#and/or just me rambling about the immense attention to detail and deliberateness in all the decisions and the way the show set everything

[khaothanawat]

i’ve been sort of unintentionally sitting on most of my only friends opinions but really they largely just amount to ‘thank you, she was perfect, if you get it you get it, if you don’t you don’t.’

[camslightstories]

It’s not that easy

Alex Danvers x Reader, Maggie Sawyer x Reader, Sanvers x Reader

Notes: Hey guys! How are you doing? I finally finish this request which took a lot of me but here it is. I really hope you guys like it and I’m sorry for being so inactive lately!

My inbox and messages are always welcome for everyone so just text me to chat anytime! I wanna heart your requests, opinions, theories, questions and more!

Request- anonymous

Taglist: @captain-josslett​ @aznblossom @multi-images

The Department of Extranormal Operations was often overwhelmed by silence, people knew what they had to do and they did. No one in the right mind wanted to deal with the director, Alex Danvers in any type of situation. The black lead walls made the building feel safer even though there were at least a hundred elite trained agents walking around it.

The long led lights on the roof illuminated the room. A three target sheets at the other end of the roof. Various pads around your body protect you in the training. A table in front of you with different sharp objects of all sizes.

The difficulty you had as you started to concentrate on the training after your new powers started to show up. Your mind now was invaded by thoughts that took control of you. Pressure in your mind as your telekinesis started to show up in the most unexpected moments and unfavorable moments.

Sometimes the things you wanted or thought about would land in your head or back, leaving marks or pain around your body, you remembered how you got some of them but not the others. And as one of the new recruits on the DEO instead of being on the field regularly, you were on the tech and backup side beside Winn earning the trust of the group.

Most of the time your moves were uncoordinated and clumsy and it got worse every time you would catch the side of a certain director or detective. Your focus was lost completely when you realize the couple entering the room hand by hand with Supergirl and Winn, not so long behind.

Failing to begin obviously you caught both of their glances making them smile, and when you were about to return a smile when a cup flew straight into your nose. The red liquid dripping from your nose and upper lip was now covering your hand as you clutched it in your face trying to relieve some of the pain, only making it worse as it stung.

You were so distant in what was happening in front of you, that you didn't notice when the couple ran in front of you with concerned looks on their faces. Until a soft hand caught your jaw tilting it up carefully as they watched the wound. You stood in shock as you felt the closeness with the director’s girlfriend, observing every small detail of the Latina.

Her brown eyes squinted in concentration, you couldn't really compare them chocolate, or your favorite espresso shot, they were hypnotizing without any other thought. She was biting the inside of her cheek, as her eyebrows came together when she focused her attention on you. Small dimple in her cheek as she focused on you, her hair dropped from her shoulders with small highlighters at the end of it. The small little freckles around her nose popped out every time she would scrunch her face in concentration. And every little detail was there, and you couldn't help but memorize them.

Your eyes turned away when you felt the first burn in your face, immediately crunching your nose as a reaction to the discomfort making the couple laugh softly. Your face had moved so fast as you heard the laugh of Alex Danvers for the first time, it was soft, addicting, and combined with her girlfriend’s laugh unforgettable.

Maggie claimed as she kept holding your face with the stuffed alcohol cotton in her hand. Her tone with gentleness and a hint of control, you didn't even protest since your focus was on hoping there was not an evident blush on your cheeks.“Y/N, you need to stop doing that adorable thing while I clean the wound up, okay?”

“Sorry” You murmured under your breath as you felt a stare, looking to your side to find the DEO director watching you intensely with a spark in her eyes. A spark you couldn't identify even if you tried, there was something odd about it. It did not hold anger, jealousy, or any negative feeling but uncertain like if she was wearing her feelings on them. You didn't even think twice before apologizing looking up to the ceiling immediately, hoping for the moment to end.

The redhead director asked when her girlfriend finished helping you. “That's it, agent Y/L/N. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, good- great. Thank you” You rambled out immediately standing straight up in front of her with difficulty as you did thanks to the various pads around you. Averting our eyes from them, only to find the superheroine and her friend containing their smiles.

Alex and Maggie looked at each other as you ran out of the situation the moment your name came out of Winn's mouth. Your blushed cheeks never disappeared as you helped the brunette man and neither did the small smile in their faces when you subconsciously would steal glances from them immediately looking down when they caught your glance.

——

The tension of the room was thick as you and the rest of the new recruits stood listening to the Director Danvers orders. Your undivided attention was on the redhead woman as she spoke, only shifting your glance when the redhead stared back at you discreetly.

Even when you tried to now lose focus when she spoke, you found yourself zoning out as you stared at her. Some of the important details remained in your head as for the rest, like when people say it ‘in one ear, and out the other’.

You found yourself being called out by the director before the rest of the recruit walked out of the briefing room, your hands fidget with themselves as you stared unsubconsciously at the redhead while she did the same. Quickly noticing the director started, your eyes widened in embarrassment for a second making her tilt her head questionably.

Adorable.

You thought and before realizing it she smiled blushing furiously at you. You started to shift in your feet when she started speaking. Her voice sounded different, it wasn't the same tone she would usually use in the agents, it had a hidden sense of corner and care and you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach as she spoke.

“I will like for you to be with me and the rest of the Supergirl team during this mission”

You stared at her wide-eyed as the words fell out of her mouth. You nodded quietly as you felt your mouth go dry, the anxiety creeping inside of you as she dismissed you. You couldn't help but deliberate on the fact that your boss and the NCPD detective are well aware of your immense crush on both of them.

Your thinking of the different excuses you could make up when they would ask about your attraction, or your falling for them was interrupted when you ended up crashing into something harshly in the training room, falling face-first into the floor. Groaning at the throb of your head, you murmured harshly to yourself. “What is next to a fucking mat?”

The moment you realized the words fell out of your lips, it was already too late. The blue mat had already hit your side. You kept silent before getting up, throwing the training mat directly into the wall in annoyance. Cursing your powers as the pain inflicted by your misunderstood words and thoughts was now getting irritating.

And certainly didn't help that you couldn't get out of your head, certain couple. Their smiles, their laughs, their little details on their expression or attitude when they are focused on something, or the way their eyes light up at the mention of motorcycles, guns, or pool.

You couldn't get enough of them. And as much as you tried and tried, falling every single time, you couldn't get them out of your head. You knew the moment they found out about your attraction to them was going to be just like the rejection in movies, you begin rejected, and get heartbroken once again.

——

Kara stood beside her sister, hands-on her belt, biting her lip in a way to suppress her smile as she looked at Winn. Winn looked at the Danvers Sisters before speaking, explaining the options for the mission without letting go the teasingly open remarks to the redhead and the Latina, every time your name would come up.

Alex would immediately blush and tell the brunette to shut up, while the Latina kept quiet, shaking her head at the group antics. Every once in a while the couple shared a knowing look with a small smile, and when they did Kara would make a teasing remark to them.

“Golly, you guys got to get your crush under control” Kara claimed quietly so only the couple could hear, ignoring the blonde both of them turned to glance at you when the Brunette technician had called you.

“It’s not that easy” both of them murmured staring at you.

You stood beside Winn as he gave you various things for the mission, a mind control shield that for you helped control somewhat your powers, which he called the ‘de-tel control’

And as the brunette technician talked to you, you felt a glance on your back. Turning around you saw the Latina and the redhead snapping their heads immediately to their side with blushed cheeks. You looked at them questionably before turning back, and as you did the faint whispered from Kara caught your attention “And you say I'm the oblivious one”

Ignoring it, you kept your attention on the technician explaining what you were going to have during the mission. But a certain gut feeling didn't let you understand half of what Winn had said.

——

You stood beside Kara in front of the warehouse door, your hand reaching for the alien gun, Winn had given you under restricted rules. The heroine scanned the place only to shake her head because of the lead walls, while you stood at her side listening to Winn through the comms explaining what the scans signals were giving out.

