder #msr

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purplesurveys · 3 years ago

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1275

When you were younger, did your mother or father ever let you open a few presents before Christmas or your birthday even arrived? We open all our presents the night of Christmas Eve to begin with; but no, they don’t tease by letting us open a few of them before our usual schedule.

If you could receive a 100 dollar gift card for either blouses, pants, dresses, shoes or purses, which would you chose? If I could change blouses to shirts, then I would go with that because I’ve recently gotten into t-shirts and sweatshirts and no longer the trendy and preppy tops I used to like haha. But if not, I would go for shoes.

What is your favorite thing to do after crying? Ex: Sleep, listen to music, have some alone time, talk to someone, etc? It varies as it depends on how much I cried. The harder I cried the more I’d want to sleep it off, because it can actually get pretty exhausting. Sometimes I’ll reach out, sometimes I write. It’s really different every time, but at the end I’m just glad I can no longer even remember the last time I cried out of sadness.

Do you think Trump will be assassinated, or will he survive his term? Well we know the answer to this. It’s satisfying to notice him disappear off the face of the Earth immediately after his term, though. I don’t have a clue what he’s up to now.

Last time you felt suicidal? For some reason I felt down last Thursday and I felt the slightest, slightest tinge of suicidal thoughts. No idea where it came from.

Last time you had butterflies? Ugh idk but it was probably BTS-related hahahahahahah

Biggest asshole you know? Certain politicians.

Did you ever leave someone because you know you’d hurt them? No, I was on the opposite side of the coin for this one. I was broken up with because they believed they would hurt me, if not already doing so.

What song did you last listen to? Hip Hop Phile by BTS.

Ever ridden in a police car? Nopes.

Ever witnessed a murder? Hmm, not that I can recall. I do remember having to monitor crime stories for one of my very first journalism assignments and the one time I didn’t tag along to the fieldwork with my classmates, they got to witness a stabbing incident :/ By itself of course it always sucks to have violent situations like those, but as a reporter it would’ve been interesting to see the scene and its aftermath.

Have you ever lied under oath? I don’t think so, no. I can’t even remember the last time I was put under oath.

Have you ever failed a subject before? I’ve failed exams but never an entire class.

Have you ever had a deadly animal as a pet? No.

Have you ever kissed someone of the same gender? Well yeah, I dated one.

Have you ever been in a hot tub before? Sure.

Have you ever been to a movie that sold out? I’ve never experienced trying to buy tickets only to find out they’re all sold out, but that’s also probably because we have hundreds of malls in Manila alone and you can always find a theatre that are still offering tickets.

What movie last made you too scared to go to sleep? I’m not usually that way with horror movies, but I do remember running into a jumpscare on TikTok while I was scrolling at 3 AM. Not fun.

When you’re on a laptop, do you hook up a mouse or use the touchpad? Touchpad. I never use a mouse.

What’s your mom’s mom’s name? Agnes.

Would it be hard seeing someone else kiss the person you like? I’m not interested in anyone so this shouldn’t be a problem.

Have you ever been tempted to steal? Sure, but the urge is never so strong.

What is the main character’s name in the book you’re reading? I’m not reading anything.

Do you have a favorite local band? Who are they? Nah. I did have a Ben&Ben phase, though I haven’t revisited their music in a long time.

Who’s the last person you saw naked, aside from yourself? I’m not sure about completely naked, probably still my ex. As for partially naked, my dad sometimes goes shirtless at home as most Filipino dads do lol.

Who’s your favorite horror monster/killer? The most iconic for me would be that porcupine looking ass from Resident Evil 4, I believe it was meant to be for one of the boss stages or something. Anyway, it’s memorable for me just because that fucker had been impossible to defeat and I loved watching my older cousin do attempt after attempt. I don’t think he ever got to beat him and by the time he did us cousins were already adults, lol.

On a side note, we called him ‘Porcupine’ as kids since a shitload of spikes would stick out of him unpredictably during the boss stage, and I thought that nickname had been just our thing; but I’m actually surprised that that villain actually comes up when you do a simple ‘Resident Evil 4 porcupine’ search haha. I guess other people called him the same thing too.

What kind of music do you prefer to listen to when driving? I usually put on a playlist of BTS’ rapline; I tend to enjoy high-energy songs while driving.

Would you ever own a hairless rat, cat or dog? I don’t see why I wouldn’t when it comes to the dog. I don’t want a cat or rat.

All the people you’ve kissed, what did their names start with? G.