The moment the blonde gave you the first sign to move inside with her you activated the ‘de-tel control’ at the side of your head. A small beeping sound invaded your ear, coming directly from the shield, ignoring it you kept registering the place with precaution. When the couple announced in your ear that they had arrived you couldn’t help but smile as the two sisters annoyed each other.

Neither of you guys could find something in the Warehouse after checking the place. The Director of the DEO looked annoyed as she spoke in her earpiece directly to the technician while Kara and Maggie wandered around checking everything again. You stood at the side scratching your head as the throbbing pain in your head began to fill in.

You kept quiet as the frustration began to fill you, with the pain in your head it felt almost impossible to concentrate on the mission. Walking to one of the sides of the warehouse where lines of shelves were, you stared at a solemnly black box on the first shelf, and as you did the pain on your head increased.

The pressure of the shield didn’t really help, it felt like someone was pressing a gun to your head and the frustration didn’t really help. You were about to take the thing off when the red-headed Danvers appeared at your side, a hidden smile in her face as she talked to you, rambled to you specifically.

“Y/N, how are you feeling? It seems as we arrived too late, but Winn is running more scanners to determine if there is something we missed, it's really nice-...great for you to work with us, Agent Y/L/N”

Kara and Maggie staring at the two of you curiously with a small smirk and a beaming smile. Both of them frowning seconds after as they stared at you worriedly. You were about to ask for the sudden change when the racking pain overwhelmed your head, you didn’t register the moment you felt into your knees crying at the ripping pain.

You felt as if you were underwater as the oxygen inside of you started to leave your system. You hear the familiar voices distantly, so far away to reach for help. Your vision went blurry as you felt your body giving in.

Alex had knelt down next to you, calling your name out various times. Her hands went to grab yours as you gripped tightly your hair, crying out of pain.

The redhead didn’t register the moment her girlfriend and sister stood beside her with the same worried expressions. Kara stared at your hands carefully as Maggie and Alex tried to make you let you as you hurled yourself unconsciously. Noticing the beeping light at the side of the device on your temple, she didn’t hesitate to take it out as fast as she could without hurting you further.

The pain had slowly calmed down, the beeping sound on your ear now stronger than ever made you turn to where the black box stood. Your mind seemed to concentrate on the box and the sound, you couldn’t hear what they were saying, somehow the pain had gone away but the feeling of being underwater stood stronger than ever.

The black box flight directly into the wall cracking it open revealing the items inside, the heroine immediately determined the same beeping sound before yelling into her comms. “We have a bomb, Winn!”

The blurred voice through the comms invaded your ears “That’s what triggered the device and Y/N pain! You guys need to get Y/N out of there now!”

“I can turn it off, get Y/N out of here” Kara claimed to look at the couple.

You felt two arms lifting you up in bride style before you felt the exhausting feeling gaining over you, everything seemed to barge in your senses before your blurred vision became black.

——

Alex and Maggie sat at the chairs beside your bed. Worry expressions on their faces as they did. The med bay had been cleared out by the Director the moment they arrived, the redhead with you unconscious in her arms walked in, immediately checking you herself. Kara had arrived shortly after, stopping Winn from coming into the room and explaining what had happened to you.

The blonde knew the moment her friend would walk in saying he may have not tested your shield and didn’t think of protection against bombs, the least he was going to receive from the couple was a punch or maybe two.

And even after all she couldn’t help but smile at the crushing of the couple, it had been a few weeks since they had revealed it to her and she has been teasing them nonstop. With their nonstop talking about you, the social media stalking, the long looks, and the special caring treatment they would give you every time you were around.

Alex and Maggie both looked like kicked puppies staring at you with worry and nervousness as laid on the hospital bed wired into various machines. Neither of them had left your side after 36 hours of you being out.

The first thing you registered as you slowly opened your eyes was the bright white light on top of you, and the thirstiness on your throat. Sitting up still adjusting to your surroundings you reached for a table, wanting to drink water.

You didn’t register the couple on the chairs until the cup of water on the table was brought out without the right instruction, showering all of your head with it.

You cursed without thinking when you started to rub your eyes only to be cut off when a teasing voice made you know you had actually said it. “Fucking-”

“I had no idea someone could sound so adorable cursing” The Latina woman claimed with Alex by her side.

You blushed before clearing your throat trying to hide your embarrassment as you spoke. “Hey”

“How are you feeling? We have been worried sick” The redhead said as she grabbed your hand carefully, scared of you pulling away.

“I’m...” You started only to stop when the Latina grabbed your left hand, in the same way, her girlfriend had done.

“Great, good, amazing” You stumbled in your words as the butterflies in your stomach began to move rapidly, so fast you felt your heart on your ear, and by the looks, on their faces, they had registered by the rapid beeping of the monitor.

——

You walked down the hallway a few hours later with the basic sweats from the DEO. The butterflies in your stomach hadn’t left since the bed moment with your crushes and certainly didn’t help the fact that every time you would look at them, they seem to increase.

The loose grey sweatshirt helped you hide your hands in the long sleeves, as you walked anxiously out of the med bay. But before you could go downstairs to grab your things and go home for the ‘rest’ you needed which Alex had ordered. Two voices behind you made you turn out as fast as you could.

“Y/N!”

With your heart in your sleeve, and the anxiety in your chest you gave the couple a small smile before speaking, a tone higher than your regular voice. “Hey guys”

The two of them furrowed their eyes before shaking their heads simultaneously, you looked at them worriedly only for them to reassure you with smiles. Before anything else could happen Maggie spoke up, fidgeting with her hands as she did.

“Y/N, we like you… like a lot and we were wondering if-”

Finished Director Danvers “You would let us take you on a date?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and your cheeks blushed completely as you stared at them lost of words. The couple shifted in their feet awkwardly waiting for your response, as you kept quiet the Danvers woman started to speak again nervously looking at you.

“And if you don’t, then that's completely fine. We understand and we never wished-”

Cutting the redhead speech you beamingly smile at them. “YES!”

You cleared your throat as you watched them giggled at your response before straightening your back before responding again. “I would love to, I mean”

They nodded and told you, they would pick you up by 7 at your apartment. You walked away almost bouncing in your with butterflies moving incredibly fast in your stomach and your ears full of your beating heartbeat.

And without any surprise, months after you couldn’t help but fall more in love with your girlfriends. And somehow the strong ear-filling heartbeat and the butterflies on your stomach never left.

[uponrightful]

If this is greater than 500 or been asked before I'm sorry !!

But what about from Wolffe's POV:

“Please. Look at me.” Unencumbered by the modulator, that low voice sounded clearer than ever. Not even in her dreams could she hear that constant burr all the clones had. Especially Wolffe. Weakened by his command, she tilted her gaze up.

The girl broke into a loud sob.

Bi-colored eyes stared deep into hers, searching past her watery eyes with a fierceness that left her hands fumbling for purchase. On anything. Anywhere. And after a few seconds, her heart decided on his face. Her cries deepened, as she pulled herself closer to him. Burying her face to his exposed neck, all in weakness of seeing that beautiful scar over his face. She saw that golden glitter in his eye, and the soft expression she’d dreamt of over and over again. She felt the heat of his skin against her face, bringing her even closer to the lucid dreams she’s spent the past years of life in just to get one more night of feeling him.

“You found me.” She moaned into his neck, releasing fear-filled cries against him. She just hoped it was real. That he was truly back, and not under that evil influence that had terrified

her for so long. “Please, don’t hurt me again.” She pleaded, gripping harshly at the edges of his armor, pulling him impossibly closer despite her fright. “You found me.”

It was too much all at once. His smell, his voice, the sound of his heart, his arms suddenly wrapping tight around her waist as she fell further into him. She remembered that strength, holding her in the early morning hours, securing her to his bare chest like there was nowhere in the galaxy he’d rather be. Protecting her, and silently loving her even while asleep. Now, down on her knees in the snow, it was all she could do to hold onto him. All she knew was that she’d found him. And whatever it was telling her she was safe, this time she was certain she could trust it. Hearing him say speak so softly… it was all she could take.

“I found you Wolffe.”

Their reunion just really got me 😍

Commentary Track for Welcome Company

Copy 500 words -or more- of any of my fics and I’ll give my thoughts/rambles on what was going through my head -or the character’s- when I wrote it!

*Send one in here*

Oh my 🤍🤍 This one makes me so happy 😍😍 Let's get into it!

***

Wolffe hadn't heard Mando'a apart from Rex for years. And even then, Rex wasn't the most habitual with it. Only muttered phrases, or using it as a reassurance of sensitive information when they weren't sure who was listening in. Being Bounty Hunters meant that the pair heard a lot of languages, but nothing sounded quite like Mando'a. They'd met thousands of people traversing the galaxy hunting targets for petty pay-outs, all of them with particular voices, and lilts that set them apart from everyone else. But... there was one voice that Wolffe wanted to hear so badly, listening for her everywhere, all the time.

So when he heard that sweet voice, that soft burr of Mando'a, Wolffe felt like the entire galaxy has stopped spinning. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he felt fearful that it was just another false alarm. That his mind was playing another cruel trick on him for being so kriffing hopeful all this time. But he couldn't chance it, and turned around to see his entire world standing right there before him like she'd never left. Wolffe had spent so long looking that actually seeing Pup felt like a dream. There was a mirage-like effect that kept him from speaking her name, or even realizing that his appearance was probably not a welcome one.

He tried to say something... anything. But nothing but a failed choke could be heard over the blustering snow and wind around them. He saw her flinch, the way her whole body shied away from him then. In that moment he recognized a shocking fear; One that came from seeing a man in armor, and of what they could do when their mind wasn't their own. Wolffe didn't know what to do. He did want to keep her from running, but by the way things were going already, his chances didn't look good. He opened his mouth to try and speak again, but before he could get anything out she utterly collapsed.

"Please don't hurt me."

It cuts Wolffe down to the bone to hear her say those words. They echo painfully in his mind and he feels the weight of his incompetence and broken promises to her fall in a fiery crash all around him. All he ever wanted was to keep her safe... Protect her from the things he'd spent his whole life fighting to ignore and suffering through nightmares because of. Her cries were painful, and attacking his heart in a way that was too excruciating to ignore. Wolffe knew he'd been absent, and he blamed himself wholly, but he couldn't resist from trying to reassure her that he wanted nothing more than to hold her again.

Note: Wolffe is a man of action. He's not good with words, and often they just fail him completely. And when I drafted the first cut of this chapter, I didn't use Wolffe's point of view because I wanted to focus on Pup's first sight of a clone in general. I wanted you to experience that fear alongside her, and although you knew it was Wolffe all along, she doesn't know that. And even if her mind had allowed for it, she still would've been wholly fearful of him anyways.

Note: Wolffe's blame isn't well-founded. He has a skewed idea of what is really his fault and what isn't because he remembers everything he did under the influence of his inhibitor chip. Although he couldn't fight it, Wolffe still holds himself to such a high standard that he honestly believes that he just wasn't good enough to fight against it. This is part of his weakness as a character, and more so as a man in general. He thinks strength is something he has to possess all the time; That showing weakness is a sign of his inability to perform the tasks he was created for. (And aside from loving Pup, Wolffe is very harsh on himself when that standard isn't upheld to the fullest.)

Every movement was deliberately slow. Wolffe could see her terror, and for once in his life, he thought that maybe showing her his face might be the only thing that would put someone at ease. The one part of him that he hated most was the only proof that he was still the man she'd been so kind to love in the first place. The same scar and eye that Pup had so softly fawned over, and loved like it had always been a part of him. Her eyes were bloodshot and overflowing with fat and heavy tears, darting everywhere but at his visor... It broke his heart, and he wanted to help it stop, but she needed this to be done right. And that meant slowly. The second she shied away, Wolffe felt the first pinch of his own emotion beginning to take over. His chest burned and pressure started building behind his eyes. His baby... His precious girl was so terrified that she couldn't bear it.

"Please. Look at me."

Wolffe knew his voice wasn't enough. And his plead was desperate, begging for her to take a chance that she had every right to ignore. But something in him was adamant. Maybe it was knowing that he was this close and it was up to her to decide whether this could go any further, or maybe Wolffe just needed to see her face again. It'd been so long, and he'd not forgotten a single detail, but there was nothing that compared to seeing her somewhere other than his dreams.

It was instant recognition, and Wolffe was utterly torn apart with relief when she lurched towards him. It was galaxy-shattering to feel her hands on him, and see that fear instantly transition into shock that matched his own. Her fingers were frozen, and Wolffe finally began to take in the first signs that Pup was actually not in the best health in that moment. But he couldn't pay proper attention to it with her cold nose and hot panting breath fanning his neck.

She's really here. I can hold her again. I don't have to keep looking anymore... hurting anymore. She's safe. My baby is right where she belongs.

"You found me."

He's been trying not to move too fast, but she's holding onto him too tight; Practically climbing into his lap to get closer. And Wolffe is a patient man, but he can't resist from wrapping his arms around her and hauling her as tight to his chest as he can. She's fucking shaking, from the immense fear and shock, but from this nasty weather that's made her coat almost rock-hard from frozen sweat and body heat. Wolffe knows she's in danger of over-exposure, and now that he's certain she's safe, it takes almost immediately takes priority.

The first thing Wolffe does is cry.

It's not a soft relief of tears, nor is it the quiet kind that soldiers hide beneath their helmet when they're afraid of showing their humanity. These are the kind that hurt. The ones that make your chest feel like it's being cracked open and your head is being pressed by a vice. Wolffe cries like the day his chip was removed; And despite not remembering that day, he couldn't care less that an entire outpost of people are watching him cling to this little woman he's wailing over. It's the rawest emotion Wolffe has ever felt in his life, and for all of the loss and guilt he feels, that's a fucking statement he's not surprised by in the slightest.

Pup is his motivation. She's always been his light at the end of the tunnel, and his reason to keep going when he didn't feel like he could physically do it any longer. He spent his whole life believing that he wasn't worthy of anything good, or wholesome. And right when he's at his lowest, someone -or something- decides that what he needs is a woman with a soft voice and a love for him that is unmatched and limitless. Wolffe clings to that with everything in him, just to have her ripped away again. Now he's holding her. Soothing her at her lowest point, and wondering just what he did to have another second chance and falling apart with gratitude and pure fucking love for this woman because even after all this time she still found it in herself to love him.

So Wolffe cries like never before, because love is the most painful thing he's ever felt before. But he would've have it any other way.

***

Thank you for the request my love 🤍

I tried to focus more on Wolffe here than on my own thoughts while writing. I don't get to write from his perspective often anymore and I really loved getting the opportunity to do so! So thank you for letting my give Wolffe some much-deserved love!

[sending-the-message]

Nightmare Fuel by TF2Milquetoast

My name is Mike Laudner, and I collect everything General Motors. Chevys, Pontiacs, Buicks, Cadillacs, Oldsmobiles, Saturns, Geos, you name it. I know all the facts about each and every motor ever produced by GM, as well as the specs and builds of any model to come off the line since 1930. Some say it’s a waste of time; others call it a specialist hobby.

I call it a lifestyle.

I drink from GM-branded mugs, eat from GM-branded plates, dress in GM-branded clothes.

And, of course, drive GM cars.