What did you and your ex fight about most? It was about the deeper, more profound stuff. We never saw eye to eye about the future, if we were helping the other grow, etc. Someone was always scared or insecure about something that the other could never help with fixing.

Don’t you love long hugs? Sure, I love getting hugs as long as I’m comfy around the one giving it.

And long kisses? Mhm, they’re nice.

Have you ever purchased condoms? Only for Angela when she had still been too shy to ask for it herself.

Have you ever gone on vacation with your boyfriend/girlfriend? No. We had gone out of town for daytrips, but never for a fully-decked out vacation.

Have you ever trashed your ex’s car after an argument? I wouldn’t do anything that loud. My resentment’s a lot more reserved and subtle, definitely on the passive-aggressive side.

Would you leave a note on a car claiming responsibility if you damaged it? If I left like a paint scratch, no. If I was somehow stupid enough to manage wrecking the car then yes.

Have you ever used someone's handicapped parking pass to get a parking spot? Oh that’s just gross. No. I do remember unknowingly parking over a spot meant for the handicapped once just because the paint was so fucking faded. It was genuinely so hard to tell but in the end I ended up just getting out of the spot and looked for another just to be on the safe, unassholey side.

Are you embarrassed to tell people your job? Not at all! I love telling people I work in PR and sharing the brands I work with...it’s just a bitch trying to explain what exactly it is I do on a normal day. I’m still blanking out on it now that I’m thinking about it, haha. PR’s a challenge to summarize in one or two sentences.

If you ran over an animal would you keep driving? I honestly have no clue how I’d deal with it. Ideally I would pull over and help bring it to the side of the road, and try to ask for help from passersby as well. I’m still not sure what I should/would do next.

Where’s the best place to eat a romantic dinner? French, Spanish, and Italian restaurants always seem to carry a pleasant, date-y atmosphere to them, so any of those cuisines should be ok. I also like quieter restaurants with warm yellow lighting, since that makes me feel at home the most. The place definitely doesn't have to be super popular; I would just want for it to serve good food.

What hobby would you get into if time and money weren’t an issue? Flying planes.

What would be the most amazing adventure to go on? Probably something that’s booked with thrill-seeking adventures? Like a day of wakeboarding, paragliding, skydiving, riding an ATV...I would be exhausted as fuck and sleep for the next three days, but I can’t even begin to imagine how fun it would be.

When people come to you for help, what do they usually want help with? Writing stuff. < Yeah, essentially. My friends ask me for general life advice too.

Has anybody criticized the way your significant other looked like? Yeah. But I always defended her.

Have you written or drawn anything for somebody else? I mean I’ve written long letters, but I haven’t made a poem or song for anyone.

Who has impressed you most with what they’ve accomplished? These days it would probably be Arlan. He just finished his Masters in Journalism at Columbia and I couldn’t be more proud. I remember wanting to attend Columbia too, but seeing how my love of journalism turned out...I’ve long accepted the fact that that route was not meant for me, hahaha.

What is something you think everyone should do at least once in their lives? Finish a painting, which can also serve as a callout to me lol.

What would you rate 10/10? Seafood.

What do you hope never changes? My relationships with my best friends.

Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted? No, I barely have a clue who she is and she seemed decades older when she called me up this morning.

Is there anyone that you’d love to just spill your guts to? I’m good.

Where is the person you have feelings at right now?

Are you happy with your relationship status? Yessssssss. I love not having to worry about another person to spend on LOL

When did you last cry? What for? Two Saturdays ago. The one-year mark of my breakup had been coming up and an overwhelming wave of emotions just flooded me all of a sudden, I guess. There was happiness and relief from not being stuck in it anymore; feeling sorry for myself as I remembered the turmoil and deterioration I went through in the latter part the year; anger for the shit she pulled; and there was also just the general feeling of being grateful that I’m still here after everything.

Do you think you’re wasting your time on the person you love?

When’s the next time you’ll kiss someone? No clue. I’m not holding my breath for it and that’s okay.

Were you ever scared to death of anyone you knew? Or are you currently? Yeah, unfortunately I’ve always been surrounded by at least one person who terrifies me.

What’s the longest you’ve been away from home by yourself? Nothing more than a day. That’s something I have yet to try out.

Have you ever been made fun of, because of what you look like? Athenna was relentless in her insults. I dunno why I was friends her for as long as I was.