I’ll be honest, my garage isn’t that large, so when I say ‘cars,’ I’m referring to seven of the cheapest sets of wheels I could buy with my meager salary. If you’re curious, I have the following: a 1999 GMC Tahoe, a 1991 Saturn SL SW2, a 1989 Geo Metro, a 2011 Chevy Spark (my daily driver), a 1979 SAAB 900, a 1983 Chevy Blazer (LS swap), and a 2003 Chevy SSR. You might think that the insurance would be astronomical, but since five of them count as classics, it actually costs less combined than a modern sports car. And it’s absolutely worth it.

I think all gearheads out there, GM or not, will agree that, sometimes, there’s just one car that changes your entire perspective on what every other driving experience should be based on.

For me, that car was an ‘89 Isuzu I-Mark.

You may be thinking, Isuzu is a Japanese company, right? Well, in 1972, General Motors bought a considerable share in the company, which prompted a joint effort of Isuzu producing GM-produced cars, and vice versa, which lasted until 2008, when Isuzu pulled out of the U.S. entirely. The I-Mark was made in 1974, and is essentially a Chevrolet/Geo Spectrum.

I got the car in 1991 from an anonymous seller for $2,500. 4,600 miles. It was a steal, considering how well it had been maintained, and I assumed the guy had no idea what it was worth. It made even less sense when I discovered how it felt to drive.

On the trip home from buying it, I filled up the tank and let it loose. It felt smooth, refined, and almost European in quality. Now, I may be biased towards GM, but even I am willing to admit that its vehicles don’t have the best refinement. So, when I turned a hairpin for the first time and stuck to the inside like glue, I was both utterly shocked and immensely pleased. A proper driver’s car made by GM? This was the find of the century.

The only detail that deterred me was an occasional sputtering noise from the engine compartment. I figured it was oil at first, but the owner said he’d changed it only a few months back. There were no leaks, either, so I disregarded it as an annoyance.

That thing was the center of my attention for the next week, though. I’d visit fellow car enthusiasts at community exhibitions and hand them the keys, daring them to see for themselves how good the drive was. Sometimes I placed bets. The car impressed every time.

But about two weeks in was when the interesting quirks began to reveal themselves. I hadn’t noticed it at first, but the fuel gauge wasn’t actually connected to anything. I only realized this two weeks into owning the thing, and I was glad I saw it when I did. The needle went down normally as I drove, so I didn’t suspect anything was wrong. At one point, I dipped the tank to see whether there was any gravel, which could be causing the sputtering. I saw that there was nothing but greasy residue inside the tank. This was probably starving the engine for fuel, which resulted in the noise, but I still have no idea how it lasted that long on empty. I immediately pulled my 900 up to the side and siphoned some gas into the tank. Sure enough, the noise stopped.

The seller never mentioned any problems related to the dashboard, so I figured it was just a new glitch that had come up.

Then there were the interior lights, which never switched on, and the dashboard, which never lit up at night like it was supposed to. I checked the wiring myself, and there was nothing wrong; no frayed ends, no missing fuses. I just ignored them, as they weren’t too much of an issue to worry about just yet.

I wish I could say I had only good memories of that car. And, indeed, most of them were. But there was one incident that occurred in 1993 that I wish I could forget. It’s been lodged in my mind ever since, and it’s the one thing keeping me from buying another Isuzu.

My neighbor at the time was a man named Frank, and I won’t include his last name for reasons that will soon become clear. He was a car buff as well, and he owned a Chrysler Conquest, which is a glorified Mitsubishi Starion without the import badge. But he loved that car, and I was happy that he was happy.

He and his wife had been good friends with me for a long time, and we bonded well, especially over cars. He was quiet when it came to anything else, however, and as a result, I was the one he confided in the most.

As soon as I pulled in with the I-Mark, Frank was skeptical.

“Mike, that’s pretty risky,” he remarked as I opened the door and got out. “You know about those reliability issues people keep complaining about. New import brands can’t be trusted.”

Frank was more of a Chrysler fanatic than a GM one, so I couldn’t blame him for this mistake.

“You know this is basically a Chevy,” I said. “In fact, it IS a Chevy. You gotta let go of your whole ‘all import brands are untrustworthy’ mindset. For Christ’s sake, you own a Mitsubishi!”

“Chrysler,” he corrected. “They changed enough about the Conquest to qualify it as its own model.”

I shook my head and gave up.

“What’s so special about this thing, anyhow?”

I explained to him how it drove far better than anything I’d ever driven. Immediately, he called bullshit.

“Mike, it’s a freaking ISUZU. Hell, your Metro would be faster than that thing.” At this, I strolled over to the passenger door, opened it, and gestured with my arm for Frank to step inside. He reluctantly obliged, shifting nervously as I got in and started it up.

I must say, the Isuzu put on a fantastic show. Swooping bends and steep hills were no match for that car. It was almost as though it was deliberately trying to show off.

At one point I looked over to Frank while we were at a red light. I expected, if anything, a vague, hesitant smile that admitted his mistake. But I’ll never forget that expression he had- it was one of pure shock, of absolute fear. His eyes were locked forward in a frozen state of terror at some unseen thing in front of us.

I should have paid more attention to that look.

When we got back, Frank exited the car and walked into his house without a word. I shook my head and pulled into my drive.

Before I entered my house, I checked the fuel gauge. It had gone up slightly from before, so I assumed that the issue wasn’t going away anytime soon.

While unlocking my front door, I looked over at Frank’s porch and saw his wife, whom shall remain unnamed, leaning on the railing and gazing at the silhouette of the Conquest in the fading light. I’ll admit that I was always particularly fond of her as a person. She had dark green eyes, fair hair, and a pale, smooth face. We’d sometimes sit on the street bench and talk about things. Usually I directed the subject towards cars, while she pretended to be interested.

I turned my GM-branded door key in the slot and went in.

That night, I had a really strange dream.

I was outside my house in the street, polishing my Isuzu. Frank was directly adjacent to me, washing his Conquest with a hose. It was fairly mundane, as dreams went, at least for a while. We just stood there, not saying a word to each other.

At one point, I looked up from the panel I was working on, and at that exact moment, Frank looked up, too. I put my head back down and I could see out of the corner of my eye that he’d done the same. Out of curiosity, I poked my head up once more. In perfect harmony, he followed. When I went back to work, he did the same. It was really… bizarre.

The next day, Frank and I met on his porch for a few beers. It was a tradition we’d developed over the years; one of the few things Frank really enjoyed.

After a few swigs, he turned to me and tapped my shoulder.

“Hey, Mike,” he said, pointing at the I-Mark.

“Yeah?” I inquired, slightly inebriated.

“You should get rid of that thing. It’s bad news.”

“How so?” I asked, incredulously.

He took another swig of liquor. “Well, you see, I had this weird dream last night.”

I sighed, preparing myself for a drunken rambling.

“I was in your car, just sitting in the passenger seat. I could see out the windshield that there wasn’t any sky or ground or any discernable forms. It was just me and that thing.

“I leaned over outside the window and saw the tires spinning endlessly, just floating over the gray abyss.

“Then the radio came on. I pulled myself back in, and the windows scrolled up automatically.

“It said some weird things, Mike. That radio said some pretty fucked-up things. I don’t know about that car, man. You should just trade it for an old Laser or something.”

I rolled my eyes. “Frank, I’m not going to get rid of my car just because of some stupid ‘vision’ you had.”

I turned to look at him and froze. His expression was the same as the one he’d had yesterday when he got out of the car. His gaze was affixed in a straight line, just looking into some unseen void.

I punched his shoulder. “Frank, you okay?”

He shook his head and blinked a few times.

“Yeah, I’m good. May have had a few too many,” he said.

We continued drinking in silence. We sat there for almost half an hour before one of us spoke again.

“Hey, does that thing have a broken fuel gauge?” Frank asked.

I was taken aback. “What?” I asked, surprised that he’d noticed this flaw. For most of yesterday, he’d been staring straight through the windshield. I don’t think he turned towards me once.

“Never mind,” he said, chuckling slightly. “It’s just that, in the dream, I couldn’t help noticing the fuel gauge. It was going up instead of down as we hovered there.”

I realized that this comment was probably a sign that Frank had had more than enough to drink.

“Alright, Franky boy, let’s get you inside. You’re done. No, put that bottle down, come with me.” I helped him up and escorted him to his bathroom, where he slumped down against the sink. I saw an inebriated smile crawl across his face.

“Okay, think you can hold out here, buddy?” I asked, not expecting a sober response. After a few seconds of silence, I shrugged and started out the door.

“Mike,” Frank stuttered, struggling to get up off the floor.

I turned and looked at him.

“I know you can’t take me seriously right now. But I mean it. That car is nothing but trouble, you hear?” His drunk smile had faded into a look of almost sober seriousness. “It’s not just the dream… when I was in there with you, it felt… wrong. Not because of how good it was, but because… I don’t know. It was almost like it didn’t want me in it.” He then smiled once again and laughed. “Oh, Christ, I am out of it. I am so out of it tonight. So out of it.”

I left, bewildered by Frank’s sudden sincerity at this comment.

Before I turned in for the night, I decided, out of curiosity, to check the gauge on my I-Mark. I remembered it specifically having about ¼ of a tank since the last time I drove it. The needle was pointed just above the halfway mark, so I figured I’d remembered it wrong.

I was about to turn and leave when I realized Frank’s wife was strolling down the sidewalk towards me.

“Hi,” she said, lifting up her hair and letting it flow around her shoulders.

“Hi, I replied, taking in the sudden silence that had formed around us.

She turned and glanced towards the house, shaking her head.

“Still passed out?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Yeah. That’s Frank for you.” She smiled and looked over at the Isuzu. “You know, I never really got what the whole big deal was about you two and cars in general. I don’t really get the appeal.”

I jumped at the opportunity to explain my hobby. “Well, as a kid, I grew up playing with those little Mattel model cars. I loved how cool, how brash and flashy they looked. I fell in love with the concept of the automobile, a machine that could be tailored to your every desire, and could kite you away with the slightest movement of your foot.

“As I grew up, I learned that the feeling of driving could be intoxicating. To be honest…” I realized I was rambling. “Why do you want to know now, anyway? We’ve lived next door to each other for years.”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve never really had a conversation with just you before,” she said. “It’s just that there hasn’t really been anyone to talk to lately.”

We stared at each other in silence. An SUV rounded the bend and trundled by, snapping me out of my trance.

“Well, I’m gonna head in for today,” I said, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly.

“Me, too,” she nodded, turning around and sighing as she made her way towards the door.

I dreamed of her that night. She was leaning on my Isuzu, smiling and laughing. I wanted so badly to speak, but for some reason I couldn’t. I could only stand there in the street, watching from a distance as she reeled in laughter at some unknown joke.

I was abruptly woken up at about 4 AM by a piercingly loud noise. It took me a second to register what was happening, but after I snapped out of my drowsiness, I realized it was the sound of a car alarm. The first thought that popped into my head, of course, was that someone was trying to steal my I-Mark.

I dashed outside in my bathrobe, hoping to God that I wouldn’t come out just to find someone driving away in my car, screeching the tires.

But when I got to my car, the noise abruptly stopped. The lights weren’t flashing, and everything seemed fine. I checked the door lock, and, sure enough, it was still intact. I glanced over to Frank’s Conquest to see if it was the source of the noise. Nothing was wrong there, either.

I was about to retreat back inside when I heard muffled yelling coming from inside Frank’s home. I saw that a light was on in the upstairs window. Two silhouettes were arguing behind the curtains, which I could scarcely believe were Frank and his wife. In the years that we’d known each other, I’d never seen them fight. Wanting no part in it, I went back inside to make up the sleep I’d lost.

The next day, during our drinking session, I decided not to bring up what I’d seen. I instead asked him, innocently, whether his wife had said anything about my car.

“Nope,” he laughed, “I don’t think she’s into that sort of thing. She hardly even mentions my car, hell.”

I forced a laugh.

“Hey, Mike, there’s something I gotta tell you.” He suddenly changed his tone to a harsh whisper, which caught me somewhat off guard. “I had another dream.”

I didn’t want to hear it, but I let him ramble, just out of curiosity as to what nonsense he would spew out this time.

“So I was standing next to my Conquest, this time with surroundings. It wasn’t any place I’d ever seen before, though. I was in the middle of one long stretch of highway.” He gestured with his hands for emphasis. “Straight as an arrow. Couldn’t see the end of it. No other cars or even people in sight. And it was absolutely silent.

“Then I heard the sound of a car coming from behind. I turned around and saw a pair of headlights appear in the distance. The car was going at insane speeds, judging by how quickly the lights came closer. I was terrified, and tried to get in my Conquest, but it was locked. I could only stare as it neared at an impossible speed. I didn’t know what it felt to be a deer in the headlights until that moment.

“And then, just before it hit me…WHAM!” Frank suddenly slammed his fist on the seat, making me jump. “...it stopped to a dead halt. Faster than I could blink, it went from a billion miles per hour to zero. No braking, no nothing. It just… froze, as if time had stopped.

“I just stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. And then, when I was about to move again, the hood popped open.

“There was no engine, Mike. It was just a mass of writhing, fleshy appendages, melted around a gleaming metal core.

“I woke up drenched in sweat. Pouring, dripping from every nook and--”

“Okay, Frank, that’s enough,” I said. I was pretty disturbed by the image he’d described, and I was wondering if this was a sign that something was wrong.

“I’m just glad she wasn’t in bed with me for that experience,” he chuckled, almost halfheartedly.

“Maybe you should see a psychologist,” I suggested.

“Already have been,” he replied, taking a large swig from his beer. Suddenly, the slight smile he had was completely wiped off of his face.

“Mike, I just need to see under the hood.” He looked at me with a penetrating gaze that made me even more uncomfortable.

“What?” I exclaimed incredulously.

“I know it’s a stupid request, but I just need to see it for myself. Please, just entertain me this once.” Before I could protest, he was already walking towards my Isuzu.

I sighed and jogged over to the hood just as Frank reached it. I slipped my fingers underneath and undid the latch, lifting it up to reveal the glorious 70-horsepower 1.5-liter engine.

“There. All fine. Now, I think it’s time you went inside.” I motioned to close the hood, but in that instant, Frank’s hand shot up and clutched it tightly.

“You okay?” I asked apprehensively. There was no response. Frank just stood there, staring at the engine compartment like he could see through it.

“Okay, you look at it as long as you like,” I said, letting go of the hood. “Just make sure to close it again when you’re done, okay?” I headed back inside. Something was definitely wrong with him, but I didn’t want to intervene if it had anything to do with the arguments he’d been having with his wife.

Frank was still looking at the car when I turned the outer lights off and went to bed.

I had yet another strange dream that night.

I was back in the street, polishing the I-Mark, just like before. Frank’s Chrysler was there, too, but Frank himself was absent from the scene. The hose he’d been holding previously was now laying on the ground, spewing water into the street.

At one point I became transfixed on one particular panel on the Isuzu. I started scrubbing the one spot furiously, until I began to wear away the paint. I just kept rubbing away, until I eventually eroded through the panel itself. I expected to see the exposed chassis when I lifted the brush.

But when I removed my hand, there was no sign of any sort of framework. It was just a gray void.

And it wasn’t just the lighting playing tricks on me. It was as if someone had taken the color gray and just filled an entire shell with it.

As I peered into the hole, the rest of the car began to dissolve around the panel. The windows and doors melted away to reveal more of the endless gray void.

I began to back off, but some unknown force glided me into the spot where the driver’s seat would have been and dropped me there. There was nothing I could do.

I fell into the emptiness, screaming as the world above disappeared from view.

I woke up once again to the sound of a car alarm.

This time I was reluctant to chase after the sound. I was beginning to think I was hallucinating. But I decided to check on my car once more, simply out of curiosity.