Have you ever made fun of others, because of what they look like? If they’re some random person on the internet with disgusting political views, then yeah; but it’s just thoughts I keep in my head and I never verbalized the bullying. But not anyone in real life. Do you think it’s cute when you’re leaving a place, and a guy says “no hug?” If I’m friends with the person I’ll banter with them for a bit until I give in for a hug. If it was any other guy I barely know...I would be disgusted and throw them the dirtiest glare.

Do you wear short shorts (if you’re a girl)? I didn't know short shorts were specific to females. < LOL same. Anyway no, not these days. I used to but they’re not really a part of my personal style anymore.

Who are you the most uncomfortable around? Relatives with the wrong political views.

Who has your heart? Nobody.

Should cloning ever be allowed to happen? I don’t see the point. No.

Are you impatient with really shy people? If it gets to the point that they seem aloof and radiate very I-could-not-care-less-about-getting-along-with-any-of-you vibes, then yeah I feel like I would get irritated pretty fast. But I was an extremely shy person once too, so I’m typically friendly with them and I would usually be That person who constantly stays next to them so they feel like they belong.

Does your house have air conditioning throughout, or do you have one that sits in your window? It sits in the window, as with most households here.

What is the most ridiculous band name you’ve heard recently? I haven’t encountered anything wacky recently.

Would you ever get a fashion mullet? No.

Do you believe that Jesus lived and is returning? No.

Do you believe in spiritual gifts? No.

Do you believe in callings? Not really, no.

If you were rich, would you get a professional photoshoot done? Hell no. I get extremely sheepish in front of a camera and a thousand times worse at posing.

#survey #surveys

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taurusicorn2400 · 4 years ago

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Secret Santa:

Word count: 1054

Can also read on Ao3

Secret Santa. A thing that's not really Violet's thing, but here she is, picking a name out of Clementine's hat, to see who she has to buy a gift for. She stuck her hand into the hat and grabbed a slip of paper. She opened it to see the name 'Brody' written on it. The blonde felt a blush rise on her face. Fuck, she has to buy something for her goddamn crush? Of all the bad luck. What the fuck is she gonna buy her? It's gotta be awesome that's for sure. Fuck OK, now is not the time. Hang out with friends now, panic later.

And panic later she did. Violet is on her laptop, trying to find something, anything to give Brody. She really doesn't know what to get the auburn haired girl at all. Sure she has two weeks to come up with something, but it needs to be good. It needs to be spectacular. She needs Brody to like her…..gift. Her gift. Yep, just her gift. Nothing else. We are not getting into that now. Going to just focus on the gift. This should be easy. They're like, the bestest of friends, she should know what to get. But yet she's drawing a blank. Violet slams her face onto her keyboard out of frustration. This is going to take a while.

And take awhile it did. It took Violet three days before the gift exchange to find the perfect gift. It seems as if fate decided to have some form of mercy on her. Brody was talking about some band, a heavy metal band which surprised the fuck out of Violet, she really likes, saying how the music hits her soul, and they lyrics are so relatable. The blonde didn't mind the rambling about this band she's never heard of because she gets to see the girl be passionate about something that makes her happy, and look really really pretty doing it. OK, so maybe during the two weeks Violet figured out she had a crush on Brody, and has accepted that fact. But that's not the point right now.

The point is that after she got home that night, and did her routine of surfing the internet until two am before crashing, she saw something that made her life easier. She saw that the band Brody was talking about was doing a concert in their town and tickets were on sale right at that moment. She never clicked on something so fast. After she made sure that it was, in fact, real. She's desperate, not stupid. Anyway she clicked and bought tickets, and now she can finally rest because she found an awesome gift. Life is good.

Alright fellas, it's the day of the gift exchange, and for some reason Violet's nervous. I don't know why because the gift she has is dope as fuck, but you know, gay panic and all that jazz. The blonde decided to add some stuffed animal with the tickets so when wrapping it up it wouldn't just be empty space or anything. It seems like a good idea seeing as Brody likes stuffed animals. Violet might get to see her smile when seeing it. Anyway, it's gift exchange day, and they are meeting up at someone's house, the blonde forgot as soon as she was told. But it's all good because she is getting a ride there.

So, as it turns out, they were meeting at Ruby's house. Makes sense. Ruby is one of the most, besides maybe Aasim, efficient out of everyone. So yeah, Ruby's house. Time to not make a fool of herself while giving a gift. Piece of cake.

Not a piece of cake. Violet almost spilt juice on her lap three times, and choked on her food at least once since getting here. Listen, Brody was looking real pretty the whole entire time, so like, it makes sense. But it's chill. Violet's got this. Yep.