I slowly put on my robe and walked outside once more. This time, though, the noise stopped as soon as I set foot outside my door. I made a mental note to ask Frank the next day if he’d heard the same sound as I went back up to bed.

The next morning, I knocked on Frank’s door to see if he could answer my question. When no one responded, I decided to take the I-Mark out on the road.

The first thing I noticed when I got in was that the fuel warning light was on. I still didn’t trust the fuel reading system, so I dipped the tank myself. Sure enough, the dipstick showed that the tank was essentially full.

The driving experience I had that day was one I’ll never forget. I drove through the town, taking corners at speeds I’d never done before. I merged onto the highway and let it loose, and the sheer acceleration left me speechless.

When I came home after a half-day’s worth of driving pleasure, I saw Frank’s wife sitting on my doorstep. I exited the Isuzu, locked it, and strolled up to her, worried that something was wrong.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” I asked. “Where’s Frank?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” she responded. “He left for a day trip last night. Been away the entire day.”

“Crap,” I muttered. “Listen, there’s something I have to ask you: By any chance, did you hear a car alarm go off at about 4:30 last night? And the night before?”

“Not that I remember, why?” She gazed up at me with a look in her beautiful green eyes that read: I need someone to talk to.

“Listen…” I sat down beside her. “I know you’ve been having troubles lately…”

Before I could respond, she reached over and spread her lips over mine. So many emotions raced through my mind-- passion, guilt, pity, but most of all, love. It lasted as long as it needed to.

“I’ve always thought you were such a great kisser,” she said, smiling. “Better than Frank, anyway. Now I know.”

I took her inside. We sat down on the couch and watched Gone in 60 Seconds, kissing every time there wasn’t an action scene. I took her up to my bed halfway through.

As strange as it may sound, we made love to the tune of exhaust notes.

I had the most wonderful dream that night.

I was in the passenger seat of my car, watching as it drove itself across an endless series of winding paths. I’ll admit that I was disappointed that I wasn’t in control, but the feeling of effortlessly gliding over the asphalt was so uplifting that I ignored the urge to order myself into the driver’s seat.

The road slowly began to dip into a long, downhill straight, and suddenly I could feel the wind rushing through my hair, and I realized that I had taken the place of the car. I was traveling on four wheels, propelling myself forward with no effort at all.

It was joyous. It was the most free I’d ever felt, even if it wasn’t in reality.

I was suddenly awakened by the sound of a blaring car alarm. I turned over to my side and realized Frank’s wife was gone. I jumped out, almost carried by the momentum of my dream. I realized in an instant that the alarm was the same I’d heard the nights before. But this time, something was different about it. Somehow, the sound felt more… tangible than before.

I came running outside in my bathrobe to find Frank’s Conquest driven onto his front lawn, half-sunken in the topsoil. I ran around to the side to see if anyone had been hurt. Maybe Frank had had too much to drink for their anniversary, and spun it onto the grass.

I walked around to the side and nearly vomited at the sight of Frank’s wife, laying on the grass with her head wedged in the passenger’s side door.

Bits of skull, flesh, and tooth lay strewn across the grass, and blood was oozing from the side skirts. From the looks of it, her head had been repeatedly smashed by the heavy metal door, until it had been crushed into nothingness. Grey matter was stuck in the tire treads, and as I turned to look behind the Conquest, I saw that it had dug into the ground with wheelspin, and splattered blood and brains on the side of my house.

I stood there briefly, gazing in disbelief. Then, I heard the distinct shattering of glass over the piercing wail of the car alarm.

I turned away from the gruesome scene to see Frank, cutting into the windshield of my Isuzu with a buzzsaw. He had already torn open most of the fabric interior, and slashed all four tires. It looked like he’d been under the car, too, judging by the layer of earth coating his back.

I didn’t care about getting hurt. I didn’t care about anything at that point. I just ran over and tackled him to the ground, tears streaming down both of our faces.

I called the cops and they took Frank away. I watched them pull his mud-coated body into the cop car, struggling to hold him back as he kicked and swore at my mangled Isuzu.

I knew there was something off about him that past week, but I’d never have thought he could resort to… that. I suppose I should have seen his comments from the days before as a warning of what he was planning. I still can’t believe to this day that I was living next door to someone who was capable of such an act.

As I testified in court during his trial, there was still a part of me that thought he could be saved. But I knew that the acts of a madman couldn’t be justified.

Of course, I admitted that I was partly at fault. If I hadn’t provoked him, maybe he wouldn’t have snapped. But I know that she deserved better. I always felt guilty that I was the one who had indirectly caused her death.

Frank was given life imprisonment on charges of first-degree murder, but he killed himself two days into his sentence. Apparently he bashed his head against the concrete wall until his skull split straight through.

I talked to Frank’s psychologist, and he said Frank hadn’t shown any signs of potential psychopathic tendencies at all during their meetings. Of course, he couldn’t give many details away, but he did mention that Frank loved to talk about cars.

I tried to salvage what I could from the Isuzu, but it was hopeless. Frank had cut straight through the wishbone with the saw, and smashed every single fluid system on the thing. The bodywork was too damaged to even consider a rebuild, so I was ultimately forced to scrap it.

I’ll never forget what a fantastic time I had in that thing. I’ve tested many other cars since, even other I-Marks, and I haven’t been able to achieve anything close to it since.

I’ve tried to forget, but I can’t.

You see, I got a letter in the mail shortly after I sent the car off. It had been written just before the trial.

Mike,

I know you’ll be looking at what I did and saying I’m a lunatic. But I did what I had to do.

You don’t understand, Mike. The night before I killed her, I had another dream.

I dreamed I was in your car, Mike.

I was driving it down the country road. It was the one from our anniversary trip to Spain. I had complete control.

And then you came by in my car. And my wife was in the passenger seat.

You were laughing. She was talking and you were smiling, holding her hand on the gear knob.

Then your car started collapsing in on itself. The plastics turned into organs- human organs- and it encased me in a mass of flesh and muscle. It covered my entire body, poked into me like an iron maiden. I could see through two hollow cylinders that formed around my eyes, but inside them were rows and rows of metal spikes.

All control I had was ripped from me, and I was forced to watch as it glided over to you two in my car and tore you to pieces and bloody chunks.

That fucking car. I told you it was bad news. I just didn’t know how bad it was until that night.

Mike, it fucking spoke to me. In real life, not the dream. I’m not crazy; it whispered right in my fucking ear when I was looking at it that day. It came right from under the hood, almost as if it was calling.

It said that she was going to kill me in order to be with you.

I never told you, but we’d been growing apart for several years, and I always suspected you were involved. After that thing spoke to me, I searched through her drawer and I found a note saying that she was planning to run away on our anniversary, and saw that she had hidden a loaded revolver beside it.

I had to do something.

I didn’t want to kill her, Mike. I’ve regretted it ever since. I should have just called the cops on her. But that car knew, somehow. It made me do it. I don’t know how. Hell, I don’t think it was even a car. I don’t know what it was; something residing within a car’s shell. Something supernatural.

I did you a favor by smashing it up.

Because I know one thing, and it’s that it was pure evil.

-Frank

I’ve kept that note ever since. I don’t like looking at it, but I can’t help myself. Something about it unsettles me. I suppose learning the inner workings of a lunatic does that to you. I read it over and over with some sort of unstoppable morbid curiosity, and every time I do, I think of her.

I still dream of her sometimes. I dream we’re in Spain, coasting down an endless open road in that Isuzu. Like Frank described.

And I can’t help but wake up and stare forward, just contemplating what my life would have been like if I hadn’t gotten that car. Maybe he would have acted anyway. I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever know.

Apparently, that note was withheld for fear of swaying the trial, before I testified. In any case, I doubt I would’ve argued in his favor.

There’s one last thing I should probably mention. On the day that I scrapped the I-Mark, I started it up, just to see if it would turn on. To give me some sort of closure, I guess, even if it was in vain.

And, even though the fuel lines had been cut and all the spark plugs had been removed and destroyed, the thing started. Not even a stutter. Just spun right up.

I shut it off immediately and turned away as it was lifted onto the truck. I decided it wasn’t worth saving if it meant having a constant reminder of what happened.

The last sight I got of that beautiful vehicle before it was hauled off was the fuel gauge, which pointed just above the F.

[embaasan-blog]

Skin Ch. 2 - The Maple Tree (Sousuke/Kouhai Fanfic)

Fandom: Notice Me Senpai Rating: Mature Summary: Sousuke and Hinata have always been inseparable - as two halves to a whole, they have shared everything - from the grief at their mother’s disappearance to the face that belongs to them both. But the two of them are starved for attention and when their elite school opens its gates to the first female student in its history, the two of them are drawn in by her girlish charm. Now piqued against each other, Sousuke is left tormented and grappling with promises he can no longer keep, while Hinata’s virtuous facade is slipping, to reveal an increasingly warped mind.    Notes: Again, the rest of the fic (so far) has already been uploaded to AO3 and you can find it here! The next three chapters will be put into a queue and will drop one after another just so I can get this blog up to date. Thank you for all the support so far, you guys are amazing!

| Chapter One | Chapter Two |

Sousuke aced the tournament that Sunday and celebrated his victory in the garden of the family compound with Hinata and Soujiro, basking in the warm glow of the evening sun beneath the ageing maple tree that took pride of place in the center of the garden. Hinata, awkwardly maneuvering plates polished of food into neat stacks, was chattering nonsensically about sweets and textiles while Sousuke was deep in thought. A gust of wind severed leaves from the branches of the towering trees and they scattered around the three young men, signalling the approach of autumn, but Sousuke paid no mind to the changing seasons, but rather, the changes occurring within himself.

He had lost interest in archery. The pleasure that the sport had given him in the last seventeen years, unchanging and staunch, had vanished overnight. He had not become sloppy or any less adept but he felt lost in his own victory - it was predictable, boring. He had mastered archery as both a sport and an art form and had nothing left to achieve.

He thought of Soujiro, who, back in the café, had been using his sketchbook as a convenient prop while he ogled the girl. Right now, however, his pen was perpetually only centimeters away from the pages, which were fluttering in the wind and making his words dance like strange butterflies riding the wind. Sousuke felt bitter disappointment at the effort and excitement Soujiro was channeling into his work. Meanwhile, Hinata continued rambling on about the Tea Ceremony Club and his joy at being able to buy more matcha powder and wagashi now the club's funds had been replenished.

That night, Sousuke tentatively tapped on the door leading to his father's office.

"I'm bored of archery," he announced, when his father opened the door and welcomed him in. He couldn't be bothered with greetings nor was he about to apologize. His father hadn't even returned to his seat, and the two of them stared at each other for a few moments, waiting for the other to speak.

"So tell me, son," his father finally spoke, his deep, baritone voice reverberating in a way that sent shivers down Sousuke's spine, "what do you plan to do about it?"

Sousuke and Hinata's father was old money to the outside world, and no one paid him any heed because of it. When they looked at him, they merely saw wealth, rather than the malicious curling of his lips and the searching, judgmental eyes. Sousuke was scared of his father, but at the same time, respected him. He felt that a bond existed between them, and he held onto it with all his might, for it was the one thing he and Hinata did not share. Hinata had always been more like their mother - graceful and mysterious, like the soft light of the moon and Sousuke was sure that his father was disappointed in him for it. He was an old fashioned man and did not embrace the idea of his eldest son having feminine interests and strange fancies.

With a deep, weary sigh, Sousuke's father sat down in his armchair and lit his pipe. Sousuke, who had expected a far worse reaction, knelt on the ground facing him and bowed his head.

"I don't want to quit," he confessed, "but I'm bored. I feel like I've achieved everything I can possibly achieve. I don't get the same satisfaction from it-"

"You're like your mother, both of you," he snarled. His countenance became dark and twisted. "You have no backbone."

Sousuke blanched at his words, brimming with vehemence and entirely unexpected. He had never dreamed in a million years that his father would speak those words.

"If either one of you had any mind to, you'd stick to what you're good at and wouldn't question it. Quit, if you'd like, or don't, I don't care. Now, if you've said all you have to say, go. I have things to do."

Feeling like a child, Sousuke, knelt on the ground, opened his mouth, and then closed without breathing or speaking, losing the will to argue. Instead of feeling encouraged, with passion instilled, he felt worse - worse than he had ever felt before. He had inherited his interest in archery from his father but now he was sure his father had lost interest in him. Blowing smoke from his pursed lips, the man watched him expectantly. Sousuke wasn't stupid. If he was to lash out now, it would make him more of a man in his father's eyes but he would have to take a beating. If he walked out, he would leave unscathed, but it would damage his standing even further. Reluctantly, he stood and turned, without bidding his father goodnight, and left the room, making as little noise as humanly possible.

Knowing Hinata was waiting in their bedroom, Sousuke went in the opposite direction and kept walking until he hit a dead end. Opening the door to the spare bedroom, he saw the maple tree in the distance through the window, and felt a surge of intense, burning hatred for himself and his own failure. The tree had represented more to him than he had ever realized and now he loathed the sight of it. Turning the light out he swathed himself in complete darkness and slouched against the wall in defeat.

His father was meant to have fixed the feeling of uneasiness that had settled in Sousuke's gut, making him question even his own shadow. Instead, he had torn out what little remained of his fragile self-esteem.

For a few moments, his mind was a dark, whooshing void, and everything Sousuke had ever known and loved faded to black. Everything was shrouded in a deep, unnatural darkness and he found new reasons to hate or fear in every corner of his mind. The vibrancy of green matcha powder and the pure white snow that settled over the family compound in winter; his grandmother's flower arrangements and the tingling that he felt in his palms as he held a new bow for the first time - all those sights and feelings were nothing but murky sludge in his mind and he wanted rid of it all. He could feel the crescent moon shaped dents in the palms of his hands from digging his nails into them but had to resist the urge to shout somehow. Suddenly the image of a girl with creamy-coloured bare arms and a confident gaze waltzed through his mind and through the haze of his melancholy, like a breath of fresh air, she gave him a cold, seductive smile.

"What can I get you, Sousuke-senpai?"

That melodic lilt was gone. Her voice was low but sweet. Almost as if to reassure him of his masculinity, he felt his cock growing stiff. At first he tried to ignore it, but the urge grew too strong. Somehow every movement she made was tinged with the same darkness and melancholy that had infected him and now here she was, with an unfaltering adult gaze, comforting him in his misery. This wasn't the girl from the third year café, but his own twisted rendition of her, dressed in an unfastened kimono that she barely held together over her breasts. He could see the details so vividly - the frayed golden thread and the scarlet flowers in bloom that embraced her slender figure - but not her face, which almost blotted out by his inability to connect it to the depraved figure before him. No matter how hard he tried to push the image from his mind, it persisted, and he began to feel like he was being tested.

Seductive but coy, she continued to beckon him, with crimson lips pouting like camellias. He felt immense guilt clawing at his insides but immense pleasure at the same time. He wondered how soft the skin of her inner thighs would be if he kissed it; how she might react with squeals or moans as his kisses grew closer. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, but that did nothing. His thoughts would not stop straying.

There was a split second between the moment he relented and the moments prior, in which he fought like a wild boar inside his own head for the sake of chivalry.

With trembling hands, Sousuke unzipped his jeans. He let his pretense of masculinity fade away, as in his head, she was the one to approach, on her hands and knees, with the kimono falling, falling, down to her waist. On her stomach, he could see her bare back, all lovely with dips and curves in all the right places. He watched it rise and fall with each slow, deliberate movement.