OK, so it's time to give the gifts, and yeah no nerves are starting to become present. God, the blonde has never felt like this from giving a gift. Stupid feelings.

Violet watches as everyone starts to exchange the gifts they got each other. She spots the auburn haired girl across the room. It's now or never. The blonde made her way across the room towards Brody. Now or never baby.

"Uh, hey, I'm your uh, secret Santa. So, here." Violet holds out the wrapped present for the girl to take.

Brody grabs the gift, smile on her face. "Oh what a coincident. In your secret Santa!" She hands over the the gift she got over to Violet.

"Oh. That's cool. Um, I hope you like what I got you."

"Let's find out, shall we." Brody starts to tear off the wrapping paper.

"Uh, no you don't gotta do that her- and you're already opening it. OK, yeah."

Brody pulls out the stuffed animal. Oh, now should be the time I actually tell you what animal it is. It's a stuffed dragon. Because dragons are cool. Brody seems to think so, as she hugs it close to her, grin on her face.

"Aww, thank you! They're so cute!"

"Yeah, thought you might like it, so I got it. For you."

"Thank you, I love it. Oh there's more." Brody spots an envelope, picking it up.

"Mmhm, that's the, uh, the main gift."

The auburn haired girl opens the envelope taking out the slips of paper. She reads what was on them, gasping as it hit her what it was.

"Holy shit is this what I think it is?"

"Depends what you think it is."

"Are these tickets to DeathMurder with backstage passes?"

"Oh, then yeah. It is what you think."

"Oh my fuckin' god! You actually got me tickets to DeathMurder!?"

"Mmhm."

Brody wrapped her arms around Violet's shoulders, pulling her into a hug. She's real excited about going to this concert. The blonde is blushing.

"I assume you like it then?

"Like it? I freakin' love it! Thank you, I could kiss you right now."

Oh, well, that short circuited Violet's brain. First the hug, now that? Did she mean it in the 'I'm super excited' way, or the 'very much gay' way? Oh god did Violet hate crushes because then her brain starts asking questions like that. She doesn't know what the fuck to do. Brody pulls away from the hug, face just full of excitement, and god did Violet fall harder at that moment.

"Uh...no pr-problem."

"This is so freakin' awesome. Oh there's, there's two."

"Yeah, just in case you wanted to bring someone."

"What if I said….I want you to go with me?"

"Me?"

"Yeah! I mean, I know I probably talked your ears off with talkin' about them all the time, and you're sick and tired, but I thought it could be fun. And maybe you'll find that you like their music or somethin'. I don't know, it was stupid."

"Yeah I'll go."

Brody's eyes widen. "Wait really?"

"Yeah. I don't mind. And like you said, I might like them. Besides, their name speaks to me."

The auburn haired girl's face lights up at hearing Violet would go with her to the concert. Which was awesome for Violet. So like, win win, you know.

"Oh, this is gonna be awesome. I can't freakin' wait!"

"Yeah. Might be fun." The blonde shifts her present in her hands, catching Brody's attention.

"Oh, you should open your gift. I wanna see the look on your face when you see it."

Violet does open it, but I'm not going to explain what she does because I'm lazy. She pulls out a ticket of her own, reading it. "You got me a tour of NASA?"

"Yeah! Thought it'd be a good idea to have you tour your future workplace."

"You think I'm going to be working at NASA?"

"Yeah, you're gonna be the top worker. Find out how to communicate with aliens, become their friend, and invent time travel."

Violet snorted. But like, I want an alien friend, so like get on that shit Vi.

"No, but for real. You're like, wicked smart in astronomy, said all your teachers were surprised when you knew more than them. They'd be lucky to have you. They'd be stupid to decline you."

Not Violet falling more in love. She actually has someone who believes in her that much. She thinks she's going to make a difference. Brody really thinks she's gonna be that freaking successful, and Violet doesn't know how to deal.

"Thank you."

And the rest of the party was pretty awesome. Dancing and shit like that. Also, fun fact, it took Violet a long time to figure out that concert was a date. Like, three years into their marriage long. She didn't know when Brody grabbed her hand on the walk home. Or even when she kissed her goodnight. Three years of marriage is what made her notice. Yeah, she's, yeah.

#twdg #twd #twd game #twdg s4 #twdg season 4 #twdg violet #twdg brody #twdg briolet #briolet #ericsonclanchrismaschallenge

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