Time passed like a freight train in the night, and the image only intensified. Although there was complete silence all around him and the sky gradually darkened, his senses were all reacting violently until he was completely consumed by the cinematic picture in his head of the chestnut-haired girl and her parted lips. That red tongue, curved smile and the long bangs obscuring her eyes, were etched into the back of his eyelids like calligraphy, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to feel that hot wet tongue, wanted to know her warmth. He could feel it already, sparking his imagination like wildfire, instilling him with depraved, uncouth desires he didn't think he was ever capable of.

The maple tree swayed in the distance. Autumn, the usurper, was fast approaching, marching like an army carried by languorous winds. Sousuke feared being caught - worried that the graceless image of him sprawled on the wooden floor, intoxicated by images of a girl he barely knew, would be witnessed by the entire compound. But part of him didn't care. How could he possibly? With those eyelashes quaking on the rosy, too-perfect cheeks. With that hand stroking his cock ever so gently.

As he came, he suddenly remembered that innocent, searching gaze she had as their eyes met for the first time, how he had suddenly become aware of her breasts heaving even though she was breathing normally. Ever subtle nuance and tiny movement had all come into focus at once. Now he was lying on the floor, staring into his palm with its crescent moon shaped indents and semen dripping through his fingers, wet in the light of the moon. For a brief moment, he felt inexplicably calm.

In their room, Hinata was reading, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration, surrounded by a pool of light cast by their shared desk lamp. Sousuke slipped by him, wordlessly, flicking on the television as he passed it, even though he had no intention of watching anything in particular. The two would sit in silence for the remainder of the night, barely acknowledging each other's presence, but being comforted by it all the same.

"Are you okay?" Hinata asked warily, after a few moments had elapsed.

Sousuke put on his best bewildered expression. "Yeah," he responded, with a raised eyebrow.

Hinata stared at him for a few moments, concern and confusion etched on his small, feminine face. "Okay then," he finally said, returning to his book, although he seemed mildly distracted for the remainder of the night.

As Sousuke got into his futon later on, he saw that Hinata's back was turned to his, as they lay parallel to each other on the floor. We've been lying to each other a lot lately, he thought with a sigh. What's that all about?

That morning, Hinata left earlier than usual, shutting the door behind him as Sousuke, half-asleep, sat watching steam rise from the kettle, vaguely aware of the disruption in their routine. It was a strangely peaceful morning without Hinata, who never failed to trash their bedroom while getting ready and have them arrive late at the gates of the school, sweating and breathless. Sousuke felt a pang of anxiety shoot up from his stomach to his skull at the sight of his twin walking briskly out of the compound, without looking back. Things were changing rapidly around him and these routines were crumbling. When he knocked on Soujiro's door, his mother dutifully informed him that he too was long gone.

In class, Hinata had more energy than usual, but his lips grew taunt and white when at lunchtime he stood by the classroom window watching Hajime thumping a taiko drum enthusiastically below the third-year café. A girl's voice drifted out across the lawn to him, bewildered and embarrassed.

"He's confessing to her so publicly," he muttered disapprovingly. Soujiro hoisted himself up and unlatched the window to hear her response.

"Doesn't seem like she's going to accept," he responded nonchalantly as Hajime and the girl bellowed to each other from where they were stood.

Grinding his teeth, Hinata began to walk away, leaving the scene behind him, while Soujiro and Sousuke were gripped. Hajime's public display of affection had left them in awe, although they were mildly embarrassed at their spectator status and quietly prayed they wouldn't be seen gawking out the window. He was a regular at the café so that his actions were not all that surprising, even if the execution was. They stood until, satisfied, Hajime gathered up his things and darted off to his next class.

Hinata was found in the third year café, hanging off the girl like a tumor, chattering about tea infusions and apprehensively explaining the benefits of using tea leaves even though they were more expensive. He seemed mildly annoyed at the arrival of his twin and cousin, shooting them questioning looks across the room as he leaned across the counter. When Takahiro arrived with a delivery of supplies, Hinata darted over to take the box, staggering slightly under his weight as his handed the girl the invoice with his free hand. Sousuke watched this scene unfold with fascination. When she bent over the counter to sign her name he became acutely aware of the shape of her breasts straining against her shirt. The sight of a girl in the school's uniform was still something he couldn't get used to. Worst still, she seemed oddly occupied by the whole affair with Hajime and barely acknowledged Hinata as he hoisted the box up onto the counter, which only served to irritate him even further.

"Thank-you, Takahiro-senpai," she said sincerely, handing him back the invoice so that he could separate their copies, "but you really don't need to deliver during your lunch break! After school is fine."

He laughed, sheepishly. "I don't mind, Kouhai-chan."

Hinata, at this point, was seething. When the girl turned her back to steam milk and the sound of the coffee machine drowned out his unnecessary prattling, he slumped back to where Sousuke was sat, looking dejected.

Soujiro, pretending not to notice his cousin's expression, flipped open his sketchbook and began to draw fine, faint lines onto the pristine pages. Sousuke wished he had something to busy his hands with, and turned his face to the window.

"Hajime didn't come today," Hinata said in a small, hurt voice.

"No I expect not," Sousuke responded. "A confession is a lot to process and he won't want to seem too eager."

"Oh, well you seem to know a lot about it," Hinata snapped back.

Sousuke was startled. Involuntarily, his eyes met Hinata's. Although their irises were identical, Hinata's eyes were down turned and made him seem perpetually serene. They made him appear kind and deeply emotional, although all of this had vanished in his frustration. Instead Hinata seemed unhinged. The Hinata that almost everyone could read like a book was gone, and instead an impostor sat in the chair, dead-eyed and staring. Sousuke felt sick to his stomach and Soujiro glanced anxiously over open pages, his pencil pressed to the page so hard that chips of lead were breaking off and dirtying the picture in progress.

"The gingerbread latte?" a voice called out, pleasantly.

Sousuke looked up. There was the girl again, expertly balancing a tray on the palm of her hand, with a glass fully of milky, fragrant coffee and steaming teapot resting on top.

"Oh," Soujiro exclaimed, "that'd be mine."

She placed the coffee down on the table, glancing briefly at the unfinished sketch, and then turned to Sousuke.

"And an earl grey?"

He nodded. "Thank-you."

The words almost stuck in his throat and he panicked slightly, his escapades from the night before running through his head as if on a reel. The unopened kimono and sight of her bobbing head returned to him again in bright flashes, clear as a memory. Watching her from afar, he was fine, but he was beginning to feel clammy with her in such close proximity.

"What are you drawing, Soujiro-senpai?"

Soujiro glanced down at the sketchbook beneath him with faint surprise, almost as if it had appeared out of thin air.

"Well," he started, beginning to make sense of the faint lines, "it's the maple tree in our family compound."

Sousuke blanched at the coincidence.

"Oh, wow," she responded. Holding the tray behind her back, she bent down over Soujiro's shoulder, her chestnut hair falling across it like a curtain. "Show me when you're done, okay? I bet you're just as good as Touya-senpai!"

At that moment, Kyouya-sensei appeared, his stern face scoping the room from the moment he entered until he sat down with a forlorn sigh. The girl glanced up, eyes wide, and darted over to the coffee machine to begin frothing milk with frantic jerks of her arm.

Sousuke was too fascinated by Soujiro's drawing at this point and nervously cast his eye over it. It stood at the center of the compound and could be seen from all houses, graceful, hardy and abundantly-leaved, with its low-hanging branches that the children would hang off in the summer. The ground would soon be blanketed in scarlet, and it would be up to the three boys to rake the grounds together, like they did every year.

He didn't notice Hinata's wounded expression. His eyes stayed lock on Soujiro's shoulder, which had begun to move as his hand eagerly began to darken the faint lines and turn the barren page into a mass of detail. To anyone glancing at the three boys, it would seem like they were all focused on the sketch as it bloomed in front of them, but that was never the case.